The Mystery of the Uninvited Ghost

“I’ve done it again. I've lost my temper before Hallie and I have been together ten minutes.” Stiffly she said to her cousin, “I’m sorry. I thought—”
    “It’s okay, Trix,” Hallie said. “You thought my longer legs were the only thing about me that’s changed. You may not believe this, Trix—” Hallie suddenly looked embarrassed. She rubbed the polished hardwood floor with a bare toe. After a long silence she said abruptly, “Aw, skip it.” Her wide mouth stretched in its dimpleless grin. “Since you had no mystery to solve, I’ve delivered one. Let’s have a look at that suitcase.”

What Did Bobby See? • 2

    MR.BELDEN LEFT the room after giving an approving pat to each girl’s shoulder. Although he had said nothing more about the scene in Trixie’s room, words were not necessary. Trixie knew how he felt about his family and his home. Beldens at Crabapple Farm had put all their love and skill into building and preserving a gracious setting. The very rugs they walked on had been hooked in bright wools by Peter Belden’s grandmother. One Belden isn’t being very gracious, whispered Trixie’s conscience.
    As she followed Hallie to Bobby’s room, Trixie’s lashes dampened with tears she dared not shed. She liked people. Usually she got along well with everyone. Certainly she always made a special effort to make a guest feel at home. That was part of being a Belden.
    Family was important to her, and Hallie was family. A cousin only one year younger, a guest back in the house after a long absence, should make for one of the happiest months of the year. But—childhood’s rivalry remained. The minute Hallie showed up, Trixie’s bones became butter to be melted down by some kind of heat she produced within herself.
    Mr. Belden was a banker in Sleepyside, and Trixie had inherited his analytical mind. This had helped her to solve numerous mysteries. She had a sixth sense that warned her of the presence of a mystery. Now she sensed that no matter what adventure grew from the suitcase mix-up, Trixie Belden faced the biggest mystery of all, the mystery of self—the enormously important question, Who am I?
    Finding an answer must include knowing Hallie. Mentally Trixie had convicted Hallie of spying with binoculars and of lying about the suitcase, even though the law held one to be innocent until proved guilty. Trixie knew she had hastily jumped to a conclusion before the facts were in.
    “That’s no way to solve a mystery,” she muttered.
    “What did you say, Trix?”
    Trixie flushed. “Don’t mind me, Hallie. I’m always talking to myself.”
    “Me, too,” Hallie confessed. “It helps me to think. Sometimes my ears have more sense than my eyes.”
    Soberly the cousins looked at each other. Maybe, Trixie thought, Dad’s right. Maybe Hallie and I are a little bit alike. We both like mysteries, and we both talk to ourselves. That’s a beginning.
    Side by side, Trixie and Hallie stared down at the jumble of boy’s clothing heaped in the middle of Bobby’s bed. Trixie asked, “Who put the suitcase here?”
    “I carried it from the taxi and put it on the bed myself,” Hallie said.
    “Didn’t you notice—” Trixie began, then closed her mouth. Of course Hallie hadn’t noticed that the bag wasn’t hers. And that meant the wrong bag was the same size and color as Hallie’s own suitcase. “It’s obviously a case of a mix-up at the depot.”
    “Airport,” Hallie corrected. “I flew.”
    There I go again, jumping to conclusions, Trixie thought. Aloud, she asked, “Didn’t you have to present your baggage ticket?^
    Hallie arched her brows. “Sure, but there was a scramble. I dropped my ticket just as my bag showed up on the baggage turntable. I was afraid that it would whirl right past me and I’d have to wait for it to come around again, so I grabbed the bag, then looked for my ticket. A man said, ‘I saw this claim stub fall. Is it yours?’ I didn’t have time to check and just took it. The man turned and walked away, and so did I.”
    “Hey, whats holding up the parade?” Mart called. Feet thumped up the stairs, and both Mart and Brian skidded to a stop in front of the open door.
    Hallie drawled, “Come on in. I’m decent.”
    “We’ve been hearing about the baggage mix-up,” Brian said. He looked straight at Trixie.
    “So, my voice carries!” Trixie snapped, then flushed and avoided Brian’s eyes. She prodded among some rolled-up socks on the bed. “Do