The Mystery of the Uninvited Ghost

agreed.
    “Well, then, when do we start?” Hallie asked. “We’ve already started,” Trixie answered. “We’ve proved that someone else could have taken Juliana’s ring. Now, we have to find out how Dan got hold of it.”
    “I'll call Mart and Brian when we get home,” Jim decided. “We’d better start a search for Dan.”
    When Jim drove into the porte cochère, Di and Honey whizzed alongside on bicycles. Honey shouted, “Miss Trask says all work and no play does you-know-what! Grab a bike and follow the leader!”
    The bicycle rack stood near the servants’ entrance. Trixie and Hallie scrambled out of the car and raced around the house. Hallie’s legs were longer, and she was the first to reach the rack.
    The only bicycle left for Trixie was Jim’s ten-speed. She mounted it and caught up easily with the rest of the girls. Di was “it” and led the romp that ended at the clubhouse. As she dropped the kickstand of Jim’s bicycle, Trixie was reminded of the similar blue bike at the inn.
    Uh-oh. Had Jim gone to the inn that night, too? No. He’d been waiting at the lake. Di hadn’t shared the evening swim, and neither had Dan. With a curl-bouncing shake of her blond head to clear her brain, Trixie hurried inside to join the fun of planning a shower for Juliana. With the mishmash of the Lynch robbery, Di’s missing invitation, that aggravating wheelchair, Juliana’s ring, and now Dan’s disappearance, Trixie felt that she needed something calm and orderly to think about.
    It had been Di’s idea to give the party, so Trixie made her head of the planning committee, handing her the gavel. Honey began writing down names on an invitation list. Hallie didn’t know anybody, so she just listened. Trixie found that she couldn’t concentrate on the party plans after all. She turned to Honey and asked softly, “Who uses the bikes in the rack?”
    Honey looked blank for an instant. “Lots of people —Jim, I, the maids, Regan—even Dad, if he wants to get somewhere in a hurry. There’s lots of ground to cover when you run errands around here.”
    “Thanks. May I be excused for a few minutes?” Di looked startled but gave permission.
    Trixie lost no time returning to the house. In the kitchen, she helped herself to a glass of milk as an excuse for being there. Trying to make her conversation about the bicycles sound casual was hopeless. The staff was familiar with the detective work by Honey and Trixie. Celia told her, “Maybe you’d best save your questions for Miss Trask.” Trixie decided that she was right and returned to the clubhouse.
    “Remember, not a word to Juliana!” Di warned when they had finished their plans. They rode back to the house. As Honey put her own bicycle in the rack, she said, “That’s funny. The bicycle Dad usually rides is still missing.”
    “Still?” Trixie repeated alertly.
    “Dad was going to use it Thursday morning, but it was gone, and he used Jim’s instead. I remember because Jim wondered how he had put the first scratch on the blue paint.”
    “Did you mention that similar bike at the inn?” Trixie asked.
    Honey said, “No. Should I have?”
    “Search me,” Trixie said, falling into step with Honey to follow Hallie and Di to the sewing room.
    There Miss Trask was in command. A blond girl sat at the sewing machine. Heavy braids were wrapped around her head, like a crown, above a thin, pretty face. Warm brown eyes sparkled behind thick glasses. She flashed a bright smile, pausing in her work only long enough to repeat names when Miss Trask made introductions.
    Her name was Ella Kline, and she did alterations for the Bride’s Shop, as well as mending for Glen Road Inn, where she had a room. “Ella will live in while our project is in progress,” Miss Trask said.
    Just then, Ella needed something from the cutting table. She swung up painfully from her chair on crutches. At once, Trixie’s mental computer did some calculating: Glen Road Inn plus Ella Kline—did that equal the elusive wheelchair?
    Usually Trixie paid little attention to clothes and fidgeted over dressmaking demands on her time. Today she stood quietly on a platform during the careful fitting of a tissue pattern. Miss Trask noticed and congratulated her. For an instant, Trixie stared blankly, then told Miss Trask, “I’m thinking.” After a few seconds, she looked down into Miss Trask’s eyes and saw the curiosity there. With Ella within earshot, Trixie couldn’t say, “Ella