Chapter Thirteen & Epilogue
Rated Blue Star for all ages. Some mild violence
The thought of what lay ahead for them all made Trixie, whose bonds were now painfully tight, turn away from her friends. The idea that her curiosity had put them in jeopardy filled her with horror. Would she ever learn? How many times did she have to let her love of mysteries hurt the people she loved? She could not imagine what must be going through their heads right now. They must be so angry, so disappointed. Brian and Jim were both so responsible that they were probably blaming themselves and that was crazy. Honey would support her no matter what, but all that ever seemed to mean was that her best friend was constantly in danger. And poor Diana, she was so scared—Diana had no desire to be any kind of a detective.
Out of the corner of her eye, Trixie could see that Brian had edged closer to Diana, leaning his body so that he could make contact with the distressed girl. The gesture seemed to give her the comfort she needed for she stopped crying and squared her shoulders resolutely.
Trixie forced herself to face her friends and in none of their faces did she condemnation. Fear and uncertainty, yes, but they didn’t blame her. Jim’s green eyes held determination and she wished more than anything that she could place her hand in his. Jim had such strong hands. They made her feel safe.
Her gaze shifted to her almost twin who merely winked at her. She managed a half-smile in return. No matter how much they bickered and teased one another, she could always count on Mart when it really mattered.
Dan caught her eye and nodded his dark head. Dan doesn’t deserve this, she thought. None of them do, but Sleepyside was a new beginning for Dan and now… Trixie felt a slight pressure against her arm as Honey leaned closer to her. She saw the worry on her friend’s face, but more than that she saw the love in Honey’s hazel eyes.
Tears prickled behind her lids. Would any of them leave this place alive? What would happen to her parents and Bobby, if they were all killed? A feeling of guilt washed over her. If only there was something she could do.
As if in answer to her prayer, there was a scraping sound and the door to the store flew open. Sergeant Molinson burst through and he wasn’t alone. Another officer was with him—both were armed. Carl Reid pushed one of his associates towards the policemen and headed towards the rear of the store. He was back within moments, his hands raised in surrender as two more members of Sleepyside’s finest appeared—weapons trained on the store owner and one them holding Carl’s weapon in his other hand.
“I’d put those guns down, if I were you,” the sergeant ordered the remaining crooks.
Faces grim, the men obeyed, slowly lowering their weapons to the ground and then stepping back as Molinson’s men moved in and slapped handcuffs on each of them in turn.
“Have you got them? Have you?” Agnes De Keyser came in through the front door, a crowbar grasped in her good hand.
“Yes, ma’am. We have.” Sergeant Molinson nodded towards his team who were guarding the three crooks.
“Trixie, Honey? Well, what on earth are all of you children doing here?” the older woman asked. “And why is poor Mr. Reid in handcuffs. That can’t be right. He’s hardly likely to burglarize his own shop. It was a burglary, wasn’t it? All those people sneaking around in the bushes.””
“No ma’am, it most certainly is not. We are dealing with a crime of quite a different nature. We’re dealing with a counterfeiting ring.” The Sergeant picked up a wad of bills and held them out for Mrs. De Keyser to see.
“Oh, no,” she cried. “Doesn’t that make me some kind of accomplice? This place does belong to me, after all.” The crowbar fell from her hand with a clang.
“No, ma’am. I assure you that’s not the case. On the other hand, there has to be something I can charge a certain interfering young lady with.”
“You can charge me, if you want to, Sergeant. But we are really glad to see you,” Trixie said.
The Sergeant walked closer to her, his expression long-suffering. “Not sure how long that’s going to last, once we call your folks.”
“Good point,” Trixie agreed. “You can leave me right here, if you want.”
The Sergeant bent down and released her. “Tempting as that might be, Miss Belden. I think we’d better get you all home. But I want you down to the station first thing in the morning for statements. Maybe, just maybe, after this, you’ll leave the detective work to the professionals. But I won’t hold my breath. We’ve had our eye on this place for a while now.”
“You have?” Trixie couldn’t keep the note of disappointment out of her voice. “but what made you come here tonight? Just in the nick of time?”
“Nick of time?” Mrs. De Keyser snorted. “I called them almost an hour ago.”
“Well, yes, that’s true,” Sergeant Molinson admitted, flushing. “But that message was not relayed directly to me immediately. Burglaries often aren’t. But once we were made aware of where the supposed burglary was taking place… We knew something was up with this place. And real life police work is not like TV, kid. There are protocols we have to follow in these situations—we need warrants to come in guns blazing. And although I should know better by now, I didn’t expect to find you all held at gunpoint.
. Two of Molinson’s team led them away, whilst the third began working on releasing the other hostages. Once freed, Brian began checking his friends’ wrists and ankles. Inspector Patou got slowly to his feet.
“I am Inspector Patou of the Surete and I owe you an apology, sir,” he said, addressing the sergeant.
“You owe me an explanation at the very least,” the sergeant returned.
“This counterfeiting operation has been causing much trouble in Paris. The plates, of course, are from my homeland. Had we been more diligent, none of this could have happened. Luckily, I, at least, had been watching the store from which the doll was collected. I was able to follow the young ladies and track them back to your charming town. I can give you all of my information but first I must speak in defence of these young people, who have only tried to assist me.”
“Save it,” the sergeant said resignedly. “I’ve heard it before.”
“He really has,” Honey admitted as she got to her feet. “We do sort of make a habit of this.”
“Not me,” Diana put in. “I try very hard not to make it a habit.”
“If you continue to keep company with Miss Belden, you might find that difficult to avoid,” Sergeant Molinson observed. “One day her luck will run out.”
Trixie swallowed, knowing he was right. All of them at one time or another had been in real danger, and she was the common denominator.
“Personally, compared to other hostage situations this really wasn’t so bad,” Dan added, his tone deliberately light.
“That’s true,” Honey confirmed.
“You were awesome, Hon,” Trixie said. “You gave me cover and tried to distract them.”
“Well, I was not at all keen on being killed,” Honey returned. “And we’ve definitely been held by scarier people.”
“This was scary enough,” Brian said calmly. “I’m guessing we’re all suffering from a little shock right now.”
“Not surprising,” Sergeant Molinson said. “I’m suffering from a little shock myself.”
“But all’s well that ends well, right?” Trixie said brightly, desperately hoping that was true.
“We’ll see.” Sergeant Molinson couldn’t quite hide the half smile that sprang to his lips. “I’m not going to arrest any of you, so that’s something.”
“It definitely is,” Diana said. “My folks would not be happy if I got arrested.”
“Well, if the Inspector will come down to the station with me, can I count on you kids to go straight home now?”
“Absolutely not,” Agnes De Keyser said before any of the Bob-Whites could speak. “They’re coming home with me first for hot chocolate and blueberry muffins, baked for me by a kind neighbour.”
“That’s the best idea I’ve heard all evening,” Mart said.
“I agree,” Dan said. “Hot chocolate and muffins sound good to me, too.”
“Anything that delays me going home to report to Moms and Dad sounds good to me,” Trixie added.
“Don’t worry, Trix, we were all in on this one,” Jim said, coming over to slip an arm around her shoulders.
“Jim’s right. And I’m happy to report that none of us have been too badly damaged by our little adventure, so I vote yes, too.” Brian released Honey’s wrist, his check-overs complete.
“Follow me, then.” Nodding at the amused sergeant and the bewildered Frenchman, Mrs. De Keyser led the group out.
“Your America is quite an unusual place,” Inspector Patou said.
“Hey, don’t judge America by this lot,” the sergeant replied with a rueful grin. “This is Sleepyside and those are the Bob-Whites—a whole other kettle of fish.”
The Bob-Whites gathered in Mrs. De Keyser’s cosy living room. They were surprised to discover that it wasn’t quite as late as they thought. They still had a little time before they were expected home. Their ordeal felt like it had lasted much longer than it actually did. Brian helped their hostess in the kitchen and they were now sipping hot chocolate and eating warm muffins.
“Your poor things,” the older woman said. “What a terrible time you must have had.” She was settled in her favorite chair, Willy curled up at her feet.
“We’re okay, aren’t we, gang?” Trixie returned, though her tone was even, her eyes were almost pleading.
“We will be,” Jim, said, his hand tightening around hers.
“It wasn’t that bad,” Di managed valiantly.
Mart slid an arm around her shoulders and gently squeezed.
“Dan, are you okay?” Honey asked.
“Me?” Dan gave her a smile. “I’ve been tied up a lot longer than that. I am fine.”
“Oh, that was a horrible time!” Honey cried, obviously remembering Dan’s ordeal when Jim’s cousin Juliana was getting married.
“But Dan came through it, and we’ll all come through, too,” Brian said, looking up at her reassuringly from his position at her feet.
“I know you’re right, of course,” Honey said. “I’ve been tied up longer than that, too. Come to think of it.”
“Let’s not think about that,” Mart said.
“What exciting lives you must all lead,” Mrs. De Keyser said with a shake of her head.
“That’s one way of putting it,” Jim admitted.
“I’m so sorry,” Trixie said. “I keep promising to be more careful and then….”
“We all went along with it, Trix,” Mart reminded her.
“I’m still sorry,” his sister said.
“Let’s finish up our snacks and head for home,” Brian suggested. “I’m guessing a good night’s sleep will do us all the world of good.”
“As usual Doc Brian is right,” Dan agreed.
A few minutes later the dishes were rinsed and on the draining board and the Bob-Whites were headed home.
“Honey and I will see Di and Dan home,” Jim said. “We can explain everything to our folks in the morning before we go to the station.”
“On that cheery note, we bid you good night,” Mart said, reaching over to squeeze Diana’s hand one more time.
The three Beldens watched until their friends disappeared into the darkness and then turned and headed for Crabapple Farm.
“Can we wait until the morning to tell moms and dad?” Trixie asked.
“I think so, don’t you, Bri?” Mart turned to his older brother.
Brian thought for a moment before nodding his dark head. “I think we all need a little time to process what happened. It’s probably a good idea.”
They entered the farmhouse and Trixie felt herself relax a little. It’s cozy familiarity was like having a soft, warm blanket thrown around you. They were so lucky. To Trixie’s surprise her parents were still awake, sitting sleepily in front of the fire. “Was the movie good?” her mother asked.
“We certainly had an exciting time,” Mart replied instead.
“We’ll tell you about it in the morning,” Brian added. “Come on, Trix. Let’s get to bed.”
Trixie nodded and after bidding her parents good night, followed her brothers up the stairs.
Chapter 14 (Epilogue)
Commendations and Conclusions.
As Trixie had suspected, it took some time to recover from the events surrounding the antique doll. The relief they felt at being rescued was colored by the knowledge of how truly close they’d come to being killed. Diana, in particular struggled in the aftermath, but with the support of her family and friends she was able to deal with what happened. Trixie had very serious conversations with both her parents and Sergeant Molinson. Although the Bob-Whites collectively took responsibility for their actions, Trixie knew that her own behaviour had created the real jeopardy. She was genuinely contrite and made sure her fellow BWGS knew it. Brian and Jim, and even Inspector Patou all insisted they should have prevented what transpired, but Trixie knew in her heart of hearts, that she needed to think before she acted. But slowly and surely life returned to normal.
Before they knew it, Thanksgiving was with them. Light snow blanketed Sleepyside and its surrounds and there were no wild horrocanes to mar the occasion. The group worked hard to help Helen Belden prepare for the Beldens' famous open house. Finally, as the throng of guests began to dwindle, the Bob-Whites gathered around the fire in the living room of Crabapple Farm, second helpings of pumpkin pie in hand. They had all agreed that this traditional day of thanks would be free of any talk of mysteries, counterfeiters and danger—they were determined to concentrate on good things and happy thoughts.
“I think we can call this another successful open-house,” Brian said, leaning back against the sofa and smiling at Honey, who sat next to him.
“I heartily concur with my esteemed older sibling,” Mart agreed. “The turkey was moist and delicious, the mash fluffy perfection, the green bean casserole a savory delight, the potato salad, and I offer my gratitude to the fair Diana here, a perfect blend of flavors, and proof that you cannot have too much potato during a festive occasion, the coleslaw clear evidence that healthy food does not need to be without—“
“Please,” Dan clamped his hand over his friend’s mouth. “I’m beginning to feel as if I have eaten far too much, and as I am enjoying this second piece of pie, I’d like to forget how much I’ve already consumed.”
“Me, too,” Diana added. “I’m not sure how I have room for more of this gorgeous pie, but I have.”
“Good point,” Jim said, green eyes twinkling. “My compliments to all who contributed to the feast. And in honor of the occasion, I would like to offer my thanks to each and every one of you. I feel so lucky to live here in Sleepyside, to be part of the Wheeler family, and to be a member of this club. He raised his fork, to many more Thanksgivings together.”
“I’ll eat to that,” Mart said, plunging his own fork into his pie. The others followed suit and the seven Bob-Whites said goodnight to another Thanksgiving.
December rolled in and the BWGs were busily preparing for the holidays. The Bob-Whites had voted and determined that none of this year’s Christmas gifts could be store bought. Mart and Dan were both using wood to make a variety of presents. Honey, unsurprisingly, was knitting warm scarves for everyone in colors that she felt suited them best—lavender for Diana, dark green for Jim, crimson for Dan, light blue for Trixie, cream for Mart, and dark gray for Brian. Diana was creating gorgeous Christmas ornaments, using pine cones, broken pieces of costume jewellery, and tiny glass jars. Jim had decided to make everyone a personal notebook, binding each one in a different color. Brian had done a little investigating of his own and collected a range of broken items from his friends and family and was repairing them with care. Trixie had protested that no-one would want anything she made—she’d even spent two afternoons with Honey patiently casting on stitches with her but Trixie’s wool ended up more tangled than her curls after a gallop in the wind and she finally decided on special Christmas cookies and brownies—tailored to her friends’ individual taste. “Baking cookies never feels like domestic chores to me,” she said to her mother when she announced her decision.
So, it was chocolate chip for Mart, oats and raisins for Jim, mint chocolate for Dan, salted caramel for Honey, coffee and cinnamon for Brian, and white chocolate and raspberry for Diana.
The clubhouse was now a cozy warm place again, thanks to a small wood heater, donated by a grateful Mrs. De Keyser, who no longer had any use for it. Regan and Mr. Maypenny installed it, replacing the old broken oil heater. The group gathered there often, as their homemade gift plan extended to the rest of their friends and family. Personalized calendars were one of their projects and hand-painted pots of herbs another.
It was fun working together, and it gave them the chance to catch up on their homework, and to talk about their recent escapades. It was on a Friday afternoon that Trixie burst into the clubhouse, her cheeks pink and her blue eyes flashing.
“Guess what?” she asked, shrugging out of her jacket and unwinding her heavy knit blue scarf. “Oh, darn,” she said. “Another run! It’s beyond repair now, isn’t it Hon?” She held out the offending object, her expression rueful.
“Yes, it is. I’ve already told you, it can’t be saved,” Honey returned, her lips twitching with amusement.
“Now, I’ll have to wear the brown one. I hate the brown one.” Trixie’s expression closely resembled that of her youngest brother’s and grins swept across the faces of her friends.
“Did my auditory appendages deceive me, or did you have some sort of information to share with the group?” Mart asked.
“Oh, right. Yes. I ran into Sergeant Molinson when I was in town. Carl Reid has been indicted and remanded in custody. They’re not sure when the trial will be, but the sergeant’s pretty sure he’ll go away for a long time.”
“Forever, I hope,” Diana said, closing the guillotine she was working with, with considerable force.
“Maybe not that long, Di. But I’m guessing it won’t be a short stay when the time comes.” Brian smiled at his friend.
“Well, that’s good to know, anyway. And the sergeant was even sharing information with you, so that’s a bonus,” Dan said.
“More than that.” Trixie smiled. “He actually paid us a compliment, or at least passed on his thanks for our help.”
“Are you sure?” Honey asked. “Maybe you heard wrong.”
Trixie shook her head. “He actually said thank you. Of course, he also said to call him next time we stumble across something—.”
“Mysterious,” the others chorused.
Trixie laughed. “Exactly.”
“He’d better get a special phone line just for you, Trix.” Mart’s blue eyes danced.
“Maybe he should,” Jim agreed. “Trixie’s solved a lot of serious crimes around here.”
“Not on my own,” Trixie protested. “Honey’s always right by my side, and the rest of you, too.”
“Well, this one was pretty much down to you and Honey,” Brian said.
“What about Inspector Patou?” Honey wanted to know. “I hope he wasn’t in too much trouble.”
Trixie shook her head. “In fact, he’s going to get a citation or a commendation, or something from the French government.”
“That’s a relief. Though having met him, I can see why you and Honey were spooked by him when you saw him in Paris,” Di said. “He does look a little shady.”
“We should know better than to judge someone’s character by their face,” Honey said. “Just because Dick was sort of good looking, I didn’t initially suspect him!”
“Dick looked like a weasel,” Trixie said with a toss of her sandy curls.
“Whether or not Dick was good looking or resembled a weasel is kind of the point,” Brian’s tone was measured. “Either way, his character was what it was—in spite of his face, not because of it.”
“Very true,” Mart agreed. “Though I do take Miss Lynch’s point—our French inspector could just have easily modelled for a mugshot as a police ID.”
“Well, he has promised to show Honey and I around the Surete, if we go back to Paris.” Trixie’s blue eyes sparkled.
“Maybe, for the sake of all of our sanity, we’ll go with you next time,” Mart said.
“I still can’t believe how dumb I was to agree to bring that doll into the United States,” Honey sighed.
“How dumb we were,” Trixie corrected.
“I don’t think either of you were dumb,” Jim said. “Just a little….”
“Naïve, gullible, easily taken-in?” Mart supplied.
“Let’s just say kind and generous and a touch impulsive,” Brian suggested.
“I like the sound of that much better,” Honey said.
“He was the bad guy. Trixie and Honey are the good guys. And that’s that,” Di declared.
“On that note,” Dan said. “I have some freshly made hot chocolate, right here. Shall I pour us all a mug?”
There were nods and yeses all around.
“What about poor Mrs. De Keyser. She’s lost her tenant,” Di said as she accepted the steaming mug from Dan.
“She has a new one all lined up and ready to go.” Honey reached over to grab her own drink. “Clara’s Crafts is moving in—it’s much bigger than her store now. I think it’s just wonderful.”
“Sewing and knitting and needles and scrapbooking?” Mart shrugged. “At least there won’t be any mysteries this time.”
Trixie took her own mug of chocolate and smiled. No one had thought an Antique Barn was mysterious either. And look how that turned out.
Author's notes: So, this story is pretty much in everyone's bottom 'worst' three books of all time- with good reason.
When I began this my idea was to treat it as if I were a Random House editor who had a limited time to 'Trixiefy" the book and make it fit a little better- without rewriting it extensively. I did, in fact, finish it in a few weeks. I won a true prize in getting MaryN to handle the graphic and my stalwart editors Vivian and Deanna were amazing. Then, for any number of reasons, I left it to languish. Well, if anyone ever has a dull, rainy or snowy afternoon, where they are stuck inside, they may choose to read it through to the end. Thank you.
Trixie Belden et al belong to Random House and not to me.
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