The Mystery of the Millionaire

it’s wonderful to happen upon strangers who are so helpful.” Laura’s smile took in Trixie, Honey, and Mr. Lytell. Then, turning back to Honey, she said, “I’m afraid I’ll have to make a couple of long-distance calls when we get to your house. I’ll make up some story for my father’s secretary, and then I’ll call the private detective my friend told me about.”
    “Of course,” Honey said.
    Laura and the girls walked out of the store to wait for Jim. Laura paused beside her car and ran her hand along one gleaming fender.
    “You’ll get your car back,” Trixie told her.
    “I’m sure I will,” Laura replied. “I just hate to part with it, even for a day.” She paused, then added, “Also, I don’t know how to get the title for Mr. Lytell, now that I’m not going home.”
    “He has the keys,” Honey said. “I’m sure that’s enough. After all, it’s only temporary. You’ll pay him back and get your car when your father has returned—and that will be very soon!”
    Just then Jim pulled up in the Bob-White station wagon. He got out of the car and walked over to the girls, his gaze fastened on Laura Ramsey.
    Honey introduced her brother to Laura, and he ran around to hold the front passenger door open for Laura, while Trixie and Honey climbed into the backseat. Then he loaded the bicycles in the back of the car.
    Jim drove first to Crabapple Farm, where he unloaded Trixie’s bike and said a quick good-bye to her.
    “We’ll call you tomorrow as soon as we know when the detective will be here,” Honey promised Trixie.
    Trixie nodded silently and stood, holding her bike, as the station wagon pulled away. A feeling of jealousy was churning in her stomach. It was bad enough that Laura was staying at Manor House, where she and Honey would share conversations that Trixie would only find out about secondhand.
    But the worst part, Trixie knew, was the immediate interested attention Laura had received from Jim Frayne.

Mysterious Mart ● 4

    TRIXIE HAD BEEN CONCENTRATING so hard on the departing station wagon that, when it finally disappeared from view, she had to blink, then shake her head to break the spell. She turned and started wheeling her bike up the driveway to the garage, the thoughts in her mind twirling faster than the spokes of the bicycle wheels.
    As usual, the hectic atmosphere of the Belden household at mealtime forced all other thoughts from her mind as soon as she walked through the back door.
    The normal aroma of food on the stove was missing, since Mrs. Belden had declared that morning that it was too hot to use the oven or do any more than a minimum of cooking on the stove. But there were tomatoes to slice and celery and carrots to scrub and cut into sticks. Mrs. Belden had put a mixture of sliced cucumbers and onions in a salt-water solution to soak that morning, and now Trixie poured off the salt water and replaced it with a mixture of vinegar and water and just a smidgeon of sugar. She set the table, put on the vegetables, bread and butter, and the cold tuna salad from the refrigerator, then hurried off to help Bobby wash his hands and face.
    As she returned to the kitchen, she called, “Come and get it,” and her two older brothers and her father emerged from the den to take their places at the table.
    “Whew!” Trixie whistled as she sank into her chair. “It’s a good thing you didn’t start the oven this afternoon, Moms. With all the racing around I just did, I think I generated enough heat to roast a—well, a roast!”
    “There’s nothing like a little exercise for putting an attractive, rosy glow in your cheeks,” Peter Belden observed, pouring himself a glass of iced tea before passing the pitcher to his daughter.
    Trixie took the pitcher gratefully and splashed the tea into her glass. “What Honey gets is an attractive, rosy glow. What I get is red and sweaty,” she said ruefully.
    “If you’d stayed indoors and listened to records the way we did this afternoon, instead of biking all over the countryside, you might not find the heat such a problem,” Brian told her.
    “I got a ride home from Jim,” Trixie said defensively, feeling her face growing even redder as she remembered the circumstances of that ride. “And besides, if you knew what happened this afternoon, you’d probably wish you’d ridden along with me.”
    “Why? What happened?” Brian asked curiously.
    “I don’t think I’ll tell,” Trixie said smugly as she helped herself