The Secret of the Unseen Treasure

you’re right. Better get me home. Fast.”

“Something Spishy” • 3

    TRIXIE SUFFERED through her chores—dusting, getting Bobby washed up and into clean clothes, and helping prepare supper.
    The main topic of conversation during supper was the arson attempt at Mrs. Elliot’s. Peter Belden, Trixie’s father, listened indulgently as Trixie insisted, “Somebody is trying to put Mrs. Elliot out of business.”
    “I’m afraid you’re jumping to conclusions,” her father said. “Mrs. Elliot doesn’t make enough competition for anyone to need to ‘put her out of business.’ I’m inclined to think it’s just a case of malicious behavior. Some vandals seem to concentrate on making the elderly their victims. They probably figure that if their vandalism is discovered, their victims will be unable to retaliate.”
    Mrs. Belden frowned. “‘Retaliate’ isn’t the word you want. ‘Defend themselves’ is probably what you mean.”
    Trixie spoke up. “Retaliate! That’s it!”
    “Brainstorm coming!” Mart exclaimed loudly. “Everyone batten down the hatches!”
    “Mart,” Mrs. Belden chided, “we don’t shout at the table.”
    “Sorry,” Mart murmured. He glanced slyly at Trixie and took a bracing grip on the edge of the table. “Proceed,” he said.
    “I wasn’t talking to you anyway,” Trixie replied. She faced her father. “Suppose Mrs. Elliot saw who stole the Social Security checks from the mailboxes on the rural route. Maybe the attempt today was a warning to keep silent about what she knows.”
    “That doesn’t make sense,” Brian observed. “The checks were stolen more than a week ago. Today’s warning,’ if it was one, was kind of late.”
    “Maybe there was another warning earlier,” Trixie persisted. “One we don’t know about. Maybe Mrs. Elliot was changing her mind about keeping quiet, so the arson attempt was a second, stronger warning.”
    “I’ve known Ethel Elliot most of my life,” said Trixie’s mother. “If she saw something illegal, she’d report it.”
    “Well,” Trixie said slowly, “you know her better than I do. But there’s one thing she didn’t report. At least, from what I read in the paper, she didn’t report it.”
    “What’s that?” Mart asked. He wasn’t deriding Trixie now; his curiosity had obviously been aroused.
    “Mrs. Elliot didn’t report the theft of her Social Security check,” Trixie announced.
    Peter Belden shook his head. “There’s a very simple explanation for that: Her check wasn’t stolen. It’s not delivered to her roadside box.
    She has Social Security mail her check directly to the bank, where it’s credited to her checking account.”
    “Oh,” said Trixie, deflated.
    Peter Belden looked as though he shared her disappointment. “Of course, I wouldn’t know that if I didn’t work at the bank. But there you go again, Trixie, jumping to conclusions. If you and Honey were really involved someday with an investigative agency—”
    “The Belden-Wheeler Detective Agency,” Trixie interrupted.
    Her father nodded and went on. “If you were actually doing detective work, you would have to concentrate on facts, not assumptions.” He smiled. “Now it’s a fact that I would like another helping of beans, please.”
    After supper, Mart came into the kitchen, where Trixie was morosely taking her turn at washing the dishes.
    “I was as disappointed as you were about the supposedly stolen check,” he confessed. “I thought you were really getting onto something, until Dad stuck a pin in it.”
    Trixie nodded. “Here,” she said, extending a dish towel. “As long as you’re—”
    Mart quickly backed away from the towel. “My sympathy doesn’t extend that far!”
    “Oooooh!” Trixie chased him from the room and threw the towel after him.

    In the morning, Honey telephoned. “Jim and I are going swimming in the lake this afternoon. Care to join us?”
    “If I can,” Trixie replied. “I’ll have to find out first what Moms has planned. You know how it is.”
    “Yes, it’s the same with Miss Trask.” There was no resentment in Honey’s voice, but Trixie understood what she meant. Honey’s mother was nearly helpless about running the household, and she was constantly involved with social affairs or accompanying her husband on business trips. Miss Trask ran the Wheeler household.
    “Mother’s planning to leave for Washington with Daddy,” Honey went on. “And Miss Trask thinks I ought to stay