Chapter Eleven International Relations
Rated Blue Star for all ages. Some mild violence
Trixie was surprised to discover that she was able to concentrate at school the following day. Luckily for her, classes kept both her mind and her hands busy, leaving little time to worry about the doll. They had a brief Bob-White meeting at lunchtime, talking in whispers and eventually agreeing to take a vote on what to do that evening.
Honey needed to go to the library, so Trixie volunteered to go with her. Jim would come into town for them in the station wagon, leaving the others to take the bus home.
“I’d probably try to vacuum the dishes or something, if I went home now,” Trixie sighed, kicking a stone in her path. “Honestly, Honey, sometimes, I think you’re all right about me. I’m always dragging everyone into something.”
“That’s not true!” Honey protested. “Or at least if you do drag us in, we’re usually willing, or partly willing, well, I’m willing a lot of the time, anyway and the others eventually realize that….” She trailed off, seeing Trixie’s expression. “Fine, but you know what I mean. This dragging is as much me as you. We are partners, after all.”
“Well, I appreciate you sharing the blame, Hon. Now, if I can just get you to share the credit next time we have a success. If there’s a next time.”
“On that cheerful note, I’ll go and get what I need. Please don’t find a new mystery while I’m gone.”
It didn’t take Honey long to check out the book she wanted and she and Trixie decided to take a stroll around the common while waiting for Jim. The November evening was already darkening, and shadows played upon the common grounds.
“Hi, Hoppy,” Honey said, looking up and waving at the big metal grasshopper that sat atop the Sleepyside Town Hall.
“We could do with some Hoppy luck, couldn’t we?” Trixie observed. “What do you think the others will vote to do?”
“I’m not even sure how I want to vote,” Honey admitted. “Last night I alternated between hiding my head under the covers and wanting to run and tell my dad what a mess we were in.”
Trixie laughed. “Me, too. Though I was going to confess to Moms.”
“I really am sorry, Trixie. I should have realized it was silly to pick up something for someone from another country. I’ve travelled so much more than you have. And I’d never take a package from someone at an airport. It was really dumb.”
“Hey!” Trixie gave her friend’s arm a gentle poke. “I am just as dumb as you, thanks very much. Remember—partners.”
It was Honey’s turn to laugh now. “Maybe we could toss for it or have a spell-off.”
Trixie did not reply but grabbed Honey’s arm and began to pull her along.
“What? What is it?” Honey cried, trying to keep up.
“The redheaded man. He’s following us.” Trixie ran towards a grove of trees, dragging her friend behind her.
“No, he can’t be,” Honey gasped, trying to look back.
“He is, he’s right over…” Trixie ducked behind a large tree and peered around its trunk. “He’s gone. Honey, I swear he was following us. Honestly. I wasn’t imagining it.”
“I believe you,” Honey said in a small, squeaky voice.
Trixie turned to her friend and her blue eyes widened. There he stood, tall and still shabby in his trench coat and crumpled suit. And Honey was right, there was a button missing from the cuff.
“Bonjour, mademoiselles,” the man was unmistakably French. “Perhaps I can have a moment of your time.”
Trixie considered running, but the man stood between her and Honey and she imagined it would be easy enough for him to grab her best friend.
“We don’t have long,” she said, doing her best to sound calm and firm. “A friend is picking us up and he’ll be here any minute.”
“I am Inspector Marcel Patou from the Sûreté in Paris. And you are wanted for questioning in connection with a counterfeiting ring.” He pulled an old leather wallet from his pocket and flipped it open to reveal identification.
Trixie and Honey both studied it and exchanged glances. From what Trixie could tell, it seemed real enough.
“I witnessed your collection of the parcel from Emile Faurier, a man who has been of interest to the Sûreté for some time. We knew he was working with others outside of France, but his exported goods passed all examination, so we realized he was using an alternate means to move his plates.” He watched them for a moment, then nodded his head. “I can see you know of what I speak.”
“Yes, no, well sort of,” Honey stammered. “But we haven’t done anything wrong. At least not deliberately.”
The Inspector raised his brows. “That is your claim? Two young women travelling on a fancy Learjet alone?”
“It’s not a claim,” Honey returned swiftly. “And we weren’t alone. The plane belongs to my father.”
“Ah, so he is the one behind it and you are just—what do you Americans say—his patsy?”
“He is not behind anything. How dare you!” Honey cried, incensed.
“Inspector?” Trixie hoped she sounded calmer than she felt. “We can explain. We picked up the doll for a man who has an antique store here in Sleepyside. He found out we were going to Paris for the weekend and asked us to do it as a favor.”
“Which was wrong. We know that now,” Honey added. “But we didn’t realize. I didn’t realize. It’s my fault, really. But my dad knows nothing about it.”
“We think Mr. Reid, he’s the one who owns the store, is the crook,” Trixie put in for good measure.
The Frenchman studied them carefully before responding. “Are you telling me that you have given the doll to this man Reid?”
“Yes.” Trixie said.
“No.” Honey said.
The Inspector raised his brows again.
“We did give it to him,” Trixie explained. “But a dog stole it and gave it to my little brother.”
“A dog?” Inspector Patou frowned in confusion. “And your little brother has it now?”
“No.” Trixie and Honey said together.
“You know, mademoiselles. I think, perhaps, it is time you told me exactly where the doll is now.”
“And I think it’s time you told us exactly who you are!”
All three turned and Trixie and Honey both ran towards the speaker.
Jim, flanked by Brian, stood a few feet away.
“That’s Inspector Patou,” Trixie said, stopping beside Jim.
“From the Sûreté,” Honey added with a relieved sigh as she joined her friends.
The Inspector produced his identification again. Brian took it from the man, studied it for a moment, nodded his dark head and handed it back.
“Maybe we should go to Wimpy’s,” Jim suggested. “It would be easier to talk there.”
“Good idea,” Brian seconded, slipping an arm around Honey’s shoulders.
“It’s this way.” Jim nodded in the Inspector’s direction. Taking Trixie’s hand in his, they set off across the common.
They made their way to the old-fashioned diner and the five of them took a booth in the corner and ordered drinks.
“This is a very serious matter you have involved yourselves in,” Inspector Patou said, eying his coffee suspiciously.
“Trust me, we realise that,” Brian said.
“And we didn’t mean to get involved,” Honey added. “And we don’t want to be involved. You can just take that old doll away.”
Trixie opened her mouth to protest, but the Inspector spoke first. “I am not sure that would be for the best,” he said. “This man, he believes you have the doll, yes?”
“Yes,” Trixie said.
“I am concerned for your safety, should I take the doll. And also, I would not be able to connect him to the ring.”
“Making charging him virtually impossible,” Jim noted.
“Oui.”
“So maybe we can work together,” Trixie suggested eagerly, ignoring the imploring look Honey threw her.
“Or maybe we can call Sergeant Molinson,” Brian said.
“Your police, yes?”
“Yes. He’s sort of a friend of ours.” Honey looked from one Bob-White to the other. “Well, maybe friend isn’t exactly right.”
Trixie could think of far better words to describe the Sleepyside policeman. She shot a glance at the silent Frenchman, noting the lines that ran between his brows.
“Do you think we should go to our police?” she asked.
“It might be, how do you say? Awkward.”
“Awkward?” Brian repeated.
The inspector twisted his coffee cup in its saucer. “My visit here is not…official.”
For the first time, Trixie warmed to the man.
“How not official?” Jim asked.
The older man shrugged. “If I can bring these counterfeiters to justice, I am sure it will be very official.”
Trixie couldn’t help but laugh, Honey giggled and even the boys smiled.
“That sounds just like Honey and me,” Trixie admitted.
“It is eerily familiar,” Brian confirmed drily.
“The plates should not have left France,” Inspector Patou said.
“We really are sorry about that,” Honey said.
“It was my responsibility, and now I must fix it.” The Frenchman frowned and lifted his hand to his heart as he spoke.
“Which you’d prefer to do without involving local law enforcement?” Brian said, after exchanging a knowing look with Jim.
“Oui. But I am not sure exactly how to proceed.”
“We made this mess,” Honey said swiftly. “We should try and help.”
Trixie nodded vigorously.
Inspector Patou’s frown deepened. “I cannot endanger you young people.”
“But we won’t be in any danger,” Trixie said, ignoring the looks on Jim’s and Brian’s faces. “Not with you in charge.”
“It is too great a risk. I must do this alone,” said the Inspector, though he sounded less certain now.
“But that means you might be in danger.” Honey’s hazel eyes clouded.
“Worse,” Trixie put in. “He might get away with it. You’re only one person.”
A faint smile stretched the Inspector’s mouth. “Perhaps, you are correct.”
“Then let us help.”
As Trixie spoke, Jim shifted uneasily in his seat.
“I confess your assistance might be of necessity.” The Inspector admitted reluctantly.
“Somehow, that happens more often than a person might think,” Jim said drily.
“So, what we need is a plan.” Trixie leaned across the table eagerly.
“What I need is an aspirin.” Brian shook his dark head resignedly. “Okay, let’s hear it, Trix. But the Inspector has the final say, right?”
Trixie nodded and began to outline her idea.
Another emergency meeting was called and after dinner the group gathered again in the clubhouse.
“My folks are starting to wonder what’s up with all these meetings” Diana said, as she slid into her chair and pulled her knitted hat down to cover the tips of her ears.
“Ours just said don’t be too late,” Mart observed. “So, let’s get on with it.”
Trixie, with occasional help from Honey, brought the others up to date on the latest happenings.
“So, we’re going to drop the doll off outside of the Antique Barn and then skedaddle, leaving the Inspector to deal with Reid,” she concluded, the slight scowl on her face clearly indicating how she felt about that particular part of the plan.
“It’s for the best, Trix,” Jim said. “Reid could be dangerous.”
“And there’s safety in numbers,” Trixie returned. It was the argument she’d used to try and convince the Frenchman to let them go with him, but he’d been adamant they stay out of harm’s way.
“We’ll be there, at a safe distance,” Brian added. “So we can get help, if necessary.”
“How will we know if there’s a problem if we have to stay way back?” Trixie demanded.
“Hopefully, there won’t be,” Dan said. “But if we split into two groups, one out back and the other out front, we should be able to see if anything goes wrong. And then, regardless of what your friend says, we contact Molinson.”
“So, when are we meeting this inspector?” Di asked, violet eyes concerned.
“Soon. We should get going,” Brian said, consulting his watch.
“I have the doll.” Trixie held up a paper carry bag.
“Okay, so let’s get on with it, gang.” Jim looked from one Bob-White to the next and the group left the clubhouse and headed to Glen Road.
Author's notes: Thanks again to Deanna and to Vivian. In spite of their busy schedules, they always made time- true Bob-Whites. And the cool graphics? The superb MaryN, of course. Trixie Belden et al belong to Random House and not to me. NO profit is being made from these scribblings.
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Trixie was surprised to discover that she was able to concentrate at school the following day. Luckily for her, classes kept both her mind and her hands busy, leaving little time to worry about the doll. They had a brief Bob-White meeting at lunchtime, talking in whispers and eventually agreeing to take a vote on what to do that evening.
Honey needed to go to the library, so Trixie volunteered to go with her. Jim would come into town for them in the station wagon, leaving the others to take the bus home.
“I’d probably try to vacuum the dishes or something, if I went home now,” Trixie sighed, kicking a stone in her path. “Honestly, Honey, sometimes, I think you’re all right about me. I’m always dragging everyone into something.”
“That’s not true!” Honey protested. “Or at least if you do drag us in, we’re usually willing, or partly willing, well, I’m willing a lot of the time, anyway and the others eventually realize that….” She trailed off, seeing Trixie’s expression. “Fine, but you know what I mean. This dragging is as much me as you. We are partners, after all.”
“Well, I appreciate you sharing the blame, Hon. Now, if I can just get you to share the credit next time we have a success. If there’s a next time.”
“On that cheerful note, I’ll go and get what I need. Please don’t find a new mystery while I’m gone.”
It didn’t take Honey long to check out the book she wanted and she and Trixie decided to take a stroll around the common while waiting for Jim. The November evening was already darkening, and shadows played upon the common grounds.
“Hi, Hoppy,” Honey said, looking up and waving at the big metal grasshopper that sat atop the Sleepyside Town Hall.
“We could do with some Hoppy luck, couldn’t we?” Trixie observed. “What do you think the others will vote to do?”
“I’m not even sure how I want to vote,” Honey admitted. “Last night I alternated between hiding my head under the covers and wanting to run and tell my dad what a mess we were in.”
Trixie laughed. “Me, too. Though I was going to confess to Moms.”
“I really am sorry, Trixie. I should have realized it was silly to pick up something for someone from another country. I’ve travelled so much more than you have. And I’d never take a package from someone at an airport. It was really dumb.”
“Hey!” Trixie gave her friend’s arm a gentle poke. “I am just as dumb as you, thanks very much. Remember—partners.”
It was Honey’s turn to laugh now. “Maybe we could toss for it or have a spell-off.”
Trixie did not reply but grabbed Honey’s arm and began to pull her along.
“What? What is it?” Honey cried, trying to keep up.
“The redheaded man. He’s following us.” Trixie ran towards a grove of trees, dragging her friend behind her.
“No, he can’t be,” Honey gasped, trying to look back.
“He is, he’s right over…” Trixie ducked behind a large tree and peered around its trunk. “He’s gone. Honey, I swear he was following us. Honestly. I wasn’t imagining it.”
“I believe you,” Honey said in a small, squeaky voice.
Trixie turned to her friend and her blue eyes widened. There he stood, tall and still shabby in his trench coat and crumpled suit. And Honey was right, there was a button missing from the cuff.
“Bonjour, mademoiselles,” the man was unmistakably French. “Perhaps I can have a moment of your time.”
Trixie considered running, but the man stood between her and Honey and she imagined it would be easy enough for him to grab her best friend.
“We don’t have long,” she said, doing her best to sound calm and firm. “A friend is picking us up and he’ll be here any minute.”
“I am Inspector Marcel Patou from the Sûreté in Paris. And you are wanted for questioning in connection with a counterfeiting ring.” He pulled an old leather wallet from his pocket and flipped it open to reveal identification.
Trixie and Honey both studied it and exchanged glances. From what Trixie could tell, it seemed real enough.
“I witnessed your collection of the parcel from Emile Faurier, a man who has been of interest to the Sûreté for some time. We knew he was working with others outside of France, but his exported goods passed all examination, so we realized he was using an alternate means to move his plates.” He watched them for a moment, then nodded his head. “I can see you know of what I speak.”
“Yes, no, well sort of,” Honey stammered. “But we haven’t done anything wrong. At least not deliberately.”
The Inspector raised his brows. “That is your claim? Two young women travelling on a fancy Learjet alone?”
“It’s not a claim,” Honey returned swiftly. “And we weren’t alone. The plane belongs to my father.”
“Ah, so he is the one behind it and you are just—what do you Americans say—his patsy?”
“He is not behind anything. How dare you!” Honey cried, incensed.
“Inspector?” Trixie hoped she sounded calmer than she felt. “We can explain. We picked up the doll for a man who has an antique store here in Sleepyside. He found out we were going to Paris for the weekend and asked us to do it as a favor.”
“Which was wrong. We know that now,” Honey added. “But we didn’t realize. I didn’t realize. It’s my fault, really. But my dad knows nothing about it.”
“We think Mr. Reid, he’s the one who owns the store, is the crook,” Trixie put in for good measure.
The Frenchman studied them carefully before responding. “Are you telling me that you have given the doll to this man Reid?”
“Yes.” Trixie said.
“No.” Honey said.
The Inspector raised his brows again.
“We did give it to him,” Trixie explained. “But a dog stole it and gave it to my little brother.”
“A dog?” Inspector Patou frowned in confusion. “And your little brother has it now?”
“No.” Trixie and Honey said together.
“You know, mademoiselles. I think, perhaps, it is time you told me exactly where the doll is now.”
“And I think it’s time you told us exactly who you are!”
All three turned and Trixie and Honey both ran towards the speaker.
Jim, flanked by Brian, stood a few feet away.
“That’s Inspector Patou,” Trixie said, stopping beside Jim.
“From the Sûreté,” Honey added with a relieved sigh as she joined her friends.
The Inspector produced his identification again. Brian took it from the man, studied it for a moment, nodded his dark head and handed it back.
“Maybe we should go to Wimpy’s,” Jim suggested. “It would be easier to talk there.”
“Good idea,” Brian seconded, slipping an arm around Honey’s shoulders.
“It’s this way.” Jim nodded in the Inspector’s direction. Taking Trixie’s hand in his, they set off across the common.
They made their way to the old-fashioned diner and the five of them took a booth in the corner and ordered drinks.
“This is a very serious matter you have involved yourselves in,” Inspector Patou said, eying his coffee suspiciously.
“Trust me, we realise that,” Brian said.
“And we didn’t mean to get involved,” Honey added. “And we don’t want to be involved. You can just take that old doll away.”
Trixie opened her mouth to protest, but the Inspector spoke first. “I am not sure that would be for the best,” he said. “This man, he believes you have the doll, yes?”
“Yes,” Trixie said.
“I am concerned for your safety, should I take the doll. And also, I would not be able to connect him to the ring.”
“Making charging him virtually impossible,” Jim noted.
“Oui.”
“So maybe we can work together,” Trixie suggested eagerly, ignoring the imploring look Honey threw her.
“Or maybe we can call Sergeant Molinson,” Brian said.
“Your police, yes?”
“Yes. He’s sort of a friend of ours.” Honey looked from one Bob-White to the other. “Well, maybe friend isn’t exactly right.”
Trixie could think of far better words to describe the Sleepyside policeman. She shot a glance at the silent Frenchman, noting the lines that ran between his brows.
“Do you think we should go to our police?” she asked.
“It might be, how do you say? Awkward.”
“Awkward?” Brian repeated.
The inspector twisted his coffee cup in its saucer. “My visit here is not…official.”
For the first time, Trixie warmed to the man.
“How not official?” Jim asked.
The older man shrugged. “If I can bring these counterfeiters to justice, I am sure it will be very official.”
Trixie couldn’t help but laugh, Honey giggled and even the boys smiled.
“That sounds just like Honey and me,” Trixie admitted.
“It is eerily familiar,” Brian confirmed drily.
“The plates should not have left France,” Inspector Patou said.
“We really are sorry about that,” Honey said.
“It was my responsibility, and now I must fix it.” The Frenchman frowned and lifted his hand to his heart as he spoke.
“Which you’d prefer to do without involving local law enforcement?” Brian said, after exchanging a knowing look with Jim.
“Oui. But I am not sure exactly how to proceed.”
“We made this mess,” Honey said swiftly. “We should try and help.”
Trixie nodded vigorously.
Inspector Patou’s frown deepened. “I cannot endanger you young people.”
“But we won’t be in any danger,” Trixie said, ignoring the looks on Jim’s and Brian’s faces. “Not with you in charge.”
“It is too great a risk. I must do this alone,” said the Inspector, though he sounded less certain now.
“But that means you might be in danger.” Honey’s hazel eyes clouded.
“Worse,” Trixie put in. “He might get away with it. You’re only one person.”
A faint smile stretched the Inspector’s mouth. “Perhaps, you are correct.”
“Then let us help.”
As Trixie spoke, Jim shifted uneasily in his seat.
“I confess your assistance might be of necessity.” The Inspector admitted reluctantly.
“Somehow, that happens more often than a person might think,” Jim said drily.
“So, what we need is a plan.” Trixie leaned across the table eagerly.
“What I need is an aspirin.” Brian shook his dark head resignedly. “Okay, let’s hear it, Trix. But the Inspector has the final say, right?”
Trixie nodded and began to outline her idea.
Another emergency meeting was called and after dinner the group gathered again in the clubhouse.
“My folks are starting to wonder what’s up with all these meetings” Diana said, as she slid into her chair and pulled her knitted hat down to cover the tips of her ears.
“Ours just said don’t be too late,” Mart observed. “So, let’s get on with it.”
Trixie, with occasional help from Honey, brought the others up to date on the latest happenings.
“So, we’re going to drop the doll off outside of the Antique Barn and then skedaddle, leaving the Inspector to deal with Reid,” she concluded, the slight scowl on her face clearly indicating how she felt about that particular part of the plan.
“It’s for the best, Trix,” Jim said. “Reid could be dangerous.”
“And there’s safety in numbers,” Trixie returned. It was the argument she’d used to try and convince the Frenchman to let them go with him, but he’d been adamant they stay out of harm’s way.
“We’ll be there, at a safe distance,” Brian added. “So we can get help, if necessary.”
“How will we know if there’s a problem if we have to stay way back?” Trixie demanded.
“Hopefully, there won’t be,” Dan said. “But if we split into two groups, one out back and the other out front, we should be able to see if anything goes wrong. And then, regardless of what your friend says, we contact Molinson.”
“So, when are we meeting this inspector?” Di asked, violet eyes concerned.
“Soon. We should get going,” Brian said, consulting his watch.
“I have the doll.” Trixie held up a paper carry bag.
“Okay, so let’s get on with it, gang.” Jim looked from one Bob-White to the next and the group left the clubhouse and headed to Glen Road.
Author's notes: Thanks again to Deanna and to Vivian. In spite of their busy schedules, they always made time- true Bob-Whites. And the cool graphics? The superb MaryN, of course. Trixie Belden et al belong to Random House and not to me. NO profit is being made from these scribblings.
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