The Mystery of the Memorial Day Fire

ridiculous.”
    “Ridiculous?” Honey echoed. “That’s a funny word to use.”
    “I don’t mean that the fire itself was ridiculous,” Trixie said. “I just mean the setting of it was. This building is too small to be worth much in insurance. It’s in too shabby a neighborhood to be worth remodeling. It’s too ordinary to inspire revenge in anybody. Why bother to burn it down?”
    “I don’t know,” Honey admitted. Seeing Trixie get off her bike and push the kickstand down with her foot, she added, “What are you doing?”
    “I’m just going to take another look around,” Trixie said. “You said if there was any more evidence against Jane Dix-Strauss, we’d find it. How can we find it if we don’t look?”
    “But you said we wouldn’t stay long,” Honey reminded her friend. “It’s getting darker by the minute. Nick said they had mice even when there were people in the building. Now that it’s abandoned, there are probably rats — maybe even bats,” Honey added with a shudder. “Come on, Trixie. We can come back tomorrow when it’s light out.”
    “That’s silly, Honey,” Trixie said. “It’s a long bike ride to get here. Besides, our days are too busy already with the sales and the regular chores. We’d never find time to get back. I just want to walk around the building one more time. Do you want to come along or wait here?”
    Honey frowned. “I don’t want to do either,” she said. “I want to go home.”
    “We will,” Trixie said. “We’ll be on our way in ten minutes — no more, I promise. Do you want to come along?”
    “No,” Honey said. She sounded both frightened and angry at the stubbornness of her friend.
    Trixie heard the anger, but she couldn’t let it stop her. Something irresistible was drawing her toward the deserted, boarded-up building. “I’ll be right back,” she said as reassuringly as she could.
    Cautiously, Trixie made her way to the alley in the back of the building. She started around the corner, then froze, her blood turning cold, when she saw two figures standing in the alley.
    Trixie pulled herself back into the shadow of the building and stared at the two people. They were standing face-to-face, obviously talking, although Trixie could not hear what they were saying. The person on the left was a man — a big one, both tall and broad. He was wearing a short jacket, with the collar turned up around his face.
    The person on the right was a woman. Trixie gasped when she recognized who it was. She strained her eyes through the deepening gloom to be sure.
    There could be no doubt. The woman standing here behind Mr. Roberts’s store was Jane Dix-Strauss!



10 * Was It a Payoff?

    TRIXIE SQUEEZED HER EYES SHUT for a second, then opened them and looked again. Now she was sure. Even in the dim light, the reporter’s slim figure and dark, curly hair were easy to recognize.
    Before Trixie had time to wonder what to do, Jane Dix-Strauss’s voice was suddenly raised, carrying across the distance to where Trixie was hiding. “All right,” she said. “That’s it, then. If I need anything else, I’ll call.” As she spoke, the reporter reached into the pocket of her blazer and pulled out something. A folded piece of paper, Trixie thought, or maybe — yes, that’s it — an envelope.
    The man muttered something. Because his back was turned, Trixie could pick up only the sound of his voice, not the words. He took the envelope and tucked it into an inside pocket of his coat.
    Trixie watched what was happening as if it were a scene on stage. Gradually, she began to realize that this was not play-acting. It was real life, which meant that she was eavesdropping. She should clear her throat or make some noise to let the two people in the alley know she was there. That somehow seemed the fairest thing to do. But as Trixie thought about her previous encounters with Jane Dix-Strauss, the idea of the brusque young woman appreciating the fairness seemed ridiculous. More likely, she’d yell at Trixie for peeping. Maybe she’d demand to know how long Trixie had been standing there and what she’d heard.
    Or maybe she’d offer to pay me off, too, Trixie thought. The thought startled her. Some part of her mind had put the white envelope together with the idea of a payoff. Is that what it is? she asked herself. Is Jane Dix-Strauss paying that man off for something? For what?
    The thought distracted Trixie, momentarily, from her worries about whether or