The Mystery of the Missing Heiress (18 page)

Absentmindedly he kicked the dirt with his heel, to cover up the hole, and uncovered a tobacco can. He picked it up and tossed it over to the workman. “Here’s your tobacco,” he called. “One of you must have dropped it. Whats the matter, Trixie?”

“Nothing... I guess. Thats horrible smelhng tobacco, isn’t it? Some of it spilled here.”

“It wouldn’t be my choice, but that’s why they make all kinds. Well, kids, it doesn’t look as though there’s anything I can do around here. I’m sorry, Trixie. Even if we’d come to this place earlier, we wouldn’t have found clues on all the bushes. A smart cookie covers his tracks pretty well.”

“We didn’t really expect to find anything incriminating, did we, Trixie?” Honey asked sadly.

Trixie didn’t answer. Her mind seemed miles away.

“How about you kids stopping at Mrs. Vander-poel’s house with me for a while. Do you have time to do that—then run me back into Sleepyside?” Spider asked.

“I suppose we should be exercising the horses for Regan,” Jim said, “but the day’s already pretty well shot.”

“And Mrs. Vanderpoel always has cookies,” Mart said, smacking his lips.

“She’s the best cook in Westchester County,” Spider said, “and that takes in a lot of good Dutch cooks. Many a time I’ve wished Tad and I were back at her house and pulling up to that kitchen table.”

It wasn’t long till Spider’s wish was fulfilled.

When they dropped the knocker at the little, yellow brick house, Mrs. Vanderpoel opened the door, cried out with delight, and put her arms around Spider.

“You’re my wish come true, Spider!” she said. “Do you know what I have in the oven?”

“Cookies!” Mart said.

“Oh, those! I always have those. No, sir, it’s Spider’s favorite food. Mr. Maypenny brought me three pheasants today, all dressed so nice and pretty. I cut them up, browned them, covered them with sour cream, and popped them in the oven. I was going to freeze them, because they wouldn’t keep till Juliana and I finished eating them. Come right in, all of you. Do you smell them cooking?”

“Mmmm! Mmmmm. I’m back where I belong,” Spider said, drawing in his breath. “Does that ever smell good to me!”

“There’s enough for everyone,” Mrs. Vanderpoel said hospitably. “Stay for dinner, all of you. I was afraid there would be nobody but me. Juliana’s not here for dinner; she’s working on those dolls,” she added, looking at the girls.

“I should be at home helping Moms,” Trixie said. “And I should be at home with you, helping you help your mom,” Honey said. “Oh, Trixie, that divine smell!”

“If I call Moms and she says yes, and if you’ll let us help get dinner, and if you really want us—”

“Trixie means yes, we’d love to stay, and when

do we eat?” Mart said. “I’ll call Moms.” Soon he reported, “She said yes.”

“I’ll call Miss Trask and tell her where I am and not to look for me. If she knows we’re with you, Spider, she’ll want to visit with you, too,” Jim said.

“Later on.Later on. Soon we eat, though,” Mrs. Vanderpoel said. “Set the table, please, girls. Here’s the cloth.”

“One, two, three, four, five, six, seven of us,” Trixie counted. “Jeepersl Nobody else in the world could have six extra people walk in on them and provide a banquet.”

“In the old country, yes,” Mrs. Vanderpoel said. “My mother told me that many a time on Sunday, after church, someone would say, ‘Come to dinner,’ and they’d come, and welcome, too. My mother was a good cook. Her mother was, too.”

“They’d have to have been, to have taught you,” Spider said. “I’m telling you the truth. I wake up in the night, and I can'taste chicken and dumplings and apple pie and Gouda cheese—thin slices of it on toast in the morning instead of butter— mmmml I’ll bet when Tad writes to you, Mrs. Vanderpoel, he always mentions food.”

“He does. I do miss both my boys, Spider. Even Old Brom looks around the comers hunting for you whenever he comes into the house. As soon as I whip up these potatoes, we’ll be ready to eat. There’s new late corn from my garden in that pot on the back of the stove. My, but it seems good to have all of you herel”

“I wish Janie could be with us, too. She’s so thin, but she’s never hungry.” Trixie sighed.

“There’ll be plenty of pheasant for you to take home to her, Trixie, and some for Bobby, too, the little darling. There, now, you can fill the mugs with milk, Honey. Spider, you can'take this platter to the table. Put it right in the middle, and you can all help yourselves. See what a big pan of pheasant I have?”

They all ate till they could hardly push back from tibe table. Mrs. Vanderpoel wouldn’t let the girls help with the dishes. “It’ll keep me busy after you’ve all gone,” she said. “The evenings are too long. I’ll just fix up a bit for you to take to Janie and Bobby, and I’ll put the rest away... maybe leave a little in the warming oven for Juliana, if she comes.”

She scurried about the kitchen, and in no time at all the big table was cleared and the dishes scraped and piled for washing later.

A delicious bouquet of odors filled the big old-fashioned kitchen—an aroma that never left it— made up of scrubbed cleanliness, lingering spices, tangy pickles, ripe apples, crumbling aged cheese. Over all, and enhancing all, was the spirit of wholehearted hospitality and love.

Afterward, in the cozy parlor, Mart picked out lively rock music on Mrs. Vanderpoel’s beautiful little melodion. They clapped and hummed and shuffled their feet.

“Dance, if you want to,” Mrs. Vanderpoel urged. “Nothing can harm an Axminster carpet. Nothing has for forty years.”

So Spider swung the rotund little Dutch woman to her feet and whirled her around the room, while the others snapped their fingers or shrugged and twisted to Mart s one-fingered beat.

In the midst of it all, in walked Juliana.

She nodded to the Bob-Whites. Then she saw Spider. His blue suit and brass buttons seemed to paralyze her. “A policeman!” she gasped.

“A friendly one,” Spider said, bowing low.

“It’s Spider. I’ve told you about him,” Mrs. Vanderpoel said. “It’s Juliana, Spider, Jim’s cousin. I’ve kept something warm for you, dear. The Bob-Whites and Spider all stayed for dinner. I wish you had been here. Were you working on your dolls again?”

Juliana hesitated, then nodded her head.

“You make me ashamed, Juliana,” Trixie said. “We haven’t done a thing about booths for the Turf Show. We love the dolls you’re making. They’re darling.”

“Thank you,” Juliana said nervously. “If you will excuse me, I’ll go to my room. I’m glad to have met Mrs. Vanderpoels Spider. I’m glad to have seen the rest of you, too. I hope Janie is feeling better. I’ll say good night now.”

She spoke it as if it were a piece she had learned,
Trixie thought.
She’s terribly nervous. She had such a queer smile...or
...
there goes my imagination again!

Aloud she said, “I think we have to say good night, too, Mrs. Vanderpoel.” She hugged the roly-poly woman with both arms. Honey did, too. Even the boys, Mart shamefacedly at first, then wholeheartedly, hugged her.

“It’s no good saying thanks. That word couldn’t cover the wonderful time we’ve had,” Trixie said from the doorway.

“Don’t say it. Come again. That’s the thanks I like best. Good night, now, all of you.”

At Crabapple Farm, where Jim let the Beldens and Honey out of the station wagon, they said good night to Spider.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t help you with your sleuthing, Trixie,” he said, and she knew he really meant it from his heart. Then he added, chuckling, “I just happened to remember—I saw a couple of your good friends in Sleepyside today. Snipe Thompson and his nephew Bull. I guess their time is up in the pen. They probably won’t try to rob another antique show, Trixie, but they’re bad citizens—mighty bad citizens. Good night.”

A Shadow at the Window ● 16

SEE WHAT I brought you, Janie! Moms, where’s Bobby? Has he gone to bed? Mrs. Vanderpoel sent him some pheasant, too. Get a whiff of this, Janie!” Trixie uncovered the bowl, still warm. “Mmmmm... mmmmm, delicious! Bobby went to bed only a minute ago. Please, Mrs. Belden, may he come downstairs?”

“If you’ll promise to eat every bit of your share. You hardly ate a thing for dinner,” she replied.

“Oh, dear!” Trixie said. “We were all wishing so much that you could be at Mrs. Vanderpoel’s house. We ate and ate and ate. She’s almost as good a cook as you are, Moms.”

“Flattery! Flattery! Here comes Bobby. He heard his name.”

“I smelled something good.”

“You couldn’t possibly eat, after the way you crammed yourself at dinner.”

“I can
always
eat. Mmmm... pheasant! Here, you have some, too, Moms... just a little bite. Daddy?”

“Who do you suppose was at Mrs. Vanderpoel’s house with us this evening? Guess!” Trixie’s eyes shone.

“Spider!” Bobby shouted.

“Who told you?”

“Mart did.” Bobby giggled. “Mart did, when he told Moms you could stay at Mrs. Vanderpoels house for dinner. I wish Spider was still living in that house, Trixie.”

“So does he, Bobby. I don’t think he’s too happy in his job at White Plains, do you, Honey?”

Nobody who’s ever lived in Sleepyside is completely happy anywhere else. I know I’d never be.”

“Mrs. Vanderpoel wishes Spider still lived with her, too. You know, Moms, it’s kind of scary back there in the woods. I keep remembering the time I stayed there all night, and Snipe and his nephew tried to rob the place.”

Mrs. Belden smiled. “It seems funny now, but it was frightening at the time. I don’t like to think of it. The funny part was the way Mrs. Vanderpoel was ready for the thieves. Isn’t she wonderful?” Trixie giggled. “She took down her father’s old rifle and aimed it at them and said she’d shoot their heads off if they came an inch closer.”

Mrs. Beldens face became sober. “They
could
have shot first. The situations you get yourself into, Trixie—you and Honey!”

“They scare me to pieces, too, Mrs. Belden, Honey said. “But Trixie always gets us out of danger, someway.”

“Maybe she does, but I keep thinking the time will come when she won’t. I suppose you and Spider had a big fun time talking over all that’s happened.”

“We did,” Trixie said. “I told him all about the things that are puzzling us and all about Janie.” Mrs. Belden looked at Janie and saw her face sadden. “Did he have any suggestions to make?”

“Not a thing,” Honey said. “He wanted to. He even went with us up to the trail in the woods. He thought he might possibly find some kind of a clue. He didn’t, though. The men were working there on the fence Daddy ordered them to build. All Spider turned up was an old, half-filled tobacco can... ugh!”

Trixie shuddered, too, at the memory of that awful-smelling tobacco... and something else.
Where did I smell that very same smell? Someplace before the Bronx. Where was it? It was someplace I hated. I was afraid
.... “What did you say, Moms?” Mrs. Belden busied herself clearing up the dishes they had used, rinsing them, setting them aside to be washed in the morning. “I said we’d better all make this an early-to-bed night. Skip along, Bobby. I don’t think anyone in this house slept well last night, after that terrible day we had.”

“We’ll go in a minute, Moms,” Mart said. “I just want Janie to pick out the melody of that song she sang. I don’t mean the King Arthur one—the other one.” Mart hummed. “I was trying to remember it at Mrs. Vanderpoel’s.” He went ahead of Janie into the living room and handed her his guitar. “How did it go, Janie?”

“I’ll just play the tune on one string. It’ll be easier for you to remember if I don’t chord it. Listen, Mart. It’s in F sharp:

“ ‘Down in the churchyard,

All covered with snow,

My true love’s a-lying.

Hang your head low.

Mourn for my true love,

Under the snow,

Mourn for my sweet love.

Hang your head low.’ ”

Mr. Belden looked up from his newspaper. “Can’t you think of something less mournful?” Mart hummed, trying to harmonize with Janie.

“What did you say, Dad? Oh, blast! There’s the telephone.”

“I’ll get it,” Brian called.

Trixie could hear his voice on the kitchen extension. He must be talking to Jim. Something was “swell.”

“What was it?” she asked Brian when he came into the room. “What was so swell?”

“It was Jim. When he took Spider back to the police station, where he’d left his patrol car, Jim saw Sergeant Molinson just leaving. He said he guessed Jim’s cousin was happy now, since those papers she’d been waiting for so long had arrived and she had finished her business at the courthouse.”

“Gol... I’m sure glad for her,” Mart said. “I guess I’m glad for everyone concerned. But, say... that’s funny....”

“What’s funny, Mart?” Janie asked and put down the guitar.

“We saw her just a short time ago at Mrs. Vanderpoel’s... Juliana....”