The Mystery of the Uninvited Ghost

no reward,” Hallie agreed.
    “And no mystery,” Trixie added. But if that were true, why did she have the uneasy feeling that this man wished he hadn’t been seen? As they came face-to-face, she noticed a look of softness about the man that Mart would have called sissiness. Still, he was a broad-shouldered, rather tall man, clean-shaven and ordinary-looking.
    Trixie glanced back several times. Once she caught the man looking back at her.
    Again a prickle of uneasiness caused Trixie to scan the road. Glen Road itself had a hard surface and yielded little in the way of clues. But, there, some distance before the Wheeler mailbox, a wilted clematis vine lay across the edge of the road.

A Distorting Phone Call • 5

    TRIXIE BRAKED HER BICYCLE for a closer look at the wilted vine. This could be the spot where Jim and Hans had seen the chair. There was room for a wheelchair to have been hidden among those dusty bushes.
    On the other hand, last night’s fleeing thieves could have bruised the clematis. After a close look, both Hallie and Trixie agreed they could see no track tire marks beyond the traffic lane, nor could they find wheelchair marks.
    Beside the Wheeler mailbox, Di waited for the cousins. She looked so sober that Trixie decided not to mention either the robbery or the missing invitation unless she had to. She was glad to talk about the mystery that was no mystery. “That man must have found the chair yesterday and shoved it out of the way of traffic. When he read his paper, he came back for the reward.”
    Di made no response. After a tactful silence, Hallie raised the possibility that two men could have been involved. In any case, she still wondered how Bobby could have seen a man from that upstairs window the day before.
    When they reached the clubhouse, they found that Jim and Honey had already changed into bathing suits. Dan rode up on Spartan. As he came closer, he began an off-key whistle. Spartan had been a circus horse and responded to the melody with a ponderous dance. Hallie applauded the performance enthusiastically.
    Dan was so obviously pleased by Hallie’s reaction that Trixie didn’t mind—much—when Jim walked to the lake with her cousin. It gave her a chance to walk with Honey. That left Dan with Di, and Trixie heard him ask, “Your dad had insurance on your furniture, didn’t he?”
    “Oh, sure,” Di answered, “but it’s difficult to make an exact list of everything that was in the room last night-like my doughnut-shaped portable radio. I’m pretty sure it was in the family room yesterday. I never leave it on my bike handle, and there’s no sense carrying it to my room. I have a stereo up there.”
    “I’m sorry, Di. If I could have prevented this... Dan’s voice dwindled to a mumble. Trixie wondered how on earth Dan thought he could have prevented that robbery.
    By the time they reached the dock at the lake, Di was almost cheerful again, and so was Dan.
    Lunch at Manor House was served at a large round picnic table set on the flagstone area near a very old birdbath. Black-faced cardinals sang, “Wet year, wet year, weet, weet, weet!” Dan found a couple of melon seeds in his fruit cup and flipped them out to the birds. This started the whole red-feathered flock strutting around the table, looking for more handouts. Even Mr. Wheeler hunted for stray seeds and sent Jim to the kitchen to rescue some from the garbage disposal.
    In this gay setting, Hans glowed each time he looked at Juliana, and so did Jim. Once Jim turned to Trixie to say, “There’s something special about knowing that another person has the same ancestry as you do.”
    Again Trixie was reminded that Jim wouldn’t understand her wariness toward Hallie—the wariness that she was trying so hard to conceal. She had to admit that Hallie was easier to get along with than she had expected.
    In a fresh white pants suit loaned by Honey, Hallie looked relaxed and totally at home. She didn’t stand in awe of Honey’s parents. Trixie heard her ask their red-haired host, “Are you sure Jim is adopted?”
    Mr. Wheeler touched his red sideburns as he grinned at red-haired, freckled Jim. “I’m sure, but we don’t advertise it, not with our carrottops.”
    At that moment, Celia brought the garden telephone to the table. “Excuse me, Mrs. Wheeler. There’s a call for Mr. Hans.”
    “Would you like to take the call over by the bird-bath?” Mrs. Wheeler asked her guest.
    With a quick little bow that