The Mystery of the Memorial Day Fire

“Did you really think I’d pass up an interview with Sleepy-side’s only arsonist?”
    There was silence in the stable. Trixie could sense the man’s anger at the reporter’s jibe. He turned away, into Trixie’s line of vision.
    Trixie put her hand over her mouth to stifle a gasp. It is! It’s Mr. Slettom! she exclaimed soundlessly.
    “I don’t remember admitting that I started those fires,” the man said.
    “No, that’s true,” Jane Dix-Strauss told him. “Your secretary said that you had some information for me. I guess I just assumed, since she insisted on giving me this information in the middle of the night in an out-of-the-way place, that it was, shall we say, firsthand.”
    “You’re a cagey one, aren’t you?” Mr. Slettom asked, without expecting an answer.
    “So are you,” Jane Dix-Strauss said. “Shifting the blame onto Nicholas Roberts was especially clever.”
    “Yeah, well — that’s the one thing I’m really sorry about,” Slettom said. “Not that the police suspected him — I meant for that to happen. But I never thought it would go this far. Why, they’re about to press charges against him.”
    “You wanted Mr. Roberts suspected just enough so they couldn’t suspect you, is that it?” Jane Dix-Strauss asked.
    “Yeah, that’s it,” Mr. Slettom said. “I couldn’t let him be arrested or have to stand trial. He’s a nice man, with a nice family. I tell you, I was getting pretty nervous. I was afraid I might have to confess to having set those fires myself.”
    “That’s where I came in, is it?” Jane Dix-Strauss said.
    Mr. Slettom had been pacing back and forth as he spoke, moving in and out of Trixie’s narrow range of vision. Now he stopped and looked back at the reporter in surprise. “You figured that out, too, did you?” he asked. “My, you are a clever one.”
    “Let’s see how clever I am,” she said. “My guess is that you really got desperate when you heard the Belden girl talking to Sergeant Molinson this morning. When she said she’d found my button in the alley behind the store, you, of course, knew it was really your button, Mr. James D. Slettom. You also knew that I’d know the button wasn’t mine, and that I’d soon figure out whose it was.
    “But Trixie’s accusation gave you an idea, too. You’d cast a little suspicion on me, the way you already had on Mr. Roberts. It would take some of the heat off him, without getting me into serious trouble. Is that how you’d figured it?”
    “That’s it, almost exactly. I’ve got to hand it to you.” There was genuine admiration in Slettom’s voice. “You’re too new around here to know it, but that young Belden girl has a reputation for being a pretty good detective. Sergeant Molinson didn’t believe her today, but after you’re found at the scene of the third fire, he’ll reconsider.”
    “Aren’t you worried about the countercharges I’ll make against you?” Jane Dix-Strauss asked.
    “Well, no,” Slettom said slowly. “You see, I don’t plan for you to be able to make any countercharges. I guess that’s the one place where you figured it wrong — the part about me not getting you into serious trouble. I’m going to have to get you into the worst kind of trouble there is.”
    “Are you saying you’re planning to kill me?” Jane Dix-Strauss asked. Trixie was amazed at the coolness in the reporter’s tone.
    “Oh, well, that’s putting it kind of strong. I’d just say I’m not going to save you, once the fire starts.” From her hiding place, Trixie saw Mr. Slettom suddenly raise his arm, then lower it. There was a thud as something hit Jane Dix-Strauss on the head. The reporter seemed to crumple, then dropped out of Trixie’s sight.
    Mr. Slettom stood for a moment looking down at her. The expression on his face made Trixie’s stomach turn. He looked grim and sad and triumphant, all at the same time. Then he bent down and was also lost from Trixie’s field of vision.
    Not being able to see what was happening, Trixie strained her ears for clues. There were a couple of scraping sounds that were familiar, but she couldn’t identify them. Then Mr. Slettom stood up again. Trixie could see him looking down at Jane Dix-Strauss.
    “I’m sorry,” he said. “I really am. This was the best way — the only way, although I suppose I can’t expect you to understand that. Nicholas Roberts has a family that needs him. So do I. You don’t. You don’t have family, you