The Mystery of the Vanishing Victim

confide her theory.
    That was comforting. So was the fact that Mrs. Manning’s thoughts about the Greens’ neighbors confirmed Trixie’s own. “It’s all very mysterious, I must say,” Mrs. Manning had said.
    I must say so, too , Trixie thought.

A Visit With the Victim • 7

    FOR THE NEXT THREE HOURS, however, Trixie was too hard-worked to think of the mystery. She and Jim carried load after load from people’s houses to the station wagon. They made three trips back to the clubhouse to deposit the donations they’d collected.
    By ten o’clock, when the last stop was made, they were red-faced and exhausted. Jim was concerned. “This is getting out of hand,“” he said. “Our original plan for the rummage sale was just to put up some posters and wait for people to call us. Now we’re going door to door, and that means a lot more donations and a lot more pickups. I don’t know if we’re going to be able to handle it.”
    “But we can’t just abandon the rummage sale,” Trixie wailed.
    “I’m not suggesting that,” Jim told her. “I’m saying that we have to make some changes in our way of handling the rummage sale.”
    “What kind of changes?” Trixie asked.
    “For one thing, when we go door to door from now on, let’s at least ask people whether they’d be willing to drop their donations off. If they seem at all reluctant, we can volunteer to pick things up. We don’t want to discourage donations, after all. I think a lot of people would be willing to help out, though.”
    “That would save a lot of work, all right,” Trixie admitted. “Oh, but Jim, we can’t tell all those people where our clubhouse is! It’s supposed to be a secret!”
    Jim nodded. “I thought of that, too,” he said. “Actually, what I thought of is the fact that the clubhouse won’t begin to hold all the things we’re collecting. What about Mart’s entire houseful of furniture? The clubhouse won’t even hold a spare couch now, let alone all the things Di was listing this afternoon.”
    “Gleeps, I forgot about that, too. What are we going to do, Jim?” Trixie asked despairingly.
    “Tomorrow, we’ll start looking for another place to keep the donations,” Jim replied. “It should be someplace that’s conveniently located, big enough to store all the items we collect, and open enough hours so that donors can drop things off more or less at their convenience. Spread the word to Brian and Mart when you get home. Tell your parents, too. The more people we have trying to think of a place, the better our chances are of coming up with something. We need a good idea, but fast!”
    “I’ll alert my family,” Trixie promised, stifling a yawn. “Anyway, we only have one more load to unload tonight.”
    “Correction,” Jim said firmly. “We have no more loads to unload tonight. I’m about to drop, and you look as though you are, too. It won’t hurt these things to stay locked in the car overnight. Besides, if we’re going to find a new place to store our donations tomorrow, it would be silly to move them into the clubhouse tonight.”
    “Sounds good to me,” Trixie told him gratefully. “Even if it weren’t a perfectly perfect idea, as Honey would say, I’m much too tired to argue.”
    When Jim pulled into the driveway of Crabapple Farm, Trixie barely had the strength to open the car door, wave goodnight to Jim, and stagger directly to bed.

    At eight o’clock the next morning, Mrs. Belden knocked on the door to Trixie’s room and called, “Better get up. You’re due at the hospital in less than an hour.”
    Trixie sat up in bed and raised her arms over her head, then halted in midstretch as her stiff muscles complained. She groaned and dropped back against the pillows, remembering the umpteen trips from people’s basements to the Bob-White wagon she’d made the night before.
    “At least, there’s no chance of forgetting to tell my family that we need a new plan for collecting donations,” Trixie told herself. “Every movement I make all day will remind me of it.”
    She pulled herself out of bed, dressed slowly, and went downstairs to breakfast.
    “Good morning, Trixie,” Brian said, looking up from his bacon and eggs as his sister slid into her place at the table. “How did everything go last night?”
    Trixie related the events of the previous evening and told her family about Jim’s directive regarding the collection plan.
    “Do you think people could take their things directly