Chapter 3

The Bob-White Station wagon was strangely silent as the quartet made their way back to Glen Road after their evening in town. The next day was Sunday and everyone would be afforded the luxury of sleeping in. Not one of them would choose to take advantage of that opportunity. The male Bob-Whites were biologically hard-wired to be early risers. Regardless of social influences, none of them seemed to be able to sleep late. This so-called “farmer gene” had been the catalyst for more arguments between the male and female Bob-Whites than Trixie’s natural detective instincts.

“Anyone feel like going for a quick horseback ride?” Jim asked, parking the station wagon at Manor House. “We have enough daylight left to make it worthwhile.”

“Sure,” the rest of the Bob-Whites chorused in response.

Only when they were back in the stable from their ride, brushing horses and cleaning tack did Mart finally broach the subject they’d all painstakingly been avoiding since they left Wimpy’s. “This is nuts!” He shoved Starlight’s grooming gear into the storage bin with more force than necessary. Placing his hands on his hips, he turned and looked at the others. “Do any of you think Mike’s theory about Spider is true? You know, that Trixie inspires him.”

Dan laughed. “Yeah, about like Barney Fife inspires Sheriff Taylor! You’re kidding, right? Spider wouldn’t – ” He stopped suddenly, his jaw dropping as he realized he was the only one laughing.

“It’s well known that literary detectives have their sidekicks,” Brian speculated. “Sherlock had Holmes. Poirot had Hastings.” He stopped suddenly, snapped his fingers, and pointed at Dan with a grin. “Perry Mason had Della Street!”

“No way!” Mart protested. “Perry Mason’s sidekick was Paul Drake. Della was the love interest.”

Jim rolled his eyes. He had no desire to enter an argument that would imply in any way that Trixie was Spider’s love interest a la Perry Mason and Della Street. He interjected himself into the conversation in an attempt to divert the others from the topic. “We all know if Trixie were here instead of at camp we’d be up to our eyeballs in this mystery. Maybe it’s just me, but I think Mike may be right. We all know she’d be asking questions. Lots of questions.”

“And she’d be running all over town looking for answers, getting herself into trouble along the way,” Brain muttered. He seemed more interested in an invisible spot on the tack than the mystery at Wong’s Red Moon.

Mart picked up a broom and started sweeping. “Maybe …” he suggested tentatively. “Maybe we should at least ask some questions about this hold-up.”

“The whole thing doesn’t make a lot of sense.” Dan resigned himself to amateur detective status. Fleetingly he wondered if he would be Frank or Joe Hardy. In his mind, either of his favorite NCIS detectives would be preferable: Special Agent Leroy Gibbs or the mysterious Agent G. Callen from the L.A. version. Putting the thoughts aside, he continued the conversation. “Armed robbery in Sleepyside is not uncommon, but it’s not an every week occurrence either. This particular crime doesn’t sound like your usual restaurant holdup.”

“There are some elements that sound off to me, too,” Jim admitted. He looked at Brian. “What do you think?”

Brian quit pretending the tack was dirty and took a deep breath before looking up. Of all of them, he’d been the most vocal about enjoying a mystery-free summer without Trixie to sniff one out. Now, he was surprised to find he was just as curious as his friends. Things didn’t add up. There was more to this local looting than met the eye. He glanced around the stable and noticed all eyes on him. He nodded affirmatively as if deciding. “I think we should check into it. This is about more than the money.”

Mart breathed a sigh of relief and grabbed the dustpan to finish the sweeping job. “Has anyone read what The Sun had to say about it?”

They all shook their heads but Jim offered a solution. “This morning’s Sun is inside. We can check it out as soon as we finish here.”

“Then hurry up, James,” Mart instructed with an airy wave of his hand. “You know that the correct procedure for a Bob White mystery is for the curly-haired blond to impatiently wait for the rest of you to finish so we can hurry up and look at something that will be there no matter how long it takes us here.”

Dan threw a curry brush at him. “You’re not her almost twin for nothing, are you?”

As it turned out, the local paper revealed little that they hadn’t already heard from Mike. In fact, Mike had actually provided a couple of tidbits that hadn’t been mentioned in the article – like the baseball bats.

“Do you think Mike got it wrong?” Jim asked, his brow knitting as he read the article a second time.

“No way!” Mart insisted. “He said he heard it from Cindy. Besides, it’s pretty common for the police to hold back certain facts from the public. They use those to help solve the crime.”

“Mart’s right,” Dan confirmed. “Mike probably has a more accurate story than The Sun.”

“I’ll tell you one thing that’s strange about this story,” Brian looked up from the paper to a trio of expectant expressions. “They only partially describe the punks.”

“Punks?” Mart asked. “Bro, have you been watching Clint Eastwood movies? The hip term is perp.”

“Perp is way out of date,” Dan broke in. “Unsub is what the FBI guys use.”

“I’ve always been partial to crooks,” Jim spoke up. “Although if I worked for the paper and wrote a story about the robbery, I’d have to say alleged crooks.”

“Crooks, perps, unsubs, who cares,” Brian offered. “There is still only a partial description.” He read from the article. “’One suspect has been described as light-skinned, heavy set and wearing jeans with a plain gray teeshirt. Another is said to be of similar coloring, thin build, and wearing a white tee with a New York Mets logo across the front and a red baseball cap. A third suspect, wearing jeans, work boots and navy jacket was also involved. No one was injured during the robbery.’” He looked around at his friends. “See what I mean?”

Mart shook his head. “No, what do you mean?”

“What sex are these so called criminals?” Dan pointed out as he reached for the paper. “Brian’s right. There is nothing to indicate if they were male or female.”

“Don’t they usually mention height?” Jim asked.

“Do you think three women held up the Red Moon Café?” Mart asked in disbelief. “That would be out of the ordinary. Even so, why didn’t they mention it in the article?”

“Maybe Ms. Wong wasn’t sure if they were male or female,” Jim pointed out. “If they’re all wearing jeans and tee-shirts, it’s possible to appear fairly androgynous in that sort of attire. And if only one did the talking ….” His voice trailed off as he considered the possibility.

“We should talk to Cindy Wong,” Brian suggested. “Jim and I could stop by there next week. It would be hard to have to eat more of her pot stickers but I think we can take one for the team.” He shot an evil grin toward Mart, knowing he had beaten his younger brother to the punch.

Mart scowled. He knew he'd been bested as both Dan and Jim instantly agreed with Brian's proposition. He offered instead a different approach. “Dad might be able to give me some insights into why restaurants go under,” he suggested. “I'll see what I can find out from him about the Red Moon Cafe. Who knows, it's possible they borrowed money from the bank.”

“We should check out the police blotter at The Sun. Let's see if there have been any other hold-ups in the area,” Jim suggested. “I can do that next week. Maybe even see what's out there on the internet about crimes in Westchester County.”

“Good idea,” Dan concurred. “I have to get to Mr. Lytell's store tomorrow to get the Sunday paper for Mr. Maypenny. I'll ask him what he knows. Not much goes on around here that he doesn't know something about.”

The four boys looked at each other and then gave a collective groan.

“I don't believe it!” Mart clutched his crew cut in frustration. “She's not even here and we're getting involved in a mystery. How does she do it?”

Brian shook his head. “Beats me! Maybe we should think of it in terms of nature versus nurture. Whatever Trixie's inherent genetic quality is that makes her attract mysteries has developed into an environmental influence on the rest of us, resulting in a new social determinism. We are what we associate with.”

“Good grief, Brian! From what I followed from that, Mart's inherent genetic quality that makes him use complicated words has resulted in you eating a dictionary as well.” Dan rolled his eyes in disgust. “We might as well admit it while it's just the four of us present and swear on the male code we'll never reveal this to the girls. We enjoy solving mysteries, too. There's nothing wrong with that. It's not like we're going to get involved in the kind of tight spots Trixie gets into. We're just going to ask some questions.”

“Right,” Jim agreed. “We're just going to ask some questions.”

Dan gave him a funny look. “You don't sound very certain about that.”

Jim sighed. “That's because I'm not.”