The Mystery of the Vanishing Victim

explain. “Let us say that the winning team will earn five hours’ time from the team that comes in last—time to be spent in whatever travail the winners designate,” Mart said.
    “I like that idea,” Jim said. “That way, the prize is from the Bob-Whites to the Bob-Whites.”
    “I also can’t think of anything that would make me work as hard as the fear of being Mart’s slave for five hours,” Trixie added, wrinkling her nose.
    “Uh-oh. I just thought of a problem. How do we divide seven Bob-Whites into equal teams?” Jim asked.
    “Oh, woe!” Trixie moaned. “Math always ruins everything.”
    “Just your report card,” Brian teased. “I have an easy solution to this math problem. For the next five days, there are really eight Bob-Whites—if we count our friendly Model A. It and I will be a team. The attention I collect by driving through my districts in an antique car should more than offset the problems of working alone.”
    “Honey and I are the second team,” Trixie said.
    “I believe that my efforts would be most enhanced by the cooperation of the pulchritudinous Ms. Lynch,” Mart said.
    “That means that Dan and I will be partners,” Jim said. “That’s fine with me.”
    “Let’s get started!” Trixie said enthusiastically.
    “Mart, call Di. Jim, go tell Dan. I’ll go fill Honey in on the plan, and we’ll all meet back here after lunch.”
    “Should we assign districts now?” Jim asked.
    Trixie’s eyes lit up. “Yes, we should pick our districts right now,” she said. She leaned over the map, scanning it for a minute. “There,” she said, tapping her forefinger on the map. “That’s the district Honey and I choose.” She turned and hurried upstairs before any of the others could quiz her about her choice. With any luck at all, nobody would notice that her district contained most of Glenwood Avenue.

    Honey, Di, and Dan had been just as enthusiastic as their friends when they were told about the contest to see which team raised the most donations. Honey was excited, too, about the chance to do some sleuthing while they made their rounds.
    None of the others said anything about the fact that Trixie and Honey’s district included Glenwood Avenue—until the girls climbed out of the station wagon to begin canvassing.
    “Good luck,” Jim said then. “And remember, there’re five hours of hard labor at stake here. Don’t get so caught up in trying to figure out where the stranger was going last night that you forget our primary reason for being here.”
    Trixie stamped her feet impatiently. “You knew all along,” she said.
    “I figured it out even before you pointed at this district on the map. I could tell from the way your eyes lit up that you were on the trail of a mystery. But I know better than to try to keep Belden and Wheeler from ‘detective-izing.’ So, as I said, good luck. But don’t lose sight of our real reason for being out here today.”
    “We won’t,” Honey assured him. “We won’t forget that the hospital is counting on us to raise lots of money with our rummage sale. And we sure won’t forget the consequences if our team loses!”
    “I can’t ask for anything more,” Jim said with a grin, “except that you be waiting here when I come back for you at five o’clock.”
    The girls nodded their agreement and waved goodbye to Jim and Dan, who were the last two Bob-Whites to head for their district.
    “Time’s a-wasting,” Trixie said as she headed for the nearest house. “Brian left in the Model A at the same time we started out in the station wagon, so he’s probably already got the attention of half the people in his district. And since Mart and Di were dropped off before we were, they’ve probably finished at least one house already.”
    Honey giggled at Trixie’s worried calculations. “We have six whole days to make collections, Trix,” she said. “I don’t think we’re in too much danger of losing the contest in the first six minutes!”
    Trixie grinned sheepishly, but she put a resolute finger to the doorbell without saying anything more.
    The girls heard the bell reverberating through the house, and a few seconds later they heard footsteps approaching on the other side of the door.
    “Yes?” A middle-aged woman with neatly combed gray hair spoke to them through the screen door.
    “Hi,” Trixie said. “My name is Trixie Belden, and this is my friend Honey Wheeler. We’re two of the sponsors of the rummage sale