The Mystery at Maypenny's Page 7

  “In conclusion,” he said, “I want to remind you that these are the facts. And it is fact, not fantasy, that we must use to form an opinion on this issue.”

  Mark turned and walked back to his seat. Trixie began to applaud loudly, and a few other students joined in. But the loudest sound in the auditorium was that of mumbling, and there were a few boos from the back of the room.

  The boos turned to cheers as Jim VerDoorn stood and walked to the lectern. The boy looked embarrassed, Trixie thought. He seemed to know that his fellow students were applauding because they expected another emotional speech like the one his partner had made. But Jim was not a debater. He was a quiet, serious student whose main interest was science, not public speaking. Trixie hoped that the audience wouldn’t turn against him if he couldn’t live up to Todd’s speaking ability.

  Jim cleared his throat nervously. “The second affirmative speaker says that my partner didn’t present the facts about the International Pine issue. I agree. But that does not mean that the facts do not exist.”

  Jim was speaking so quietly that Trixie found herself leaning forward in order to hear what he was saying.

  Jim cleared his throat again. “It is a fact,” he said, “that forty-seven endangered species of plants exist in the area where International Pine proposes to build its expansion. Ten acres may not seem like much land to the affirmative speakers, but if they represent part of the last place on earth where these plants grow, then those ten acres are too much to lose.

  “It is also a fact,” Jim continued, “that the pollution level in Sleepyside has risen five percent since International Pine first built its factory in this area. It is true that the level is still nowhere near that of New York City. But it is higher than it once was, and it will be even higher if the expansion is completed.”

  As Jim VerDoorn continued, listing facts about the increase in crime in industrial areas, the possibility of water pollution, and the health problems of factory workers, Trixie found herself feeling happy and angry at the same time. She was happy because the facts Jim was listing in his quiet, unexpressive voice were the facts that Brian had hoped would come out in the debate. But she was angry because they were coming out so late.

  Brian had presented the facts of the affirmative case right at the beginning. Todd and his partner had had plenty of time to tear them apart. But with the facts of the negative case coming out only now, when the debate was almost over, it would be hard for Brian to effectively rebut them.

  “Those are the facts that oppose the expansion of International Pine Company,” Jim said finally. “It is not a fantasy. It is a fantasy to think that nature and industry can exist side by side without one destroying the other.” Jim gathered up his papers hastily, then turned and walked quickly back to his chair.

  Once again the audience applauded, but Trixie could sense a difference in the applause. It was more respectful than the applause for Todd had been. Trixie was glad that the quiet science student had had a chance to be heard.

  “He was really good,” Honey said softly. “Wasn’t he?” Trixie said. Then she felt her stomach do a flip-flop. “Oh, Honey,” she said, “Brian has to speak next!”

  Brian had risen from his chair and was bending over the table, straightening his papers. He ran his hand through his dark hair, squared his shoulders, and walked toward the lectern.

  “I want to thank the second negative speaker,” he said calmly. “I am grateful, as I’m sure all of you are, that the facts of this case have finally been brought out.”

  For a moment, Trixie wondered if Brian would even try to counter the facts, but he continued.

  “Even though I’m grateful for the facts and do not dispute them, there was one comment made by the second negative speaker that was not a fact. Nature and industry can exist side by side. With the right precautions, International Pine can complete its expansion, bringing needed jobs to Sleepyside, while doing minimal damage to the environment. Here’s how that could be—” Brian broke off suddenly, staring over the heads of the people in the audience. In the silence, Trixie heard a commotion coming from the back of the auditorium. Following Brian’s gaze, she turned in her seat and looked toward the doors on the far side of the room.

  A knot of people had formed there. They seemed to be struggling with someone, and Trixie heard a voice shout, “Stop him!”

  Just then, someone broke through the knot of people and ran down the aisle of the auditorium. A murmur ran through the crowd as they watched.

  “Trixie!” Honey exclaimed, clutching at her friend’s arm. “Isn’t that John Score?”

  Even at that distance, Trixie recognized the scarecrow figure dressed in ragged clothes. “You’re right, Honey. That’s who it is.”

  Score ran down the aisle as fast as he could and vaulted onto the stage. He dashed to the lectern and leaned toward the mike. “This is what International Pine calls a minimum of damage,” he said, waving something aloft. “Is this what you want to happen?”

  Trixie realized that what he was holding was a dead duck. As the other students in the audience realized it, too, there were gasps and stifled screams.

  Mr. McLane emerged from the wings. He walked over to John Score, grabbed his arm, and tried to pull him away from the microphone.

  John Score held his ground. “This is what industry means,” he shouted. “It means dead wildlife, increased pollution, extinction of endangered species. It must be stopped! It must be stopped now!”

  The assistant principal ran out onto the stage and grabbed John Score’s other arm. Together he and Mr. McLane wrestled the thin young man off the stage and into the wings.

  The entire audience was in an uproar. The students were all on their feet; some of those toward the back were even standing on their chairs to get a better view.

  Trixie and Honey, from their seats in the third row, could see everything. To Trixie, the most interesting thing in sight was John Score’s waffle-stomper boots.

  She turned to Honey, her blue eyes wide and her face so pale that the freckles across her nose stood out in sharp contrast. “I know where he got that duck!” she exclaimed.

  Shocking News • 8

  THE UPROAR in the auditorium was so great that Honey didn’t even try to speak. She just widened her eyes in a look that said, as plainly as words could, “Oh, Trixie, do you really think that was the same duck we spotted in the game preserve yesterday?”

  Trixie, in turn, raised her eyebrows and cocked her head to one side, inviting her friend to think of a better explanation.

  Mr. McLane walked back out onto the stage, adjusting his tie and smoothing his hair. The self-confident air he usually showed when appearing before an audience was gone. He looked pale and shaken. He walked up to the microphone, cleared his throat, and said loudly, “Would you all please take your seats and be quiet!”

  He had to repeat the message twice before the auditorium became quiet enough for him to continue. Even then, he had to speak over a hum of voices. “I am not going to comment on what happened here today,” he said. “The young man who just disrupted our debate has been taken into police custody, and I hope that the full story will come out in a court of law. Obviously, we cannot ask our four debaters to continue under these circumstances. We ask that you remain here until the bell rings, then proceed to your next class. Thank you.”

  Mr. McLane turned and walked quickly off the stage, and the uproar in the auditorium began again. It seemed to Trixie that she and Honey must be the only ones in the room who were not talking about what had just happened.

  Honey nudged Trixie’s arm and nodded toward the stage. Following her gaze, Trixie saw that Todd, Mark, and Jim were clustered together, talking excitedly. Brian sat by himself at the table, slowly gathering up the notes and papers he had used during the debate.

  Tears welled in Trixie’s eyes as she realized how disappointed Brian must be. He had taken a big risk to make sure that the International Pine controversy would have an airing
at Sleepyside Junior-Senior High. But after what had just happened, nobody would remember the facts and figures that he and Todd had put so much time and effort into gathering. John Score and the dead duck had wiped that out of everyone’s memory.

  Then Trixie’s chest tightened as she realized that there was another reason for Brian’s quietness. It was the Bob-Whites who had told John Score that the debate would be taking place. Trixie thought back to that night at Mr. Maypenny’s. No, she thought, it wasn't the Bob-Whites who told John Score about the debate. I was the one who mentioned it to him. She let out a groan.

  Honey reached over and squeezed her hand. “Brian will be all right,” she said, almost shouting to be heard above the other students’ talking.

  Trixie looked back at her best friend, her blue eyes brimming with tears. She bit her lower lip to keep her chin from trembling. If he is, she thought, it's no thanks to me.

  After school that afternoon, Brian assured his sister that he didn’t think it was her fault that John Score had ruined the debate. “You just gave him a piece of information, Trixie,” he said. “He was the one who decided how to use it. Blaming yourself for what he did would be like blaming a newspaper for encouraging bank robbers just because they report successful robberies.”

  Trixie tried to feel convinced, but she spent the evening alone in her room. She knew that the family would be talking about what had happened that afternoon, and she just didn’t want to hear anything more about it.

  Her sleep was troubled, filled with bad dreams about dead ducks and Mr. Maypenny being forced off his land. She awoke still feeling tired and went downstairs to breakfast slowly, without the energy she usually felt at the beginning of the -day.

  She found her family already gathered around the table for breakfast. Except for Bobby, who was playing with his cereal, they were all looking attentively at her father, who was reading to them from that day’s edition of the Sleepyside Sun.

  “ ‘After Score was wrestled off the stage by two faculty members, he was taken into custody by Sleepyside police,’ ” her father read. “ ‘He appeared in night court, where he was charged with disturbing the peace and fined seventy-five dollars.’ ”

  Trixie took her place at the table quietly so as not to disturb her father’s reading. Even though she wanted to avoid the subject of the debate, the curious part of her also wanted to know what had happened to John Score. And, as always, the curious part was winning out.

  “ ‘The judge also warned Score to leave the Sleepyside area immediately,’ ” her father continued. “ ‘He said he was issuing the warning for the sake of the young environmentalist, who has managed to divide public opinion and create a number of enemies during his short stay in the community. The judge said he felt Score would be in danger if he stayed in the area after the incident, and he added that if Score did not leave the area, he would be taken into custody for his own protection.’ ” Peter Belden set the paper on the table, looked around at his family, and turned his attention back to his bacon and eggs.

  “It looks as though we’ve seen the last of John Score,” Brian observed.

  “I certainly hope so,” Helen Belden said. “Not that I dislike the young man personally,” she added hastily. “I don’t approve of his tactics, but I do think he sincerely believes in the cause he’s working for.”

  “Then why do you hope he’s left Sleepyside?” Trixie asked.

  “I think the judge was right,” Mrs. Belden replied. “John Score has made enemies since he’s been in this town. There are men with families to support who have been out of work for months. International Pine is a ray of hope for them. They see Score as a threat to that hope, and I’m afraid they might resort to violence against him if he stayed in town.”

  Trixie shivered. She and Honey had often gotten themselves into dangerous situations accidentally while trying to solve a mystery. Still, it was hard for her to imagine somebody intentionally getting himself into situations like that, as John Score must do in nearly every community he worked in.

  “Is that all the paper has to say about the debate?” Mart asked his father.

  Peter Belden picked up the paper again and turned the page. “Several of the citizens of Sleepyside must have hand-delivered letters to the editor yesterday afternoon,” he said. “The entire editorial page is devoted to what happened at the debate.”

  The Beldens continued to eat in silence while their father scanned the letters. “The opinions on what happened yesterday seem to be as evenly divided as the opinions on the expansion itself,” he said finally. “One letter says that Score’s act ‘only proves how irrational the objections to the expansion, in general, have been.’ But another says that ‘Score showed in a shocking but effective way the damage we will do to our environment if we allow the plans for expansion to proceed.’ ”

  Brian shook his head ruefully. “I really believed that a good debate would help people make up their minds on the basis of facts,’ he said. I guess I should have known better. Those letters prove that nobody’s interested in facts—except ones that support their own opinions. If both sides can use what John Score said yesterday to support their beliefs, then anything I’d have been able to say certainly wouldn’t have made any difference.”

  “Don’t be too hard on yourself, son,” Peter Belden said. “You did an excellent job of presenting one side of the case, and from what you said last night, Jim VerDoorn did just as good a job for the other side. That will make a difference. Remember, the people who have their minds made up are always the loudest. But there are also a lot of people who haven’t decided yet. They’re the ones you and Jim were trying to reach. Don’t be too sure that you didn’t have some success.”

  Brian smiled appreciatively at his father.

  “Thanks, Dad,” he said. “I had lost track of the fact that a lot of people haven’t made up their minds yet—even though I’m one of them. I guess the turnout at the meeting Saturday will be the best proof of whether or not our little speeches did any good.”

  “What meeting on Saturday?” Trixie asked.

  “If you were prone to soil your delicate digits with newsprint, you would be aware of the fact that the town council will be in session this Saturday to discuss, in public and with the public, the International Pine controversy,” Mart told her.

  Trixie flushed, angry at Mart’s superior tone and embarrassed that she hadn’t read about the meeting in the newspaper. “What’s the point of the meeting?” she asked meekly.

  “The town council has discovered—with some help from John Score, I suspect—that the parcel of land International Pine wants isn't zoned for industrial use,” her father told her. “The council has the right to rezone the land, which would keep the issue alive. They’re meeting Saturday to listen to public opinion. Then they’ll vote on whether or not to rezone the land.”

  “If the town council votes in favor of the new zoning, they’re telling International Pine that the people want them to expand. Then the company will probably step up its effort to buy the parcel of land,” Brian said.

  “Oh,” Trixie said. She felt a twinge of fear as she realized that Mr. Maypenny could be under even more pressure to sell after Saturday’s meeting. She sighed. At least it will all be settled, she thought. Right now, I think that's all I care about.

  By Friday, the commotion over the debate had subsided. When Trixie and her brothers got on the bus that morning, the excited din of the two previous days had returned to the usual dull roar. Even the bus driver looked less harried.

  It was easy for the Beldens to spot the other Bob-Whites in the crowd. They were a small, quiet pocket in the middle of the chatter.

  “Dan has something to tell all of us,” Honey said as soon as the Beldens had sat down. “He wanted to wait until we were all together.”

  “Go ahead, Dan,” Brian said quickly.

  Dan took a deep breath. He was naturally shy, but Trixie could see that his reluctance to speak was caused by something more t
han that.

  “I need some advice,” Dan began softly. He paused again, then forced himself to continue. “Over the past three days, I’ve found five more dead ducks in the preserve.”

  “That’s pretty unusual, isn’t it?” Brian asked.

  Dan nodded his head. “There are usually a few in the spring, when they’ve just finished the long flight north. This time of year, finding more than one or two a month is very unusual. The worst part is that I haven’t even been looking for them. The five I’ve found were all on or near the trails. I don’t know how many more there might be back in the woods.”

  “My advice is to tell Mr. Maypenny about it,” Trixie said.

  Dan grinned wryly. “I did tell him. That’s the part I need advice about.”

  “I—I don’t understand,” Trixie said. “Mr. Maypenny knows more about that preserve than anyone. He should know what to do.”

  Dan nodded. “Exactly,” he said. “But when I told him about the ducks I’d found, he acted strange. He didn’t ask me for more details or anything. He just got snappish and said a few dead ducks were nothing to get excited about. Then he turned and walked away.”

  “Maybe he was just saying what he really felt,” Brian suggested. “He’s lived in those woods for a long time. He’s seen an awful lot more than we have.”

  Dan shook his head. “I don’t have any proof of what I’m about to say,” he began slowly. “I—I hate to say it at all, because I wouldn’t want to get Mr. Maypenny into any trouble. But it seemed to me that he wasn’t a bit surprised by what I told him. That could mean, as you say, that he’s not concerned. Or it could be that he wasn’t surprised because he’d found some dead ducks, too. I got the feeling that he had—and that he was covering up the fact that he’s actually very concerned about it.”