The Mystery on Cobbett's Island (21 page)

“Why you dirty little double-crosser!” he screamed as he wrenched away, tripping her and sending her
sprawling on the floor. Jim dived on top of him, giving Trixie a chance to recover her footing. Brian quickly retrieved the gun and hurled it as hard as he could through a window in the back of the barn.

“Pete, get Abe!” yelled Trixie, who was terror-stricken when she saw Slim land a-blow on Jim's shoulder which sent him reeling backward. Both boys were fighting like tigers. Jim was barely able to recover his balance before Slim moved in on him again. But, although Slim was as quick and lithe as a cat, he was outmatched by Jim whose training in boxing now stood him in good stead. Watching for an opening, Jim finally landed a right uppercut to Slim's jaw which sent him to his knees.

“Grab those halters,” Trixie cried out to Mart, as Brian and Jim fell on top of Slim, so groggy now that he offered no more resistance. They tied his hands together behind his back, and then pushing him over, they put a second halter securely around his ankles.

“That'll hold you, you bum,” Jim said as he stood up and brushed the dirt from his clothes. It was not until then that Trixie noticed an ugly swelling on Jim's forehead, or noticed that her own knees and hands were scraped raw where she had fallen.

“A fine pair we'll make going back to Sleepyside!” she said, managing a smile.

Honey and Di, the color drained from their tense faces, had felt completely helpless to do anything while the fight was going on. Now they insisted that Trixie and Jim get out of the dust-filled stable and into the fresh air. Trixie waited only long enough to pick up the money and the tin box before going outside.

“It does feel good to lie down,” Jim conceded as he flung himself down on the grass. “How about you, Trixie, are you okay?” he asked solicitously as she sat down near him, and the others crowded around.

“Oh, sure. This isn't half as bad as the bumps I used to get when Honey was teaching me to ride,” she chuckled, “but I
do
wish Abe would come. That character in there worries me.”

“Don't worry about him. He's trussed up tighter than a Thanksgiving turkey,” Mart said, glancing into the barn to make sure. He saw that all of Slim's bravado was gone, the fight in him expended, and he lay quietly, just looking up toward the loft as if to ask himself how he'd managed to land in this situation.

“You know, I can't help feeling sorry for him,” Trixie said as she toyed with a blade of grass. “He's had two strikes against him from the start, because he's not very bright, you know.”

“He sure isn't,” Brian agreed, “but with the right
kind of training he might have amounted to something, don't you think so, Jim?”

“He's the sort I'd like to help in my school some day, but you should get them when they're young, before the wrong habits get set,” Jim commented.

“What'll happen to him now? I wonder,” asked Di, her eyes filling with pity. “He seems so—”

Her question was interrupted by the scream of a siren, and in a moment they saw the police car coming up the back road. “And here comes Peter with some man,” cried Trixie, looking toward the house.

“What's this all about?” Abe asked as he came running up to them.

“Trixie always gets her man,” Jim volunteered with a smile, “only this time it's a boy. Look in the stable.” And they followed Abe inside.

He took one look at Slim, whistled softly, and pushed his cap to the back of his head. “Slim Novarski, isn't it?” he asked as he knelt down beside the boy.

“Yeh,” Slim grunted. “So what?”

“The Greenpoint police are going to be very glad to see you, my friend,” Abe said. “They've been looking for you for a week or more. You're suspected of stealing a powerboat, among other things. Am I right?”

“I don't know nothin' about no powerboat,” Slim muttered, giving Abe a nasty look.

“Well, he knows plenty about the buoy lights,” Trixie said, her eyes snapping, “and ask him if he's got a permit to carry a gun. I'll just bet he stole that, too.”

“A gun!” Abe exclaimed. “Are you serious? Where is it?”

“Brian threw it out the back window after I—” Trixie hesitated.

“After she outsmarted Slim and got the gun away from him,” Jim added proudly.

Peter, who had meanwhile come up to the edge of the circle, stepped forward and, putting his arms around Jim's and Brian's shoulders, said, “Maybe we'd better begin at the beginning of this story. This is my dad, and he doesn't know anything about Slim or the letter. He just got home from Vermont this morning.”

Mr. Kimball was a tall, well-built man with graying hair and an easy manner. His friendly remarks as he was being introduced made everyone feel a little more at ease. Peter then suggested that Trixie tell about their adventure. She felt the color rising in her cheeks, but, encouraged by a smile from Jim, she recounted in detail the discovery of the letter and the subsequent search for the money. She avoided mentioning the fact that
they had consulted Abe about it in the beginning.

No need to embarrass him
, she thought, but when she was finished, Abe turned to Mr. Kimball and said, “If this had ended with somebody getting badly hurt, I'd have only myself to blame, sir. You see, Peter told me about the letter right after they found it, but I didn't take it seriously. How wrong can you be?” he added ruefully, shaking his head.

“Well, we won't worry about that now,” Mr. Kimball assured him, “but I think we'd better do something about Slim. What's the procedure, Abe?”

“I'll just put these bracelets on him and take him over to the lockup in the Town Hall while I talk with the chief in Greenpoint and with the Coast Guard,” he said as he took the handcuffs from his belt. “Will one of you see if you can find the gun? We'll need it for evidence, and later in the day, I'd like to get a deposition from you about Slim's confession.”

As Brian dashed around back of the barn, Slim said, “I didn't confess nothin'. That dame there double-crossed me.” He tossed his head in Trixie's direction and gave her a menacing look.

“Okay, okay, Slim. You'll have a chance to tell the judge all about it. How old are you, by the way?” Abe asked sharply.

“Seventeen, next fall,” the boy mumbled. “What's it to you?”

“It's nothing to me,” Abe replied in a more kindly voice, “but it may mean something to you. You're classed as a juvenile until you're eighteen, so your case will be heard in private at the Children's Court. If they find you guilty, there's a good chance you'll be sent to school instead of to prison.”

“Who says school ain't prison?” Slim snarled back, and then, shaking his head as though confused by his own thoughts, he asked, “You mean one of them schools where you go to live and they learn you a trade or how to farm, or something?” He sounded faintly interested.

“That's what I mean,” Abe answered and then waited for Slim's reaction.

“Gee, maybe that ain't such a bum idea. I wouldn't have to scrounge around for food no more. I'd have a place to flop at night, and …” His voice trailed off into silence.

“Does your family live in Greenpoint?” Mr. Kimball asked him.

“Naw. My father died when I was a kid. Then me and my mother moved to Jersey. After that, she got jobs around waiting on tables, but she took sick last year, and they sent her to a hospital. I scrammed out, figuring if I
stuck around I'd only be a worry to her.” Unexpected tears welled in the boy's eyes, and turning to Abe, he said in a quiet voice, “Okay, let's get going.”

By this time Brian had returned with the gun. He handed it over to Abe who, after examining it closely, turned to Mr. Kimball and said, “I'm glad to say this thing isn't loaded, but I believe it takes the same kind of shells the Coast Guard picked up on top of one of the buoys. So I guess our hunt is over.”

Mr. Kimball thanked Abe for his help and suggested that the whole affair be kept quiet for a day or so, until they determined who was the rightful owner of the money, then he said, “Now, let's get back to the house, son, and talk this thing over a little further.”

He beckoned the Bob-Whites to join them, and together they walked slowly across the fields and through the gardens.

“I wish you'd take charge of the money,” Trixie said to Mr. Kimball. “I'd feel safer if you would.”

“Why can't we hide it in the little secret closet behind the paneling?” Honey suggested.

“That's as good a place as any,” Peter's father agreed, “until you can give it to—what was her name?”

“Ethel, Ethel Hall,” Trixie replied. “You see, when we went to see El, he told us about how Ed had been lost
at sea and how his wife started a bakery. So we looked in the telephone book and found one in Easthampton called ‘Ethel's Bakery,' and yesterday we went to see her and—” Trixie ran out of breath and laughingly threw up her hands.

Mr. Kimball shook his head as he said, “Well, I can see what Mother meant when she wrote me the Bob-Whites and Peter were keeping busy, but I guess she didn't know you were doing some sleuthing along with everything else. Now, to get back to Ethel,” he continued. “Are you absolutely sure she's Ed's wife?”

“Oh, we
know
she is,” they all cried at once.

“You must realize that when this story comes out, someone else may show up to claim the money,” he explained, “so you have to have proof that will stand up in court.”

“El could testify about Ed and Ethel, couldn't he?” Peter asked. “He's known them both for years.”

“Yes, that would help, but you still haven't proof that it was Ethel's husband who wrote the letter about the money.”

“I have it!” Trixie exclaimed. “If we could show that the handwriting in the letter was really Ed's, wouldn't that be proof enough?”

“I should think so, but how do you propose to do
it?” Mr. Kimball asked, smiling indulgently at Trixie.

“Well, when we were in the bakery yesterday talking to Mrs. Hall, she showed us a picture of her husband. Down at the bottom it said, ‘To my dear Ethel, with love from Ed.' The writing was just the same neat backhand as the letter, and I'm sure there was the same little squiggle under both signatures.”

“That's good enough proof in any court, I should think,” Mr. Kimball said.

“You know, young Ed is coming home tomorrow,” Trixie continued, her mind racing ahead. “Wouldn't it be fun to take the money over when he's there and surprise them?”

“We've got a perfect excuse for going,” Brian put in. “You know she asked me over to talk with Ed about medical school, and she invited all of you, too.”

“Hey, wait a minute,” Mart interrupted. “Have you perchance forgotten that we leave for home tomorrow?”

“Oh, we can fix that,” Honey said. “I'll ask Miss Trask if we can't start back tomorrow afternoon instead, and I know when she hears about the money she'll say yes.”

“Gleeps, Honey, that would be perfect,” Trixie said. “We'll get packed this evening so we'll be all ready to take off.”

“We'd better call Ethel and see if it's all right for us to go over tomorrow,” Jim suggested. “Ed may not want a bunch of strangers descending on him, his first day home.”

“Brian, you go call her while we're putting the box in the closet,” Peter said as they went into the house. “There's a telephone in the library.”

“And don't say a thing about the money,” Trixie warned. “We want it to be a complete surprise.”

Brian soon joined them in the sitting-room to report that Mrs. Hall was delighted to hear they were coming over. “As a matter of fact, she insisted on our coming for lunch,” he added. “When I started to protest that it would be lots of trouble for her, she said she wouldn't take no for an answer. She's going to pack a picnic lunch to take to the beach so we'll have a chance to swim in the surf. Ed would love it, she knew. You know how she chatters!”

“I
hope
Ed will love it.” Diana giggled. “He may have plans of his own, you know, and not want to be bothered with us.”

“Only time will tell,” Mart said philosophically. “I only hope Mrs. Hall doesn't forget my penchant for jelly doughnuts when she's packing the lunch.”

“How
could
she forget,” cried Trixie, “when your
‘penchant,' as you call your unnatural craving, led you to buy two dozen of the things?”

“Only a dozen, dear sister. Don't exaggerate,” Mart flung back.

Their friendly bickering was cut short by Jim's suggesting they go down to see Abe, so they would have the rest of the day free to pack for the trip home.

After thanking Mr. Kimball for his help and advice, the Bob-Whites drove with Peter to the Town Hall. They found Abe in the little office he dignified with the name “Police Headquarters.” He was sitting with his feet up on an old rolltop desk, but as they came in, he sprang up and made a rather futile attempt to provide seats in the cramped room. It ended with Trixie and Honey sitting on the desk, Di in the one extra chair, and the boys squeezing on top of a filing cabinet and a small iron safe.