“But how could he have expected us to know what his nickname was for the thief? How could he have expected us to know there was a thief?” Trixie asked.

  “He doesn’t remember what he said right before the accident, remember?” Brian said.

  “I remember that he doesn’t remember. I was there when he told me he didn’t remember. Remember?” Trixie returned her brother’s teasing of the day before. “Anyway, I don’t have to have a solution for what ‘the miser’ is. All I have to do is point out that it doesn’t make sense for Mr. Meiser to have written that on the note, if he was the vandal.”

  “All right,” Brian said wearily. “I’ll give you one point for that one. What are the other two?”

  Trixie snapped her fingers as another thought occurred to her. “Henry Meiser told us cars were his passion. I could tell they were from the way he talked about them in the hospital. If he wanted to do something to scare us, the last thing he’d do would be to vandalize an antique car.”

  “I can turn that argument right around to prove it was Henry Meiser who vandalized the car,” Brian said. “Someone who didn’t love cars wouldn’t have stopped with slashed tires and broken headlights if they wanted to vandalize a car. They seem like big items to us, but those are probably the two most easily replaced items on the Model A. Mr. Meiser would have picked the car to vandalize because he’d know we’d associate him with it. But he’d pull his punches for the car’s sake, not ours.”

  “What’s your third point?” Dan asked.

  “The man I talked to in the hospital yesterday just wasn’t the type to do anything destructive,” Trixie said stubbornly.

  “He went to prison for committing assault,” Brian said. “That’s pretty destructive.”

  “End of round three,” Jim said softly. “I’m afraid you haven’t convinced any of us, Trix.”

  “Well, I’ve convinced myself, anyway,” Trixie told him. “And I’m more sure than ever about something else.”

  “What’s that?” Jim asked,

  “Henry Meiser’s hit-and-run accident was no accident. Somebody ran him down intentionally.”

  “Not that theory again!” Brian exclaimed.

  “Well, think about it. If Mr. Meiser wasn't the one who vandalized the car, somebody else was. But it must be somebody connected with him, because he was connected with the car,” Trixie said.

  “And that just logically leads you to the conclusion that somebody ran him down on purpose,” Brian said, shaking his head. “I wish they offered a course in logic at Sleepyside Junior-Senior High School. I’d force you to sign up for it.”

  “No,” Mart said. “Such overt cruelty would be unwarranted. Our distaff sibling would be incapable of attaining a passing grade in such a course. She would become the oldest freshman enrolled in our alma mater.”

  Trixie flushed and opened her mouth to speak, but Brian gestured for silence. “I’m sorry about my wisecrack, Trixie. I really am. It may turn out that your hunch is right and someone did run Mr. Meiser down intentionally. But there’s nothing we can do about that now. We can call Mr. Burnside and tell him about the car. I think we’d better go do that.“

  “Meeting adjourned,” Jim said, rising from his chair. “Let’s go over to Manor House to make the call. That’s the closest phone. I don’t mind admitting I’d like to have this over with.”

  The four boys rose and walked to the door. Trixie remained seated, resting her chin on her hand. Honey continued to sit across the table, looking at her best friend anxiously.

  “Are you girls coming along?” Jim asked over his shoulder.

  Honey shook her head and motioned for her brother to go on ahead. Jim nodded understandingly. “They were pretty hard on you, Trixie,” Honey said softly when the door had closed behind the boys.

  “That’s what I get for telling them my theories. Sergeant Molinson said today that he’d like to sentence me to a year’s silence. I wish he would!” Trixie said hotly.

  “Well, you convinced me, anyway,” Honey said. “I don’t think Mr. Meiser was the vandal, either.“

  “You’re not just saying that, are you?” Trixie asked. Honey shook her head. “At least you convinced me that the case isn’t as cut-and-dried as Sergeant Molinson made it sound. If the boys knew about the woman on Glenwood Avenue—”

  “They’d tell me she was afraid of Henry Meiser or of something totally unrelated,” Trixie concluded. “I thought about telling them, but I knew Brian and Mart would have a fit because I didn’t say anything when Sergeant Molinson was at the house today.“

  “That’s right!” Honey said. “Oh, Trixie, you should have told him]”

  “Probably,” Trixie admitted. “I was about to, but I remembered what you said. I don’t want to make that woman more terrified than she already is.“

  “Trixie Belden, when I said that, Henry Meiser hadn’t left Sleepyside Hospital in the middle of the night!” Honey said. “Even if he didn’t vandalize the Model A, everything is different now.”

  “Nothing is different,” Trixie protested. “We still have no good reason to believe that woman is connected with Henry Meiser.”

  “We don’t have any good reasons, but you do believe it, don’t you?” Honey guessed.

  Trixie grinned sheepishly. “You’re reading my thoughts again, Honey. I do think there’s a connection. That’s why I want to go back to that house, right now!”

  “Go back!” Honey exclaimed. “Oh, Trixie, we can’t do that! How will we explain it to the boys?“

  “We don’t have to. They’ll be busy with the car all afternoon. We’ll just tell our parents we have an errand to run in town.”

  “But what can you hope to find out by going back to the house?” Honey asked.

  “I don’t know,” Trixie admitted. “But it’s the only way I can think of to get some proof that that woman is connected with Henry Meiser. Once we have proof, we’ll go to the police. I promise.”

  Honey sighed. “There’s no point in arguing. Your mind is made up. Let’s go.”

  Half an hour later, the two girls were biking slowly along Glenwood Avenue, trying to look as though they were out for a leisurely ride. Only Trixie’s glowing face showed how fast they had pedaled to get there.

  “Look,” Trixie whispered. “There are two kids playing hopscotch in front of the house. And one of them is the little girl we saw the other day.”

  Trixie stopped her bike in front of the house, holding herself upright with a foot against the curb. “Hi!” she called. “It’s a nice day for hopscotch.”

  The little girl paused, wobbling on one foot. She bent to pick up her stone and hopped to the end of the pattern chalked on the walk. “It’s nice to be outside,” she said, walking over to Trixie and Honey.

  “That’s right. You weren’t supposed to play outside,” Trixie prompted.

  “That was before,” the little girl said. “We always played outside until we moved here. Then we couldn’t for a while, and now we can again!”

  “I’m glad,” Trixie said. “It’s no fun to be in the house all the time.”

  The little girl shook her head solemnly. “It sure isn’t. It seemed like months and months before we got to go out.”

  “Were you sick?” Trixie asked. “Is that why you couldn’t go out?”

  “I told you I wasn’t,” the little girl said. “It kind of seemed like Mommy was, though. She cried all the time. Except sometimes she yelled. She doesn’t usually yell. She’s happier now, though, ever since Uncle Hank came to visit.”

  Trixie felt a sudden chill as the little girl’s words registered on her mind. Uncle Hank was here for a visit—and Hank was a nickname for Henry!

  “How long ago did Uncle Hank get here?” Trixie asked, trying to sound casual.

  “Oh, just—” The little girl’s reply was interrupted by her mother.

  “Melissa, you get in here this minute! Can’t I trust you at all? Come on! Davey, you, too!” the woman shrieked.

  “Oh-oh. Mommy’s mad again. I gotta go.” The little girl turned and ran back toward the house, pushing her little brother ahead of her.

  Trixie and Honey stared at the two children as they ran into the house. “Well,” Trixie said, “there’s our connection.”

  Held Hostage! • 10

  HONEY WAS THE FIRST to rouse herself and start pedaling slowly down Glenwood Avenue once more. Trixie remained, staring at the house for a moment. Then she began to follow her friend.

  “I guess it’s time to go to Sergeant Molinson, isn’t it?” Honey asked softly. She waited for Trixie’s reply, and when none came, she repeated more loudly, “Isn’t it?”

  “I don’t know,” Trixie said slowly.

  “Trixie!” Honey’s voice was raised in exasperation. “You said before that we couldn’t tell the sergeant about the woman in the house because there was no real proof of a connection between her and Henry Meiser. ‘Uncle Hank’ is the proof of a connection. What possible reason can you have for wanting to wait any longer?”

  “The reason I want to wait longer is that I think I’ve waited too long already,” Trixie said.

  “That makes no sense at all,” Honey told her. “You’d think it makes sense if you’d seen Sergeant Molinson’s face turning as purple as a plum this morning when he found out I’d told Mr. Meiser about the fingerprint check,” Trixie said miserably.

  “It seems to me that’s all the more reason for going to him right now and telling him about this house,” Honey said. “He’ll stop being angry as soon as he has Henry Meiser back in custody.”

  “And he’ll start being angry again when he finds out we’ve known that there was something strange going on in that house for the past few days and didn’t say anything,” Trixie retorted.

  Honey thought about that for a moment. “You’re right. He’ll tell us we should have let him do the deciding about what’s suspicious and what isn’t, instead of taking it on ourselves,” she said finally.

  “He said this morning that he wished he could charge me with something,” Trixie said. “When he finds out about this, he’ll probably start leafing through the law books for something that carries a life sentence.”

  Honey giggled at her friend’s exaggerated gloom.

  “I really don’t think it will be that bad, Trix. It won’t be any fun to face him, though. But I don’t see what else we can do.”

  “We could just wait a day or two and see if the police catch Mr. Meiser,” Trixie said hopefully. “Sergeant Molinson knows he’s here on Glenwood Avenue. It’s probably only a matter of time until they find the house.”

  Honey shook her head. “I don’t think that would be the right thing to do,” she said. “First of all, we know that Mr. Meiser is hurt. I think he’d be better off back in custody, where he’d at least be in the prison ward of a hospital.

  “And second, what about that woman and her children? I’d hate to see them hurt, and they could be if the police stumble onto the house and Henry Meiser gets desperate.”

  “Oh, woe!” Trixie said. “You’re right both times, Honey.”

  “Then we’ll go to the police,” Honey said firmly. She turned her bike in a wide arc and started back toward the downtown section of Sleepyside.

  Trixie turned slowly to follow. She coasted for a moment, then she pedaled quickly to catch up with Honey. “I have an idea!” she said hoarsely.

  “Oh, no,” Honey groaned.

  “Now wait—just listen to what I have to say,” Trixie pleaded. “Suppose Henry Meiser decides to turn himself in. If he goes to the police station by himself, the woman and her children won’t be in any trouble. And nobody will ever have to know that we knew he was in that house.”

  “That’s a wonderful idea, all right,” Honey said flatly. “As soon as I get home, I’ll get out my lucky rabbit’s foot, and when it gets dark, I’ll make a wish on the first star for Mr. Meiser to turn himself in.“

  “No,” Trixie said scornfully. “I mean we could talk Mr. Meiser into turning himself in.”

  Honey stopped riding and propped herself against a curb. She stared at Trixie as if her friend had taken leave of her senses.

  “It’s so simple!” Trixie exclaimed. “We’ll come back tonight after dinner. We’ll tell the woman who lives there that we know Mr. Meiser is there, but we haven’t told the police. That will get her trust. Then we’ll ask her if we can talk to him.”

  “And he’ll hit us on the head with something and escape again. How will we explain that to Sergeant Molinson?” Honey asked.

  “I don’t think he’ll hurt us, Honey.” She clapped her hands over her ears as she saw Honey start to protest. “I know, I know. He’s been convicted of assault, and that proves he’s dangerous. But it doesn’t—it doesn’t prove anything to me, I mean. I talked to Henry Meiser for a long time at the hospital. I just don’t think he’s a violent person.”

  “If I tell you I won’t come back here tonight, what will you do?” Honey asked.

  “I’ll come alone,” Trixie answered firmly.

  “And if I call Sergeant Molinson this afternoon and tell him where to find Henry Meiser, will you ever forgive me?” Honey asked.

  Trixie didn’t answer.

  “All right,” Honey sighed. “We’ll come back tonight after dinner.”

  At seven-thirty, the two girls were hurrying down Glenwood Avenue toward the mysterious house, where they were sure Henry Meiser was hiding.

  “Do you think Brian and Mart believed you when you said we wanted to canvass for the rummage sale tonight to make up for the work they did on the Model A today?” Honey asked.

  “They must have. Brian offered to drive us to Sleepyside and pick us up, didn’t he? I think they were just so relieved that Mr. Burnside wasn’t angry that they weren’t thinking about anything else,” Trixie answered.

  “It is perfectly perfect ot-Mr. Burnside to help them find replacement parts and let them keep the car for the sale and everything,” Honey said.

  “It’s ‘perfectly perfect’ that his insurance policy on the car only had a fifty dollar deduction, or whatever you call it,” Trixie added. “We’ll be able to work that off in one afternoon.” She paused to catch her breath. The mysterious house was only half a block away. “I just wish Brian had given us more time.”

  “We have all the time we need,” Honey said. “If we can’t persuade Henry Meiser to give himself up in the next hour, we’ll never be able to.”

  The girls paused in front of the house.

  “Well, here goes,” Trixie said. She moved slowly up the walk. She stopped and started to turn as she heard Honey’s stifled scream.

  Then a hand was clapped over Trixie’s mouth, and a harsh voice said, “Just one noise from you girls, and it’s the last one you’ll ever make!”

  Trixie gritted her teeth to keep the scream that was rising in her throat from escaping. She felt herself being half-dragged across the lawn. Above the hand that was still clamped tightly across her nose and mouth, Trixie saw a vehicle parked at the curb. She knew that their captor was pushing them toward the open back doors of a green van!

  Trixie and Honey landed hard on the floor of the van, and the doors slammed behind them while they were still pulling themselves upright.

  Trixie drew in deep breaths, grateful that at least the suffocating hand had been removed. She felt Honey’s icy hand clench her arm, and she covered her friend’s hand with her own.

  Their captor hoisted himself into the driver’s seat and put the van in gear.

  “I know who you are,” Trixie said. “You’re the man who ran down Henry Meiser!”

  The driver chuckled. “That’s not who I am at all, young lady. That’s what I did. Who I am is Andy Kowalski.” He turned and looked at the girls with a nasty smile on his face. “I knocked old Hank down the other night, all right. But I was just returning a favor, so to speak,” the man continued.

  The statement clicked in Trixie’s churning mind. “You’re the man who used to work for Mr. Meiser— the one he assaulted.”

  “He told you about that, did he?” Andy Kowalski guessed. “I knew you kids were chummy with the old coot, but I didn’t know you were that close.”

  “He didn’t tell us anything,” Honey protested. “Sure. You just figured it out for yourselves,” Andy Kowalski said sarcastically.

  “I can see why you’d want to get revenge on Henry Meiser, after what he did to you,” Trixie said in what she hoped was a soothing voice. “But how do we fit into that?”

  Andy Kowalski chuckled. “It isn’t revenge I’m after, young lady,” he said. “Revenge and forty cents will get you a pack of gum these days. No, I’m after money in the bank. I’m going to use you girls to get hold of the miser.”

  “The miser again!” Trixie exclaimed. “Who is the miser?”

  “Are you kidding?” he asked, sounding genuinely surprised. “No, I guess you probably aren’t. Old Hank would have to get pretty close to somebody to tell them he’d come up with the most revolutionary new invention in a hundred years.”

  Honey and Trixie exchanged astonished glances.

  The man chuckled again. “Well, I guess the joke’s on me. That little note I left for you kids must not have meant a thing to you. I’m glad I didn’t pay for a stamp!”

  “Then you’re the one who vandalized the Model A!” Trixie said.

  “Who’d you think it was, Santa Claus?” he growled. “I saw you kids with Meiser the night I ran him down. I saw you going to visit Eileen, his secretary. I saw you coming out of his room at the hospital. So I knew you must have got friendly with the old weirdo somehow. He was always real good to Eileen’s kids, buying them toys at Christmas and all. I figured maybe young people in general were the only ones he trusted. I also figured he might trust you to get the miser hidden away somewhere, once he knew I’d tracked him to Sleepyside and most of the way to Eileen’s hideout.”

  Andy Kowalski pulled the van over to the curb. He reached into the front of his shirt and pulled out a gun. “I’ll be back in a minute. And I won’t go so far that a few of these bullets couldn’t catch up with you if you try to run away,” he said, gesturing with the gun. “So you just wait right here.” He climbed out of the van, laughing at the joke he’d just made.

 

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