Trixie reached out her hand, but did not touch the doorknob. After four seconds, she let out a noisy breath and let the hand drop to her side.

“I can’t do it,” she told her best friend Honey. “I know it doesn’t make sense, but I just can’t.”

Honey favoured her with a look of commiseration, then offered, “I could open it for you, if you like.”

Though her friend had not moved, Trixie threw out an arm to stop her. “No! That doesn’t help. I need to do it myself.”

Turning her back on it, Trixie began to walk away, taking Honey with her. They retraced their steps along a path bordered with bright flowers, through a squeaky metal gate painted green and across the quiet suburban street on the outskirts of Sleepyside. Getting back into her car, Trixie bumped her head against the steering wheel a couple of times.

“I’m being ridiculous,” she reasoned aloud.

“Tell me the whole story again,” Honey suggested. “Maybe there’s something that you’ve missed.”

Trixie let out a sigh. “Okay. It all started when I got up this morning and I found a note pushed under the front door. It said it was from a friend of Moms’ from the gardening club – her name’s Mrs. Taylor – and said that she needed me to feed her dog because she’d been called away suddenly and didn’t know who else to ask.”

“And you know this Mrs. Taylor?” Honey prompted.

“Kind of. I know what she looks like. And I think this is her house. I didn’t know she had a dog.”

“But you were going to come here and feed the dog?”

“Of course. The poor dog! What if she doesn’t come back for days?”

“And the note was addressed to you?”

Trixie shook her head. “No, that’s one of the strange things. It said something like this: ‘Dear Helen, Sorry to be such a nuisance, but an emergency has come up and I need to leave right away. I know you have a dog and will be used to feeding pets, and I really can’t think of anyone else to call upon. I’ll try to phone you later, once I get to the hospital. You know the address, don’t you? 12 Lily Lane. Please take good care of Hannibal. Thank you and so sorry for the imposition. I’ll try to make it up to you when I get back. Angela. P.S. I’ve left the door unlocked so you can get in.’ Only, I would have thought that Mrs. Taylor knew that Moms and Dad are away.”

Honey’s brow creased. “That’s kind of a funny name for a dog.”

Trixie laughed. “You think that’s bad? Old Mrs. Sellars has a dog named Herman. She calls him Hermy.”

“I suppose that’s kind of cute.”

“But he’s a Doberman!”

Honey giggled. “Okay, maybe not so appropriate, then. So, what happened next? You came here earlier, didn’t you?”

Trixie nodded. “I came over straight away – I guess that was about an hour ago. I went up to the front door, only I was getting a funny vibe, like there was something wrong. And that’s when I went and got you and you know the rest.”

“Let’s be reasonable,” Honey suggested. “What’s the worst thing that can happen?”

“The worst? Well, maybe Pierre Lontard is out of jail and he set this up and the house is wired with explosives and if I open the door we’ll both die.”

“Is Pierre Lontard out of jail?” Honey asked, in alarm.

“Well, no. Not as far as I know. Unless he escaped and no one told me, he should still be in there for a long, long time.”

“In that case, is that really a likely scenario?”

Trixie grinned and shrugged. “You didn’t ask for the most likely. You asked for the worst. And I’ve thought of lots of others. The dog might bite me. This might be the wrong house. Some other enemy of mine might have set it up that I be caught at the scene of a burglary.”

“I think the most likely case is that the dog will be happy to see you,” Honey mused. “Though, since it doesn’t know you, it might bark.”

“That’s the other thing that’s strange. I haven’t heard a thing from inside the house. Shouldn’t the dog have barked at me when I came to the door? Or at least, whined. It’s supposedly in there all alone.”

“Why don’t we try knocking on the door?” Honey opened her car door and got out. “We can’t just sit here all day – just think of that poor dog, waiting for its breakfast.”

Trixie nodded once and followed along. They approached the door once more. Trixie took the lead and knocked upon it several times. Nothing.

“There’s a big gap under the door,” Honey noted. “Let’s slide my phone in and take a picture of the inside of the handle. At least, then, you’ll be able to tell that there’s no explosives involved.”

It took them three attempts before they got a useful shot, but at last Trixie was satisfied that no traps were involved with the door itself, at least. She took a deep breath, reached out and turned the handle. The door opened without a sound.

“Everything looks okay in here.” She peered in through the door without entering. “But where’s the dog?”

“Hannibal! Here, boy!” Honey called.

Still nothing. They stepped inside and closed the door behind them. The house was clean, neat and silent.

“We’d better look around,” Trixie decided. “I’ll try this way; you can go that way, if you want.”

Honey nodded and took the doorway to the left, which led into a sitting room.

“There’s a little tin of food on the kitchen table,” Trixie called, a short time later. “It must be a pretty small dog. And I’ve found his bowls, too.”

“I’ll try the bedroom,” Honey offered. “Here, Hannibal!”

The two searched the house without success. Meeting in the kitchen, Trixie dropped into a chair and put her chin in her hands.

“I don’t know where he could be! The house is closed up, so he couldn’t get out. He must be hiding here somewhere!”

Honey picked up the tin of food and looked at the label. Her gaze travelled from it to the top of the cabinet, where she spotted a small, dark face. Two piercing blue eyes stared back at her.

“I think I’ve solved the mystery, Trixie.” She offered the tin for her friend to examine. “The reason we can’t find the dog is because Hannibal is a cat.”

The End

Author’s notes: A big thank you to Mary N. (Dianafan), who kindly edited for me. Your help is very much appreciated, Mary!

This story was written for CWC Jixanny 17: A Picture is Worth 1000 Words. The challenge was also issued by Mary N. and required that we write a story inspired by one of a set of 17 pictures. The one I chose was the last one, a picture of a doorknob. It got me thinking about what might be behind the door. Thank you, Mary, for setting the challenge. It was lots of fun.

And, lastly, a big thank you to all those who go towards making Jix the wonderful place that it is. It really doesn't seem like seventeen years!

Please note: Trixie Belden is a registered trademark of Random House Publishing. This site is in no way associated with Random House and no profit is being made from these pages.

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