The Mystery of the Uninvited Ghost

answered, “I said it’s against the law to open other people’s mailboxes.”
    “What about opening suitcases?” Mart put in slyly. He fished a carrot from Trixie’s tray and got his fingers slapped. She offered him the plastic refrigerator bowl, and he helped himself to a radish.
    Hallie told her worried young cousin, “Never mind, Bobby. I won’t tell the police.”
    “Not that. I mean the part about the wheelchair,” Trixie said.
    “I dunno. Brian drove in front.”
    Brian was draining boiling water from the com.
    Holding his dark head well back from swirling steam, he said, “Now, that doesn’t make sense. If there’d been a wheelchair for me to drive around, I’d have seen it. I drove around your scooter, Bobby.”
    “I didn’t say you drove around it,” Bobby said earnestly. “I said you drove in front and I couldn’t see.”
    “Just where was the wheelchair, Bobby?” Trixie asked.
    Bobby was tired of the conversation. “How do I know? I couldn’t see it with my eyes. Just with the nocklers.”
    Mart wiggled sandy eyebrows at Bobby, then winked at Hallie. “Methinks it’s a figment of the young lad’s fertile imagination. He’s a genius at getting out of a tight situation.”
    Bobby scowled. “I don’t think I like what you sound like I said. Now can we eat, Moms?”
    As she munched on sweet com dripping with butter, Trixie worked on Bobby’s puzzling statements. Once she asked, “Are you sure you saw a wheelchair?”
    Bobby squirmed with impatience while Brian set the holders in the ends of a hot ear of corn. “Sure, I’m sure,” he retorted as he began his third serving.

Off-Key Whistle ● 3

    HAVING EATEN SO much com that dessert would have to wait until later, the Beldens went about their business. Brian and Bobby took Hallie on a tour of the farm.
    “Okay now, Trixie?” Mr. Belden asked casually. She nodded, and he carried the newspaper to the porch swing. Mrs. Belden joined him.
    When Trixie began to clear the table, Mart offered, “You wash, I’ll wipe.”
    While they worked, Trixie said, “I’m sorry I kicked you.”
    Mart grinned. He was exactly eleven months older than Trixie. Calling themselves the almost-twins, they often quarreled, but they also understood each other and were fiercely loyal.
    “What kind of sense do you make of Bobby’s story?” Trixie asked.
    “None,” Mart answered. “How could he have seen a wheelchair? Who do we know that owns one?” Before she could think of an answer, Trixie heard the familiar sound of the Bob-White station wagon. She hurried to the back porch. As Jim Frayne slid out from behind the steering wheel, he called, “Did you save the pie?”
    “We fought the good fight, but Moms protected that delectable concoction with her very life!” Mart shouted back. Jim, Honey, Di Lynch, and the young Beldens had picked raspberries all morning in anticipation of the evening treat.
    Trixie met Honey with a hug. She waved a hello to red-haired Jim and watched as Hans and Juliana crossed the yard.
    Tiny and blond, Juliana Maasden glowed with happiness, providing a sharp contrast with the injured girl who had recently regained her memory and health at Crabapple Farm. The solution of the mystery of Juliana’s identity was considered by both Trixie and Honey to be one of their proudest achievements. They had proved Jim Frayne’s dishonest stepfather to be the cause of the wreck that had almost cost Juliana both her life and her inheritance. And they had given Jim a gift he treasured above all others—a living relative.
    Blowing kisses, Juliana ran across the drive and up the steps. As she jostled for space on the porch swing, Mr. Beldens paper slid off his lap. He woke with a start and rubbed a hand across his eyes. “Who’s asleep? I was—”
    “—just thinking with my eyes shut!” chorused Trixie and Honey.
    Blond and tall, Hans leaned against a porch post. He shared the happy mood but said little. A rising young lawyer in Holland, he had come from Amsterdam to search for Juliana. His arrival had caused her to regain her memory. In August, he would take her home to Holland.
    When all the guests were comfortable, Trixie took Honey to her room, then threw herself on one of the twin beds, anus flung wide. Dramatically she cried, “It’s happened! She’s here!”
    Honey looked bewildered. “Who?”
    Trixie scowled. “My cousin, Hallie Belden! That’s who! I’ve told you about her.”
    “Oh! You mean the one you