Chapter Nine A Stranger and An Accusation
Rated Blue Star for all ages. Some mild violence.
“Him who?” hissed Honey, as a group of people moving through the lobby separated the two girls from the adults.
“The redheaded man from Paris,” Trixie returned. “Over there in that armchair.”
Honey turned her head and focused her attention on the man. “Are you sure it’s him?” she asked, a frown furrowing her brow.
“Positive.” Trixie glanced around swiftly, grabbed her friend by the arm, and dragged her towards the hotel door. “Sorry, Moms, Miss Trask,” Trixie said. “We got caught up in the crowd.”
“It is busy, isn’t it?” Miss Trask agreed. “Now, shall we go and get something to eat?”
Trixie threw a look over her shoulder and exchanged looks with Honey, who shrugged. “Actually, we are kind of tired. Maybe we could just head home.”
The two older women looked surprised. “If that’s what you want.” Trixie’s mother leaned closer to her daughter. “Are you alright?”
“Sure. Of course. It’s just you know...I’m tired and it’s so busy here.” She pushed out of the door as she spoke and the others followed.
Trixie moved at a fast space and the others hurried to keep up with her. When they were well clear of the hotel, Trixie slowed down a little and Honey joined her friend as they waited for the light to change.
“Are you okay?” Trixie whispered. “I really don’t think he followed us.”
“I don’t care if he did,” Honey returned crossly. “I’m so hungry, I’d probably just chew on his arm or something.”
“Sorry.” Trixie knew she was right to make a quick getaway, but if she was totally honest, she was hungry as well.
They were getting close to the station when inspiration struck. “You know what would be cool,” she said, turning to her mother.
“What?” Helen asked with a smile.
“Hot dogs,” Trixie said. “We can eat them on the train.”
“That’s an awesome idea,” Honey seconded.
“Hot dogs?” Miss Trask’s blue eyes twinkled. “Well, I suppose you don’t get more New York than that.”
“Exactly.” Trixie grinned. “I’m becoming very cosmopolitan. Paris and croissants one weekend and New York and hot dogs the next.”
“It’s hard to argue with that,” her mother laughed, and the four of them crossed to the cart and placed their orders.
The train was crowded and the two girls took their seats a few rows away from Miss Trask and Mrs. Belden.
Once her hot dog had been consumed and her equilibrium restored, Honey turned to her friend.
“You’re certain it was the same man. The one from Paris?” she asked.
Trixie nodded. “I saw him three different times in Paris. It was him; I’m sure. Didn’t you think so?”
Honey shook her head. “I couldn’t be certain. I really only caught a glimpse of him at the tower. The other times, you saw him.”
“Well, it was him. Now, we just need to figure out why he’s here.”
The following Monday, the Bob-Whites once again gathered in the school cafeteria. Having talked things over with Honey, Trixie had called the meeting so they could fill the rest of the group in on the redheaded man. She was the last to arrive and flung herself down in the last remaining chair.
“You summoned us?” Mart queried, setting aside his orange juice.
“I wouldn’t call it summoned exactly,” Trixie began, a frown forming on her freckled face.
“Let’s not get distracted with semantics,” Brian said firmly. “What’s up, Trix? Is this to do with the doll?”
“Doll?” Di echoed. “What doll?”
“They picked up an antique doll in Paris for that Reid guy that runs the new store next to Mrs. De Keyser’s,” Brian explained.
“They did what?” Dan and Jim said simultaneously.
“Brian’s already told us we shouldn’t have,” Trixie said. “And that’s not what I wanted to talk to you guys about—at least not exactly.”
“Okay, Trix.” Jim smiled at her. “What exactly did you want to tell us?”
Carefully, Trixie went through their time in Paris from the moment she first saw the redheaded man, through the other sightings, and finishing with seeing the man at the Sheraton Hotel.
“You’re sure it was the same man, Trix?” Brian said, because someone had to.
“Yes.”
“What about you, Honey?” Dan asked.
“Not as sure as Trixie,” Honey admitted. “But I didn’t see him every time. I do think, now that I’ve had a chance to think about it, that the man at the hotel looked like the man at the Eiffel Tower, and he was definitely wearing the same or very similar trench coat.”
“Aren’t trench coats sort of common in Paris?” Di asked.
“One of the pockets was sort of torn,” Honey returned. “And the big button on the sleeve cuff was missing.”
“You noticed a torn pocket and a missing button?” Mart kept his tone even, but Trixie made a face.
“Honey notices things like that,” she said.
“I should have been looking at his face.” Honey sighed.
“Well, I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m inclined to believe Trix and Honey.” Jim nodded his own red-haired head decisively.
“Big surprise there.” Mart grinned at his friend.
“I’m willing to believe them, too,” Brian agreed. “But—and don’t shoot me—I’m not sure it’s as sinister as it sounds. I mean, seeing him in Paris, those places were generally touristy kind of places. And the Sheraton Hotel is a popular choice for international travellers. Not that we know he was French, do we?”
“No,” Trixie conceded. “We didn’t hear him speak. But I think my idea that we were being followed is no less far-fetched than your idea that he just randomly turned up in New York.”
“I agree. I think Trixie’s theory is as likely as Brian’s,” Dan said, and there was a general nod of heads around the table.
“But that’s so creepy.” Diana shivered. “The idea of someone following you, not just around Paris, but back here, too.”
“And I have a hard time believing that any doll could be that valuable,” Mart added.
“You might be surprised,” Honey said. “I did a little research in our library and I spoke to Mother on the phone. Some rare, antique porcelain dolls can cost as much as one hundred thousand dollars—maybe even more.”
“Whew,” Dan whistled. “That might be worth following someone for.”
“It’s also something that you’d pay significant import duty on,” Jim noted. “Duty your friend, Mr. Reid, didn’t pay.”
“Oh, no.” Honey put her hands to her face. “We could get into trouble for that.”
“I’m pretty sure that man is doing something wrong.” Trixie leaned her chin on her hands.
“Let’s solve one problem at a time,” Mart advised. “Maybe you gals were followed and maybe it’s Trixie’s excellent but sometimes overactive imagination, but we have no proof about Mr. Reid, and unless one of us sees this redheaded man, we can’t really do anything. So how about we keep our eyes open and go from there?”
Trixie felt her anxiety ease slightly. It wasn’t much, but at least they hadn’t just dismissed her concerns.“Okay. I guess Mart’s right’, she said. “We’ll all keep our eyes open.”
Trixie wanted to do more than that, but when she and Honey got off the bus at Mrs. De Keyser’s, Honey flatly refused to go to the Antique Barn.
“We’re here to help Mrs. De Keyser,” she insisted. “That’s our number one priority. If it doesn’t take too long, and the store is still open, maybe we can stop by then.”
Reluctantly, Trixie nodded, though she did hide a small smile. Honey was funny when she was bossy. Mrs. De Keyser was slowly regaining the use of her arm, so there was less for the two to do. While Trixie vacuumed, Honey did the dishes, and then together they prepared a tuna noodle casserole. Honey was sliding it into the oven and Trixie was wiping down the counter when they heard a cry. They rushed to the hall to find Mrs. De Keyser standing at the open front door.
“Oh, how foolish,” she cried. “I thought I might water one of my geraniums on the porch and Willy got out.”
“We’ll get him back,” Trixie promised, dashing out on to the porch and calling Willy’s name.
“I should get the yard fenced,” the older woman said. “But it’s so expensive.”
“I’m sure he’ll be back in a moment,” Honey assured her.
“I don’t know where he’s run off to,” Trixie said as she stepped back inside. “But I can put my jacket on and go look.”
“No, no, dear. I’m sure he won’t go far. He hasn’t had his dinner yet. Perhaps you could just bundle up those newspapers and magazines and wipe over the bathroom for me before you go.”
The two girls did as they were asked. Just as they were donning their red jackets, there was a scrabbling at the front door and, sure enough, Willy had come home.
“Just look at you, you’re a terrible mess.” His mistress scolded him half-heartedly. She found a brush, but Willy was wriggling around too much for her to groom him. In the end, Honey held the little dog and Trixie brushed him until he was presentable again. They then said their goodbyes and stepped out into the darkening evening.
The following afternoon, Trixie and Honey met up after their last class. “That math test was the worst,” Trixie grumbled. “I may as well have spent last night looking at the new ‘treasures’ Bobby found, ‘cause that studying I did instead was no help at all.”
“You always say that,” Honey consoled. “And always manage to pass. I’m sure you did okay.”
They had left the school building and were making their way along the path that led to the bus stop when they heard their names being called, loudly, by a familiar voice.
“There you are. Miss Wheeler, Miss Belden. I want to talk to you.”
The two teenagers stopped where they were, puzzled by the angry look on Carl Reid’s face. Instinctively, Honey moved closer to Trixie.
“Where’s my doll?” he demanded.
“What?” the two girls stammered as one.
“The doll. It’s missing. You were the only ones who knew about it. And I found this!” He waved a school hall pass with Trixie’s name on it in their faces. “It was near my back door, which was open.”
“I must have dropped it, then,” Trixie said. “You know we’ve been to your shop, Mr. Reid. But neither one of us know anything about your doll. We certainly didn’t take it.”
“Of course we didn’t,” Honey added.
“Who else took it, I’d like to know? You two have been hanging around. Probably part of some teenage gang. Well, I won’t stand for it. If I don’t have my property back in my hands by tomorrow afternoon, I will press charges. You can count on it.” With that he whirled around and stormed away, leaving two shaken girls behind.
“Oh, Trixie, how awful,” Honey said, her face pale.
“It’s ridiculous,” Trixie said, anger surfacing at the unfair accusation.
“I know that, but, Trixie, what if it is our fault?”
“How could it be? I know I didn’t take it, and I know you didn’t take it, and so do you.”
“But what if we led the thief to the doll.” Honey’s voice was barely above a whisper.
“How could we…?” Trixie trailed off as her friend’s meaning became clear. “Oh, no, Honey, no.”
MAIN
Author's Notes: Thanks to Vivian, Deanna, MaryN, Susan and Dana who all gave me reasons to pursue this project. I have actually been to NYC ( where I was lucky enough to spend the afternoon with Mal, Laura P and Pat K. I can hardly believe that was almost six years ago) So, I dedicate this chapter to them and to the gathering together of Jixsters everywhere. Trixie Belden et al belong to Random House and not to me. No profit is being made from these scribblings.
NEXT
“Him who?” hissed Honey, as a group of people moving through the lobby separated the two girls from the adults.
“The redheaded man from Paris,” Trixie returned. “Over there in that armchair.”
Honey turned her head and focused her attention on the man. “Are you sure it’s him?” she asked, a frown furrowing her brow.
“Positive.” Trixie glanced around swiftly, grabbed her friend by the arm, and dragged her towards the hotel door. “Sorry, Moms, Miss Trask,” Trixie said. “We got caught up in the crowd.”
“It is busy, isn’t it?” Miss Trask agreed. “Now, shall we go and get something to eat?”
Trixie threw a look over her shoulder and exchanged looks with Honey, who shrugged. “Actually, we are kind of tired. Maybe we could just head home.”
The two older women looked surprised. “If that’s what you want.” Trixie’s mother leaned closer to her daughter. “Are you alright?”
“Sure. Of course. It’s just you know...I’m tired and it’s so busy here.” She pushed out of the door as she spoke and the others followed.
Trixie moved at a fast space and the others hurried to keep up with her. When they were well clear of the hotel, Trixie slowed down a little and Honey joined her friend as they waited for the light to change.
“Are you okay?” Trixie whispered. “I really don’t think he followed us.”
“I don’t care if he did,” Honey returned crossly. “I’m so hungry, I’d probably just chew on his arm or something.”
“Sorry.” Trixie knew she was right to make a quick getaway, but if she was totally honest, she was hungry as well.
They were getting close to the station when inspiration struck. “You know what would be cool,” she said, turning to her mother.
“What?” Helen asked with a smile.
“Hot dogs,” Trixie said. “We can eat them on the train.”
“That’s an awesome idea,” Honey seconded.
“Hot dogs?” Miss Trask’s blue eyes twinkled. “Well, I suppose you don’t get more New York than that.”
“Exactly.” Trixie grinned. “I’m becoming very cosmopolitan. Paris and croissants one weekend and New York and hot dogs the next.”
“It’s hard to argue with that,” her mother laughed, and the four of them crossed to the cart and placed their orders.
The train was crowded and the two girls took their seats a few rows away from Miss Trask and Mrs. Belden.
Once her hot dog had been consumed and her equilibrium restored, Honey turned to her friend.
“You’re certain it was the same man. The one from Paris?” she asked.
Trixie nodded. “I saw him three different times in Paris. It was him; I’m sure. Didn’t you think so?”
Honey shook her head. “I couldn’t be certain. I really only caught a glimpse of him at the tower. The other times, you saw him.”
“Well, it was him. Now, we just need to figure out why he’s here.”
The following Monday, the Bob-Whites once again gathered in the school cafeteria. Having talked things over with Honey, Trixie had called the meeting so they could fill the rest of the group in on the redheaded man. She was the last to arrive and flung herself down in the last remaining chair.
“You summoned us?” Mart queried, setting aside his orange juice.
“I wouldn’t call it summoned exactly,” Trixie began, a frown forming on her freckled face.
“Let’s not get distracted with semantics,” Brian said firmly. “What’s up, Trix? Is this to do with the doll?”
“Doll?” Di echoed. “What doll?”
“They picked up an antique doll in Paris for that Reid guy that runs the new store next to Mrs. De Keyser’s,” Brian explained.
“They did what?” Dan and Jim said simultaneously.
“Brian’s already told us we shouldn’t have,” Trixie said. “And that’s not what I wanted to talk to you guys about—at least not exactly.”
“Okay, Trix.” Jim smiled at her. “What exactly did you want to tell us?”
Carefully, Trixie went through their time in Paris from the moment she first saw the redheaded man, through the other sightings, and finishing with seeing the man at the Sheraton Hotel.
“You’re sure it was the same man, Trix?” Brian said, because someone had to.
“Yes.”
“What about you, Honey?” Dan asked.
“Not as sure as Trixie,” Honey admitted. “But I didn’t see him every time. I do think, now that I’ve had a chance to think about it, that the man at the hotel looked like the man at the Eiffel Tower, and he was definitely wearing the same or very similar trench coat.”
“Aren’t trench coats sort of common in Paris?” Di asked.
“One of the pockets was sort of torn,” Honey returned. “And the big button on the sleeve cuff was missing.”
“You noticed a torn pocket and a missing button?” Mart kept his tone even, but Trixie made a face.
“Honey notices things like that,” she said.
“I should have been looking at his face.” Honey sighed.
“Well, I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m inclined to believe Trix and Honey.” Jim nodded his own red-haired head decisively.
“Big surprise there.” Mart grinned at his friend.
“I’m willing to believe them, too,” Brian agreed. “But—and don’t shoot me—I’m not sure it’s as sinister as it sounds. I mean, seeing him in Paris, those places were generally touristy kind of places. And the Sheraton Hotel is a popular choice for international travellers. Not that we know he was French, do we?”
“No,” Trixie conceded. “We didn’t hear him speak. But I think my idea that we were being followed is no less far-fetched than your idea that he just randomly turned up in New York.”
“I agree. I think Trixie’s theory is as likely as Brian’s,” Dan said, and there was a general nod of heads around the table.
“But that’s so creepy.” Diana shivered. “The idea of someone following you, not just around Paris, but back here, too.”
“And I have a hard time believing that any doll could be that valuable,” Mart added.
“You might be surprised,” Honey said. “I did a little research in our library and I spoke to Mother on the phone. Some rare, antique porcelain dolls can cost as much as one hundred thousand dollars—maybe even more.”
“Whew,” Dan whistled. “That might be worth following someone for.”
“It’s also something that you’d pay significant import duty on,” Jim noted. “Duty your friend, Mr. Reid, didn’t pay.”
“Oh, no.” Honey put her hands to her face. “We could get into trouble for that.”
“I’m pretty sure that man is doing something wrong.” Trixie leaned her chin on her hands.
“Let’s solve one problem at a time,” Mart advised. “Maybe you gals were followed and maybe it’s Trixie’s excellent but sometimes overactive imagination, but we have no proof about Mr. Reid, and unless one of us sees this redheaded man, we can’t really do anything. So how about we keep our eyes open and go from there?”
Trixie felt her anxiety ease slightly. It wasn’t much, but at least they hadn’t just dismissed her concerns.“Okay. I guess Mart’s right’, she said. “We’ll all keep our eyes open.”
Trixie wanted to do more than that, but when she and Honey got off the bus at Mrs. De Keyser’s, Honey flatly refused to go to the Antique Barn.
“We’re here to help Mrs. De Keyser,” she insisted. “That’s our number one priority. If it doesn’t take too long, and the store is still open, maybe we can stop by then.”
Reluctantly, Trixie nodded, though she did hide a small smile. Honey was funny when she was bossy. Mrs. De Keyser was slowly regaining the use of her arm, so there was less for the two to do. While Trixie vacuumed, Honey did the dishes, and then together they prepared a tuna noodle casserole. Honey was sliding it into the oven and Trixie was wiping down the counter when they heard a cry. They rushed to the hall to find Mrs. De Keyser standing at the open front door.
“Oh, how foolish,” she cried. “I thought I might water one of my geraniums on the porch and Willy got out.”
“We’ll get him back,” Trixie promised, dashing out on to the porch and calling Willy’s name.
“I should get the yard fenced,” the older woman said. “But it’s so expensive.”
“I’m sure he’ll be back in a moment,” Honey assured her.
“I don’t know where he’s run off to,” Trixie said as she stepped back inside. “But I can put my jacket on and go look.”
“No, no, dear. I’m sure he won’t go far. He hasn’t had his dinner yet. Perhaps you could just bundle up those newspapers and magazines and wipe over the bathroom for me before you go.”
The two girls did as they were asked. Just as they were donning their red jackets, there was a scrabbling at the front door and, sure enough, Willy had come home.
“Just look at you, you’re a terrible mess.” His mistress scolded him half-heartedly. She found a brush, but Willy was wriggling around too much for her to groom him. In the end, Honey held the little dog and Trixie brushed him until he was presentable again. They then said their goodbyes and stepped out into the darkening evening.
The following afternoon, Trixie and Honey met up after their last class. “That math test was the worst,” Trixie grumbled. “I may as well have spent last night looking at the new ‘treasures’ Bobby found, ‘cause that studying I did instead was no help at all.”
“You always say that,” Honey consoled. “And always manage to pass. I’m sure you did okay.”
They had left the school building and were making their way along the path that led to the bus stop when they heard their names being called, loudly, by a familiar voice.
“There you are. Miss Wheeler, Miss Belden. I want to talk to you.”
The two teenagers stopped where they were, puzzled by the angry look on Carl Reid’s face. Instinctively, Honey moved closer to Trixie.
“Where’s my doll?” he demanded.
“What?” the two girls stammered as one.
“The doll. It’s missing. You were the only ones who knew about it. And I found this!” He waved a school hall pass with Trixie’s name on it in their faces. “It was near my back door, which was open.”
“I must have dropped it, then,” Trixie said. “You know we’ve been to your shop, Mr. Reid. But neither one of us know anything about your doll. We certainly didn’t take it.”
“Of course we didn’t,” Honey added.
“Who else took it, I’d like to know? You two have been hanging around. Probably part of some teenage gang. Well, I won’t stand for it. If I don’t have my property back in my hands by tomorrow afternoon, I will press charges. You can count on it.” With that he whirled around and stormed away, leaving two shaken girls behind.
“Oh, Trixie, how awful,” Honey said, her face pale.
“It’s ridiculous,” Trixie said, anger surfacing at the unfair accusation.
“I know that, but, Trixie, what if it is our fault?”
“How could it be? I know I didn’t take it, and I know you didn’t take it, and so do you.”
“But what if we led the thief to the doll.” Honey’s voice was barely above a whisper.
“How could we…?” Trixie trailed off as her friend’s meaning became clear. “Oh, no, Honey, no.”
MAIN
Author's Notes: Thanks to Vivian, Deanna, MaryN, Susan and Dana who all gave me reasons to pursue this project. I have actually been to NYC ( where I was lucky enough to spend the afternoon with Mal, Laura P and Pat K. I can hardly believe that was almost six years ago) So, I dedicate this chapter to them and to the gathering together of Jixsters everywhere. Trixie Belden et al belong to Random House and not to me. No profit is being made from these scribblings.
NEXT
