The Mystery at Maypenny's

shouted, ‘I’ve got it!’ He turned to the council chairman and reminded him of that big warehouse on the edge of town. The company that had owned it went broke, and the town had repossessed it for back taxes. The town had tried to sell it, but nobody was interested.”
    “I know that building,” Trixie said. “It’s a wreck. All the windows are broken, and kids have spray painted their initials all over it.“
    “That’s the building, all right,” Jim said. “It isn’t a wreck, though. It’s sound inside. The broken windows can be fixed, and the spray paint can be removed.
    “Within ten minutes, the president of International Pine had made an offer for it, and the chairman of the council had accepted. The offer is only a third of what a new building would cost, which more than makes up for not having the timber to use.”
    “Yippee!” Trixie shouted. “International Pine will expand, Sleepyside will have jobs, and the preserve won’t have to be touched!”
    “That’s it, in a nutshell,” Jim concluded.
    “Isn’t it all just perfectly perfect?” Honey asked. “Not quite,” Brian said. “You and Trixie have a request to make, remember?”
    Trixie groaned and Honey looked at Brian beseechingly, but he just looked back at her, unmoved.
    “Well, what is it?” Sergeant Molinson asked. “I do owe you a favor for helping me catch Lawrence Howard, although I wish you’d have just told me about him rather than trying to do it yourself.”
    Trixie and Honey looked at one another, each waiting for the other to speak.
    Finally Honey said, “Well, Sergeant Molinson, what we need is— I mean, you did ask us to be here this morning, and it is Monday, and that is a school day, and— Well, would you write an excuse to our principal so we can go to school?” Sergeant Molinson hooted with laughter. “If it will get you kids back into school and out of mischief, I’ll write you the best excuse you ever had,” he said, picking up a pen.
    He scribbled a note and handed it to Trixie. “There you are,” he said. “If you’re smart, you’ll devote yourself to your schoolwork from now on and stay away from mysteries. There have been enough dead ducks around here for a while. We wouldn’t want to add you to the list.”
    Trixie gulped. “It was a close call,” she admitted. “But after all, everything worked out just fine, didn’t it?”
    Mart groaned, grabbed his sister by the shoulders, and pushed her toward the door. “Let’s be off,” he said. “Immerse yourself in the intricacies of algebra for a while; you won’t have time for mysteries.”
    Trixie started out the door, then stopped and turned around. “There’s just one more thing I want,” she said, “but it will have to wait until after school.”
    “What is it?” Honey asked.
    “I want an ice-cream cone with two scoops of ice cream—one chocolate and one vanilla,” Trixie said.
    Her friends looked at one another in bewilderment as Trixie, smiling to herself, walked out the door.