The Mystery on the Mississippi

Hannibal or any other place on the river, in a steamboat!”
    “Me, too. I’m so excited I’m about to explode!” Trixie took hold of Brian’s arm. “We’d better go break the news to Moms.”
    Trixie and Brian hurried down the hill to Crab-apple Farm, which sprawled in simple, cozy comfort in the valley of the Catskills. A white picket fence spread its arms to enclose Mrs. Belden’s rose beds, an apple orchard, and the kitchen garden. Mr. Belden worked at the bank in the village, Sleepyside-on-the-Hudson, and Mrs. Belden was... well, she was just “Moms” to Brian, Mart, Trixie, and little Bobby... oh, yes, and to Reddy, their Irish setter.
    On a rising slope above Crabapple Farm, the Wheeler home stood, surrounded by riding stables, a lake for swimming and skating, and a huge game preserve.
    Brian and Jim, seniors at Sleepyside Junior-Senior High, and Trixie, Honey, and Mart were the original members of the club, the Bob-Whites of the Glen. The old Wheeler gatehouse was their beloved clubhouse. The Bob-Whites had pitched in with muscle, paint, and plaster, and now the house was sturdy and weathertight and attractively decorated inside. When Diana Lynch, Trixie’s age, had moved into a big house near the Wheelers, seeming lonesome and lost, the Bob-Whites had invited her to join their club. Later on, Dan Mangan, the orphaned nephew of Regan, the Wheelers’ stableman, became the seventh member.
    The Bob-Whites were a close-knit, loyal group, who worked together on many worthwhile projects to gather funds for UNICEF, Red Cross, and local and national relief needs. All of these endeavors had a way of turning into fantastic, oftentimes downright dangerous, adventures.
    Trixie seemed to have a sixth sense that had often helped confused law officers to solve puzzling cases. When the Bob-Whites had been on vacation together, she and Honey had investigated mysteries on an Arizona dude ranch, an Iowa sheep farm, at a cabin in the Missouri Ozarks, in New York City, and even in their own small village of Sleepyside. With Honey, her valuable aide, Trixie expected someday to operate the Belden-Wheeler Detective Agency.
    Just as they worked faithfully together, the Bob-Whites enjoyed good times most when they were together, especially since wherever Trixie went, there was bound to be excitement. “Trixie draws crooks to her like a magnet,” Mart once said. “She can spot one quicker’n a bloodhound.” It was no wonder, then, that they were fascinated with the possibilities of the promised plane trip to St. Louis.
    They didn’t dream, though, as they packed for their journey, of the many dangers they would face before returning to their clubhouse at home.
    As it turned out, Dan was able to go along on the trip, for a substitute took over his work. Diana, vacationing with her family, was the only Bob-White missing as they checked in at the Vacation Inn near the Lambert-St. Louis airport.
    “I guess all the Bob-Whites had better get rooms close together,” Jim told his father as the registration clerk offered him a pen.
    “You’re right; you’d better stick together,” his father answered. He would take a room down the hall but would spend much of his time at the home of the airplane executive, Mr. Brandio. “No one can predict what Trixie will be up to. You and the other boys must keep an eye on her. Mr. Brandio is going to let you have a car, Jim. The city is about an hour’s drive from here. Trixie can’t get far away unless you drive her.”
    “Trixie doesn’t need to be watched, Daddy,” Honey told him. “Neither do I.”
    “Of course not. I was only fooling. No, I wasn’t fooling altogether. Trixie has been in some pretty dangerous situations. Let’s have this trip be only fun. Right, Trixie?” He smiled at her warmly.
    “I never hunt for cases,” Trixie insisted. “Can I help it if there are times when Honey and I just have to step in and help solve a mystery?”
    “I guess not,” Mr. Wheeler answered soberly. “I guess not. I can’t help it, either, Trixie, if I’m relieved to know that you will all be quartered near to one another. Have fun, now! The car is parked in the back parking lot, Jim. Here’s the key. I’ll be in touch with you.”
    Mart caught up the key and passed it on to Jim. “How do we get from here to Mr. Brandio’s factory, sir?”
    “What for?” Mr. Wheeler asked.
    “To see some of the space stuff. You know, one of the capsules that went to the moon...