The Mystery of the Galloping Ghost

let that happen!” Honey said. “We have to do something—but what?”
    “We
could confront Burke,” Trixie said. Gus shook his head. “A dead horse would be
easier to hide than a live one, if Burke knows somebody’s on his trail.”
    Honey
shuddered. “Maybe we ought to tell Bill and Charlene, and see what they want to
do. They have the most at stake in this.”
    “That’s
exactly why we can’t tell them yet,” Trixie said grimly. “Bill would be so
angry he’d go marching off to confront Burke—or ask the sheriff to do it.
Either way, Burke knows we’re onto him, and Al- Adeen is done for.”
    “Then
what do we do?” Honey asked frantically.
    “First,
try to find the horse,” Trixie said. “Once he’s safe, we can go after Burke.
Meantime,” she concluded, looking from Honey to Gus and back again, “we have to
keep this a secret. Agreed?”
    The
other two nodded.
    “So
how do we go about finding the horse?” Honey asked.
    “We
start by taking that little stroll we told Mrs. Murrow about,” Trixie said. “To Burke Landing.”
    The
girls said good-bye to Gus and set off by way of the blacktop road. “We want as
much information as we can get,” Trixie told Honey. “If Burke
isn’t around, so much the better. There’s bound to be someone we can
talk to in the construction trailer.”
    The
sounds of construction grew louder as Trixie and Honey approached the site. To
their surprise, the trailer was gone, replaced by a large sign that said, model now open .
    The
girls made their way through deep ruts and sawed-off pieces of lumber. “Gee,”
said Trixie, “I wonder why the office was moved out of the trailer. It’s so
messy here.”
    The
model unit was on the ground floor. It was open, but far from finished. Plywood
floors were down and two-by-fours showed the outline of where the rooms would
be. The only furnishings were a card table and two folding chairs, which were
set up in the living room. Behind the table, a large hole in the wall that
would someday be a picture window framed a beautiful view of the woods along
the river.
    A
young woman rose from one of the chairs to greet them. “I’m Courtney Dahl,” she
said, raising her voice to be heard over the noise.
    “Welcome
to Burke Landing. Would you girls be interested in buying a unit here?” She
smiled to show that she was joking.
    “We
wouldn’t,” Honey said , smiling back to show that she’d
caught the joke. “I thought my father might, though. He’s quite an
outdoors-man. I understand this part of the country is outstanding for hunting
and fishing.”
    Honey
did her best to sound sophisticated, and Ms. Dahl seemed to realize that this
was no joke, after all. She launched into a detailed sales presentation,
complete with a floor plan of the units and a model of the finished
development. She emphasized what she called the “amenities”—a swimming pool,
four tennis courts, a party room, and a picnic area near the river.
    Trixie
had to admit it all looked very nice. Just not right next door to the Murrows , she thought.
    “We’ll
be opening in the spring of next year,” the young woman said.
    Unconsciously,
both girls found themselves looking around at the bare framework of the room
and at the rutted landscape beyond.
    “Things
really move quickly from this stage on,” Ms. Dahl said. “That’s why we’re
urging people to reserve units now. If you’d just give me your father’s name
and telephone number, I could—”
    Trixie
cut her off, to spare Honey the high-pressure tactics. “I’ve always heard that
the most important thing in a real estate development is who the developer
is—his experience and so forth. Could you tell us his name?”
    “Mr.
Jon Burke, a wonderful person. I’ve been working for him for three months, and
I know he’s very committed to this project.”
    “Has
he done other projects like it? Is there one nearby that we could see?” Honey
asked.
    “Not that I know of. I don’t think Mr. Burke is from
around here, actually. Everything I know about him is in our sales brochure.”
She gestured to a stack of brochures on the table. “I’m sure Mr. Burke would be
willing to talk to your father about his prior experience and his plans for
this project. Just write his name and address on this piece of paper.” The
woman thrust the paper forward, giving Honey no chance to refuse.
    After
Honey had written down the information, she said, “I’m sure he’ll be
delighted.” Once