The Pet Show Mystery

moving away. “Trixie’s awake! You’re awake, aren’t you, Trixie?”
    Trixie squeezed her eyes shut against the noise. ‘Tm awake.”
    “I was just waiting for you to wake up because I wanted to tell you thanks for finding Reddy,” Bobby said.
    “Actually, it’s Trixie who should thank Reddy for finding her,” Brian Belden said from the doorway.
    Trixie looked up at her brother just as Mart joined him. “What happened?” she asked.
    “Well, first of all,” Brian said, coming into the room and sitting down, “Jim was suspicious about that little errand of yours. Something you said about a foundation struck him funny. He suggested we stop by the foundation office on the way home. When we got there, the lights were on, but the door was locked.”
    “Paul Gale’s assistant must have locked up so she could follow us and pick him up after he got out of the truck,” Trixie said.
    “Probably,” Brian agreed. “We didn’t know that, though, so we were about to give up and take off. That’s when Reddy came to the rescue. He got away from us and ran into that alley between the buildings. We chased him to the back of the alley, just in time to see Paul Gale’s green pickup truck and the maroon sedan the assistant was driving as they pulled away.
    “We didn’t think much about the vehicles at the time, in spite of the fuss Reddy was making. But when we got back to the sidewalk, Mr. Llewelyn was there. He’d gotten nervous when he saw that the front door was locked.
    “We exchanged information. Mr. Llewelyn told us about the microphone. He’d heard Paul Gale ask you to take off your coats, so he didn’t expect to pick up any conversation. He’d decided to give you some time before going in after you. Then we figured out that you girls were in the camper.”
    “It took you long enough to find us,” Trixie said, still a little shaken.
    “It would have been a whole lot longer without a good description of the vehicle,” Brian said. “That was a close call, Trix.”
    Trixie shuddered. “Are Honey and Norma okay?”
    “They’re fine,” Brian assured her.
    Suddenly drowsy again, Trixie smiled as she drifted back to sleep. “Just think,” she murmured, “it was Reddy to the rescue.”

    By Saturday morning, Trixie was fully recovered. As the Beldens gathered for an early breakfast, it was Mart who seemed to be under the weather.
    “I was up until midnight last night, inputting the last of the data. Now I have to bolt my breakfast and return to the computer room to run the program. After that, no more programs for me!”
    “I thought computerizing the categories was going to be a big labor-saver,” Trixie reminded him.
    “It was,” Mart said. “Unfortunately, though, the labor that was saved was yours; the labor that was expended was exclusively my own.”
    “By the way,” said Brian, “is there any news about Paul Gale?”
    Trixie frowned. “No. I’ve left messages for David Llewelyn every day, but he hasn’t returned them. I hope Paul Gale doesn’t get away to start some other con game in another town.”
    “An awful thought,” Mart said. “Speaking of getaways, Brian and I must make one. Are you ready, my faithful charioteer?”
    “Ready,” Brian mumbled through his last mouthful of pancakes. “I’ll sure be glad when you get a senior driver’s license!”
    “See you at the show,” Trixie said. “I can hardly wait to see the categories.”
    Less than two hours later, all of the show volunteers but Mart were in the gym. The judging table was set up in the center of the room. Other tables were lined up against the walls, ready for cages and carriers.
    “Now all we need are the pets,” Trixie said, surveying their work with satisfaction.
    “Which pets are those?” Mart asked, striding across the room, holding a sheaf of computer paper. “The heaviest pet—Clancy the sheepdog at ninety-one pounds? The lightest pet—Percy the parakeet at two ounces? The most intelligent pet—Samantha the Siamese cat?”
    “Yay! The program worked!” Trixie said.
    “Naturally,” Mart said proudly.
    “What other categories are there?” Di asked as she crowded around, along with the other Bob-Whites.
    Mart turned the printout paper around so that he could read it. “Oldest. Youngest. Most unusual—that’s a cockatiel. Longest ears—”
    “A rabbit?” Trixie guessed.
    “A basset hound,” Mart corrected. “I had to give the rabbit ‘shortest tail’ to make up for