Chapter Eight: Eavesdropper
This story is rated blue star and suitable for all ages.
Trixie recoiled, and Jim and Brian both moved closer to her. “We have permission from Mr. Saunders to be here,” Jim said politely but firmly.
“Sure you do.” The man kept his hand on the doorjamb and made no effort to move.
“He said he’d spoken to the foreperson; is that you? Trixie asked.
The man eyed her suspiciously, but he turned away from the Bob-Whites to call over his shoulder, “Hey, Jake, do you know anything about a bunch of teenagers?”
Another man, around the same age with close-cropped dark hair, appeared behind the first and his expression was far friendlier. “Sure, Gavin, I thought I’d told everyone. They’re putting on some sort of benefit for those hurricane victims in Florida.”
The man called Gavin reluctantly stepped back to allow the Bob-Whites entry into the auditorium.
Here the paint crew was working in earnest. The floors and front and side seats were all covered with heavy paint-stained white cloths. Large sheets of plastic had been taped to the lower walls to cover the woodwork, but there were still plenty of the gracious room’s features visible for the young people to admire.
“Look at those curtains,” Di said, indicating the green velvet draperies that had been drawn back from the stage.
“And the carvings on that balcony.” Dan gazed up at the dress circle admiringly.
“This ceiling is amazing,” Brian added, tilting his head back.
The others laughed. “I think at some stage yesterday at least one of us noticed the exact same things,” Jim said with a grin.
“I’m Jake Summers. It’s a pretty fancy place, isn’t it?” The foreman seemed to be enjoying their enthusiasm and held out his hand as he spoke.
Jim shook it immediately.
“Very fancy and very expensive,” Gavin said, his expression still hostile. “You kids had better be careful. We don’t have time to fix up anything you damage.”
All of the Bob-Whites bristled at this. “I assure you we won’t do anything of the kind.” Brian stepped forward, his voice was calm and steady, and he met the older man’s gaze without blinking.
The others nodded and as the man stalked off, Jake smiled apologetically.
“Don’t mind him, he’s always like that. We don’t have a full crew yet and we’re under a bit of pressure. You may find some us working back a bit, so you kids let us know if we can do something to help.” With another smile and a quick nod, he went back to work.
“Boy, not exactly the Welcome Inn,” Mart said, squeezing the hand Di had placed in his. She didn’t like it when people argued.
Honey didn’t like it either. “I hope he’s not going to make it hard for us to work here,” she said with a hint of worry in her voice.
“We just won’t let him,” Trixie said with a toss of her sandy curls. “We can’t expect everyone to be as terrific as Miss Trask or Mr. Saunders when we’re working on a project, but that’s not going to slow us down.”
“Hear, hear,” Jim said, green eyes smiling approvingly. “And it sounds like we’ve got the foreman on our side, and that’s probably more important. Trix, why don’t you and Honey take Brian and Di down and show them the backstage areas and dressing rooms? Mart and I will take Dan up to the control booth.”
Dan’s dark eyes gleamed. “I sure was hoping I’d get to take a look up there.”
“Well, we all need to be familiar with every part of the place before the show, but for tonight, we’d better keep it short,” Brian said, knowing he’d have plenty of chances to tinker in the control booth. “We’ll meet back in the foyer in fifteen minutes.”
The following day Trixie, Honey and Jim again manned the sign-up table, while Dan and Brian sold the just-printed tickets. Di and Mart had gone to the computer room to work on Mart’s spreadsheet. Just before the bell was due to ring they began packing up, and Trixie’s eyes almost popped when Dan showed her the ticket receipts.
“You’ve already sold, actually taken the money for, over sixty tickets,” she said, blue eyes round.
Honey took the money, zipped it up in a small leather briefcase and handed it to her brother. “We need to be careful with this, don’t we?”
“It’s okay, sis,” Jim replied. “I’ve arranged to leave it at the office until this afternoon, and Dad’s given me the combination to our safe at home. Everything’s going to be fine.”
The rest of the day flew by and the Bob-Whites devoted their after school time to chores and homework. Mr. Lynch called later that evening, while Honey, Brian and Dan were practising their song, to invite them all to dinner at the country club the following night where they would be able to sell tickets.
“Again, we probably don’t all need to go. I’m pretty sure there’s plenty to do around here,” Brian said, always sensible.
“You missed out last time,” Dan protested.
“I’m not keeping score,” Brian returned good-naturedly.
“I guess this is as good a time as any to point out that I desperately need the back garden bed hoed.” Helen Belden came in at that moment carrying a tray of tea and cookies.
Before Brian could offer, Trixie spoke. “I’ll do it, that’s really part of my job,” she said and was rewarded with a warm smile from her mother.
“And I will be your willing co-hoer,” Jim said, “If that’s a word.” He leaned over to give her shoulder a gentle squeeze.
“In some other reality maybe,” Mart said with a laugh.
“Well, I’m going to patrol and have dinner with Uncle Bill and Mr. Maypenny,” Dan said. “I haven’t helped out much for a couple of days, and we’ve just agreed to practise again on Friday night and Saturday.”
“I think you sound wonderful already,” Mrs. Belden said as she passed round cups of tea.
Honey smiled a little nervously. “We do sound sort of all right, don’t we?”
“You sound super,” Trixie said, thinking that the pale, timid girl she’d met on that first day at the Manor House would no more have agreed to sing in public than fly to the moon.
“So I should call Di back and let her know who else is going,” Mart said.
“Okay, my arm’s been twisted. We three will go with the Lynches tomorrow night.” Brian glanced over at Honey who nodded her agreement.
“Don’t forget,” Trixie observed with a grin, “we have a 375-seat theatre, and you need to check on the pre-orders we got last time we were there.”
“I think we can manage that,” Brian said dryly, “but we’d better drop in to the theatre on our way home to check if we can run a rehearsal of available acts on Saturday. That is the plan, isn’t it?”
Trixie nodded. “A few people have already asked if they can see the theatre to help them stage their piece. I have all their numbers so we can call once we know for sure.”
“Yes, but if you don’t all get to your respective homes and beds I imagine you’ll be much too tired for anything tomorrow,” Mrs. Belden said, with a pointed glance at the grandfather clock.
Jim, Honey and Dan made their goodbyes, and the Beldens, still talking as they went up the stairs, retired for the night.
They were now used to the lunchtime sign ups. Some people had started bringing costumes or props from their acts, and Honey shivered slightly after an earnest young man left with his ventriloquist dummy in tow.
“Those things are really creepy,” she said.
Jim laughed but Trixie nodded, agreeing with her friend.
“I thought it was kind of cool,” the former said. “He was actually pretty good. I couldn’t really see his lips moving.”
Honey wrinkled her nose. “You weren’t the one signing them up. Every time I asked him a question, the dummy kept interrupting and telling me to talk to him.”
“But he is the dummy, sis.” Jim grinned.
Honey shrugged unconvinced.
“Mart said he’d have a mock up programme today. I can’t wait to see it.” Trixie said, changing the subject.
Honey nodded. “It’s so much easier with computers, isn’t it? We can add or delete information whenever we like.”
“Well, this is the last day we can use the hall, so I just hope we’re ready to go to the next stage.” Jim glanced down at the sheet in his folder and looked up when both girls started giggling.
“What?” he asked, puzzled.
“I think we’re ready to go to the next stage, aren’t we, Honey?” Trixie’s blue eyes flashed impishly.
“As long as we can do it after school, I really don’t think we have time to run over there during our lunch-breaks,” Honey agreed.
“And provided it isn’t covered in workmen,” Trixie added.
“You two are funny,” Jim said, shaking his head. “Come on, my cute comediennes, let’s head for class.”
In the end, only Jim and Trixie ran in to the theatre that afternoon. They planned to catch a later bus and had sent the other Bob-Whites home in the station wagon.
They split up, hoping to check in with Jake Summers. Jim went into the auditorium, where he would also make sure they had access to lights and sound, while Trixie dashed down to the dressing rooms. She was about to leave after not finding the foreman present when she heard voices and moved toward them.
“Don’t get mad at me. It just happened.”
She couldn’t really hear the reply and instinctively moved closer to where the voices were coming from.
“I can’t know everything.” The first voice whined.
“You were supposed to stay on top of things.”
She could just make out the other speaker now but the voice was still faint and muffled.
“I’ll keep an eye on them. Make sure they don’t get in the way.” This voice was male but didn’t sound familiar.
“You stay away from them. You never know when to keep your mouth shut.” The muffled voice hissed.
“Aw, I can hold my tongue when it matters,” the louder man said.
Footsteps followed and Trixie looked around, a little wildly, and then pulled open a rest room door and quietly closed it behind her. She stood there for quite some time, waiting until she was sure they had gone, and then hurried back towards the foyer. As she rounded the corner, she ran headlong into Gavin Parkes.
“You again,” he snapped. “What are you doing here tonight? I thought you kids weren’t mucking around in here until later in the week.”
Trixie gulped but offered no answer; instead she was desperately trying to work out whether or not he was one of the men she’d just overheard.
“Well?” he said, moving even closer to her. “Cat got your tongue?”
“Working late tonight?” Trixie figured she should keep him talking. After all, if worst came to worst, she could just start yelling.
“Not of all of us have super rich friends to bail us out when things get tough,” he snapped.
Trixie’s temper automatically flared in spite of her fear. She opened her mouth to respond when it suddenly struck her that the man’s response had been both unusual and irrelevant—and how did he know about the Wheelers and Lynches anyway?
“So,” Parkes demanded, “what are you doing nosing around? There’s some expensive stuff here you and your friends had better not—”
“Trixie, where are you?” Jim’s voice sang out, and Trixie gave a sigh of relief.
“I’m here, Jim,” she called, and a few seconds later, Jim appeared. He saw that she wasn’t alone and, noting her expression, hurried over to her.
“I haven’t found Mr. Summers,” he said, placing a strong arm around her shoulders. “We should keep looking.”
Trixie nodded, and Gavin Parkes gave her one last unfriendly look before stalking away.
“Are you all right, Trix?” Jim asked his friend, his handsome young face showing his concern.
She nodded again. “Let’s find Mr. Summers, I’ll explain later.
They eventually found the foreman, still working, in the wings at the side of the stage.
“I was just in here. I called out but I must have missed you,” Jim said.
Jake put the papers he had in his hand down. “Sorry about that. What can I do for you kids?”
Jim explained their plan and after a moment, the foreman nodded his head and stated, “We’re not planning on working Saturday, though I might pop in at some stage. You go ahead with your rehearsal.”
“Thanks,” Trixie said. “You must be pretty dedicated. Most other people have left already, oh, except for Mr. Parkes of course.”
Jim shot her a quick look, but Trixie’s expression was one of pure innocence.
“Gavin’s still here? That’s odd.” Jake Summers’ light eyes narrowed.
“We’ll leave you in peace now.” Jim took Trixie’s arm and led her out of the building.
Trixie tried desperately not to show her disappointment when Jim proved to be perturbed but not unduly impressed by her revelation.
“It’s not very pleasant,” he agreed, “but we already knew that at least one person wasn’t happy about us being here, and he’s obviously made that clear again. I’m happy to speak to him or to Mr. Summers about his attitude though.”
“No, I think that might make it worse,” she said.
“Well, I’m not going to let him keep intimidating you, that’s for sure.” Jim’s green eyes flashed and his jaw was set. “But as for the other, I guess he’s not the only one who doesn’t want a bunch of teenagers hanging around.”
“But I’m not even sure that one of them was GavinParkes.” Trixie frowned.
“And you’re not sure that it wasn’t,” Jim noted, as they sat in the rear of the bus headed back to Glen Road.
“So, you don’t think it’s suspicious at all?” she asked in a small voice.
“Look, I didn’t hear them and you did, but do you honestly think it’s important? It doesn’t sound like they what they did say was all that significant.” Jim was making every effort to appear diplomatic. He took a breath before continuing. “Do you think it’s got something to do with that robbery?”
From the tone of his voice and the look on his face, Trixie wished she could just state flat out that she didn’t think so at all, but her compulsively honest nature wouldn’t allow her to do so, and she remained silent.
“We can ask the other Bob-Whites what they think about your eavesdropping when they get back from dinner,” Jim said after a while.
Trixie shook her head. “Maybe I’ll just talk to Honey,” she said, tamping down her temper at his “eavesdropping” remark.
“That’s probably a good place to start.” He reached for her hand, and she gave him a small smile, her annoyance disappearing at his touch.
“At least we caught up with Mr. Summers, though I still can’t believe I missed him when I checked on the stage, and we can tell the others it’s fine for us to use the theatre all day Saturday.” He smiled back at her as he spoke.
The bus pulled up at Crabapple Farm, and he pulled her to her feet. “Come on, Miss Belden, your fields await.”
In spite of the need she felt to talk to Honey, Trixie forced herself to be patient while the others ran through what had happened after they returned from the country club. Honey had confirmations from all the people who had expressed interest previously.
“Some of them were there,” she explained, with a wide smile. “But even the ones who weren’t had left details of their acts with the manager.”
“And…” Mart handed her the ticket register, and she stared at it in awe.
“Really?” she gasped.
Brian opened the leather satchel he was carrying. Slowly and with a deliberate flourish, he withdrew several rolls of cash.
“Wow,” Trixie said.
“Wow, indeed,” her father echoed as he came into the living room carrying a cup of coffee. “Do you have a place to put that money?”
There was a notable pause then Jim spoke, rubbing his hand through his thick red hair. “I put the money we’ve collected at school so far in Dad’s safe and I know it’s okay there, but still…”
The others nodded and Trixie gave her father a pleading look.
“You can fix this, can’t you, Dad?”
“Ah, the all-powerful father ploy,” Mart nodded to Brian. “It could be effective.”
“Well, our father is a very important person at the First National Sleepyside Bank,” Trixie returned.
“Hmm, well this very important person may be able to help.” Mr. Belden took a seat and held out his hand for the register sheets.
The Bob-Whites quickly took seats around him.
“I can organise an account for the funds that the bank can oversee.”
“Like you did for the pet show,” Trixie said.
“More or less.” Her father smiled at her. “Only this account can be one where people can also donate money directly by coming into the bank.”
“That’s a terrific idea.” Brian nodded his dark head.
“Do you think people will want to do that?” Honey asked
“As a matter of a fact, we’ve already had some enquiries from customers wanting to give to the victims but not sure who to give through,” Mr. Belden told her with a smile.
“You know that could make a huge difference to the amount of money we’re able to raise,” Jim said thoughtfully.
Trixie nodded. “So we should try to find a way to let people know about it then.”
Mart reached for another piece of cake. “You can put a flyer up in the bank, can’t you, Dad?” he asked.
Mr. Belden smiled. “I’m sure we can print off a notice and display it in the bank.”
“And maybe we could put something in the program, too,” Honey suggested. “That way people could keep giving even after the show.”
Jim reached over to ruffle his sister’s golden hair. “That is a good plan,” he said with a grin. “Now, come on, Miss Wheeler, it’s time we went home.”
“Moms, can Honey stay the night?” Trixie asked suddenly.
Mrs. Belden frowned. “It is a school night, dear,” she said. Although Honey sometimes did stay over during the week, especially if her parents and brother were both away, it was generally not looked upon favourably.
Trixie shrugged her disappointment away, and Helen Belden recalled that her normally ebullient daughter had been rather quiet and subdued that evening.
Honey was regarding her friend with an expression that was both curious and anxious.
“Oh, I suppose so. Just this once,” Mrs. Belden said, relenting. “Though one of these days I’m going to wear that phrase out with you two girls.”
“Like about two years ago,” Mart said with a roll of his eyes.
“Helen?” Peter Belden hooked a dark questioning brow in his wife’s direction.
“I’m sure they won’t stay up talking all night, will you, girls?” She smiled across at her daughter who shook her sandy head with a grateful grin.
“No, we promise, don’t we, Honey?”
Honey nodded too, her hazel eyes wide and sincere. “And I promise to help fix breakfast and help Trixie get Bobby ready in the morning.”
“You don’t need to do either of those things to stay over at Crabapple Farm.” Mrs. Belden gave the young girl an affectionate smile.
“But we won’t knock back the offer,” Mart added swiftly, causing everyone to laugh.
Still grinning, Jim said goodnight, and Brian walked his friend out.
Once they had undressed and were ready for bed, Honey faced her best friend squarely.
“Now, Trixie Belden,” she said, “as much as I love spending the night at your house, I know there’s something else going on, so fill me in right now.”
Trixie sighed and scrambled under the covers. Honey followed suit and raised her finely shaped brows.
Carefully, Trixie relayed the snippet of conversation she had overheard that afternoon and about her run-in with the unfriendly Gavin. She took her time and did her best not to sound too excited or dramatic. She didn’t tell Honey about Jim’s reaction because she wanted her friend to draw her own conclusions first.
Honey didn’t respond immediately, instead she sat quietly, her head bent, with a slight frown as she unconsciously chewed on her little finger, sure signs that she was deep in thought. Finally, she looked up and met Trixie’s round blue eyes.
“I’d have been terrified if I’d run into him alone,” she said with a shiver. “And as for that conversation, it sounds pretty strange to me. I honestly can’t see why we should really be that much of a problem to some painters; we’ll hardly even be there at the same time, though if tonight was anything to go by, there will be people there later than we thought.”
Trixie let out her breath and smiled across at her friend. “I’m so glad you think so too,” she hesitated, but knew it was important she tell Honey everything. “Jim doesn’t. I told him what I’d heard and he wasn’t too pleased with Gavin Parkes, but he didn’t think there was anything to the rest of it.”
Honey’s eyes clouded slightly as she digested this piece of information. She looked up to her brother and hated disagreeing with him. She shook her golden head. “I don’t know what it means, but I agree with you, at the very least it’s worth keeping an eye open, or should I say an ear open?”
Trixie laughed. “What does that mean?”
“Well,” Honey said, “you didn’t see them and you couldn’t really hear the second man properly, or do I mean the first man? So we don’t know if he was Gavin, but you did hear the other one and maybe if we get to the theatre when the painters are still there and we talk to them…”
“Honey, you are absolutely brilliant.” Trixie bounded out of her bed and dashed over to fling her arms around the other girl. “I never understand why you insist on calling me the brains of our operation when you constantly come up with such great ideas.”
Honey flushed and hugged her friend back. “Occasionally maybe, but you’ve taught me everything I know.”
“I do try,” Trixie made an effort to appear dignified as she continued, “though some doubt my abilities.”
“But they will live to eat their words.” Honey tried to keep her own face straight.
“That should at least make Mart happy. Let’s face it, he doesn’t care what he eats.” She began to giggle and within seconds Honey had joined her. They were clutching one another when there was a sharp tap at the door.
“Come in,” Trixie gasped.
Brian stuck his dark head around the door as he opened it. “What is with you two?” he demanded, though he kept his voice down. “You’re making enough noise to wake Bobby and if you do that—” He didn’t need to finish his sentence.
Trixie and Honey sobered instantly. “Sorry,” they chorused.
Brian shook his head. “I just don’t want either one of you to land in hot water. After all we don’t want mid-week sleepovers banned, do we?”
Both girls looked horrified at the thought.
“Thanks, Brian. We’ll be quiet now, we promise,” Honey said with an entreating smile.
“I’ll see you both in the morning,” he said with a smile of his own, he gave a wave of his hand was gone.
“Well, he’s back to normal,” Trixie said resignedly, keeping her voice down.
“Yes he is,” Honey said softly with a smile.
“I guess he might have a point.”
“It’s possible.”
“Night, Honey.”
“Goodnight, Trix.”
BSM:MAIN NEXT
Dearest Dana keeps finding some very oddball things in my chapters and never complains at all. All missteps are my own. Many thanks as always.Trixie Belden et al remain the property of Random House. No profit is being made from these scribblings.
