The Mystery of the Velvet Gown Page 6

  “Okay, Trixie, what’s going on?” Mart and Brian demanded in unison.

  “Whatever could you mean, dear brothers?” Trixie asked innocently, suddenly very interested in an imaginary spot on a plate she was drying.

  “Neither of us is deaf, dumb, or blind,” Brian said, “and we know how you work.“

  “Unfortunately,” Mart added.

  “So what’s up?” Brian pursued. “I suppose you found Eileen Darcy’s father bound and gagged in some hotel room in White Plains, or something equally incredible.”

  “No, but I wish I had,” Trixie answered, with a rueful smile. “Well, Honey, what do you think—shall we tell them?”

  “There’s really not that much to tell,” Honey said. “At least, nothing that makes any sense. It’s such a hodgepodge right now.”

  “That’s not hard to believe,” Brian said. “I just don’t want you two getting yourselves into some kind of trouble and then not being able to get out of it—especially when you leave us in the dark.”

  “So you’d better start, Trixie, or we’ll have to use some drastic methods, like dragging you outside and throwing you in a snowbank,” Mart threatened.

  Trixie gave up and told the whole story, both Honey’s experiences and her own, ending with the mix-up of the envelopes.

  When she had finished, Mart said, “And?”

  “And nothing. That’s it,” Trixie answered.

  Mart hooted. “This is the best one so far, Trixie! Some schoolgirl shamus you are! You should stick to your schoolwork and chores. If you did those the way you’re supposed to, you wouldn’t have time for all this craziness!”

  “Mart, you have no imagination!” Trixie exclaimed, exasperated.

  “Thank goodness!” Mart laughed. “One imagination is enough for this family. Look, Trixie,” he added more seriously, “all you’ve got is one very upset drama teacher whose father has been kidnapped—in England, remember. Then you’ve got one overprotective boyfriend who likes to come to rehearsals and is interested in some pictures of costumes. No harm in that. Then you’re left with one jealous classmate who has harassed people, so far, but really hasn’t done anything. Now, if you can legitimately put that together into some kind of mystery, I’ll eat a whale.”

  “That’s no dare, Mart Belden. You’d eat anything.” Trixie laughed, but she had a determined look on her face.

  Brian had been quiet throughout the telling of the story, but now he gave his opinion. “I don’t know, Mart, the whole thing sounds a little fishy to me, too—no reference to your dinner plans intended.”

  Mart retorted, “A whale isn’t a fish, it’s a—“

  “I know, I know,” Brian laughed. “But fishy or not, I’d like to take a look at that safe-deposit receipt and those pictures, Trixie.”

  “Oh, no!” Mart groaned. “I can’t believe you’re falling for any of this, Brian. And I used to think you were so level-headed.”

  For all of Mart’s pooh-poohing, he accompanied the others up to Trixie’s room to look at the contents of the envelope.

  “Hmmm,” Brian mused, looking at the pictures. “I thought you said these were photographs, Trixie. They’re not. These are pictures from a book. Look—there’s printing on the back of them.”

  “Or from a catalog!” Trixie exclaimed. “Let me see those again.” Brian handed her the pictures. “There are six of them. Honey, do you know how many costumes were delivered?”

  “Six, I think. Let me see, there was the velvet gown, the cape, and another costume for Romeo, and three more dresses. Yes, six in all.“

  “Now, look at these pictures again, Honey,” Trixie directed. “Are these the same six costumes? I wish I had paid more attention to them! All I remember is the velvet gown, and here’s the picture of that.”

  “I think they’re the same,” Honey said, “but I’m not positive.”

  “You know, Trixie, even if these are the same costumes,” Mart said, “it could be that Miss Darcy’s friend sent the pictures earlier, just to show her what the costumes looked like.”

  “That’s true,” Brian put in, “and she may have a safe-deposit box for any number of reasons—her passport and birth certificate, just to name two. Lots of people have one for documents.

  “What we’re trying to say, Trixie, is that your ‘mystery’ can be easily explained. Your worst problem, if you insist upon having one, is Jane Morgan, and she’s easy enough to handle, I should think.”

  “I suppose you’re both right,” Trixie sighed, “but....”

  “But what?” Brian laughed.

  “It’s just that I have a feeling, that’s all.”

  Mart groaned, and Brian sighed and rolled his eyes ceilingward.

  “You know, her feelings have been right before,” Honey said, in Trixie’s defense.

  “I know,” Brian admitted, “but don’t you think that Miss Darcy has enough on her mind without Trixie bothering her with some crazy notion about costumes?”

  “Okay, okay! Time out. I get the message.” Trixie grinned good-naturedly. “I’d better get downstairs and start wooing Bobby with stories, or he’ll never go to bed. He’s so excited about Reddy coming home tomorrow.”

  “I’ll read to him for a while,” Honey offered, following Trixie down the stairs. Brian and Mart went to their rooms to finish their homework.

  “You weren’t listening to anything they said, were you?” Honey whispered.

  “Not a word!” Trixie laughed. “In fact, my hunches are getting hunchier—if that’s a word. I’ve got to get another look at those costumes— and that catalog!”

  Curious Costumes and Catalogs ● 7

  THE NEXT MORNING, Trixie and Honey awoke to the smell of frying bacon. “I don’t think there’s a more wonderful aroma in the world,” Trixie sighed, rolling over and sitting up. “It’s that kind of warm, get-up-and-get-going smell.“

  “And that’s exactly what we’ve got to do—get up and get going.” Honey yawned and stretched.

  The two girls dressed quickly and hurried down to the breakfast table.

  “What a feast!” Mart exclaimed, eyeing the big stack of golden brown pancakes and the platter of crisp bacon. “This is usually Sunday-morning-breakfast fare. I think Honey should stay over more often, if it means weekday breakfasts like this.” He sat down and quickly filled his plate.

  “I thought I’d make something special this morning,” Mrs. Belden said. “Since you’re driving to school today, there’s no rush to make the bus, and besides, we have a guest.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Belden,” Honey said.

  “And such a polite guest, at that,” Helen Belden added, clearing her throat.

  “Oops! Yeah, Moms, thank you,” Trixie said. Brian and Mart added their thanks, too.

  Brian finished eating first, so he went to pick up Jim and Di. He had called them the night before and offered them a ride to school.

  “I’ll swing by and pick all of you up in about fifteen minutes, so no third helpings this morning, Mart,” Brian warned.

  “I’m so ’cited about Reddy coming home, I can hardly eat any potcakes,” Bobby said.

  “Potcakes?” Honey chuckled. “You mean pancakes.”

  “Oh, yeah,” Bobby giggled.

  Everyone had finished breakfast and was ready to go when Brian sounded the horn of the Bob-White station wagon.

  “I don’t know if we’ll be able to get everyone in the car for the ride home, with Reddy in here,” Brian said as they started off down Glen Road. “Unless, of course, someone’s willing to sit way in the back.”

  “No problem,” Jim offered. “I’ll crawl back there. Reddy should have a full-fledged Bob-White welcome-home party.”

  “Fine with me,” Brian said. A short time later, he was pulling into the student parking lot at Sleepyside High. “Everyone meet here, then, right after school, and we’ll go pick up Reddy.” Trixie ran to her locker, hung up her coat, and grabbed the books she needed for her first two classes. I want to
have a few minutes to talk to Miss Darcy when I return this envelope, she thought, hurrying to the drama teacher’s office.

  At Trixie’s gentle knock Miss Darcy opened the door. “Oh, Trixie, I’ve been waiting for you. Thank you for returning this envelope. Here’s the right one.” Eileen Darcy sighed with obvious relief.

  “I thought it was important, so I—” Trixie began, but she was interrupted by the sound of the warning bell.

  “You’d better go along to your class,” Miss Darcy said as she put the envelope in her desk drawer.

  Trixie quickly looked around the room, hoping to see the catalog that Peter Ashbury had caught her looking at the day before. She spotted it on top of a bookcase.

  “Oh, Miss Darcy, do you mind if I borrow this?” she asked rapidly, reaching for the catalog. “Honey Wheeler is very interested in costume design, and I thought she might like to see it.”

  “Honey is welcome to come in here and look at it,” Eileen Darcy said coolly. “I have a number of other costume books that would probably be more suitable.”

  “I’ll tell her,” Trixie said casually, and put the catalog back on the bookcase. Then she hurried out the door and down the hall to her first class.

  There is something strange about that catalog—I just know it! Trixie thought. She turned things over and over again in her mind, trying to sort through them and find some explanation. Of course, Brian and Mart could be right—it might be nothing. But I've got to get another look at that catalog! I wonder if....

  That's it! Trixie’s eyes widened with surprise at the thought that had just occurred to her.

  She could hardly contain her excitement. As soon as it was time for rehearsal, Trixie raced to the auditorium, hoping Honey would already be there.

  “Just as I thought,” Trixie said aloud, scanning the auditorium.

  “Just as you thought what?”

  Trixie jumped. “Honey! You startled me. I was originally looking for you to tell you something important, but then something else occurred to me. I didn’t even realize I’d said that out loud.”

  The other students were just beginning to enter the auditorium. Trixie pulled Honey to one side.

  “Look who isn’t here today,” Trixie whispered intently.

  “What do you mean? Who isn’t here? Trixie, what are you talking about?”

  “Peter Ashbury. He’s always here at this time.”

  “Maybe he just couldn’t make it today,” Honey said.

  “No,” Trixie said slowly, “I don’t think we’re going to be seeing him around here anymore— now that the costumes have arrived.”

  “What?” Honey asked, completely befuddled. “Listen,” Trixie went on excitedly, “suppose Miss Darcy needed money, a lot of money, like maybe for a ransom payment. If Ashbury works for a costume company, and those costumes are really valuable, and he knows how valuable, and he has the right contacts, he could sell them!”

  “W-e-e-l-l-l,” Honey began uncertainly, “I suppose you might be right. But I can’t imagine that the costumes are that valuable, especially if Miss Darcy’s friend is letting us use them. I also can’t imagine Miss Darcy getting mixed up in something like that.”

  “That’s true,” Trixie said, somewhat crestfallen. “But we’ll find that out soon enough,” she added mysteriously.

  Honey stared. “What do you mean?”

  “First,” Trixie began, but just then Miss Darcy entered the auditorium and called the class to order.

  “Talk to you after rehearsal,” Trixie whispered. Honey hurried to the wardrobe room, and Trixie took her place with the stagehands.

  “We’ll be trying on the costumes from England on Monday,” Miss Darcy announced, and Trixie sighed with disappointment. “The wardrobe crew is working on the other costumes we will need,” Miss Darcy continued, “and we will have fittings for all of them next week. Today the stagehands, under the guidance of Jim Frayne, will finish painting the remaining backdrops and begin collecting props.”

  As the drama teacher turned her attention to the cast, Trixie walked slowly to the wings and began setting up the painting supplies.

  “What’s wrong, Trixie?” Jim asked. “I thought you were so excited about everyone working together on this production. Are you losing interest?”

  “Actually, Jim, my interest is somewhere else right now,” Trixie responded absentmindedly.

  “I’ve heard rumblings along those lines from Mart and Brian.”

  “What have they been saying?” Trixie demanded hotly.

  “Now, now,” Jim cautioned her. “You always blame my temper on my red hair. What am I going to blame yours on, those curls?”

  Trixie blushed and ran her fingers through her hair self-consciously. “Oh, Jim, you know how they make fun of me,” she cried, “and I know I’m right about this!”

  “Don’t underestimate them,” Jim said gently. “They just don’t want you getting too carried away. Besides, Trixie Belden, I have a bone to pick with you. Why didn’t you let me in on any of your suspicions? I realize that I’m not part of the Belden-Wheeler detective team, but I certainly have an interest in what you’re doing.”

  “It all happened so fast,” Trixie said defensively, “and you know Honey and me when things start to happen.”

  “I know, I know,” Jim laughed, “but just don’t go taking a swan dive before you know how deep the water is, Trix.”

  Trixie smiled and said, “We’d better stop talking and start working. Everyone else is already hard at work, and you’re supposed to be setting an example, Mr. Senior Aide,” she added teasingly.

  Jim laughed and went to help a group of freshmen work on one of the set designs.

  As soon as class ended, Trixie ran to the costume room to meet Honey.

  “Honey,” she whispered as the other students filed past, “are the costumes from England with all the others?”

  “No,” Honey answered. “I don’t know where they are. I haven’t seen them since Miss Darcy opened the boxes in the auditorium yesterday.“

  “Hmmmmm,” Trixie said. “Okay. Come with me.”

  “I hope we’re going to the cafeteria. I’m famished, and it’s lunchtime,” Honey said as she followed Trixie down the hall.

  “I’m hungry, too, but we’ve got to do some sleuthing first. We’re going to take a look at that catalog.”

  “Trixie!” Honey cried. “We can’t just walk into Miss Darcy’s office. What if she comes in, or Peter Ashbury shows up, or—or—anything?” she concluded in exasperation.

  “No, no, Honey!” Trixie cried in dismay. “We’re not going to sneak into Miss Darcy’s office! She’ll be right there! I’ve already got an excuse for going to see her,” Trixie explained. “I asked Miss Darcy if you could look at the catalog. I told her you were very interested in costume design.”

  Honey sighed and gave Trixie a dubious look.

  “Don’t look at me like that, Honey,” Trixie said desperately. “I thought we were a team. Don’t you want to solve this mystery?”

  “You know I do, Trixie, and you know I think you’re terrifically smart about clues, and I trust your feelings, but....”

  “But what?” Trixie asked cautiously.

  “Well, this time I don’t know,” Honey replied uncomfortably. “There doesn’t seem to be that much to go on, and Miss Darcy is a friend of Miss Trask’s, and the more I’ve thought about it— Well, couldn’t we just go to Miss Trask and ask her to talk to Miss Darcy? I’m sure she wouldn’t tell us if something were wrong, but she might tell Miss Trask.”

  Trixie’s face was set with firm determination. She looked directly at Honey.

  “Honey Wheeler, I haven’t heard such squeamishness from you since we found the diamond ring on the floor of the gatehouse and you kept wanting to turn it over to the police.”

  “I know,” Honey sighed. “But it just seems kind of hard to believe that someone as nice as Miss Darcy and someone as handsome as Peter Ashbury—”

  Trixie
hooted. “So that's it! What’s that line from Romeo and Juliet: ‘What’s in a name?’ Well, what’s in a face, Honey? Good-looking people can be involved in crime just as easily as anyone else, and so can ‘nice’ people.”

  “I know that. I just mean—well, if someone looks so nice, how could they...? You know what I mean,” Honey finished miserably.

  “I know,” Trixie reassured her. “But we’re wasting time. If we want to get to the drama office and still have time to eat lunch, we’d better hurry. All you have to do is to keep talking to Miss Darcy about costume design while we look through the catalog. I also want to get a look at the prices of some of those costumes.”

  “Okay,” Honey answered nervously.

  “And don’t be afraid,” Trixie reassured her. “We aren’t doing anything wrong. We’re just being—” she stopped, searching for the right words—“interested students.”

  They arrived at the drama club office and knocked. “Come in,” Miss Darcy called.

  “Hi,” Trixie said casually, poking her head in the door. “I told Honey about the costume catalog, and she was anxious to see it. We had a few minutes, so we thought we’d stop in.”

  Eileen Darcy looked at them curiously. “Of course,” she said. “Please come in. Here is one on eighteenth-century costumes.” Miss Darcy selected a book from the shelf and handed it to Honey. “And here’s another one on Early Am—”

  “Where is the catalog?” Trixie interrupted. Then she stopped, regretting that she had spoken so quickly.

  “The catalog?” Eileen Darcy asked.

  “I—I didn’t mean to interrupt,” Trixie stammered. “It was the one with all the beautiful Shakespearean costumes. I saw it on top of the bookcase this morning.”

  “I’d rather not lend that one to you right now,” Miss Darcy said coldly. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have only a few minutes to eat my lunch before rehearsal time. If you’d like to borrow these two books for now, next week you can stop in after class someday and look at the Shakespearean catalog.” Her tone was firm, dismissing them.

  “We’re sorry to bother you,” Trixie apologized. “I know you must be worried about your father. Has there been any news yet?”