The Mystery of the Vanishing Victim

asked.
    “I don’t know,” Trixie admitted. “But it’s the only way I can think of to get some proof that that woman is connected with Henry Meiser. Once we have proof, we’ll go to the police. I promise.”
    Honey sighed. “There’s no point in arguing. Your mind is made up. Let’s go.”

    Half an hour later, the two girls were biking slowly along Glenwood Avenue, trying to look as though they were out for a leisurely ride. Only Trixie’s glowing face showed how fast they had pedaled to get there.
    “Look,” Trixie whispered. “There are two kids playing hopscotch in front of the house. And one of them is the little girl we saw the other day.”
    Trixie stopped her bike in front of the house, holding herself upright with a foot against the curb. “Hi!” she called. “It’s a nice day for hopscotch.”
    The little girl paused, wobbling on one foot. She bent to pick up her stone and hopped to the end of the pattern chalked on the walk. “It’s nice to be outside,” she said, walking over to Trixie and Honey.
    “That’s right. You weren’t supposed to play outside,” Trixie prompted.
    “That was before,” the little girl said. “We always played outside until we moved here. Then we couldn’t for a while, and now we can again!”
    “I’m glad,” Trixie said. “It’s no fun to be in the house all the time.”
    The little girl shook her head solemnly. “It sure isn’t. It seemed like months and months before we got to go out.”
    “Were you sick?” Trixie asked. “Is that why you couldn’t go out?”
    “I told you I wasn’t,” the little girl said. “It kind of seemed like Mommy was, though. She cried all the time. Except sometimes she yelled. She doesn’t usually yell. She’s happier now, though, ever since Uncle Hank came to visit.”
    Trixie felt a sudden chill as the little girl’s words registered on her mind. Uncle Hank was here for a visit—and Hank was a nickname for Henry!
    “How long ago did Uncle Hank get here?” Trixie asked, trying to sound casual.
    “Oh, just—” The little girl’s reply was interrupted by her mother.
    “Melissa, you get in here this minute! Can’t I trust you at all? Come on! Davey, you, too!” the woman shrieked.
    “Oh-oh. Mommy’s mad again. I gotta go.” The little girl turned and ran back toward the house, pushing her little brother ahead of her.
    Trixie and Honey stared at the two children as they ran into the house. “Well,” Trixie said, “there’s our connection.”

Held Hostage! • 10

    HONEY WAS THE FIRST to rouse herself and start pedaling slowly down Glenwood Avenue once more. Trixie remained, staring at the house for a moment. Then she began to follow her friend.
    “I guess it’s time to go to Sergeant Molinson, isn’t it?” Honey asked softly. She waited for Trixie’s reply, and when none came, she repeated more loudly, “Isn’t it?”
    “I don’t know,” Trixie said slowly.
    “Trixie!” Honey’s voice was raised in exasperation. “You said before that we couldn’t tell the sergeant about the woman in the house because there was no real proof of a connection between her and Henry Meiser. ‘Uncle Hank’ is the proof of a connection. What possible reason can you have for wanting to wait any longer?”
    “The reason I want to wait longer is that I think I’ve waited too long already,” Trixie said.
    “That makes no sense at all,” Honey told her. “You’d think it makes sense if you’d seen Sergeant Molinson’s face turning as purple as a plum this morning when he found out I’d told Mr. Meiser about the fingerprint check,” Trixie said miserably.
    “It seems to me that’s all the more reason for going to him right now and telling him about this house,” Honey said. “He’ll stop being angry as soon as he has Henry Meiser back in custody.”
    “And he’ll start being angry again when he finds out we’ve known that there was something strange going on in that house for the past few days and didn’t say anything,” Trixie retorted.
    Honey thought about that for a moment. “You’re right. He’ll tell us we should have let him do the deciding about what’s suspicious and what isn’t, instead of taking it on ourselves,” she said finally.
    “He said this morning that he wished he could charge me with something,” Trixie said. “When he finds out about this, he’ll probably start leafing through the law books for something that carries a life sentence.”
    Honey giggled at