The Trouble with Antonia

by Janice

Author’s notes: You don’t need to have read my other stories to understand this one. It takes place in the same universe, though. For a reminder of all the things which have happened already, visit the Reminder Page.

Thank you, as always, to my great editor Grey. This story would be a lot more lame if it wasn’t for you!

September 1990

Trixie sat in her dorm room chewing the end of her pen and staring unseeingly at the ceiling. On the desk in front of her lay a sheet of paper with the words ‘Dear Moms, Dad and Bobby,’ written at the top. Glancing at her watch, she sighed deeply and lowered her head onto the desk.

“Shall I dictate for you?” asked her new roommate sarcastically. “How about ‘Dear Mommy, School is too hard. Please come and get me. Love, Your Little Sugar-plum.’”

“ ‘P.S. My roommate is a complete nut-case.’” finished Trixie, smiling. “Thanks, but I’ll pass.”

“Suit yourself,” said the other girl, going back to her study.

Eighteen-year-old Trixie was in her first week of classes at Hunter College in Manhattan, part of the City University of New York. Her roommate, Antonia, was also eighteen and had grown up in Peekskill, not far from Trixie’s own home town. She was tall and slim with long dark hair and piercing blue eyes.

Trixie swiped at a stray curl which had come loose from her ponytail and started to write.

‘How are you all? I’m settling in here just fine. My classes have all been really interesting so far and I think I’ll enjoy this course.’ She paused, thinking. It seemed like months since she had seen her family and yet she could hardly find anything to say.

‘Antonia is lots of fun and I don’t think we’ll have any trouble sharing a room. And I’m already in a study group so I’m meeting lots of new people.’ Once she got started Trixie found that she had plenty to say and soon the page was filled with descriptions of the buildings she had been in, the people she had met and the food she had eaten.

She signed the letter, folded it and sealed it into the envelope she had prepared.

“I’m going out for a while,” she told Antonia. “See you later.”

Letter in hand, Trixie walked quickly downstairs to the post box and, having deposited her letter, continued out the front door to the place she had agreed to meet Jim. Once outside she saw him casually leaning against the building, well out of the way of the students rushing in and out.

“Right on time,” he said with a smile.

The pair made their way to a nearby pizza parlor and settled themselves into a booth.

“I’m sure glad to have someone I know close by,” said Trixie. “I wish some of the others were closer.”

“At least there are five of us in the same state,” said Jim, laughing. “Even though Brian’s at almost the furthest part of it in Buffalo, things could be much worse.”

“I know,” said Trixie, “but having Brian, Mart and Dan upstate and all in separate places is only part of the problem. Di is so far away and I don’t even know where Honey is.”

“Di was lucky to get into UCLA,” said Jim, seeming to evade the subject.

“I miss Honey the most though,” Trixie confided. “Don’t you have any clue where she is?”

“No, and I don’t think she wants me to know.”

With a sigh Trixie dropped the subject and talked of happier things.

When she arrived back at her room Antonia was waiting for her, apparently excited about something.

“Is your boyfriend still here?” she asked anxiously.

“I don’t-”

“Whatever,” Antonia interrupted. “That guy you were with. Is he still here?”

“I guess I could catch him.” Antonia nodded and in a few minutes, Trixie had returned with Jim in tow.

“Sorry about that,” Antonia said, after the introductions were done. “It’s just that I got a call from my boyfriend. We had plans for this evening with two of our friends and they’ve had to cancel. Would the two of you be interested? It’s dinner and a show.”

Trixie looked at Jim and smiled. “Yes,” he said. “We’d love to. Thanks.”

Antonia gave the details and hurried Jim away to get ready. “We haven’t got much time,” she said to Trixie when he’d left. “Do you have something to wear?”

“Oh, woe,” said Trixie. “I suppose I’ll have to wear a dress. Help me choose something?”

Antonia threw open Trixie’s closet and took stock of the few dresses there. “Hmm,” she said. “Not much to choose from.” She pulled out a form-fitting black dress. “This one, I think.”

“There’s a jacket that goes with it,” Trixie said, pulling it out too.

“Not tonight,” her roommate said with a smile. “If that guy’s not your boyfriend, we’re gonna make him wonder why he isn’t. Now, you’d better get into the shower.”

Trixie gulped and did as she was told.

Half an hour later, she stood in front of the mirror, wondering how she had gotten into this situation. Antonia was busy arranging her unruly curls and fastening them in place with dozens of bobby pins.

“It really needs the jacket,” Trixie said, eyeing the cleavage revealed.

“It does not. Besides, it’s a warm night.”

“Well, maybe some sort of scarf-”

Antonia burst out laughing. “Relax, will you? You look fine.”

“I guess,” said Trixie, adding a final coat of mascara just the way Diana had taught her.

“Here, borrow some of my lipstick,” her new friend offered. “Yours is too pale.” She rummaged through a massive pile and pulled out a gold case. “This should be perfect.”

Trixie did as she was told and applied the darker shade. She stepped into her high heeled shoes and stood back to admire the effect.

That can’t be me, she thought. I couldn’t possibly look so- so- grown up!

“Time to go,” Antonia prompted. The two girls grabbed their handbags and were off.

When they reached the lobby, Jim and Antonia’s boyfriend Zach were waiting. The two had obviously introduced themselves and were quietly conversing.

“We’re ready,” Antonia called and the two men turned towards them.

Trixie barely noticed the introductions that her friend made. Her whole attention was focused on Jim, whose face clearly displayed his amazement at her appearance. She entirely missed the knowing look which passed between Antonia and Zach.

“Well, let’s get going,” said Zach.

Snapping to attention, Trixie noticed him for the first time. He was tall and well-built, very good-looking and immaculately dressed. With a sinking heart, she decided that she would have to be on her best behaviour for the whole evening. More formal than dinners at the Manor House, she thought with a little sigh.

During the cab ride to the restaurant, Trixie sat back and listened to the conversation. Jim and Zach had discovered that they had some classes in common and were busy exchanging anecdotes. Every now and then Jim’s eyes travelled to her and Trixie felt herself blush every time.

They stepped out in front of a restaurant, its stylish interior still fresh and new, and Trixie felt herself freeze. I can’t afford this, she thought, stunned. What am I going to do now?

“My treat,” said Zach, smiling broadly. “The whole evening - don’t worry about a thing.”

“Oh, just tell them,” Antonia demanded of him. Trixie and Jim both looked decidedly uncomfortable. “If you don’t, I will.”

“My uncle got me a table here for tonight,” he said, reluctantly. “The food’s on him, but we won’t get much choice of what it is.”

“That’s okay,” said Trixie shakily. “I’ll be glad of whatever they give me.”

Zach ushered the group forward and they were soon seated at an elegantly-set table near the grand piano. Trixie felt enormously relieved when she realised that her seat was against the wall. The little black dress, which had seemed so formal in her dorm room, now seemed rather shabby.

“It actually opens tomorrow, I think,” Antonia explained quietly. “Tonight’s kind of a cross between a dress rehearsal and a private party. We’ll have to tell them what we thought before we leave.”

“I think they’ll probably just bring four different entrees and four different main courses,” her boyfriend continued. “If nobody minds, we could all have a taste of each.”

“That sounds like fun,” Trixie replied, gaining enthusiasm for the evening. A moment later she continued, “It all looks divine; almost too good to eat.”

The entree which had just been set down in front of her was more like a piece of art than something to eat. Thin strands of vegetable curled over the top and two different sauces were artistically swirled around a perfectly arranged pile of food. Trixie was not entirely sure what it was, but it looked beautiful nonetheless.

Jim’s plate was piled with spear-shapes, arranged like a teepee, while Antonia’s held something which looked a little like a bird’s nest. Zach had been served something which was at least recognisable as food: a salad complete with whole baby octopus.

“Oh, I’m glad I didn’t get that one,” Antonia giggled, pointing to them. “I couldn’t eat something so icky!”

“I could,” replied Zach, putting one in his mouth. “Yum!”

Soon the four were busy eating and trading mouthfuls. They all agreed that the food was delicious as well as beautiful. Jim’s dish, marinated chicken in an Asian-style dressing, was voted to be the best.

Just as the entree plates were being cleared away a rather distinguished-looking man approached them.

“Well, well,” he said cheerfully. “How is everything?”

“Just great, Uncle Ingram” said Zach. “I think you’re on a winner with this one. By the way, this is Antonia’s roommate, Trixie Belden and her friend Jim Frayne. My uncle, Ingram Westcourt-Thorpe.”

“Pleased to meet you both,” he replied. “I’ll be back to see you before you leave. I’d better get out of the way, because here are your meals.”

Just as the entrees had been, the main meals were beautifully presented. To Trixie’s mind, they were just as mysterious since she could not identify any but the seafood platter set in front of Jim.

“Say, I’ve got the best on the table,” he said, obviously pleased. “I don’t know that I want to share.”

“Jim!” Trixie cried, outraged. “That’s easily enough for two!”

“I’m joking, Trixie,” he said with a smile. “Help yourself, everyone. You heard the lady, there’s far too much for just me here.”

After the initial interest in their food, conversation turned to how the two couples had met.

“We met on the side of the road, actually,” Zach said, smiling at Antonia. “My car broke down on some quiet country road and she was the first person to come along. And things only got better from there.”

“How about you two?” Antonia prompted. She observed the looks which passed between them and was intrigued. “Is there a story there?”

“Is there ever,” said Jim with a laugh. “You’d better tell it, Trixie.”

By the time she had finished her meal, Trixie felt very full. Setting down her fork, she looked around the table at the others. I really like Antonia, she decided. It’s going to be a lot of fun sharing with her. And Zach is nice too, she added to herself.

“Is everyone finished?” Zach asked. “We’d better be leaving soon or we’ll be late for the show.”

Seeing that there was general agreement, Zach signalled to his uncle and the older man came over quickly.

“We’re about ready to leave, Uncle Ingram,” he said. “Thanks for inviting us. The food’s been fabulous.”

All around the table there was agreement with his statement.

“Well, thank you all very much,” his uncle said, pleased. He quickly pulled up a chair and seated himself at their table. “Now, before you go you need to hold up your end of the bargain.”

“If we have to,” Zach said, smiling. “What do you need to know?”

In a few minutes the group had given opinions on everything from the garnishes on their dishes to the head waiter’s socks. Mr. Westcourt-Thorpe had smiled happily at their praise and had sent them on their way with his thanks.

“I always like to get some input from people who don’t spend a lot of time in restaurants,” he confided softly. “It cuts out a lot of the snobbery.” Raising his voice to the usual level he called, “Have a good time at the show.”

Once settled in the back of another cab, Trixie became aware that she had no idea of what they were going to see or even where they were going to see it. She had not even heard the address that had been given to the driver. There was no opportunity to ask as Zach and Jim had discovered another mutual acquaintance and were laughing uproariously at some escapade of his.

The cab stopped just off Broadway, dropping them into a sea of bright lights. Trixie found herself being whisked inside and into her seat before she even had time to notice the name of the show.

“What are we going to see?” she whispered in Jim’s ear.

“I don’t know,” he whispered back, his lips tickling her ear when they accidentally touched. “But I think we’re about to find out.”

The house lights dimmed, the music swelled and the curtain rose. The show was like nothing Trixie had seen before and she was absolutely entranced. Even when the things that she saw caused her to blush she kept her eyes on the stage.

I hope Jim doesn’t look at me, she thought fervently in a particularly risqué scene. I’m not sure I want him to know that I’m watching this. Little did she know, Jim was having similar thoughts about her.

All too soon the show ended. Reluctantly, the group decided that they would need to go straight home.

“I’ve got classes in the morning,” Antonia said mournfully. “Otherwise I’d suggest we go out and do something else.”

They settled into yet another cab and maintained a lively conversation the whole way back to the girls’ residence. Goodbyes were said and the boys asked the cab to wait while they walked up to the door.

“Oh, look at the time,” Trixie said in a strangled whisper. “How will we get in?”

“It’s all arranged,” Antonia told her. “Look, here’s Sally to meet us.”

“It’s about time,” the other girl said, opening the door. She waved to the cab and it drove slowly away, lingering long enough to see the door shut behind them. “I’ve been waiting a full ten minutes.”

Trixie was frowning. She was sure there was some sort of rule against this.

“We’re not going to get in trouble for this are we?” she asked, interrupting Antonia’s spirited defence of her actions.

“No, it’s all on the level,” Sally reassured. “But I’m beat. I’ll see you later, Antonia. And nice to meet you, Trixie.”

Safe inside their room, Antonia brought up the subject that she had obviously been brooding on all evening.

“He is so hot for you,” she said softly as the two got ready for bed. “You could just about see steam coming off of him.”

“Excuse me?” Trixie squeaked. “I don’t think so.”

Antonia giggled. “Just you wait,” she said. “You two will be together in no time.”

Trixie turned out the light and slid into bed. “I’d like to think so,” she confided. “I don’t think it’s going to happen though. Goodnight.”

The following afternoon after classes Trixie bounded up the stairs to her room. Despite the late night she was feeling happy and energetic.

She opened the door, ready to give Antonia a cheerful greeting but it froze on her lips. Antonia was staring in shock at something in her hand.

“Are you okay?” Trixie asked.

Antonia turned quickly away and hid the object.

“Yeah, fine,” she said sharply and rushed from the room.

Trixie was puzzled. She was sure she had seen Antonia brush away tears.

That evening, Trixie again tried to ask Antonia what was wrong.

“Is something the matter?” she said tentatively as the other girl fiddled nervously with a nail file.

Antonia shoved the offending item into its case and looked away.

“No,” she said firmly. “Everything’s fine. There’s nothing to talk about.”

Suitably chastised, Trixie left the matter alone. She’s lying, of course, she told herself. But what can I do about it?

The weeks passed. Trixie found that she really enjoyed her studies and her outgoing nature helped her to make plenty of new friends. As time went on, however, she saw less and less of Antonia. The other girl had also become quieter and more serious, making Trixie certain that something was very wrong but she had no way of finding out what.

“I don’t understand her,” she said to Jim one day. “She seemed so carefree and - I don’t know - fun, I suppose, when I first met her. And we had such a great time that night. Now I’m starting to think she’s avoiding me.”

“Different people react in different ways to the stresses of study,” replied Jim. “Give her a chance. It’s probably nothing more mysterious than that,” he added with a smile.

Trixie was not convinced.

It was in the fifth week of classes that Trixie’s hunch that something was wrong was confirmed. She had left for one of her classes only to discover that the professor was ill and the class had been cancelled. She returned to her room, thinking that she would use the time to catch up on some study.

Trixie pushed the door open but stopped in the doorway in shocked silence. Antonia was lying on her bed, crying bitterly.

“What’s wrong?” Trixie asked, rushing to her. “Are you hurt?”

Antonia merely shook her head. She was crying too hard to speak. Trixie noticed a piece of paper clutched in Antonia’s hand. She gently took it from her and placed it on the nearby desk.

“Is it bad news from home?” Trixie asked. Once again she got no reply. She awkwardly tried to comfort the other girl.

Some minutes later the crying eased and Antonia spoke.

“Thank you,” she said. “Everything’s fine at home. There’s nothing anyone can do about the problem.”

“Isn’t there any way I can help?” Trixie asked. “Maybe if you told me what was wrong?”

“Okay, I’ll tell you but I can’t see how you can help and you’ve got to promise to tell no one.” Trixie quickly promised and Antonia continued. “You’ve probably heard about the theft at the Westcourt-Thorpe house a few weeks ago.”

Trixie nodded. The theft of a small but priceless painting from the wealthy Westcourt-Thorpes had been front page news.

“Wait,” she said suddenly. “Westcourt-Thorpe was the name of Zach’s uncle, wasn’t it? Is he the same one?”

Antonia nodded. “I was staying in the house at the time, as Zach’s guest. The last few weeks I’ve been getting these letters suggesting that I was the one who stole the painting and the person says they have proof.”

Trixie’s mind raced.

“How could they have proof that you did it if you didn’t?” she asked.

“Oh, that’s the worst part!” cried Antonia. “I was in the room at almost exactly the time it happened.”

“You were?” Trixie was wide-eyed in astonishment.

“We’d all been in the parlour that evening - that’s where the painting hung. After we’d all gone upstairs to bed I decided to go see Zach. He wasn’t in his room but just as I was leaving I saw a figurine, which I knew was Mrs. Westcourt-Thorpe’s favourite, on the table there.

“They’d had a disagreement and I thought he might have cooked up some scheme for revenge, so I took it and waited until everyone was asleep then returned it to the parlour.”

“Then what happened?” Trixie prompted.

“Just as I was going up the stairs, I heard Mrs. Westcourt-Thorpe tell someone to lock the door to the parlour since she’d forgotten to.

“The next morning when the door was opened, the painting was missing. The police came and the whole house was searched. I didn’t dare tell them I’d been in the parlour during the night, especially when it came out that the painting was stolen within fifteen minutes of when I’d been there. Besides, if Zach really did take the figurine he could be accused of taking the painting.

“Then, the day after we went to the restaurant this photograph arrived.” Trixie took it from her and examined it. It showed Antonia, wearing pajamas and furtively exiting a room.

“And you didn’t know it had been taken?” Trixie asked.

“Well, I do remember hearing some sort of noise,” she replied, “but I didn’t think much of it at the time.”

Trixie thought hard for a few moments.

“So,” she said slowly, “if you tell the police that you were there, either yourself or Zach would be implicated in the crime. If you don’t then the letter-writer might send them this. What do they want you to do?”

“What do you mean?” asked Antonia.

“There must be some reason why they’re sending the letters. Are they asking for something?”

“No,” said Antonia, surprised. “I suppose they should be, though.”

“I’ll think about it,” said Trixie finally, “and we’ll see if we can find a way out for you.”

Trixie spent some time over the next few days researching the story in the newspapers and checking up on the other people who’d been in the house. Some of them were prominent members of society and she easily found information on them.

“I have some questions for you,” she told Antonia a few days later. “First of all, tell me again about the other people in the house.”

Antonia thought for a moment.

“Well, besides Zach and me there was Mr. and Mrs. Westcourt-Thorpe, Mr. and Mrs. Huntingdon and their son Charles, Deborah Massey and Ella Thomas.” She paused to gather her thoughts.

“The Westcourt-Thorpes are Zach’s uncle and aunt - her sister is Zach’s mother. They don’t have children of their own. Mrs. Huntingdon is Mr. Westcourt-Thorpe’s sister. The two girls are friends of Charles’. I don’t think Mrs. W-T approved.” Antonia finished with a giggle.

“Were there any others? Maids? The cook?” Trixie asked.

“None of them lived in the house,” said Antonia shaking her head. “Mrs. W-T had sent them all home before the painting went missing and the theft was discovered before any of them arrived. The house was locked up tight and there was no sign of a break-in.”

“So it must have been one of those nine people,” said Trixie thoughtfully.

“Nine?” said Antonia, alarmed. “Am I a suspect, then?”

“I’m just looking at all of the facts,” said Trixie. “No need to take it personally.”

Antonia laughed and said she was just nervous.

“Secondly,” continued Trixie, “How big was the painting?”

“Very small,” said Antonia, indicating with her hands. “Including the frame it was about eleven inches wide by nine high.”

“One more thing, can I talk to Jim about this?” Trixie asked. “He won’t tell a soul.”

“I guess so,” said Antonia.

Trixie thanked her and left it at that.

The next time that Trixie saw Jim was early on Saturday morning. They had developed a habit of going for a brisk walk together each week and then having breakfast together in Jim’s apartment.

“I got a letter from Honey yesterday,” she said as they walked. “I feel as if I don’t know her anymore. She talks about ‘finding herself’ and needing to be alone to do it. I just don’t get what this is all about.”

Jim was so quiet and focused on their surroundings that Trixie thought for a moment that he would not respond.

“I think she wants to find the difference between what she wants and what other people want for her,” he said finally, his eyes still averted.

“What do you mean?” Trixie asked, perplexed. “How can she not know the difference?”

Jim laughed.

“You have such a strong personality,” he said, “that no matter what other people say or do you still know who you are. Honey isn’t like that. She always took her cues from the people around her. Now she wants to know where she stops and the outside world starts.”

When they reached Jim’s apartment there was no one else there. Jim shared the small space with two other students, both of whom liked to entertain, and it was rare for the place to be empty.

“There’s something else I want to talk to you about,” Trixie said as she began to prepare their food. “It’s about Antonia.”

She related the whole story as she knew it after gaining Jim’s word not to tell.

“Strange,” he said as she finished. “But I can’t see what anyone can do to help.”

“I just have to find a way,” said Trixie. “If I could only figure out why this person is writing to her maybe we could make them stop.”

“They must be somehow involved in the crime,” said Jim, “otherwise what could they possibly gain?”

“That’s what I can’t figure out,” she replied. “Unless they have some other grudge against Antonia. I’ll have to ask her about that.”

But Antonia thought that she had no enemies, especially amongst the people who had been in the house at the time of the crime. Trixie was at a standstill and with assignments due for several classes she had no time to spare.

She was beginning to despair of ever having a solution to the problem when a chance conversation gave her a clue.

“Telephone, Trixie,” said Antonia as Trixie arrived back at their room one day.

On answering it she found that the caller was Diana Lynch.

“How’s California?” asked Trixie after the two girls had greeted each other.

“The weather’s very nice,” said Di evasively.

“Is something wrong, Di?” asked Trixie, concerned.

“Girls can be so catty,” she replied hotly. “All I did was start dating an attractive guy and now no one will talk to me! And some of them are so vindictive. I’m forever watching over my shoulder now.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” said Trixie, slightly perplexed. “What’s his name?”

“Who? Oh, Jared Easterbrook. He’s a baseball player, on scholarship,” Di said dreamily. “He’s just so handsome.”

Trixie rolled her eyes and settled in for a description of Jared’s every quality. She was not disappointed.

“So many girls are jealous, though,” said Di, returning to the original topic. “A lot of them want to get at me somehow. It was bad enough before, but now that I’m dating Jared it’s getting almost unbearable.”

In an instant Trixie had another piece of the puzzle. She finished her conversation with Di and then rushed straight to Jim’s apartment to talk to him about it.

Her impatient tapping on the door was eventually answered by Jim’s roommate Ethan, a worried scowl on his usually happy face.

“Jim’s not here,” he said, a little testily.

“I’m sorry to interrupt your study,” said Trixie, contrite. “I’ll just wait here quietly.”

Over the next half-hour Trixie sorted out more of the puzzle in her mind and when Jim did arrive home she could tell him her thoughts clearly and quickly.

“I’ve worked some of it out,” she told him excitedly. “I think the figurine must have been planted by someone who wanted revenge on Zach, or someone who was jealous of him. He would either risk being found with it, or return it and get blamed for the theft.”

“So you’re saying that the figurine was planted by the thief?” asked Jim.

“Yes,” she replied. “It was all planned ahead of time so that Zach would take the blame, but Antonia disturbed the plan by replacing the figurine herself. That’s why she’s getting the letters - to keep her quiet so the thief has time to work out another plan.”

“So now all you need to know is who wants revenge on Zach,” said Jim thoughtfully.

When Antonia arrived back at their room that evening, Trixie had a whole new set of questions to ask her.

“Why would anyone want revenge on Zach?” she asked when Trixie had explained her theory. “The only people in the house that he knew well were his uncle and aunt. I’m sure it wasn’t either of them.”

“What about jealousy?” persisted Trixie. “Is there anything that one of the others could be jealous of?”

But Antonia could not think of any motive against Zach. Trixie was beginning to suspect that her friend could not be trusted for an objective opinion on anything connected with Zach. The very thought made her smile.

The next day Trixie received her regular letter from Brian, right on schedule as usual. She rushed back from her classes, knowing it would be waiting for her.

‘Dear Trixie,’ she read.

‘How are you? I’m doing better this month, but my studies have kept me so busy that I haven’t had time to mope.

‘Do you remember Ed Hall who we met the time we stayed at Cobbett’s Island? I saw him a few days ago between classes. He was in town to attend a medical seminar and we met later to catch up.

‘He’s married now and working at a big hospital not far from where he grew up. He says he owes it all to us because if it wasn’t for the money we found he would never have met his wife and he would have had to work somewhere else if he had graduated a year later.’

Trixie smiled at the thought. It always made her feel good to know she had really helped someone. She read the rest of the letter with a warm feeling inside.

All I need now is to help Antonia, she thought.

By Saturday, Trixie still had no further clue as to the motive against Zach. As she and Jim took their customary walk she tried to keep her mind off it until they were alone.

“I heard from Mart yesterday,” she told him. “I think he’s having the time of his life at Cornell.”

“Do you hear from him often?” asked Jim.

“No,” Trixie responded thoughtfully. “More often I try to call him and he’s out,” she giggled.

“Is there a girl in the picture?” said Jim with a smile.

“Maybe,” Trixie smiled back, “but he doesn’t say. If I ask him he changes the subject. He did tell me that he’s seen Dan a couple of times though.”

“I haven’t seen or heard from Dan for a long time,” said Jim. “How is he going?”

“Mart says that Dan’s doing really well at college and that he can hardly understand him when he talks.”

“That’s really saying something if Mart can’t understand him,” Jim said with a laugh. “He’s doing computer science, though, so maybe it’s just the terminology that stumps Mart.”

It was Jim’s turn to cook the breakfast and he busied himself with preparing it as soon as they arrived at the apartment. Once again the place was eerily empty.

“Have your roommates left you?” asked Trixie.

“Vince has a new girlfriend,” said Jim, “and Ethan is in danger of failing this semester so he’s probably in the library.”

“It’s just as well that there’s no one here,” said Trixie. “I really need to figure out who wants to get Zach in trouble. Antonia’s no help. She just can’t believe that anyone could have anything against him.”

“Tell me again who else was in the house,” asked Jim.

“To begin with,” said Trixie, “there was Zach’s uncle and aunt, who own the house and the painting. I think Antonia’s right, that they’re pretty much in the clear. Then, there’s his uncle’s sister, her husband, her son and two of the son’s friends. Mr. and Mrs. Huntingdon are pretty prominent in society, so I don’t think it will be them either. Though, you never know. Money, power and all that.”

“Mother and Dad know them,” added Jim. “I’ve met them once or twice and I’d say they’re not the sort to do things like this.”

“Their son,” continued Trixie, “is a different matter. He’s been in and out of trouble since his early teens. I found a couple of scandals in the newspapers. I don’t know much about his friends though. Antonia didn’t like them so she barely talked to them.”

“It seems the most likely that it was one of those three,” said Jim, considering. “Or all three together.”

“I didn’t think of that,” said Trixie. “I’ve been looking for one suspect, but it could have been two or three.”

The two talked over the matter while eating the delicious breakfast which Jim prepared but were no closer to the solution by the end of it.

When Trixie next saw Antonia she had some new questions ready.

“Did Zach like Charles and the two girls?” she asked at the first opportunity.

“I don’t think they liked him,” she said after a moment. “He didn’t really have a chance to like them because they were offhand with him right from the moment we met.”

“But he’d met Charles before, hadn’t he?” asked Trixie.

“Oh, they hate each other,” said Antonia carelessly.

Trixie wanted to ask why she had not said so before, but she held her temper and asked a calmer question.

“If they hated each other why did Mrs. Westcourt-Thorpe ask both of them at the same time?”

“She didn’t,” said Antonia. “Charles invited himself and his two friends. I could tell from the way Mrs. W-T reacted when they arrived.”

Trixie’s mind reeled. Somewhere here was the motive. All she had to do was find it.

“Why do they hate each other?” she asked, but Antonia did not know.

That night, Trixie found that she could not sleep. After tossing and turning for what seemed like hours she decided to go over the whole problem again from beginning to end. She was haunted by the idea that there was a piece of the puzzle which she was missing. Sleep claimed her before she could work out what it was.

The next morning, another note arrived which drove all thoughts of the missing piece from Trixie’s mind.

“Look at this,” said Antonia, shocked. “It has a demand.”

Trixie took the note and read it. Unlike the previous notes, this one made it clear that Antonia was expected to work to maintain its author’s silence. It gave her directions to purchase a suitcase from a particular luggage supplier and await further instructions.

“What can this possibly mean?” asked Antonia.

“I’ll have to think about it,” said Trixie, “but I might just have the solution.”

The following morning another note arrived for Antonia.

‘Take the suitcase to Grand Central Station on Saturday morning,’ it said. The note then gave a platform number and destination. ‘Board the 10:50 and sit at the front of the third carriage. You will find an identical suitcase. Exchange it for yours and leave the train at the next station.’

“Oh, Trixie!” Antonia cried when she read it. “Look what I have to do now!”

As Trixie read her face creased into a frown.

“Why would they want you to do that?” she mused.

Antonia did not seem to hear her.

“What are they going to make me do?” she asked in despair.

“I think we’ll just have to wait for the next note,” Trixie decided. “Try not to worry, Antonia. I’ve just about got it worked out.”

On Saturday morning Antonia followed the instructions to the letter. Everything was as the note had said. Once on the station she hurried to find a private place to examine the suitcase. On the outside it looked identical to the one she had purchased but she was sure that it felt heavier.

She lugged it into a stall in the ladies’ room and unzipped the main compartment. Inside she found another note telling her to take the suitcase home and await further instructions.

“Did you get it?” asked Trixie the moment Antonia arrived back at their room.

Antonia nodded. “With another note inside,” she added.

Trixie quickly read the note then turned her attention to the suitcase.

“I can’t see how it could,” Antonia said tentatively, “but I could have sworn this one was heavier.”

Trixie looked up in interest.

“Heavier?” she asked. “How much heavier?”

“Only a little,” Antonia replied. “As if it had, say, a couple of sweaters or something in it.”

Trixie ran her hands over both the inside and the outside of the suitcase. After only a few moments she found what she was looking for. Antonia’s expression turned to amazement as Trixie lifted the bottom out of the suitcase, revealing a cavity which would fit the painting exactly.

“Custom made, I’d say,” said Trixie, pleased. “And nicely padded so that the painting won’t be damaged.”

“But why do they want me to have it?” Antonia asked. “I don’t have the painting; they do.”

Trixie looked thoughtful.

“Can you arrange for the two of us and Zach to meet Mrs. Westcourt-Thorpe in her parlour?” she asked. “Soon?”

“Whatever for?” asked Antonia. “I never want to set foot in that house again. I don’t think Zach wants to either after the disagreement he had with Mrs. W-T.”

“That’s it!” said Trixie. “That’s the thing I’ve been trying to remember. What was the disagreement about?”

“Zach insisted that Charles should leave,” said Antonia slowly. “Mrs. W-T told him off for being so rude.”

Trixie smiled broadly.

“Can you please arrange for us all to meet?” she asked again. “I just know we can solve the mystery together.”

Antonia reluctantly agreed.

The following afternoon the two girls and Zach walked toward the front door of the Westcourt-Thorpe house. Trixie had not seen Zach since the night they had all gone out together and felt a little uncomfortable about that, but he soon set her at ease.

“We’ve had other things to worry about,” he said. “I can’t wait to see what you’re going to do next, though. You don’t seem to have a hat to pull rabbits out of.”

Trixie giggled. “I’m not a magician,” she objected. “Besides, who needs rabbits when you can find missing paintings?”

“Point taken,” said Zach, stepping up towards the door. “Shall I ring the bell, or do you have some sort of mystical method of gaining entry?”

Suddenly, Trixie tensed. A slight sound to her right had alerted her to danger but it was too late. It must be the thief, she thought, her mind racing. She quickly tried to work out whether they had been followed or if the thief was here for some other reason.

“Move away from the house,” said a quiet voice. It was impossible to tell if it was a man or a woman. “Turn left, quickly now. I’ve got a gun and I’m not afraid to use it.”

The three looked at each other for a moment then, at Trixie’s nod, they obeyed.

“Don’t look at me,” the voice said, low and rough. “Keep walking.”

Trixie could hear their captor’s footsteps behind her as she walked.

It must be a man, she thought. Heavy. Taller than me, too. Not too much older, though. He’s disguising his voice, too. She allowed herself a moment of self-congratulation. That just about proves my theory.

“Turn right just ahead,” he said in a low voice.

An alleyway? Trixie thought, panic beginning to build. How do I get us out of this?

As they turned the corner Trixie’s panic evaporated. In the rear vision mirror of a parked car she had seen a police officer. Some part of her knew that everything would be all right, if only she could keep the man talking.

“Stand up against the wall,” he ordered. “Hands on the wall, above your heads.”

The three complied.

“And if any of you makes a noise, or tries to get away, the blonde girl gets it,” their captor said, pressing the gun up against Trixie’s neck. “Get it?”

Zach and Antonia both nodded silently.

“You can’t afford to harm us,” Trixie asserted boldly. “You’ll never get the painting if you do.”

“What’s it to you whether I get the painting?” he snarled, forgetting to disguise his voice. “Besides, this is about revenge.”

“I know how you did it,” Trixie continued as if he’d never spoken. “You’ll never get away with it either. I’ve made sure of that.”

“How could you?” he sneered. “You’re here and no one knows where you are. No one else knows how I did it. It’s over - for you.”

Little he knows, thought Trixie. I’ve learned my lessons.

“Then you have nothing to lose by telling me if I’m right,” Trixie persisted.

“Okay,” said the man, “but you’ll never guess.”

“The night the painting went missing,” she began, “you made sure that Mrs. Westcourt-Thorpe took the party into the room where the painting hung by asking her about her favourite figurine which you knew was kept in the same room. When everyone had gone up to bed you took the figurine and put it in Zach’s room, having got one of your friends to make sure he wasn’t there.”

“Anyone could have figured that out,” he interrupted.

“At the same time,” she continued, “you hid the painting somewhere in the house. Soon after that, your plans went wrong when Antonia returned the figurine to its rightful place. Then you needed time to think while making sure that Antonia wouldn’t tell what she knew, so you started to send her anonymous notes.”

“There’s nothing in that,” he scoffed. “She told you all of it.”

“When you’d worked out your new plan,” Trixie said, “you sent Antonia new instructions, a bit at a time. You got her to buy a suitcase exactly like one you’d already modified to hide the painting in. You got her to exchange hers for yours. You were going to get her to go back into the house and retrieve the painting then exchange the suitcases again, this time with the painting inside. And you were going to lay all of the blame on Antonia and Zach.”

“You nosy little witch. It’s all right except for one detail,” he conceded. “Where do you think I hid it?”

“I’ve never been in the house,” Trixie told him slowly. “I would guess that it’s still in the same room-”

“Not good enough,” he countered with a nasty laugh. “It’s time to say goodbye.”

“Charles, wait,” Trixie called.

“Who told you my name?” he stormed, grabbing Trixie by her collar. “Who said it was me?”

“I figured it out for myself,” Trixie said, gasping. “No one told me.”

A voice shouted something and Charles let out a terrible wail.

At the same moment Trixie felt the pressure on her neck release and she flopped back against the wall, relieved. Strong arms eased her down from that position and she turned to find the alleyway filled with police officers and Charles being held face down on the ground.

Looking around herself, Trixie found the person she most wanted to be comforted by. She rushed into Jim’s embrace.

“That was a little too close,” she murmured against his chest. “Next time, I think I’ll stay a bit further away from the bad guys.”

Jim simply squeezed harder.

Minutes later, Trixie, Jim, Antonia and Zach were shown into a lavishly decorated room in the Westcourt-Thorpe house with enormous cabinets showcasing various works of art. Two officers had agreed to accompany them there, since Trixie had absolutely refused to do anything until the mystery was solved.

“I’m very sorry, Mrs. Westcourt-Thorpe,” Trixie said politely, “but the police have just arrested your nephew, Charles.”

“For the theft?” her hostess asked, apparently unruffled.

“Actually, no,” said Zach. “Trixie’s pretty sure the painting’s still here. He tried to take three of us hostage.”

This time, the older woman showed a reaction. Her eyes widened and her mouth formed a perfect ‘O.’ In a few moments she recovered herself.

“Of course, I would not be at all surprised about him stealing,” she said shakily. “But kidnapping?”

“But-” Zach began. “Not surprised-”

“I knew that he’d been mixed up in that sort of thing before, dear,” she explained gently, apparently amused. “You weren’t the only one in the family to know.”

“I suppose not,” he replied, somewhat dazed.

“It does seem that I owe you an apology, Zach,” she continued. “If I’d taken your advice, none of this would have happened.”

“That’s okay, Aunt Violet,” her nephew said softly. “I’m glad it’s all going to work out - if we can find the painting, that is.”

“If it’s all right, I’d like to take a look around the room,” said Trixie, seizing the opportunity with both hands.

“By all means,” the lady replied with a smile. “Though how you can find anything after all the other people who’ve tried is beyond me.”

Trixie walked slowly around the room, taking careful note of all its contents.

“Perhaps you’d like to tell me how you made the other deductions,” Mrs. Westcourt-Thorpe hinted. “I’m a bit of a mystery fan, I must confess.”

“On the night that the painting disappeared, Antonia found your favourite figurine in Zach’s room. She couldn’t understand why it was there so she returned it to this room. That was when the thief’s plans came unstuck. He couldn’t let her tell anyone what she knew so he began sending her threatening letters, saying that there was proof that she was the thief,” said Trixie a little nervously.

“At first I thought that maybe the painting was hidden in either Antonia’s or Zach’s belongings without their knowledge. Then it occurred to me that the theft was unsuccessful and that they wanted her to get back in here to get the painting.”

“That’s the part I don’t understand,” said Antonia. “You said something about it to Charles, too.”

“He didn’t start out to steal the painting,” Trixie explained. “He just wanted it to look as if Zach had stolen it by making him go into this room when everyone was asleep to return the figurine.”

“Why would he do that?” Antonia asked, perplexed.

“You told me that Zach and Mrs. Westcourt-Thorpe had argued about Charles,” Trixie prompted. “Don’t you think that Charles might want to get back at Zach for what he said?”

“He would,” Zach asserted, as Antonia started to say that he wouldn’t.

“When that plan went wrong,” Trixie continued, “he made another plan to get the painting and blame it on either Zach or Antonia - or both.”

“I still don’t get the bit with the suitcase,” added Antonia. “I mean, I understand about how I got it. I just don’t get what I was supposed to do with it.”

They quickly explained to Mrs. Westcourt-Thorpe the events surrounding the suitcase.

“I think the next note would have had some instructions on getting an invitation to stay here again,” Trixie said. “Then there would have been instructions on getting the painting and getting it to Charles.”

“I would sooner have gone to the police than do that,” added Antonia contemptuously.

“I’m glad to hear it, my dear,” said Mrs. Westcourt-Thorpe.

“I guess that was my big mistake,” Trixie added ruefully. “I figured that it would be better if we could figure out for ourselves where it is. If I hadn’t forced his hand it might have been found by now.”

Trixie did not hear the reply Mrs. Westcourt-Thorpe made, as she had noticed a detail which now held new significance.

“I think I’ve got it,” she said, seemingly to herself.

“What’s that, Trixie?” Antonia asked.

“I think I know where it is,” said Trixie. “My guess is that it’s between the right-hand cabinet and the wall.”

All eyes turned to the place she indicated. A pair of richly carved wooden cabinets was placed on either side of the window. As the room was slightly asymmetrical, the one on the right was very close to the wall while the other had a gap of several inches. The smaller gap was masked by a small panel.

Mrs. Westcourt-Thorpe rose quickly and strode to the cabinet in question.

“There’s something in there,” she said, astonished.

One of the police officers carefully removed the panel and extracted the object from the space revealed. It was around the right size and messily wrapped in plain brown paper. The officer made as if to reveal the contents when he was interrupted by Mrs. Westcourt-Thorpe.

“Step aside, young man,” she said with authority. “I’ll do that.”

Her beautifully manicured fingers loosened the outer edges and gently lifted the paper away. Gilt edges appeared, followed by the slightly rough texture of oils on canvas.

“It’s here!” she cried. “Oh, thank heavens, it’s found!”

Tears of joy streamed unchecked down her face as she soundly kissed Trixie on the cheek. Around her, the room erupted into the sounds of jubilation.

Epilogue:

Once Trixie and Jim had returned for the second semester they resumed their regular walks.

“I don’t think Di did very well last semester,” said Trixie one Saturday morning as they walked along. “She sounded disappointed when I talked to her last week.”

“Are you happy with your grades, Trixie?” asked Jim.

“Oh, yes,” said Trixie enthusiastically. “I never imagined that college would be so interesting. I’ve never in my life put so much effort into my work.”

Jim laughed and after a moment Trixie joined him.

“How about we go out to dinner to celebrate?” he asked.

Trixie was taken aback and for a moment could not think what to say.

“I’d love to,” she said eventually.

The date that they agreed upon arrived.

Trixie looked at herself nervously in the mirror. A glance at the clock told her it was too late to change her mind on which dress to wear. Jim would be there to collect her at any moment.

A soft tap at the door told her that her time was up. Her chin went up and with a confidence she hardly felt, she moved to open the door.

“You look beautiful,” said Jim, handing her the flowers he had brought.

Trixie drew them to her nose to hide the blush she knew was rising in her cheeks.

“Thank you,” she said, “I’ll put these in some water.”

They soon arrived at the restaurant in which Jim had booked a table and were quickly seated. Trixie was so overwhelmed she could barely concentrate to order and promptly forgot what she had chosen.

“So,” she began nervously, “have you heard from any of the others lately?”

“I don’t want to talk about the others,” he said. “I want this night to be about us.”

“Okay,” she agreed. After an awkward pause she laughed and continued, “Why is it so hard to talk now? We talk all the time.”

At once they both relaxed and the rest of the evening flew past.

As the time to leave drew near the conversation turned to Trixie’s love of all things mysterious.

“I really admire the way you handled that last mystery,” said Jim fondly. “I used to get so worried that something was going to happen to you but now I know you can handle yourself.”

“I did some pretty foolish things growing up,” admitted Trixie. “I think I might be over that now.”

“For a while I thought you might have grown out of mysteries altogether,” Jim said with a laugh. “After all, until recently there hasn’t been one that I know of since I left for college.”

Trixie gasped. In her mind, another mystery had just been solved.

“I always thought it was Honey that prompted me get involved in mysteries,” she said, surprised, “and all along it was you! No wonder they stopped when you went away.”

“A toast,” said Jim, raising his glass. “To many more mysteries!”

Trixie was happy to agree.

At the end of the evening Jim dropped Trixie back to her room. He kissed her softly on the cheek and turned to leave.

“Wait!” she called. “Promise me something.”

He waited for her to continue.

“Promise me that we’ll always be friends, no matter what.”

“I promise,” he said. And Trixie knew that he meant it.

The End

Author’s end notes, 21 October, 2003: Well, it’s been a year since I started writing and I can hardly believe how far I’ve travelled! A year ago today, I started this universe with no intention of ever letting anyone see it. Needless to say, I changed my mind.

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