The Mystery of the Memorial Day Fire

quiet, the way Nick’s house had been too quiet that morning.
    Trixie went around the corner to the alley. From the back the damage was more noticeable. Or maybe the back of the building looked worse because so much litter and garbage were mixed in with the rubble from the fire. Trixie kicked at a brick with the toe of her shoe.
    A glint of metal caught her eye. She bent down and picked up the small object that had been hidden under the brick. It was a gold button, the kind with a raised monogram on it. “JSD,” Trixie read the letters aloud. “Well, Mr. JSD, you must have a fancy sports coat that’s as ragged-looking as my Bob-Whites jacket.” Absentmindedly, she put the button in the pocket of her jacket and continued on around the building. Minutes later, she was back in the car with her brothers.
    “Well?” Brian asked. “Did you satisfy your curiosity?”
    Trixie shook her head. “It wasn’t really curiosity. It was more — I don’t know. I guess I thought it would make more sense if I saw the building. It didn’t work, though. It seemed too little and too shabby to cause so much trouble.”
    Brian patted his sister on the arm sympathetically. “Some things don’t make much sense. They just take some getting used to. Now, let’s go pick up Nick.”
    Nick was waiting under the eaves of the police station, his shoulders hunched against the rain. Brian honked as they approached, and Nick ran for the car and jumped into the back seat.
    “You didn’t have to wait outside for us,” Trixie chided him. “We would have come in for you.”
    “That isn’t why I waited outside,” Nick said. “Jane Dix-Strauss was still lurking in the hallway when I finished talking to my father. I didn’t want to deal with her, so I walked out. I hoped she’d think I’d kept on going.”
    “That woman!” Trixie growled.
    “How’s your father, Nick?” Brian asked, averting any further complaints from his sister about the Sleepyside Sun’s newest reporter.
    “He’s worried, of course,” Nick said. “More worried about Mother and me than about himself. I tried to tell him we’d be okay. He was glad you helped us find Pat Murphy. He liked her a lot.”
    “I did, too,” Trixie said.
    As Brian pulled out of the parking lot, his car was nearly sideswiped by another car that was pulling in. Brian slammed on the brakes just in time to avoid an accident. The other car stopped, too. The driver’s door opened and a short, pudgy man barreled out.
    “Oh, woe,” Trixie said. “I suppose he’s going to rant about teenage drivers, when he’s the one who almost caused the accident.”
    But it was to the back window of the car, not the front, that the man directed his attention.
    “It’s Mr. Slettom!” Nick exclaimed. He rolled down the window, and the little man stuck his head inside.
    Trixie turned in the seat, craning her neck to see the man whose two buildings had just burned. It was almost impossible to concentrate on what Mr. Slettom looked like, because the loud, red-and-green-plaid sports coat he wore was so overpowering. Once she got past the garish jacket, though, Trixie decided that the wearer was a very uninteresting-looking man. His round face looked even rounder because he was almost entirely bald, with just a fringe of pale blond hair that ringed the back of his head. He looked worried.
    “I just heard about your father, Nick,” he said breathlessly. “I came as soon as I could. Is he all right? Is there anything I can do? Do you need bail money?”
    Nick held up one hand to stop the flow of questions. “Thank you, Mr. Slettom. I really appreciate your offering to help. There’s nothing we need, though. We have a good attorney. We can’t use bail money because Dad hasn’t been charged, so he can’t be released on bail.”
    “He hasn’t been charged? How dare they hold him that way! Still, I suppose it’s for the best— I mean, if they don ’ t charge him, it will be better for his record in the long run.
    “Oh, Nick, I’m just so sorry,” Mr. Slettom continued. “I really feel as though it’s all my fault, because I told the police about your father’s wanting out of his lease. Are you sure there’s nothing more I can do?”
    Nick shook his head. “I’ll let you know if there is anything, though, I promise.”
    “Thank you, Nick. Thank you.” Mr. Slettom walked back to his car, got in, and drove away.
    “He certainly seems convinced of his own guilt,” Mart said as they