Chapter Three: The Robber Who Got Away
This story is rated blue star and suitable for all ages
Chapter Three: The Robber Who Got Away
The Bob-Whites announcement had been met with a great deal of enthusiasm from the student body. Trixie, somewhat overwhelmed by the response, had to promise to have more details available on Monday.
“I can’t believe how many people want to be involved,” she said as the remaining Bob-Whites climbed out of the station wagon at Crabapple Farm. As Brian was going to check over the car, Jim had suggested they leave it there rather than at the Manor House.
“Well, it’s a really good cause, and I guess there’s a secret performer inside a lot of people,” Brian said, slamming the driver’s door closed.
“And I think everyone wants to contribute something,” Jim added.
“Almost everyone,” Trixie muttered and she and Honey exchanged looks, recalling the nasty remarks of their classmate, Mitch Taylor.
“Some people still seem to think that we do these things to make ourselves look important,” Honey observed, hazel eyes puzzled.
“And we are not going to pay any attention to them whatsoever,” Brian said sensibly.
“Right, we’ve got too much other stuff to do. Like I wonder how Dad went with the theatre? Maybe I should call him at the bank.” Trixie’s eyes narrowed, and her brother reached out to grab her gently by the arm.
“Before we even think about that, we have a load of chores to get through. Dad will be home soon enough. You can ask him at dinner.”
Trixie sighed but made no additional protest.
Jim looked at his sister. “I promised Regan I’d exercise Jupe. Are you coming, too?”
“I thought I’d help Trixie with her chores, if she wants me to that is?” Honey amended her original statement to a question, looking toward her best friend for confirmation. “We’re going to ride first thing in the morning, aren’t we, Trix?”
Trixie nodded. “But you don’t have to help me,” she said, even though she knew it would be easier with Honey’s assistance.
“I don’t mind,” Honey said. “If I help you now, you’ll be finished by dinner and we can spend the evening making more plans.”
Mart shook his sandy head. “Why aren’t you my best friend?” he wondered.
Trixie ignored that and, linking arms with Honey, led her friend into the house.
“I’m going to get changed and mend the chicken coop before Moms has to remind me again,” Brian said
“Fine,” Mart said, his expression resigned. “I’ll mow the lawn.”
“Come back and have dinner with us,” Brian called to Jim as his friend headed up the hill to the Manor House.
“Your parents should start charging Honey and I board,” Jim replied.
“Honey’s already inside earning hers,” Brian said with a laugh.
“Good point.” Jim glanced at his watch. “You know, if we make it a quick ride, we could both go and then I’ll give you a hand with the pen.”
“Tempting,” Brian admitted. “But I can have this done by the time you get back. Tell Regan I’ll exercise Starlight sometime tomorrow.”
Helen Belden greeted her daughter with a hug. “Have we commandeered Miss Wheeler again?” she asked, ruffling Trixie’s sandy curls.
“She insisted on helping,” Trixie said with a giggle. “So you have two willing slaves instead of one.”
“Mm, where should I start?” her mother mused, eyes twinkling. “I need tomatoes and lettuce for dinner tonight, the living room needs to be vacuumed and dusted, though I suppose that could wait until tomorrow, and Bobby needs to get cleaned up before we eat.”
Trixie sighed, but Honey smiled. “We should probably grab the stuff from the garden first, then you can dust and I can vacuum, or the other way around if you like.”
Trixie’s sigh turned into a groan. “Why, oh why, do I have to have such a sensible, responsible best friend?”
“Just unlucky, I guess,” Honey said, straight faced, while Helen Belden smiled at her daughter’s aggrieved expression. Trixie loved to complain about her chores, but rarely failed to do them as she had a strong sense of responsibility.
The two friends hurried out to the Belden garden. The sun had faded from the late afternoon; it was chilly, and Honey buttoned her BWG jacket and shivered. Working together, they quickly gathered the lettuce and tomatoes.
“When, or should I say if, I marry, nothing is coming out of a garden that I have to weed and plant,” Trixie said.
“But Jim likes gardens,” Honey objected, adding another tomato to the basket.
Trixie blushed furiously. “I didn’t say anything about Jim.”
Honey shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t mean tomorrow or anything, just someday. Don’t be mad, Trix,” she added, seeing her friend’s frown.
Trixie responded by giving the other girl a quick hug. “I’m not mad, but that sort of thing is a long way away, people change as they mature. Jim and I might not…” she trailed off, recalling her parents gentle warning to all the young people that they still had plenty of growing up to do.
Honey was obviously recalling the exact same thing, for she returned the hug with an understanding smile. “Jim thinks you’re the most wonderful girl in the world and so do I,” she said.
“We’ll, no-one will think I’m wonderful if we don’t get these things in to Moms.”
With Honey’s help, Trixie not only had the living room clean and tidy but the table set, and Bobby all cleaned up for dinner, by the time first Mart, and then Brian, staggered into the house, tired and dirty.
“That took a little longer than I thought it would,” Brian said, “but I don’t think any foxes will be bothering our chickens for a while.”
“Thank you, dear,” his mother said with an appreciative smile. “Mart beat you to the shower, but he shouldn’t be long. As soon as you’re done, and your father gets home, we’ll sit down to dinner,”
“Great,” Brian said. “Oh, Jim’s coming too.”
“I knew there was a reason I roasted two chickens tonight,” Mrs. Belden said with a chuckle.
Mart appeared then, rubbing his sandy hair with a towel.
“Mart,” his mother admonished. “Not in the kitchen.”
He grinned and backed out of the room.
Trixie frowned after her departing brother. “Typical,” she said, tossing the salad, with a grimace. “Now he doesn’t even have to help get dinner on the table.”
“He did just mow the lawns,” Honey pointed out. “ He hasn’t been sitting around thinking up ways to torture you.”
“Oh, he’s a good multi-tasker,” Trixie said, with a grin. “He can do that standing on his head.”
Brian and his mother exchanged knowing looks. “I’m going to grab that shower now, okay?”
Mrs. Belden nodded, and Brian paused at the door. “Spicy herb gravy?” he queried hopefully.
His mother glanced at her watch. “I still have to puree the berries and whip the cream for dessert.”
“I’ll make the gravy,” Honey offered. “I’m pretty sure I remember how.”
Brian blew her a kiss. “You’re an angel, Honey,” he said and hurried out.
Eight-year-old Bobby was in a very good mood, “Two of my favourite things,” he said happily, “roast chicken and Honey. Can Honey stay the night, Moms?”
“If she wants to,” Mrs. Belden replied with a smile.
Honey glanced across at her brother. “It sounds lovely, but it leaves Jim all alone.”
Jim grinned. “I have a heap of things I need to do. I’ll barely even notice you’re gone.”
Trixie and Bobby both beamed as Honey accepted the invitation.
“I was just saying to Brian that you and I should start paying board,” Jim added with a wink.
“I hereby declare this gravy to be this week’s payment,” Brian said, helping himself to more.
Trixie had been dying to speak to her father ever since he’d walked in the door, but with superhuman effort she’d restrained herself. Now that dinner was well underway and her father was looking happy and relaxed, it was time to speak.
“Did you have any luck today, Dad?” she asked, endeavouring to keep her enquiry casual.
Peter Belden paused and lowered his fork back on to his plate, “Luck, let me see. Well, all of our cashiers balanced to the cent, so that was lucky. The weather was fine, and they did say it might rain…”
“Dad!” Trixie wailed.
Her father smiled and relented. “As a matter of a fact, I spoke to Ian Saunders, the head of the conglomerate working on the theatre, and he said...” he paused again to sample his mashed potato.
Trixie held her tongue but her expression was imploring and the other Bob-Whites looked equally anxious.
“He said,” Mr. Belden continued, “that they’d be happy to offer the theatre as a venue for your show, so long as you don’t mind working around a paint crew they’ll have in there for the next week or so.”
The Bob-Whites let out a collective whoop of joy, and Trixie wiped imaginary sweat from her brow.
“Boy, is that good news,” she said. “Now we can really get going.”
“Well, he’s happy to make a time over the weekend for you to have access to the building. I just need to check in with him in the morning,” her father added.
“I can’t believe you’ll be going back inside that place,” Mrs. Belden said.
“Oh, that’s right, you worked there, didn’t you, Dad?” Trixie poured more water for Bobby.
Her father nodded. “About ten years ago; we moved just after the robbery.”
“Robbery,” Trixie and Honey said together, while Bobby’s eyes rounded like saucers.
“Until you mentioned it last night, I’d sort of forgotten about that,” Brian said, with a shake of his head.
“I wish I could.” Helen Belden frowned. “That was not a day I care to remember.” She glanced over at her wide-eyed youngest son. “Bobby, would you mind running out and feeding Reddy? Mart forgot, and that dog has been barking like crazy.”
“In the middle of dinner?” Bobby asked, so stunned by this completely unexpected request that he was distracted from the current topic of conversation.
“It doesn’t seem fair that he has to wait,” his mother answered serenely.
“What about my chicken?” he asked, frowning suspiciously at Mart.
“I’ll protect it,” Honey offered, smiling, and satisfied, Bobby scooted out from the table and dashed out, yelling for his dog.
They all turned to Mr. Belden. “It’s a long time ago, and I wasn’t hurt,” he said and smiled down the table at his wife. “And Larry Gomez eventually recovered.”
“Recovered from what?” Trixie asked, her dinner all but forgotten.
“ I remember now. He was shot, wasn’t he, Dad?” Brian said. “He was a security guard at the bank who tried to stop the robbery.”
His mother and father both smiled at him and the latter said, “I can’t believe you remember that. You were only seven, seven-and-a-half.”
“It was a pretty hot topic for show and tell,” Brian admitted with a wry grin.
“Did they catch them?” Trixie asked.
“Two of them were apprehended and sent to prison, but the third escaped, presumably with the proceeds.”
“Presumably?” Trixie and Honey said, their eyes widening.
Jim and Brian grinned at one another across the table. They recognised the warning signs.
Mart’s own eyes were rolling, “No, Dad, please don’t send them on one of their buried treasure, lost valuables, missing money rants?” he begged.
Trixie made a face and even Honey wrinkled her nose at him, but Peter Belden merely smiled.
“I should have said, they never caught up with the third gang member, but everything pointed to him leaving the country with the money and the contents of most of the safe deposit boxes. Anyway,” he continued, “we should have been in the process of moving when the robbery took place, but we ended up a week behind schedule. After the robbery, the old bank closed and when we re-opened we were in the building we’re in today.”
“That’s really interesting, isn’t it, Honey?” future detective Trixie said.
Honey nodded, hazel eyes wide.
Mart merely piled more chicken onto his plate. Using her own fork, Honey promptly stabbed a drumstick and deposited it on Bobby’s plate instead. Mart glared at her, but the others all laughed.
Trixie continued to ignore her food and gave her father an intense stare.
“It’s a long time ago. I almost never think of it now,” Mr. Belden said, seeing that his daughter seemed to expect more.
“Pass the salad please,” Brian said, breaking the silence that followed his father’s remark.
Trixie groaned and threw him a look of despair. “You have no interest in mystery or adventure at all.”
“No,” her brother agreed, “just an interest in salad at the moment.” He held out his hand and Trixie, with a melodramatic sigh, passed the bowl to him, just as Bobby arrived back at the dinner table.
The phone rang as they were finishing dessert and Mart dashed off to answer it.
Trixie began to gather plates and Honey grabbed the now empty serving bowls and headed for the kitchen.
Brian followed his sister into the kitchen and proceeded to scrape the chicken carcasses into the garbage disposal.
“Jim’s reading with Bobby, so I’ll wash,” he offered. “You girls can dry.”
The three teenagers were soon hard at work, and a few minutes later Mart joined them.
“Just in time to offer no help whatsoever,” Trixie said, making a face at him,
“You might not feel that way when I give you my news, “ her brother said.
“So talk already,” Brian said, waving a soapy arm, “or we will find some use for your questionable talents.”
“That was Di, “ Mart explained. “Her folks are going to the country club for dinner tomorrow night.”
“Someone call the Sleepyside Sun,” Trixie said sarcastically. “That’s not news, the Lynches eat there all the time.”
“Exactly,” Mart said with a hint of smugness, “and tomorrow night they have requested the company of all of the Bob-Whites, where we will be given the opportunity to inform the club members and their families of our magnificent show.”
“That’s wonderful,” Honey said, grabbing Brian’s arm excitedly as she spoke. “A lot of the members there are from surrounding areas, and we can reach a whole new group of people.”
Trixie nodded, “You’re right, Honey, and now we can announce both the venue and the date.”
By the time the girls had said goodnight to Bobby, who loved to tell them he was too old to be tucked in, but was equally unwilling to go to sleep until they stopped by his room, Mart had filled Jim and his parents in on the latest news.
“Jim tells us you’ve had a lot of interest already,” Peter Belden said, handing his daughter a cup of hot chocolate.
Trixie nodded. “From kids in the school orchestra, from teachers wanting to help—everyone seems really interested.”
“It’s an important cause,” her mother said. “The footage they showed today was just terrible.”
“I just wish we could get money to them straight away,” Trixie sighed.
Her father sat back in his armchair. “After a disaster like this, money needs to come through constantly. It’s very important that funds continue to filter through as the communities rebuild.”
“That’s why events like yours are so important,” Mrs. Belden added.
“And people a whole lot more famous than we could ever hope to be are following Trixie’s lead and setting up shows like this, to be televised and everything,” Mart said.
“What you young people are doing is wonderful,” his father complimented his children and their friends. “If every community did likewise the results would be phenomenal.”
The Bob-Whites looked embarrassed but grateful at these words of praise.
“I just don’t want any of you to neglect your studies,” Mr. Belden added.
For the rest of the evening they discussed, planned and occasionally argued. Around nine-thirty, Trixie and Honey, saying that they planned to get up early, excused themselves and went upstairs. Once they were comfortably settled in their beds, Trixie reached over to switch off the light.
“I know Dad meant me when he said about neglecting studies.” She flung herself down onto her pillow.
“He meant me, too,” Honey responded. “I know your dad and my dad have talked about our math issue after we both kind of bombed on that last test.”
“We’d be better off if we were like Di. I don’t know what made us think we should try for an advanced maths stream next year,” Trixie said.
“Well, Brian and Jim both say that good grades in some maths and science subjects will help us get into a good college, and chemistry and physics are completely beyond me so…” Honey wrinkled her nose.
"At least your math issue is pretty much confined to algebra. You’ve been doing fine up until now,” Trixie said. “Mine run the gamut.”
Honey laughed. “But on the plus side, your vocabulary is much better than it used to be.”
“What do you think about holding the benefit on the site of a former robbery?” Trixie asked, keeping her voice casual as she changed the subject.
Honey shrugged. “I guess there’s nothing to it, like your Dad said. It’s all in the past.”
“Still,” Trixie said, “one of the gang did get away, and they never did find the money or the stuff from the safe deposit boxes. So it won’t hurt if we keep our eyes open?”
“That’s true,” Honey agreed, slowly. “I don’t see how it could.”
“After all,” Trixie rolled over, “we can improve our algebra, run a benefit show and keep our eyes open all at the same time. No matter what Mart says.”
word count: 2960
BSM MAIN NEXT
Author's notes: Thanks as always, to Dana for her amazing editing— she refines and repairs, and always improves. Remaining errors and things askew are mine and mine alone. Thanks also to those who read my story. Your comments and responses mean more than I can say.
Trixie Belden et al belong to Random House and not to me. No profit is being made from these scribblings
The Bob-Whites announcement had been met with a great deal of enthusiasm from the student body. Trixie, somewhat overwhelmed by the response, had to promise to have more details available on Monday.
“I can’t believe how many people want to be involved,” she said as the remaining Bob-Whites climbed out of the station wagon at Crabapple Farm. As Brian was going to check over the car, Jim had suggested they leave it there rather than at the Manor House.
“Well, it’s a really good cause, and I guess there’s a secret performer inside a lot of people,” Brian said, slamming the driver’s door closed.
“And I think everyone wants to contribute something,” Jim added.
“Almost everyone,” Trixie muttered and she and Honey exchanged looks, recalling the nasty remarks of their classmate, Mitch Taylor.
“Some people still seem to think that we do these things to make ourselves look important,” Honey observed, hazel eyes puzzled.
“And we are not going to pay any attention to them whatsoever,” Brian said sensibly.
“Right, we’ve got too much other stuff to do. Like I wonder how Dad went with the theatre? Maybe I should call him at the bank.” Trixie’s eyes narrowed, and her brother reached out to grab her gently by the arm.
“Before we even think about that, we have a load of chores to get through. Dad will be home soon enough. You can ask him at dinner.”
Trixie sighed but made no additional protest.
Jim looked at his sister. “I promised Regan I’d exercise Jupe. Are you coming, too?”
“I thought I’d help Trixie with her chores, if she wants me to that is?” Honey amended her original statement to a question, looking toward her best friend for confirmation. “We’re going to ride first thing in the morning, aren’t we, Trix?”
Trixie nodded. “But you don’t have to help me,” she said, even though she knew it would be easier with Honey’s assistance.
“I don’t mind,” Honey said. “If I help you now, you’ll be finished by dinner and we can spend the evening making more plans.”
Mart shook his sandy head. “Why aren’t you my best friend?” he wondered.
Trixie ignored that and, linking arms with Honey, led her friend into the house.
“I’m going to get changed and mend the chicken coop before Moms has to remind me again,” Brian said
“Fine,” Mart said, his expression resigned. “I’ll mow the lawn.”
“Come back and have dinner with us,” Brian called to Jim as his friend headed up the hill to the Manor House.
“Your parents should start charging Honey and I board,” Jim replied.
“Honey’s already inside earning hers,” Brian said with a laugh.
“Good point.” Jim glanced at his watch. “You know, if we make it a quick ride, we could both go and then I’ll give you a hand with the pen.”
“Tempting,” Brian admitted. “But I can have this done by the time you get back. Tell Regan I’ll exercise Starlight sometime tomorrow.”
Helen Belden greeted her daughter with a hug. “Have we commandeered Miss Wheeler again?” she asked, ruffling Trixie’s sandy curls.
“She insisted on helping,” Trixie said with a giggle. “So you have two willing slaves instead of one.”
“Mm, where should I start?” her mother mused, eyes twinkling. “I need tomatoes and lettuce for dinner tonight, the living room needs to be vacuumed and dusted, though I suppose that could wait until tomorrow, and Bobby needs to get cleaned up before we eat.”
Trixie sighed, but Honey smiled. “We should probably grab the stuff from the garden first, then you can dust and I can vacuum, or the other way around if you like.”
Trixie’s sigh turned into a groan. “Why, oh why, do I have to have such a sensible, responsible best friend?”
“Just unlucky, I guess,” Honey said, straight faced, while Helen Belden smiled at her daughter’s aggrieved expression. Trixie loved to complain about her chores, but rarely failed to do them as she had a strong sense of responsibility.
The two friends hurried out to the Belden garden. The sun had faded from the late afternoon; it was chilly, and Honey buttoned her BWG jacket and shivered. Working together, they quickly gathered the lettuce and tomatoes.
“When, or should I say if, I marry, nothing is coming out of a garden that I have to weed and plant,” Trixie said.
“But Jim likes gardens,” Honey objected, adding another tomato to the basket.
Trixie blushed furiously. “I didn’t say anything about Jim.”
Honey shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t mean tomorrow or anything, just someday. Don’t be mad, Trix,” she added, seeing her friend’s frown.
Trixie responded by giving the other girl a quick hug. “I’m not mad, but that sort of thing is a long way away, people change as they mature. Jim and I might not…” she trailed off, recalling her parents gentle warning to all the young people that they still had plenty of growing up to do.
Honey was obviously recalling the exact same thing, for she returned the hug with an understanding smile. “Jim thinks you’re the most wonderful girl in the world and so do I,” she said.
“We’ll, no-one will think I’m wonderful if we don’t get these things in to Moms.”
With Honey’s help, Trixie not only had the living room clean and tidy but the table set, and Bobby all cleaned up for dinner, by the time first Mart, and then Brian, staggered into the house, tired and dirty.
“That took a little longer than I thought it would,” Brian said, “but I don’t think any foxes will be bothering our chickens for a while.”
“Thank you, dear,” his mother said with an appreciative smile. “Mart beat you to the shower, but he shouldn’t be long. As soon as you’re done, and your father gets home, we’ll sit down to dinner,”
“Great,” Brian said. “Oh, Jim’s coming too.”
“I knew there was a reason I roasted two chickens tonight,” Mrs. Belden said with a chuckle.
Mart appeared then, rubbing his sandy hair with a towel.
“Mart,” his mother admonished. “Not in the kitchen.”
He grinned and backed out of the room.
Trixie frowned after her departing brother. “Typical,” she said, tossing the salad, with a grimace. “Now he doesn’t even have to help get dinner on the table.”
“He did just mow the lawns,” Honey pointed out. “ He hasn’t been sitting around thinking up ways to torture you.”
“Oh, he’s a good multi-tasker,” Trixie said, with a grin. “He can do that standing on his head.”
Brian and his mother exchanged knowing looks. “I’m going to grab that shower now, okay?”
Mrs. Belden nodded, and Brian paused at the door. “Spicy herb gravy?” he queried hopefully.
His mother glanced at her watch. “I still have to puree the berries and whip the cream for dessert.”
“I’ll make the gravy,” Honey offered. “I’m pretty sure I remember how.”
Brian blew her a kiss. “You’re an angel, Honey,” he said and hurried out.
Eight-year-old Bobby was in a very good mood, “Two of my favourite things,” he said happily, “roast chicken and Honey. Can Honey stay the night, Moms?”
“If she wants to,” Mrs. Belden replied with a smile.
Honey glanced across at her brother. “It sounds lovely, but it leaves Jim all alone.”
Jim grinned. “I have a heap of things I need to do. I’ll barely even notice you’re gone.”
Trixie and Bobby both beamed as Honey accepted the invitation.
“I was just saying to Brian that you and I should start paying board,” Jim added with a wink.
“I hereby declare this gravy to be this week’s payment,” Brian said, helping himself to more.
Trixie had been dying to speak to her father ever since he’d walked in the door, but with superhuman effort she’d restrained herself. Now that dinner was well underway and her father was looking happy and relaxed, it was time to speak.
“Did you have any luck today, Dad?” she asked, endeavouring to keep her enquiry casual.
Peter Belden paused and lowered his fork back on to his plate, “Luck, let me see. Well, all of our cashiers balanced to the cent, so that was lucky. The weather was fine, and they did say it might rain…”
“Dad!” Trixie wailed.
Her father smiled and relented. “As a matter of a fact, I spoke to Ian Saunders, the head of the conglomerate working on the theatre, and he said...” he paused again to sample his mashed potato.
Trixie held her tongue but her expression was imploring and the other Bob-Whites looked equally anxious.
“He said,” Mr. Belden continued, “that they’d be happy to offer the theatre as a venue for your show, so long as you don’t mind working around a paint crew they’ll have in there for the next week or so.”
The Bob-Whites let out a collective whoop of joy, and Trixie wiped imaginary sweat from her brow.
“Boy, is that good news,” she said. “Now we can really get going.”
“Well, he’s happy to make a time over the weekend for you to have access to the building. I just need to check in with him in the morning,” her father added.
“I can’t believe you’ll be going back inside that place,” Mrs. Belden said.
“Oh, that’s right, you worked there, didn’t you, Dad?” Trixie poured more water for Bobby.
Her father nodded. “About ten years ago; we moved just after the robbery.”
“Robbery,” Trixie and Honey said together, while Bobby’s eyes rounded like saucers.
“Until you mentioned it last night, I’d sort of forgotten about that,” Brian said, with a shake of his head.
“I wish I could.” Helen Belden frowned. “That was not a day I care to remember.” She glanced over at her wide-eyed youngest son. “Bobby, would you mind running out and feeding Reddy? Mart forgot, and that dog has been barking like crazy.”
“In the middle of dinner?” Bobby asked, so stunned by this completely unexpected request that he was distracted from the current topic of conversation.
“It doesn’t seem fair that he has to wait,” his mother answered serenely.
“What about my chicken?” he asked, frowning suspiciously at Mart.
“I’ll protect it,” Honey offered, smiling, and satisfied, Bobby scooted out from the table and dashed out, yelling for his dog.
They all turned to Mr. Belden. “It’s a long time ago, and I wasn’t hurt,” he said and smiled down the table at his wife. “And Larry Gomez eventually recovered.”
“Recovered from what?” Trixie asked, her dinner all but forgotten.
“ I remember now. He was shot, wasn’t he, Dad?” Brian said. “He was a security guard at the bank who tried to stop the robbery.”
His mother and father both smiled at him and the latter said, “I can’t believe you remember that. You were only seven, seven-and-a-half.”
“It was a pretty hot topic for show and tell,” Brian admitted with a wry grin.
“Did they catch them?” Trixie asked.
“Two of them were apprehended and sent to prison, but the third escaped, presumably with the proceeds.”
“Presumably?” Trixie and Honey said, their eyes widening.
Jim and Brian grinned at one another across the table. They recognised the warning signs.
Mart’s own eyes were rolling, “No, Dad, please don’t send them on one of their buried treasure, lost valuables, missing money rants?” he begged.
Trixie made a face and even Honey wrinkled her nose at him, but Peter Belden merely smiled.
“I should have said, they never caught up with the third gang member, but everything pointed to him leaving the country with the money and the contents of most of the safe deposit boxes. Anyway,” he continued, “we should have been in the process of moving when the robbery took place, but we ended up a week behind schedule. After the robbery, the old bank closed and when we re-opened we were in the building we’re in today.”
“That’s really interesting, isn’t it, Honey?” future detective Trixie said.
Honey nodded, hazel eyes wide.
Mart merely piled more chicken onto his plate. Using her own fork, Honey promptly stabbed a drumstick and deposited it on Bobby’s plate instead. Mart glared at her, but the others all laughed.
Trixie continued to ignore her food and gave her father an intense stare.
“It’s a long time ago. I almost never think of it now,” Mr. Belden said, seeing that his daughter seemed to expect more.
“Pass the salad please,” Brian said, breaking the silence that followed his father’s remark.
Trixie groaned and threw him a look of despair. “You have no interest in mystery or adventure at all.”
“No,” her brother agreed, “just an interest in salad at the moment.” He held out his hand and Trixie, with a melodramatic sigh, passed the bowl to him, just as Bobby arrived back at the dinner table.
The phone rang as they were finishing dessert and Mart dashed off to answer it.
Trixie began to gather plates and Honey grabbed the now empty serving bowls and headed for the kitchen.
Brian followed his sister into the kitchen and proceeded to scrape the chicken carcasses into the garbage disposal.
“Jim’s reading with Bobby, so I’ll wash,” he offered. “You girls can dry.”
The three teenagers were soon hard at work, and a few minutes later Mart joined them.
“Just in time to offer no help whatsoever,” Trixie said, making a face at him,
“You might not feel that way when I give you my news, “ her brother said.
“So talk already,” Brian said, waving a soapy arm, “or we will find some use for your questionable talents.”
“That was Di, “ Mart explained. “Her folks are going to the country club for dinner tomorrow night.”
“Someone call the Sleepyside Sun,” Trixie said sarcastically. “That’s not news, the Lynches eat there all the time.”
“Exactly,” Mart said with a hint of smugness, “and tomorrow night they have requested the company of all of the Bob-Whites, where we will be given the opportunity to inform the club members and their families of our magnificent show.”
“That’s wonderful,” Honey said, grabbing Brian’s arm excitedly as she spoke. “A lot of the members there are from surrounding areas, and we can reach a whole new group of people.”
Trixie nodded, “You’re right, Honey, and now we can announce both the venue and the date.”
By the time the girls had said goodnight to Bobby, who loved to tell them he was too old to be tucked in, but was equally unwilling to go to sleep until they stopped by his room, Mart had filled Jim and his parents in on the latest news.
“Jim tells us you’ve had a lot of interest already,” Peter Belden said, handing his daughter a cup of hot chocolate.
Trixie nodded. “From kids in the school orchestra, from teachers wanting to help—everyone seems really interested.”
“It’s an important cause,” her mother said. “The footage they showed today was just terrible.”
“I just wish we could get money to them straight away,” Trixie sighed.
Her father sat back in his armchair. “After a disaster like this, money needs to come through constantly. It’s very important that funds continue to filter through as the communities rebuild.”
“That’s why events like yours are so important,” Mrs. Belden added.
“And people a whole lot more famous than we could ever hope to be are following Trixie’s lead and setting up shows like this, to be televised and everything,” Mart said.
“What you young people are doing is wonderful,” his father complimented his children and their friends. “If every community did likewise the results would be phenomenal.”
The Bob-Whites looked embarrassed but grateful at these words of praise.
“I just don’t want any of you to neglect your studies,” Mr. Belden added.
For the rest of the evening they discussed, planned and occasionally argued. Around nine-thirty, Trixie and Honey, saying that they planned to get up early, excused themselves and went upstairs. Once they were comfortably settled in their beds, Trixie reached over to switch off the light.
“I know Dad meant me when he said about neglecting studies.” She flung herself down onto her pillow.
“He meant me, too,” Honey responded. “I know your dad and my dad have talked about our math issue after we both kind of bombed on that last test.”
“We’d be better off if we were like Di. I don’t know what made us think we should try for an advanced maths stream next year,” Trixie said.
“Well, Brian and Jim both say that good grades in some maths and science subjects will help us get into a good college, and chemistry and physics are completely beyond me so…” Honey wrinkled her nose.
"At least your math issue is pretty much confined to algebra. You’ve been doing fine up until now,” Trixie said. “Mine run the gamut.”
Honey laughed. “But on the plus side, your vocabulary is much better than it used to be.”
“What do you think about holding the benefit on the site of a former robbery?” Trixie asked, keeping her voice casual as she changed the subject.
Honey shrugged. “I guess there’s nothing to it, like your Dad said. It’s all in the past.”
“Still,” Trixie said, “one of the gang did get away, and they never did find the money or the stuff from the safe deposit boxes. So it won’t hurt if we keep our eyes open?”
“That’s true,” Honey agreed, slowly. “I don’t see how it could.”
“After all,” Trixie rolled over, “we can improve our algebra, run a benefit show and keep our eyes open all at the same time. No matter what Mart says.”
word count: 2960
BSM MAIN NEXT
Author's notes: Thanks as always, to Dana for her amazing editing— she refines and repairs, and always improves. Remaining errors and things askew are mine and mine alone. Thanks also to those who read my story. Your comments and responses mean more than I can say.
Trixie Belden et al belong to Random House and not to me. No profit is being made from these scribblings
