The Mystery of the Memorial Day Fire

Nicholas Roberts’s son, and I know he doesn’t want to talk to you.”
    “That’s right, Nick,” Mr. Slettom said. “Don’t let this woman do any more harm to your father.”
    “I haven’t harmed your father,” Jane Dix-Strauss retorted. “Circumstances have. I want to hear his side of the story. I want to make sure it gets printed.”
    “Sure,” Nick said, his face suddenly hard. “You can print it on page eight, the way you did the story of his release. Maybe you can even give him three paragraphs, instead of two.”
    “The release story was different — it wasn’t news. An interview with a suspect would be,” Jane Dix-Strauss said heatedly.
    “So you admit you suspect my father,” Nick accused.
    “No!” Jane Dix-Strauss said. “But you have to admit that your father is a suspect.”
    “Thanks to you!” Mr. Slettom told her.
    “Please!” Nick said loudly. “My father isn’t here right now, anyway. Mr. Slettom, I’m sure he’d be happy to talk to you later, if you’d like to call him. Miss Dix-Strauss, I really don’t think that Dad will let you interview him.”
    “All right,” the reporter said. “I’ll just have to get the information some other way.” She turned and went back down the walk.
    Mr. Slettom watched her go, a look of satisfaction on his face. “Good work, Nick,” he said. “I wish I’d been able to chase her off before she disturbed you, though. I’m glad your father wasn’t home.”
    “Well, I’m sorry you missed him,” Nick said. “No problem, no problem,” Mr. Slettom said with a wave of his hand. “I just wanted to stop by and see how he was doing. I can do that another day. So long.”
    Trixie was still staring at Jane Dix-Strauss, who was unlocking the door of a red compact car. That woman! she thought angrily, jamming her clenched fists into the pockets of her jacket. Who does she think she is, anyway ? Trixie’s hand touched a small, hard object. The button! she thought. Maybe I can use it to ruffle those smooth feathers of hers. She hurried down the walk and reached the little car just as Jane Dix-Strauss was starting the engine with one hand and rolling down the window with the other.
    “Excuse me,” Trixie said. “I think I have something of yours.” She held the button out on her outstretched palm.
    Jane Dix-Strauss took it. She looked down at it for a moment, then looked up at Trixie, obviously startled. “Where did you find this?”
    “In the alley behind Mr. Roberts’s store. It was under an old brick. Don’t you remember losing it there?” Trixie asked pointedly.
    “No, I don’t.” The woman hesitated for a moment. She seemed to be on the verge of saying something. Then, abruptly, her face resumed its cool and composed look. “Thank you very much,” she said. She dropped the button into the pocket of her blazer and, without giving Trixie another look, put the car into gear and drove away.
    Trixie stood and watched the little red car. Her mouth had dropped open, and her cheeks were flaming red. She took it! My only clue, and she grabbed it right out of my hand and drove off with it! Then Trixie’s jaw tightened as her anger suddenly turned inward. Well, what was 1 expecting her to do? I held the button out to her and told her 1 knew it was hers. I all but invited her to take it! Some detective I am!
    “What was that all about, Trix?”
    Trixie turned at the sound of Jim’s voice and saw that all the Bob-Whites were walking toward her. “Oh, I-I just wanted to ask her something.”
    She hoped the matter would drop there, but Jim asked, “What?”
    “Oh — uh —just one of the figures in one of her stories,” Trixie said hastily. “You remember, Brian and Mart, how she wrote that there’s a billion dollars worth of arson every year? I’ve been wondering if that really was billion — with a b.”
    “And was it?” Jim asked.
    “Jane Dix-Strauss would never write anything that wasn’t true.” She said it in a tone of exaggerated innocence. I hope no one notices I didn’t really answer Jim’s question, she thought.
    “Let’s go, you guys,” Dan Mangan said impatiently. “I have work to do.”
    Saved! Trixie thought, turning quickly away from her curious brothers and walking toward the car.
    Honey hurriedly fell in step with her. “You asked her about the button, didn’t you?” she whispered.
    Trixie nodded. “Boy, was she ever surprised!” she whispered back.
    “Did she admit losing it in the