The Mystery of the Midnight Marauder

Brian was being unusually bossy.
    It was four o’clock when Trixie put away all the cleaning materials. Then she said casually, “By the way, Brian, I’ve been invited to sleep over at Honey’s again tonight.”
    Brian was unsuspicious. “Don’t be late for school in the morning, then” was all he answered.
    Stopping only to snatch an old jacket from her room, Trixie raced out of the house. Minutes later, as arranged, she met Honey at the bus stop at the bottom of the Wheelers’ driveway.
    “Everything all set?” Trixie asked, making sure no one was watching them.
    “I still feel guilty,” Honey said, pulling her jacket closer around her. “I told Miss Trask I was sleeping over at your house. You’ve told Brian you’re sleeping over at mine. I just hope no one finds out what fibs we’ve been telling.”
    She was still worrying about it when the bus arrived, and by the time they reached Sleepyside, Trixie was feeling just as guilty as her friend.
    As she led the way across the town square, she comforted herself with the thought that she and Honey had lied in order to help Mart.
    “I still don’t know what we’re supposed to do now,” Honey remarked as, once more, they stood outside Crimper’s Department Store.
    “But I do,” Trixie replied. “I’ve got it all worked out. Don’t forget, Honey, I’ve known Crimper’s ever since I was little. I know of a place inside the store where we can hide. Then we’re going to wait until the Midnight Marauder arrives.”
    “And what happens after that?” Honey asked.
    “We’ll figure that out later—I hope,” Trixie replied.
    Honey shivered and looked up and down the street. It was almost as if she expected the Midnight Marauder to appear right then. But all she saw was the usual number of Sunday shoppers.
    Trixie glanced at young Mr. Crimper’s glass-fronted office as they hurried into the store, but he wasn’t there, nor did anyone show the slightest interest in their movements.
    Soon Trixie had led the way to the creaking old elevator, and moments later, she and Honey were on their way to the second floor.
    When they arrived, Trixie stepped out and looked carefully to her right. There, two saleswomen, deep in a conversation of their own, didn’t even look around.
    “Quick, Honey, this way!” Trixie muttered as she walked toward a stack of mattresses piled high along one wall.
    Honey glanced at the array of bedroom furniture that now surrounded her. “What—” she began.
    Trixie was tugging urgently at her arm. Wordlessly, she pointed.
    Honey gasped as she saw, beside the mattresses, a small door. “What is it?” she asked.
    “It’s an unused cupboard,” Trixie hissed in her ear. “It’s not very deep, but it runs the length of the upper story. I found it once—oh, long ago when Moms was shopping and I got bored.”
    While she was talking, she had already grasped the handle and had pulled on it gently. It opened without a sound.
    Honey glanced over her shoulder.
    “It’s all right,” Trixie told her impatiently. “No one can see us. The mattresses are hiding us from everybody.”
    The space inside the cupboard was pitch black. “Is—is this where we’re going to hide?” Honey asked, knowing the answer.
    Trixie nodded. “Come on,” she whispered. “Follow me.”
    She had to bend almost double to get through the small door, but once she was inside, there was plenty of headroom.
    She waited until Honey was standing beside her, and then she closed the door softly behind them.
    When their eyes became accustomed to the darkness around them, Trixie could see old pipes and cables running along the outside wall. She guessed the space served as a storage area, too, though she could see little of the boxes around her. There was no light of any kind, and Trixie soon began wishing she had thought to bring one with her.
    “What now?” Honey whispered through the darkness.
    “Now we wait,” Trixie whispered back. “We can sit on the floor and wait till everyone’s gone.”
    “And then?”
    Trixie sighed. “And then, if we’re lucky, we’ll be ready to catch the Midnight Marauder.”
    Even after the store was closed, Trixie insisted on staying hidden.
    The hours passed slowly. Outside, there was no sound. The luminous hands on Honey’s watch showed ten o’clock, eleven, eleven-thirty.
    At last, Trixie eased herself quietly to her feet and took a cautious step forward.
    “I think it’s safe,” she said at last. “We can