The Mystery of the Missing Heiress

anxiously under the hood, then turned to Mrs. Hendricks. “It’s a shame we have to bother you like this.”
    “What’s worse, I’m afraid we’ll have to bother you more,” Brian said. “May we please use your telephone to call the Automobile Club?”
    “Of course,” Mrs. Hendricks answered and opened the door for him. “Nothing like this ever happened on our block before.”
    It was a long time till the mechanic arrived. He shook his head at the damage.
    “Can we get going soon?” Jim asked.
    “Not for a couple of hours, at least,” the man said, puzzled. “Whoever did this must really hate all of you.”
    “Nobody around here even knows us, so they couldn’t hate us,” Trixie said.
    “Then it must have been some weirdo,” the repairman said. “It happens everywhere nowadays. Too often, I’d say.”
    “Won’t you come inside and wait?” Mrs. Hendricks asked the Bob-Whites. “It’ll be more fun watching television than just sitting around here.”
    “Is there a shopping center near here?” Trixie asked. She didn’t want to wear out their welcome.
    “Three blocks up this street,” the neighbor answered. “The stores are interesting, and there’s a branch of the Bronx library.”
    “Let’s walk up there then,” Trixie said to Honey. “Is it all right, Brian?”
    “Sure—but not for more than two hours. When the mechanic gets through here, we get rolling.”
    “You’d better leave whatever cash you have with me,” Jim told Honey. “It might run into money.”
    It did run into money, and it was late afternoon before the station wagon was in running order again.
    “Get in the backseat, please, Mart,” Jim suggested as they thanked Mrs. Hendricks, said goodbye to Tommy, and climbed into the station wagon. “I’ll do the driving going back, and I like plenty of arm room.”
    “Yeah, we’ve had all the bad luck we can take for one day,” Mart agreed and climbed obediently into the third seat, stretching out full length.
    Trixie, about to climb in behind Jim and Brian, stepped on something hard and turned her ankle. She would have fallen if Honey hadn’t caught her.
    “Never mind,” she said quietly. “Don’t get excited, anyone. It didn’t hurt me. I just stumbled on this.” She held up a brown pipe, handling it gingerly and wrinkling her nose at its smell. Then she threw it into the shrubbery.
    “It was probably something Tommy was playing with.”
    “Or maybe the mechanic left it. Are you sure nothing’s wrong?” Brian asked, puzzled by the odd look on Trixie’s face. “Does your ankle hurt?”
    “No,” she answered, and Jim started the car.
    When they were on their way, however, Trixie whispered to Honey, “Did you smell that pipe?”
    “I can still smell it on your hand,” Honey answered under her breath. “Here’s a piece of tissue. Wipe off your hand. Why are we whispering?”
    “I’ve smelled that same tobacco before, that’s why.”
    Honey giggled. “I sometimes agree with Mart. You can make a mystery out of anything, Trixie.”
    “Maybe I can. But when two unusual things happen together, it can add up to mystery. You don’t think all those wires tangled themselves, do you?”
    “For pete’s sake, quit giggling and talking and let somebody rest, won’t you?” Mart complained.
    “You’re just bothered because you don’t know what we’re saying.”
    “Wrong again, Trix,” Mart answered. “All I’m interested in just now is food—food with a capital F. I hope Moms has kept something warm for us.”
    She had—a huge iron kettle of bubbling-hot soup. And there were sandwiches and a big wooden bowl of tangy garden-vegetable salad.
    They all gathered around the kitchen sink to wash their hands, crowding and splashing.
    “Some of you could use the lavatory in the downstairs bathroom,” Trixie’s father suggested. “What made you so late?”
    They all tried to answer at once, telling about the damage to the car and their long frustrating wait.
    “I’ll bet you were plenty mad,” Bobby said, when they were all at the table, “ ’specially when you didn’t find Juliana there.”
    Trixie dropped her spoon, almost spilling her soup- “We haven’t told you that yet. How could you possibly know that?”
    “ ’Cause she’s here!” Bobby cried triumphantly.
    “Here? Here in this house? Moms, is she?”
    “He didn’t mean this house,” Mrs. Belden said. “I was going to tell you about it as soon as you all settled down a