The Mystery of the Vanishing Victim

he’s inside, I’ll have plenty of time to get away, even if he does manage to convince the police that I robbed him— which he won’t!”
    Memorial Park was now in sight, but Henry Meiser had sagged against another fence.
    “What if he can’t make it to the police station?” Trixie asked in concern.
    Andy Kowalski shrugged. “If he collapses, somebody’ll find him and call the police. It all amounts to the same thing. I’ll just have a little more time to get away, that’s all.”
    “Haven’t you forgotten about us?” Honey demanded. “As soon as you let us go, we’ll call the police.”
    Andy Kowalski threw back his head and laughed, slapping his thigh to show how much her remark amused him. “That’s right; I forgot you girls could talk. You’ve been so quiet all the while.” His laughter ceased abruptly, and he turned to look at the girls. His eyes glittered, as cold as ice. “I guess I’ll have to be sure that doesn’t happen, won’t I?”
    Trixie felt frightened, but angry tears welled in her eyes. How stupid she’d been to think Henry Meiser was the one they had to worry about! This evil man had never intended to let them go at all! For a moment, she found herself half-wishing that Mr. Meiser’s precious invention wasn’t in the brown paper bag. It would be foolish for him to give it up in vain.
    Trixie realized quickly that it was just as foolish to waste time making wishes. She had to do something —but what?
    She found herself wondering what time it was. Brian had only given the girls an hour. Surely that much time had elapsed since he’d dropped them off. At first, Trixie knew, he’d wait patiently for them. How long would it take before he became alarmed?
    And what good would it do if Brian knew they were missing? He wouldn’t know where to start looking for them.
    Jim would, though! Trixie’s heart leaped at the thought. Jim had known about Trixie’s interest in the house on Glenwood Avenue. That would be the very first place he’d go if he knew that the girls had disappeared.
    Trixie tried to think through what would happen next. Probably nothing, she realized with a sinking heart. Eileen would not open the door to anyone until she heard from Henry Meiser. If the boys went to the house, they’d conclude that it was empty, then give up and go home.
    She and Honey had no hope of help from the outside, Trixie admitted to herself. They would have to help themselves.
    Poor Honey! Trixie looked at the huddled figure next to her. “I’m sorry I got you into this mess,” she whispered to her best friend.
    “Let’s just get out of it,” Honey whispered back. Her tone was neither angry nor frightened. Instead, it was filled with a grim determination. Honey was more timid than Trixie about plunging into mysteries, but she was far from spineless in the face of trouble.
    “We’ll think of something,” Trixie promised.
    She looked up as she felt the van slow down again. They were at the edge of Memorial Park, she realized with a jolt.
    Henry Meiser was crossing the street directly in front of the van. But the van might have been invisible, for all Meiser seemed to notice. He continued to stare straight ahead.
    Trixie bit her lower lip as she saw the inventor’s face in the glare of the van’s headlights. It was as white as chalk. The man looked twenty years older than he had the night he’d stopped to help the Bob-Whites with their stalled car.
    Trixie tried to imagine the torment he was going through. The physical pain from his broken ribs and concussion would be bad enough. But added to it was the emotional burden of giving up his precious invention—or, she forced herself to add, of betraying the two girls who were being held captive by a man whose treachery he knew all too well.
    Trixie followed Meiser’s tortured journey with her eyes. Goosebumps rose once again on her arms when she saw the trash can that Meiser was walking toward. Honey’s gasp told Trixie that her friend, too, had spotted the drop-off point.
    Meiser showed no signs of hesitation as he walked to the trash can, shoved the bag inside, turned, and started back down the sidewalk.
    Andy Kowalski reached into the front of his shirt and drew out a gun. He turned and pointed it first at Trixie and then at Honey. “I thought I’d be able to trust one of you girls to play retriever for me,” he said. “But you got too smart. You’ve already figured out you’d have nothing to lose by running away. So