The Red Trailer Mystery Page 6

  Trixie’s mouth fell open in amazement. “We don’t need a quiz test to prove who’s the smartest,” she said ruefully. “I never thought about that, Honey, and I’ll bet it was Joeanne. Let’s go back there and explore some more as soon as we can.”

  “You mean tomorrow as soon as we’ve cleaned up the Swan?” Honey demanded. “Don’t you think we’d better ride to Wilson Ranch first? We don’t want to lose track of Jim.”

  “Of course not,” Trixie agreed. “We’ll look for clues to Joeanne in the afternoon.”

  Miss Trask beckoned to them from the doorway then, and they hurried to follow her into the dining-room. As they stood in line with their trays in the cafeteria, the radio began to blare forth the latest news and weather reports.

  “Upstate,” the announcer in the New York broadcasting station said, “police are searching for a gang of trailer thieves. Three of the four stolen trailers have already been located only a short distance from where their owners left them, stripped of all valuable and movable equipment. But so far state troopers have found no trace of the luxury trailer, named the Robin.” The announcer repeated several times the license plates on the Robin and on the tow car and then issued the warning, “All trailer owners are cautioned against parking in side roads or in the woods and are especially urged not to abandon their homes-on-wheels at any time unless they are parked in supervised trailer camps.”

  “This whole business is making me rather nervous,” Miss Trask said when they were seated at a table. “I feel terribly responsible for the Swan. If anything should happen to it, I’d never forgive myself, although I suppose it is heavily insured.”

  “And it’s perfectly safe while we’re in Autoville,” Honey said quickly.

  “Nevertheless,” Miss Trask told her, “I’d like to take it back home as soon as possible. You two can inquire for Jim at Wilson Ranch tomorrow and at Rushkill Farms on Tuesday. Then I think we ought to make an early start for Sleepyside Wednesday morning.”

  Honey and Trixie stared at each other in dismay. Only two more days, and they had so much to do!

  Honey immediately began to plead for more time, but Trixie had suddenly caught sight of the waiter, Jeff. He was clearing the soiled dishes from a table which some young people had just vacated, but he was working so slowly, stacking the plates with exaggerated care, wiping carefully at unseen spots, that Trixie became suspicious. And then she realized that he was listening to every word a man and woman at the next table were saying.

  The middle-aged couple had a map spread out in front of them, and while they sipped after-dinner coffee, they were discussing plans for a trip.

  “We can stop here for a swim before lunch,” the man told his wife, pointing with a pencil. “That’s a lake, see? I get so hot driving in the heat of the day, I’d welcome a chance to cool off.”

  The woman smiled. “Then why do we leave Autoville at all? There’s a lovely pool right here, Rob.”

  Her husband chuckled. “You know perfectly well, Anna, that I’ve got to combine business with pleasure on my vacation. I must get that client in Tookerstown to sign the contract sometime this week. You don’t have to come with me if you’d prefer to stay here.”

  “Of course I want to come,” his wife said quickly. “But is it necessary to take the trailer? I’m sort of nervous since those robberies.”

  “It’s not necessary,” the man said, “but a lot more comfortable. We can eat whenever we like and change into bathing suits without having to look for bathhouses. Tookerstown is just a small village on a country road, and I doubt if we’ll pass an inn on the way.”

  His wife laughed as they left the table. “We could, of course, take sandwiches but I guess I’ve spoiled you with my home cooking.”

  Trixie pretended to eat but she was watching Jeff out of the corner of one eye. As soon as the couple left the cafeteria, he flipped a notebook out of his pocket and wrote something down in it.

  So, Trixie thought, that’s why he works in this restaurant. He listens to people’s plans so he knows just where they are going to park their trailers when they go on trips. I hope that man doesn’t leave his keys in the tow car when he and his wife go swimming. I’d like to warn him but I know he’d only laugh at me.

  Later that evening when she was telling her suspicions to Honey, she said, “If only I could get hold of Jeff’s notebook! That would be all we needed to prove he’s one of the trailer thieves.”

  Honey thought for a minute. “I don’t think any more trailers are going to be stolen for quite a while. Everybody’s going to be extra careful after those radio warnings. We simply mustn’t waste any more time on that mystery. Let the state troopers worry about it. We’ve only got two more days to look for Jim and then we’ll have to go home.”

  Trixie sighed. “Is Miss Trask still determined to go home on Wednesday?”

  Honey nodded. “She’s pretty nervous about it all and feels that when the gang discovers people are being careful of where they park their trailers, they’ll try some other way of getting them. Like hijacking.”

  “Hijacking?” Trixie’s blue eyes grew round. “You mean hold up the drivers with guns and force them into the woods and tie them up while they steal the equipment?”

  “Miss Trask didn’t come right out and say that,” Honey admitted. “But that’s what I think will happen.” She shuddered. “I hope the troopers catch that gang before we start back, and I tell you I’m not going to investigate any abandoned barns.”

  Trixie giggled. “We probably won’t have a chance to unless there’s one on the Wilson Ranch.”

  It had stopped raining during dinner and now the moon was shining palely through a veil of clouds. “Let’s sit out on the step for a while before we go to bed,” Trixie said. “I don’t feel a bit sleepy now.”

  Miss Trask had stayed behind at the cafeteria to talk with some friends she had made while the girls were out riding that morning. “I’d like to go for a swim,” Honey said as they strolled past the pool. “But I guess it’s too late for that.”

  They covered the wet step of the Swan with their raincoats and sat down to wait for Miss Trask. Suddenly Trixie grabbed Honey’s arm.

  “Quick,” she whispered. “Look at that man in the Autoville uniform on the other side of the pool.”

  Honey stared across the park. “What about him? He’s just one of the attendants.”

  “I know,” Trixie said, “but just a minute ago he took off his cap to shake the water out of it, and I wish you could have seen his hair. It’s as bushy as a fox’s tail!”

  Honey blinked. “Do you think he’s the man whom you heard talking to Jeff before dinner?”

  “That one wasn’t in uniform,” Trixie said, “but, of course, he wouldn’t be when he was off duty.”

  Honey stood up, shivering. “Let’s go inside,” she begged. “He might have seen you on the veranda when you were spying on him.”

  Trixie frowned. “I wish he’d turn around so we could see his face.”

  “Well, I don’t,” Honey said, opening the Swan door. “I don’t want to have anything to do with those trailer thieves.”

  Trixie reluctantly followed her inside. “Somehow,” she said slowly, “I feel we aren’t going to find either Jim or Joeanne until that mystery is solved.”

  Chapter 7

  Wilson Ranch

  The next morning was hot and sunny after the rain, so hot that Trixie felt cross and tired when she and Honey had finished cleaning the interior of the Swan. They swept and dusted and mopped for what seemed like hours and it was almost ten o’clock when Miss Trask said the job was done to her satisfaction.

  “Let’s never take the dogs with us again,” Honey said. “They’re always running away and they brought in most of the mud and burrs that were stuck to everything.”

  “They are awful nuisances,” Trixie agreed. “May we leave them with you, Miss Trask?”

  Miss Trask nodded. “Why don’t you take along bathing suits? You may be i
nvited for a swim at the ranch. I understand there is a lovely natural pool, an old quarry, at that boys’ camp. The water should be fresh and cold after the rain yesterday.”

  “Great,” Trixie said. “The way I feel now I’d like to stay in the water all day long.”

  “Me too.” Honey rolled their suits into a tight ball and strapped them together with a belt she could hook to her saddle. “Shall we take lunch too?”

  “Oh, let’s not,” Trixie groaned. “I ate so many pancakes for breakfast I don’t ever want to see food again.”

  “It’s only an hour’s ride to Wilson Ranch,” Miss Trask told them. “You should be back before one. When I take the dogs for a walk, I’ll stop at one of the truck farms near here and buy greens for a salad. That, with canned ham broiled with slices of pineapple, and buttered rolls will make a delicious and easy-to-fix dinner.”

  “Yummy-yum,” Trixie cried, completely forgetting that she had just said she never wanted to eat again. “Let’s go.”

  In a few minutes they were riding Prince and Peanuts through a wooded path that led in the opposite direction from the one they had taken to Pine Hollow Camp.

  After a while Honey said musingly, “What did you mean, Trixie, when you said last night that we weren’t going to find Jim until the trailer-theft mystery was solved?”

  Trixie shrugged. “I don’t know exactly why, but somehow I have a feeling that Jim isn’t at any of those boys’ camps, that he’s hiding out in the woods. And Joeanne is probably lost in the woods around here and the trailer thieves are hiding in the woods too, and so I keep thinking if we find one of them we’ll find all of them.”

  Honey laughed. “That doesn’t make much sense. The woods stretch for miles and miles on each side of the main highway. It would be like trying to find a whole book of needles in one huge haystack.”

  “I know it.” Trixie grinned, and then she sobered. “Say, Honey,” she cried, pointing. “Look down there in that hollow. If that isn’t an old orchard I never saw one.”

  Honey reined in Peanuts. “Are those gnarled and tired-looking things apple trees?”

  “That’s right,” Trixie told her. “We have lots of them like that at home. Dad is always going to chop them down for firewood but they are so beautiful when they blossom in the spring Mother won’t let him.” She leaned across her saddle to whisper, “Do you suppose it’s the same orchard Jeff and his bushy-haired friend were talking about?”

  Honey shuddered. “If it is, let’s not go near the place. I’m scared of those men, Trixie, and they already suspect us of spying on them.”

  Trixie ignored her. “When we get to the top of this hill, let’s look down and see if we can see an old barn. There must be a truck farm around there but the woods shut out our view.”

  But the trail to Wilson Ranch led downhill instead of up, and Trixie was so busy slapping at the deer flies swarming around Prince’s neck that she forgot to look for signs of a farm. The flies left them at the edge of the woods and they cantered across a wide field to pick up the trail again on the other side. They stopped for a cool drink at a spring and bathed their hot arms and faces.

  “Whew!” Trixie gasped, as the horses drank thirstily. “This is awful. How much farther do we have to go?”

  Honey consulted the map. “Why, we’re almost there. As a matter of fact, we are there. This patch of woods belongs to the camp. We should be able to see the cabins in a few minutes.”

  But before they saw the camp they heard unmistakable sounds of boys in swimming—splashing, yelling, the blowing of a whistle, and then they rounded a bend in the path and found themselves a few yards from the quarry.

  One tall, blond boy was poised on the diving board, and Honey cried, “Why, that’s my cousin, Ben Riker. I haven’t seen him in ages, but I’d know him anywhere. Nobody else is such a clown.”

  Ben, pretending that he had lost his nerve, was backing away from the edge of the board. All of a sudden he lost his balance and fell over the side with a loud splash. Grinning and spluttering, he emerged and promptly caught sight of the girls and their horses.

  “Honey Wheeler!” he shouted, scrambling up the bank. “Where did you come from and what are you doing here?”

  Honey introduced him to Trixie and explained about the trailer trip. “We’re looking for a redheaded boy named Jim,” she said. “Would you know if he tried to get a job at Wilson Ranch?”

  “No,” Ben said, “but Mr. Ditmar would. He’s the tall guy over there blowing the whistle. He owns the joint and is a swell person. Come on, we’ll ask him about your friend.”

  Mr. Ditmar nodded pleasantly when Honey asked him about Jim. “Why, yes,” he said, “a husky young redhead applied for a job here yesterday in all that rain. I liked the boy’s looks and we could use another junior athletic instructor here for the nursery group, but I couldn’t hire anyone without references. A letter from his principal or the minister of his church would do. I told him to have his parents get in touch with me right away.”

  Honey looked at Trixie. “Oh, gosh,” she said under her breath. “That’s too bad.”

  “What do you mean, too bad?” Ben demanded. “He couldn’t get a job at a better camp.”

  “I think I know what she means,” Mr. Ditmar said easily. “I got the impression from the way the boy evaded my questions that he was a runaway. Was I right?”

  Trixie hesitated a moment, then, deciding that Mr. Ditmar would prove to be a friend, she blurted, “Yes. Jim ran away from his cruel stepfather and we’ve got to find him before he runs away for good. He’s recently inherited half a million dollars but he doesn’t know it.”

  Together the two girls told the whole story, and when they had finished Mr. Ditmar said sympathetically, “I’m sorry now I didn’t hire him right on the spot although, of course, I couldn’t without knowing more of his background.”

  “Say,” Ben put in, “you girls look as though you were about to have a sunstroke. Would it be all right for them to take a quick swim, Mr. Ditmar?”

  “Certainly,” Mr. Ditmar said, and added, “We’re getting ready for the senior races. Maybe you’d like to stay and watch and have lunch with us afterward. The boys are brewing a hunter’s stew back at the ranch house and I’m sure they’d like to try it out on you girls.”

  Honey giggled. “It sounds like fun but I hope Ben didn’t have anything to do with the stew. If he did I’ll bet it’s full of red pepper.”

  “I’ll have you know,” Ben said airily, “that I’m a better cook than you’ll ever be.”

  “Maybe so,” Honey said warily, “but I can’t help remembering that hunt breakfast at Grandmother’s when you filled all the sugar bowls with salt. Were you ever unpopular!”

  “Kid stuff.” Ben grinned. “I was knee-high to a grasshopper then,” he told Trixie, “but Honey has never forgiven me ’cause her governess made her eat every bit of that salty, salty oatmeal.”

  “It was a mean trick,” Honey insisted, “and I didn’t dare tell on him because he said he’d put toads in my bed if I did.”

  One of Ben’s chums who had been standing nearby said with a chuckle, “Riker’s a dangerous character, all right, but last night we paid him back for all the stunts he’s pulled since camp opened. Didn’t we, Ben, old boy?”

  Ben clasped his forehead in mock despair. “I’ll say you did. I still can’t get the knots out of my sheets, and you, a pal of mine, Sid!” He turned to Honey. “Sid and I’ll stable your horses while you girls change at the ranch house. Here comes Mrs. Ditmar now. She’ll take care of you.”

  A plump, motherly-looking woman led Honey and Trixie past the stable and the corral to the main house. “I’m glad you brought your bathing suits,” she said. “You can change in my room. The telephone is out in the hall if you want to call for permission to stay to lunch.”

  Honey telephoned the Autoville cafeteria and left a message for Miss Trask with the manager. Then both girls hurried to the quarry. They had time for a quick dip b
efore the swimming race started, and feeling cool and refreshed, perched on a large rock in the shade to watch.

  All of the boys were excellent swimmers, but Ben, in spite of his clowning, won with apparently no effort at all. “Nothing to it,” he grinned as he joined the girls on the rock. “Before you stands the world’s greatest swimmer. I shouldn’t have entered an amateur race. It was like taking candy from a baby. As you no doubt noted, Sid here, was outclassed from the beginning.”

  Sid had been such a close second that everyone laughed, and Ben pretended to sulk. Sid hoisted himself up on the rock beside Trixie. “I’ll bet you could beat boastful Ben with your arm in a sling,” he said.

  Trixie shook her head. “I couldn’t, but Honey could. She’s marvelous.”

  Honey flushed. “I’m not at all.”

  Ben scrambled to his feet. “Dare you to challenge me. Double dare you.” He pulled his cousin down to the starting point on the edge of the quarry.

  “Ready, on your mark, get set, go!” Sid shouted and they were off.

  Trixie had not really been sure that Honey could beat Ben, but she did, by a whole yard, and the quarry resounded with the boys’ loud cheers. Red-faced and embarrassed, Honey let Ben help her out of the water and before she could get her balance, he pushed her in again. That was a signal for everybody to drag Ben into the quarry and duck him over and over again. At last it was over and Ben, spluttering good-naturedly, held up Honey’s arm and gasped, “The winnah!”

  The dinner bell rang, and they raced away to change into dry clothes. Honey and Trixie sat on each side of Mr. Ditmar at the long table in the ranch house and had several helpings of the hunter’s stew.

  “Maybe you proved girls are the best swimmers,” Ben teased, “but it looks as though boys are the best cooks.”

  “I won’t argue that point,” Trixie admitted with a laugh as she passed her plate for more of the savory meat and vegetables. “But I would like to know how you did it. Most stews are awful.”