The Mystery of the Uninvited Ghost

sounds that were out of the ordinary. She studied the names and handwriting on the packages she laid on the long gift table in the alcove where the Bob-Whites had gathered the night of the Lynch robbery.
    “You’re as skittery as a cat,” Jim told her as he placed a large bowl of daisies on the table. “Something’s wrong.”
    Trixie opened her mouth to deny the charge, then sighed instead. She knew that Jim could read her face and manner like the pages of a primer. With a quick glance to be sure they were alone, she told him of Bobby’s ordeal and of the escape of the gang. “And there’s still Ella’s wheelchair and that two-headed fraud, Miss Ryks!”
    Jim didn’t scowl at her burst of venom. “Honey told me about the masquerade. She suspects, and I agree with her, that Miss Ryks stole Mrs. Boyer’s diamonds and ditched her own paste jewelry to draw suspicion away from herself.”
    Trixie nodded. “It has to be like that. I wish I knew why she’s coming to the wedding.”
    “So do I,” Jim said. “I’ll feel better when the police get here to take charge of this room. There’s enough stuff here for a bang-up yard sale!”
    Trixie widened her round blue eyes. “I’ll bet that’s it, Jim! That Oliver Tolliver steals wedding invitations when he can so that he’ll have entry to the houses where the gifts are on display.”
    “And the gifts are unwrapped, so he can tell which are really valuable,” Jim agreed. “Well! Maybe we’ve foiled him this time. Here come Molinson’s men.” For a few minutes, Trixie almost felt safe. The policemen were in plain clothes, but they looked as if they knew how to handle an emergency.
    Lunch was Juliana’s last meal as Miss Maasden. Of the Bob-Whites, only Dan Mangan was absent, and Bobby took his place at the table. After the previous night’s fright, the youngest Belden was unusually quiet.
    After lunch, the Bob-Whites worked in the garden. The minute that shade slanted across the bower, they placed a dozen baskets of daisies, golden-centered and wax-petaled, around it. The altar Regan had built was spread with the same white linen cloth that had been used at the Wheelers’ own wedding. Mrs. Vanderpoel supplied the top cloth of handmade lace. For sentiment’s sake, Mrs. Belden lent her best candlesticks.
    At three o’clock, Miss Trask declared everything in readiness. “It’s time to dress. I thank each and every one of you for your help. Now, let’s enjoy the wedding, shall we?”
    I’ll try, Trixie thought.
    Slowly, she walked through the garden and took a long look at the wonderland that had been created there. Between the altar in the bower and the bridal table on the terrace by the birdbath, rows of folding chairs waited for guests. Drifting butterflies, shadows of bird wings, and bursts of song made the scene so beautiful that Trixie felt like crying.
    She headed toward the house. As she passed the organ that had been set by the terrace entrance, she thought, At four-thirty, I’ll walk down that aisle of flowers. But what will Miss Ryks be doing? Trixie shivered.
    She met Sergeant Molinson in the lower hall of the house. He looked tired but alert. “About last night, Trixie—don’t you think you let that imagination of yours run away with you? We searched Miss Ryks’s room. There was no makeup or men’s clothing there.” Uh-oh! Trixie thought. She did see us in that mirror. “Her jewelry isn’t as valuable as Mrs. Boyer’s, but it’s still missing. Now, I’ve had a call from her nephew asking me to please pick up his aunt because she doesn’t want to miss the wedding of old friends. If she were a fraud, why would she deliberately put herself in such close contact with the police?”
    Trixie didn’t argue. Plainly, Sergeant Molinson didn’t buy her theory. So it’s up to me to prove Miss Ryks guilty, Trixie decided. But how? If Miss Ryks escapes today, there’ll he other country club acts, other robberies, and other little boys like Bobby in danger. Other teen-agers will be recruited from the streets and trained in crime. She’ll go on and on, becoming more skilled and causing more trouble.
    Trixie brought herself up short when she realized that she was thinking “she,” even though she knew Miss Ryks was the comic, Oliver Tolliver. He or she— did it matter which pronoun was used? This actor was playing out his role till the final curtain dropped.
    Trixie ran to the door to call to the sergeant before he left the porte