The Mystery at Maypenny's Read online

  Trixie closed the book and laid it on the night table next to her bed. She pulled herself up into a sitting position, her back propped against the headboard of the bed, and folded her hands in her lap. “What is it you want to talk to me about, Bobby?” she asked seriously.

  Bobby sat down near the foot of the bed, his feet dangling over the edge. He folded his hands in his lap in imitation of Trixie’s and looked at her for a moment, his forehead creased in a frown, before he spoke.

  “I wanna know about the pine company,” Bobby said. “I wanna know how come everybody’s talking about the pine company.”

  Trixie leaned her head back until it rested against the wall above the bed. She closed her eyes, trying to figure out how she could explain to Bobby something that she herself only partially understood.

  “Don’t go to sleep, Trixie,” Bobby said shrilly. “I wanna know about the pine company.”

  Trixie opened her eyes and raised her head. “I’m not going to sleep, Bobby,” she said. “I’m just trying to remember everything I know about the pine company so that I can tell you about it.” She paused again, chewing her lower lip. Then she took a deep breath and plunged in. “The pine company is International Pine, Bobby,” she began. “They make furniture.”

  “I know that,” Bobby said. “Daddy told me that.”

  “Well, what else did he tell you?” Trixie asked. “He said it’s Inter—Inter— He said it’s what you said. And he said they make furniture. And he said they wanna make some more furniture, so they wanna buy some land from Mr. Maypenny and Mr. Wheeler. And he said Mr. Wheeler wants to sell it to them, and Mr. Maypenny doesn’t. And he said some of the people think Mr. Wheeler is right and some people think Mr. Maypenny is right. And he said everybody’s getting all excited and upset about it.”

  Trixie nodded. “That’s about it, Bobby. It sounds as if Daddy did a good job of explaining the whole thing to you. What more do you want me to tell you about ‘the pine company’?”

  “What I want you to tell me about the pine company,” Bobby said slowly, “what I want you to tell me is, who’s right and who’s wrong?”

  In spite of Bobby’s serious, grown-up expression, Trixie laughed out loud, scooped Bobby up in her arms, and hugged him. “If I knew the answer to that question, I could rule the world,” she told him.

  Bobby looked confused, and Trixie knew she’d have to try to explain things more clearly. She took a deep breath and went on. “Bobby, nobody knows who’s right and who’s wrong. In fact, probably nobody is right or wrong. They just have different opinions, because they want different things. It’s—It’s as if you and I went to the store and I wanted a vanilla ice-cream cone and you wanted a chocolate ice-cream cone. I wouldn’t be wrong because I wanted vanilla, and you wouldn’t be wrong for wanting chocolate. We’d just be different. You see?”

  Bobby nodded his head. Then his forehead puckered again in a frown, and he shook his head. “When you want vanilla and I want chocolate, we can both get what we want. But if Mr. Wheeler wants to sell and Mr. Maypenny doesn’t want to sell, they can’t both get what they want, can they?”

  Trixie shook her head. “It’s as if there were only one ice-cream cone left in the whole world, and it has to be either chocolate or vanilla,” she said sadly.

  “Oh,” Bobby said. “That’s bad.”

  “It sure is,” his sister agreed.

  Bobby stood up. “Thank you for ’splaining it to me, Trixie,” he said solemnly.

  “You’re welcome,” Trixie replied. She watched Bobby walk out of her room, carefully closing the door behind him. She flopped back on the bed and closed her eyes. “Chocolate or vanilla,” she said to herself. “I wonder which it’s going to be.”

  The next morning, Trixie dawdled as she got ready for school. Although she had a constant problem with running late, she knew that this was a different feeling. The strain of riding on the bus every morning with her friends and not mentioning International Pine was getting to be too much. It was uppermost in their minds, and they all knew it, but they knew, too, that the only way to keep the peace was not to talk about it. Everyone worked hard at inventing small talk, but the lively chatter they all used to share was gone. Before, the bus ride had been too short to get everything said that they wanted to say. Now it was too long.

  Trixie tried to line up some safe topics of conversation as she walked to the bus stop with her older brothers, but she found, as soon as she settled into her seat next to Honey, that it wasn’t necessary.

  “Guess what?” Honey asked her excitedly.

  “What?” Trixie said, feeling her own excitement start to grow immediately.

  Instead of answering, Honey turned to Dan. “Go ahead, Dan,” she said. “It’s really your news.”

  “Mr. Maypenny’s nephew has arrived!” Trixie shouted. “Is that it?”

  The other Bob-Whites all laughed. “My sibling the sleuth,” Mart said, making a teasing gesture of introduction.

  “I’m sorry,” Trixie said. “I spoiled your news.”

  Dan grinned. “Well, there’s more. I guess I’d better tell it right away, before you beat me to it again.” Trixie blushed as Dan continued. “David Maypenny got in late last night. And Mr. May-penny says that you’re all to come over tomorrow afternoon for a cookout, so that you can meet him and he can meet you.”

  “Neat!” Trixie exclaimed. “Oh, Dan, I can’t wait to meet him. What’s he like? Does he look like Mr. Maypenny? Is he nice? Do you like him?”

  “I only met him last night, and then just for a minute, because I had homework to do. It’s too soon for me to tell whether I like him or not,” Dan replied. His voice was casual, but Trixie thought he looked nervous as he spoke. His gaze, which was usually direct, went from the window to his schoolbooks to a spot somewhere above Trixie’s head.

  Oh, dear, Trixie thought. Dan doesn’t like David Maypenny. I just know it. But I wonder why not. She found herself looking forward to the cookout the next afternoon, when she’d have a chance to see David Maypenny and judge him for herself.

  Two Visitors ● 5

  HURRY UP, BRIAN! Mart!” Trixie shouted up the stairs. “We’ll be late for the cookout at Mr. May-penny’s!”

  Brian came down the stairs, laughing. “Turnabout is fair play, they say. But I never thought the day would come when you’d be calling up the stairs to me.”

  “It is amazing,” Mart added, following his older brother, “how her perambulation improves when a gustatory occasion, not a scholastic one, is beckoning.”

  “If you mean I think a cookout is more fun than school, you’re right,” Trixie retorted. “But it isn’t the food that I’m excited about. It’s meeting David Maypenny.”

  “We’re all eager to meet him,” Brian said. “And we’re all ready to go. So....” Bowing low, he gestured for Trixie to go out the door ahead of him.

  As they walked through the kitchen, Mrs. Belden called out to them. “There’s a chocolate cake there on the counter for you to take along. Mr. Maypenny is an excellent cook, I know, but I don’t think he goes in much for baking. I thought a little dessert might be in order.“

  “Yummy-yum!” Trixie exclaimed. “Thanks, Moms! You’re wonderful!”

  The three Beldens went first to the Manor House to meet Honey and Jim. The two were waiting outside. Jim stood quietly with his hands in his pockets. Honey paced nervously, straining her eyes for the first sight of her friends. When she saw them, she waved excitedly.

  “It looks as though your fellow sleuth is eager to check out David Maypenny, too,” Brian observed.

  “You guys are just as excited about meeting him as we are,” Trixie said. “You’re just trying your hardest not to show it, that’s all.”

  Then, as she got closer to where Honey was waiting, Trixie burst into laughter. Her friend carried a plastic cake holder, identical to the one Mrs. Belden had sent along.

  “Miss Trask was afraid that Mr. Maypenny wouldn’t provide us with a dessert,
” Trixie guessed.

  Honey started to giggle. Miss Trask had been hired by the Wheelers to be Honey’s governess. As Honey had grown up and become more independent, Miss Trask had stayed on and taken over the running of the busy Wheeler household. In a way, she was like a mother to Honey and Jim, since Mrs. Wheeler often went with her husband on business trips. “Isn’t it just like her to think of something like that?” Honey asked.

  “For reasons I cannot explain, I am suddenly overcome with anticipation of the evening’s festivities,” Mart said in a dry tone. “Shall we proceed?”

  Laughing, the Bob-Whites set off down the path to Mr. Maypenny’s.

  When they reached the tiny clearing, they saw the glow of the slow fire Mr. Maypenny used for outdoor cooking, with the big iron kettle hanging above it. Dan was tending the fire, and he waved as he saw his friends approaching.

  “Where’s David Maypenny?” Trixie asked.

  “Inside,” Dan replied.

  “Will you introduce us?” Honey asked.

  Dan hesitated for a moment. “Mr. Maypenny’s inside. He can introduce you. David’s his nephew, after all.”

  Trixie looked sharply at Dan. The boy lowered his head and pretended to inspect the fire. Again she was struck by the feeling that Dan did not like David Maypenny. Realizing that the others were going into the cabin, Trixie turned and followed them.

  David Maypenny was sitting by himself in the tiny living room of Mr. Maypenny’s cabin. When the young people entered, he jumped to his feet and held out his hand. “You must be the Bob-Whites,” he said.

  Jim stepped forward and shook David’s hand. “And you must be David Maypenny,” he said. “I’m Jim. This is my sister, Honey. And these are our friends Trixie, Mart, and Brian Belden.”

  “It’s good to meet you,” David said. “I’ve heard an awful lot about the Bob-Whites in the past couple of days. My uncle has told me about some of the projects you’ve been involved in, raising money for good causes like the school’s art department.”

  ‘Mr. Maypenny was a terrific help with that project. He let us use his clearing as a rest stop for the bikeathon, and he fed all the riders, too,” Honey said.

  “My uncle says you also solve a lot of mysteries,” David said, sitting back down.

  “Did he mention that Trixie and Honey also specialize in creating mysteries where none exist?” Jim asked. “When they first saw your uncle, they decided he was poaching on my father’s game preserve. Their evidence was the fact that they’d never seen him before.”

  “My uncle did mention that,” David said. “But I think it seems quite understandable. If I saw an old gentleman in a red cap, turtleneck sweater, and knickers, I’d think he was a poacher—either that or a character left over from a Washington Irving story.”

  “Are you familiar with the Washington Irving stories—‘Rip Van Winkle’ and ‘The Legend of Sleepy Hollow’?” Honey inquired, obviously impressed.

  David shrugged modestly. “I know a little bit about them,” he said. “I knew that my family had come from this part of the country, where those stories are set. So when we studied them in school, I paid extra-close attention.”

  As David spoke, Trixie eyed him closely. He certainly didn’t look anything like Mr. Maypenny. Mr. Maypenny was tall and gaunt, with a ruddy, weather-beaten face and white hair. David was short and round—not overweight exactly, but kind of soft-looking. His skin looked soft, too, with almost no wrinkles, and his hair was dark. He was definitely an indoor person, Trixie felt, and he looked as though he’d never had a really good suntan in his life.

  But Trixie couldn’t see anything in David Maypenny’s personality that would make Dan take such a quick dislike to him. David seemed open and friendly enough. His gaze was direct, not shifty. And he seemed genuinely interested in finding out more about the Bob-Whites.

  “Well, I see you young folks have all met one another,” Mr. Maypenny said, coming out of the kitchen. “Is everybody getting along okay?”

  “Just fine, Mr. Maypenny,” Brian said as the others nodded.

  “Oh, Mr. Maypenny, here’s a cake that Miss Trask sent over for dessert,” Honey said.

  “And here’s the one Moms sent over for dessert,” Trixie said, laughing.

  Mr. Maypenny started to laugh, too. “Isn’t that just like womenfolk?” he said. “Well, you tell them ‘thank you’ for me.” He took the cake carriers from Honey and Trixie and started for the kitchen. Then he paused. “Hmm,” he said. “This could be just what we need.”

  “What do you mean, Mr. Maypenny?” Trixie asked curiously.

  Mr. Maypenny suddenly looked embarrassed. “I hate to have to tell you young folks about this, after I had to ask you to come over and help me out last week. But it seems I let the fire go out under the stew this afternoon. It was lucky Dan noticed it, or we’d really be in trouble. As it is, that stew should simmer for another hour or so. So if anybody’s hungry, I thought we could have dessert first, then have the main course, and then have dessert again,” Mr. Maypenny concluded, holding up one cake carrier and then the other.

  “A superlative suggestion,” Mart said, patting his stomach.

  Mr. Maypenny looked at Mart, his eyes narrowed in a squint. “Does that mean he wants some cake or not? 1 can never tell what that young fella’s talking about.”

  The others laughed as Mart blushed. “Yes, please,” he said simply.

  Mr. Maypenny nodded. “I’ll be right back with cake and milk for everybody,” he said, returning to the kitchen.

  The Bob-Whites were still smiling over the exchange between Mr. Maypenny and Mart. But Trixie noticed that David Maypenny’s face was wearing a worried frown. “Is anything wrong?” she asked.

  David looked startled. “I’m sorry,” he said.

  “I—I didn’t think anyone would notice. I guess I am a little worried.”

  “About what?” Brian asked.

  “About my uncle,” David replied. “He’s older than I thought he’d be. I worry about him, living so primitively at his age.”

  “Mr. Maypenny can take care of himself,” Jim said confidently.

  “What about that fire?” David demanded. “He wouldn’t have noticed it was out if Dan hadn’t mentioned it. I wonder if his eyesight’s failing.”

  “Mr. Maypenny can still bag a pheasant at forty yards,” Jim said. “His eyesight’s fine.”

  “As for his letting the fire go out,” Brian said, "I’m sure that had less to do with his eyesight than with his having company for the first time in years. He was probably so concerned with talking to you that he just forgot to check it. It’s perfectly understandable.”

  “I hope you’re right, of course,” David Maypenny said, still frowning. Then he grinned. “Actually, to a big-city boy like me, this type of life probably seems a lot more demanding than it really is. My uncle is probably much safer here than he would be on the streets of New York.” There was no time for further discussion, since Mr. Maypenny returned just then from the kitchen with a sliced cake, a stack of plates, and a handful of forks on a huge platter, along with a pitcher of milk and some glasses. For a time, chewing and murmurs of satisfaction replaced conversation.

  When they had finished, Mr. Maypenny went outside to check on the fire. As he left, Trixie realized for the first time that Dan had never joined the group inside the cabin. She started to speak, but her glance was caught by Jim’s. The red-haired boy shook his head slightly, and Trixie knew that he was signaling her not to say anything.

  He’s right, Trixie thought. There’s no way I can mention Dan’s absence without upsetting everybody. If he’s outside because he and David don’t get along, then I’d be sure to embarrass David if I said anything.

  Trixie forced herself to join in the conversation. The Bob-Whites told David Maypenny about their life in Sleepyside, and David told them about what it had been like to grow up in New York.

  “As I said before,” David concluded, “I’m a big-city boy. I don’t
know a thing about small towns, and I know even less about the country.” Suddenly he started to laugh. “When my uncle was building the fire for the stew this afternoon, I watched him start with little twigs and put on bigger ones and then add wood, and I said—” David broke off and shook his head, looking embarrassed. “I said, ‘Where’s the charcoal?’ I had never seen a cooking fire made of wood before. Can you believe it?”

  “I can,” Honey said quickly. “Why, until my parents sent me to camp for the first time, I didn’t even know about charcoal. ”

  Everyone was laughing as Mr. Maypenny stuck his head in the door for a moment and called, “Soup’s on! I have the bowls out here, so just come on out and help yourselves.”

  The Bob-Whites and David Maypenny went outside, helped themselves to hunter’s stew and biscuits, and returned to the cabin. This time Dan came along and sat quietly in a corner, concentrating on his food.

  They had just finished eating, and Mart was wondering whether he could possibly find room for seconds when they heard the sound of a car engine outside. They looked at one another in puzzlement. Mr. Maypenny seldom had visitors —especially not someone in a car. The Bob-Whites always walked or rode the Wheelers’ horses or their own bicycles.

  They listened in silence as the engine was turned off and the car door opened and slammed shut.

  The sound seemed so eerie in the stillness of the September evening that Trixie jumped in spite of herself when she heard the knock on the door.

  Mr. Maypenny frowned at the door for a moment as if he were trying to see through it to the person outside. Finally he got up, crossed the small room in a few steps, and opened the door.

  “Mr. Maypenny?” said the voice from outside. “I’m happy to meet you. My name is John Score.”

  The Bob-Whites exchanged surprised looks as Mr. Maypenny said, “Well, come on in, John. We’re just having ourselves a little party. Join the fun.”

  John Score followed Mr. Maypenny back into the room, and Trixie swiveled in her chair to get the earliest possible glimpse of the young environmentalist. She wasn’t sure she liked what she saw. He was tall—so tall that the top of his head almost brushed the doorframe as he walked into the room. But he was much too thin. His patched and faded blue jeans seemed to hang from his body, and his chest looked sunken under his blue work shirt. His hair was dark blond and straight. It hung below his ears and was kept off his face by a band around his forehead. The hiking boots he wore were scuffed and mud-caked. He looked tired and underfed and dirty.