The Mystery of the Uninvited Ghost

Trix. I put out the fire myself. Taking care of-things—is my job, you know.”
    Hans and Juliana were just coming back from a long walk when the riders returned to the stable. Juliana made a fist with her left hand and waggled her wrist at Dan. “See? I haven’t lost my ring yet, Dan.”
    “Be sure that you don’t,” he told her. “See you later.” Back at Crabapple Farm, after the kitchen work in preparation for dinner was done, Trixie went to her room. Hallie followed but didn’t enter until Trixie asked her in.
    Nothing had been said about wheelchairs since the blowup in the parking lot. Still, the puzzle of Bobby’s story remained. Standing at the window overlooking the lane, Trixie muttered, “There has to be an explanation, and I’m going to find it.”
    Hallie left the room and came back with Cap’s binoculars. She gave them to Trixie. Frustrated, Trixie complained, “I can’t see a thing with these that
    I can’t see with my own two eyes. The only difference is that I can see everything more clearly.” Hallie was prowling the room. “If you have something to say, say it!” Trixie demanded.
    “Bobby didn’t say he stayed at that window.”
    “No... he didn’t,” Trixie agreed.
    “Well?”
    Trixie ran to the window by her desk. “With our house sitting down here in a bowl, we get a worm’s-eye view of Glen Road.” She was silent while she looked, then said, “There. I do see a mailbox, but I don’t know whose it is. I see it through the trees.” She ran to the hall and reached for the telephone.
    “Who are you calling?” Hallie asked.
    “Jim,” Trixie said. When she heard his voice on the line, Trixie immediately asked, “Will you do something for me, Jim?”
    “Silly question,” Hallie whispered.
    “Jim, will you drive down Glen Road, almost to town, then turn around and come back here? And each time you pass a mailbox, will you look at your watch and write down the time? There are such a few that it won’t take long. Let’s synchronize your watch and my desk clock. Okay?”
    When Jim agreed, Trixie hung up. She told Hallie, “Once and for all, we’ll know where Bobby saw that wheelchair.” Until Hallie smiled, Trixie didn’t realize that she’d said “we.” She blushed self-consciously but allowed the word to stand. She was beginning to include Hallie Belden.
    Trixie stood at the window, and Hallie faced the clock, armed with pencil and note pad. While they gave Jim time to reach the mailbox, they talked about their horseback ride.
    “I couldn’t keep track of where we rode,” Hallie commented. “I’d hate to get lost in those woods.” Trixie nodded. “Up where those firs grow, it’s pretty high and rugged. If there’d been a straight trail, we could have ridden to the stable behind the Manor House in just a few minutes. There is a footpath through that part of the woods. Sometimes we ride bicycles on it down the hill from the stable. Except for crossing Glen Road, the path’s all on private land. In fact, it goes all the way to the inn.”
    Trixie snapped to attention. “I see Jim’s car, and now—he’s going in front of that mailbox. What time is it?”
    “It’s exactly four thirty-five,” Hallie answered as she wrote it down.
    The girls waited for Jim in the yard. Before he came to a full stop, he called, “I can’t stay. Mother says we have to be on time for dinner. Juliana’s making something special to prove to Hans that she can cook.” Trixie interrupted. “Where were you at four thirty-five?”
    “In front of Di’s mailbox. Why?”
    “That’s when we saw you with the binoculars.”
    “Well, that’s where the action is,” Hallie said. “Bobby must have seen Di’s invitation being stolen. But why would anyone steal an invitation?”
    “Because he was lonesome?” Jim teased. “Curiosity?” Trixie offered.
    “Information,” Jim said, turning sober. “When you think of it, there’s quite a lot of information on a wedding invitation—the place, the date, and the exact time when a lot of people will be sitting in one spot together. It tells who’s involved and why. It gives the exact names of two generations of people.” Round-eyed, Trixie declared, “You’d make a good crook, Jim Frayne! That’s exactly how Oliver Tolliver, the mentalist, operates in the country clubs. Do you suppose he stole the wheelchair and the invitation before he disappeared?”
    “But why would he want the wheelchair?” Hallie