The Mystery on the Mississippi Read online

  “Dig out the papers, Trix,” Dan suggested. “Let me have a good look at them.”

  “They’re covered with figures. Scraggly lines, too, on the graph paper. Here they are, Dan. There are some words there that look Spanish. Honey, you know Spanish.”

  Dan smoothed out the crumpled papers. “Hmmmm... Spanish words. Sure, Honey knows some Spanish. Remember how she translated parts of that Mexican fortune-teller’s prophecy?”

  “Indeed I do remember!” Trixie took the papers from Dan. “Here they are, Honey. What are these words?”

  “Move over a little, Brian,” Honey said. “I can’t see well. The writing is small and foreign-looking. Gosh, Trixie, it doesn’t really look like Spanish. Yes, I guess it is. It’s a kind of dialect, though, not the kind of Spanish I learned at boarding school.”

  “Can’t you even recognize a word?” Dan asked impatiently.

  “Give her time!” Brian said. “Keep your shirt on, Dan. How about it, Honey? See anything you know?”

  “There’s dinero. That means money. And... let me see... it says here estépuntual....”

  “Now we’re getting someplace,” Trixie said excitedly. “What does estépuntual mean?”

  “Be on time.”

  “There you are! What more could you ask?” Trixie clapped her hands delightedly. “Those scraggly lines are copies of plans. They mean something aeronautical, as sure as you’re born. And ‘money’ and ‘be on time’—That couldn’t mean anything but that he stole the plans, and he’s going to get money for them, and he wants the money when it was promised!”

  “Whoa! Back up a little!” Jim advised. He slowed the car and moved over to an outside lane. “Have another look at the paper. I doubt if anyone in South America is going to steal our country’s plans. The South Americans are our allies.”

  Trixie shook her curls indignantly. “You forget, Jim, that people speak Spanish in Cuba. They’d give a lot of dinero to find out our space plans and pass them on to—”

  Honey whooped. “You’re right, Trixie. Right, as usual. See... here it says La Habana and... ohoooo... here it says vamos a Cuba....”

  “That doesn’t sound much like writing for children,” Mart said, puzzled. “Where’d you get that notion, Honey?”

  “From the map of the river with those strange sketches. Show him that paper, Trixie.”

  Trixie straightened out the narrow paper with the outline of the Mississippi River. “I can’t make much sense out of this,” she said. “Can you?”

  The crooked Mississippi meandered from the bottom of the sheet to the opposite corner at the top. Here and there along its course little drawings stood out.

  “This looks like a fez,” Mart said, pointing, “and here’s a pyramid, and another. Heck, what could that be?”

  “Egypt, of course,” Brian said. “But what does Egypt have to do with spaceships? Here’s something else funny—a set of false teeth. See, right in a row, and close by them, an island in the river.”

  “It looks like one of those picture puzzles in the bound copies of the old magazines we have in our school library,” Honey said. “Rebuses, I think they called them.”

  “They really do,” Trixie said, delighted with the interest the other Bob-Whites were showing. “I think this is the biggest puzzle of all—this picture of an old gray-bearded man, then a line of arrows pointing to an old steamboat.”

  “Yes, how about that?” Honey asked, awed. “What are you going to do with this junk?” Dan asked. “As far as I can see, it’s a lot of gobbledy-gook. What’s your next move?”

  “Show the papers to Mr. Brandio, of course,” Honey said, “and to Daddy. Isn’t that true, Trixie?”

  Trixie folded the papers and put them back in her purse. “I don’t think so,” she said slowly. “We’d better wait awhile for that, Honey. I want to know more about this—and more about Mr. Lontard—before I run to your father and Mr. Brandio. They’d just laugh at me.”

  “Come to think of it, you’re dead right,” Mart said. “People from all over the world are in and out of the Lambert-St. Louis airport. A few foreign words on scraps of paper can’t mean much, Trix.”

  “Don’t be too sure of that, Mart. I didn’t mean I wasn’t still suspicious. All I meant was that I want more to go on than I have now. More evidence is what I need. Honey and I’ll have to find out if Pierre Lontard really is up to something shady. Then we’ll take it up with the authorities.”

  “That sounds sensible,” Brian said. “I suppose the FBI has a thousand rumors a day reported to them. I know you, though, Trix. You’re just like a bulldog with a hold on a tramp’s leg. You’ll never let go. Forget it for now. Here’s the motel, right ahead. Let’s see what we can do about an invitation to go aboard the Catfish Princess. That’s the first order of business. All agreed?”

  “Right you are, Brian!” Jim said. He parked the car neatly, then glanced at his wristwatch. “It’s about time to meet Dad for dinner. Let’s hope he’ll have some idea of how we can get on the towboat.”

  Mr. Wheeler did have an idea. “A lot of New York firms use Mississippi River barges to move freight,” he said. “They’re much cheaper than railroads for transporting freight... slower but dependable. You remember, Honey, when Mr. and Mrs. Thompson and their children visited us last summer?”

  “Of course. I took the children swimming every day.”

  “That’s right. Their father never has stopped saying what a wonderful baby-sitter you were.”

  “Thanks. What does that have to do with the Catfish Princess?”

  “Possibly nothing at all. Mr. Thompson’s firm does own a barge line on the Mississippi, though. Well, not exactly the Mississippi; his line starts back at Cincinnati.”

  “Do you think the Thompson firm might own the Catfish Princess or maybe some other towboat, Daddy, that would take guests?”

  “I’ll find out. I saw Mr. Thompson today at the Missouri Athletic Club, so I know he’s in the city.”

  “Oh, will you call him? Right now?” Trixie’s eyes were popping.

  “Yes, Miss Now-or-Never, I will. I’ll see if I can reach him. Go on into the dining room, and I’ll stop at the phone booth over there. I’ll join you later.”

  “Boy, are we ever lucky!” Mart said as they trooped into the dining room. “Seems as though all the Bob-Whites have to do is wish for something, and there it is!”

  “We aren’t on the towboat yet,” Jim reminded him. Trixie held up her crossed fingers. “Nothing, not a thing in this world, is going to keep us from taking that trip!”

  Jim picked up the menu. “All I say is—just wait till we hear what Dad says. I know what I’m going to eat. Barbecued ribs, if they have them. There’s Dad now. We’ll soon know.”

  Mr. Wheeler started shaking his head before he reached the table. Trixie’s spirits hit the floor with a thud. She pushed the menu away. “We’re not going?” she asked Mr. Wheeler.

  “Mr. Thompson sold his interest in the barge line several months ago. Hard luck, Bob-Whites.”

  “Doesn’t he know someone who knows someone who could help us get aboard?” Jim asked. “Did you ask him that, Dad?”

  “Of course I didn’t. I waited for him to offer to do something more about it, and he didn’t. He did tell me that barge lines almost never invite young people as guests. He said they were all over the place and got in all kinds of scrapes. Towboats aren’t pleasure boats, of course.”

  “That’s for sure,” Brian agreed. “Didn’t you tell him the Bob-Whites never mess around in what doesn’t concern them?”

  Mr. Wheeler took off his glasses, put them on the table in front of him, and smiled.

  Jim joined in.

  Then Brian.

  Trixie looked puzzled.

  “You don’t see the joke, do you, Trix?” Mart asked. “Or you, either, Honey?”

  “They all mean that we do mess around in what they think doesn’t concern us,” Honey answered. “I can think of some instances where
they’d have been in a lot of trouble if we hadn’t investigated things.”

  “You win there,” Mr. Wheeler said. “I’m not giving up. When dinner’s over, I’ll give Mr. Brandio a ring and see if he can come up with an idea. Right now, let’s order.”

  Mr. Brandio did not have an idea.

  “His mind’s so full of air travel that he doesn’t know people still like to travel on water or land,” Mr. Wheeler told the Bob-Whites.

  Mart kissed his fingers into the air. “There goes a pipe dream!”

  Honey sighed. “Oh, dear. Think hard, Daddy. You know so many people.”

  “I am thinking hard. The trouble with you, Honey, is that you think I’m a magician, that all I have to do to accomplish something is to wave a wand.”

  “You’ve waved a lot of wands for us Bob-Whites,

  Mr. Wheeler,” Trixie said gratefully. “Heavens, there are a lot of other things to do in St. Louis.”

  “Name one,” Mart said disconsolately.

  “I did so want to take just a little ride on the river. Daddy! You’ve thought of something!” Honey clapped her hands.

  Mr. Wheeler had risen suddenly, snapping his fingers. He left abruptly, without a word, and went out to the phone booth near the pool. When he rejoined the breathless Bob-Whites, he was smiling. “Pack up your troubles! You’re as good as aboard!”

  “The Catfish Princess?” Jim asked.

  “I think so. Remember that retired riverboat captain, Captain Wainwarton, who spoke at Sleepyside Junior-Senior High a while back?”

  “DoI!” Jim answered. “He wrote a book about Mark Twain on the Mississippi. Jeepers, Dad, do you mean that you talked to him?”

  “I did. I just remembered that he was from St. Louis. Guess what. He’s part owner of the Catfish Princess. He remembered the Bob-Whites. At least, he said he remembered Trixie. Everybody remembers Trixie”—Mr. Wheeler smiled—“one way or another.”

  “A left-handed compliment if I ever heard one,” Mart said. “Guaranteed not to swell your head, Trixie. Do you mean, sir, that we really will get to ride on the Catfish Princess?”

  “I don’t mean anything else, Mart. There’s only one obstacle. The Princess will be bound for New Orleans. The journey there and back would take lots longer than the time we have.”

  “Then, why did you say we could pack?” Honey asked, deflated.

  “I’m getting to that, Honey. Towboats stop at many intermediary points to unload freight, drop off empty barges, or pick up new loads. Captain Wainwarton suggested that you might want to ride the Catfish Princess to Cairo, Illinois, for instance. He said that such a trip would be very interesting.”

  “Hannibal, I’ll bet a penny!” Mart’s voice rose with excitement. “Oh, boy, have I ever wanted to see that Huck Finn country!”

  “Sorry, Mart, but Hannibal is upriver from St. Louis. We’d better be thankful for any ride and not be so particular about where we go.”

  “Maybe we can drive up there later,” Mart said quickly. “It’s one place I’d sure hate to miss.”

  “Any place on the Mississippi River must be interesting,” Trixie said, frowning at Mart.

  Mr. Wheeler smiled. “Captain Wainwarton seemed to think so. He said something about a town where there are Indian mounds. He even mentioned a place along the river where Jesse James once hid.”

  “Say, I’d like to see that,” Dan said enthusiastically. “It is Jesse James country, this Midwest. But,

  Mr. Wheeler, you said the towboat was going on to New Orleans. How would we get back up the river from Cairo?”

  “You won’t.” Mr. Wheeler smiled as he looked at the Bob-Whites’ faces. “I don’t mean that you’ll stay in Cairo for the rest of your lives. I mean that you won’t come back on the river. I’ll have to send a car to Cairo to pick you up the next day. How about it? Do you think you can be ready to take off from the waterfront in St. Louis tomorrow morning?” Mart answered for the group. “Just give us a chance!”

  “It’s too wonderful ever to believe,” Trixie told Mr. Wheeler breathlessly. “And don’t think we’re not grateful to you for all the trouble you’ve taken.”

  “Forget it! You’ll be out from underfoot for a couple of days. Another thing—Trixie and Honey won’t find anything on the towboat that they’ll risk their lives investigating.”

  Trixie opened her purse, pulled the crumpled papers halfway out, then quickly shut them in again and smiled—a slow, mysterious smile. She caught Honey’s glance and winked. It’s a good thing, she thought, that I didn't show those papers we found to Mr. Wheeler. They may not mean anything, but if he doesn’t know about them, he won’t worry.

  Something in the Air ● 4

  EARLY THE NEXT MORNING, the little car, bursting with Bob-Whites, nosed its way into the parking lot near the Two-Way Barge Company’s loading docks.

  “Dad said to hunt out a spot in a far corner,” Jim said. “We can swing around this way on our return from Cairo, and I’ll pick up the car again. Boy, they really get moving early in the morning here, don’t they? Did you ever see this much activity in the New York harbor?”

  Below them the waterfront bustled with industry. Busy harbor boats snorted and puffed as they eased huge barges alongside the docks for loading.

  Cranes lifted their long noses into the air as one of them lowered lumber to a waiting carrier and « another picked up lengths of steel pipe to unburden a barge from upriver.

  As far up the river as the Bob-Whites could see and down to the bend below them, barges massed in a spreading fleet. Some of them, loaded with grain, their covers battened down for protection against rain, waited to be towed to waiting diesel-engined towboats resting out in the river. Some of them, empty, waited for cargo as officers hurried about the docks checking and rechecking.

  Jim pulled the two small bags from the car, handed them to Mart and Dan, and locked the car doors. “Guess we’d better find a place to report,” he told the other Bob-Whites. “Maybe we’re supposed to go up to the warehouse office. Now, what’s eating you, Trixie?” He looked at her curiously.

  Trixie gestured mysteriously to a black car parked in the opposite corner of the lot. “That Mercedes! If you don’t think Pierre Lontard even knows we’re alive, what’s his car doing in this parking lot?”

  Mart snorted and pointed to another Mercedes nearby. “I suppose you think that one is his, too, and that one over there near the building. Every black Mercedes you see has to be that Frenchman’s car, Trixie.”

  “Only his car has the left rear hubcap missing,” Trixie said triumphantly. “Honey noticed that right away. Anyone who even pretends to be a detective would notice a thing like that.”

  “You win!” Mart acknowledged. “But wouldn’t he have even more business down around these parts than we do if he’s trying to buy an old steamboat? I guess you didn’t think of that, did you?”

  “No, I honestly did forget that,” Trixie admitted. “I still think it’s queer that Pierre Lontard turns up everyplace we go.” She paused. “Is that someone from the office waving to us?”

  A man wearing a captain’s cap came toward the Bob-Whites, smiling. “I was told to keep an eye out for you. Good morning!” He shook hands with all of them. “I’m Captain Martin of the Catfish Princess. We’re glad we’re going to have you with us for a part of our trip. I wish you could go beyond Cairo. The lower river, from Natchez to New Orleans, is the most interesting part. We navigate the boat there by guess and by golly, mostly, for the river is shallow and shifty.”

  “We’re ever so glad to have a chance to go on the river at all, Captain Martin,” Honey said cordially. “Daddy suggested that we try to keep out of the way as much as we can.”

  “When you get to know Trixie, over there, you’ll realize that statement doesn’t mean a thing,” Mart said. “Honey and Trixie are girl detectives. If anyone drops an anchor, Trix will scour the river bottom for it.”

  “And come up with it, nine times out of ten,” Jim sai
d loyally. “The Belden-Wheeler Detective Agency is going to take a vacation for a couple of days... or I think it is.” He looked inquiringly at Trixie. She smiled but said nothing.

  Captain Martin seemed perplexed. He rubbed his brown beard. Then he laughed heartily. “Oh, I see. It’s a joke, isn’t it? Sometimes I wish we had detectives on board but not two young girl detectives. This towboat is an island all to itself out in the river. In fact, it will be well for you to keep your stateroom doors locked when you’re not there. Anything can happen. Something already did, this morning. Our cook didn’t show up. I was really up against it. Cooks are important. They rank as officers and get the same pay, and there’s plenty of reason for that. Well, here we were, ready to leave, and no one to fix the chow. We’d have had murder right and left, Trixie, and lots of cases for a detective to handle if the crew had to be put on limited rations.”

  “Jeepers! Maybe Honey and I could do the cooking. We could try. We can cook pretty well.”

  “I’m sure of that. Thanks for the offer. A crazy thing happened, though. I’d just been informed that our regular cook had to go to the hospital, when a couple showed up. They’re man and wife and wanted to sign on as cook and deckhand. The woman says she’s had service on other boats. Of course, I haven’t had time to check. Keep your fingers crossed. I know kids like good food, too.”

  “Heavens! We don’t mind what we eat or where we sleep or anything else,” Trixie said quickly. “We have to pinch ourselves to see if we’re really here! It’s surely good of you to let us go on the Catfish Princess. Is she one of those boats out there in the river?”

  “Yes, sirree!” Captain Martin said proudly. “She’s the boat, just coming in to pick up her fleet of barges... the biggest one out there, a nine-thousand-tonner! She’s one of two that the Two-Way Barge Company owns. They’re among the biggest boats in the country right now.”

  Mart shaded his eyes to look. “Wow! Are we ever lucky! When does she sail, sir?”

  “We’d hoped to get away around noon. This business of the new cook has slowed us up a little. We’re towing grain—twenty barges. They’re ready to take the first ten out now. See them lined up two abreast down there in the center of the wharf? Do you want to go out with them or wait for the rest of the tow?”