The Pet Show Mystery

emeralds—which he smuggles back into this country and sells for a fortune.”
    Trixie realized that her mouth had fallen open as she listened. She closed it and swallowed hard to moisten her dry throat.
    “You can see why I was reluctant to tell you all this. I would be in serious trouble if you told anyone else. Worse, the entire investigation could be in jeopardy if word got out that Paul Gale is under suspicion. But I think it’s important for you to know what kind of man we think Paul Gale is.”
    “But if he’s capable of taking money away from the poor, why are you so sure he wouldn’t sabotage our pet show?” Honey asked.
    “For that very reason,” David Llewelyn said. “The stakes that Paul Gale is playing with are huge. Literally millions of dollars by now, I’d say. He wouldn’t risk that for a smalltime pet show. No offense,” he added quickly.
    “Would he risk attacking the show publicly?” Trixie asked.
    David Llewelyn waved a dismissing hand.
    “There’s no risk in that. Paul Gale has built the foundation on his image as an angry young man. That’s what attracts people to him. Oddly enough, it’s what makes people trust him. They like his zeal, and his willingness to speak up for what he believes—no matter what people might think of him for it. He’s convinced his followers that he cares nothing for himself, but only for the poor.
    “Attacking your pet show publicly—with words—would strengthen that image. It might be just the kind of thing he’d need to get himself established here in Sleepyside.”
    “But attacking the pet show with acts of sabotage could get him in trouble,” Trixie concluded.
    “Exactly. At the least, it might discourage his followers if he were caught harassing a group of teenagers. At most, it might bring him to the attention of the law. And I don’t think he can afford that. Anyone who comes between Paul Gale and his millions will not have a pleasant fate awaiting him. I guarantee it.”
    There was such heaviness in David Llewelyn’s usually pleasant voice that Trixie felt a shiver run up her spine. “It sounds as though we’d better stay away from Paul Gale,” she said softly.
    “I’m glad I made my point,” David Llewelyn said, relieved. “It was well worth the cost of two cups of hot chocolate.” He picked up the check the waitress had left on the table. “Now I’d best get back to work, and you’d best get back home.”
    Trixie nodded and slid out of the booth. “The thing is, we still don’t know who’s sabotaging our pet show.”
    The investigator hesitated on his way to the cashier. “That’s right, you don’t. Well, if there are any more problems, just call me at the Sleepyside Inn. We can get together and talk about the case.”
    “Really? Do you really mean it?” Trixie asked. Remembering all the times that Sergeant Molinson of the Sleepyside police department had shooed her away, the idea that a real investigator would discuss a case with her seemed almost too good to be true.
    “Really,” David Llewelyn promised. “After all, I took away your best suspect. The least I can do is help you find another one. But I sincerely hope that you won’t encounter any more problems with your show.”



10 * A Last-Minute Entry

    THERE WAS another pet show problem the very next day, however.
    It was late Saturday afternoon, and Trixie had come home after the sign-up at the mall. She was in her room, studying world history. There was a soft knock at her door, followed by a loud thump. The combination of sounds was one Trixie had heard many times before. She sat up on her bed and groaned. “You can come in, Bobby,” she said loudly. “Reddy has to wait outside.”
    “Okay,” Bobby Belden shouted. Then, in a softer voice, he added, “You wait here, Reddy. No, wait here. Wait! Reddy!” His young voice was becoming more and more impatient as he spoke. Soon it was drowned out by a series of thumps, yelps, and barks.
    Trixie groaned again. “Oh, all right. Reddy can come in, too.”
    Immediately, the door burst open. Reddy bounded into the room, his head held high, his tongue lolling out of his mouth. Bobby followed his dog, seeming more restrained only because he was on two legs instead of four. Eventually the dog’s excitement at being invited into Trixie’s room began to wane, and he sat down next to Bobby, who was perched on Trixie’s desk chair.
    “Now,” Trixie said, “to what do I owe this unexpected