The Mystery off Old Telegraph Road

realized that he did not consider her a serious customer. And he’s probably right, she thought. There’s not much money in the Bob-White treasury right now, in spite of all Mali’s and my fines.
    “Can I help you?” he asked, his tone more polite than hopeful.
    “I’m not sure,” Trixie confessed. “I just happened to be passing by your window, and it occurred to me that it might be nice to buy some trophies or ribbons for an event that I’m helping to organize. Are they very expensive?”
    The man frowned slightly, and his already stooped shoulders sagged a little more. He looked sad and overworked, and Trixie could imagine the feeling of anticipation he’d had when he’d heard the door open and the hopelessness that had taken its place when he’d walked out here to find only a fourteen-year-old girl with sandy hair and freckles, wanting to buy some inexpensive ribbons.
    “That depends on what you mean by expensive,” the man replied. He walked over to a glass display case in a far corner of the room and pulled out a plain ribbon with the words “First Place” printed on it. “This is the least expensive award I have. It has a card on the back where you can write the date, the name of your organization, and the reason for the award. We carry ribbons for first through fourth place, and they’re fifty cents apiece.” Trixie listened carefully, nodding. She started to calculate how much it would cost for four ribbons, and how much that would leave in the Bob-White treasury. Suddenly it struck her that something about the man behind the counter looked very familiar. She looked at him carefully, then snapped her fingers as the name came to her. “Nick Roberts!” she exclaimed.
    The man looked perplexed. “That’s my name, yes. Do I know you from somewhere?”
    Trixie flushed. “That’s right, I’d forgotten. Nick Roberts would be your name, too. But it’s your son that I know—Nicholas William Roberts the third. My name is Trixie Belden, Mr. Roberts. Nick and I are in school together. In fact, it’s partly because of Nick that I’m helping to organize the event that I told you about. It’s a bikeathon to help raise money for the art department.”
    Trixie thought she saw the man’s face tighten, but she continued. “Fifty cents apiece seems very reasonable to me. I’d like to buy four of them—one each of first through fourth place. I’ll have to come back tomorrow, though, because I don’t have that much money with—”
    “I’m sorry,” the man interrupted in a harsh voice. “I should have explained. I don’t sell ribbons in such small quantities. A minimum order is a dozen of each.” His voice was controlled, but Trixie noticed that his eyes were lowered, as though he didn’t want to look at her.
    “But surely—” Trixie began.
    “I’m sorry,” Mr. Roberts repeated. “Selling one ribbon at a time makes it too hard to keep track of our inventory. The small amount of money I’d make would not be worth the extra work.” He put the ribbon back in the case. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some work to do in the back room.” He turned on his heel and walked away.
    Trixie stared after him. She couldn’t feel angry, because the man hadn’t really been impolite. His reasons seemed to make sense. The tiny shop was spotlessly clean, but the worn carpet on the floor and the peeling paint said clearly that hard work went into every penny that was earned here.
    Still, Trixie thought, the bikeathon is meant to help his son. You’d think that he’d at least let me buy the ribbons if I’m willing to pay for them.
    Like father, like son. The old expression ran through Trixie’s mind, and she had to admit to herself that it had never seemed truer than when applied to Mr. Roberts and Nick. Neither one of them likes the bikeathon idea one little bit , Trixie thought. She wondered what Nick had told his father to make him so opposed to it.
    Leaving the shop, Trixie was struck by another thought. I wonder if it’s just the opposite. I wonder if Mr. Roberts told Nick something that turned him against the bikeathon.
    Noticing the time on the bank clock, Trixie realized that Brian was probably already waiting at the car. She walked quickly back down the street. Me and my bright ideas, she thought. This walk was supposed to take my mind of my thoughts. All it did was give me even more to think about.

Sinister Warnings • 13

    TRIXIE WAS GLAD for the chance to be busy after