The Mystery of the Memorial Day Fire

putting a pencil and notepad back in the pocket of her blazer. “See you in the paper!”
    “We re going to be in the paper!” Di exclaimed when the reporter had moved on. “I wonder how I looked when she took my picture.”
    “I’m sure you were beautiful, as usual, Di,” Trixie said gloomily. “I’m bound to be the one with my mouth hanging open or my eyes halfclosed. Although,” she added, “my eyes must have been wide open this time, or that reporter couldn’t have half-blinded me with her stupid flash.”
    “Now, Trixie,” Honey said calmingly. “I know the flash was startling, but that’s what makes a good newspaper picture — taking people by surprise.”
    “Then this picture will be great,” Trixie said, refusing to be soothed even by her friend’s honey-sweet disposition. “I just hope it’s worth it to that reporter to be so rude.”
    “Your perspicuity in matters arcane is matched only by your predilection for prejudice, Beatrix,” Mart said, adding extra sting to his remark by reminding Trixie again of the real name she’d been trying to forget since her first day of school.
    “I’m not acting prejudiced about Jane Dix-Strauss,” Trixie protested. “Prejudice is when you dislike someone you’ve never met. I’ve met her.” ‘You do tend to jump to conclusions about people, though, Trix,” said Brian. “You jumped to the conclusion that Honey’s cousin, Ben Riker, was trying to sabotage the bikeathon, for example. Remember?”
    Suddenly humbled, and blushing yet again, Trixie nodded.
    Well, jumping to conclusions like that isn’t a good idea,” Brian said. “Keep an open mind about Jane Dix-Strauss, okay? She was just doing her job as a reporter. When you see the picture of us in the paper tomorrow, you’ll probably forget you were angry and start feeling grateful. I don’t think there’s another picture of all of us together. I hope we can get prints.”
    “That’s a wonderful idea!” Honey said. “We can have a copy framed and hang it in our clubhouse.” Even Trixie had to brighten at that idea. The clubhouse was the pride and joy of every member of the Bob-Whites.
    “You’re right, Honey and Brian. I’m sorry.” That was all Trixie had time to say, and even that short apology had to be shouted over the rattle of snare drums and the blare of cornets. The first of the marching bands was approaching the spot where the Bob-Whites were standing. The Memorial Day parade had really begun!
    The band stopped right in front of Trixie and her friends to do a close-order drill that had them applauding. The band moved on, and a motorcyle drill team moved forward, doing such close figure eights that the handlebars of the big machines almost touched the ground.
    After that came a group of clowns with colorful costumes and painted faces. The clowns tossed handfuls of candy into the crowd as they walked.
    Forgetting their status as teenagers, the Bob-Whites jumped and scrambled for the candy. Trixie caught a root-beer barrel, which she immediately unwrapped and popped into her mouth — just in time to see Honey give the candy she’d caught to a small boy standing nearby.
    Oh, woe, she thought. Honey just finished being more understanding than I was about Jane Dix-Strauss, and now she’s being more generous. When will 1 learn?
    Trixie’s moment of regret was brief, though, because next in the parade were the Arabian horses. Honey and Trixie both loved horses and riding almost as much as they loved solving mysteries.
    The Arabians — white, brown, and black — went by with prancing feet and plumelike tails. The silk tassels of their halters sparkled under the streetlights. The riders, in flowing robes of bright-colored satin, sat proudly on their mounts and waved at the crowd.
    Trixie turned to follow the horses with her eyes until they were lost from sight. Then she turned back to watch the rest of the parade. If this year was like other years, it was no more than half over.
    Suddenly, another bright light exploded in front of Trixie’s eyes. Startled, she thought confusedly that another flash had gone off nearby.
    But that thought only lasted a moment. The ball of orange flame was too huge to be a flash. The deafening boom that came with it told the real story.
    Somewhere off Main Street, something had just exploded!



2 * Retreat to Crabapple Farm

    AFTER THE EXPLOSION, there were one or two seconds of what seemed to Trixie to be the deepest, stillest silence