The Mystery of the Vanishing Victim

deserted street, and that you witnessed a really horrible accident. If I’d followed you in the station wagon, that might not have happened. Perhaps it wouldn’t have prevented the hit and run directly, though—especially if, as you say, the driver hit the victim intentionally.“
    “Do you mean you believe my theory about the hit and run?” Trixie asked excitedly. After so much doubt from Honey, Brian, Mart, and Sergeant Molinson, she was thrilled at the thought that Jim might not think her story “ridiculous.”
    “I believe you believe it,” Jim said. “I’ve seen your hunches be right too many times to dismiss this one totally. I think that what the sergeant said is correct, though: At this point, it doesn’t really matter whether the hit and run was intentional or not, because it was a criminal act either way. What’s important is that the police will probably look for some connection between the driver and the victim—once they find out who the driver and the victim are. ”
    Trixie nodded, but the corners of her mouth were drooping. She’d hoped for real backing from Jim. That wasn’t what he’d given her, but she knew it would have to do for now. There was no way of proving her hunch to anyone.
    “Well, I think it’s high time we turn our attention back to the rummage sale,” Jim said. “Now that we have the Model A to sell and the other antique cars to draw a crowd, it seems to me we ought to work even harder to make sure the sale is as successful as possible.
    “Since I’ve had some time on my hands, last night and this morning,” he continued, “I took the liberty of forging ahead with the project. I called the Sleepyside Sun and told them the antique car show had been added to the sale. The reporter I spoke with was really excited—it turns out he’s an old-car buff himself. I’m sure we’ll get a good write-up in the paper because of him.”
    “Oh, Jim, that’s terrific!” Trixie crowed.
    “I also went over to the clubhouse this morning and lettered two signs to put on the side of the Model A. They might not be as artistic as the ones Honey and Di would have made, but at least they’re done.“
    “Oh, Jim, stop! Now you’re starting to make me feel guilty! You’ve done everything while we were forgetting all about the rummage sale because of the accident!” Trixie wailed.
    “Your turn is coming up,” Jim said. “Here’s what I started thinking: Our original plan was simply to put up posters around town telling people about the rummage sale and asking them to call us with donations. That would have been fine for a small sale. But now that it’s gotten big, I think we ought to go from door to door asking for donations. We have six days. I think we could cover most of the houses in Sleepyside.”
    “Of course we can!” Trixie said. “Why, almost everyone has a corner of a basement or an attic where they put things they don’t want anymore. When the pile gets big enough, or when they think of it, they call a charity to pick it up, or they have a rummage sale of their own. But if we get there first, I bet we could collect a ton of stuff!”
    “An exceedingly ingenious inspiration,” Mart told Jim approvingly.
    Jim inclined his head toward Mart in a mock bow. “I had time for just one more step,” he said. He reached into his shirt pocket and took out a folded map. “This is Sleepyside-on-the-Hudson,” he announced in the tone of a lecturer. “Notice that a series of heavy black lines have been added to the original cartography. These lines divide the town into roughly equal residential districts. Each district is numbered. My plan is that we divide into teams and cover the town, district by district.”
    “You seem to have thought of everything,” Brian said admiringly.
    “Oh, no, he hasn’t!” Trixie shouted. “I just thought of something else. Let’s divide into teams, as Jim said, but let’s keep the same teams for the next six days. And the team that collects the most wins a prize!”
    “What kind of prize?” Jim asked. “We can’t keep any of the proceeds from the auction for ourselves.“
    “Oh, no! I know that,” Trixie assured him. “But there must be something we could put up to make everyone work a little harder—and to make collecting more fun.”
    “Hmm,” Mart mused. “What if the reward for the most diligent team were not pecuniary but temporal?” he asked.
    Seeing that no one had entirely understood him, Mart hastened to