The Mystery of the Midnight Marauder

steering wheel and reached into the pocket of his jacket. “Take a look at this,” he said. “It must have arrived in the store’s mail yesterday. Somehow, though, it got buried under some papers on my desk. I didn’t find it until I went there first thing this morning to finish off some bookkeeping. I didn’t know what to do. I was about to call the police when you arrived at the house.”
    He handed her a letter.
    Honey drew in her breath sharply as she recognized the hand-printed letters on the envelope.
    “And you say this arrived at the store yesterday?” she asked.
    Mr. Crimper nodded and looked worried.
    The envelope was similar to the one delivered to Manor House the previous day. This time it said merely: Mr. Crimper, Crimper’s Department Store, Sleepyside-on-the-Hudson, N.Y.
    Even as Trixie unfolded the letter, she knew what she would find.
    The message read:

BEWARE!
TOMORROW NIGHT I’M GOING TO VISIT YOU!
THE MIDNIGHT MARAUDER

    “If this was delivered yesterday,” Trixie said slowly, “then that means the Marauder is going to visit the store tonight!”
    “I know,” Mr. Crimper said briefly.
    Trixie felt a surge of excitement. This was the big chance she’d been hoping for. The Midnight
    Marauder wasn’t going to be the only one to visit the old department store tonight.
    Somehow, in some way, Trixie intended to be there, too.

Trixie Makes Plans • 16

    TRIXIE WAS STILL THINKING about the letter when Mr. Crimper stopped at the entrance to the Beldens’ driveway.
    “Will you two be all right if I drop you here?” he asked. “I want to catch Sergeant Molinson before he goes back to town.”
    The two girls nodded and watched as Honey’s bike was carefully lifted to the ground. Then, with a cheerful wave of the hand, Mr. Crimper was gone.
    He was no sooner out of sight than Honey turned to her friend eagerly. “Well?” she demanded. “Did it match?”
    Trixie had been so busy making and discarding first one plan and then another that she didn’t realize at first what Honey meant. She frowned. “Did what match? Oh, you mean this?”
    She pulled the scrap of material from her pocket once more and stared at it absently.
    “Of course I mean that,” Honey exclaimed impatiently. “I knew you wanted me to look at old Mr. Crimper’s jewelry boxes to give yourself a chance to compare the two pieces of cloth. I also saw you holding one against the other behind his back.”
    Trixie chuckled. “I didn’t think you’d noticed.“
    “So did they match? Was Grandpa’s torn shirt the one the Midnight Marauder was wearing on Friday night?”
    Honey’s face fell as Trixie shook her head. “No,” Trixie said, “it didn’t. It was the wrong shade of red. And from the way Mrs. Crimper was scolding just as we were leaving, I’ve got an idea that Grandpa’s shirt wasn’t torn when he left home this morning. Maybe it got ripped when we collided on our bikes.”
    Honey sighed. “I was hoping we’d found the villain.”
    “Perhaps we already have,” Trixie said, still thinking hard. “Have you considered that it might be young Mr. Crimper who’s the Midnight Marauder? I have a hunch—”
    Honey stared. “But why would you think so?“
    “He does have a truck,” Trixie pointed out, “and we know the vandal drove one on Friday night.” She ran a hand through her curls. “I just can’t think why he would want to vandalize his own store, though.”
    “Maybe to collect the insurance money?” Honey suggested.
    “Then why did he also rob the school—and Wimpy’s—and the Robin? It just doesn’t make sense.”
    “None of it has made sense,” Honey exclaimed suddenly, “ever since this business started. The villain, whoever he is, broke a window at school and stole only a small amount of cash. He stole hamburger meat from Wimpy’s—and then he dropped it from his truck—”
    “—and the rest he stored in an old shed in the woods,” Trixie added.
    “And then when he came to the Robin , ” Honey said, “he stole three junk-jewelry necklaces and only ten dollars in cash.”
    The two girls stared at each other.
    “It’s almost as if he’s just trying to be a pest,” Trixie said at last.
    “Or someone who likes practical jokes.”
    “Or someone else at school that we haven’t thought of,” Trixie said slowly. “One of Mart’s pen pals who’ve been writing to Miss Lonelyheart.”
    Honey was silent, and Trixie guessed she was trying to think which teen-ager it