The Black Jacket Mystery Page 12

  “We’re not so sure now,” Honey said quickly. “There were cigarette butts in the bowl I broke.

  And they were the same kind as we found in the clubhouse.”

  Mart hooted. “Ye gods and little fishes! Those cigs sell a million packs a week! How do you know Mr. Lytell hadn’t been calling on Mr. Maypenny lately?”

  “Does he smoke that kind?” Trixie asked. She had kept out of the conversation till now.

  “Who knows? I know if he does, Mr. Maypenny wouldn’t have stopped him from smoking them there, even though he’s so set against tobacco.”

  “We hadn’t thought of that,” Honey said with a little sigh of relief and smiled.

  “Besides, what about the brown boots our thief was wearing, two sizes larger than Dan wears?” Jim asked quietly over the clop-clop of the hooves.

  “That’s right,” Honey agreed cheerfully. “I forgot all about them. Didn’t you, Trixie?”

  “Sort of,” Trixie admitted.

  “Why don’t you two get off Dan Mangan’s back?” Mart asked with unusual gravity. “Trixie’s done nothing but nag at him since the first day we met the poor boy!”

  Trixie had been on the verge of telling them about the new black jacket, but Mart’s dig made her change her mind. If her almost-twin felt that way about her, very well. She wouldn’t tell him any of her ideas, no matter how important they were. Let him find out for himself!

  She slapped the reins and sent her horse ahead of the others down the trail at a rapid pace.

  “Wow! Somebody’s feelings are hurt, I bet! You’d better go after her, Mart, and say you’re sorry.” Brian meant it.

  “Let her run a couple of minutes and cool off.” Mart grinned in the darkness. “She won’t bite me then.”

  But Honey, flashing a reproachful look at the masculine members of the group, sent her own mount into a gallop and disappeared down the trail after Trixie.

  When she had caught up with Trixie, who had wisely slowed down once she was well out of sight of the boys, Honey scolded her for reckless riding in the darkness. “You might have gotten a broken neck.”

  “They wouldn’t have cared.” Trixie sulked, but she didn’t mean what, she said, and Honey knew that she didn’t.

  “I’m glad you left them behind, so we can talk,” Trixie said quickly as they rode down the widening path toward Glen Road. “I want to tell you about the jacket.”

  “What was that all about, you and Dan yipping at each other in the cabin?” Honey asked curiously. “Why did you throw his silly jacket at him?”

  “Because he looked so shocked when I touched it, there on the back of the chair! I guess he looked that way because he thought I’d noticed it wasn’t the same one he’s been wearing all along.”

  Honey looked astonished. “Not the same one? Why, it must be. I’m sure he wouldn’t have two. They’re expensive. Don’t you remember? When we were trying to decide what kind of jackets the Bob-Whites should have, we looked at leather ones in Brown’s store.”

  “I remember.” Trixie nodded. “But expensive or not, I still say this wasn't the same jacket. It was like it, but it had THE COWHANDS lettered across the back in white paint! And the left sleeve didn’t have any sign of the tear that he got in his other jacket the day Susie brushed him off against the tree.”

  “Oh....” Honey was beginning to be convinced. Then she frowned. “But where would he get the money for a new jacket?”

  “He could have used the ten dollars he got for your watch from Mr. Lytell, for part of the cost. I hope I’m wrong, but if he did steal any of our rackets and stuff out of the clubhouse, he probably sold them to some of the kids at school.”

  “Do you think we should tell the boys about the new jacket? They could look around tomorrow and find out if anything’s missing off the higher shelves where we keep the summer stuff.”

  “No.” Trixie frowned. “Let’s not tell them a thing till we’re absolutely positive. They’d just tease us and talk the way Mart just did.”

  “I guess you’re right,” Honey admitted with a sigh. “Anyhow, if we tell them what we think about it, Mart might get into a fight with Dan and get hurt. Let’s wait till Dan’s been taken back to wherever he came from.”

  The boys caught up with them then, and they all rode on together to the lake.

  Mart tried to apologize to his almost-twin, but she was cool and snubbed him until she noticed that he looked unhappy. Then she cooked him a special hamburger and decked it with his favorite trimmings as a token that she had forgiven him.

  After that, they all had a good time, and while Mart practiced some fancy turns and twists out in the center of the ice, Trixie and Honey sped swiftly around at the edge, arm in arm, and perfected a few spectacular tricks for the show.

  As they rested out of the wind a few minutes, Honey noticed that Trixie was staring thoughtfully into the fire. “What’s bothering you now?” Honey asked.

  “Those yellow-brown cowboy boots that the thief wore who broke into our clubhouse. Dan couldn’t have been wearing them. He’d have stumbled around and fallen over his own feet!”

  “That’s right,” Honey agreed. Then she said, “But suppose he wore them just to confuse anybody who might suspect him!”

  “He might have, at that,” Trixie agreed.

  “But where would he have gotten them? I never saw a pair for sale in Sleepyside!” Honey said, frowning.

  “He could have stolen them, back wherever he came from!” Trixie decided. “He’s told everybody in school how tough he is, and I guess he wasn’t lying.”

  “I bet they’re in a closet at Mr. Maypenny’s right now!” Honey’s eyes were wide with excitement.

  “Maybe we can steal a look tomorrow, if we can wangle Moms into letting us ride out to see how Mr. Maypenny is getting along!” Trixie plotted eagerly.

  It wasn’t too much of a job next morning getting Mrs. Belden to agree. She thought the old gamekeeper might like some crab-apple jelly, so she promised to pack a half dozen jars of it for Trixie to carry to him after school.

  As the two girls were starting to get Bobby ready to catch his school bus, the telephone rang. It was Miss Trask, and she wished to speak to Honey.

  Honey danced back from the phone, her eyes sparkling. “Dad and Mom are flying in this afternoon, and I’m to meet them. Tom will pick me up at school!” She was delighted. “They’ll be here for the carnival. Isn’t that wonderful?”

  Trixie nodded, trying to be as happy about it as Honey, but it was a lost effort. She was going to miss her houseguest, even though they saw each other every day.

  Mrs. Belden zipped Bobby into his overcoat and put his hand in Trixie’s. “Better run along ahead with him,” she told Trixie. “His bus is almost due. I’ll help Honey pack her things.”

  Bobby pulled away from Trixie’s hand and ran to hug Honey. “Don’t go away!” he pleaded. “I’ll let you pet my new kitty when Trixie catches it for me!” So Honey had to promise she would be back to share Trixie’s room very soon and pet the kitty when it arrived. And only then did Bobby agree to run for the bus, hand in hand with Trixie.

  It wasn’t until they were settled in their favorite seats on the next bus that Honey remembered their plan to go see Mr. Maypenny and do some private investigating. “Oh, dear! Now I won’t be able to go with you!” she moaned.

  “I know,” Trixie said glumly. “I’ll go by myself, and if I get a chance to snoop around and I find those boots,” she promised, “I’ll phone you the minute I get home!”

  Regan wasn’t around when she went to get Susie and saddle her, after school. The boys had gone to the lake in Brian’s car with some more lumber odds and ends they were making into a little entrance booth where she could sit and hand out the tickets in return for the school books that were to be the price of admission. Jim had already started another batch of posters, and he had also managed to salvage a lot of the others without too much repainting.

  Susie was full of life and wanted
to run in the brisk winter breeze, so Trixie arrived at the lake in a very short time. She bad intended to do some more practicing with Honey, but now that it was impossible for that day, she took only a few turns around to convince her brothers that she was serious about it. Then she took off her skates and dropped them into the saddlebag next to Mr. Maypenny’s jelly.

  She led the beautiful young mare across to where the boys were erecting the ticket booth. “Guess I’ll give Susie a good workout today,” she told them casually. “Want me to drop by and see how Mr. Maypenny is getting along?”

  Brian, his face grimy and one thumb bandaged after a slight accident with a hammer, told her, “That’s a genius idea, Sis. And if that Dan character isn’t doing right by him, come back and tell us. I think if he tried real hard, your nuisance brother here could change the bandage for the old boy. I’m—” He held up the bandaged finger.

  “—incapacitated physically,” Mart finished the sentence. “And if I couldn’t put on a neater bandage than the one you hung on Mr. Maypenny last night, I’d go in for boiler-making instead of surgery!” He ducked behind the booth with a grin as Brian grabbed up a plank and threatened him playfully with it.

  “Hey, quit clowning, clowns!” Jim called from the lumber pile. “And help me carry some planks!” While they were doing it, Trixie mounted and turned Susie’s nose in the direction of the uphill trail that led to Mr. Maypenny’s cabin.

  She rode through the snow-prettied woods, under a clear, pale-blue winter sky, and thought how good it was to have a fine horse to ride—even if Susie wasn’t really her own personal property. She was practically her own, because the Wheelers had bought the little mare so Trixie could ride with Honey.

  She wasn’t paying much attention to where she was along the trail. Susie was beginning to slow down a little as she got some of the friskiness out of her system in the uphill climb, when suddenly Trixie recognized a familiar spot. Under the tall birches at the meeting of two brails, the snow on the ground was trampled by many feet. Several birch branches lay around, evidently broken off by the heavy wind. This was where Mr. Maypenny had been struck by the falling branch last night.

  On an impulse, she stopped the mare and slid out of the saddle. “Take it easy a few minutes, girl,” she told Susie, stroking her soft nose. “We still have a mile to go, and a steep one at that.”

  She looped Susie’s bridle around a sapling beside the trail and wandered over to look around and to stretch her legs. She wondered idly which branch had fallen on poor Mr. Maypenny.

  There was a small branch lying at one side. It was only about twenty inches long, and someone had cut all the side twigs off it. It looked more like a length of trimmed firewood than a fallen branch.

  Trixie picked it up, curious as usual. She was surprised to see that it wasn’t a branch of the birch that towered overhead. It came from a crab-apple tree.

  “That’s funny,” she told herself. “I don’t see a crab-apple tree anywhere around here. Somebody must have brought this here to whittle on.”

  But just as she decided that, she noticed for the first time that there was a dark stain at the heavy end of the piece of wood. And caught in the grain of the wood was a small tuft of gray hair. Hair like the hair on Mr. Maypenny’s head!

  The stain could only be his blood! And it was this homemade weapon that had struck him down, not a branch of the birch tree!

  Runaway Dan • 17

  FOR A MINUTE or two, all Trixie could do was stare in horrified surprise at the telltale length of crab-apple branch in her hands. Then, as the full meaning of it came to her, she started to fling it away, shivering. She stopped with the club poised to throw.

  Someone had struck down poor Mr. Maypenny last night with this, probably as he was looking around for Dan to tell him the good news that the kids had found evidence that seemed to clear Dan. Someone had sneaked up on the old gamekeeper from behind. And he didn’t suspect it. He blamed a falling branch.

  It could happen again to him, if he weren’t warned. And it seemed that she had to be the one to warn him, because no one else had noticed the broken length of branch with its ugly stain.

  She looked around her with a shudder. At any moment, Mr. Maypenny’s attacker might show himself and see that she had guessed the truth. He might strike at her.

  She ran for her horse and scrambled up into the saddle. It wasn’t far to Mr. Maypenny’s house, and if anyone tried to stop her, she would hit him with the length of wood and ride on. “Come on, Susie-pie! Let’s go!” She gave the reluctant Susie a little kick with her heels, and the indignant young mare set out with a leap and carried her up the trail.

  But she hadn’t gone over a hundred yards when she saw a figure approaching mounted on a sturdy old horse, which she recognized moments before she guessed who was riding it. It was Mr. Maypenny’s old Brownie, the ancient mare who never moved faster than a dignified walk that matched her fifteen years of age. And the figure on her back was Mr. Maypenny himself, his head neatly bandaged. He still seemed shaken.

  “Oh, Mr. Maypenny! I’m so glad you are all right!” she called. She dismounted and waited for him.

  “Well, now, I wouldn’t say that exactly,” Mr. Maypenny corrected her, lifting a hand to touch the bandage rather gingerly. “Still got an almighty nuisance of a headache to plague me. What you doin’ out here alone? That catamount’s been yowlin’ again up in the hills.”

  “I won’t hang around out here long,” Trixie told him, after a nervous glance around. “I was coming to tell you something.”

  “Well, tell away, and then you skedaddle for home,” he said severely.

  So Trixie, showing him the crab-apple branch with its telltale stain, told him she had found it at the place where he thought a branch had fallen on him.

  She was puzzled when he didn’t show any surprise at the information. He reached for the length of wood, regarded it gravely for a moment, and then dropped it into his saddlebag.

  “Thanks, youngster. I had a notion maybe it wasn’t an accident. I’m missing my wallet and the five dollars that was in it. I was comin’ to look around the ground back there to see if maybe it fell out of my pocket.”

  “There’s no sign of it, Mr. Maypenny,” Trixie told him.

  “Guess I won’t waste my time, after all,” he said with a sigh. “But I was hopin' against hope it’d be there and the money still in it. Guess I knew better all along.”

  “Maybe Dan has seen the tramp or whoever it was that did it! Did you ask him if there’s been anybody around?” Trixie asked quickly.

  Mr. Maypenny shook his head slowly. “Thought I might ask him this morning, but when I got up, he was gone.”

  “He wasn’t at school,” Trixie said, frowning. “I guess he decided to work all day in the preserve, as long as you wouldn’t feel well enough to get around.”

  “I kinda hoped that’s where he was, but when I went out to the barn to see if he took old Spartan, the horse was still there. And I found this.” He handed Trixie a tom sheet of paper.

  There were only a few words scribbled in pencil on it. “I won’t be back. Don’t look for me. Dan.” And down in one comer, in small letters, as if in an afterthought, he had written, “Thanks.”

  Trixie stared at it without speaking for a long moment. Then she handed the note back to Mr. Maypenny. He tucked it into the pocket of his high-necked, old-fashioned sweater. “Looks like he’s run away, doesn’t it?” Mr. Maypenny said with a sigh. “Poor little lad!”

  Trixie nodded sympathetically. “It’s a shame, Mr. Maypenny. He is your grandson, isn’t he?”

  “Nope. Dan’s no kin of mine. I let him work here to oblige a friend of mine.”

  “Do you mean Regan?” Trixie asked him, point-blank.

  The old man hesitated. Then he said with a shrug, “Can’t see why we should keep it quiet any longer, now the boy’s gone. Regan’s the one.”

  “But why was it such a big mystery?” Trixie frowned. “And what relation i
s he to Regan?”

  “Dan’s mother was Regan’s only sister. They were raised together in the orphanage, and she ran off to get married. Tim Mangan was killed in a car accident, and she raised the boy alone. Regan had lost track of his sister till the day he got word that she was dead and her boy was in a street gang fight and headed for reform school.”

  “So he asked Moms and Miss Trask what to do!” Trixie supplied quickly.

  “That’s right. Judge said he’d give the lad a chance to straighten out, if Regan would give him a home and work, so—” he paused with a sigh “—we tried your mom’s idea that working out in the preserve would do him good, give him a slant on things other than gangs and fighting.”

  “But why couldn’t he work at Wheelers’ helping in the stables, instead?” Trixie knitted her brows.

  “Regan figured Mr. Wheeler might not like the idea of having a boy like that around with his youngsters. Regan thought this was the best plan.”

  “I don’t know.” Trixie thought it over. “Maybe Mrs. Wheeler might have felt sort of funny about it, but I should think Mr. Wheeler would know Honey and Jim better than to think Dan could have made them do anything wrong.”

  “I guess poor Regan leaned back a little, at that,” Mr. Maypenny admitted with a solemn shake of his head. “But it’s better to be safe than sorry, I say. And look how the boy’s acted!”

  Trixie frowned. “All he’s done is run away, and maybe he didn’t want to do that!”

  “You’re forgetting Honey’s watch he found and sold,” Mr. Maypenny reminded her. He put his hand to the bandage on his head. “And other things that have happened.”

  “Maybe he didn’t do all of them,” Trixie said quietly. “Have you seen anybody around lately wearing those silly cowboy boots like Dan’s, only brown ones instead of black?”

  “Can’t say I have. What’s on your mind?” he said with surprise.

  Trixie explained about the brown polish on the clubhouse table, the large-size boot marks, and the almost new black jacket she had seen and Dan had tried to conceal.