The Red Trailer Mystery Read online

  “That reminds me,” Honey said. “We haven’t told Trixie about the camp where we’re going to have our headquarters. It’s in the farming district far upstate,” she went on to Trixie, “and it’s practically a little village, with a cafeteria that’s really the clubhouse, and an outdoor movie, and not far away is a riding academy. I thought we might rent horses and ride to the three different camps Jim said he was interested in. The trailer village, which is called Autoville, is only a few miles from Pine Hollow Camp and Wilson Ranch and just a good long ride to that other boys’ camp.”

  “Rushkill Farms, you mean,” Trixie said. “That’s the name of the third camp Jim mentioned. It’ll be swell fun riding horseback to them. I’ll drop Dad a post card as soon as we reach Autoville and give him the phone number in case he wants to get in touch with me.”

  “You can do it now,” Honey said. “Miss Trask has already called the manager, who has offices in the cafeteria, to reserve parking space. When she telephoned Mother and Daddy yesterday, she gave them the number so they could have it in case—” She stopped and gazed out of the window at a glorious view of the Hudson River reflecting a purple and gold sunset.

  Then they turned into a small trailer camp, and Trixie watched excitedly from the back seat while Miss Trask made arrangements with the owner for overnight space and electricity and water.

  They parked beside another trailer, a big red one with Robin printed in small black letters on the door. Trixie stared at it, wondering why the shades on its windows were pulled down as though its occupants had already gone to sleep.

  Then she yawned. “I’m starving.”

  “So am I,” Miss Trask admitted. “Let’s have supper and go right to bed like the people next door so we can get an early start tomorrow. We’re way off schedule. I hoped we might spend this evening at Autoville, but what with the delay this morning and my over-cautious driving!” She chuckled. “I’m glad you girls are the chefs. I’m too tired to boil an egg.”

  They hurried inside the Swan, and Honey consulted the little cookbook. “We can frizzle a jar of chipped beef in a tablespoon of vegetable oil,” she said, leading the way to the galley, “and add a can of mushroom soup to it and serve it with canned peas.”

  “Yummy-yum,” Trixie shouted. “That sounds—” She stopped by the living-room window and gazed out with her mouth open. A man with shaggy black hair had just emerged from the trailer next door. He was wearing a threadbare suit and scuffed shoes, and the tight collar on his white shirt was frayed and worn.

  “That’s funny,” Trixie wondered out loud. “What’s such a man who looks so poverty-stricken doing in such a lavish trailer?”

  Honey came out of the galley to peer over her shoulder. “Probably the chauffeur,” she whispered. “But then why isn’t he wearing a uniform like other chauffeurs?”

  Bud and Reddy were scratching at the door, hinting that they had been cooped up inside the Swan too long. Trixie let them out, and they bounded in circles barking joyfully around the shaggy-haired man who, paying no attention to them, strode rapidly toward a nearby hot-dog stand. While the girls watched curiously from the entrance to the Swan, Bud and Reddy came back and began sniffing curiously around the entrance to the red trailer.

  At that moment the Robin’s door opened a crack, and a little girl appeared. She was barefoot and her patched yellow sunsuit was faded and worn. Carefully she slipped her thin body through the crack in the doorway and tiptoed down the steps. Bud growled at her playfully and jumped up to lick her face.

  “Nice puppy,” she murmured, sitting down on the ground and gathering the little black cocker spaniel into her arms. “My nice puppy.”

  Honey laughed. “He’s mine, but he likes you a lot.”

  “Mine,” the little girl insisted, frowning. “All black puppies belong to me!”

  Trixie giggled and whispered, “She sounds just like my brother Bobby and I guess she is just about his age. Don’t you think so?”

  Honey nodded. “She’s cute,” and added under her breath, “but she looks half-starved. If her parents are rich enough to own a big trailer like that, you’d think they’d feed her decently and dress her in something better than rags!”

  “It’s not polite to whisker,” the little girl said, staring at them disapprovingly. “Only naughty people whisker. My name’s Sally. What’s yours?”

  Before Trixie or Honey could reply, the door to the red trailer was suddenly thrown open, and a tired-faced woman came out on the top step. Her cheap cotton house dress was neat and clean but it showed signs of too frequent washing and mending. She was holding a tiny sick-looking baby in her thin arms and another child, in threadbare overalls, crawled behind her to peer out with big, expressionless eyes.

  “Sally,” the woman called shrilly. “Come back inside at once!”

  Sally promptly burst into tears, rubbing her blue eyes with grimy fists. “I won’t, I won’t. I’m sick n’ tired of staying indoors all the time.”

  Her mother, completely ignoring Trixie and Honey, came quickly down the steps. She seized the little girl’s shoulder and shook her gently. “You’re naughty, very naughty. You know you’re not supposed to speak to strangers.”

  Sally squirmed away from her and picked up Bud in her thin little arms. “I’ll come back if you let me take my puppy with me.”

  The woman gasped and turned a shade paler, her lips almost white. As Honey said afterward, she looked as shocked as though the child had said something really dreadful.

  Impulsively, kindhearted Honey called, “It’s all right. He’s my dog but she can play with him inside the trailer for as long as she likes.”

  Sally’s mother caught her lower lip between her teeth and there were tears in her eyes, but she replied coldly, “I’ll not allow any such a thing! The idea of her saying it is her dog.” She raised her voice. “Joeanne, Joeanne!”

  A slim, eleven-year-old girl with black pigtails hurried out of the trailer. She was wearing faded blue jeans and a shirt that was so much too small for her that Honey and Trixie could plainly see her protruding shoulder blades as she bent over and scooped Sally into her arms, puppy and all.

  “Never mind, darling,” they heard her croon as Bud broke away and ran to Honey. “You’ll have another puppy some day. One all your own.”

  “I want him,” Sally wailed, hiding her teary face in her sister’s neck. “He’s mine.”

  And then the shaggy-haired man came hurrying back from the hot-dog stand with a paper plate of sandwiches and a quart of milk in a container. He was frowning darkly as he set the food inside the trailer and reached out a long, muscular arm to snatch Sally away from her sister.

  “Get inside, all of you,” he muttered in a harsh, bitter undertone. “Quick!”

  The tired-faced woman cringed as though she had been slapped, and she meekly obeyed, taking the two babies with her. But Joeanne stood defiantly for a moment, staring at her father as though she had never seen him before, and as they glared at each other Trixie thought she had never seen two people who looked more alike.

  Both of them were deeply tanned with taut, wiry muscles, and, Trixie reflected with an inward laugh, if the father didn’t do something about his shaggy black hair soon, he would have to braid it into two pigtails to keep it out of his eyes.

  “I’m sorry about all this,” Joeanne was saying quietly over her shoulder to Trixie and Honey. “My little sister doesn’t understand. We had a black cocker puppy once but he died.” Then with a toss of her long black braids she marched stiffly inside the Robin behind her father and slammed the door.

  One of the babies began to cry, but there was no other sound inside the red trailer. No one spoke, at least not loud enough for Trixie or Honey to hear what he or she said.

  Chapter 2

  Sobs in the Night

  Honey stared at Trixie. “Did you ever hear of such a peculiar family? There they are all inside that trailer and no one is speaking to anybody else. I hope they give that bab
y some milk soon. It sounds as though it were starving.”

  “They all looked starved,” Trixie said. “And yet they must have plenty of money if they own that big red trailer. I caught a glimpse of the inside just before Joeanne closed the door and it looks as though it must have cost almost as much as the Swan did. It has double-decker bunks made of maple and newly painted shelves and shiny floors and everything.” She stopped, frowning thoughtfully. “You know, Honey, I think I’ve been inside that trailer sometime or other, but I can’t remember when or where.”

  “You may have seen pictures of it in some magazine,” Honey suggested. “Ours has been written up lots of times along with ones owned by movie stars. As a matter of fact,” she finished, “the Swan originally belonged to a movie star who got bored with it and sold it to Dad. He bought it for Mother’s birthday last year but she doesn’t like it.”

  But Trixie wasn’t listening. She was thinking about the shaggy-haired man and his hungry family. “Do you suppose that man is a mean old miser?” she asked Honey. “Like Jim’s great-uncle was? Old Mr. Frayne used to go around looking like a scarecrow and he never had enough to eat.”

  “I don’t know what to think,” Honey admitted. “I liked that girl with the pigtails—Joeanne. She was the only one who didn’t act afraid of her father.”

  “Oh, look,” Trixie cried. “She dropped one of her hair ribbons.” She stooped and picked up the faded bow of frayed blue sateen. “I’m going to take it back to her. It’ll give me a good excuse to see inside the Robin. Then maybe I’ll remember where I saw it before.”

  “You’ve got more nerve than I have,” said Honey, giggling nervously. “I’m scared of that long-haired man. He looks mean enough to bite.”

  Trixie ignored her and hurried across the space between the two trailers. She rapped on the door and it was opened immediately by Joeanne herself. “You dropped this,” Trixie began, but the little girl quickly took the ribbon and closed the door again before Trixie could say another word.

  “Well,” Trixie said as she joined Honey on the Swan steps, “I got another glimpse, and you know what? They were sitting on the bunks, staring into space, except for the father and he was holding his head in his hands.”

  Honey laughed. “Now don’t tell me that wailing baby was sitting on a bunk. It’s too young for one thing and probably much too weak from hunger to do anything but cry.”

  Trixie flushed with impatience. “I meant the mother and the other two children. Sally was sort of sulking but the little boy in overalls was just sitting there with the most awful vacant look in his face. It made me feel as though they had all given up hope, as if they didn’t care much what happened to them.” She shuddered. “It’s all so mysterious. Why aren’t they supposed to speak to strangers? Why did the mother look so shocked when Sally said Bud was her puppy?”

  “And why,” Honey finished, “do they keep the shades down on a hot evening like this when they haven’t even gone to bed?”

  Miss Trask came to the door of the Swan then. “I thought you two girls were going to fix a delicious meal.” She handed them each an apron. “We must eat and go right to bed so we can get an early start tomorrow. We wasted half a day this morning looking for Reddy.”

  “I know,” Honey said as she and Trixie got to work with a can opener and a frying pan. “We told Dad we’d arrive at Autoville tomorrow at the latest so we’ve got to in case he or Mother call to see if we arrived safely.”

  Trixie stirred the dried beef in the hot oil, then added the thick, creamy mushroom soup while Honey buttered the toast and cut it into little squares.

  “Let’s save on dish-washing,” Trixie said with a grin. She hated indoor work and always did her chores at home just as fast as she could. “If I add a can of peas to this goulash, there’ll be one less pan to wash.”

  Miss Trask laughed good-naturedly. “All right this once. But no more short cuts. I want three-course meals from now on.”

  The dinner was delicious although it took only a few minutes to prepare, and Trixie ate so much she fell asleep almost the minute she climbed into her bunk. The top deck she had chosen was on the side next to the red trailer. It began to rain in the night, at first a gentle patter, but after a while it came down in an angry torrent.

  Trixie awoke with a start when the cold rain splashed in her face and she hastily closed the window beside her bunk. Honey had already closed the other windows with Miss Trask’s help.

  “You certainly sleep soundly,” Honey said. “We have been shouting at you to wake up for a long time.”

  Trixie swung her legs over the side of her bunk and grinned down at them. “Isn’t this cozy? I love being all snug and warm inside and listening to the sound of rain coming down on the roof.”

  “I do too,” Miss Trask said, “but this is a little too snug and warm for me. It’s going to get awfully stuffy in here if we can’t open the windows soon.”

  “Mother can’t stand the Hudson River Valley in July and August,” Honey said. “She says it’s not only the heat but the humidity! That’s why Dad took her on a trip to Canada.”

  The rain continued and the windows inside the trailer became clouded with steam. Trixie curled up on top of her bed and tried to go to sleep. Poor Honey, she thought, she can’t help thinking about her mother and wondering why she doesn’t behave like other mothers.

  Honey had admitted to Trixie the very first day they met that she hardly knew her parents and had been brought up by nurses and governesses between boarding school and camp. Honey was, indeed, a poor little rich girl, and Trixie hoped that when the Canadian trip was over Honey and her mother would turn over a new leaf and try to get to know each other. Trixie could not bear to see anyone unhappy and she knew that although Honey loved Miss Trask, she craved the kind of mother Trixie herself had.

  “But still,” Trixie told herself, “she’s not as bad off as Jim who’s an orphan. We’ve got to find him and then maybe, as Honey hopes, the Wheelers will adopt him so she can have a brother. He’ll like Brian and Mart and we can all go to school together next fall and have such good times in the winter, skiing and sledding and skating.”

  Having Jim as a neighbor was such a pleasant thought that Trixie began to dream about the fun they could all have if things worked out right, and while she dreamed, the rain faded into a drizzle and finally stopped altogether.

  Sleepily Trixie raised the window beside her bunk and went back to her dreams. Suddenly her happy thoughts were rudely interrupted by very unhappy sounds from the next trailer. A woman was weeping softly as though she could no longer keep her misery bottled up inside her.

  And then a man’s voice, harsh and argumentative, rose above the quiet sobs. Trixie could only hear snatches, but what she heard jarred her into wide-awakeness.

  “It’s got to be this way, I tell you. It’s the only way out—”

  And then the woman. “Oh, no, Darney. It’s wrong. We should have known better. Look at what it’s doing already to Sally and Joeanne. I can’t bear it. I can’t bear it. You’ve got to take it back at once. It may already be too late.”

  Trixie’s heart ached for the sobbing woman, and she pulled the sheet over her head to shut out the sound of the voices in the Robin. But the man was hoarsely whispering, “Don’t be an idiot. We’ve got to go ahead with it. No one will ever know. And as for Joeanne and Sally, you should have let me—”

  “Sh-h,” the woman cautioned. “You’ll awaken them. Go to sleep now, Darney. We’ll talk about it again in the morning.”

  “A fine thing,” the man grumbled. “My own family turning against me! You were all for it in the beginning, Sarah.”

  “I know, I know,” the woman moaned. “But I didn’t realize then—”

  Whatever she was going to say was lost in muffled sobs. Then there was silence. A silence that made Trixie remember how, earlier, the family had sat together, staring vacantly into space.

  “What is the matter with that family?” she wondered,
tossing and turning in the hot, humid air. “Why do they all act as though they don’t care what happens to them? What is it the mother thinks should be taken back before it’s too late?”

  Still wondering, Trixie dropped off to sleep but again, much later, she was awakened by sounds from the other trailer. At first she thought she was still dreaming, but then, gradually, she realized with bewilderment that this time it was a man who was sobbing. His breath was coming and going in the choked gasps of someone whose spirit is broken!

  Trixie sat up, and in spite of the heat, she felt little goose pimples of horror icily prickling her bare arms.

  Surely it couldn’t be the harsh-voiced, shaggy-haired man who was weeping! Then it must be someone else. Was it a helpless person who was being held against his will in the red trailer?

  Was he the something who should be returned before it was too late?

  Trixie, listening to the deep, regular breathing that was coming from the other bunks in the Swan felt lonely and frightened. Should she wake Miss Trask and tell her that someone in the next trailer needed help? If the man who was sobbing in those dry-throated gasps had been kidnaped, the police should be notified at once.

  And then the sounds ceased as though whoever it was had buried his face in a pillow—or, Trixie couldn’t help wondering—had suddenly been smothered into silence.

  Chapter 3

  A Rescue

  In spite of herself, Trixie fell into an exhausted sleep, still wondering about the mysterious occupants of the red trailer parked alongside the Swan. When she awoke the sun was streaming through the rain-washed windows and Miss Trask was already dressed.

  “The dogs woke me at dawn,” she said. “I let them out for a run. We may as well have breakfast at the hot-dog stand. It’ll save time.”