The Mystery of the Memorial Day Fire

too. Mother will be much more relieved to know I’m doing what I can for Dad.”
    “I think that’s a good idea,” Trixie told him. “Why don’t you let us come pick you up in Brian’s car?” Realizing that she had just committed Brian’s car and both her brothers’ time, she turned to look at them. Her brothers both nodded emphatically before she could even ask the question. “See you in a minute,” she added, putting down the receiver before Nick could protest.
    It was, indeed, only a matter of minutes before the three Beldens were in the car, headed for Nick Roberts’s house. In those minutes there had been hurried explanations to their mother and a pulling on of jackets because of the threat of rain. Trixie wished that there had also been time for a call to the Manor House. In a situation like this, she wanted Honey and Jim nearby. Trixie wasn’t the one in need, though; Nick Roberts was, and his needs had to be put first. She decided she would try to call Honey and Jim from the police station.
    As soon as Brian pulled into Nick’s drive, Trixie jumped out of the car, walked quickly up to the front door, and rang the bell. Nick opened the door almost immediately. He looked haggard and pale.
    “I’ll just tell Mother I’m leaving,” he said softly. He disappeared into the back of the house and Trixie stood waiting. The house was so unnaturally quiet that she felt goosebumps rising on her arms. Although there were three human beings in this house, the life seemed to have gone out of it. When Nick returned, Trixie led the way quickly back outside.
    It didn’t take long to get to the police station. Nick found the receptionist and asked her, “Can I see my father? His name is Nicholas Roberts.”
    “I’m sorry,” the receptionist said, not sounding sorry at all. “Your father is speaking with his attorney at the moment. You can go see him when Pat Murphy is finished.”
    Nick nodded his acceptance of this cold fact and led his friends to a row of uncomfortable-looking molded-plastic chairs that sat along one wall.
    There was a long period of silence. Then Brian asked, “How did this happen, Nick? Do you know why your father is a suspect?”
    Nick seemed to come slowly back from some great distance away. “The first idea we had that my father might be a suspect came last night,” he said. “That’s when we got a phone call from Mr. Slettom. He was our landlord at the store. He owned both of the buildings that burned, in fact.
    Mr. Slettom said that the police had been questioning him. He said he realized he’d given answers that made things look bad for my father, but he couldn’t help it. He was just telling the truth. That’s why he called, to apologize.”
    “What kinds of questions did the police ask Mr. Slettom?” Brian asked.
    “They wanted to know how long my father had been renting the space in his building. Then they wanted to know whether my father had a longterm lease. When Mr. Slettom said he did, they asked if my father had ever indicated he’d like to get out of the lease. Mr. Slettom had to tell them that my father had asked just a couple of months ago if the lease could be broken. Business had gotten a lot better lately, you see, and we really needed more room and wanted a better location.
    “Mr. Slettom had told my father that he’d try to rent the space, but he couldn’t find any takers. It’s cheap to rent, but that’s about all you can say for it. Mr. Slettom had to tell the police all that, of course. Not about the cheap rent — the rest of it, I mean.”
    “That’s a slender thread on which to hang a suspicion of arson,” Mart said.
    “There was also the fact of my father’s previous dealings with shady characters,” Nick continued.
    “My father didn’t report those criminals who tried to get him to work for them. The police have never understood that Dad was afraid to turn them in because they’d threatened to harm my mother. I think those old suspicions, plus Mr. Slettom’s testimony, are what made the police decide to question Dad.
    “One of the questions they asked was where my father was at the time of the explosion. Dad told them that when the explosion occurred, he was with Mother and me on Main Street, watching the parade. But he also had to admit that he’d been working at the store up until a few minutes before the parade started.”
    “I remember that,” Trixie said. “I mean, I remember seeing him join you and your mother just