The Mystery of the Uninvited Ghost

Trixie said. “It was a local call. Glen Road Inn can’t be more than a couple of miles from Manor House.”
    “It isn’t even that far,” Jim corrected. “That’s the part that worries Hans. He doesn’t know anyone in the valley, and Juliana doesn’t know anyone we don’t know. Hans thinks it’s strange that Miss Ryks didn’t call when Juliana was in trouble, if she’s all that much of a friend of the family. On the other hand, if Miss Ryks just arrived at the inn, how did she know where to find Juliana? And why did she ask for Hans, not Juliana?”
    “It is confusing, isn’t it?” Trixie agreed. Her logical mind began working on the problem. “Juliana went to college in New York. I’m sure she knows lots of people. There are her special friends, the De Jongs, on vacation in the Poconos. Any number of people could have told Miss Ryks where to find Juliana. Her close friends know about her engagement to Hans.
    By this time, they’re getting their wedding invitations. Word must be getting around.”
    Jim nodded. “I suppose it’s even possible that Miss Ryles knows some other Hans Vorwald.”
    “Who’s engaged to some other Juliana Maasden?” Trixie teased. “Since Vorwald and Maasden are such very ordinary names, that has to be the answer!”
    Jim forced a smile. He picked up and set down his mug several times, making a pattern of wet rings.
    “Is there something you’re not telling me, Jim?” Trixie asked.
    “No. It’s only that Hans would just as soon forget that phone call, but it was such a strange call that he can't.”
    “And neither can you,” Trixie sighed. The chill she felt was not caused by drinking frosted root beer.
    A small sporting goods store stood across the street from Wimpy’s. In muggy, end-of-July weather, the shop didn’t do much business. That was the first reason that Trixie noticed a man stop to look at its one display window. The second reason was that she was sure she had seen that same man, just a few hours earlier, pushing an empty wheelchair down Glen Road.
    She became so absorbed in watching him that she walked over to a window to get a better view. Jim followed. He studied the whole block. “What in blazes do you see out there, Trixie?”
    “Let’s go look at that display window.”
    For the first time since they had talked about Hans’s strange phone call, Jim Frayne laughed. “It takes a mind reader to keep up with you, Trixie.” He paid for their root beers and followed her out the door.
    It was like stepping from an icebox into an oven, but Trixie ignored the heat and marched across the street. When she reached the store window, she gazed inside a moment, then muttered, “Nuts!”
    “Well, what did you expect? Cannonballs?”
    Inside the shop, the tall young man bent over a showcase. He pointed at a gun so small that it looked as harmless as a toy. Jim whistled. “Wow! That’s a wicked one. With a little work, its trigger can be set to go off if you blow on it. Now, why do you suppose he wants that?”
    “He doesn’t,” Trixie answered. “He’s buying rope.” As she started to turn from the window, the man glanced up. For a long moment he stared, then bowed. Trixie nodded in return.
    In surprise Jim asked, “Do you know him?”
    “Do you?” Trixie countered. “He’s looking at you, too.” She caught sight of Honey, already inside Wimpy’s and waving for their attention. “Come on. We’re being paged.”
    Following her, Jim said, “You never did answer my question, Trixie.”
    “About that man? He’s the one Hallie and I saw pushing that wheelchair. He must have collected the reward money, and it’s binning a hole in his pocket.” Trixie and Jim had stood in the sun long enough to get thirsty again. They reordered root beers and
    joined in the talk about everything and nothing. Trixie sketched the latest news about the wheelchair. Suddenly Hallie said, “I saw a truck go by.”
    “How about that? Don’t they have trucks in Idaho?” Jim teased. “Now, let me tell you about trucks. They’re vehicles, four-wheeled, used for—”
    Hallie ignored Jim. “This was a truck belonging to the Teed Moving Service—the same moving service that lost the wheelchair.”
    “Where?” Trixie tried to scan the street from her place in the middle of the group.
    Hallie jerked a thumb toward the parking lot. “In the alley.”
    “I never noticed a warehouse there,” Trixie said. Jim asked, “Why should you? What have you wanted