The Mystery of the Memorial Day Fire

She told her brothers about delivering the T-shirts to the Sleepyside Bankers. “They loved their shirts, so by today we should have customers running after us ,” she said smugly.
    “Hmm,” Brian said as he walked to the table which Mrs. Belden had set for breakfast. “Not bad technique, at that. I’ll have to remember it. I was wondering where you and Honey were last night. I’m glad you were working on the project at hand and not looking for a mystery to jump into headfirst.”
    For a moment, Trixie concentrated very hard on pouring milk on her cereal. If only Brian knew that that’s exactly what they had been doing! She wondered if she should tell him — or someone — as she’d said she would if another arson took place. But something made her hesitate. I said it had to be another arson before I’d speak up, she reasoned silently. I don’t know yet that this was arson, which is exactly what Brian and Mart would tell me if I tried to tell them about it. So I won’t — until I know something more.
    By noon, Trixie knew more than she wanted to know. The fire had quickly been labeled arson by the investigators. As they had reconstructed the crime, someone had broken into the store by the back door, scattered the store’s records around the office, and set them on fire.
    But the news on the radio was even worse. “Mr. Nicholas Roberts, who was questioned about the earlier fire and released, was seen in the vicinity of the Slettom Appliance Store early this morning,” the radio announcer said. “Police are questioning Roberts again. Sources say that Roberts does not deny being in the area, although he does deny having started the fire. He was called by Slettom’s secretary and asked to come to the appliance store before business hours, he says. He claims she told him that, in spite of the fire that made the store he was renting uninhabitable, he still had to sign a paper canceling his lease. Mr. Slettom and his secretary deny having called Roberts or having requested a meeting.”
    “They can’t possibly think Mr. Roberts just made that story up, can they?” Trixie asked her brothers.
    Mart was speechless for a change, and Brian shook his head as if refusing to hazard a guess on what the police might or might not do. Before he could add a comment, Helen Belden called him to the phone.
    He was gone for just a few moments, but when he came back, his face was pale and sick-looking. “That was one of my T-shirt customers,” he said, his voice strained. “He called to cancel an order for twenty-five shirts.”
    “Oh, Brian, that’s too bad,” Trixie said automatically. Then she realized that her brother was overreacting to the loss of one small sale. “Why did he cancel?” she asked.
    “Why do you think?” Brian snapped. “He said it looks to him as though Nicholas Roberts is guilty, after all, and he doesn’t want to do business with an arsonist.”
    “What!” Trixie shrieked. “But that’s ridiculous!”
    “I agree,” Brian said. “I even told him so, as politely as I could. But he doesn’t know Mr. Roberts,
    or Nick, so he doesn’t understand how ridiculous... » it is.
    The conversation was interrupted again. This time Mart was called to the phone. Trixie felt her stomach beginning to churn. Please, please let it be something else, she thought. A new order, or even just an invitation to a dumb party — anything but another cancellation.
    It was another cancellation, though. Trixie and Brian knew that before Mart spoke. They could tell it by the way his shoulders slumped as he walked across the room, and by the way he sat down heavily in his chair.
    “Who and how many?” Brian asked quietly.
    “Shorty’s Shoe Shop. Twenty shirts and twenty caps,” Mart said simply.
    “What did they say?” Trixie asked.
    “There’s no need for me to repeat the conversation,” Mart told her. “Basically, it was identical to Brian’s.”
    Trixie sighed, then jumped as the telephone began to ring again. She knew it was her turn before she heard her mother call, “Trixie!” She got up from the table and went to the phone.
    “This is Jan Carlson,” the voice said. “I ordered some caps for our horseshoe tournament.”
    “I remember,” Trixie said. She tried to keep the coldness out of her voice, but she wasn’t going to make it easier for the man to cancel his order.
    “I’ve been thinking it over, and it seems like a lot of money to spend. It’s just a little family picnic,