The Mystery of the Antique Doll Read online

  Trixie was about to comment, when suddenly the plane lifted off the ground. At that moment, she felt as if her stomach had stayed behind, but soon she was able to look down and see the twinkling lights of Westchester rapidly falling away below them. The plane banked gently, then flew straight as they gained altitude. After a while, Trixie could no longer see any lights below, and she realized they were out over the ocean, heading for France.

  A slight jolting sensation pulled Trixie out of her dreams. Thinking that her eyes had been closed only for a second, she rubbed them and tried to focus out the window. It was daylight, and the plane had just touched down. She saw a sign that said ORLY.

  “Are we here already?” she asked. “Didn’t we just take off?”

  Mr. Wheeler laughed heartily as he pulled back the curtain that separated him and Mrs. Wheeler from the two girls.

  Mrs. Wheeler was just sitting back down. “Why don’t you girls freshen up in the bathroom,” Mrs. Wheeler said, smiling. “It’s right at the back of the cabin.”

  “You go first,” Honey mumbled sleepily. “I need more time to wake up.”

  Trixie emerged a few minutes later, feeling a good deal better. Her hair wouldn’t behave at all the way it should, but Trixie didn’t mind. The plane taxied along the runway until it reached a small hangar. By the time Honey had freshened up, the plane had stopped and the passengers were ready to get off. They went through customs, and Mr. Wheeler got them settled in a cab.

  Trixie watched out the window in amazement as the taxi sped from the airport, taking them into the center of Paris. She gasped with delight as they passed by the Arc de Triomphe. It was even more beautiful than she’d imagined.

  The taxi left them at the Hôtel Nova Parc Elysée. After Trixie and Honey had settled into the room they were to share, Mrs. Wheeler stuck her head through the doorway of the adjoining suite.

  “Now, girls,” she said, smiling at the pile of clothes yet to be hung up. “I’m off to Saint Laurent, but I’ve left word with the manager to get you a taxi. It will be at your disposal for the afternoon. You won’t have to pay the driver, because the fee will go on the hotel bill. But here are some francs, just in case. You can buy snacks or whatever you’d like.”

  “Oh, thank you, Mom,” Honey said, as she put the folded bills in her purse. “Will the taxi driver just wait for us while we’re in the museum?”

  “Yes, dear. I’ve asked them to find a driver who speaks English,” Mrs. Wheeler continued, “so you shouldn’t have any problems. Now, have a nice day, and meet us back here by 6 o’clock at the latest.”

  “Okay, Mom,” Honey said. She watched the door close behind her mother, then turned to Trixie. “We’d better turn our watches forward, or we’ll never know what time it is.”

  “Good idea!” Trixie adjusted her watch, and then the two girls took the elevator down to the main lobby.

  “Wait a minute, Honey,” Trixie said, suddenly stopping. “What about Mr. Reid? Shouldn’t we pick up the doll?”

  “I was just thinking about that,” Honey said, as they made their way through the glass doors in search of their taxi. “Let’s pick up the doll first, and then go to the Louvre. We can ask the driver to take us to the address Mr. Reid gave us. I have it right here.” Trixie nodded in agreement, and then stood back as Honey asked the doorman to point out their taxi. The doorman led them to one of the black cabs that was parked a short distance away.

  “Charles, these are the young ladies you will be driving today,” the doorman said. Charles smiled, and opened the door for his passengers.

  “I am told I am to take you to the Louvre,” he said haltingly.

  “That’s correct,” Honey said. “But would you please take us to this address first?”

  Handing the slip of paper to him, she waited as he examined it closely for a moment.

  “We have to pick up a package,” she explained, “and then we’ll be going to the museum.”

  “Very well,” Charles said, and the taxi started off through the streets of Paris.

  As they crossed one of the many bridges over the Seine, several barges were making their way along the river. The smokestack of one barge was tilted back, allowing it to pass under the low bridge.

  Soon the cab was heading through the winding back alleys of a very run-down part of the city. Small, weather-beaten buildings were sandwiched in between blank-faced warehouses and factories. Very few people were in the streets. This wasn’t at all the kind of neighborhood Trixie had been expecting. It was so deserted! Trixie felt a sudden shiver of worry between her shoulder blades.

  Before she could voice her worries to Honey, the cab pulled to a stop before a decrepit little shop. A crooked sign over the door said EMILE FAURIER in faded letters. The sidewalk in front was littered with crumpled papers, and the store looked as if it should have gone out of business years ago. The windows were so encrusted with dirt that it was impossible to see inside.

  “Wait here,” Honey said to Charles, and the girls climbed out of the car. They cautiously opened the rickety door. There was no one inside, but soon a small, stooped man wearing thick glasses emerged from the back. Trixie could see a dusty display of watches on the counter, but the rest of the shop seemed to be empty.

  “We’re 1-looking for André, please,” Honey stammered. She handed the envelope containing the note across the cracked glass of the counter. The man opened it and peered at the note for what seemed like a very long time.

  At last he nodded briefly and went into the back of the shop. In a few minutes he returned, carrying a large wooden box. Pulling a sheet of brown paper from somewhere under the counter, he quickly wrapped the box and tied it with an old piece of string. All this time, he spoke not a word. But when the package was wrapped, he handed it to Honey and flashed a toothless smile.

  “Merci, mademoiselles,” he said with a bit of a lisp, and then shuffled over to sit down in a rickety chair in the corner.

  Honey held the box for a few moments, uncertain about what to do.

  Then she murmured, “Thank you—I mean, you’re welcome,” and turned to leave.

  Trixie held the door for her, and they stepped outside into the street.

  “Wow,” Trixie said. “That was the strangest thing I’ve ever seen. Who was that man anyway? Do you think he was André?”

  “I don’t know,” Honey replied, shifting the box to her other arm. “I wonder what kind of shop that is?”

  “Beats me,” Trixie said. “Maybe it’s a watch shop, but it looks to me as if they haven’t sold a watch in twenty years!”

  She stopped speaking as, from the comer of her eye, she became aware of someone watching them. She turned and saw a tall, thin man with bushy red eyebrows standing in a doorway a few yards away. He was wearing a dingy trench coat and his hat was pushed back to reveal a shock of flaming red hair. Their eyes met and locked for a second. Then the man began to walk toward them.

  “Quick, Honey,” Trixie said. “Get in the taxi!”

  Before Honey could protest, Trixie opened the taxi door and shoved her friend inside. Then, climbing in after her, she quickly slammed the door.

  “Drive somewhere. Anywhere!” Trixie commanded Charles. She pushed down both locks. “And drive fast!”

  “Something is wrong, mademoiselle?” asked Charles.

  “No. We, uh, we’re just in a hurry,” Trixie replied.

  “What is the matter with you?” Honey whispered.

  “There was a strange-looking man out there,” Trixie said, twisting so she could get a better view out the back window. “He was watching us.”

  “What’s wrong with someone watching us?” Honey asked.

  “He seemed too interested in us,” Trixie said, frowning and thinking hard. “But maybe he was more interested in our package. Maybe he was going to steal it from us!”

  “Do you really think so?” Honey gasped. “I think maybe we’d better take it back to the hotel before we go to the Louvre. After all, Mr. Reid
said the doll was very valuable, so perhaps we shouldn’t take any chances. Charles?”

  “Yes, mademoiselle?”

  “Would you mind taking us back to the hotel for a minute?” Honey asked. “We’d like to drop this package off before we go to the museum.”

  “Not at all, mademoiselle.”

  A few moments later the taxi pulled up in front of the reassuringly familiar building. Trixie and Honey dashed up in the elevator, carefully placed the box onto one of the beds, and then went back downstairs. They quickly climbed into the waiting taxi.

  “That’s finally settled,” Honey said with a sigh. “Now let’s get on with the sight-seeing!” Charles put the cab in gear, and off they sped. But Trixie couldn’t stop thinking about the man outside the shop where they’d picked up the doll—if it really was a doll. After all, she thought, we never saw what was in that box, did we?

  But the beautiful view out the window proved to be a much stronger attraction than any thoughts about the mysterious stranger and the peculiar shop. Soon the taxi pulled up in front of an enormous building.

  “Here you are,” said Charles. “The Musée du Louvre.”

  The girls spent all afternoon wandering from room to room, across centuries of art history. Overwhelmed by the beautiful paintings, elegant furniture, and imposing statues, they walked as if in a trance. They managed to see the Gothic and Renaissance collections, the tapestries, the medieval metalwork, and the Renaissance bronzes. At last, they began to slow down.

  Honey glanced at her watch and sighed. “It’s almost 5 o’clock,” she said. “It will probably be closing time soon. We’d better go back to the hotel. I think I need to soak in a hot tub!”

  Trixie agreed emphatically, and they dragged themselves back downstairs to find Charles waiting for them in front. The girls sat in limp silence as Charles drove them back to the hotel. Mrs. Wheeler was there, very glad to see they had made it through their day in Paris safely.

  “Rest for an hour before dinner,” she suggested, when she saw how tired they looked.

  Trixie took off her shoes, and put her weary feet up on the satin bedspread. But after lying quietly for a while, she abruptly sat up again.

  “I’m going to open that box and take a look at this doll,” she said firmly. She carried the package to her bed. “This thing is awfully heavy, Honey. Didn’t you notice when you were carrying it?”

  “It seemed fine to me. But maybe we shouldn’t open it,” Honey said, a worried expression on her face. “Mr. Reid specifically said not to take the doll out. If we open the box, we might not be able to get it closed correctly.”

  “Don’t worry,” Trixie said. “I’ll be careful. Besides, I’m just going to look. I won’t take her out. We’d better make sure we picked up a doll and not something else.”

  “Why would we get something else?” Honey asked, startled.

  “I don’t know,” Trixie answered, as she untied the string and took off the plain brown paper. “Let’s just say I have a feeling, that’s all. What if the man made a mistake? We’d feel pretty silly if we went to all this trouble and didn’t bring back the right package.”

  “I suppose you’re right,” Honey said as she watched Trixie slide the top off the wooden case.

  “Gleeps, Honey!” said Trixie. “Take a look at this!”

  Inside the case was the most beautiful antique doll the girls had ever seen. The doll was dressed in an exquisite, lavender satin gown, with a pale-blue front panel trimmed in lace.

  “Golly,” Trixie said. “She looks just like Marie Antoinette.”

  The delicate porcelain face had a rosebud mouth. The doll’s blonde hair was piled high on her head, and a few fat ringlets fell to her porcelain shoulders. A little beaded purse dangled from her china wrist, and it was obvious to both girls that she was very valuable.

  “No wonder Mr. Reid wanted to be extra careful with this doll,” Trixie said. “She’s probably worth a fortune!”

  “We’d better put her back now,” Honey said. They carefully slid the top back on the wooden case and wrapped it up again.

  Before they had a chance to discuss the doll any further, Mrs. Wheeler knocked on the connecting door.

  “Start getting dressed, girls,” she said. “We’ll be going down to dinner in about fifteen minutes.”

  Trixie and Honey rushed to get ready. Gazing at her reflection in the mirror, Trixie was surprised to see that she looked presentable. Perhaps it was because she was in Paris, or maybe it was the fancy hotel. Trixie turned this way and that, pleased for once with her reflection.

  The girls joined the Wheelers and had a delicious French dinner in the hotel dining room. After a rich dessert, they returned to their room, exhausted, and flopped into bed. As soon as their tired heads hit the fluffy pillows, they were fast asleep.

  During the next two days, Honey and Trixie went on a whirlwind tour of Paris with Mr. and Mrs. Wheeler. On Sunday, they took a sight-seeing trip on the Seine in a glass-covered boat; they went to the top of the Eiffel Tower and got a spectacular view of Paris as the sun was setting; and they ate in a charming little Left Bank cafe.

  On Monday, they went out to Versailles for a tour of the park, the gardens, and the palaces. Trixie was awed by the luxury and wealth of the former French kings. She began to feel a little like Marie Antoinette as she fell under the spell of the huge palace.

  As they came out of the smaller palace, Petit Trianon, Trixie suddenly felt a shiver of warning travel up her spine. Whirling around, she could have sworn she saw the red-haired man.

  She quickly scanned the crowds but he wasn’t there. Unable to tell for certain whether she’d seen him or not, she finally decided it was just her imagination.

  They returned to Paris, had an early dinner, and then taxied quietly out to the airport.

  As they walked through the airport, Trixie again had the distinct feeling they were being followed. Whipping her head around, she caught sight of the man with the red hair and bushy eyebrows standing next to a newspaper vendor.

  This time she was sure. The red hair, the rumpled trench coat, and those strange bushy eyebrows! But what was he doing here? Suddenly Trixie was certain that the man was following them. But why?

  She quickly tugged on Honey’s sleeve. Pulling her back a few paces behind the Wheelers, Trixie urgently whispered in her ear.

  “Remember I told you someone was watching us when we picked up the doll?” she said. “Well, he’s been following us, and he’s back there by the news vendor! Take a look!”

  Honey stopped and looked over her shoulder.

  “Trixie, are you sure?” Honey asked, turning back. “I don’t see anyone by the vendor.”

  “He’s wearing a trench coat and has red hair and bushy eyebrows,” Trixie whispered.

  Honey didn’t see anyone fitting that description. When Trixie turned around, she didn’t see a trace of the man either.

  “Hurry up, girls,” Mrs. Wheeler called. “We’re about to board!”

  Trixie took one last look around, but the mysterious stranger had vanished.

  In a matter of moments, they were climbing the metal steps to the plane. As Trixie settled in and fastened her seat belt, she wondered if perhaps she’d been wrong. But in a few seconds, it wouldn’t matter anyway. They were leaving Paris and the strange red-haired man behind.

  7 * A Suspicious Stranger

  TRIXIE SLEPT right through the six-hour flight back to Westchester Airport. She was still drowsy when she went through customs. Because of the time difference, she was home in the cozy living room of Crabapple Farm by 7:30 Monday evening. She was so tired she almost fell asleep in the middle of reading Bobby his bedtime story. The next morning, however, she felt completely refreshed.

  “Brian, do you think you could help us this afternoon?” Trixie asked at breakfast.

  “Of course,” Brian answered as he finished off his third piece of toast. “What can I do to help our new member of the jet set?”

 
; “Well, the problem is that we have to bring Carl Reid the antique doll we picked up for him in Paris. But I don’t think we should take it to school with us,” Trixie explained. “I was sort of hoping you would drive us over there in the Bob-White station wagon this afternoon.”

  “Sure thing. I’ll meet you two when you get off the school bus,” Brian said. “But, just one question. Why did you do a favor for Mr. Reid? And who is Mr. Reid anyway?”

  “Oh, Brian, you know who he is!” Trixie groaned. “He’s the owner of that new antique store. He just asked us to pick up this doll while we were in Paris.”

  “Well, if you didn’t mind picking it up,” Brian said, “I don’t mind dropping it off. It just seems like an odd thing to do on your weekend in Paris.”

  “It was no trouble at all,” Trixie said airily. But she realized that she wanted to discuss the red-haired man with Brian. “I would like to talk to you about it later if you have some time, though.”

  “Problems?” Brian asked, suddenly concerned.

  “Not really,” Trixie answered, gazing at him fondly. “Just some questions, that’s all.”

  Mart came into the kitchen.

  “You guys are going to miss the bus, if you don’t stop colloquializing,” he reminded them.

  “Oh, thanks for telling us,” Trixie said. She grabbed her jacket and slipped it over her shoulders. She and Brian quickly collected their books and ran out the door. They all got to the end of the driveway just as the school bus rounded the corner.

  During lunch, Trixie told Honey that Brian would drive them to The Antique Barn after school. Honey, who had put the package in her closet, was delighted at the news.

  “I was wondering how we’d get the doll to Mr. Reid without taking it to school first,” she said, greatly relieved.

  “Well, if it weren’t for the Bob-White station wagon,” Trixie said, “we’d really have a problem.”

  The bell rang, and babbling voices, scraping chairs, and shuffling feet made further conversation next to impossible.

  “See you on the bus,” Trixie said, and she made her way to her next class.