The Mystery at Maypenny's Read online

  “If Mr. Maypenny were concerned, he’d go right to Daddy and tell him about it,” Honey said. “He takes his job very seriously.”

  “He’s also serious about holding onto his land,” Dan said. “With Mr. Wheeler urging him to sell part of it, the last thing Mr. Maypenny would do is let your father know about a possible epidemic..”

  “I see what you mean,” Brian said. “If Mr. Wheeler thought the preserve wasn’t a healthy place for wildlife, there would be no reason at all for him not to sell.”

  Dan nodded and said nothing.

  There was a moment of silence before Jim spoke up. “I understand your problem, Dan. Mr. Maypenny is your boss, as well as your friend. If he tells you to ignore what’s happening, you can’t very well go over his head to report it to Dad. Still, it’s my father’s land, and he has a right to know what’s going on.”

  Again Dan Mangan nodded, looking more miserable by the moment.

  “I know we’ve been on different sides of this issue for a long time. Even so, I’m not interested in causing trouble for you or Mr. Maypenny. I’ll tell you what I would like to do,” Jim said. “I’ll go for a ride in the preserve this afternoon. If I find a duck, I’ll report it to my father. I won’t tell him what you’ve just told us.” Jim paused and looked steadily at Dan. “I’ll do my best to let my father know about this without getting him excited and without making him think it should influence his decision about selling to International Pine. Will you trust me?”

  Dan’s black eyes looked searchingly into Jim’s green ones for a moment. “I guess I’ll have to,” he said finally.

  Trixie let out a sigh of relief. Even though Dan’s problem was far from solved, what had just happened proved, at least, that the Bob-Whites had managed to keep themselves from being divided by their opinions on International Pine. Soon the city council would vote and the decision would be out of their hands. She hoped that things could then return to normal.

  Trixie was setting the table for dinner that evening when Honey called.

  “Jim found two more ducks, Trixie,” Honey told her friend breathlessly. “He said he didn’t even have to look very hard. They were just there, lying right by the path. He says there’s no telling how many more there might be off in the woods.”

  Trixie sat down heavily in a chair by the phone. “I feel glad and sad at the same time,” she said. “I’m glad that Jim found the ducks so he can report it to your father without getting Dan involved. But I wish there weren’t any dead ducks in the preserve at all.”

  “I know what you mean,” Honey said. “Jim was wonderful about arranging things so that Dan wouldn’t be suspected, though. It looked like he was just going riding as usual. Then, when he found the ducks, he came home and got a shovel and a burlap bag and went back for them. Otherwise, he thought Regan or somebody might see him ride out and realize later that he knew what he was looking for.”

  “Jim would think of that,” Trixie said proudly. She had had a special feeling for Jim ever since she and Honey had found him hiding out in his uncle’s house, a lonely and frightened runaway. Jim had learned to take care of himself when he was living with his wicked stepfather, Jonesy. He hadn’t forgotten how just because he’d been adopted by the Wheelers and now lived in the luxurious Manor House.

  “What did your father say when Jim showed him the ducks?” Trixie asked, suddenly aware that she’d forgotten about that most important part of Jim’s plan.

  “He hasn’t showed them to him yet. Daddy’s in New York City on business and won’t be home until seven or eight o’clock,” Honey told her.

  “Oh.” Trixie couldn’t hide the disappointment in her voice. “Well, please be sure to keep me posted.”

  “I will,” Honey promised.

  Trixie said good-bye and hung up the phone, feeling frustrated. It was hard to believe that it had been only a couple of weeks since she and the other Bob-Whites had gone to Mr. Maypenny’s and he’d told them about the offer from International Pine. Already it seemed as though the controversy had always been part of life in Sleepy-side, never getting settled, always becoming more complicated. When Honey had called, Trixie had been sure that at least this latest part of the problem had been taken care of. But Mr. Wheeler wouldn’t even be notified of the seeming epidemic in his preserve for another couple of hours.

  Trixie was nervous and edgy for the rest of the evening as she waited for the phone to ring. Once she even went to the phone to call Honey, but she hung up the receiver without dialing. It was important that Mr. Wheeler think Jim had found those ducks by accident. If Trixie called to ask Honey about his reaction too soon, Mr. Wheeler might suspect that the Bob-Whites had known about the dead ducks all along.

  When bedtime came, Honey still hadn’t called. Trixie tossed and turned for what seemed like hours before she finally dropped off to sleep.

  Trixie was awakened the next morning by the ringing of the telephone. She lay still in her bed, holding her breath, waiting for someone to call to her. Instead, she heard her mother’s voice continuing to talk. She rolled over with a groan, wondering what was keeping her friend from calling.

  Trixie threw back the covers, crawled out of bed, and dressed hurriedly. She’d have to think of some excuse for calling Honey. She simply couldn’t wait another minute to find out what had happened.

  She was tying the laces of her sneakers when there was a knock at her bedroom door. “Come on in,” she called.

  Mart pushed the door open and stood in the doorway, leaning against the jam. “At last legerity conquers somnolence, I see,” he said archly.

  Trixie cocked her head and looked up at her brother, who seemed to be getting taller every day. “I think that means I’m awake,” she said. “Well, almost. I was awake half the night wondering what happened when Jim told Mr. Wheeler about finding the ducks.”

  Mart nodded, suddenly serious. “There hasn’t been any word this morning. Maybe they don’t have anything to tell us yet. Mr. Wheeler often comes home later than he plans to.”

  Trixie snapped her fingers. “Of course!” she exclaimed. “I hadn’t even thought about that. I wish you’d told me that before I went to bed. I would have ‘conquered somnolence’ a lot sooner.”

  Mart laughed. “Just plain asking is still the best way to get information. I can’t tell what’s worrying you through telepathy, I assure you.” Trixie wrinkled her nose at her sandy-haired brother. “It seems to me,” she drawled, “that you should be able to read my mind, since everyone says we look enough alike to be twins.” Mart blushed. He hated being reminded of the close resemblance between himself and his sister. “Not to change the subject,” he said, “but the reason I came up here was to ask if you want to go to the town council meeting with Brian and me this afternoon.”

  “Gleeps!” Trixie shrieked. “I’d forgotten all about the meeting. Of course I want to go! I’ll have to get busy and do my chores so that Moms will let me. Oh, and Mart, that’s a perfect excuse for calling Honey!” Trixie bounded to her feet and almost knocked Mart over as she ran out of her room and galloped down the stairs to the telephone.

  She was just reaching for the receiver when the telephone rang, startling her. She picked it up and said, “Honey? What happened? What did your father say?”

  “Oh, Trixie,” Honey wailed, “I have the most awful news!”

  Suddenly Trixie wished that she could hang up the phone and run away. I've been so eager to hear the news that I didn’t even worry that it might be bad, she thought.

  Aloud she said, “What is it, Honey?”

  “Jim told Daddy about the ducks last night,” Honey said. “Daddy called a friend of his at the state wildlife department, and the friend sent someone right over to pick up the ducks. They put them through tests at the state lab last night to try to find out what killed them.”

  “That doesn’t sound so bad,” Trixie said. “It’s lucky your dad knows somebody at the wildlife department so he can get an answer back so—”
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br />   “Trixie!” Honey’s usually soft voice was sharp as she interrupted. “The answer did come back, just a few minutes ago.” Honey’s voice broke and she started to cry. “Oh, Trixie, those ducks had botulism!”

  An Inconclusive Vote ● 9

  TRIXIE STOOD motionless, the telephone still held to her ear, staring at a picture on the wall. The word botulism sounded familiar, but she didn’t really know what it meant. From the sound of Honey’s voice, she wasn’t sure she wanted to know.

  “Are you still there, Trixie?” Honey asked in a worried voice.

  Trixie nodded, then realized her friend couldn’t hear a nod over the telephone. “Y-Yes,” she stammered. “I just don’t— What’s botulism?”

  “It’s a disease,” Honey told her. “It’s caused by bacteria—germs. The germs are an-aer-o-bic.” Honey said the word slowly, syllable by syllable. “Jim says that means they grow without air, so the swamp areas where ducks feed are perfect for them.”

  “What does all that mean?” Trixie demanded. Honey sighed. “We don’t really know yet. Investigators from the wildlife department are going to start right away to find the feeding area that has the botulism germs in it. What happens next will depend on when—or if—they find it.“

  “C-Can this botulism hurt people?” Trixie asked. “This botulism can’t,” Honey replied. “There are several different kinds. The one they found in these ducks is harmless to humans. It creates an awful smell in the ducks, too, so other animals wouldn’t touch the meat. But the man from the wildlife department says that where one type of botulism exists, another might, too. That’s why he’s going to advise everyone to stay out of the area and to avoid contact with any of the wildlife in the preserve until they’ve found the source and taken care of it.”

  “Avoid contact?” Trixie repeated. “Does that mean no hunting and no fishing?”

  “Yes, it does,” Honey said sadly.

  “What about Mr. Maypenny?” Trixie asked. “He lives off the game he traps and shoots on his property.”

  “Daddy already talked to Mr. Maypenny about this,” Honey said. “Jim went along, and he told me all about it. He said he thought Mr. Maypenny had a guilty look on his face when Daddy told him, but he said he didn’t think Daddy noticed it.”

  “That’s good news, anyway,” Trixie said. “Jim must have done a good job of keeping your father from getting suspicious.”

  “I told you he had,” Honey said. “Mr. Maypenny didn’t seem to suspect that Dan had anything to do with it, either, Jim said. That didn’t keep him from getting fighting mad when Daddy told him about the wildlife department’s advice not to hunt or fish on the land for a while.”

  Trixie groaned. “I can just hear him,” she said. She lowered her voice in an imitation of Mr. Maypenny’s. “ ‘I’ve been hunting and fishing on this land since before you were born, Matt Wheeler!’ ”

  In spite of herself, Honey giggled. “That’s it exactly,” she said. Then her voice grew serious again. “That’s not all, though. He went on to say that there had never been a case of botulism in the preserve until International Pine moved in. That made Daddy mad, according to Jim. He shouted, ‘Botulism is not a by-product of furniture making, you old goat.’ ”

  Trixie groaned again.

  “Then,” Honey continued, “Mr. Maypenny began shouting about those greedy fools building their smoky factory right on the marshy area where the ducks have fed since Indian days, so the ducks have had to go to some germy swamp for food.”

  “Do you suppose that’s really why the ducks are getting botulism all of a sudden, Honey?”

  “Jim says it could be,” Honey reported. “I think he’s having second thoughts about whether Daddy should sell any land to International Pine.”

  “Oh, woe,” Trixie moaned. “I thought this whole thing would be settled today after the town council meeting. Now even if they vote to change the zoning laws, Jim might persuade your dad not to sell, and the whole thing will probably start over again on another parcel of land.”

  “The company might decide not to build in this area at all,” Honey reminded her. “That would be too bad, too—I mean, if the council decides that most of the people in Sleepyside want the factory here.”

  “That reminds me,” Trixie said. “Mart and Brian and I are going to the meeting. Would you like to come along?”

  Honey hesitated. “Daddy and Jim are going together,” she said. “They offered to take me along, but— Oh, Trixie, I think I’d rather go with you. I’m afraid they’re both going to lose their tempers during that meeting. Does that sound cowardly?”

  Trixie pictured the big, redheaded Matt Wheeler. Then she remembered the look of cold fury in Jim’s eyes the few times she’d ever seen him get really angry. “If that’s cowardly,” she told Honey, “then you can dress me like a chicken, because I wouldn’t want to be around them, either. We’ll pick you up around twelve-thirty.”

  “I’ll be ready,” Honey promised.

  By the time Honey and the three Beldens arrived at town hall, the parking lot outside was filled with cars. Brian maneuvered his jalopy skillfully into a tiny parking place a block away, and the four young people ran all the way to the building and up the marble steps.

  The meeting room was jammed with people, and the four Bob-Whites were forced to stand in the back of the room. Scanning the crowd, Trixie spotted two redheads in the front row. She nudged Honey and pointed. “There are Jim and your father,” she said.

  Honey craned her neck to see them. “They won’t miss a thing from where they’re sitting,” she said. Then she giggled. “Nobody will miss them, either.”

  The five town council members were sitting at a long table facing the crowd. The chairman of the council had a gavel, which he now pounded on the table. “I’d like to call this meeting to order,” he said loudly, making his voice heard above the noise of the crowd. “Before we start the discussion on the rezoning, George Gemlo, who is the head of the local office of the state wildlife department, has asked if he could make an important announcement. George?”

  George Gemlo, who had been leaning against the wall at the front of the room, stepped forward. “The announcement I have to make today isn’t a very pleasant one, I’m afraid. We have confirmed two cases of botulism in ducks found in the game preserve owned by Matthew Wheeler.” The reaction from the crowd was immediate. Shocked gasps and cries of “Oh, no!” rose above the rumble.

  George Gemlo held his hands up to request silence. “The strain of botulism in these ducks is not—I repeat, not—harmful to humans. However, it is very important that we find the source of the bacteria and get rid of it. Employees of the state wildlife department are already at work on the problem. What I would like to request is that everyone try to avoid going into the wildlife areas until further notice. Your presence will only hamper our investigations. I’ve contacted the Sun, and that request, as well as more details on the cases of botulism we’ve found, will appear in tomorrow’s paper. In the meantime, I thought giving you this information now and asking you to spread the word among your friends and neighbors would give us a head start in getting the cooperation we need. Thank you.”

  Gemlo returned to his place against the front wall, and the council chairman banged his gavel again to silence the noisy crowd. “All right, all right,” he said. “You can talk about this all you want to when you get home. For now, we must move on to the business that brought us here today. That’s the proposed rezoning.

  “Now, what we’re going to do is take an hour to listen to comments from you folks. If you have something to say, stand and be recognized. Then give your name and address and make your statement. The secretary will write it all down. Each person will be given just three minutes to speak so we can hear from as many of you as possible in an hour. Understood?” He scanned the crowd, waiting for questions. When there were none, he banged his gavel again. “All right,” he said, “let’s begin.”

  Honey’s father was the first o
ne to his feet. The chairman nodded in his direction, and he turned and faced the crowd. “My name is Matthew Wheeler, and I own the Manor House. I also own the land—part of the land—that International Pine wants for its expansion, the land that will have to be rezoned in order for that to take place.

  “I want you all to know that my decision to agree to sell this parcel of land was not reached lightly. I had several long discussions with Peter Belden, who works for the Sleepyside bank. He convinced me of the serious need for industry in this community. It was that information on which I finally based my decision.

  “I also want you to know that my concern for nature and for wildlife is as strong as it has ever been. The sale of this parcel of land to International Pine is not the first step in turning my game preserve into an industrial development. It is a single step that will, I hope, improve the quality of life in this community. Thank you.”

  As Mr. Wheeler sat down, there was a smattering of applause—along with a few jeers—from the audience. Trixie looked at Honey out of the corner of her eye and saw that her friend’s hazel eyes were brimming with tears. Knowing that Honey felt guilty for not sitting with her father and brother to share the brunt of the crowd’s reaction, Trixie reached over and squeezed her arm reassuringly. Honey turned her head and smiled a weak but grateful smile.

  When Trixie turned back to the crowd, another speaker had already been recognized and had started to speak. “I’ve been against this expansion business since the minute I heard about it,” he was saying. “I’m against it even more since I heard George Gemlo’s announcement a few minutes ago. This is the first time I’ve ever heard of a case of botulism in these parts. I’m sure it’s the result of tampering with nature. If International Pine hadn’t built here in the first place, those ducks wouldn’t have died. There’s no telling how much worse the damage will get if we allow the expansion.”