The Pendeville House Affair

A Story in Multiple Choice - Updated Version
Page Two

2.1

"I don't know why I let you talk me into these things," Jim muttered, allowing himself to be led back in through the kitchen door. "If Brian catches us…"

"He won't," Trixie replied, in a whisper. "Come on! Let's get upstairs. There's something I wanted to check out."

With a mischievous smile that reminded Jim exactly why he allowed himself to be talked into such things, Trixie bounced up the stairs. Even at speed, her steps were so light as to make very little sound. Jim followed more slowly, taking care not to alert his best friend to the situation. By the time he reached the top, Trixie was at the end of the passageway, her hand on a doorknob. He heard a slight squeak as she pushed the door open and stepped inside.

A few moments later, he joined her in the room. Unlike the other rooms he had seen on this floor, this one did not contain any beds. Built-in bookshelves lined most of the wall space. Under the lone window sat a small desk and chair. Trixie was leaning over the desk, her back to the door.

"What do you have there?" Jim asked, walking towards her.

She stepped back to reveal an old fabric bound book, its yellowed pages covered with spidery handwriting. "It was lying open on the desk," she explained. "I thought it might be interesting."

"A diary?" Jim tried to make out the writing and had an immediate urge to look away. "I'll let you read it; it makes my eyes water."

With a smile, Trixie sat at the desk. "This is the part that interested me," she said, pointing to a sentence about halfway down the left hand page. "It sounds so strange. 'Any gentlemen reading autobiographies need Dinah's help, especially roaming in the afternoon. Greta eludes, but you eventually allow fellows enter near me at night! Perhaps a gent even said evening's voice exists near tablets you take. Have I recalled Dinah Purdy's arrival round at Greta's reception and pursuing her?'" She looked up, her eyes shining. "See? It doesn't seem to mean anything, but there must some reason why she wrote it. What if some of these words - like gentlemen, Dinah, reading, Greta - are a code for something else?"

Jim frowned, softly repeating a few phrases to himself. "It might be a different kind of code," he said, after a long delay. "What happens if you take a certain letter from each word?"

A few false starts later, Trixie found a pencil and paper in the desk drawer and quickly deciphered the message: A Grand Heritage, by E. A. Fenman; page 70, third paragraph.

"It must be a book," she said, beginning to scan the shelves. "If we find it, maybe we can figure out what it means." Jim joined her and soon both were searching. After a few minutes, they both said, "Here it is!"

Each drew out a small book, one bound in faded red with gold embossed lettering, the other still encased in a battered dust-jacket. The cover of the latter was subtitled 'Secrets of Our Historic Houses.'

"Two?" asked Trixie. "Of all the silly things, why should they have two copies of the same book?"

"I guess it happens, sometimes," he replied. "The owner might have gotten married, or inherited some books, or they might have lost their first copy and later got it back."

Trixie was already opening her copy to page 70, seeming to disregard Jim's answer to her question. Sighing at her inattention, he began to do the same with the copy he held.

"This could be a problem," Jim mused, comparing the two volumes. "The pages are set out a little differently, so it's a completely different piece of text. That one," he pointed to the book that Trixie had found, "is about an old house where something was hidden under some floorboards. This one is about a document which had slipped between the panels of an old desk."

"Both of them were in print at the time this entry was written," Trixie commented, after checking the front of each. "So, which do you think it should be? If it's mine, we should start checking for loose floorboards, but if it's yours, we should find all of the desks in the house."

What do you want to do?

Should they check for loose floorboards? Go to part 2.3.

Should they look for desks? Go to part 2.4.

2.2

"That's a wonderful idea, Honey," said Di, rising gracefully. "Let me just get my purse." Her quick footsteps soon sounded on the stairs. A few minutes later she returned, walking slowly. "I just found this." She held out an envelope, a perplexed frown on her pretty face. "I must have brought it by accident."

"What is it? Where did you find it? May I have a look?" asked Trixie, all in one breath. In response, Mart rolled his eyes heavenward, while Brian wearily rubbed the bridge of his nose. Their sister made a show of turning her back.

"It was caught in one of the zippers of my make-up bag," Di replied, slowly. "I remember opening it just before I left, to add my new mascara. I had to balance it on the edge of the table outside Daddy's study. I guess the envelope must have been on that table."

"Your father leaves his letters there for Harrison to post," said Mart, with obvious impatience. "We'll drop it in the mail for him on the way to the café."

"But-" Di stopped. She tapped the edge of the envelope against her pursed lips twice before continuing. "The letter is in the envelope the wrong way and I saw some of the words through the address window. I think it might be bad news - concerning me."

There was a pause as each of them considered the matter, some staring at the envelope and others looking at Di, or towards the ground. Finally, Brian spoke. "It's your father's correspondence. We have no business opening it. We'll call your father and ask him where he'd like it sent."

"Says you," Trixie muttered. "There's no crime in opening the letter and turning it around. We could save a lot of time that way."

"And just 'accidentally' peek at the letter while you're at it?" Brian asked. "There is a law against opening other people's mail. We should make the call."

What do you want to do?

Should they call Di's father? Go to part 2.5.

Should they open the envelope? Go to part 2.6.

2.3

"The one you found is older," said Jim, returning the other copy to the shelf. "Maybe this is the right one."

"What does it say, exactly?" asked Trixie, taking the book from him and beginning to read it aloud. "'The mystery remained for many years, until an enthusiastic investigator began a more thorough search. When the floorboards in the bedroom were lifted, the majority of the missing jewelry was found.' Oh, woe! Exactly how many bedrooms does this house have?"

"Plenty," Jim replied, "but what makes you think that it has to be a bedroom here? It could just as easily be another room. It could be this room, or one of the ones downstairs, or even the attic."

Sighing at the apparent magnitude of the task, Trixie decided, "Let's start here, then, and work our way through the rest of the rooms on this floor. How do you think we should do this?"

Jim picked a large craft knife out of the desk drawer and then stooped to roll back the threadbare carpet. "On hands and knees, I think. We'll have to test each separate board to see if it's nailed down. Luckily, the boards aren't too close together, so we can see if there's any sideways movement." He pushed the blade between the first two boards to demonstrate.

After ten minutes' effort, the tiny room was finished and the two went on to search the next one. By the time they reached the fourth room, they had settled into a routine. It had not long commenced when the pattern was broken.

"Trixie?" At the sound of Jim's voice a thrill of anticipation ran through her. "I think I've got it."

In a moment, she was at his side, impatient to find out what may be hidden below. He paused, however, fingers still gripping the end of the board and she asked, "Why aren't you lifting it?"

"This might be nothing," he reminded her.

"I know," she replied, placing her hand on top of his. "Let's find out."

"In a minute," Jim teased, letting the board drop back into place and turning his hand to caress her own. "Don't you want to enjoy the suspense for a little longer?"

Trixie was torn between the desire to satisfy her curiosity and a longing to keep holding Jim's hand and looking into his eyes. She leaned closer, wondering what it would be like for their lips to meet. She was certain that the desire must have been showing on her face when Jim smiled and said, "Let's see what's under here."

Almost reluctantly, Trixie returned her attention to the floor. The board creaked as it was slowly lifted from its place. Fragments of dirt made gritty sounds as they were dislodged and fell into the cavity beneath. The adjacent board lifted quietly and Jim laid the two together next to the hole.

"Can you see anything?" Trixie asked, barely above a whisper.

The shadowy space was so covered in dirt and dust that it was difficult to make out any detail. Jim reached under the adjoining boards and pulled out a small skull, probably that of a rat.

"Is this what we're looking for?" he asked with a shrug. "I don't see anything else in there."

"Maybe I should get a flashlight," Trixie muttered, rising to her feet. The action gave her a different view and a glint of light caught her eye. "Hey, that could be something." She dropped down again to investigate. Her hand, as it reached to pick up the object, froze. There was a tremor in her voice as she said, "I think we'd better have that flashlight. I don't think I'd better touch this."

Without a word, Jim left to retrieve it, returning a few minutes later. He played the light around, letting out a gasp as it illuminated a hatchet. Even through the thick layer of dust its covering of dark, sticky redness could be seen. The next moment, Jim was reaching inside to take it out.

"What are you doing?" Trixie demanded, catching his arm. "That's probably evidence. We shouldn't be touching it."

"It's okay, Trix," he replied. "It's not blood."

"Then what is it?"

He pulled out the hatchet and held it where she could see. "Sap," he stated. "There's a tree around the back with sap oozing from it that's just the same dark red."

"Oh," said Trixie, seeing that he was correct. In the daylight, it was quite clear that the red sticky substance was not blood. She thought for a moment. "So, why is it hidden under the floorboards?"

Jim was still bent over the hole. "There's something else in here." He reached in and got something small, dropping it on the floor. The little bundle was dusty and ragged, a scrap of fabric held together with a length of frayed twine.

"This looks more interesting," said Trixie, untying the knot. The bundle opened, revealing perhaps a dozen small, uneven, pale stones. "What are these?" she wondered, running her fingers over them. "They don't look like any precious stone that I know. Do you think they're worth something?" As she spread them out, one small glimmer of blue showed. "Oh! Look at this!"

Turning the stone back and forth in the light changed the glimmer from blue to pink and back again. On closer examination, some others showed greens and yellows as well.

"Are they opals?" asked Trixie, unable to take her eyes off them.

"I think so," Jim replied. "I think we'd better call the police."

"Please, Jim, let me investigate a bit first. There's no reason to believe there's anything illegal here."

What do you want to do?

Should they investigate? Go to part 2.7.

Should they call the police? Go to part 2.8.

2.4

"This one is in better condition," said Jim, looking at the two books. "Maybe it's this one. Let's check in all the desks."

"We might as well start with this one," Trixie decided, taking out its drawer and feeling all around. "I don't see anything here. Where else is there a desk?"

Jim remembered having seen one downstairs, so they went to check. At the base of the stairs, they met Honey and Diana.

"Come and help us look for something," Trixie said, drawing the pair along after her. "I found a diary upstairs and it had a coded passage, which led us to a book, and now we need to find something that's slipped into a cavity in a desk."

"But what is it that we're looking for?" asked Di, as Trixie attacked a desk found in the living room. "And what are you doing, Trixie?"

Her friend banged the desktop in frustration. "It's locked." After a moment, she snapped her fingers. "The key is probably around here somewhere. Maybe if I look around, I could find it."

"Are you sure you should be doing that?" Honey asked, looking uncomfortable. "If the owners of the house wanted us to be able to access the desk drawers, they wouldn't have locked them, would they?"

"I don't want to get into the drawers," Trixie disagreed, tipping out a jar of rather disreputable pencils. "I want to get the drawers out." She picked up an orange vase, with a view to moving it out of the way, but stopped mid-action. "Did you hear that? It sounded just like - a key!" Three desk drawers were soon stacked on the floor and she displaced two books, the pencils and their jar, and the vase in order to tip the whole thing on its side.

"I still don't understand what we're looking for," Di complained.

Jim shrugged. "I guess we'll know it when we see it."

Even as he spoke, Trixie gently extracted a newspaper cutting. "I've got it!" She sat down and smoothed it out on the floor. The other three gathered around to see.

"A funeral notice?" Honey asked. "Are you sure this is what we're looking for?"

Trixie nodded vigorously. "Look: there's a mark here, next to the part about the graveside service, and a whole series of other marks under some of the words."

"Or, is it under individual letters?" asked Honey. "Maybe it spells something. E-P-I-A-P- Oh, wait. I've missed a letter. E-P-I-T-A-P-H. Epitaph. I guess we're supposed to go and look at the tombstone."

Jim reached over and picked up the page. As he did so, the reverse side came into Trixie's view and she let out a gasp. "Look! There's marks on the other side, too. Is it a map?"

"An epitaph doesn't have to be on a tombstone, does it?" Honey wondered. "Maybe the epitaph we're looking for is somewhere else. But how do we know where to start?"

The rough sketch, made in a small white space, showed a square with the letters P.H., a few streets, an X and a few other marks. Trixie pointed to the square. "Is that here? P.H. - Pendeville House. Should we look for the grave, or try to follow the map?"

What do you want to do?

Should they go to the cemetery? Go to part 2.9.

Should they try to follow the map? Go to part 2.10.

2.5

"Okay, I'll make the call," said Di, stepping back inside. "I won't be a minute and then we can go." She took out her cell phone and settled with it in the window seat of the living room. Her first attempt was to her father's cell phone, but a recorded message told her that it was switched off. Their home number was answered on the second ring. "Oh, hello Harrison. It's Diana speaking. Could I speak to my father, please?"

"I regret to inform that he is not at home," said the butler. "An urgent matter arose shortly after your departure. You should be able to reach him at his office."

Frowning slightly, Di thanked him and ended the call. She dialled the private line to his office and it was surprised to hear it answered by his secretary.

"Sorry, Diana," the young woman replied, when asked to put the call through. "We're not expecting him today. He told me to direct all the important callers to his home."

"Are you sure, Sandy?" Di asked. "I just spoke to Harrison and he told me to call you."

"Your dad called me less than ten minutes ago," she replied. "I asked him when I could expect him and he said he wouldn't be in until Monday, just like he planned."

Hearing the other woman's assurances, Di politely ended the conversation and set the receiver down. "Strange," she said to herself, turning the letter over and over in her hands.

"He's not there?" asked Trixie, startling Di enough to make her jump.

She shook her head. "He was supposed to be working from home, but Harrison says he's at the office; Dad's secretary says he's at home and his cell phone's turned off." After hesitating a moment, Di handed the envelope to her friend. "Take a look at this and see what you think it means."

The clear panel, through which the address should be seen, displayed a section near the end of a typed letter. At the top of the window were the lower half of Mr. Lynch's signature and name. Beneath, written in his bold hand, were a few words: "P.S. The kids don't k-" and, below, "the move to Cal-".

"Could be 'the kids don't know' on the top line," Trixie mused, tapping the letter sharply on a nearby table, trying to see a little more. "C-a-l- could be a lot of things, though." She turned the envelope from side to side and held it up to the light. "I can't quite make out what the next letter is."

"You know what I'm afraid of?" Di asked. "I think it's 'California'. Dad always wanted to move there. I think he's decided to relocate the family without telling us." Her voice quavered as she continued. "I think that's why he's not where he's supposed to be: he's making the arrangements in secret."

"It'll be okay, Di, even if they do move," said Trixie, awkwardly trying to comfort her friend with a half-hug. "At least you'll still be with Honey and me at college."

"But my mother is terrified of having me too far away!" Di wailed. "She'll make me go with them. I just know it. Besides, I can't live on the other side of the country from my family. I'd just die if I didn't see them for a whole semester."

Trixie's brow wrinkled. "Wouldn't your parents pay for you to fly home whenever you wanted?"

"You know I'm not allowed to fly alone." Di flipped her hair over her shoulder and stood up. "I think I'd better go and tell the others what's going on. If I'm leaving, we'll need to make the most of the time we have left."

"I'm sure there's another solution," said Trixie. "We should try to come up with some ideas of what else it could mean."

What do you want to do?

Should they look for another meaning? Go to part 2.11.

Should they tell the rest of the Bob-Whites? Go to part 2.12.

2.6

"I won't peek," said Di quietly. "I'll just open it, turn the letter over and seal it again." She stepped over to a nearby table to do just that. As the page emerged, something slid from between its folds and fluttered to the ground. "Oh! An old hundred dollar bill! What was that doing in there?"

Trixie bent over to retrieve it. "Hey!" she cried. "This isn't a hundred, it's a thousand!"

"No, it isn't," Honey whispered, in awed tones. "It's a ten thousand! Just look at all those zeros."

"Do we have an advance on $10,000?" asked Dan, in disbelief. "Do I hear $100,000?"

"We would have noticed right away if it was one of those," Mart contradicted. "They were printed with black ink on the front and orange on the back. Additionally, they were never available to the general public, so I think it's probably better that it wasn't a $100,000 bill that fell out of the envelope." He edged closer to the magical piece of paper. "Can I touch it?" he asked. "I never thought I'd see one of these babies! Did you know that there are only around three hundred of these known to exist? They haven't been produced in over sixty years."

"It's that old?" Di questioned.

"They were last printed in 1945," Mart continued. "Though, this particular specimen must date from no earlier than 1929, as it is printed in the familiar size and not the larger one used prior to that date."

"If it's genuine," Brian added. He took the bill from his sister and held it up to the light.

"Well?" she demanded. "Is it real?"

Brian shrugged. "It looks fairly convincing, but I don't know what they're supposed to look like. Even if Dad was here, I doubt he'd be able to tell us for sure. They're so rare that he's probably never handled one."

"Denominations larger than one hundred dollars went out of circulation in July of 1969, courtesy of President Nixon," Mart informed them. "Our esteemed father may be a high-ranking employee of the First Sleepyside Bank now, but in 1969 he most certainly was not."

"Out of circulation?" Di asked, with a frown. "You mean it's not worth ten thousand dollars? It's just a piece of paper? Well, that makes me feel much better! I'd hate to have to look after something worth that much."

"Actually, it's still legal tender," Mart explained. "It's worth at least its face value."

"You mean it could be worth even more than that? What are we going to do now?" Di wailed, peering first one way and then another. "I wish I'd never opened the envelope. I feel like there's someone watching us, ready to come and steal it!"

"There's no one around," Honey soothed. "No one knows except us. We'll just have to find somewhere safe to keep it until we can get it back to your father."

"But where?" asked Di. "I don't want to have to take it anywhere and I don't think there's a safe here. And how will we get it back to him? Oh! why did the stupid letter have to get caught up in my bag in the first place?"

"What was the address on the letter?" Trixie asked. "If it's not too far away, maybe we could call your Dad and see if he'd like us to deliver it."

"I didn't even look," Di admitted, turning the letter over in her hand. "It's going to southern California."

Trixie's face fell, but she still asked, "Anyone up for a road trip?" When her friends failed to respond, she added, "At least that explains why he didn't take it there himself."

"Something here doesn't sound right," Dan objected. "Why would Mr. Lynch put the money in a letter?"

"Maybe I should just call him." Di pulled out her cell phone and stepped away from the others. The conversation continued without her.

"Maybe Di's Dad was looking at the bill and accidentally put it in the envelope with his letter," Trixie mused, beginning to pace back and forth. "Or, maybe someone interrupted him and he hid it there and forgot to take it out again."

Honey's face showed her disinclination towards accepting the theory. "I don't think Mr. Lynch would be that careless. I mean, I know that Mr. Lynch has a lot of money, and ten thousand dollars isn't a lot, compared to his millions, but still it's ten thousand dollars and if you don't look after the ten thousands, you won't have the millions, pretty soon, if you see what I mean?"

"Okay, then maybe someone else put it into the letter to smuggle it away." Trixie's eyes shone as she explored the theory. "They knew that Mr. Lynch had it and that it would be hard to steal it, so they hid it in his letter, meaning to intercept it later, only Di accidentally brought it here instead. They could be out there watching us right now."

"If they are, we should stop talking about it," Dan snapped. "Do you want to be held up, or something?"

Before Trixie could respond, Di rejoined the group. "I couldn't get through," she told them with a shrug. "I've left my number with his message service, but it could be hours before he gets back to us. What are we going to do now?"

"Put it away safely," Brian suggested. "We'll find a safe place to keep it, then we'll lock up the house, with ourselves inside, and wait until Mr. Lynch contacts us. It's the safest option."

"But that could take hours," Trixie wailed. "It'll be hot and boring and can't we do something, rather than just sit around and wait? There must be something we could investigate. How about if we try to figure out where the bill came from? We could maybe get a safe deposit box so the money would be safe, but still work on the case."

Brian thought for a few moments. "There would still be a risk while we transported it," he decided, "but there would be a risk in any case. It's presumably your father's property, Di. You need to decide what we'll do."

What should Di decide?

Should they investigate? Go to part 2.13.

Should they lock themselves in the house? Go to part 2.14.

2.7

"I guess it wouldn't hurt," Jim decided, picking up the hatchet. "But if we find anything suspicious, we'll need to call the police right away. Is that a deal?"

"Thanks, Jim," cried Trixie, throwing her arms around him and narrowly avoiding cutting herself. "Now, what do these tell us?" She set to examining the items, first running her fingers over the hatchet to remove the dust. "It looks pretty old."

Jim nodded. "I remember that my Dad - my real father - had one like it, which he'd gotten from his grandfather. Look - the handle is worn smooth from use, even where part of it's split away."

"It's been well looked after, too," she added. "Why would you go from looking after your tools to hiding them under the floor, all dirty and sticky? Unless it wasn't the owner who put it here." She ran a finger over the flat side of the blade. Despite its sticky appearance, the sap had set smooth and hard. "So, someone cut a branch from the tree, then hid the hatchet and the opals here under the floor and never came back for them? It doesn't make sense."

"Let's go and take a look at the tree," suggested Jim. "Maybe we'll be able to find the scar. After all, you'd normally use a pruning saw to cut a branch, not a hatchet."

When they reached the tree, Trixie saw why Jim had noticed it. Here and there along the trunk, small wounds had oozed, leaving trails of deep red. There were no visible signs of the tree ever having been pruned, but after a few minutes search, they found the stump of a similar tree bearing chopping marks. It was far smaller, perhaps three or four inches across, and much closer to the house. It aligned with two windows, one on each level.

Trixie peered in through the lower window and recognised the room to be the dining room. She looked at the one above and asked, "Which room is that?"

"The room where we found the stuff," Jim replied, after a moment's thought. "What are you thinking, Trixie?"

Her brow creased as she gazed upwards. "Insurance fraud?" She shook her head. "The police would have to investigate and I doubt they'd fall for that. And anyway, thieves don't normally chop down trees." She examined the stump. "I doubt that you could climb to that window. The tree wouldn't have been big enough."

Jim knelt to take a closer look. "I don't think this tree was chopped down with the hatchet," he decided. "The chopping marks don't go all the way through. It's been finished with a saw."

"It was harder work than it looked?" asked Trixie. "I wonder what it means?"

"Maybe there's something else in the diary," Jim suggested. "After all, the person who wrote it must have known something about it."

Trixie snapped her fingers. "Of course. Why didn't I think of that?" The next moment, she was off at a run, heading back upstairs. She reached the room well ahead of Jim and began to scan the pages for more clues. "There's only a couple of entries after this one," she said, frowning, when he joined her. "Neither of them have anything like the part the we read at first."

"Try the few entries before." Jim leaned over to turn back a page, his hand brushing Trixie's arm on the way past.

The entry immediately prior yielded a sentence which read 'The heavy old umbrella stand has at last taken notes on the second thin end and legs,' and back a few pages was 'Friends in faith take heart – cheating makes disgrace.' The same entry yielded 'Do I let every man meet Anna?'

"'Thou shalt not steal,' 'Fifth C-M-D,' and 'Dilemma.' What does the second one mean?" Jim wondered.

"The first one's one of the Ten Commandments, so C-M-D might be short for 'commandment'," Trixie suggested. "Could that be the one about honouring your parents?" She frowned for a moment, as Jim looked for a Bible to check. "Did one of her parents steal something?" She began to pace as the ideas came thick and fast. "Maybe one of her parents took something and she thought that it was wrong, but she also thought it would be wrong to hand them over to the police. Maybe she did something to stop the parent who was stealing from gaining from their crime. What if it was the opals that they stole, so she hid them. That would explain why they were still there: she had no desire to have them, only to stop her parent from having them."

"But why cut down the tree?"

Trixie thought for a moment. "That's the strange thing, isn't it? Though, if she did take the opals, she must have done something to throw suspicion away from herself. I just can't see how cutting down the tree and hiding the hatchet would help."

"Maybe you need a different perspective on the tree," Jim suggested. "If we look through one of the windows, either the room where we found the stuff, or the one directly below it, maybe we'll see something that wasn't visible from the ground."

What do you want to do?

Should they look through the upstairs window? Go to part 2.15.

Should they look through the downstairs window? Go to part 2.16.

2.8

"I don't think so, Trixie," Jim decided, after a long pause. "I think these are probably quite valuable. We'd better hand them over to the police right away."

Sighing with disappointment, she nodded her head and followed him downstairs. Near the front door, they encountered Brian. His face registered surprise, before turning red with disapproval.

"What were you doing up there?" he demanded. The tone of his voice drew the attention of the others and they began to gather around. "I thought that you were going for a walk."

"Trixie remembered something strange and we just had to come back and investigate right away," Jim explained with a smile, immediately defusing the situation. "We found these under the floorboards." He opened the little bundle for all to see.

"What are they?" asked Diana. "They don't look very interesting."

"Oh! I've seen something like them before," added Honey. "Are they white opals?"

"We think so," said Jim. "We're just going to call the police."

Honey ran a manicured fingertip over the small pile. "Are you sure you're not overreacting? Maybe they were just hidden there to protect them from burglars. This is an old house, after all, and a long time ago a lot of people were afraid to trust anything to the banks. It was probably quite common to hide your valuables somewhere at home, especially if you didn't have a safe, and I can't think of anywhere safer than under the floor. What burglar would have the time to search the floor of every room in the house?"

"If we don't go to the police, what do you suggest we do?" asked Brian. "We can't exactly take charge of the gems ourselves."

"A quick trip to the library?" Honey replied. "If there's any kind of clue as to how long they've been there, we could check for burglary reports in the local paper. I'm sure that these going missing would be pretty big news in a town this size. If there's no news of them, we can fairly safely assume that they belonged there. We could talk to the agent to find out how to return them to the owner of the house."

"I'll just check in the diary," said Trixie, heading for the stairs. "That'll tell us when they were hidden there, at least. We can work backwards from that date."

"What diary?" called Honey, causing her friend to stop her ascent half-way. "I thought you were investigating floorboards?"

Shifting her weight from one foot to the other with impatience, Trixie told the rest of the story, finishing, "Now, will you let me go and find the date? We need to get going."

"Wait a minute, Trixie," Honey asked. "Did you read the whole thing?"

The impatient look on Trixie's face intensified. "Well, no. There hasn't been time, and it didn't seem that important. Now, can we get going? Please?"

"Maybe we should check the diary for more clues first," suggested Honey. "It might tell us where they're from and save us the trip."

What do you want to do?

Should they check the diary again? Go to part 2.17.

Should they go to the library? Go to part 2.18.

2.9

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but I think we should go to the cemetery," said Di. "There's nothing on this map to tell us how far we have to go, or how to tell when we've got there. At least at the cemetery, we'll know when we're in the right place."

"I agree," said Jim. "Let's round up the others."

In a few minutes, the seven had piled into cars and were heading towards the outskirts of town. Soon, gravestones could be seen through a decorative iron fence. They rounded a corner and came upon the gates, which stood open. The parking lot gravel crunched underfoot as they got out of the cars and headed inside. To all appearances, they were completely alone.

"What name are we looking for?" asked Mart, looking first one way and then another.

Trixie pulled out the cutting and read: "Mary Elizabeth Carmichael. Maybe we should split up. Whoever finds it first could whistle."

After a minute's discussion, Jim and Trixie went to the left, Honey and Brian to the right and the rest straight ahead. Perhaps ten minutes had passed before a whistle sounded. The five who were unsuccessful all moved towards Honey and Brian's position.

"Here it is," called Honey. "Mary Elizabeth Carmichael, born 1862 and died 1959 - that's ninety-seven years. It says, 'Beloved mother and grandmother; enigma and lover of mysteries.' She sounds like your kind of old lady, but I don't see how that helps us." She turned to her best friend and found her staring off into the distance. "Trixie? Did you hear me?"

"What? Oh, yes. I was just thinking. Does anyone have a map?" Mart offered to get one from the car and returned with it a few minutes later. Trixie sank onto a nearby bench to study it. She tapped a spot with one index finger, then pulled out the newspaper clipping and flipped it to the reverse side. "Here's the house. Does this look like the right way to you?" Honey dropped down next to her to check.

"It could be," she conceded, holding the sketched map next to the printed one. "But it could be a couple of other ways, too."

Trixie's finger tapped the end-point of her interpretation. "Look at the street name here," she suggested. "Enigma Drive, just like on the headstone. And, look: Carmichael Park. It all matches up."

"I'm not so sure," said Brian, looking over her shoulder. "It could just as easily be St. Mary's Church on Elizabeth Street."

With a troubled expression, Trixie stared at the headstone, as if it could tell her the correct answer. Something caught her eye and she leapt up. "Look," she cried, brushing back the overgrown grass from the base of the stone. "There's something else here! Ouch!" She drew back her hand to reveal a thin line of blood.

"What happened?" asked Brian, striding forward. He took her left hand in his and carefully examined the cut along the side. "What did you touch? It must have been something sharp."

"This," Jim answered, holding up a piece of broken bottle. "There's glass everywhere, but this was poking up."

"We'll need to clean and dress the wound before we do anything else," Brian decided. In a few moments, he had sent Honey to the car to collect supplies. Mart and Dan began to gather the broken glass, collecting the pieces in the intact base of the bottle Jim had found.

When Honey returned, she and Trixie renewed their discussion, while Brian worked. "So, what does it say?" Honey asked, indicating the tombstone. "In all the excitement, I never got to see it."

"Something like 'God is light and darkness hath no place in Him,' with a Bible reference," Trixie quoted. "I think it supports my theory, because a beacon is a kind of light and I saw 'Beacon' marked on the map right next to the park."

"On the other hand," Brian replied, then smiled, "no pun intended, it could also support my theory, because Bibles undoubtedly go with churches."

What do you want to do?

Should they go to Carmichael Park? Go to part 2.19.

Should they go to St. Mary's Church? Go to part 2.20.

2.10

"This makes much more sense," said Brian, as they gathered the group together. "Epitaphs are usually quite short. I'm sure we'd just be wasting our time to go to the cemetery first."

They were soon on the way, taking two cars. Jim took the lead, with Trixie, Brian and Honey as his passengers. The rest used Diana's car. Turning left out of the drive, they moved off down the street.

"Okay, here's where we need to turn left," said Brian, from the back seat a short time later.

"No, it isn't," Honey disagreed, leaning forward to ask for the clipping from Trixie. "Look, it's quite clear. The road we want goes on a slight angle. This one is perfectly straight."

"No, I'm sure this is the one," Brian argued. "All of the lines in this diagram are slightly crooked. It was drawn by someone who was very imprecise, as evidenced by their method of communicating the destination in the first place."

"But if you look at the other lines," Honey continued, "you'll see that this one is different."

"I really need to know which direction I'm driving in," Jim interrupted. "Left, or straight ahead? Make a decision, please."

"Left."

"Straight ahead." Honey shot Brian a look of exasperation. "Definitely straight ahead."

"No, it's left."

"Just look at the map." Honey jabbed it with a well-groomed nail. "There's another street a little further along that matches the sketch perfectly. It must be that one, not this one."

"I think we'd better pull over," Trixie suggested to Jim, as the argument in the back seat continued. Oblivious to the occupants of the front seat, Brian was drawing conclusions based on the correlation between the information on the opposite sides of the cutting.

Honey gave him a cool gaze. "That's ridiculous, Brian. If you want to reason that way, you might as well say that any street would do, provided it didn't go to the right."

"That's completely unfair," he replied, unfastening his seat belt. "I chose that street based on its position, and the best fit between reality and that completely insufficient sketch. If you won't listen to reason, I can see only one way of settling this matter." Without another word, he leaned forward and kissed her, hard. A long silence followed, as Honey and Brian stared at each other in wonder.

"So, have you come to a conclusion?" Trixie asked, when it seemed that nothing else would happen.

"Straight ahead," said Brian.

"Left," Honey murmured.

"Oh, no, Honey. You were right."

"I don't think so," she replied. "We'll take your suggestion."

Trixie let out a groan. "So, which way are we going?"

What do you want to do?

Should they turn left? Go to part 2.21.

Should they continue straight ahead? Go to part 2.22.

2.11

"If it's not 'California', then what is it?" asked Di, eyebrow raised. "I can't think of anything else it could be."

"Uh, calculus?" asked Trixie, scratching around for an answer. "Calorie? Calaboose? Calamine lotion?"

"What are you two doing in there?" demanded Mart, without leaving his position on the porch.

"We're trying to think of words that start with C-A-L," called Trixie. "Can you think of any?" To Diana she added, "We should have thought of him before. If anyone can think of it, it'll be Mart."

Already, he was listing words: "Calcium, calendar, calciferous, callisthenics…"

Trixie and Diana joined the rest of the group on the porch. As Mart paused, the others began to add their own contributions.

"Calico," suggested Honey.

"Calciferol," added Brian. "Calcareous, californium, calliper."

"But none of those help," Di objected. "It doesn't make sense to say 'the move to calliper.'" In a few words, she explained the reason for the question.

"Oh, then you want a place that starts with C-A-L," said Mart. "Why didn't you say so? There's cities like Calgary, Calcutta and Calais, or the state of California; Caledonia is another name for Scotland, after which a number of places have been named-"

"Wait a second," Di interrupted, as Mart prepared to continue his lecture. She had been staring at the envelope, but now waved it in front of her. "Something tells me we're going the wrong way. I think I was thinking it was a place because it looked like a capital C, but Dad's capital Cs have a kind of hook across the top and this one doesn't. Brian, what was the first thing you suggested again?"

"Calciferol," he said, after a moment's thought. "It's-"

"One of the D vitamins," Di completed, her eyes shining. "They add it to milk to help with the absorption of calcium." As Mart stared at her, mouth agape, she explained, "My dad has a friend who is involved in research into osteoporosis. Maybe the letter is to him and it could be 'the move to calciferol-enriched dairy produce,' or something like that. Then, 'The kids don't know-' would be a separate thing altogether. Now that I come to think of it, Dad's letters do go like that sometimes. If he goes to the trouble of adding one thing, you can almost bet that he'll add a few while he's at it."

"So, there was never anything to worry about," Mart concluded, pompously. "Now, let's go to the café. You can try calling your father again later."

Di frowned. "But where is he? It's not like my father to just disappear like this!"

"And what is it that the kids don't know?" Trixie added. "Even if they're not moving to California, there's still a mystery there. Do you have any other clues to what's going on, Di?"

"Well, let's see." Di's brow creased slightly as she considered. "The last time I saw Dad was at breakfast. That's when he told me that he'd be working from home for the next few days. He mentioned something about golf at the Country Club, and that a few of his business associates would be visiting while I was away. Other than that, we just talked about this trip, the weather; that sort of thing."

"They're visiting?" Trixie asked. "Does that mean they would be staying somewhere close by? Maybe he went to see one of them and Harrison just got the wrong idea and thought he meant he was going to the office."

Di shook her head. "They're staying at our house, arriving tomorrow or the next day. The other thing that might be a clue is what I heard Harrison saying to my mother this morning. He told her that the packages had arrived as scheduled, then she looked over her shoulder and saw me, and she kind of jumped."

"Maybe the packages have something to do with what the kids don't know," Trixie mused, beginning to pace. "Maybe your dad's friend - the one the letter is to - has something to do with it. Do you think maybe your dad went to see him? He's definitely in on the secret, whatever it is. Seeing as the packages arrived right before he left, maybe the reason he's gone is so he can take them somewhere - like to the man he was writing to. Do you know where he lives, by the way? It would give us a starting point for the investigation."

"Philadelphia."

Trixie frowned. "We can't exactly go to Philadelphia. I wonder how we could do this. I know! Uncle Mart lives in Philadelphia. We could call him and ask him to check Mr. - what is his name?"

"Carter," Di supplied.

"Mr. Carter's place for any signs of Mr. Lynch," Trixie concluded. "If we call right away, he might even get there before he does and they might see him arrive with the packages. Once we've got a description of them, it should be easy to figure out what's in them and what the secret is."

"Could we really bother your uncle with this?" kind-hearted Honey asked. "It seems like a lot of trouble to put him to. There must be another way to solve this."

"Like being patient and talking to Mr. Lynch when he has the time," Brian interjected. "Honestly, Trixie, there is no mystery here and your idea of a solution doesn't even make sense. You're grasping at straws."

"What do you think, Di?" Trixie asked. "He's your father. Do you think he's missing because he's delivering packages to Mr. Carter?"

"I don't know," said Di, slowly. "I have a feeling it's something a little more complicated than that. I think it might be better if I called my mother."

What do you want to do?

Should they call Uncle Mart in Philadelphia? Go to part 2.23.

Should they call Di's mother? Go to part 2.24.

2.12

"Please, Trixie?" asked Di. "I'm sure I'm right."

"Okay. I guess we could tell them," Trixie muttered. She followed as Di strode back out onto the front porch, where the others still waited.

"I couldn't reach my dad," she announced, as everyone turned to look at her. "So, I've decided to tell you all what upset me about the letter. The part that I can read through the window says that my family is moving to California and I've decided that I'll be going with them."

Brian was the first to break the stunned silence. "Have you considered the effect that would have on your education?"

"Education?" Mart spluttered. "How can you talk about education at a time like this? I think there are far more important matters to consider before that! You can get education anywhere."

"Are you sure about this, Di?" asked Honey. "Maybe it could be some kind of mistake."

"I'm not sure," interjected Trixie. "If you ask me-"

Mart pushed her aside, apparently ignoring all of the other Bob-Whites except Diana. "Please, don't go." He reached out to gently touch her shoulder. "I'd miss you so much."

"I'm sure that if you consider the consequences," said Brian, a serious look on his handsome face, "you'll find that this is not a decision to be made on the spur of the moment. It needs a good deal of thought and careful research."

"You need to listen to your heart," his brother disagreed. "Surely, your heart tells you that you should stay with us?"

"None of you is listening!" cried Di. "I've made my decision and it's not negotiable. Now, can we please make the most of the time we have left together? Please?"

"Why don't we go to the café, like we originally planned?" Honey suggested, gently ushering the group towards the front stairs. "We don't need to talk about it right now and maybe the walk would do us good."

With a minimum of grumbling, they locked the house and set off down the street. As Honey had indicated, the café was only a short distance away. Soon, they had ordered drinks and snacks and were gathered around a couple of adjoining tables, which had been pushed together. Conversation was strained as they waited for their orders to arrive.

When everything was delivered to their table, Di took a moment to look around at her friends. Honey was trying hard to hide her disappointment; Brian appeared deep in thought, perhaps formulating arguments to convince her that she was wrong; Dan's face had a strange, closed quality, with no emotion visible; Jim was watching Trixie, with a look of deep concern, while she displayed outright rebellion; Mart, at the furthest corner of the table, looked miserable and was playing with his food.

What am I doing? she wondered. I can't break up the group like this! She paused, taking a sip of her vanilla skinny latte. But, it's a choice between being near my family and being near the Bob-Whites. I don't want to leave them! Maybe I've been too quick to choose. Oh, what should I do?

What do you want to do?

Should Di reconsider her decision? Go to part 2.25.

Should Di stick with the decision to move with her family? Go to part 2.26.

2.13

"Maybe Trixie's right," Di decided. "It would be boring waiting in the house. But, how do you get a safe deposit box?"

"Leave that to me, my little sugar plum," Mart declared. "Since our paternal figure is involved in the fiscal industry, I am well-acquainted with the procedure. We will proceed to the financial establishment of the nearest proximity and-"

"Set up a contract," Brian summarised. "Don't worry about it, Di. We'll find a place to keep it."

A few minutes' work with the telephone directory and Di's cell phone located a nearby bank that could help them and in less than an hour the bill was safely secured. They had not long left the bank when the awaited call from Di's father arrived.

"Oh, Dad! I'm so glad to hear from you!" she said, quickly explaining the mix-up with the letter and the steps they had taken. "So, what would you like us to do?"

"Well, it's probably safe enough where it is," he replied. "I intended to tell you the whole story when you got back, so that the Bob-Whites could investigate for me. I can't think how it could have gotten into that letter, or how the letter got attached to your luggage."

"What do you mean, investigate?"

"Investigate?" Trixie repeated, only to be shushed by Di.

Mr. Lynch overheard the exchange and chuckled. "Seems there's something of a mystery concerning the bill. According to the previous owner, it's haunted."

"Haunted?" squeaked Di. "Why did he say that?"

"Well, I think, mostly to give the bill more value," he admitted. "There needs to be something special about a piece of currency if you want to sell it for above its face value, especially for an item like this, which is still legal tender. This particular specimen is in very good condition, and has some other points about it which make it rare."

"But about the haunting?" his daughter prompted.

"Oh, yes. The story goes that at some point in the bill's life, its owner was betrayed and murdered by a close friend and died clutching the bill. The man who sold it to me couldn't supply me with exact details, like names or dates, but he assured me that the dead man watched over the bill and saw to it that it was always safe. The man who sold it had been trying to research the history, but had met up with a brick wall. I thought you and your friends would like to do some research for me to see if we could pin down a few more details. It might help with the resale value, one day, if I could furnish it with a better tale."

"That sounds, uh, interesting," Di replied. "But you're sure it's not real? It's just a story? I don't really want to meet your ghost, if I can help it!"

"Just a story, sweetheart," he assured her. "So, do you think you'd like the details of what I have now, or will you wait until you get back?" Di took one look at Trixie's impatient expression and decided that 'now' was the right answer. "I'll fax the information to an associate of mine and you can pick it up, okay?" Di agreed, jotted down the address and ended the call.

"Well?" demanded Trixie, before she had even had time to press 'End'.

"He's happy with the arrangements we've made," Di replied, in demure tones. She suppressed a smile at the frustration her friend displayed. "He said that there was a story to go with the bill when he bought it and that he'd like us to find out more." Since it seemed that Trixie was about to explode, Di decided to stop playing games and repeated the conversation in full.

"So, what are we waiting for?" Trixie asked, as soon as the story was finished. "Let's get to the place where we pick up the fax. He's had plenty of time to send it, by now."

"Do we all need to go?" Brian asked, as his sister tried to herd the whole group away. "Wouldn't it be easier if Di went by herself?"

The disappointment was plain on Trixie's face. Once again, Di took pity. "You come with me, Trixie; Honey, too. I don't really want to go by myself."

Trixie's face was split by a huge grin, as she and her friends raced down the street towards Di's car. In fifteen minutes, they arrived at their destination. Di approached the receptionist and explained her errand. The young woman handed her a document several pages long. Thanking her profusely for her trouble, the three barely kept to a walk as they left the building.

"Quick, Di," Honey asked, "what does it say?"

The other girl frowned. "Well, there's a list of names here - I think they're known previous owners - and there's a copy of the story the man gave my dad. Then there's a few notes my dad has made about the details of the bill - when it was printed and so forth. It says here that they used to print lots at once, but they didn't need all that many of them, so one printing would last for decades. From the serial number, they can find out when the bill left the mint, but it could have just sat in a bank somewhere for years and years."

"Let me see the names," Trixie demanded, taking the first sheet from Di's hands. "Gleeps! Look at them all! It's been owned by all these different people? These dates next to them must be when they got it and the places must be where they live. It's changed hands twelve times and been to eight different states in the last four years!"

"The person at the top of the list is called Hart," Di pointed out. "Do you think it might be one of your mother's relations, Honey?"

"George Alfred Hart," Honey read. "It sounds a little familiar. He could be related. Mother would know. If we need to find out, I could call her."

Trixie, by this time, was inspecting the second and third pages. "I can see a few different lines we could take," she said, starting back towards the car. "First, there's the previous owners - we'd need to look at the ones who are up near the top of the list, mostly, I think, even though the dates only go back to the sixties and it would have been pretty old, already, by then. Then, there's crimes that match this description," she added, tapping the second page. "By the sound of the story, it started not long after the bill went into circulation. If we take the dates that your father gave us for when the bill was printed and his estimate of when it might have first been circulated, we could look up the details of crimes at around that time."

"If we do both of those," Honey added, with eyes shining, "we could compare the results and try to match one of the owners to the crime."

"Exactly!" said Trixie.

"I think we should split up into teams," Honey suggested. Her eyes twinkled, in spite of her serious expression. "Maybe Mart would like to find out more about the bill, since he seems to know so much about money already."

Di's expression brightened. "I could help him with that. I wasn't looking forward to doing anything that would lead to crimes, or criminals, or ghosts."

"That's settled, then." Honey shot a glance at her best friend. "Trixie and I had better be on different teams, to keep the boys in line. I'll go with Brian and Dan. So, Trixie, which line do you want to take? Do you want to investigate potential crimes, or the owners?"

What do you want to do?

Should Trixie choose to investigate potential crimes? Go to part 2.27.

Should Trixie choose to investigate the former owners? Go to part 2.28.

2.14

"I think, maybe, Brian's right." Di dropped her gaze to the floor. "Sorry, Trixie."

"It's okay, Di," Trixie muttered, scuffing a shoe against the rough boards of the porch floor. "I guess I wouldn't want the responsibility, either."

Brian began herding the group inside. Di clutched at Mart's arm and tried to keep herself surrounded at all times. Trixie dawdled behind. "In you go," her eldest brother encouraged. He pulled the front door shut and secured it with a key. "Now, Jim, could you go and lock the back door, please? Dan, you and I will secure all of the downstairs windows; Jim can join us when he's finished. Trixie and Honey can fasten the upstairs windows. Mart, you stay with Di. Is that clear?"

The others murmured their consent, before carrying out their appointed tasks. Half an hour later, Brian took a tour of the whole building, checking that nothing had been overlooked. A nervous group gathered in the living room to wait.

"It sure is hot in here," Trixie muttered, a hint of rebellion in her voice. "Couldn't we have just one window open?"

The air stirred. "What was that?" asked Di. "I thought I felt a breeze. There shouldn't be a breeze if all the windows and doors are shut, should there?"

"See, Trixie? We don't need the windows open," Brian pointed out. "We'll be just fine."

He was interrupted by a series of soft bumps, followed by a crash of wood against wood, which seemed to come from the front porch. "Oh!" cried Di, frantically waving the envelope which held the bill. "Someone's coming to get us!"

"Quick, Brian! What do we do?" asked Honey.

"Keep calm!" he ordered. "It's a solid door; it would take a lot to break it down, so we have a little time to come up with an escape plan."

"And we have all these big, strong men to defend us," Trixie added, from her position near the front window.

Honey stared at her as if she'd grown an extra head. "Defend us?"

"Mmm," Trixie answered, tapping a finger against the glass. "I'm sure they'll be brave enough to defend us against that huge, ferocious kitten and the chair it knocked over."

"Kitten?" Honey echoed, scurrying over to her friend's side. "Is that all? I had such a fright!"

The little cat finished its luxuriant rubbing against the banister and turned to look in at them. Trixie tapped once more. All of a sudden, the creature's fur stood on end and it practically tripped over its own feet as it scrambled to get away.

"Oh!" Trixie frowned in disappointment. "I guess it doesn't like me."

"I think we're all a little overwrought," Brian decided, ignoring his sister's antics. "Maybe we should do something while we wait for the call from Mr. Lynch. How about a game of cards?"

"That's a good idea," said Honey, "but make it something silly, like Strip Jack Naked. I don't think I could cope with anything too serious."

"Do we have to sit in this room?" Di wondered, peering at the large windows and doorways. "It feels so exposed. I'm sure I'd feel safer somewhere else."

After a few minutes discussion, they decided on the dining room. It was considerably smaller, had only one doorway and two windows, and had the advantage of the large table for a playing surface. With a minimum of squabbling, they took their seats. Di managed to secure one with its back to the only blank wall.

Jim produced a deck of cards and had soon dealt them out. The game began, but was frequently interrupted by one or other of the jittery Bob-Whites. Honey jumped when Brian accidentally brushed her arm. Di let out a squeal when a dog barked nearby. Even Jim was startled when a tree branch brushed against the window.

"Enough!" Brian announced. "I know we're all feeling nervous, but there's really nothing to worry about. No one is coming to get us; it's all in our imagination."

From somewhere nearby came a sound like furniture being pushed across the wooden floor. At once, they were all silent and alert.

"What was that?" Honey asked, in barely audible tones. "Is someone there?"

"That sounded like a sneeze," whispered Trixie. "Maybe someone's listening to our conversation. They may know we've got you-know-what."

"But where are they?" Di asked, shivering with fright. "Brian, are you sure that all the doors and windows are secure?"

"Of course I'm sure," hissed Brian. "Do you think I'd let us stay in here with that much money without double checking every single door and window? The place is locked up tight and no one can get in."

"Or out," Honey added.

Brian patted her on the arm. "There's no need to be morbid; we're quite safe here. It was just something outside."

"I'm sure it didn't come from outside," said Trixie, setting her shoulders. "We're all here and sneezes don't happen by themselves."

"Then there is someone after us and they must be in the house, too," Honey whispered, with a shiver. "What should we do? Should we try to get out, or do we barricade the door?"

What do you want to do?

Should they try to get out of the house? Go to part 2.29.

Should they barricade themselves in the dining room? Go to part 2.30.

2.15

"That's a great idea, Jim," Trixie cried over her shoulder as she raced towards the room. She went inside, threw open the window and leaned out. A moment later, she mused, "You were right: this is the window. But I don't see anything that I couldn't see before."

She stepped back to let her companion have a view, then began to pace the floor. "The trouble is, we don't know which came first - taking the opals, or trying to cut down the tree." She suddenly stopped. "Jim, how tall do you think that tree would have been?"

"At least as tall as this window," he decided, after a little thought. "Probably a little taller. Whoever looked through this window then would probably see mostly the canopy and little else."

"Did she want to cut down the tree so that she could see something?" Trixie wondered. "So that someone could see her? Because of something she could see?" She stopped. "It was too small to climb; too big to reach the top. You probably couldn't see too much more without it, because of all the other trees. I think it has to be a reason connected to the tree itself, not just where it was." She frowned, one impatient finger tapping her chin. "Jim! What if she tried to cut the tree down so she could reach the opals?"

"You mean the opals were in the tree?" he asked.

She was pacing now, too excited by the idea to keep still. "Just think: you've stolen some opals, but you'll be suspected of the theft. You can't hide them anywhere in the house because they might be found. So, you hide them in this tree, but your daughter sees them through one of the bedroom windows and she takes them. She doesn't want you to know that she has them, so she hides the evidence - and the stones - under the floorboards. This was probably her room. She might have even seen her father hide them in the tree."

"But, assuming that you're right, what happened next?" asked Jim. "Why did the opals stay under the floor all these years?"

"The diary entries stopped only a week or two later than the one with the coded entry," said Trixie, now still and quiet. "What if something happened to her?" There was a long pause, while she wrestled with the idea. "Jim, I think we'd better hand them over to the police."

Some time later…

A firm knock sounded at the front door. Trixie jumped up from her chair in the living room and almost ran to answer it. The others had, by now, been filled in on the discovery and were not surprised to see two police officers enter.

"I'm glad you decided to call us, ma'am," said the older one, after the story had been retold. "It's been something of a mystery all these years and I think this will clear up the whole thing. The diary probably belonged to Miss Violet Pendeville, a lady in her forties or fifties, who lived here with her widowed father more than forty years ago. They seemed quiet and law-abiding, until one day he murdered her and never would say why. He died in jail some years back. We never connected the theft of the opals to the murder; they happened months apart. The day of the murder was my first day on the job; today's my last; I'm retiring. So, I for one am real happy to see this cleared up. Now, if you'll just show us the diary and the place where you found the gems?"

Trixie led the way upstairs, standing aside to let the officers enter before her. "The diary is on the desk," she explained.

"Where?" asked the younger officer. "There's nothing on the desk here."

Trixie quickly followed and saw at once that he was right. The diary was nowhere to be seen. "I don't understand," she said, searching all around. "No one's been up here since we called you. It was right here."

Eventually, she had to admit that it was gone. Puzzled, she showed the officers the bedroom where they had found the opals. To her relief, it was just as they had left it. Her suspicion that it had been the woman's bedroom was confirmed, but nothing further of interest was found. In a few minutes, the officers left.

Trixie wandered out into the yard behind the house and sat on a bench she found there. She was so deep in thought that she jumped when Jim sat down next to her. "Sorry," he said, smiling. "I didn't mean to scare you."

"I don't understand it," she said, almost to herself. "Where could it have gone? We were all downstairs. No one could have gotten in and taken it. None of us took it."

"Unless it turns up, I think you'll just have to accept that we don't know," said Jim, gently touching her arm. "Let it go, Trixie. You solved the mystery."

"Then, why don't I feel satisfied?" she asked, looking up into his eyes. "I don't feel like I've solved anything."

"Maybe you need to turn your attention to another mystery," Jim suggested. His fingers gently brushed her face and they both leaned a little closer.

"I think you're right," she replied, a soft smile playing on her lips. "Do you have any suggestions?"

He smiled. "Just one." And, finally, their lips met.

The End

Want to play again? Go back to Part 1.

End notes

2.16

"Let's check downstairs first," Trixie decided, heading for the stairs. "We can try the other window later, if we need to."

She was in the doorway of the dining room, almost at her destination, when she heard Brian's angry voice: "I thought you were going for a walk. If I'd known that you meant to sneak around the house…"

"Oh, Brian!" she cried. "It's not like that. I found a diary upstairs and it had a passage of code in it and we decoded it and found the book and looked under the floorboards and there were some opals and a hatchet and I just have to find out why they were there!"

"Opals?" he asked. "I think this might be a matter for the police."

"Please, Brian, let me just investigate a little longer. There's no reason to believe that there's anything illegal here." Trixie gazed hopefully at her brother, but to no avail. A moment later, he left to make the call.

Some time later…

"The least he could have done is let me have a little more time," Trixie muttered to Honey as the two sat on the front stairs. "They'd been there forty years. Another couple of hours wouldn't have hurt. We could have all investigated together, just like old times."

"And it's not like they'll be able to charge anyone over the theft," Honey added. "After all, the police officer said that the man's been dead for years, and his daughter, too." She sighed. "At least you were right about it being her father who stole them. I'm sure you could have figured out the rest."

Trixie's head sunk down onto her hands. "I guess so. It's too late, now."

The End

Want to play again? Go back to Part 1.

End notes

2.17

"I'd really like to see the diary," said Di. "Please, Trixie?"

"Okay," Trixie replied, with good grace. "I guess you're right. It might have more clues in it."

Soon, the group had gathered upstairs in the tiny room. Diana sat at the desk so that others could see past her. To begin with, she opened the book at the front and began to examine it.

"I don't see a name anywhere," she mused, slowly turning the pages. "I suppose these are her initials: V.N.P. They're written in a few places." She stopped and read a page. "Oh, this is so sad!"

"Isn't it?" asked Honey, reading over her shoulder. "It always makes me feel weepy to read about lost love." She shivered. "I wish she hadn't expressed it as her 'last chance for happiness,' though. It's like she doesn't feel loved by anyone - not even her family or friends."

"What do you think this means?" asked Di, pointing to the bottom of the page. "She says, 'I will hide every reminder of him away, where I need not lay eyes on them again. He has shown himself unworthy to be beneath my feet. What would once have been beautiful will gather dust. The living symbol of our love will fall to the ground.' Is this what we're looking for?"

"It certainly sounds like it," Honey agreed. "The opals would have been beautiful and the tree was a living thing, before someone cut it down."

"I guess that's the answer, then," said Trixie. "What should we do with them now?"

"Put them back and nail the boards down?" Jim suggested. "It's someone else's tragedy. Maybe we should let it rest."

With a feeling of regret, Trixie nodded her consent.

The End

Want to play again? Go back to Part 1.

End notes

2.18

"I'll just get the date," said Trixie, racing up the stairs. She returned a minute later and added, "We can look at the diary some more when we get back."

Soon, the seven arrived at the town's small library. The librarian, a scholarly woman in her mid-forties, greeted them with some surprise. "You make quite a crowd," she commented with a smile. "Is there something I can help you with?"

"We're staying at a place called Pendeville House," Trixie explained, stepping forward, "and we were wondering about the local history. Do you have newspaper archives that we could look at? Dating back, say, forty years or so?"

"You're interested in the murder?" asked the woman. "Most people who stay there want to hear about that when they find out it was committed there. I'll get the file for you." She was greeted with a stunned silence. "I'm sorry. Obviously, that wasn't what you were asking about."

"I just knew I'd made a mistake renting that place," Di muttered. "As soon as we're done here, I'm heading back to Sleepyside."

"What murder?" asked Trixie, ignoring her friend's glum statement.

The librarian laid a file on the counter and explained, "Old Mr. Pendeville, who owned the house, murdered his daughter one night. They say that he was a little eccentric before that, but no one suspected he might be violent." From a sheet of yellowed newsprint stared a photograph of the victim, a prim woman of middle-age. Now, what was it that you really wanted to know?"

"Actually," Honey explained, "we had an idea that there might have been some sort of big crime here about then, from a document we found in the house. We thought it might have been a big robbery, though; a jewel theft."

The woman thought for a moment. "I don't know of any jewel thefts," she said, "but I do know of some missing gems from around the same time. My neighbour, Mr. Baker, polishes gem stones as a hobby. He missed some opals, once, when I was a little girl. I don't remember whether it was before or after the murder. I do know that they were never found."

"Is it possible for us to speak to Mr. Baker?" Honey asked, trying to mask her excitement.

"Certainly," she replied. "In fact, one of you already would have; he keeps the keys to Pendeville House."

"Well, what are we waiting for?" asked Trixie, handing back the file. "Thank you very much, Miss… Mrs.…"

"Mrs. Johnson," the woman supplied. "And, you're most welcome."

A short time later, the group were gathered in the front office of a small real estate agency, waiting for their presence to be noticed. Impatient for a result, Trixie tapped the bell on the counter with a little more force than necessary.

"Can I help you?" said an old gentleman, emerging from an inner office. He peered at Brian through his glasses. "You're the one who picked up the key to Pendeville House this morning, aren't you? Is there a problem?"

"No, sir," Brian replied. "We're just wondering about something we found there. We've spoken to Mrs. Johnson at the library and she directed us to you. She said you missed some gemstones some years back."

The old man leaned on the counter. "I did. Six uncut white opals. Spent a fortune on them, but couldn't get up the nerve to actually polish them. By the time I'd built up the confidence, they'd gone missing."

"Was there any clue as to what had happened to them?" Trixie asked, almost breathless. "Did anyone else see them?"

"The only person I showed them to after I bought them was Mr. Pendeville. He was a lapidary, too, with a lot more experience than I had back then, and I asked his advice." Mr. Baker let out a sigh. "I never did get a chance to ask him, though."

"Mrs. Johnson showed us the file on the murder," Honey told him, seeing his discomfort. "It must have been a terrible shock."

Trixie looked at the rest of the group, a question in her eyes. Seeing their slight nods, she asked, "Would you know the stones if you saw them again?"

"I think so," he replied. "Even if I didn't, I still have sketches of them, from when I was trying to decide how to polish them."

Once again catching the others' eyes, Trixie brought out the bundle. "Are these your opals, Mr. Baker?"

A look of astonishment passed over his face, before he bent to examine them. "Let me get my magnifier," he said, his voice suddenly hoarse. He disappeared through the doorway, returning a few minutes later with some paperwork. He began to study the stones, carefully comparing them to the sketches. Finally, he said: "It's them; it's really them. Where did you find them?"

In a few words, Trixie explained how they had come to look under the floorboards. The old gent nodded. "I see. He told me when I showed him the stones that I shouldn't polish them; said I didn't have the experience and that I'd ruin them. He was right, of course. I had no business thinking I could do it back then. Maybe he took the matter into his own hands. In fact, I bet he did. Maybe he would've given them back when I had more experience, or maybe he wanted them for himself. Either way, his daughter must've found out and hidden them. She always was straight-laced." He sighed. "I guess that must be why he killed her."

He picked up a stone and turned it over in his hand. "Crazy old devil," he muttered. "Still, he's done the world a favour by saving these beauties from my inexperienced hand."

"Will you polish them, now that you have them back?" asked Trixie. Her curious glance ran over the sketches as she tried to imagine the end result.

"Heck, no," said the man. "My hand's not steady enough for that. I'll pay someone else to do it for me." He looked up and smiled. "Thank you, all. Despite the associations, it's a pleasure to see these again."

The End

Want to play again? Go back to Part 1.

End notes

2.19

Honey shot a look at Brian before saying, "I think Trixie's right. Let's go to the park."

Barely suppressing a frown, Brian packed up the first aid equipment and marshalled the group. "Okay, gang. Let's go."

The sky overhead was blue as they set out. The first vehicle, with Jim at the wheel, took the road back towards the house and Di's car followed. As they neared their starting point, Jim asked, "Okay, which way now?"

Trixie, in the front passenger seat, consulted the map. "Go straight past the house and continue until we get to the intersection with Main Street, then turn left." A few minutes later, she directed, "Now, take a right at the T-intersection and keep going straight for one, two, three, four, five blocks." A sign came into view for Enigma Drive. "Here it is! Turn left here."

The road curved gently to the left, then the buildings on that side ceased and a wide expanse of river came into view. After several blocks, a road sign told them that there were no further connecting roads. They followed the road right until the end, finding themselves near the join between the river and a tributary. The narrow triangle of land had been left as parkland.

"This way!" Trixie cried, jumping out of the car even before it had fully stopped. "It'll be something over here." She raced across the grass to a sign post, which stood alone in the middle of the space. "What are you all waiting for?"

Shaking their heads at her impatience, the rest of the group followed at a more sedate pace. By the time they had caught up, Trixie had read the inscription and was staring around herself in confusion.

"What is it, Trixie?" asked Honey, coming up beside her and beginning to read. "Is this the right place? 'The Mary Carmichael Memorial Trail.'"

"I guess so," her friend replied. "What I don't understand is where to start."

"Start?" asked Brian. He, too, read the inscription and a look of understanding dawned on his face. "It's some kind of puzzle? That's an interesting memorial." The sign read 'Direction in time a star is rising.' On the ground below, the points of the compass had long ago been drawn in wet concrete.

"I don't get it," said Di, plaintively. "What do stars have to do with anything? Does it mean we have to come back at night? How are we supposed to solve the puzzle?"

"It's a cryptic clue," Brian explained. "We need to look for some sort of trick, or play on words. Sometimes, it's an anagram, or a pun. Sometimes, you need to add the words together to make another word. Usually, part of the clue is a regular definition of the answer."

"North," Mart declared. "The straight clue is 'direction' and the star is the North Star. We need to go north, which would be towards those trees."

"But what does the 'rising' part mean, then," asked Honey. "Which direction do stars rise?"

Brian frowned. "Sometimes, in crosswords, 'rising' in a down clue means that there is another word spelled in reverse, or that the word is hidden backwards in the clue."

"'Star' in reverse is 'rats,'" Honey pointed out, "but, somehow, I don't think that helps."

Unnoticed by the arguing Bob-Whites, the sky had turned from blue to dark grey. A stillness had fallen, only to be broken by the first gust of wind from the approaching storm.

"Well, I think my interpretation is the correct one," said Mart, as large drops of rain began to fall. "Let's go north."

"I'm not going anywhere, except back to the car," Di asserted. "Is everyone else coming?"

"Just wait. I'm thinking." A thoughtful look settled on Trixie's face. She did not even flinch when thunder crashed close by. Rain was pouring down by now and Diana was more than half-way back to her car. Still Trixie stood and stared at the inscription. "I think we should go east," she declared.

"Right now, we're going back to the cars," Brian decided, taking his sister by the arm. "It's not worth the risk."

With a regretful backward glance, Trixie let herself be taken away from the clue. Safe inside the vehicle, Trixie fidgeted at the forced inaction and picked at the dressing on her hand. After a short time, the heavy rain tailed off, leaving a few minutes of drizzle. As soon as it had stopped, Trixie got out of the car and called for everyone to join her at the first clue.

"So, we're going north, aren't we?" asked Mart, as Trixie headed to the east.

"I don't think so," she said, with a firm shake of her head. "The answer's right there. We should go east."

What do you want to do?

Should they go north? Go to part 2.31.

Should they go east? Go to part 2.32.

2.20

"I like Brian's idea," said Honey. "Let's go to the church."

Giving in with good grace, Trixie followed the rest back to the cars and let her brother take the front seat next to Jim. They were soon on the way, with Brian giving directions. Consulting the map, he chose a different route from that illustrated on the back of the cutting, which would save them considerable distance. Soon, they were gathered outside the old church.

In the many years since the church was established, the population of the area had evidently outgrown the original building. Now, a much newer and larger church stood right next door. The old church had a sign outside, declaring it to be the home of the local historical society.

"Oh, look!" said Trixie, pointing to a large notice board near the door. "There's a special display here about the history of St. Mary's."

"Yes, I saw the sign when we drove by here on the way to the house," Brian explained. "That's the other reason why I thought we'd come here - even if there's nothing in the cutting, there'll be something for us to see here."

Grumbling about the duplicity of older brothers, Trixie led the way inside. Soon, she was so absorbed with the old photographs, plans and artefacts that she had almost forgotten about her quest. As she neared the end of the display, however, a glint of light on the nearby wall caught her attention and she let out a gasp. She looked up and saw just the thing she had been looking for. "Honey," she whispered to her friend. "Just look at that!"

Honey's gaze rose to take in the beautiful stained glass window above them. In the central panel was a cross, superimposed with a jewelled crown. The jewels, made from curved pieces of glass, sparkled in the afternoon sun. Underneath the window a brass plaque was mounted, declaring that the window was dedicated to the memory of the same woman whose grave they had visited.

"There was a window made in her memory?" asked Honey, awed. "Is this what we were supposed to see?"

"I think it's a clue to where we have to go next." Trixie pointed to the crown at the junction of the cross. "Somewhere nearby, I think there'll be a crossroads. Whatever it is that the clues are leading us to, it'll be right in the middle."

"Unless you take the window in the photo you're standing in front of as the clue," said Mart, over their shoulders. "Did you even look at the sign here? It says that at the time the old lady died, there was a different window in this spot, which had been badly damaged. She left money to the church to have it replaced. Presumably, the newspaper clipping dates to the time before this window was erected."

"The clipping does, of course," Trixie countered, "but the puzzle doesn't, necessarily."

Mart shrugged and pointed to the photograph. "Still, I think it makes more sense to look at the old one. I think it's some saint, or other."

Honey leaned closer to examine the photograph of the old window, which depicted a saint, complete with traditional halo, whose eyes were fixed heavenwards. "Why didn't they just get this one repaired? Why a whole new window?"

"The old lady didn't like saints?" Trixie suggested. She turned to her brother. "So, what do you think the clue is, if that's the window we should be looking at?"

"Elementary, my dear younger sibling," he declared. "If you had been paying attention to the picture of the window, you would have noticed that the saint is looking upwards and to the left." He pointed in that direction. "The place we need to go is that balcony."

"But it's not open to the public," Honey objected. "There's a sign on the stairs saying that no one is allowed up."

Mart grinned. "But who would know if we went up quietly?"

What do you want to do?

Should they go to the crossroads? Go to part 2.33.

Should they sneak up to the balcony? Go to part 2.34.

2.21

"Let's go to the left," Brian said suddenly, fastening the middle seatbelt, rather than the one he had previously used. After a quick glance at Trixie, Jim pulled out into the street. "Take another left here."

"But the map says right at a T-intersection," Trixie objected.

"I know what I'm doing," Brian assured. "Turn right here. When we get to the next corner, pull over."

Jim followed the instructions, barely raising an eyebrow when Brian got out of the vehicle, saying "I'll be back soon." Along this stretch of road, a small group of shops was clustered. Brian went inside one of the businesses, returning shortly with a white cardboard cake box.

As soon as he was inside, Honey lifted the lid and took a peek. "Oh, Brian! Black Forest cake is my favourite. How did you know?"

While the conversation continued in the back seat, Trixie muttered "How about we dump these two somewhere and continue the investigation by ourselves?"

Before Jim could reply, there was a tap on Trixie's window and she turned to see Mart impatiently waiting. She opened the window and he asked, "What's happening? I thought we were following the map?" He glanced into the back seat and was startled to see his brother kissing Honey most thoroughly. "What's going on?"

"Don't mind them," Trixie advised. "We took a detour at Brian's direction, but he's busy now and we can get back on track."

"Fine," said Mart, taking another glance. "Hey, is that cake? I'm feeling kind of hungry."

"Trixie, can I see the road map?" Brian asked, suddenly. She handed it over and waited as a whispered conversation took place in the back. An agreement must have been reached, as Brian soon declared, "I think Honey was right. We should have gone straight ahead; then we would have come to a T-intersection. The street we should have taken after that would then be this one here, which crosses the one to the right here a little further along and we could pick up the trail from there. Mart, go back to the car; Jim, turn right here. Let's get going."

Sharing a brief look of confusion, they did as bidden and were soon under way. The journey was a short one, ending on the river-front. A short distance from shore, several yachts were moored, bobbing gently as the tide flowed by.

"This is our destination," Brian asserted, pointing to a nearby sign. "Carmichael Street. You may have noticed that the surname on the funeral notice was also Carmichael."

Trixie frowned. "But why is this our destination? It's just a park."

Brian, apparently, thought this remark beneath his consideration because he instead asked, "Jim, do you have a knife? There's a picnic bench over there, but I need something to cut the cake."

"I'll check in the trunk," Jim replied, suiting action to words. Brian and Honey also got out of the car and were soon heading for the table. Sighing in frustration at the turn of events, Trixie followed. She was just in time to hear Mart volunteer to buy drinks from a nearby store. She slumped down onto the bench seat and rested her chin on her hands.

"This calls for a celebration," Brian announced, when they had all gathered around the table. His eyes fixed on Honey's as he continued. "We've solved a mystery, and our group is about to embark on a new stage. That, after all, is what this whole trip was about. Now, who would like some cake?"

While the others clamoured for a slice, Trixie stared out across the water. She was so lost in thought that she did not even notice when Honey offered her a piece. "Earth to Trixie," she called. "Cake approaching at eleven o'clock."

"That's it," Trixie cried with a snap of her fingers. "That's the thing I was trying to remember!" She pulled out the newspaper cutting and smoothed it on the table. "The mark here next to the part about the graveside service: we were thinking it meant the place; what if it refers to the time?"

"Eleven o'clock," Honey read. "But, would that be eleven a.m., or p.m.? It doesn't actually say which, though the funeral would have been a.m., of course, but this isn't necessarily the same, is it?"

"And what would happen at eleven o'clock?" asked Brian. "Such things as positions of the sun, moon and stars, and the state of the tidal flow in the river, change between different times of the year, or from day to day. For the time to be significant, we'd need the date, as well."

"Well, I'm not going to be here at eleven at night to find out," Di declared. "If that's the plan, you can count me out."

"Me, too," Honey agreed. "I have better things to be doing- I mean, I'll probably be in bed- I mean, forget I ever said anything. I'm sure it means eleven in the morning. We can come back tomorrow and bring a picnic for lunch."

"I don't know," said Dan, tapping the paper with one finger. "That thing there looks kind of like a crescent moon. I think it means at night."

What do you want to do?

Should they return at eleven that night? Go to part 2.35.

Should they return at eleven the following morning? Go to part 2.36.

2.22

"Really," said Brian, as he fastened the seatbelt in the central seat, "I insist. Honey was right. We should go straight ahead."

"What about this intersection?" Jim asked, a short time later.

"Straight," Honey and Brian both called.

The procedure was repeated at the next three intersections. "How about if you two tell me when you want me to turn?" Jim suggested, as they approached the next potential turning.

"Fine," replied his sister, in a distracted voice.

Some time later…

"Do you think we might turn soon?" Jim asked, for at least the fifth time.

"I don't think so," Brian replied. "I think we should still go straight."

"We've been driving for over an hour," Jim complained. "We've been on the highway and gotten off again in search of your straight road. The other car went back longer ago than I care to remember and I don't recall seeing any state lines on the map we're supposed to be following."

"No, I'm sure this is right," Brian assured. "We'll be there soon."

"I don't think we'll be going anywhere, soon," Jim contradicted. "Have you looked out of the window at all in the last hour?"

Brian tore his gaze from his beloved's face for a few seconds and let out an involuntary curse. "Is there, by any chance, a severe weather warning current for this area?" In a mumble, he added, "Wherever this is."

"I don't know," Jim ground out. "I didn't have any intention of driving this far."

"I really think we'd better turn back," Honey decided, as she watched the trees outside being whipped by the wind. A few drops of rain were smashed against the windscreen. "It's looking kind of wild here and I kind of remember something about a hurricane warning, now that I come to think about it."

Jim pulled over, with a view to turning the car around. Each gust of wind brought more rain, cutting the visibility and drowning out other sounds. He waited a few moments for the traffic to clear and began to pull out from the curb. The car stopped. Behind them, there was an almighty crash.

"What just happened?" asked Honey in a small voice.

Jim's face had turned a deathly white. "A tree just fell over the road. We can't go back the way we came."

"Well, let's just get out of here," she suggested. "Just look at all the other trees that could fall."

Over the sound of the high wind, they could hear trees creaking under the stress. Up ahead, another tree crashed down, this time hitting a house. Jim drove as fast as he dared, hardly able to see through the driving rain.

As they passed a side street on the left, the wind increased markedly, pushing the car into a sideways skid. The engine roared as Jim battled to keep control, but the sound was drowned out by the howling wind. The rain, too, unhindered by trees and houses, increased. The world disappeared into a swirling wall of water. There was no road; nothing beyond the capsule of the vehicle in which they sat, except for the terrible sounds. Time and distance lost their meaning. They cleared the intersection and the relative calm returned.

"I guess that way's towards the coast," Jim remarked. "Keep your eyes out for a side street on the other side that doesn't match one on the left."

"There!" cried Honey, pointing and bouncing in her seat. "There, Jim! Let's take that street!"

"Wait!" Brian demanded. He peered through the window at the scene outside. The rain was getting heavier, the wind was getting stronger and Jim was barely managing to control the car. "That street looks like it goes uphill."

"What are we waiting for, then?" Trixie yelled back. "Uphill is good. It'll get us away from the ocean, which seems to be coming to get us."

"Oh, no!" cried Honey looking out her window. "There's water over the road! Quick, Jim! Up the hill!"

"There's been water on the road for the last ten minutes," Jim grumbled. "You're only noticing it now?"

"What I'm saying," Brian continued, "is that if we go uphill, we'll lose our shelter from the wind and I doubt that Jim will be able to steer."

"We don't have a choice," Jim replied, turning into the street. "The water's getting too deep."

A stronger gust of wind rocked the car and the engine died. Both men cursed, but neither could be heard over the sound from outside. In vain, Jim tried to restart the engine.

"The water's getting in!" Honey yelled, looking down at the floor. "This isn't a hurricane, it's a horrorcane! What do we do now?"

Outside the vehicle, water swirled. The car shuddered as something crashed into it. "We have to get out." Trixie unfastened her seatbelt and began to open her window. "The water's almost up to the windows. We need to get out right now, or we'll drown here."

A few minutes later, the four were clinging to the roof, wondering what to do next. As the waters rose, the car slowly shifted until it came to rest against the trunk of a large tree. Other debris washed past, sometimes snagging against their tree. Another car, only its roof visible, was caught in the current. On top, it also carried a passenger.

"Jim!" Honey screamed clutching at his arm with one hand. "A ferret! We have to save it!"

Looking at her as if she was insane, he resigned himself to fate and prepared to do as he was told. The other car washed closer; he reached out and grabbed the creature as it passed. "Ouch! He bit me!"

Honey cuddled the little animal to her with one hand. She tried to smile at her brother, but the rain stung so much that he did not see. For the first time since spotting the ferret, she looked down at their perch. The water had risen further in those few minutes and there was now half an inch over the top.

"We need to get off here," she yelled, looking around wildly for somewhere to go. The tree had no low branches and there was nothing else in reach. What they needed now was something that would float.

The rain was beginning to drop, now. Visibility was increasing, now up to a few yards. Out of the misty limits of what they could see, something approached on the water. "What's that?" Trixie yelled, nodding in that direction. "Is it a boat?"

Suddenly, Brian laughed aloud. "And I always thought that was an urban myth. It's a Volkswagen Beetle and it's floating. That looks like our ride."

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" asked Jim. "Wouldn't we be jumping out of the frying pan into the fire?"

What do you want to do?

Should they climb aboard the passing Volkswagen? Go to part 2.37.

Should they stay on top of Jim's car? Go to part 2.38.

2.23

"Well, I think it's the best lead we have, so we might as well follow it up. What's Uncle Mart's number, Brian?" Trixie asked.

Her brother shook his head. "I don't have it with me, Trix. You'll have to think of something else."

"Directory assistance," she decided. "Di, can I borrow your phone?" A few minutes later, Trixie had gotten the number and was impatiently waiting while it rang. "Uncle Mart? It's Trixie. I need you to- … Peter and Helen's daughter…. No, really, I'm not trying to sell you anything; I'm looking for my uncle. … I'm sorry. I must have the wrong number." Red in the face, she ended the call. "I guess you all heard that."

"You have another bright idea, Trix?" asked Mart, grinning. "Maybe we could get Mr. Carter's number from directory assistance and ask him whether he's in on some kind of plot."

"Ha ha," she muttered. "I'll just have to think of another way to get his number."

"Actually," Di murmured, "I don't think that would've worked anyway, because I don't know exactly where Mr. Carter lives."

"In that case," said Trixie, "we'll have to think of something else altogether. Let's see. We can't follow your dad, because we're too far away, and we can't get to his destination before him. We can't find anyone who can do it for us. I guess the only thing left to do is open the letter."

"We already decided not to do that." Brian's voice sounded a warning. "I think it's time you gave up on this, Trixie. Just accept that you can't solve it."

She frowned. "You always say things like that. Just because you don't see a mystery-" She broke off, as Di's cell phone began to ring.

Di stepped away from the group and held a short conversation. She returned a few minutes later, looking thoroughly chastised. "That was my father. I'm sorry I ever told you about the letter. He's so angry with us for prying into his business."

"So, do you know what the answer is?" Trixie asked, hopefully. "Did he go to Philadelphia?"

"Of course not!" Di cried. "Why would he go and visit someone right after he wrote them a letter? He's still in Sleepyside. And he wouldn't tell me a thing. I'm in a lot of trouble because of your overinflated curiosity, Trixie, so you'd better never mention this whole horrible incident again. Okay?"

"We won't," Honey assured, giving Trixie a meaningful look. "Let's just pretend that this whole incident never happened."

The End

Want to play again? Go back to Part 1.

End notes

2.24

"That's a great idea, Di," said Honey, before Trixie could object. "Maybe she knows where he is and can put your mind at rest."

Smiling at her friend, Di pulled out her cell phone and made the call. "Mummy, it's Diana. … No, everything's fine, here. I accidentally brought one of Dad's letters with me, but he's put it in the envelope the wrong way. … Yes, he does, doesn't he? I tried to call him, but his cell was turned off and Harrison said he wasn't home, but Sandy said he wasn't at work, either, so I started to worry. … He is? Oh, that's great. One other thing: I was a little worried about the part of the letter I could see. It says something about the kids not knowing something. And there's something about moving to C-a-l-something, which I thought might have been California, but then I thought the letter's to Mr. Carter and it's about his research. … Oh. Well, that's a relief. Okay, Mummy. Thanks. Bye."

"Is he home now?" Trixie demanded, almost before Di had finished speaking.

"No, he's at the Country Club. He called right after I did to say that they should take messages for him, rather than direct the calls to his office."

"And what about the letter?" Trixie was almost dancing with impatience.

Di shrugged. "Mummy says it's to do with the boys' birthday next week, and that I'll find out soon enough."

"See, Trixie?" asked Brian. "There was never anything to investigate. The packages were probably just birthday presents for Di's brothers."

"I wouldn't say there's nothing to investigate," Di disagreed with a slow smile. "Mummy did give me some clues as to what the kids don't know. From the way she said it, I think the secret must be connected to the people he's with at the Country Club."

"A birthday present for your brothers that's connected with some businessmen your father knows?" Honey asked, tapping a slender index finger against her lips. "Do you know what business they're in? Is that the clue?"

Di's eyes shone with suppressed excitement. "Not exactly. It's more to do with what one of them owns. I think I know what Dad's planning. The boys absolutely adore white water rafting and one of the men owns a vacation home right near a river with some rapids. And, Dad did tell me to keep the few days from the boys' birthday onwards completely free. I'm sure it's a surprise trip! It would be perfect. The boys and Dad can do their thing, Mummy and I can shop, and I can spend some time painting the views."

At that moment, Di's cell phone rang. "It's my Dad." She held a quick conversation with him, putting her solution to him, then the call ended. Her eyes were shining as she looked around at her friends. "I was right! It's got to be our secret, though." She sighed, in happiness. "That will be just what I need. We can have a good time together this week, then I'll spend some time with my family and relax."

"Now that everything's sorted out," Mart announced, "I think it's time we experienced that café. All in favour?"

"Aye!" they chorused.

The End

Want to play again? Go back to Part 1.

End notes

2.25

Maybe there's more to it than I thought, Di decided, looking around the table at her friends. Maybe I should at least give them the chance to convince me. Aloud, she announced, "I'm sorry I've made everything so tense. I've decided that it would be better if we talked about it."

The sudden look of hope which rose on Mart's face faded into uncertainty as the sentence drew to a close. "Do you mean that we can try to change your mind?" At her nod, he brightened. "Give me a little time to think. I'm sure that I can show you it's better to stay with us."

"We all will," Honey added. "You don't have to do it alone, Mart. None of us wants Di to go."

Jim nodded. "I can think of a compelling reason or two to stay."

"Does someone have a piece of paper and a pen?" asked Brian. "We should do this in a systematic way." Honey supplied him with the same and he headed two columns with 'Leave' and 'Stay.' "So, who has a reason why Diana should stay?"

Mart leaned forward. "To be near the rest of the Bob-Whites," he suggested. "She would have been leaving her family anyway, when she went to college. It's more important, at this stage in her life, to be near her friends."

"My family is important, too," Di reminded him. "I want to see them more often than I could if I stayed." Brian jotted one point in each column.

"You said something about education, didn't you, Brian?" Jim asked. "If you abandon the plans you've made, Di, it could take you longer to finish college, because you have to delay starting."

She sighed. "But Mart already answered that when he said I could get education anywhere. One semester, or even one year, wouldn't make all that much difference in the long run." Once again, a point was added to each side.

"We have better schools here," Mart muttered, kicking himself for inadvertently undermining his own cause.

"But I wasn't going to them, so the point is muted," Di returned. She looked around in confusion as some of the others concealed smiles. "What did I say this time?"

Honey came to her rescue, explaining with her usual tact the difference between 'moot' and 'muted.' She added, "My idea of why it would be better to stay is that you'd find the transition to college easier in a familiar environment. You don't need all the added stress."

"I'd like to see other places, too," Di disagreed. "If I stay here, I won't have the experience of living somewhere different." She looked over at Brian's notes, which were even on each side. "Are we getting anywhere? There's the same number of things in each column."

"Once you've determined the factors," Brian explained, "you need to weigh each argument against its opposite, to see which is the strongest motivator. Why don't you take a look? It might help to get things clear in your mind."

She took the page from his outstretched hand and frowned at the near-illegible script she found there. Arguments swirled back and forth through her mind. Above them all, she felt a desire for someone to make a more personal effort. The arguments they had come up with could apply to anyone. None of them were specific to Diana Lynch. Not one of them had made a case for why they needed her in their life.

"So, what do you think, Di?" asked Mart. "Will you stay with us?"

She looked from one hopeful face to another, but could not see what she was looking for. I don't really feel convinced, she thought. Aloud, she murmured, "Thank you for trying, but I think I'll stick by my original decision."

Mart's face fell. He swallowed, visibly, then walked right up to her. "Please, Di," he begged, sinking down on his knees at her feet. "Don't go. I'll do anything to convince you to stay. Anything at all."

What do you want to do?

Should Di stand firm in her decision? Go to part 2.39.

Should she give in to Mart's pleading? Go to part 2.40.

2.26

No matter how upset it makes everyone, I can't live on the other side of the country to my family! Di decided, in a rush. It'll be hard to leave the rest of the Bob-Whites, but I've always wanted to live in California and I can always come back for a visit. Aloud, she announced, "I'm sorry to upset everyone, but I really am going to move to California. I'm sure you'll have just as much fun without me."

"How can you say that?" Mart demanded, standing up so fast that his chair almost fell over. "We always miss you when you're not with us! How can you even think of leaving?"

Her gaze dropped to the cup in front of her. "I'm sure you'll get over it." It's not as if I'm your girlfriend, she silently added. It would've been different if you'd ever made a move.

"What would it take to make you stay?" he asked, walking around the table towards her. "I'll do anything you want; just name it."

Honey reached over and patted her hand. "My parents could escort you on visits every so often. Daddy does do business on the West Coast. You wouldn't have to fly alone."

"At least start college here," Brian added. "If you really miss your family, you can always transfer later."

"We would miss you," Dan told her. "No matter how many times you were left out of things, it still wasn't the same without you."

Di favoured him with a watery smile. "I'll miss all of you, too, but my mind is made up. Thanks for the offer, Mart, but I don't think there's really anything you can do to make me change my mind. I'm sorry to upset everyone. Do you think we can talk about something else for a while?"

With an effort, Honey drew the others into a discussion of their summer plans. Mart returned to his seat at the end of the table and avoided meeting anyone's eyes. In his brooding, he remained silent and neither ate nor drank.

When the conversation faltered and stopped, despite Honey's best efforts, she suggested that they return to the house. Mart stood abruptly and strode out, leaving the others to trail behind. They walked in uncomfortable silence, each disturbed by their own thoughts.

"Where's Mart?" Di asked, when they arrived back. "Did he have the keys? Or did we accidentally leave the door open when we left?"

"He must be inside," Honey decided. "Do you want me to help you look for him?"

Di shook her head. "I'll just go upstairs and drop some things in my room. I won't be a moment." She ran lightly up the stairs, with Dan following behind her. At the top, she found Mart waiting for her.

"We need to talk," he said, looking grim. "You need to know how much it will hurt me if you just leave this way."

She stepped back. "I don't think there's anything to say."

Dan tried to leave them alone, but Mart asked him, "Where do you think you're going? Back me up here, will you?"

Starting at the unexpected turn of events, Dan settled against the banister, while Mart continued his argument. "I'm serious about this, Di," he declared. "I'll do anything to prove it to you. And so will Dan."

"Anything?" asked Di.

"I will?" questioned Dan. "I don't remember saying that."

"You would, if the Bob-Whites mean anything to you," Mart told him. "Now, are you going to back me up, or not?"

What do you want to do?

Should Dan back him up? Go to part 2.41.

Should Dan bow out gracefully? Go to part 2.42.

2.27

"I'll look at the crimes," Trixie decided. "It'd be better for you to do owners, so you can check out the Hart angle."

Honey nodded in agreement. The three quickly returned to the local library, where they had arranged to meet the rest of the group, and split into the teams that Honey had assigned. Before she knew what was happening, Trixie found herself alone with Jim.

"Where were you thinking of starting?" he asked, as she stood motionless in the middle of the room.

"What? Oh, I thought we might check out an internet site I know," she mumbled, suddenly feeling off-balance. "It was printed in 1929, but Mr. Lynch doesn't think it was circulated until maybe the early to mid-1930s. We know that it started out in New York City and that it was in New York City from the mid-60s. So, either the bill didn't move very far, geographically, in the first twenty years it was in circulation, or it made its way back. I think we should start working on the assumption that it stayed; if we can't find a crime that fits, we can widen our search."

Jim nodded. "That sounds pretty good. Lead me to a computer."

Trixie smiled and went to enquire at the desk. She returned a moment later, leading him to a free terminal at the end of the row. He pulled up an empty chair from a nearby table and the two huddled together to see the screen. With barely a hesitation, Trixie brought up the site to which she had referred and began a search.

Her first attempt yielded no result. "I thought as much," she muttered. "If there had been something exactly like he told it, there's no reason why the other man couldn't have found it for himself. We'll have to widen the search." Once again, she entered the criteria.

"How are we going to sort through three hundred thousand entries?" Jim asked, when the second search completed.

"I'll narrow it down further," she replied, tapping away at the keyboard. "This is our base line, I guess. I'll search through these for cases that match any of the things we know already. It may not have been identified as a murder at the time, so I'll have to check accidental deaths and missing persons, too. When I'm done here, I'll try another site I know. Can you make a few notes when each search is done?"

Jim took a pen and paper, then jotted details of long-ago crimes as Trixie brought them up on the screen. Soon, he had a rough outline of the dozen most promising unsolved crimes in New York and the surrounding states.

"I wonder how the others are doing?" Trixie mused, tapping her index finger against the keyboard. "We could do with a little more information to narrow this down, before I start trying to find out more about these."

"Never fear, Mart is here," declared a pompous voice from behind her. "You were requiring my assistance?"

"No, smarty-pants. I wanted to talk to Di." She smiled at her brother's companion. "What do you have?"

The violet-eyed beauty leaned against the computer desk and smiled. "I called a friend of my dad's who collects money," she began.

"A numismatist," Mart supplied, only receive a frown from his sister.

"Yeah, that," Di agreed. "He's been doing some research on our $10,000 bill for Dad. Since they last talked, he's found some information for us which narrowed down the dates a little. He said that our bill didn't start circulating until 1937, at the earliest. He also said that it had probably been in the same hands for a long time before 1969. They just weren't circulating, which is one of the reasons why they stopped making them. And, he said it was in really good condition, which means it didn't get handled a lot."

"Not before 1937," Trixie muttered, as she scribbled out a few of their potential crimes. "Probably a long time before 1969. I think these are the most likely: a wealthy man who died after his best friend accidentally shot him while hunting in 1937; another wealthy man who went missing in 1952, while carrying a large amount of cash; a man whose close friend disappeared at the same time as he was murdered in 1964; and a man who lost his fortune and killed himself in 1943."

"Why is the last one on the list?" Di wondered. "That doesn't sound like our case."

Jim checked the notes and explained, "A close friend, who was with him when he died, was tried for his murder, but acquitted. The man also had a $10,000 bill with him when he died - everything he had left - but owed millions."

"I think it's the least likely," Trixie commented. "I'm more interested in the hunting accident and the man who went missing." She sighed in frustration. "I wish we'd kept a copy of the list of names. We'll have to wait for the others to come back to check for these names."

She slumped back in her chair, with such a gloomy expression that it made her friends laugh. The gloom turned to mock anger, which made them laugh even harder. So preoccupied were the quartet that they missed their friends' approach.

"Don't you want our news?" asked Brian, causing his sister to jump to her feet.

Trixie looked from Brian to Dan to Honey and settled on her best friend. "What did you find out?"

"I spoke to Mother," Honey told them, breathlessly. "I just knew the name George Alfred Hart sounded familiar. He's Mother's strange cousin - though, when I say strange, I don't really mean strange in a bad way, but strange in a disorganised and dithery way, as if he didn't have any concept of time, or other people's not wanting to waste it in waiting for him, and when I say cousin, I mean second or third cousin, two or three times removed."

"And?" prompted Trixie.

"And Mother knew that he did own the bill in the mid-sixties, or at least he owned a bill and he sold it to the next man on the list, who was a business associate of Mother's father." Her eyes shone as she delivered her trump card. "The problem is, Cousin George doesn't know where he got the bill."

"What?" three or four people asked at once.

"He's so disorganised, he didn't know where it came from. He thinks he must have inherited it from someone, but isn't sure who that might have been. He found it one day when he was cleaning out his safe. According to Mother, it could have been there for decades."

Trixie let out a sigh. "So, we're stuck there, too. I bet that's why the previous owner couldn't go back any further."

"Not exactly." Honey twirled a strand of hair around a slender index finger. "He didn't know my mother, of course. I asked her if she knew who Cousin George might have inherited from and she checked her records. There were three bequests to Cousin George on their shared side of the family up until the mid-sixties; only one of them included cash."

"But what about the other side of his family?" asked Jim. "Or, someone who wasn't related?"

Honey bounced on her toes. "That's the most convincing part. Cousin George's father stayed single until he was sixty, then married one of his maids. There wasn't any money on the other side of the family and hardly anyone dealt with them socially after that."

"And?" Trixie once again prompted.

"And it looks as if the money came from my great-great-uncle, William Hart. I never knew him, of course, since he died in 1952, and Mother didn't either, but she says that he was kind of the black sheep of the family and was always mixed up in something he shouldn't have been. So, how does that fit with what you found out?"

"Did he die in 1952, or did he go missing?" Trixie queried, staring at her notes.

"Died," Honey replied. "Mother said he had a heart attack down by the gazebo in the grounds of his house and wasn't found until it was too late. He wasn't all that old, either. He was born February 12th, 1915 and died October 7th, 1952. He inherited a fortune from his father in the 1930s, made buckets more himself, but lost plenty gambling, and lived in an enormous house with dozens of servants."

Trixie turned back to the computer and brought up the details she had previously found. "What do you think, Honey? There has to be a connection, don't you think?"

"Desmond Peter Thoroughgood: born July 31st, 1915; disappeared October 7th, 1952," Honey read. "The same age as my great-great-uncle and he disappeared the same day he died? And, look: where he lived isn't far from where my relative lived, because the house is still in the family. It just can't be a coincidence, but how do we prove it?"

"I've got a couple of ideas," Trixie replied. "It's not all that far to the area where he lived. We could go there are see if that gives us any clues, or we could try to find some relatives of Mr. Thoroughgood, who might be able to help us."

What do you want to do?

Should they explore the area where the crime was committed? Go to part 2.43.

Should they search for the missing man's relatives? Go to part 2.44.

2.28

"I'll take the owners," Trixie decided. "If it looks like Mr. Hart is involved, you can call your mother later."

Honey nodded in agreement. The three quickly returned to the local library, where they had arranged to meet the rest of the group, and split into the teams that Honey had assigned. Before she knew what was happening, Trixie found herself alone with Jim.

"Where were you thinking of starting?" he asked, as she stood motionless in the middle of the room.

"What? Oh, I was thinking of searching for the names on the internet. Maybe we can find out something about these people which will help."

Jim nodded. "That sounds pretty good. Lead me to a computer."

Trixie smiled and went to enquire at the desk. She returned a moment later, leading him to a free terminal at the end of the row. He pulled up an empty chair from a nearby table and the two huddled together to see the screen.

"Just look at them all," Jim murmured, when the search for George Alfred Hart had completed. "How will we find the right one?"

"I'll try again with different criteria," Trixie decided. After four attempts, she found a site which looked promising. The page loaded and she drew in a breath. Her jaw dropped as she read.

Jim whistled between his teeth. "A convicted counterfeiter? I hope Mr. Lynch didn't spend too much on that bill!"

"It's not certain that this is the right guy." Trixie did not sound certain that she believed her statement. "I'll try some of the other sites and see if there's someone else with the same name."

The two checked site after site, but could find no reference to any other man by the same name who could possibly be the previous owner of the bill. On the contrary, they found a number of other references to the counterfeiter, including one which gave his date of birth and mentioned a first conviction in the early sixties. Trixie let out a sigh. "I hate to give that sort of news to Mr. Lynch. Do you think the right person might have died years and years ago?"

"It's possible," Jim conceded. "I think it's far more likely, though, that the previous owner of the bill began to suspect that it was a fake and sold it while he could."

"Well, what should we do now?" Trixie wondered. She snapped her fingers and began another search. "If we could just find out exactly what the bill was supposed to look like, we might be able to find some evidence that it's a fake."

"Portrait of Salmon P. Chase on the front and the Embarkation of the Pilgrims on the reverse," Jim read. "I don't remember if that's exactly what it looked like. Are we going to take another look at the bill?"

"We'll need to get Di to open the box," Trixie muttered, while scratching notes on the appearance of the bill. "Should we just find Mart and Di, or do we need to get everyone together?"

What do you want to do?

Should they only find Mart and Di? Go to part 2.45.

Should they get the whole group together? Go to part 2.46.

2.29

"I don't care what anyone else is doing," Di declared in a shaky voice. "I'm getting out of here!" She scurried out of the dining room and towards the front door, where she thrust the key into its hole and began to struggle with the catch. "Why won't it open? Help me, someone!"

The air turned chill, despite the summer heat. The scraping sound returned, this time much louder. Honey joined Di at the door and they both struggled with the lock. "It's no use," cried Honey. "It won't budge. We need to find another way. How about a window?"

"Let me try," Trixie muttered, pushing her friends aside. "You must be doing it wrong."

"Uh, Trix," Jim interrupted, gently tapping her on the shoulder.

"Not now, Jim. I'm busy."

"Trix, I really think you should-"

She waved an impatient hand. "I'm busy. Tell me when we're outside."

"Stop," ordered a reverberant voice.

Trixie turned slowly. Beside her, Diana started to whimper in fright. A few steps away from them stood the shadowy figure of a man. The cut of his well-fitting suit gave him an old-fashioned and respectable appearance, but the forbidding expression on his face eclipsed the fact. As Trixie stared, she noticed that the wall behind him was still visible.

"Can I help you with something?" she asked, in brittle tones.

"Mine!" Once again, the low voice echoed, but the man's lips did not move. A picture detached itself from the wall and flew towards the group, smashing against the door frame right above Di's head. She squealed, as glass and pieces of frame rained down.

Trixie shot a glance at her brothers and Dan, who were visible through a nearby doorway. Dan was heaving with all his might at one of the window catches. The apparition slid closer. Dan let go of the window catch with a howl of pain. All through the house, doors slammed.

"Give me what's mine," the ghost demanded, his eyes fixed on Di.

"Is he talking to me? What does he mean?" she whispered. "I don't have anything of his!"

"Maybe we should ask him," Trixie suggested. She raised her voice. "Um, sir? Could you tell us what you're after, please?"

The ghost shifted his gaze for a fraction of a second, treating Trixie's interruption with contempt. He continued to advance.

Trixie gulped. "So much for that idea." Her eyes met Jim's. "Do you think we should offer him the money? Didn't Mart say it was at least sixty years old? This guy could be the original owner, I guess."

"He wants this," Di asked, pulling out the ten thousand dollar bill. At once, a look of greed appeared on the apparition's face. His attention shifted from Di to the insignificant slip of paper that she held and he floated closer still, one spectral hand outstretched.

Trixie nodded until her curls bounced. "It's the money he wants, not us. Give it to him and maybe he'll let us go."

"Are you crazy?" asked Di. "I'm not giving anything to a g-g-ghost!"

"Just drop it, then!" cried Trixie, scrabbling at the door latch. "If he wants it, he can pick it up!"

"Then why doesn't he just take it out of my hand?" Di demanded, her voice crackling with hysteria. "Maybe I should give it to him."

"Just do something." Trixie grabbed her by the arm and pulled. "Either drop it, or give it to him, but whatever you do, do it now!"

What do you want to do?

Should Di drop the bill? Go to part 2.47.

Should Di hand the money to the ghost? Go to part 2.48.

2.30

"Help me shift this sideboard," Trixie cried, as she slammed the dining room door. "If we can push it across the doorway, no one will be able to get in."

It took several minutes for the group to shift the heavy, old piece, but it finally rested in front of the door, holding it shut. Di heaved a loud sigh of relief and sank back into her seat. She shivered as the doorknob rattled.

"Well, I'm glad we didn't try to get out that way," Honey whispered. "Whoever that is might have caught us."

A cold wind blew through the room, scattering the cards from the table. Di shivered visibly, rose and stepped closer to Mart. The doorknob rattled once more, then the pictures on the walls began to rattle.

"What is it?" asked Di. "What's happening?"

Trixie reached out to the nearest picture and tried to stop its movement. The frame slipped from her grasp and clattered to the floor at Di's feet, causing her to squeal with fright.

"Mine!" growled a reverberant voice, from somewhere out of sight.

"Wh-who said that?" asked Honey, stepping away from the door. "It almost sounded as if he was in the room with us."

"He is in the room with us," Jim declared, in a remarkably calm tone of voice.

They all turned to look in the direction Jim indicated. A hazy figure stood in their midst, wearing a look of wrath. Di let out another squeal and pressed her back against the wall.

"I guess he doesn't want us in his house," Mart mumbled, pulling Di with him towards the window. The apparition disintegrated, then reformed between the pair and their destination. "O-kay. In that case, I think we'll stay here."

"Please," cried Di, trembling with fear, "go away!"

"Give me what's mine," the ghost demanded.

Mart put a comforting arm around Di and faced the shadowy figure. "We don't have anything of yours. Let us go."

The man made no response, seeming to ignore Mart's words. Trixie stepped a little closer and whispered to her friend, "You talk to him, Di. He's looking at you and he seemed to listen when you talked."

"No way!" she replied. "I do not make conversation with anyone with a see-through head. Not going to happen."

"Go on, Di," Trixie urged. "Negotiate with him. See if you can get him to let us out of here."

"You want me to what?" whispered Di. "I can't reason with a ghost! It was bad enough when I thought you just wanted us to have a chat!"

"Well, do you have any other ideas?" asked Trixie.

"Running away?" Di suggested. "Running away looks pretty good, right now. I'm sure Trixie could come up with an escape plan, if she tried."

"I don't know," said Jim. "I don't think he wants us to leave. It could cause more trouble than it solves."

What do you want to do?

Should they try to escape? Go to part 2.49.

Should they try to reason with the ghost? Go to part 2.50.

2.31

Grumbling good-naturedly, Trixie followed her brother's lead and headed for the north. Soon, they came across a park bench with a small sign attached, reading 'Grow, yawn, disorientated. Come back with profit.'

"See," said Mart. "We're on the right track. This means we go east - because the Orient is the East - through the undergrowth on the other side of the road, and when we come back, we'll have discovered the treasure, or whatever it is that we're looking for. Let's go."

"I think I might sit this one out," said Di, looking around for somewhere dry to wait. "You go ahead, Mart."

"I'll come with you, Di," said Honey. "Let's go back to the cars."

"I'm not so sure about this, Mart," Brian grumbled, as they started off through the long grass. "I get the feeling that we're making a big mistake."

"Trust me," he replied. "I know what I'm doing. We'll just keep heading east until the undergrowth thins out. It'll be a piece of cake."

By this time, the grass was more than knee-deep and the ground underfoot was becoming muddy. Insects buzzed around their faces. In a few more steps, Mart was at the edge of the river, his shoes sinking into the thick, sticky mud.

"See, this is exactly where we're supposed to be," he proclaimed. "Growth is disorientated. Just like it said."

"There's a mosquito on your back," said Trixie, giving him a slap hard enough to throw him off balance. "Oh, I'm sorry, Mart! I didn't mean to push you in."

"I guess I'm not the one who gets to profit," Mart grumbled, shaking mud and water from his hands. "And, whatever the reward was, I don't think I'm going to find it, now."

"I don't know about that," Trixie replied. "That mud-pack you're wearing could do wonders for your skin. You weren't to know that you'd gone the 'grow, yawn, disorientated!'" And before he could retaliate, she skipped out of the way.

The End

Want to play again? Go back to Part 1.

End notes

2.32

"The clue was 'Direction in time a star rises.' Mart was right about 'direction' being the straight clue, but it's got nothing to do with the North Star. The answer, east, is hidden right there: T-I-M-E-A-S-T-A-R. The direction was in the next few words. And stars rise in the east, just like the sun does," Trixie explained. "So, what are we waiting for?"

It took only a minute for the group to find the small cairn to the east, overlooking the river, and take in its inscription: 'Tutankhamen eats rib and half of canary feeder.'

"Not another one," cried Di. "This one makes even less sense."

"Obviously, we're supposed to give up now and go get something to eat," said Mart, turning back towards the cars.

Honey frowned at the words. "Should I be looking for more anagrams? 'Eats' could turn into 'east,' or 'eats rib' could be 'baiters.' Or, if it's hidden words, I can see tank, ankh, ham, am, amen, men, neat, at, band, den, can and an."

"Eats could refer to one word being inside another," Brian suggested. "Or, you could be right about it being part of an anagram."

"Oh! I get it!" cried Di, pointing to the words and covering some of the letters. "It's so simple, when you know what to look for. We're going over there." She pointed to the south, where the park ended as the waters of the river and stream met.

Trixie let out a groan as she figured out how the clue worked, before turning her steps in the direction Di had indicated. They soon reached a park bench, which was turned to look out over the water, and read its sign: 'Rise to spinning toy on apex.'

"I'm sure I know what this one means," Mart declared. "We need to wade across the stream to that house and climb on top of the roof."

"Are you sure?" Honey asked, frowning slightly. "That doesn't sound like something I'd want to do."

"Of course," he said, airily. "Apex is another word for top, and on top of that roof is a weather vane, which spins, and the clue says 'rise,' which means we should climb up there to it."

"Yes, but 'rise' is also a word for 'hill'," said Di. "And a spinning toy is a top. I think we're going up that way, this time." She smiled sweetly at Mart, before leading the way in that direction.

When they reached the top of the slope, they found a sign, which read, 'Mary Carmichael Memorial Garden'. In small letters underneath was the clue 'They say that northern Europeans have ending.' Sunlight glistened on the damp leaves and reflected off the ripples in the river far below. The whole world looked clean and bright.

"In case you're wondering, Mart," said Di, with a smile, "that doesn't mean we should set off for Sweden. The answer we're looking for this time is Finnish."

The End

Want to play again? Go back to Part 1.

End notes

2.33

"Let's get going," Trixie called to the rest of the group, as she headed out the door. "Next stop: the crossroads."

"What crossroads?" Brian asked, in confusion. "What are you talking about, Trixie?"

She sighed with impatience. "I found the next clue and that's the answer. The crossroads is the last place in the puzzle. It's the destination."

"But which crossroads?" he insisted.

"I don't know! We'll find out when we get there." Without waiting for an answer, she went outside. It took several minutes for the rest to join her and she spent the whole time pacing back and forth. When, finally, Jim arrived with the car keys, she snatched them from him to get inside quicker and reach the map. After a few minutes searching, she found what she was looking for. "Let's try that one. The junction of Mary Street and Crown Street. That just has to be it."

Jim studied the map for a minute, to check the best route, before setting off. It took only a few minutes to reach their destination. Four respectable, but quiet, businesses occupied the corners; one was a funeral home. The whole area was neat, clean and nondescript.

"There's nothing here, is there?" Trixie sighed in disappointment.

Mart came up beside her and leaned on Jim's car. "I guess this is what you call a dead end," he quipped, with a nod to the funeral home.

"Hardy har har," said his sister.

"You can't solve the mystery every time, Trix," Honey comforted. "We must have made a wrong turn somewhere. Maybe we can try again, later."

"Maybe, next time," Trixie replied, "you'll all listen to me."

The End

Want to play again? Go back to Part 1.

End notes

2.34

"So, how does this work?" Honey whispered, as the three loitered near the staircase.

Mart took a look at the elderly attendant, who was fully occupied at the other end of the little church. The stairs faced away from the man, giving them the opportunity to reach the top unseen. Once upstairs, they should be able to reach any point of the upper level, which ran around three sides of the building. "I think that only one of us should go up at a time, otherwise he'll hear us. Then, the first person can come down and the next go up. How does that sound?"

"Seeing as it's your idea," said his sister, with a grin, "you can go first."

"Okay," he replied. "Cover for me?"

"Of course." As her brother mounted the stairs, Trixie wandered in the opposite direction, calling, "Take a look at this, Hon." There was a long pause, while she held up a desultory conversation, followed by a loud clattering. She turned to see her brother lying in a heap at the bottom of the stairs.

"Aargh!" yelled Mart, clutching at his ankle.

"Now, see here, young man," scolded the attendant, arriving at a trot, "there's a reason why nobody is allowed up in the loft and that's because the stairs are so slippery that you almost can't help but fall down them. Kindly remember, in future, that such directions are meant to be obeyed. Now, I must ask you to leave."

"Aargh!" Mart repeated. His brother knelt to examine the leg. "Stop it, Brian. That hurts! Aargh!"

"I think it's broken," Brian pronounced. He turned to the attendant. "Could you please tell me where to find the nearest doctor?"

"Just great," muttered Trixie, as one brother continued to yell and the other discussed medical options. "Now we'll never know what's up there."

"Yes, we will," Honey replied. "Look at this!" She pointed to a photograph, evidently taken from the part of the loft that Mart had been aiming for. It showed the church at an earlier time, before it was replaced by the new building. Afternoon sunlight through the stained glass windows cast patches of red, blue and green over the pews and floor. The windows themselves were partly obscured by the part of the balcony which was opposite. Lower parts of the building, foreshortened by the angle from which they were viewed, took on different shapes.

Trixie smiled. "You're right, Honey. The answer was down here all along. I think we can fairly safely assume that this whole puzzle is to do with the lady in the funeral notice." She paused to draw four lines in the air in front of the photograph. "Her name was Mary, and this part of the building behind us, when you see it from the balcony, looks like an 'M'."

"Poor Mart." Honey glanced at him in sympathy, as he let out another yell. "He paid quite a price for not paying enough attention."

The End

Want to play again? Go back to Part 1.

End notes

2.35

The river-front was quiet, dark and seemingly deserted when a small group of the Bob-Whites arrived that night. Once the engine of Dan's car was silenced, the only sounds came from the crickets and the soft splashing of the water. A lone street light cast a small pool of light over them, but did nothing to illuminate the park, or the water beyond.

Trixie was the first one out of the car, calling impatiently to the three men with her, "What are you waiting for?" Jim, Dan and Mart shared a look, before following her out into the dark.

"Slow down, Trix," Jim called, as she disappeared into the shadows. "You don't know where you're going."

Just up ahead of him, she came to a sudden stop. "Um… let's get back to the car." She hustled the other three back the way they had come, despite their protests of having only just gotten there.

"Do you care to explain that behaviour?" Mart demanded, as Dan unlocked the door.

"We weren't alone," Trixie mumbled, miserably. "As soon as my eyes adjusted to the dark, I knew what the message meant."

"Are you going to enlighten us?" asked Mart, when it became clear that she would say no more. Leaning against the passenger side door, Dan began to quietly laugh. Mart shot him an irritated look.

"It was a rendezvous," she admitted.

"Written on a funeral notice?" asked Jim. "Tacky."

"And you couldn't figure this out without dragging us down here at eleven o'clock at night?" Mart wanted to know.

"Well, how was I to know this is the local equivalent to Lover's Lane?" cried Trixie. "And, anyway, you didn't have to come along. I didn't drag anyone anywhere."

"Since we're here, it seems a shame not to take advantage," said Jim. "So, Dan, do you want to kiss her, or should I?"

"What?" demanded the Belden siblings, together.

"Maybe we both should," Dan replied, in apparent seriousness. He moved to stand on Trixie's left, while Jim stood on her right.

"What do you think you're doing?" asked Trixie, trying to back away.

"And what makes you think I want to watch?" added Mart.

Laughing hard, the two men each caught one of Trixie's arms and in turn dropped a kiss on her cheek. "Mission accomplished," Jim announced. "Let's go home."

The End

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End notes

2.36

Spirits were high as they headed towards the river. A morning spent planning the perfect picnic had given the Bob-Whites a big appetite and they were looking forward to a fun day.

"So, what do you think will happen at eleven o'clock?" Honey asked, as the three girls travelled along in Di's car. "Do you think we'll we be able to tell what the message meant?"

"I've been thinking about that," Trixie replied, "and I think Brian was right, in a way. I think the event that the cutting was about already happened years ago. I don't think that being there at eleven this morning is going to help us any with that."

"So, why are we still going?" asked Honey, smiling at her friend in bemusement. "I thought you wanted to solve the mystery."

"Oh, I figured that out last night. It was a meeting with Dinah Purdy, to talk about Greta. That's pretty much what it said in the diary." Trixie waved the matter away with a careless hand. "What I'm interested in now, is something I saw yesterday afternoon, but didn't really notice at the time. Down by the water there's a little shack and I thought I saw a man sneaking around down there."

Diana let out an inelegant groan. "Can't we have just one day without you seeing something mysterious, Trixie?"

"I hope not," she replied, with a big grin.

"Tell me again why we're doing this," asked Honey, as she and Trixie sidled along the muddy riverbank towards the derelict building. Diana had flatly refused to accompany them and had remained at the car, waiting for the rest of the group to arrive.

"Because it looked fishy," Trixie replied. "People don't normally sneak around in public places."

Honey suppressed the urge to point out that they were doing exactly that. "Fishy is right, but not the way you mean. Someone's been fishing here - look! they've left behind the bits they didn't want. I guess that's all he was doing."

Stubbornly, Trixie refused to give up on a potential mystery that easily. "I'll just take a look around." She peeked inside the shack, but before her eyes could adjust to the dimness inside, a loud voice said, "Boo!"

Trixie was so surprised, that she took a step backwards, catching her feet in a discarded tangle of fishing line. She spun around, trying to stay on her feet, but soon fell in a heap - right on top of the pile of fish guts. In the doorway of the shack, an old man stooped, laughing hard.

"That'll teach you to come snooping around here," he wheezed. "Next time, mind your own business!"

The End

Want to play again? Go back to Part 1.

End notes

2.37

"It's coming this way," Jim yelled. "Brian and I'll hold it steady and everyone else can climb on."

When the moment arrived, Trixie was on first. Honey passed up the ferret, before clambering onto the other car. "Come on, Jim! Brian!" The car rocked, and the ferret almost fell off, when Jim let go. As gently as they could, both men boarded at once and a moment later, the current took them away.

The rain was almost gone, now, though the wind was still strong and the droplets stung as they blasted against the four on the car. They had not gone far when an almighty crash sounded. For several seconds, the sound of creaking metal filled the air.

"Oh, my stars!" Honey exclaimed, over the top of the curses that the other three emitted. "If we hadn't gotten on here, we'd-" She shook her head, unable to express what would have happened. "Whatever that was, it's completely wiped out your car, Jim."

"I'm just glad we're on here, and not over there," he replied. Turning to watch where they were going, he added, "There's a bridge over the road up ahead. Do you think that we should try to catch it?"

"Yes!" cried Trixie. "Look! There's people up there, and they're lowering ropes."

Fifteen minutes later, the four were on top of the bridge, looking for more people to rescue. A quick glance over the other side of the bridge had been enough for Trixie. If they had ended up in the water beyond here, the chances of survival would be slim. As the crisis ended, she was simply glad that she had made the right choice.

The End

Want to play again? Go back to Part 1.

End notes

2.38

Afterwards, no one ever came up with a satisfactory explanation of why they were even in the path of the hurricane. Without their own account of the situation, there was little to go on. For many years, Helen Belden lived on the hope that since there were no bodies recovered, they might have survived somehow.

For the rest of the Sleepyside community, it remained a tragedy. Four young lives lost for no apparent reason. All for nothing.

The End

Want to play again? Go back to Part 1.

End notes

2.39

"Mart! I don't want you to beg," Di cried, turning her back. "That's enough. You've tried, but you haven't convinced me. You can stop now."

"Okay, then," he rose and strode around to face her, "I'll come with you. If you won't stay here with me, I'll go there with you. How would that be?"

Her mouth dropped open. "You'd do that? For me?"

He smiled, gently. "Of course."

A brilliant smile lit Di's face and she gave Mart a big hug. He pulled up a chair and they sat down together to make plans for their journey. Feeling a little left out, Trixie gathered her belongings and stood to leave, almost knocking into Jim as she did so. The contemplative look on his face startled her and she blurted out, "What is it?"

"I was just wondering what I'd do if it was you who was leaving," he told her, in a soft voice, "and how you might react if I used the same tactic as Mart just did." Together, they began to make their way back to the house.

Trixie's faced reddened. "Don't be silly, Jim. If I was leaving, you'd just get on with your life. It wouldn't matter."

"What makes you think that?" he asked, dumbfounded. "Of course it would matter."

She looked up at him, unable to formulate any answer to his assertion. It seemed to her so completely unlikely that he would take the same attitude that Mart had done for Di. It seemed so much more probable that everyone else would be just as happy without her to get them all into trouble and volunteer them for things they did not want to do.

"I wouldn't let you go, either," Jim insisted, taking her silence for a rebuttal. "Trixie, if you decided to move across the country, I'd follow you. I hope you'd do the same for me."

She stared at him, open-mouthed, for a long moment. "I- I guess so," she finally agreed. "Yes, of course I would. I don't want us to ever be apart."

"You don't?" he asked, stepping closer. "Does that mean…?" They had, by now, reached the house. A quick glance over his shoulder told Jim that the others were close behind them, so he took her by the hand and led her around a corner and out of sight. Seeing acceptance in her eyes, he leaned down and kissed her.

Her lungs seemed to have lost the ability to hold air. There were words that she wanted to say, but they would not line themselves up into proper sentences. Finally, the fog in her brain cleared and she came out with, "I thought you'd never do that!"

Jim laughed. "I was beginning to think so, too." Before either of them could think of anything further to say, he decided to repeat the performance. As their kisses deepened, the heat between them began to rise.

"I don't ever want us to be apart," Trixie repeated, rather breathlessly. "Promise me we'll always be together."

"I promise," Jim replied, kissing her some more. A thought occurred to him and he pulled away. "Trixie, I know a little place in Las Vegas, with an Elvis impersonator. Maybe we should fly down there and get married."

"I'm not being married by an Elvis impersonator," Trixie whispered, terrified that one of her brothers would hear her. "You've got to be kidding!"

Jim grinned. "Okay, forget Elvis. How about you, me and a wedding chapel. Together forever, just like I promised. We could get a flight there tonight, get married and be back before the end of the week. They'd never know where we'd gone, even if they guessed we were getting married."

Trixie gave him a long, hard look, then kissed him so long that she started to feel dizzy. "Yes!" she cried. "Yes, Jim. We'll do that. I can hardly wait!"

"It's got to be our secret, though," he warned. "Not a word to anyone, not even Honey."

"It's a deal," she replied with a grin. "They'd just try to convince us not to if we told them, and I don't want to be convinced."

"Neither do I." Jim kissed her some more. When they finally stopped, his face showed his regret. "We really need to get back to the others, or they'll suspect that something is going on."

"So soon?" Trixie smiled at him impishly. "Just a little while longer."

When they finally returned, it was to discover that the rest of the group had planned a series of activities for the rest of their time away. "And, of course, we'll all have to do everything together," Honey explained, "because Mart and Di will be leaving us so soon, so we won't have the chance to do things together again for a long time. Is that okay?"

Trixie looked up at Jim, a question in her eyes. What should I say? she wondered. If I say it's okay, we'll have to change our plans, but I can't say why it's not okay. So, what do I say?

What do you want to do?

Should Trixie say it's okay? Go to part 2.51.

Should Trixie disagree with the plan? Go to part 2.52.

2.40

"Okay, Mart, that's enough!" Di cried. "I'll stay, okay? You don't have to beg."

"Whoopee!" he cried, throwing his arms around her and spinning her until she was dizzy. "Thank you, Di! Thank you so much!" In front of everyone, he planted a huge kiss right on her lips. "You won't regret this, I promise."

Trixie's mouth dropped open, as her brother and Di kissed once again, oblivious to their audience. Honey grabbed Trixie's arm and pulled her away. "Give them a little time to themselves," she whispered.

"I think I need time to myself," Trixie muttered. She looked at her best friend and made a decision. "Sorry, Honey. I think I really do need a little time to myself. I think I'll take a walk."

Honey nodded and sat down next to Brian, turning her back on the happy couple. Trixie walked outside and wandered down the street in the opposite direction from the house. So distracting were her thoughts that, by the time she had been gone half an hour, she was completely lost.

Now I've done it, she thought to herself, suddenly noticing that nothing around her was familiar. How do I get back? She turned a corner and stopped short. Not far away, a familiar car was parked. Her steps quickened, but when she reached the car, which belonged to the Wheelers, she found it empty. There was no clue as to the occupant of the vehicle, or which of the nearby businesses they might be patronising. Just my luck. Someone I know is around here somewhere, but I guess I'll have to wait for them to come back.

She sank down under a nearby tree to wait. After only a few minutes, she saw Tom Delanoy approach with a package. "Hello, stranger," he called. "What are you doing here?"

Trixie shrugged sheepishly. "I took a walk, but forgot to take notice where I was going. I guess I'm lost," she admitted.

"I'll drop you back after we're finished here," he promised. "You can wait in the car. We won't be long."

Tom opened the rear door for her and Trixie gratefully climbed in. She was soon lost in thought once again. The opening of the other rear door brought her back to the here and now with a jolt.

"Trixie!" Regan stopped mid-action while climbing in beside her. "What are you doing here? I didn't see you."

Once again, she had to explain her predicament. This time, it was greeted with soft laughter. "You can't even take a walk without making an adventure of it, can you?" He settled himself more comfortably in the seat and asked, "May I ask what caused you to be so distracted?"

She let out her breath in a rush. "You wouldn't believe what my brother's been up to! Di was talking about moving to California, and he's been doing everything he can to convince her not to."

"I can assume, by brother, you mean Mart?"

Trixie nodded. "He even got down on his knees and begged, right in the middle of a café. That's when she decided not to go. So, he kissed her. And that's when I…" Her cheeks reddened. "Anyway, I'm not like Di and I doubt that anyone would try that hard to convince me not to go away."

"I don't know about that. You're pretty special, too."

"Not in a stunning-Diana-Lynch way, though. I don't have men falling on their knees in front of me, let me tell you!" She shook her head, as if to send the thought flying. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have bothered you about that."

Without warning, Regan leaned down and softly kissed her. Trixie was struck speechless and simply stared up at him in shock. There were too many thoughts and emotions to sort through, and no words that could do them justice.

"I'm sorry," he said, backing away from her as best he could. "I shouldn't have done that."

"I didn't mind," she replied, still sounding stunned. "Actually, I liked it."

Another thought must have occurred to him, because he began to peer through the windscreen. "Really, I shouldn't have. I'm on Mr. Wheeler's time and if he finds out-" He drew a finger across his neck. "It's got to be our secret, Trixie. I mean it. No one can ever know."

"Okay," she agreed, though reluctantly. The myriad possibilities which had opened up before her evaporated.

After quickly checking that the coast was still clear, he put a finger under her chin to raise her eyes to his. "That doesn't mean I can't kiss you again when I'm not on Mr. Wheeler's time," he explained.

"It doesn't?" Another thought drew a pained look onto her face. "Oh! But you'll be going back to Sleepyside and I've only just got here."

"Patience," he counselled, barely able to contain his amusement. "It won't be that long." From the look on her face, she clearly did not believe him. "Besides, Mr. Wheeler has more business to do than he can handle in one day. He and Tom and I will be staying overnight. Contrary to popular opinion, I'm not on duty 24 hours a day."

"You're not? Could've fooled me," she laughed.

"Do you want to meet me tonight, or not?" he asked, in a stern voice.

Trixie grinned. "Of course I do. Your place or mine?" Seeing his look of disbelief, she clarified, "Shall we meet somewhere, or will you come to the house and get me?"

What do you want to do?

Should Trixie and Regan choose a meeting place? Go to part 2.53.

Should Regan collect Trixie from the house? Go to part 2.54.

2.41

"Yeah," Dan declared, suddenly. "I'll back you up, Mart. Di, Mart and I'll do anything to make you reconsider your decision. We really want you to stay."

"Okay," she replied, looking thoughtful. "Either you do what I ask, or you both promise to stop bothering me about my decision. Deal? If you really want to prove to me that you're serious about convincing me to stay, you'll spend the rest of today dressed in women's clothes, which Honey, Trixie and I will supply, and you'll go everywhere that the rest of us go."

"What?" asked Dan. "No way! I'm not dressing in drag."

"You did say anything," Di reminded him sweetly. "I guess that means you'll both leave me in peace."

"Wait," said Mart. "Give me a few minutes, Di, and I'll convince him. I said I'd do anything, and I meant it."

Dan scowled. "There's nothing on earth that would convince me to do that."

Some time later…

"I can't believe I let you talk me into this," Dan grumbled to Mart, as he adjusted the frill across the shoulder of his sky blue dress. "You owe me, big time."

"It'll be worth it," Mart assured. He wobbled slightly, as he tried to walk in the second-hand shoes that the girls had delivered a few minutes ago. "You didn't want Di to live on the other side of the country, either. Admit it."

Dan did not dignify the accusation with a reply, but instead put on his long, dark brown wig and headed downstairs. Smiling to himself, Mart followed. When they reached the front porch, where the rest of the group waited, they were greeted with gales of laughter from the three girls.

"Oh, Dan!" Honey cried. "I wouldn't have recognised you. You make such an attractive girl!"

"I still think it's a pity we couldn't find a curly blonde wig," Di laughed. "Mart would look enough like Trixie to be Trixie."

Jim looked distinctly uncomfortable. "I'm not at all sure about this," he said. "Maybe we should just stay here. I don't think we should make them leave the house."

Trixie grinned. "But that's half the fun! Let's go. I want to see what happens when they have to walk down the street."

"You're going to pay for this, Mart," Dan grumbled.

Brian stood and considered the scene for a moment. "I think I'll stay here," he decided. "The rest of you can go ahead."

"I'll stay with you," said Jim, smiling weakly. "You can have a girls' afternoon."

Sending dirty looks after their compatriots, Mart and Dan followed the girls to Di's car and climbed into the back seat, with Honey between them. "The least you could do is not make us walk too far," Dan pleaded. "These shoes are at least a size too small and my feet are killing me already."

"We already have the afternoon planned." Di smiled at them over her shoulder. "It won't be too demanding, I promise." The burst of giggles from Honey and Trixie did nothing to reassure them.

Before long, their destination became clear. Di parked the car near a racetrack and ordered everybody out. "Your mission," she told the two men, "is to mingle among the crowds. The three of us are going to stand somewhere and watch."

Grumbling loudly, Mart and Dan started off in the direction indicated, both struggling to stay upright in heels. Behind them, they could hear gales of laughter from their friends.

"The only way we're going to blend in," Dan whispered, "is to stand still and hope no one looks at us. There's a place over there against the wall where we could stand and be out of the way. Let's go."

The plan worked for some time, with the two barely receiving a glance from the passers-by. As they became more comfortable with their situation, the two relaxed a little. Dan leaned back against the wall, trying to take the weight off his sore feet. Mart moved along a little, to lean on a nearby railing and put his hand down without looking.

"Miaow!" An indignant bundle of silky white fur took her tail from under Mart's hand, favoured him with a look of utter disdain through her particoloured eyes, and disappeared around a corner.

"Aargh!" cried Mart, jumping back and almost falling off his heels.

"Shut up! Shut up! Everyone's looking at us," Dan hissed. "What did you have to yell like that for?"

"I- there- my hand-" Mart sputtered. "It was a cat!"

"I saw that," Dan replied. "You're not afraid of cats are you? That's just plain weird."

"And I could've sworn it was wearing a tiara," Mart continued, regardless.

Dan shook his head. "Just be quiet, okay? You've attracted enough attention already."

They had barely recovered their composure when a familiar voice called to someone, "Okay, I'll be back at the car." Then, the owner of the voice barrelled into Dan.

"I'm sorry, Miss," said Regan, looking embarrassed. "I didn't see you there."

"Quite all right," Dan squeaked, in what he hoped was a girlish voice. He ducked his head, trying to look very shy, and the long hair of his wig swung forward to cover part of his face. He breathed a silent sigh of relief as his uncle moved on.

"That was close," Mart whispered, and Dan noticed that his friend had turned bright red. "Let's get out of here before he comes back."

The two walked as quickly as they could, considering their unfamiliar footwear, towards the car. They stopped in the shade of a large tree to check that the coast was clear before taking the last half a dozen steps. To their horror, they saw Mr. Wheeler's car parked only a few places from Di's. Outside it, Regan and Tom were having a conversation.

"I saw you bumping into those girls over there," they heard Tom tease. "I'm surprised you didn't try to pick one of them up."

"It was just an accident." Regan's tone was clipped, but there was a twinkle in his eye. "Besides, they weren't my type."

"What are we going to do?" Mart whispered. "Obviously, they're waiting for Honey's father and he might recognise us if he sees us, or Tom might, if he sees us. We can't stay here, but we can't get back to the car."

Dan took in their surroundings. The girls, he noticed, were sitting in Di's car. By the way that they were slumped down in their seats, he deduced that they, too, had seen Tom and Regan. A group of young women was walking towards them, and would probably soon block them from the other men's view. A quick glance over his shoulder confirmed their theory about Mr. Wheeler, as he was fast approaching. The only other way was up, but climbing trees seemed a lot more daunting in a dress.

"Either we try to blend in with that group of girls," he suggested, "or, we wait until Mr. Wheeler's gone."

What do you want to do?

Should they try to get back to the car? Go to part 2.55.

Should they stay were they are? Go to part 2.56.

2.42

"Actually, Mart," Dan said, softly, "I think this is your battle. I'll stay out of it."

"How dare you?" Mart demanded. "I thought you were my friend, but you've betrayed me, like everyone else." Without another word, Mart threw a punch, catching Dan in the ribs. Before long, the two were rolling around on the floor, landing punches wherever they could reach.

"Stop it!" cried Di. "Please, don't fight!" When it became clear that they were taking no notice, she ran from the room to seek help.

"Take that!" Mart's fist connected with Dan's body, causing him to stagger backwards. "I'm sure it was you who kissed Di in the clubhouse three years ago!"

"I might have," Dan admitted, throwing another punch, "but it didn't mean anything."

Mart rushed at the other man, blinded by fury. Dan caught him by the shirt and pulled hard. Buttons flew in all directions and a seam gave way. He shrugged out of the tattered remnants and aimed his fist at Dan's face. The other man dodged, leaving Mart flying towards empty air. Mart grabbed at Dan's shirt to save himself from falling, but landed on the floor anyway, with the shirt in his hand.

"Now I'm really mad," Dan yelled. "I paid good money for that shirt!"

Mart cried out in pain as blow after blow connected with his body. He flailed at the other man, occasionally landing a blow. Blood was trickling from his nose and the world was beginning to get fuzzy when strong arms pulled Dan away.

"Let me at him!" Mart yelled, as Brian tried to check his injuries. Across the room, Jim was holding Dan back.

Honey raced into the room and asked, "What's happening?" As she took in the scene, her expression turned from curiosity to dismay.

"It's all over," Brian said, in a quiet voice.

"Over? They were fighting? Without shirts? Why didn't you let them keep fighting long enough for me to see it?" she whined. "Or, at least, came and got me earlier."

"This is a serious situation." Brian continued to check his brother over for injuries. "One of them could have been badly hurt."

"You should have known that I'd like to see them fighting bare-chested," she continued. "I always miss out on the excitement."

"Honey," he warned, "I don't want to hear you talking that way." Apparently satisfied that Mart was unharmed, he pulled his brother to his feet. "Now, I'd like you two to apologise to each other and come downstairs. We have a visitor."

"Nobody told me about a visitor," Honey complained, as the others made a truce.

The five made their way downstairs, to find Diana and Trixie conversing with an attractive, dark-haired man. His dark eyes lighted on Honey as she descended the stairs and she hissed to Brian, "You should have told me about him sooner."

"Everyone," called Trixie, "this is Luis. He says he has something to tell us."

"Si," said the man. "I have come to seek my lost half-brother and I have found him."

For a moment, there was confusion, as they looked from one to another. Most eyes eventually settled on Dan. "What?" he asked. "I'm sure it's not me that he's talking about."

"No," said Brian. "It's me."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Honey's tone of voice grated on the ears of her listeners. "No one ever tells me anything important."

"But, how can this be?" asked Trixie, ignoring her friend. "I didn't know we had a half-brother."

"You do have a half-brother, but it isn't Luis." Brian took a deep breath. "I am your half-brother."

"What?" demanded Mart and Trixie together.

"I get left out of everything!" Honey wailed.

Brian began to pace back and forth. "I have known about this for some time. You may have wondered why I strongly resemble Dad, and the two of you and Bobby strongly resemble Moms." He stopped and turned to them. "Helen Belden is not my mother."

"But how did this happen?" asked Trixie.

"Why didn't anyone tell me?" added Honey.

"My birth mother lives in Mexico," Brian continued. "Dad met her while on a business trip, and she asked him to take me home with him after I was born. She could not afford to keep me because she already had many other children, including Luis."

"And now I have come to send you home to my mother," he announced. "Brian, you must go to Meh-hee-co, to see her before she dies."

"I see," Brian replied. "Of course, I will go." He paused, thinking. "I would like to go alone. I'll go upstairs and pack."

"But I want to come, too!" cried Honey. "Everyone always leaves me behind."

What do you want to do?

Should Brian go to Mexico alone? Go to part 2.57.

Should he take Honey? Go to part 2.58.

2.43

Half an hour later, two vehicles stopped across the street from a palatial home surrounded with immaculate gardens. Vast wrought iron gates in the high wall around it were securely locked. Honey, who was in the back seat of the lead car, gestured to show her companions in the other car that this was the place. "There won't be anyone there at the moment," she explained. "They're spending the summer in Europe. I'm pretty sure that the whole place is closed up."

"What now?" asked Jim, from the driver's seat. "Should we take a look at the missing man's house, if we can?"

"It should be just around the corner." Trixie took her eyes off the grand house for a moment to consult the map. "It doesn't look far, but we should at least check. Let's go."

In a few minutes, they had reached the address that Trixie had found, but there was no sign of the missing man's former residence. Behind a six foot fence, workmen were laying foundations for a new house, of substantial proportions. Groaning with frustration, Trixie hopped out and began to look around.

A man walked out of the next house and headed for a car, which was parked outside. "Excuse me!" Trixie called. "Could you tell me about the place here, please? I thought there should have been a house there already, not one being built."

"It burnt to the ground a year or two back," the man replied, climbing into his car and slamming the door.

"Thank you," she called, even though he probably would not hear. She got back into Jim's car and told him to drive. "Find somewhere we can talk; I think I have a plan."

"How about that burger place?" Brian suggested a few minutes later. "It's getting late and Mart's sure to be hungry by now."

"That will fit in perfectly," Trixie decided. "We really need to wait a while until we can put my plan into action."

Jim shot her a worried glance. "And what is this plan, exactly?"

She took a deep breath. "Well, I was thinking that since Honey's uncle was found in the grounds of his house, and the man who went missing didn't live very far away, and it's possible that they were friends - like the story said - that the missing man visited Honey's uncle, but he betrayed him - like in the story - and was disposing of the body when he had the heart attack, so maybe the body is still there in the grounds of the house and if we can go and take a look around, we might be able to guess where it might be."

"What makes you so sure that the body is still hidden?" Brian asked. "It could have been found years ago."

"Mostly because I also searched on unidentified bodies," his sister replied. "I didn't find any reference to one in this area in the time since 1930."

"I'm not sure I want to think that my great-great-uncle was a murderer," Honey objected, "and I know that we can't all go in there uninvited, especially since I know that my relatives are away and there wouldn't be anyone there to ask if we could search their grounds, not that I'd tell them why we wanted to do that anyway. So, do you think that you and Jim should go together and the rest of us can wait for you, Trixie?"

Both Trixie and Jim reddened slightly at this obvious match-making attempt. Jim managed to mutter, "That would be okay, I guess," while Trixie nodded her agreement.

Dusk was falling as Jim scaled the wall surrounding the property, while Trixie perched on the top. They had found an area which was less-rigidly maintained, in which a few lush shrubs masked their position. Jim dropped to the ground and reached up to help Trixie down next to him.

"Which way?" he asked, in a low voice. Honey had given them directions, but they had not made much sense to Jim.

Trixie nodded to the right, away from the house. After a few minutes of hugging the fence line, they branched out towards the more formal area of the garden. High hedges lined the path that they took. The decorative gravel underfoot made alarmingly loud sounds under the lightest tread. A circular area opened up, marking the meeting point of four paths. Neat garden beds edged an inner circle, in the midst of which was a fountain.

Trixie peered down the other three paths, and then chose the one to their right. They emerged from between the hedges to find themselves on a green lawn, not far from a gazebo. "This is it," Trixie whispered, and began jogging across the grass. She waited impatiently for Jim to catch up. "Do you see anywhere it might be?"

"How would I know?" he demanded, almost forgetting to keep his voice low. "What chance is there of seeing any clue now, if this all happened in 1952?"

She rolled her eyes. "Look at the gazebo and the area around it," she directed. "Do you see anywhere that he might have hidden the body that it would still be undisturbed now?"

"Under the floor?" he suggested. "Buried in the garden, or under the lawn; under those rocks in the landscaping, if they were there then."

Trixie sank down onto the steps and stared at the ground. "There's too many possibilities. I wonder how we could narrow things down?" She sprang to her feet. "I know! If it's underneath, then there'd have to be some way that he got in to bury it there. We could look for any places where it's been repaired."

Looking doubtful at this plan, Jim followed Trixie's lead and started examining the panels which masked the lower part of the structure. True to his suspicion, repairs made in recent decades obscured any evidence that might have once been there. He was so intent on his search, however, that he did not hear the quiet approach of a pair of security guards.

"Oh!" cried Trixie, as one man caught her by the arm and another pressed Jim to the ground. "Let me go!"

"I don't think so," the man replied, with a nasty grin. "Not when I think I might have captured some vandals red-handed. You two will be coming down to the police station with us."

The interview room door opened and Trixie jumped to her feet. Two police officers entered, took a seat opposite her and invited her to sit, also. Bursting with curiosity, Trixie demanded, "Have you checked, yet? Did you find the body?"

The younger officer, a woman, smiled slightly. "Our investigation has not progressed that far, yet. We have, however, verified your story. Advice from the owners of the property is that they do not wish to press charges. You're free to leave."

"Oh, thank you!" Trixie cried, jumping up once again. She paused. "You are going to look for the body, aren't you?"

"Yes, ma'am," the older officer assured. "You can be sure that we'll investigate the matter thoroughly. We're happy to have the information. However, if you ever suspect such a thing again, I'd strongly advise you to call the police first, rather than trespassing on someone else's property."

"I'll try to remember that in future," Trixie mumbled, as the officer showed her out. She met her friends in the waiting room and they all talked at once, so that none could be understood. Jim stood alone at one side of the room, silent and thoughtful.

The next evening, the group were relaxing around the house when Mart called them all to the television. "Hey, everyone! Come and see this!" A hush fell as a reporter, standing outside a familiar set of imposing, wrought iron gates, explained that a body had been discovered in the grounds.

"You were right!" Honey gasped. "My great-great-uncle must have been a murderer!"

"It's a little soon for that," Brian chided. "We don't know that the body is that of the missing man, or whether anyone in any way connected with your family was involved with the death."

Honey, however, was unconvinced. "I hope Mr. Lynch is pleased with this result," she continued. "I'm sure that my family won't be, though. Imagine what Mother will say when she finds out that the information she gave me led to this!"

Jim shook his head and turned to Trixie. "I think you did a good job," he told her, with a tug on his favourite curl. "Even if it did mean another trip to the police station."

The End

Want to play again? Go back to Part 1.

End notes

2.44

"How do you intend to find these relatives?" Mart asked, with a dubious look on his face. "We know neither their names nor their whereabouts."

"I'll start by typing his name into a search engine," Trixie replied, suiting action to words. She scrolled through the results until she found a site that interested her. "I'll try this one - it looks promising."

When the page loaded, it turned out to be an account of the disappearance, written by a local historian. Trixie impatiently dragged the slider up and down, skimming the text here and there.

"Do you think, by any chance, you could start at the beginning?" Jim asked, with a chuckle.

Trixie sighed, but returned to the top of the page. A few minutes' reading yielded an answer, of sorts. "I guess that's it for that line of investigation," she mumbled. "There just plain aren't any relatives."

"But we know, now, that our guess was right," argued Honey, who had been reading over her shoulder. She began to summarise the account for those who were too far away to read the screen. "My great-great-uncle was a friend of Mr. Thoroughgood and it was considered to be a blow to the investigation that he was dead, especially since he didn't have any living relatives - Mr. Thoroughgood, I mean, not my great-great-uncle. The author of the account hints that my great-great-uncle might have been involved, but doesn't come right out and say it."

"So, the mystery was solved long ago," Trixie muttered, "but they couldn't do anything about it because he was already dead."

"My father will be happy, at least," Di consoled. "You've found the rest of the story for him."

Trixie smiled weakly, but was not much comforted. The disappointment of being beaten to the solution was more than mere words could soothe.

The End

Want to play again? Go back to Part 1.

End notes

2.45

At that moment, Di and Mart came racing up to them. "I just talked to a money-collector friend of my father's," Di began.

"A numismatist," Mart corrected.

"And he said-" Di continued, before stopping short. "Trixie! What's wrong?"

Her friend scuffed a toe against the floor. "I hate to tell you this, Di, but we think the bill might be a fake. We found some stuff on a man with the same name as the first owner on the list and he's a convicted counterfeiter. He even has his first conviction in the early sixties - right when he supposedly got the bill."

"What?" Di gasped.

"We're thinking of going and taking another look at the bill," Jim explained, gently. "Could you come with us and bring the key, please?"

Di nodded her assent and the four soon made their way back to the bank. After a short delay, they were shown into the area set aside for handling the boxes. With trembling hands, Di gently lifted out the bill and laid it on the table. Trixie produced a magnifying glass from somewhere about her person and began the examination.

"I can't see anything wrong with it," she muttered, gently turning it over. "It looks just like the pictures, if you ask me."

"It's not exactly the same," artistic Di disagreed. Before leaving for the bank, she had taken the time to study the images. "This line here is thicker." She stroked a finger across the place she meant and the air grew cold.

"Thief!" growled a spine-chilling voice. The room grew black, then a scene appeared.

"S-something tells me I was wrong," Trixie stammered, as she witnessed the violent history of the bill played out before her. She watched as the murderer sat comfortably and counted his ill-gotten gains. A phantom rose from the newly-dug grave and the murderer fell to the ground, clutching his chest.

Di let out a scream, then the world turned even darker as the air seemed to rush from the room. As consciousness faded for the last time, Trixie knew that she had been mistaken.

The End

Want to play again? Go back to Part 1.

End notes

2.46

At that moment, Di and Mart came racing up to them. "I just talked to a money-collector friend of my father's," Di began.

"A numismatist," Mart corrected.

"And he said-" Di continued, before stopping short. "Trixie! What's wrong?"

Her friend scuffed a toe against the floor. "I hate to tell you this, Di, but we think the bill might be a fake. We found some stuff on a man with the same name as the first owner on the list and he's a convicted counterfeiter. He even has his first conviction in the early sixties - right when he supposedly got the bill."

"What?" Di gasped.

"We're thinking of going and taking another look at the bill," Jim explained, gently. "We thought we'd go as soon as the others come back. Will you come too, and bring the key?"

Di nodded. "I know where Honey and Brian and Dan are. Should I go and get them?"

"That's a good idea," said Trixie. "You go and do that." For the next few minutes, she fidgeted and paced. Finally, the other four Bob-Whites arrived and they once again explained their plan.

Brian frowned. "I'm sure that Mr. Lynch would have had the bill checked by an expert before he purchased it. We're not even certain of what it should look like."

"I looked it up on the internet," Trixie protested. "It's right here."

"That's a series 1918," Brian read. "The bill that Mr. Lynch bought was considerably newer than this one and, as Mart so helpfully pointed out earlier, not even the same size."

"Yes, but that's the image that's available," Trixie moaned. "It must be the same, otherwise they'd have pictures of all the different ones."

"Still, I think it would be wiser to leave the matter to the experts," Brian insisted. "Besides, even if he was a counterfeiter, that doesn't mean the bill is a fake. He would need to see the genuine article in person in order to make a convincing fake."

"So, we should see if he was involved in any counterfeiting of $10,000 bills after handling that one," Trixie decided, turning back to the computer. In a few minutes, the rest of the group dispersed.

It ended as a frustrating afternoon of fruitless searching. The next morning, Di received a call on her cell phone, which caused the colour to drain from her face. Trixie watched in fascination as her friend sank mindlessly into a chair. She put down the phone and stared ahead of herself until Trixie could stand it no longer.

"Well?" she demanded.

"That was the police," said Di, in a strange, flat voice. "I guess the story is true! Yesterday afternoon, someone tried to steal the contents of my safe deposit box. The people in the next room heard a voice saying, 'Thief!' and when they eventually looked in on him, the bank robber was lying there, dead!"

"Maybe there is a ghost keeping the bill safe, then!" Despite the chill that ran down her spine, Trixie's eyes shone at the thought.

The End

Want to play again? Go back to Part 1.

End notes

2.47

"Here!" Di yelled to the ghost. "Have it! I don't want it, anyway!" She threw the bill at the apparition and it fluttered wildly, before disappearing under the nearby hall stand. He let out a roar and dove for it, disappearing through the old wood.

"Quick!" cried Trixie, throwing open the door and stumbling through. "While he's distracted, we can get away." She pulled Di through as, unseen by the girls, Brian opened the window to let the others out.

"Let me have it!" the strange man yelled. "Give it to me!"

Trixie risked a peek back through the doorway. She could see the ghost thrashing around, trying to pick up the ten thousand dollar bill. At each attempt, his fingers went straight through and his roars of frustration increased. Her brothers and Dan were nowhere to be seen.

"Come on, please, Trixie," Honey entreated. "Before he notices that we're gone."

Her friend waved the concern away. "He doesn't care about us; he's only interested in the money." A thoughtful look settled on her face. "I wonder what ghosts need money for, anyway?"

Brian, Mart and Dan arrived at the front of the house in time to hear her remark. "I guess he led a miserly life," Mart mused. "People who hoard money don't use it for anything; they just want to have it."

"Whatever he wants with it," Brian declared, "he's welcome to it, in my opinion. I vote we lock the house, with both him and his precious money inside, and go somewhere else to wait for Mr. Lynch's call. I'm pretty sure he's completely capable of defending his property from just about anything."

"I completely agree," Di called, from her position on the opposite side of the front yard. "Let's get as far away from here as we can get!"

A few hours later

"I'm very sorry you had to go through that, sweetheart," Mr. Lynch said to his daughter, after hearing the whole tale. "Of course, I knew about the legend when I bought the bill, but I didn't really believe it to be true. I thought it was just a story to give it that extra bit of value."

"Do you have any idea at all how it got in the envelope?" Trixie asked, barely containing her excitement. "Did the ghost put it there himself? Maybe he wanted to come here!"

Mr. Lynch let out a nervous chuckle. "I don't like to think so. The bottom line is that I put it there by my own hand. I didn't mean to, and can't understand how I could have been that careless, but that's the facts." He shook his head. "The man who sold it to me warned me never to touch it with my own hands, but always to use gloves. I'll admit, though, I couldn't resist feeling it just a little. Maybe that's what caused the trouble."

"You're not going to be keeping it in our house, are you?" Di asked, nervously. "I don't think I ever want to see it again!"

"No, kitten," her father replied. "I wouldn't put you through that. I'll find a museum that would like to display it on a semi-permanent loan. How will that be?"

"Just fine," she agreed, and let out a sigh of relief. "I'm just glad it's over."

The End

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End notes

2.48

"S-sir?" Di asked, taking a tentative step forward and holding out the bill. "Is this what you want?"

"Mine!" he roared, in a voice that shook the whole building. He swooped forward, disintegrating into a black cloud and surrounding Diana. The others only heard her frightened shriek, before she disappeared from sight. The cloud dispersed and Diana was gone.

"Where did he go?" yelled Trixie. "Hey! You can't take my friend! We gave you the money. Bring her back!"

At once, the remaining Bob-Whites began to search for the missing girl. Frantic voices called and footsteps sounded high and low, but without result. By the time they had been over the whole house twice and checked the grounds as well, the atmosphere had become charged with fear.

"I don't see where else we can look," said Brian, as they started to gather on the front porch. Inside, Dan and Mart were still searching. "I think it's time that we got some help."

Trixie sank down on the top step and let her head drop forward. One by one, her tears fell onto the board below. After a moment, Jim sat next to her and wrapped an arm across her shoulders.

"It'll be okay," he murmured into her curls.

"No, it won't," she contradicted. "I'm the one who told her to give it to him. It's my fault that she's gone and I can't think of any way to get her back."

Honey walked past them down the stairs. "I'm just going to the police station to report her missing." At the bottom of the stairs, she paused and turned back. "Do you think I should tell them about the ghost, or would that just make them think it's a prank?"

"I don't know what you should say," Brian admitted. "If you don't- Did you hear that?"

"It's Di's cell!" cried Honey. "But where is it coming from? It sounds so muffled."

"It's below us!" Trixie decided, putting her ear to the step on which she had been sitting. "No, it's a bit further over that way." With her head down low, she crawled across the porch and through the doorway, stopping at the place where they had last seen Di. "Here!" she cried, just as the ringing stopped.

"Come and help us!" Dan demanded at that moment, arriving on the scene at full speed. "The basement. We heard Di's phone. Mart's trying to break down a wall."

At once, Trixie scrambled to her feet and tore through the house to the cellar stairs. She took them two at a time, arriving at the bottom with a thump, and sought out her brother. As Dan had said, he was busy trying to rip down some boards with his bare hands. The single 40 watt bulb which hung near the base of the staircase did little to illuminate the scene.

"Di?" Mart called, oblivious to his audience. "Can you hear me? Why can't I get this open?"

"Let me find something to help," Trixie said, starting to scrabble around in the shadows. "There must be something here we can use."

A bright light shone on the pile of junk she was trying to search through and Trixie looked over her shoulder to find Jim with a flashlight. She smiled her thanks and returned to her search. A moment later, she stopped short.

"Jim, can I borrow that, please?" she asked. "I think, maybe, we should look for an easier way to do this."

Taking the flashlight from Jim's unresisting hand, she began to play the light around the walls. A tiny glint, well above her head, caught her eye. "Give me a boost?"

"How about if I lift you up to it?" he replied, catching her around the waist. "Can you get it?"

Even as he spoke, Trixie was pulling on the object, which turned out to be a rusty door-bolt. After a few moments, she managed to unfasten it and part of the wall shifted slightly. Her small fingers gripped the edge of a board and shook, but it held firm.

"There must be another one somewhere," she cried, struggling to get down. "Quick, everyone!"

Honey, who was now holding the flashlight, soon found it. "There! At the bottom!" she cried.

In a moment, the second bolt was undone and a rough door opened in the wall. Honey shone the light into the opening and let out a gasp. Di was lying in the cubbyhole, eyes open wide. Beside her, next to her outstretched hand, lay her cell phone.

"D-Di?" Honey asked, reaching out a tentative hand. "Are you okay?" Their fingers met, but still there was no response from Di. "She's so cold."

Brian stepped forward. "She has a steady pulse," he declared, with a sigh of relief. "I think we'd better get her some medical attention."

"Look," cried Trixie. "The money's still here." As she reached out to pick it up, Di let out a blood-curdling scream.

The End

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End notes

2.49

"How about if some of us distract him - that'll be you and me, Di - while someone else - that can be Jim - opens the window?" Trixie suggested, as the spectral figure floated closer. "Then, once everyone else is out, we'll slowly move around until we're next to the window, and they can pull us through."

"Fine," Di whispered. "Just do it, okay?"

As Trixie started to put her plan into action, their vision was blotted out by an inky black fog. In a few moments, they could see nothing. The room filled with confusion, as the startled Bob-Whites all talked at once and milled around, bumping into the furniture and each other. The confusion increased as they felt the sensation of falling, then the same voice they had heard before rose in an anguished wail.

"It's mine!" the ghost cried, as myriad thumps, scrapes and reverberant groans sounded in the darkness. "Let me have it!"

The room seemed to have shrunk to a tiny size, barely big enough to hold the seven and not tall enough for them to stand upright. They jostled each other as they each tried to find enough space in the narrow enclosure.

"Who's touching me?" cried Di, as icy fingers scraped across her arm.

"Probably me," Mart admitted, taking her hand in his.

Despite the complete darkness, she shook her head vigorously. "Someone with really cold hands. Ooh! Stop it, whoever you are!"

"The money!" Trixie yelled, causing Dan and Honey to shrink back in alarm and thus bump their heads together. "I bet he wants the money, Di. Throw it away and I bet he'll stop touching you."

"You mean it's the ghost touching me?" demanded Di, with a shriek. "He can have the stupid money; I don't want it!"

"Ugh! That landed on my head and now he's touching me!" Honey complained, pushing the bill away.

Brian was the next victim. "That is cold. How about if I lay it on the floor, rather than try to literally throw it?" He struggled to bend in the tight space available, but managed to place the bill on the rough, gritty floor, right next to the wall. There was a desperate scrabbling, then the ghost let out one final despondent wail. Silence fell.

"Is he gone?" Di asked, her low voice sounding loud in the stillness.

"I guess so. Where are we?" Trixie started tapping on a nearby wall, which gave off a hollow sound. "Can anyone find a door?"

For some time, the group searched in vain for a way out of their prison. Rough, wooden walls enclosed them on three sides and from above; the fourth side and floor felt like bare earth.

"I think we can safely say that there is no door," said Jim, calling a halt to the search. "If some of you move right down one end, we might be able to break down one of these walls."

Once again, confusion reigned as Honey and Di tried to manoeuvre themselves out of the way and the rest of the group debated their roles. Finally, it was decided that Dan and Jim would take the first turn. Brian was appointed as co-ordinator.

"Ready?" he asked, as the two men got into position. "One, two, three. Push!"

The wall groaned as two strong sets of shoulders collided with it. The procedure was repeated with a similar result. On the third attempt, a cracking sound was heard.

"Did you get through?" demanded Trixie, jostling to get nearer. "Did you break the wall?"

"No," Jim replied, searching the area with his fingers. "There's a split here that we might be able to take advantage of, but nothing bigger."

After two more attempts, Jim and Dan were too sore to attempt any more. They were replaced by Brian and Mart, with Jim taking Brian's earlier role. Their second push was rewarded with the sound of cracking wood.

"Are you through, this time?" Trixie asked. She wiggled forward to feel for herself.

"Not quite," Brian replied, shaking his head at her impatience. "There's definitely a crack here, but it's not large enough to get my fingers in."

"Let me try." Trixie unceremoniously pushed her brothers out of the way and attacked the board with gusto. In a few minutes, ignoring the pain of multiple splinters, her small fingers had worked the broken board loose and made a small hole. She made short work of two neighbouring boards, but could go no further.

"It's still not big enough to get out," she admitted, with a sigh. "You'd have to be pretty thin to get through there." A moment later, she almost snapped her fingers, remembering the splinters just in time. "Which you would be, if you were Honey Wheeler. Honey, can you get through this hole and go get help for the rest of us?"

"I'll try," Honey replied, slipping forward to make the attempt. With a little help from Brian and Mart, Honey slid through the opening and dropped onto the floor of the room beyond. A few minutes later, they heard her voice. "I've found some stairs leading upwards."

The other six waited breathlessly, as her footsteps sounded on the wooden treads. A door creaked open and reflected sunlight flooded the scene. The stairs led from the kitchen to the basement. They were stuck behind the walls which lined the basement. Honey turned on the light and the scene was further illuminated. She cried out in triumph and raced back down the stairs.

"Would this help?" she asked, passing a crowbar through the gap.

"Would it ever," Jim enthused, applying it to the wall. In a few short minutes, the hole was expanded and the rest of the group were free.

"That's a relief," Mart declared, wiping the sweat from his brow. "I was beginning to wonder if we were going to be stuck in there."

"What are we going to do about the money?" asked Trixie, her fingers itching to reach through and pick it up.

The rest of the group shared an uneasy look. Finally, Brian spoke. "No offence, Di, but I think, if your father still wants it, he can come and retrieve it himself."

"No arguments from me!" she agreed, turning her back on the bill and heading up into the sunlight. "I don't think I ever want to see it again!"

The End

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End notes

2.50

"Just ask him if we can leave," Trixie hissed, as the figure moved still closer.

"S-sir?" Di stammered. "If you don't mind, I think I'd like to go, now, so if you could just let us know what the trouble is, we could maybe fix it for you and leave? Please?"

Enraged, the spectre increased to a monstrous size, his form blotting most of the light from the room. "Thief!" his voice declared while his body thrashed around, sending chills through the watching Bob-Whites. A cold wind whipped their hair and clothes, while small items were blown from their places.

"Uh, I think there's some kind of mistake here." Di turned one way then another, looking for some kind of inspiration. "I haven't taken anything that's not mine. I'm not a thief."

"Give me what's mine!" the reverberant voice demanded. With a suddenness that startled the group, he reverted to his original size and shape. At the same time, the wind disappeared completely. Di shivered as the ghosts' malicious gaze settled on her and he slowly floated forward, one arm outstretched.

"I haven't got anything of yours!" she cried, backing away. "If you don't tell me what it is that you want, I can't give it to you."

With a wave of one hand, the ghostly figure conjured up a scene. The Bob-Whites watched in fascination as a figure, very like that which had been terrorising them, walked through an imposing set of wrought iron gates towards a majestic house. He was admitted by a butler and entered a well-appointed room. A dignified man greeted him. Before long, it was clear that the two were having a disagreement. The other man made placatory motions as he moved to a nearby desk. In a flash, he withdrew a gun from the desk drawer and shot the first man.

Seven pairs of eyes stared in horror as the shooter rifled through the dead man's pockets and withdrew some items. As he calmly sat at the desk, the butler returned and helped to drag the body away.

"Mine!" repeated the bone-rattling voice.

"B-b-but I still don't know what you want!" sobbed Di. "I couldn't see what he took and I don't know who he was, so I have no idea where whatever it was might have gone."

The spectre's anger increased before their eyes. His arms thrashed in frustration and he loomed before them. The wind picked up again, stinging their faces with the dust it had picked up.

"I'm sorry for what happened to you, but we haven't got whatever was stolen from you. Will you let us go, now?" Di asked, in a small voice, which was almost swallowed by the rushing air.

The ghost's reply echoed through the room, though his face remained still and threatening: "Will you return my property?"

"What should I say?" hissed Di. Her desperate gaze travelled from Trixie to Jim's face and back. "Please, Trixie, Jim, tell me what to say!"

"No," suggested Jim. "Tell him we haven't got it."

"Yes," Trixie decided at almost the same moment. "Tell him we'll give it to him."

"Which one?" Di whispered, faintly.

What do you want to do?

Should Di answer 'no'? Go to part 2.59.

Should Di answer 'yes'? Go to part 2.60.

2.51

"Uh, yeah, I guess that's okay," Trixie stuttered, dropping her gaze. She felt Jim's stance change beside her and knew that she would have some explaining to do later. "That sounds fine, Honey. We'll do that."

Honey smiled warmly, oblivious to the undercurrents which were running around her brother and best friend. "Great. I'll go inside and tell Di that it's okay."

"What did you say that for?" Jim hissed, as soon as she was out of earshot. "Didn't we just plan something completely different?"

"I know, and I'm sorry," Trixie replied, giving him a pleading look. "She looked so hopeful that we would approve, and I couldn't think of any good reason why it wasn't a good idea, and it won't hurt that much to wait a week, will it?"

At that, he smiled. "I guess you're right. We can wait a week." His eyes twinkled as he continued, "But beyond that, I don't think you can hold me responsible for my actions."

Their tête-à-tête was interrupted at that moment by Mart, who announced that the festivities were about to begin. "Accumulate your widely-distributed paraphernalia, one and all. A post meridian of feasting awaits."

"Didn't we just eat?" Trixie asked him, her voice laced with acid. "And what is this feasting in aid of?"

Mart shrugged. "In many cultures, a feast is prepared for a wake." He draped a careless arm across her shoulder and began his lecture. "In this case, it is to celebrate the many happy years of Bob-Whitedom, and mourn the near-passing of our close proximity. Considering the many feasts we have shared over the years, I feel it is only fitting that we-"

"Fit in as many feasts as possible?" interrupted his sister.

"Exactly!" he laughed, turning the lecture pose into a hug. "Strange as it may seem, I'm going to miss you."

"We'll all miss you both," Honey added, joining the circle. "I can't believe that you're actually going so far away. We'll have to plan a Bob-White trip to visit you."

"With a feast of local cuisine, with which I will have become familiar," Mart added, laughing.

Trixie gave him a slap. "Does everything with you have to revolve around food?"

By now, the whole group had gathered around. "It always seems that way, doesn't it?" Brian observed. "It's a deal, Mart. You can explore the food of the area to your heart's content, but we expect expert commentary when we arrive."

"Something different every day we're there," added Honey.

"And you'll have to cook for us, too," Trixie decided. "We expect something spectacular that night!"

From there the conversation turned to a list of all the sights they would like to see, escalating until it seemed they would be touring the entire state for a month. Voices became raised as the excitement of the potential trip grew.

In the middle of everything, Di's cell phone began to ring. She tried to quieten the others down so that she could answer, with indifferent success. All at once, they fell silent when they heard her say, "Dad! Where are you? I was worried." At Brian's signal, they left her to conduct her conversation alone. A few minutes later, she rejoined them in the living room. From her expression, they could tell that something was wrong.

"What is it?" Mart asked, in little more than a whisper.

"I'm so sorry, everyone," she replied, in a small voice. "I don't know how to tell you this, but I was wrong: we're not moving to California."

"What do you mean?" asked several people at once.

"I mean, I told my Dad about the letter and he says that it was something else altogether. The family's not moving; I'm not moving."

"You're not moving?" asked Mart. He seemed to turn the matter over in his mind. "You're not moving." His face broke into a smile and he threw his arms around Di. "You're not moving."

"Yes, I think we've established that," she replied, returning the hug. "I think I can also assume that you're happy about it."

"Happy? I'm ecstatic! I call for a whole week of celebration and feasting, in honour of the occasion. All in favour?" There was a chorus of 'ayes'.

Trixie laughed. "Trust you to suggest feasting, but, yes, I'm in favour. The ayes have it."

The End

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End notes

2.52

"Uh, let me think about it, Hon," Trixie hedged. "I did have another idea, but I'm not ready to share it just yet." Her best friend looked disappointed, but nodded and went back inside.

"I hate to hurt her feelings," Jim said with a frown. "Maybe we could rush back right afterwards and only miss a little."

His new fiancée giggled. "I thought for a moment that you were having second thoughts already."

"Who, me? Of course not!" He laughed and started to lead her inside. "Let's go get packed. We want to be ready to leave as early as possible."

Several hours later…

"Has anyone seen Trixie lately?" Honey asked the group assembled in the living room. "I thought she was upstairs, but I can't find her."

Brian frowned. "Now that you mention it, I haven't seen Jim lately, either."

Curiosity got the better of them and all of the remaining Bob-Whites began to search. After a few minutes, Mart called, "Jim's car is gone." Another few minutes passed before Honey yelled, "I found a note!" She bounded down the stairs, meeting the others as they arrived from all directions.

"It says, 'Dear Honey, Brian, Mart, Di and Dan,' - it's in Jim's handwriting, by the way - 'We assume that by the time you find this, we will be a long way away. Please don't worry about us. We will be back as soon as we can. - Jim and Trixie. P.S. Brian, please be assured of my honorable intentions toward your sister. - Jim.'" She let Brian take the page from her hand. "So, what do you think it means?"

"It's obvious what it means," Brian declared. "They've run away together. Honorable intentions my ass!"

Di looked thoughtful. "If there's one word that sums up Jim, it's honorable. His character, I mean. If you wanted to sum up other things about him, there are other words-"

"Which I, for one, don't want to hear," Mart quipped.

"Anyway," Di continued, "since Jim is so honorable all over the place, and he went to the trouble of pointing that out in his note, I think they've-"

"Run away to get married?" Honey guessed. She and Di let out happy sighs. "Isn't it romantic?"

"Romantic?" Mart demanded. "It's lunatic! If that's what really happened, Jim needs his head examined. I always thought he was too sensible for this kind of thing. It just goes to show how wrong you can be about people."

"So, what are we going to do about it?" asked Brian. He began to pace back and forth. "They don't say in the note where they're going, so how can we stop this?"

"Do you really want to stop it?" Dan asked, staring at his friend in amazement. "They're both old enough to make their own decisions - and live with the consequences."

Brian returned the incredulous look. "Of course I have to stop it. What sort of brother would I be, if I didn't try to save my sister from this kind of disaster? If I just let her elope with Jim-" He stopped short. "What am I saying? If I let her elope with Jim, she'll be his problem and I won't have to worry about her any more. Forget I said anything. You're right, Dan: Jim is certainly old enough to deal with the consequences of his actions."

Epilogue:

The house seemed quiet when Jim's car pulled into the drive. The other two cars were parked, and the front door stood open, so it seemed likely that the rest of the group were somewhere nearby.

"Shall we?" Jim asked, seeing that his new wife was looking nervous.

She gave a quick nod and stepped out of the car. Almost as soon as their steps sounded on the front stairs, Honey appeared with a jubilant look on her face. "They're here!" she called over her shoulder, even as she raced towards them. "Oh, I'm so glad you're back." She kissed both her brother and her best friend on the cheeks, then hugged each in turn.

Diana appeared next. Without a word, she took Trixie's left hand and inspected the plain gold band and the sapphire and diamond engagement ring she found there. "Very nice," she commented, before offering her congratulations to them both.

Behind her, Dan nodded a greeting. The Belden brothers arrived together, both looking wary. Brian stepped forward. "Jim: a word, please?"

"Why don't you go inside," he suggested to Trixie. "You girls have a lot to talk about, I think." Honey and Di seized the opportunity with both hands, leading their friend away before she had a chance to object. Unnoticed, Dan slipped away, too.

For almost a minute, Brian stared silently at Jim, who simply waited for him to make the first move. Seeing that he would not be flustered into unwary speech, he finally said, "I hope you don't think I approve of what you've done."

Jim gave a careless shrug. "I never expected that you would."

Mart stepped forward to add his two cents' worth. "Do you have any idea how much trouble this is going to cause? We had to call Moms and Dad, of course, and you'll have to face them before long, too."

"Just remember one thing," Brian concluded. "She's all yours. All the trouble, all the mischief; all yours."

"And that's just how I wanted it," Jim replied.

The End

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End notes

2.53

"Come to the house and get you?" he asked, utterly incredulous. He pulled out a scrap of paper and a pen and started scribbling. "What are you thinking, Trixie? We'd never get away with that. I'll meet you at this address, at - what time? Eight o'clock?"

"Eight's fine," she whispered, taking the note, as Mr. Wheeler opened the front passenger side door. Not daring to say anything more, she simply smiled.

At the appointed place and time…

Trixie shuffled her feet nervously as she waited for Regan to arrive. The ensuing hours since they had set up the date had been excruciating. For one thing, the others had laughed at her mercilessly for getting lost and having to be rescued. To add to that discomfort, she had no idea of how she would leave the house without telling where she was going and who she was meeting. Somehow, it seemed wiser to see how this first date went before telling everyone what was going on. Eventually, she had confided in Di and secured the use of her car. The rest of the group were under the impression that she was upstairs, sleeping off a headache.

She glanced at her watch, seeing that there were still a few minutes before eight. The décor in the little café that Regan had chosen as a meeting point was cosy, but not what she would have imagined to be his preference. Still, she thought, I feel safe here, which is probably what he was aiming for. She looked back at her watch, to see that less than a minute had passed.

"Impatient?" asked a familiar voice, laced with amusement. "If there's a future for us, I'll have to see if I can do something about that."

Trixie looked up at him, finding herself lost for words. There was something indefinably different about him. Perhaps he had put off his work persona, becoming more himself; wilder and more free. He sat down next to her and the feeling subsided - he was once again familiar and safe.

"I guess we should get drinks," she said, suddenly feeling shy. "Maybe, if you tell me what you want-"

"I'll take care of it," he replied, and found out what she would like.

A few minutes later, toying idly with the straw in her iced coffee, Trixie began to wonder how she had ever gotten into this situation. Guys had always seemed to pass her by in the past. Honey and Di never had any trouble in attracting male attention, while she seemed to just be one of the boys. The way that Regan was looking at her now filled her with a kind of awe.

A blob of cream had stuck to the side of the straw. Unthinking, Trixie licked it off, noting with pleasure the subtle change in the stance of the man sitting beside her. She leaned back in her seat, glad of the nearby potted plant, whose bushy foliage shielded her from being viewed by many of the other patrons.

"I'm enjoying this," she said, simply.

Her companion dropped his gaze. "I can see that." He drew in a ragged breath. "You're teasing me, aren't you?"

"I am?" Her eyes opened wide. Does he mean I'm making fun of him, or is he talking about the other kind of teasing? She scanned his face, looking for the answer to her question, but could not find it. "What do you mean?"

He looked deep into her eyes, searching for his own clue to her thoughts. Finally, he muttered, "I should remember who I'm talking to. You're always so straight-forward, aren't you?"

"Yeah, I guess I am," she replied, with a smile. Should I prove it? It's worth a shot. "So, why don't you kiss me?"

His eyebrows shot up, and he jerked backwards, before a slow chuckle built up. "I don't know what I'm getting myself into, here." He leaned forward to do her bidding and their lips met for the second time. Within moments, it became clear that this kiss was of a different order to the first. Somewhere, on the other side of the large pot-plant, was a sharp intake of breath. Trixie categorised it as irrelevant and continued to focus all her attention on the matter at hand.

"Trixie!" It could not be Regan's voice, because his lips were still against hers. Besides, that was a female voice and, therefore, not important. "Regan!" He was trying to pull back, which, quite clearly, was not right. Whoever was interrupting could kindly mind their own business! Regan, apparently, had other ideas. Trixie opened her eyes to see the surprise and embarrassment on his face. She took a glance in the direction of the plant and saw her best friend, a look of sheer horror on her face.

"Trixie!" Honey repeated. "What are you doing?"

"I was kissing Regan," she replied, frowning with impatience. "I was enjoying it, too, so if you'd like to go back to the house, I could get back to it." A moment later, another thought occurred to her. "What are you doing here, anyway?"

A sheepish look settled on her friend's face. "I kind of followed you here - seeing as you said you had a headache, but it looked like you were on the trail of a mystery, only you didn't say anything to me about it, so I thought you were investigating something yourself, only I had no idea that you wanted to investigate Regan, if that's what you call what I just saw, which I really had no desire to see, and I really don't want to see again, if you don't mind, because even if he is hot, he's still Dan's uncle and it's not right to kiss your friend's uncle." She dropped her gaze. "I'm sorry, really. I have no business telling you who you can or can't kiss."

"I shouldn't have done that," Regan replied, moving away. "Especially not somewhere public like this. I'll be going."

Trixie leapt after him. "Not so fast. I'm not finished with you."

His eyes held amusement, as he looked down at the feisty blonde who held his arm. If he had wanted to, he could easily have shaken her off. "Patience," he suggested, with a smile, recalling their earlier meeting. "I can see that we'll have to work on that."

"Sounds like an exercise in futility," Honey murmured, looking glum. Her plans for the summer seemed to be disappearing by the second.

Bill Regan smiled, taking in the sight of Trixie's wild curls and determined look. "I'm always up for a challenge."

The End

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End notes

2.54

"How can I collect you from the house?" he asked, shaking his head. "If any of the others see me…"

Trixie smiled. "I have my methods." Glancing through the windscreen, she saw Mr. Wheeler approaching. "Go around the right-hand side of the house. You'll find a bench, under one of the trees. I'll meet you there at nine o'clock."

"Why do I have the feeling I'm going to regret this?" he muttered, just as his boss reached the vehicle. Trixie only smiled.

Nine o'clock, at the back door of Pendeville House…

Trixie took a quick look over her shoulder, before stepping out into the cool of the evening. Crickets were chirping cheerfully and a gentle breeze stirred the trees as she ran lightly down the path to the appointed meeting place. Her face broke into a smile as she saw that Regan had already arrived.

"See? Nothing to it!" she whispered, dropping down next to him on the bench. "Nobody noticed a thing."

"So far," he admitted. He smoothed back one of her errant curls, before leaning forward to kiss her, slowly and thoroughly. He drew back with regret. "We should be going."

Trixie shook her head. "You don't need to take me anywhere. I like it here just fine." To prove her point, she settled herself more comfortably against him and returned the kiss, with interest.

From the direction of the back door, came the sound of voices. "I'm sure she must be out here," Honey was saying. "I saw her go in only a minute ago, but she didn't come back, so she must have gone out, only that seems strange, so I thought I'd better come look for her."

"Damn!" whispered Regan. "The last thing we need is to get caught back here. You need to go talk to her."

"I don't want to," she replied, just as they heard Brian say, "You're probably right, Honey. You never know what Trixie might be up to if she disappears suddenly." He sounded so close that it made the pair on the garden seat jump.

"I'll go," Regan whispered, ducking into the deep shadows of the shrubbery. Almost immediately, he collided with Brian.

"Aargh! An intruder!" the other man yelled, grabbing the unresisting Regan's arm and trying to restrain him. "Quick, Honey! Get help!"

Bob-White! Bob-White! Honey whistled. There was a clatter of feet and a banging of doors. Voices called a confusion of questions and soon they were surrounded by Bob-Whites.

"Here's Trixie," Di called, her voice carrying over the others. "What's happening, Trix? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she replied. "Go back inside, everyone. There's no intruder."

"But I've got the intruder," Brian pointed out. "I can't just let him go."

"There is no intruder and that's exactly what I want you to do," his sister insisted. "Now, would you all go back inside?"

Di was the first to catch on to the situation. "Come on, Brian. Let him go and come back inside." She gently tried to disengage his hold on Regan.

"Just wait a minute," he said, pulling his captive away from Di's reach. "If he's not an intruder, who is he?" He stepped into the pool of light from the nearest window and let out a gasp. "Regan? What are you doing here?"

"We were talking," Trixie interrupted. "Now, go back inside please, Brian. I'd like to finish the conversation."

"Why don't you both come inside?" Honey asked. "You could talk just as easily in there, and I think we'd all like to talk to Regan."

"That sounds like the right idea, Honey," said Mart, in a menacing tone which puzzled his gentle friend. "Though, I don't think Trixie needs to be there."

While Brian added his agreement, the others began to talk amongst themselves. To one side, Jim and Dan started laying plans, while Di whispered an explanation to Honey, who still had not caught on. Every so often, Honey's shocked exclamations sounded out over the rest of the noise.

Finally, Trixie could take no more. "Enough!" she yelled, shocking the others into a momentary silence. "I get the idea. Now, either you can all go away, or I'll go away."

"No!" cried Honey, apparently still not up to speed. "Please don't run away with Regan, Trixie! I'd miss you so much and we only just got here and it was going to be so much fun and now-"

"Honey! Stop!" Trixie interrupted, her face turning a bright red. "I didn't mean that! I just meant…" She let out a frustrated breath. "I just want some time with Regan. Alone. Without any of you there. Okay?"

"That sounds fine," Di replied, before anyone else could speak. "Let's go, everyone." She grabbed Mart by the arm and practically dragged him away, while motioning to Honey to help.

"Oh!" Honey cried, suddenly getting the idea. She took Brian's arm and ushered Jim and Dan ahead of her. "Yes, you're right, Di. Let's go."

Mart resisted slightly, whining, "But, Di…"

"Did I mention that I'm thinking of moving to California, after all?" she asked, sweetly.

In a minute or two, the back door closed behind Honey. Trixie sank down onto the bench and let her head fall back. "I think that might have been the most embarrassing moment of my life. No offence, Regan, but I really don't want to run away with you!"

"So, is it worth all this?" he asked, almost to himself. He sat on the other end of the bench, leaving a space between them.

She looked up in surprise. "Well, you know that I tend to be just a little bit curious, don't you?" Rather than dignify the question with a proper answer, he let out a chuckle. "So, now I'm curious about you. Is that okay?"

"Heaven help me," he muttered, "but it is." Closing the gap between them, he sealed the agreement with a kiss.

The End

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End notes

2.55

Mart looked at the group of girls and his whole demeanour changed. "Great idea! Let's try that." He watched carefully until they were between him and the other men, then casually sauntered out from behind the tree, with Dan by his side.

The plan was working perfectly until they came level with Di's car, and were just about to turn towards it. Mart's ankle turned and he crashed into the young woman next to him, nearly knocking her over.

"I-I'm sorry," he stuttered, barely remembering in time to effect a high voice.

"Hey! What do you think you're doing?" she demanded, seeing immediately that he was, in fact, male. She turned to the girl next to her and loudly announced, "He tried to feel me up!"

"No, I didn't! I said I was sorry! I really didn't mean it! It was just an accident!" Mart backed away from the girls, while trying to keep his face out of Tom and Regan's view.

"Come on!" hissed Dan, dragging him towards the car.

"Where do you think you're going?" the second girl demanded, advancing angrily. Dan threw the car door open and pushed his friend inside. "You can't just leave!"

"Yes, we can," said Dan through gritted teeth, as he dived inside. "Go, Di!"

She was already reversing by the time he said the words. Outside, a crowd was starting to gather. Honey was horrified to see among them her father and his two employees. For the time being, their attention was focussed on the girls, and not on the retreating vehicle. "Quick, Di! Get us away from here!"

Miraculously, a break in the traffic allowed them to escape, while holding up any potential pursuers, but it was many miles before any of them felt comfortable again. Mart and Dan shed as much of their disguises as decency allowed. The further away they got, the funnier the girls found the whole episode. By they time they got back, they could barely contain themselves.

"That, I think, was the worst experience of my life," announced Mart, as they arrived at Pendeville House. "If any of you ever breathes a word to anyone, even Brian and Jim, I'll personally dispatch you to the other side of the continent!"

"In that case," said Di, "what have I got to lose?" And with a grin she ran inside to tell all.

The End

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End notes

2.56

Mart gazed hopefully at the approaching group, but then shook his head. "It's too perfectly fortuitous, therefore it wouldn't work. We'd better stay here and wait."

Dan nodded and leaned against the tree. He heard firm footsteps approaching and cursed softly. Mr. Wheeler passed close by them and walked towards Di's car, peering in through the window.

"Diana?" they heard him say. "Is that you?"

"Oh, hello Mr. Wheeler," she replied. "Fancy seeing you here."

Dan whispered another curse, this one rather stronger than the last. "What are we going to do now?"

"Oh, no, Daddy," they heard Honey say. "We're not lost. We're just taking a bit of a detour. In fact, we'd better be going. I guess the boys will worry if we don't arrive soon."

A moment later, they had said their goodbyes and the little purple car had driven away. Dan peered around the tree to find out what the other men were doing, but they did not seem in any hurry to leave. "Now what?" he wondered aloud. "Are the girls coming back, or have they just abandoned us here?"

Mart peered down towards the end of the street. "Is that Di beckoning us?" He frowned. "There's no way I'm walking all that way in these shoes. They make my feet feel like someone's been rubbing them with sandpaper!"

"So take them off," Dan suggested, dropping his on the ground. "If the girls are so attached to them, they can come back and get them."

Sighing with relief, Mart followed suit. With one last glance at the other men to make sure they were looking away, they set off down the street. As the distance between them stretched out, the two started to relax. To Mart's relief, his feet began to feel better. "I'll never tease Di again for having to sit down when she's wearing heels."

"What about Trixie?" asked Dan, as they finally turned the corner to safety.

Mart laughed. "Stop teasing Trixie? What would be the point of that?"

The End

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End notes

2.57

"I am sorry, Brian," said Luis. "You will not go alone, for I have another half-brother and he is Dan."

"What?" cried Dan, along with Mart, Trixie and Honey.

"It is true," said Luis.

"No, it isn't," denied Dan. "I remember my parents and neither of them where Mexican."

"It is sad, but true," the other man insisted. "My mother had so many children, that she could not afford to keep them all. Your mother could not have any, so a deal was made. It has taken me many months to locate you. Please, you must come and see her also."

Brian looked thoughtful. "That explains a lot. I'm sure that Luis is right. Will you come with me, Dan?"

"But what about me?" Honey asked, unheeded. "I wanted to come, too."

Dan stood aside, silent and thoughtful. "I'll go if you come with me, Honey," he decided. "Come away with me and we can leave our troubles here behind."

"Oh, Dan! This is so sudden," she cried. "Yes, I'll come with you. It's what I've always wanted."

The End…
(Or, should that be 'How many other half-siblings does Brian Belden have? Tune in next week to find out'?)

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End notes

2.58

"Fine, Honey, you can come with me," Brian decided, after considering her pleading look.

"That is good," said Luis, "for there is more that I must do here. My mother also had a daughter, whom she gave up for adoption to rich parents. My mother would like to see her, also."

Brian's face filled with horror and he pulled Luis aside. "Honey is my half-sister? Are you sure?"

"I am certain. It has taken me many months to ascertain."

"But I've kissed her," said Brian.

"She is very pretty," Luis noted.

"She's your half-sister, too."

"That is okay," Luis agreed. "I am not going to kiss her."

Brian wiped a hand over his face. "This can't be happening! Of all the people in the world who could be my half-sister, why does it have to be her?"

"Oh, there are many others," said Luis, happily ignorant of the other man's despair. "Many other half-sisters, and many of them in the United States. Perhaps you have met some of them also. If not, you will meet them in Meh-hee-co, when you see our mother. I am sending all of them there to see her, before she dies."

Shaking his head in disbelief, Brian headed upstairs to pack for his journey. "We'll all be like brothers and sisters together," he muttered, remembering Honey's long-ago words. "Just great."

The End

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End notes

2.59

"N-n-no," Di stammered. "I'm sorry, but I haven't got your property."

The room filled with inky black fog, blotting out all light. Di screamed as icy fingers fastened on her arm. The ghost's voice rose into a roar of fury. The wind whistled and the pain in her arm increased until she thought she would faint.

"The money!" Trixie screamed, above the noise of the wind. "He wants the money! Give it to him!"

Her deduction came too late. In his anger, the phantom plunged them all into his world of darkness, never to be seen again.

The End

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End notes

2.60

"Yes?" Di hazarded to the ghost. "Just tell me what it is, and I'll give it to you."

"It's the money!" Trixie told her, giving her a little prod. "Give him the money."

"G-give him the money? I don't want to give him the money. How about if I just put it down somewhere?" She pulled out the bill and clumsily dropped it in her haste. "Oh! Now what do I do?"

The spectral figure swooped down on the bill, which lay at Di's feet. She squealed and jumped backwards. The wind picked up, throwing lighter objects around the room, but the bill lay still, as if in the eye of the storm. A disembodied voice let out a mournful wail, then the room became quiet and calm.

"W-what now?" Di stammered, clinging tightly to Mart's arm. "Where did he go?"

"I don't think he's strong enough to appear to us if no one's holding his money," Trixie mused. "As soon as you dropped it, he got kind of quivery. I think we'd better leave it there until we hear from your dad."

"One thing I know," Di asserted, "is that I'm never touching that thing again!"

The End

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