And in despair I bowed my head;
There is no peace on earth, I said;
For hate is strong,
And mocks the song
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

 

“Hold him, Rocky!” Margery Trask was eagerly grasping the arms of her chair as she leaned forward, willing her favorite wrestler to win as the final bell sounded, signaling the end of the match. 

“It wasn’t a takedown,” Frank Lytell protested.  “Lex wasn’t down.”

Margery Trask shot a teasing grin at her old friend.  “Rocky won, Frank.  You know that Lex Tempest didn’t win that match.”

“It still wasn’t a takedown, Margery,” Frank reminded her as they watched the crowd explode as the judges awarded the match to Rocky Skull. 

“No, but at least he’ll be undefeated next week when he takes on the Demon.” Margery smiled as she glanced over at the clock on the wall.  “It’s getting late.  I’d better be going.”

“Let’s catch the top ten news items, shall we?” Frank Lytell suggested, clicking the remote over to the local news, which routinely promised "the top ten news items in ten minutes from channel ten.”

Margery nodded her consent and relaxed in Frank Lytell’s comfortable chair.  The wrestling matches had been exciting that evening, each of them cheering for their favorite contender.  The Wheelers' children were attending college, and Miss Trask’s duties no longer included chaperoning events.  Her evenings were largely her own.  She only half watched the news as her mind wandered to the things she needed to take care of the following morning.  Honey and Jim would be home for the holidays in a few days.  Frank Lytell’s loud ‘harumphh’ interrupted her musings and she blinked as she focused on the news bite.

“What’s the matter, Frank?” she asked as she noted the ordinary reporting of an update on a store robbery.  One of the store managers had been named as a “person of interest” in the case.

“They don’t have a lick of evidence against that young man,” he snorted in disgust.  “Now they’re going to ruin his reputation by implying he had something to do with that robbery.”

“If he’s innocent, then they’ll clear him of all charges,” Margery said, her voice innocuous as the report seemed ordinary enough.

“If he’s innocent, then they shouldn’t be treating him like he’s guilty.  I just don’t know about today’s law enforcement.  A man’s reputation can be sullied and there doesn’t seem to be any accountability.”  Mr. Lytell sat back in his chair and crossed his arms glaring at the television set.

Margery blinked.  Frank Lytell was well-known in Sleepyside as a cantankerous old man, but she had still managed to find common interests with him and enjoyed spending time with him.  But this… this wasn’t how he usually reacted.  She would have expected Frank to be shouting how they should lock up the ruffians and hooligans that were rampant in society today and throw away the key.    She shook her head as the story moved to the Salvation Army bell ringers.  What has gotten into Frank?

What are you staring at?”  The curious voice of the orderly interrupted Brian’s musings.

“Uh, nothing,” Brian answered, giving him a weak smile. “Just thinking.”

The orderly nodded and with a cheerful holiday greeting proceeded down the hall.

Brian shook his head, wondering what Travis would have thought if he had answered he was staring at the Christmas wreath wondering if it were some type of alien.  He couldn’t stop his thoughts.  The insipid green of the wreath with its plastic red holly berries and brassy bells didn’t make the floor more festive at all.  In fact, the tired wreath seemed to be more like a vampire than a holiday decoration:  sucking the holiday spirit out of him and out of the visitors who emerged from the elevator.  The elevator bell sounded and his current mentor emerged, striding purposefully towards the nurse’s station.

“Belden, is there an invisible wall there you’re trying to hold up?”

Brian reacted quickly.  Dr. Calvert’s perpetual scowl made him feel guilty.  Like the other fourth-years, he felt like he could do very little right in Dr. Calvert’s eyes.

“No, sir.  Are you ready to start rounds?” he asked the pediatric specialist in a polite and professional manner.

“The question of the day, Belden, is are you ready?”  Dr. Calvert walked purposefully towards the first room.  Brian quickly fell into step with the other med students who would accompany Dr. Calvert on the morning rounds.  He quickly pushed from his thoughts the interview at Children’s Hospital in Boston.  They have to call me, or email, or send a letter soon!  Their psychiatric program for kids is one of the best in the country, he reminded himself.   The elevator bell sounded again in the distance as more visitors arrived on the floor.

The dark-haired man’s face was strained as he slumped into the wooden kitchen chair.  He couldn’t stop a sigh of frustration as he realized there was no way he could change the situation. 

“Its bad news isn’t it?” the timid voice asked. The woman sat a fresh cup of coffee next to him.

He blinked as he looked up at the tawny-haired woman.  “Yeah, Mary.  It’s bad news.”

“How bad?” she asked, sliding into the chair next to his at the worn kitchen table.

“They’re letting me go,” he said quietly. 

“When?” she managed to choke out.

“Immediately.  They’re talking about suing me to make restitution.”

“You’ve got to be kidding!” Her mouth dropped in amazement at the audacity of her husband’s former employer.

“There’s good news.” He attempted a smile.  “We can buy insurance for eight hundred dollars a month.”

“But, Ken!” she protested in shock. “We don’t have $800!” A hand went to her swollen belly, and she glanced across the room at the four-year-old girl playing quietly in the corner.

His hand covered hers softly. “We’ll have to figure something out, Mare.”

 “But what about Mackenzie?” she whispered, holding back tears.  “We’ve been saving for her Christmas for over six months.”

He shook his head.  “She can’t miss what she’s never had,” he answered simply.  “Let it go, sweetie.  We’ll figure it out.”

“We could call --”

“No!” The answer burst out of him, loud enough that the dark-haired girl in the corner looked over at him, a question in her eyes.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, pushing a hand through his hair.  “We’re not calling anyone.  I can take care of my family.”

Before Mary could respond, the doorbell pealed and she sighed, standing to stretch before moving towards the door.  The baby wasn’t due for at least two more months.  She could only hope that her husband would find something to tide them over to pay for the insurance.  It’s not fair.  Her thoughts rambled.  He has such good ideas at the store.  The robbery wasn’t his fault.  I can’t believe the police think he had something to do with it.   Now the bosses don’t believe in him.  Can’t they see it’s killing him that they think he could do something like that?  She blinked in disbelief as she peered through the peephole.  Turning to her husband she stammered, “Ken, it’s the police.”

“Sleigh bells ring, are you listening?  In the lane, snow is glistening…” The soft alto quietly sang a favorite holiday tune as Helen Belden sifted through the mail that had arrived that day.  With most of her children away at college, she was counting the days until they would all arrive home for Christmas break.  She smiled as she recalled that all her chicks would be home to roost again for Christmas.  First Brian, then Mart.  Trixie’ll be last and it’s going to drive her crazy knowing the rest of the Bob-Whites are home and she’s not.

“Moms!” The eager voice of her youngest son interrupted her musings.

“I’m right here, Bobby.” Her tone held a tinge of reprimand.  “There’s no need to yell.”

“Sorry, Moms.”  Like the rest of her brood, Bobby was quick to apologize.  “Has the mail been delivered?  Did I get anything?”

Helen shook her head.  “No.  We have a Christmas card from Aunt Alicia.”

“No, I’m looking for a big envelope,” Bobby explained.

“Nothing like that.  Just a letter for Brian, a flyer and some greeting cards.  I’m sure your father wouldn’t mind if you wanted to take the telephone bill and pay it.”  Helen’s blue eyes twinkled.

“That’s okay, Moms,” Bobby replied hastily.  “I’m going over to Larry’s if that’s okay.”  He grabbed an apple out of the bowl on the kitchen table and bit into it.

“You’ll be home for dinner?” she asked, nodding in acknowledgement of his request. 

“What are we having?”  Bobby hedged.

“Evaluating your options?  I suppose you already know what the Lynches’ cook is preparing for supper, huh?”

Bobby grinned.  “You know she makes a mean lasagna, Moms.  But her lasagna will never compare to your burgers.”

“We’re having soup and roast beef sandwiches,” Moms answered.  “I guess that means lasagna for you.”

“Thanks, Moms.  You’re the greatest.”

“Be home by nine,” she reminded him.  “And make sure you’re invited.”

“Moms!  Nine is so early!” Bobby wailed.  “School’s out in a week, can’t I stay out until ten?”

“When school is out, we’ll consider a later curfew.  Nine or nothing, Robert.”

Bobby knew his mother well enough to know that ‘Robert’ meant he needed to leave and return to Crabapple Farm no later than nine o’clock.

“Nine it is,” he replied.  “See you, Moms.”

Helen smiled and watched as her youngest headed towards the Lynch mansion.  Bobby at fifteen was more like his brother Mart than he would ever realize.  An insatiable appetite and he’s growing like a weed.  Mart and Brian are going to be surprised to see how much he’s shot up this fall.

Helen walked upstairs to put Brian’s letter on the desk in the room he still used when he came home.  She imagined his excitement at seeing the letter from Boston when he arrived in Sleepyside the next day.

The bell sounded, signaling the end of class.  Honey sighed and walked to the front of the room, handing her exam to the professor.  She returned to her desk and absently reached for her backpack as she slowly packed her pencils and stood to leave. 

“Aren’t you forgetting something, Wheeler?” Greta gave her roommate a puzzled look.

“What?” Honey asked, frowning as she pulled the backpack on her shoulder.  “Advanced legal concepts is the last exam of the day.  Aren’t we going back to the dorm?”

“Sure, but aren’t you going to take your purse?”  Greta nodded toward the handsome leather bag hung on the back of her chair.

Honey groaned.  She had been so engrossed in the text message she had received earlier in the day from Trixie that she wasn’t paying attention.  Grabbing the bag, she slung it over her shoulder.

“What’s going on?  You haven’t been yourself lately, and it’s been worse since Thanksgiving.  Do you have senioritis already?”

Honey shook her head, and the smooth curtain of her hair swung neatly, before settling back into its usual perfect position.  “No, I’ve got law school on my mind.”

Greta’s eyes narrowed.  She doubted law school was all that was on the mind of her roommate of two-plus years.  “Still worried about Roger?”

Honey shook her head emphatically.  She had no regrets about her recent breakup with Roger Prescott.  But she was still questioning her decision to pursue law school.  Trixie would be getting valuable experience in law enforcement and investigating while she was still at school.  I just wish I knew it was the right decision.   She sighed and shot a guilty look at her friend.

“Does is sound silly to say that I want my family and friends to be proud of me?”

“Don’t be silly,” Greta chided. “They’re all proud of you.  You’ve made the grades to get into Harvard.  They’d be crazy not to accept you.”

“The website said some students hear as early as November,” Honey said biting her lip.  “It’s almost the middle of December now.”

Greta grinned.  “The website also says only a few students are accepted before January.  Quit worrying.  You’ll get notified soon.”

A sleek cell phone rang out with the tune of Jingle Bells, and the curly-haired blonde grabbed it and answered with a friendly hello.

“Trixie?”  The voice was tentative.

“It’s me,” she answered cheerfully.  “Am I first or last?”

“You’re first.  Hang on while I call Honey.”

Trixie drummed her fingers on the desk impatiently while Diana set up the three-way call between the friends.  It was the time of year for things to happen, but the email she had received had been most unusual –   even for a time of year when secrets were expected.

“Hi, Trix!” Honey’s voice came through the line.  “You doing okay?”

“Yeah, exams start tomorrow.  It’s not fair that I’m going to have three in one day,” Trixie complained.  “Then I’m going to be the last one home!”

“Because you’re the last one to leave for home,” Diana reminded.  “Quit complaining.  You start exams one day after the rest of us.  Besides, I’ll bet you a nickel that a certain red-head arrives in Virginia to give you a ride home.”

Trixie quickly changed the subject.  “Did you get my message?”

“Yes,” both of her friends sang out at the same time.  “What kind of message from Sleepyside could possibly be so mysterious this time of year?” Honey asked, curiosity overcoming her usual tact.

 “You’ll never guess in a million years,” Trixie answered eagerly.  “It’s the strangest thing.  I mean we all get emails, I get a ton just from the Bob-Whites.  Even Moms and Dad send emails and Bobby sometimes, but I never expected to get an email from him!”

“Who?” Diana demanded.  “Regan?”  The Wheeler’s groom was the least technologically inclined person she knew.

“No, Regan has email,” Honey answered automatically.  “He uses it to keep up with his horseman group.  It’s not Jim you’re talking about, is it?  I mean did he propose via email?”

“Honey!” Trixie answered in a horrified voice.  “No!  Jim would never do something like that!  It’s Mr. Lytell.”

“Mr. Lytell?” Diana asked in disbelief.  “He can’t possibly have email.”

“Well he does.  He has a case he wants us to investigate.  He says that an injustice is about to be wrought and we're needed to make sure that what is right prevails.”

“I assume you’re quoting?” Honey asked.  The words Trixie had used reeked of the old-fashioned man who ran the general store on Glen Road.

Trixie snorted.  “Of course, I’m quoting.  What do you think?  Should we help him out?”

“But what’s the mystery?” Di asked confused about exactly what Mr. Lytell was asking Trixie to do.  “Why didn’t you forward us the email?”

“He asked me not to forward it,” Trixie explained.  “He doesn’t want to put the details on something as ‘unsecured and monitored’ as the internet is,” Trixie continued wryly, “but he wants me to answer if we’ll help or not, and then to come and see him as soon as we're back in Sleepyside for the holidays.”

  Her two friends were quiet for a moment.  Trixie hesitated before she continued to explain.  “You see the thing is, he wants the Bob-Whites to help, not just me.  Since I’m going to be the last one home, I was hoping that Honey would go see him when she got home.  Di, you could go with her – find out what it is and start investigating.  Maybe you could even solve it before I got there.”

“What’s going on, Trixie?” Honey demanded.  “This doesn’t sound like you at all.  You sound like you want to pass up this mystery that we’ve just been handed.  Are you sure you can’t get home any earlier?”

Trixie flushed.  “No, I’m dying to know what it is.   Really, it’s just… I have to finish some things up here for a few days after exams.”  The two friends could tell Trixie was being deliberately vague.  “Besides… Honey, you know how Mr. Lytell is,” she wailed.  “It won’t matter how much I’ve learned in the past few years, he’ll still make me feel gawky and uncomfortable.  You can handle him.  Miss Trask still goes to watch wrestling with him.  He thinks you’re it!”

“But, Trixie!” Honey protested. “He emailed YOU!  Don’t you see, he has confidence in you.”

“Honey’s right, Trixie,” Diana interjected.  “You’d better email him back and ask him if your partner can get started since she’ll be back in town before you.  Besides, Honey is going to be one of the first to get home.”

Trixie was quiet as she pondered their words.  “We’ve all been dying to get embroiled in a new mystery, and this one has been hand-delivered to us, almost.  It’s too easy. It’s as easy as taking candy from a baby.”

“I promise you, Trix,” Di answered doubtfully, “it’s not always that easy to get candy from a baby.  Trust me, I know.”

Honey giggled.  “Come on, Di.  You sound like you don’t think we can handle Mr. Lytell.”

“Maybe,” Diana answered tentatively.  “But the other Bob-White he really likes is Brian.  What if the boys don’t agree with us?  They might not like the idea of us getting embroiled in something this…. drastic.”

“Drastic times call for drastic measures,” Trixie answered in a business-like tone.  “It’s more direct than anything we’ve done before, I’ll give you that much.  But think of how much better things could be with Mr. Lytell if we solve it.”

“It’ll be worth it,” Honey spoke with confidence.  “After all, it’s in Sleepyside this time.”

“Okay,” Diana finally agreed. “Besides, we know you can convince Jim to go along.”

Trixie quickly changed the subject.  “What’s up with you and Dean?” she asked, her voice light.  “Is he coming to Sleepyside for the holidays?”

 “Oh, heavens, I certainly hope not!”  Diana replied airily.  “Dean is so last week.  We broke up right after Thanksgiving.  He didn’t get me.”

“What do you mean, he didn’t get you?” Honey asked, curious.  The two girls had both brought their boyfriends home at Thanksgiving to meet their friends.

“Well, in my candied opinion…”

“CANDID!” Trixie and Honey chorused.

“Exactly.  Dean thought it was candied,” Di explained.  “That’s why he’s history.”

“Dean’s an idiot,” Trixie answered, unconsciously echoing the opinion of the fair-haired, good-looking young man that Dan and Mart had shared with her at Thanksgiving.

“What about Roger?  Is he coming home with you for Christmas, Honey?” Di asked, wondering if Honey had fared better with her latest conquest. 

 “Actually… I broke up with Roger,” Honey confessed.

“But why?” Trix was surprised that Honey hadn’t told her that news.  “I thought that you thought he might be the one.”

“I did,” Honey admitted.  “But after Thanksgiving…” her voice trailed off and she sighed.  “He didn’t understand the Bob-Whites, and I can’t understand why he couldn’t understand them, and well… it was perfectly understandable to me.  So there was this huge misunderstanding and um, he’s just didn’t try to understand what I told him.” Honey gave a big sigh.  “Do you two understand what I’m saying?”

Trixie pushed a hand through her curls.  She was pretty sure she did know what Honey was saying. 

“Why didn’t you give him a second chance?” Diana asked.  “I thought you really liked Roger?”

“I did, he just…” Honey shrugged. She didn’t want to admit to her friends that Roger’s patronizing attitude of the Bob-Whites – and especially of her plans to be a private detective had sealed his fate.  He had belittled that which was most important to her, and she had come to realize it would never work between them.  “Roger’s an idiot, just like Dean.”

“Okay, if you say so.  Back to the business at hand.  You will go see Mr. Lytell if he says its okay, won’t you?”

The school bell clamored, signaling the welcome relief of the end of the school day.  Bobby piled his books together haphazardly, excited as he realized he would soon have a break from the daily grind of classes and exams.  Hopefully, that would finally give them enough time to finish their project.

“Hey, Bobby!” Larry called as Bobby walked out of the classroom from his last period.  “Have you heard anything about the plans?”

He shook his head.  “Not a word.  I think we need to get back on the computer and look some more.  I know that he’s going to mail us what we need to get it done right, but if it doesn’t come soon, we’ll never get it done in time.

“Let’s give him a couple more days.  He sent me an email and said he mailed them to me.  You know there’s extra mail clogging up the system this time of year.”

“Okay,” Larry agreed.  “I still think we should have asked for help.”  Larry shot a look at his best friend.  “You know that Regan or Tom or even Jim would help us out if we asked.”

A familiar look of stubbornness crossed Bobby’s face, causing him to look more like his sister than usual.  “Just for once, I want to do it without their help.  Do you know what I mean?”

Larry nodded.  “Yeah, I do.  Come on, let’s stop by Wimpy’s and grab a shake, then I’ll give you a ride home.”

 “Moms?” The dark-haired young man said the name tentatively, looking around at the clean kitchen.  He was disappointed to find no evidence of supper preparations.

He had come in a day earlier than planned, but still hoped to be welcome by a home-cooked meal.  He walked to the table and noticed the stack of mail.  Sifting through it, he sighed.  I hoped there would be an envelope addressed to me. He moved to the calendar his mother kept on the wall, and sighed again as he realized she was at her garden club meeting. 

“I’ll bet that means a cold supper,” he muttered, glancing at the clock.  “Should have stopped and picked Bobby up from school.”  Brian decided to look through the cupboards and quickly found a stash of oatmeal cookies.  He practically chortled as he poured a glass of milk and sat down.

He had just pushed the last crumb of cookie into his mouth when the kitchen door slammed open.

“When did you get home?” Bobby demanded, dropping his backpack to the floor.  “Did Moms say you could eat the cookies?  Are there any left?”

“Not long ago,” Brian answered, deciding to tease his brother a bit.  “Moms wasn’t here for me to ask.  There are some crumbs in the bottom of the jar.” 

“Arrgghhh!” Bobby muttered as he pulled a chair up to the table, straddling it.  “Please tell me you didn’t eat the oatmeal.  She might let us live if they weren’t the oatmeal.”

Brian grinned.  “They were oatmeal.”  He stood and moved towards the cookie jar and pulled out another handful of cookies for himself.  He began eating as he poured his second glass of milk and sat down across from his brother.

Bobby stood and moved toward the cookie jar.  “I thought you said you ate them all.”  He managed to get a healthy handful and a glass of milk before he returned to the table.

“No,” Brian answered.  “I don’t believe I did say that.”

“Cruel,” Bobby muttered.  “She hasn’t let me have a cookie in days.  Said we had to save them for you and Mart.  You won’t let me take the blame, will you?”

Brian just smiled.

Bobby frowned and asked, “Is anyone else coming home today?”

Brian shook his head.  “I don’t think so.  Dan’s working the rest of the week.  Honey should be home already.  Di will be here tomorrow sometime and Mart, too.  Trixie’ll be home in a few days.  I have no idea when Jim’s coming home.

“He’s coming home with Trixie,” Bobby answered, draining the last drop of milk from his glass.  “He told Dad something about having to take care of some architect stuff down in Washington and he’d bring her home.”  He stood and moved to grab more cookies, this time going for a plastic-covered container of a different kind, that were stowed in the back of the cupboard.

Brian opened his mouth, but before he could ask Bobby what kind of cookies they were, he was interrupted by the ringing of the telephone.  Brian moved to answer it since Bobby had just crammed a chocolate chip cookie in his mouth

“Hi, Honey!  Brian smiled.  “I figured you were already here.  When did you get home?”

The room was quiet as Bobby ate and Brian listened.

“Are you sure?” Brian finally spoke.  “Just go over there and meet with him like that?”

The answer was clearly in the affirmative and Brian sighed.  “Okay, I’ll pick you up in about ten minutes.  Do you want me to bring Bobby?  That is, if I can tear him away from Moms’ cookie jar.”

Brian nodded and hung up the phone.

“What does Honey need?” Bobby asked.  “I have to get something done this afternoon.”

“She wants me to go with her to see Mr. Lytell,” Brian answered with a frown.  “He needs our help with some kind of project.”

 “She didn’t want me to go with you, did she?” He continued to eye the cookie jar, debating with himself how much Moms would carry on if he ate more cookies.

“Nope,” Brian replied, suddenly feeling quite jovial and festive.  He glanced back at his brother.  “You can stay here and explain to Moms about the cookies.  After all, she doesn’t even know that I’ve been home.”

He left a protesting Bobby with the cookie jar in front of him and the milk jug on the table.

“But Mr. Lytell, you can’t be serious!” Brian protested.  “This is a police matter.  You said yourself they’re investigating the case.  How are we going to find out anything to prove this guy is innocent?”

Mr. Lytell peered over his glasses at Brian Belden, studying him as if he were an unusual bug that had dared to light on his antique cash register.  “Young man, if I thought for five minutes that the police would figure this out, do you think I would have asked your sister to investigate?  A grave injustice is about to be rendered in this case.  People hire private investigators all the time when they don’t think the police have it right.  There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“But we aren’t licensed private investigators,” Honey reminded him with a tactful smile.  “Dealing with Sergeant Molinson’s bad enough, but can you imagine what the White Plains police detectives will do if they find we’re messing in their case?”

“Look, if that friend of yours, Spider Webster, if he were still over there in White Plains, things might be different.  But he’s not.  Even Molinson thinks the evidence is purely circumstantial.”   Mr. Lytell didn’t add that Molinson thought the guy was as guilty as hell.  “I guess you can tell your sister to just forget it.  For some reason, I thought this kind of thing was right up her alley.”

“Mr. Lytell.” Honey placed a hand on his arm.  “The Bob-Whites will be happy to look into this case.”

“We will?” Brian interrupted, his voice registering shock at what Honey had said.

“Yes, we will,” Honey shot him a firm look.  “But only on one condition.”

“What’s that?  You know I already stock strawberry pop year round.”

“Yes, and we appreciate it,” Honey replied giving him a winning smile.  “The condition is, you tell Brian and me why you think this guy is innocent.”

Frank Lytell stared at the hazel-eyed young woman, thinking how much she reminded him of someone else.  “I know a little bit about him,” he finally admitted.  “Enough to know that he would never do a thing like that.”

“You know the prime suspect?” Brian looked at Honey, expecting her to refuse the case for certain.

“Yes.  Last time I checked, it still wasn’t a crime to be acquainted with someone falsely accused of a criminal act!”  Frank Lytell glared at Brian, thinking he was much more like his harum-scarum younger sister than he had thought.

“I see.” Honey nodded.  “Of course, we’ll get started right away.  Is there anyone we can talk to while we wait for Trixie to get back into town?”

The gray-haired man handed her an index card.  “This has everything I know about him.”

“I can’t believe you’re actually considering doing this!” Brian exclaimed, as they returned to his car.  “You’ve seen Molinson.  Can you imagine what the White Plains police captain will do if he finds out we’re meddling?”

“You seem to be forgetting something,” Honey reminded him, wrapping her red and green scarf around her neck, subconsciously enjoying the faint tinkle of jingle bells that were on the sewn on the ends.  “We have an in.”

“Spider’s gone from White Plains,” Brian reminded her, frowning.

“I’m not talking about Spider,” she smiled.  “I’m talking about Dan.”

“You can’t be serious!” he protested.  “Dan's still at the police academy.  He’s not even close to completing the course to graduate.”

“Of course, I’m serious.  He’s been a cadet for over three months now.  He’ll have some contacts, someone who’ll take him seriously.”

Brian was quiet as he started the car, making sure Honey was comfortable before putting the jalopy into gear.  “Okay, say you’re right.  What do we do now?”

“Well, we either wait on Di and Mart to get here tomorrow or we go ahead and drive to White Plains and investigate.”  She glanced over at the handsome young man, next to her, wondering what he would answer.  In a way, for her, it was almost a test.

“Hmmmm.”  Brian nodded and was quiet for a moment as he digested their options.  He finally turned to look at Honey and grinned.  “Do you think we should call Dan and see if he’ll have time to meet us this afternoon?”

“You guys have to be kidding!” Dan protested, as the three friends sat in a coffee shop in White Plains and discussed the matter.  “I’m just a cadet at the academy.  I don’t have any kind of way to check the police files on this case.  Heck, I don’t even know if I’ll have a job when I graduate or not… if I graduate.”

“Don’t be ridic!” Honey said, with a smile and a toss of her sleek, honey-blonde bob.  “You must've met someone who’ll help us out:  an older detective, a retired desk sergeant, someone.”

Dan was quiet as he studied the young girl.  He noted how her shorter hairstyle suited her, giving her an air of sophistication and self-assuredness that hadn’t been there before.  Now, she was sitting across from him, hot on the trail of a mystery with none other than Brian Belden sitting beside her instead of her loyal sidekick, Trixie.  Things were definitely changing, he thought as he took a sip of his fragrant coffee and wished for a piece of the Manor house cook’s chocolate cake to eat with it.

“Okay,” he finally spoke.  There is one guy…”

“Oh!”  Honey clapped her hands and shot him an appreciative look.  “I just knew you’d be able to help us.   Can you call him right now?  Do you think he can meet with us tonight?  We won’t be getting you into any trouble, will we?”  For the first time, Dan noted a flicker of doubt cross her face.

“Nah… I’m just not sure he’ll be able to help tonight.  It’s getting late for the first shift and everything.  Let me give him a call at his desk phone.”  Dan pulled out a sleek, black cell phone and punched in a few numbers, before sitting back and waiting for someone to answer.  He frowned, after a moment, and then left a message on the police detective’s voice mail. 

“He’s not at his desk.  Do you have anything else you could do while we wait to see if he’s going to call back?”  Dan hoped Honey would suggest an early dinner and he had just the place in mind to recommend to her and Brian, when he realized she was suggesting more work on the case.

“How did you get their address?” Dan interrupted, picking up on her suggestion. 

“Like I told you, Mr. Lytell gave it to me,” Honey pulled the white index card from her Kate Spade bag and waved it in the air.  “Can you give us directions to this address?” she asked, handing him the card.

Dan took one glance at the card and grinned.  “Better yet, how about we just walk two blocks over to their apartment.”

“Mrs. Ruskin, are you sure you don’t know where your husband was when the robbery occurred?” Dan interjected in Honey’s gentle questioning of the accused’s wife.

It had been Honey who had persuaded the nervous young woman to open the door, and Honey had quickly put her at ease, admiring the tiny apartment and the sweet young child who played quietly in the corner.  Brian had tried to refuse the coffee she offered, but Honey had been astute enough to understand that accepting the hot beverage would make the woman more comfortable.  She had been right, but now Dan was getting anxious.

Mary nodded her head in response.  “Yes, I’m certain.  But I’m positive he didn’t have anything to do with the store robbery.  It’s just been for a few weeks now that Ken has been acting a bit oddly.  When I pushed him about it, he told me it was the wrong time of year to ask questions, and then he started humming Jingle Bells.” Mary blinked as she struggled to maintain her composure.  “I’m sure he was working a second job, you know…” She nodded towards her daughter. “The holiday and everything.”

“Of course,” Honey reassured her.  “It just seems strange he wouldn’t tell you where he was working.”

“That’s because I have a pretty good idea where it was,” Mary said with a half-smile.  “He was probably working down at the local Salvation Army.   They’ll hire people as bell ringers.”

“Why do you think that’s what he was doing?” Honey asked.

“Because I saw him one evening.”  Mary shot a look at her daughter, Mackenzie, before lowering her voice and continuing the story.  “He told me he had some things to do one evening, so I bundled Mackenzie up and we went to this special store across town to get Ken’s Christmas gift.  It’s not much, just something we knew he would enjoy.  I saw him, but he didn’t see me.  I steered Mackenzie in a different direction so he wouldn’t notice us and she wouldn’t disrupt him.  He seemed to be having a good time.” 

“Where is your husband now?” Brian asked. 

Mary’s eyes grew unusually bright. “He’s still being detained.  We don’t have the money for bail, and his lawyer thinks they’ll release him tomorrow anyway.  I’m afraid he’s going to get hurt.  The jail…you know the inmates, especially in this area, they don’t like people of Middle Eastern descent.”

“Your husband is from the Middle East?” Brian asked.  “I thought his name was Ken Ruskin.”

“Yes.  He Americanized his name.  His name was Al-Kimir Rustam.  But after he obtained his citizenship two years ago, we moved from the city to White Plains.  Ken decided it was best to become Allen Ken Ruskin.”  Mary gave them a pained look.  “It can be difficult being Persian in this day and time.”

Honey nodded.  “Why wouldn’t he tell you where he was working?  I mean, there’s nothing wrong with being a bell ringer.”

Mary’s eyes grew bright.  “It’s a long story.  Suffice it to say there’s been more wrong done in the name of religion than any other kind in the world.  We agreed long ago not to discuss religious beliefs.  Ken agrees that it’s okay for me to take MacKenzie to Mass and Sunday school, and he stays home.”

“Is he Muslim?’ Dan asked, curious about the religious difference.

“Not exactly.  His parents were, and raised him to be, but he actually attended a Lutheran school as a child.  It created problems, and…” She shrugged.  “He occasionally attends a non-denominational service at the Salvation Army. That’s why I wasn’t surprised for him to work there.”

“Does Ken have a close friend, anyone he might confide in?” Honey asked.

“No.”  She shook her head.  “I’m his best friend.”

“Ow!”  Bobby cried as he quickly stuck his thumb into his mouth and did an interesting dance around the dusty room.  “That hurts like hell.”

“You’re supposed to hammer the nail, not your thumb,” Larry pointed out as he moved to pick up the hammer that Bobby had dropped when he pounded his thumb.

“I understand the basic premise.” Bobby pulled his thumb out and swore again.  “My nail’s going to turn black.” 

“I’ll handle the rest,” Terry said, moving forward.  “Go grab some ice.”

“We gotta get this thing finished in the next couple of days,” Bobby protested.  “We can’t take a break now.”

“We aren’t taking a break.  Only one of us can hammer at this stage of the construction.  Go get the ice.”  Terry picked up a tiny brass-colored nail and quickly hammered it into the hard wood.  He glanced across at Larry and Bobby.  “When will the girls be finished with their part?”

“Anna said they were almost finished,” Larry answered as Bobby left to get some ice.  “Bobby wants this to be done by the time Jim gets home.”

Terry nodded.  “Shouldn’t be a problem.  Did the girls finally agree on the paint part of things?”

“Yeah, they’re going to do all the painting if we’ll help them make some of their pieces.”

“Fair enough,” Terry replied and inserted another tack.  “I sure wish we’d get those plans soon.  I don’t want to cut any without them.”

“Yeah, I think we need to email that guy again.”  He shot a guilty glance toward the door Bobby had just exited through.  “Bobby doesn’t want to bother him yet, since he’s really doing us a favor.”

Terry shrugged.  “We can give it another day or two.”

Dan pushed through the door of the diner, ignoring the annoying bell which notified the staff a customer had entered the establishment.  He immediately spotted his group and headed straight towards them.

“You’re late,” Mart admonished as Dan approached the table of Bob-Whites.  “I’m starving.”

Dan shook his head.  “You’re always hungry.  Besides I’m not late.  Less than five minutes isn’t late.”

Di groaned.  “Puh-leeze!  We don’t want to start this breakfast meeting with that argument of how to define late again, do we?”

Brian smiled and intervened. “Let’s order, and then Dan can tell us what the next step is.”

Dan’s contact at the White Plains Police Department hadn’t called him back the day before.  Brian and Honey had reluctantly gone back to Sleepyside and made plans to return to White Plains with Mart and Diana.  Dan had arranged the early breakfast meeting at a local diner.

The middle-aged waitress, whose name tag read "Carla",  efficiently took their orders.  Afterwards, they sat back, each holding a juice or coffee, and looked expectantly at Dan.

“You won’t like this,” Dan started.  “But Sarge says the guy is guilty.  He admits they don’t have any real proof, but the guy has no alibi.  He won’t give any accounting for where he was at the time.”

“Maybe he’s protecting someone,” Mart suggested. 

“I don’t think that would be it,” Honey answered doubtfully, shaking her head.  “His wife told us he didn’t have any close friends.  He wouldn’t be protecting his wife.”

“Will Sarge meet with us?” Brian asked.

Dan shook his head.  “Nawww.  Said there was nothing we could get from the file that wasn’t already public knowledge. We have the guy’s wife, and that’s all they really have.  No one at the store really incriminated him so much as they just couldn’t tell the officers where he was.”

The group looked at each other.  Di finally spoke.  “We have to do something.  What would Trixie do?”

“She’d follow a lead,” Mart answered promptly.  “The problem is we don’t have any.”

“Sure we do!” Honey said brightly.  “It’s easy enough to do.”

“What?” Brian asked.  He stared at the girl who had been his sister’s sidekick for so long, amazed at the confidence in her answer to Mart.

“We’ll check out the local Salvation Army.”  Honey beamed at her friends and then held up a hand and grinned at Mart.  “After we eat of course.”

“It’s huge,” Trixie murmured as she stared at the heavy copper bell.  She had the urge to touch it, but it towered at least twelve feet over her head.

“For a few years it was the largest swinging bell in the world.”  Jim answered, studying the monument to peace. “They only ring it on special occasions.”

“I can imagine,” Trixie whispered.  “Are they going to ring it today?”

“Yeah, they always ring it for weddings.  It’s kinda cool, actually.”  He smiled and squeezed her hand.  “Do you like it?”

Trixie nodded, squeezing back. “Yes, somehow or other it fits, doesn’t it?”

“I thought so,” Jim admitted. “Christmas is a hard time to plan a wedding, but I like the idea of the World Peace Bell ringing at the end.  Somehow it seems very fitting for this time of year.”

Trixie glanced at the stunning glass and steel pavilion that housed the bell.  The bridge leading to it was a dramatic spot for a wedding.  Today, with the varied hues of the different colored poinsettias, the setting seemed perfect.  She glanced up at Jim and smiled.  “Are you ready?”

He looked down and smiled back. “Yeah, let’s go get this wedding started.”

The harried young man was surrounded by brass-colored hand bells and bright red metal buckets.  It was clear he was responsible for organizing bell ringers. 

“Excuse me.” Honey spoke, giving what she hoped was an apologetic smile.  “Are you Cal Thomas?”

“You got ‘em,” the man said cheerfully.

“We were told you were responsible for organizing the bell ringers.” She was relieved they had found the man without too much hassle.

“Are you volunteers?” he asked the hope in his voice apparent to all of them.

“Not exactly,” Honey answered, with a fleeting thought that maybe they should volunteer for something this holiday season.  “We understand you hire a few paid bell ringers besides the volunteers.”

“Oh.”  The disappointment in his voice was clear.  “There are only a few paid openings left.  Have you submitted an application?  You do understand we only provide paying positions to those who can demonstrate a financial need?”  His glance at the well-dressed band of young people, with their warm coats, hats and gloves, suddenly made all of them a little uncomfortable.

“I’m not being clear,” Honey explained.  “We’re trying to help out a friend of ours.  Do you know if Ken Ruskin was scheduled for a bell-ringing shift on December 2^nd?”

“I’m sorry,” he said shaking his head.  “Who are you, and why are you asking about Ken?”

“We’re friends of his.  I’m Dan Mangan.  I’m a cadet at the White Plains Police Academy. ” Dan showed the man his credentials and introduced the others in the group.

The man nodded.  “It’s nice to meet you.  Now, what’s up with Ken?”

“We think you may be able to help provide Ken an alibi.”  Di spoke up, eager to learn what Cal might know.

“An alibi?  Why does Ken need an alibi?”

“A local store was robbed on the second of December,” Honey explained.  “Ken was the assistant manager.  The police think it was an inside job, and… well… the truth is, we’re trying to establish that Ken has an alibi at the day and time of the robbery.”

“Ken is one of our paid bell ringers,” Cal admitted.  “I can check the records and see if he worked that day.”

“We’d appreciate if you would,” Honey smiled.

“Come this way.”  Cal led the group over to a cluttered desk, where he picked up a tattered notebook and began thumbing.  “December second, December second,” he muttered as he flipped the pages.

“Here we are.”  His gloved finger ran down the page and he nodded.  “Yep, Ken worked six hours that day.  From three until nine.  It’s a tough shift, that one.  He was ringing at the White Plains Mall over on Hamilton Avenue.”

“The Mall?” Dan asked, looking over Cal’s shoulder and then shooting Honey a bleak look. “But that’s on the corner of Hamilton and Church.”

“Yep, that’s it.”  Cal shut the notebook and looked at them.  “Anything else?”

Honey glanced around the group.  She noted that they were all looking at Dan, who was shaking his head.  “I guess not.”  She held out her hand.  “Thank you, Mr. Thomas.  We appreciate your time.”

“No problem.  If you ever want to volunteer as a bell ringer, just let me know.  We love groups.”

“We’ll keep it in mind,” Brian replied for the group, as they headed back to the Bob-White station wagon.

When they reached their vehicle, Honey looked at Dan.  “What’s the matter?”

“It may be an alibi for Ken, but it’s not going to help him any.” Dan shook his head.  “It’s too close to the store where he works.  About four blocks down Church Street.  The police will just argue he took a walk from the mall and helped with the robbery and walked back.  No one would pay any attention to a Salvation Army bell ringer this time of year.”

It was a dismal group that trudged into the Crabapple Farm kitchen that night.  Brian and Mart were disappointed to find their parents absent and the house dark.  Within minutes, the men had plugged in the tree and turned on the outside lights, while the women heated water for cocoa and toasted bread for comforting cheese toast.  Mart popped a Christmas disc in the CD player, and the strains of Silver Bells soon filled the air.  The five Bob-Whites gathered in a familiar spot around the Crabapple Farm kitchen table to discuss the case at hand.  The opinions were as varied as they were.

“I dunno, Honey,” Dan staunchly defended the White Plains police force.  “The evidence points to an inside job.  Ken could've easily participated in the robbery.  He knew the security codes.”

“He’s not the only one who knew the codes,” Mart reminded his friend, picking up another piece of cheese toast.

“The manager has an alibi,” Di reminded him.  “He was working at the time of the robbery.  He was the one robbed.”

“Wait a minute,” Honey said, her hand slapping the table as she leaned forward in excitement.  “If the police think that Ken could have walked three blocks and entered the codes, what’s to prevent the store manager from walking to the back of the store and doing the same thing?”

“Probably a video camera,” Brian answered, shooting Dan a questioning look.

“Probably,” he affirmed.  “But if you want, I’ll check it out.”

“Why would the video camera be trained on the security code box?” Honey asked. 

“A store like that probably has a series of six cameras,” Dan explained.  “They would rotate their shots to cover 18 areas of the store and should be timed in such a way that the manager couldn’t enter the codes for the back door without being captured on camera.”

“But that doesn’t make any sense,” Di protested.  “Wouldn’t the cameras have captured Ken doing the same thing?”

The Bob-Whites were quiet as they tried to figure out a logical answer to Di’s question.

“Do the tapes show anyone putting in the security code that day?” Honey finally asked Dan.

“They show Ken punching in the code that morning, when he opened the store,” Dan replied.  “He was outside the back door.  His fingerprints are on the keypad.”

Mart frowned.  “But aren’t the store manager’s prints on there as well?”

“Yeah, but Sarge said they can tell that Ken’s were the last ones.”  Dan answered.

“It would be pretty gutsy to rob your own store while you were working,” Brian replied, sensing that Honey was trying to make a case against the store manager.

“It’s happened before,” Honey replied.  “No one knows the store’s operations as well as the manager.  There are all kinds of security protocols they follow, including which register will have the most money, how to rob a store right before the money is moved to the safe, and where things that have street value would be stored, like certain drugs.”

The other Bob-Whites looked at her in surprise.  “You know, you’re starting to scare me,” Mart spoke first as his eyes narrowed as he looked at Honey.

She flushed slightly and shook her head.  “Law cases.  Evidence can be ambiguous.”  She looked at Dan.  “They know Ken entered the code that morning to unlock the door.  Do they know if was alone?” 

“The store manager was standing right behind him,” Dan answered.

“So,” Honey spoke slowly.  “We know Ken entered the codes to turn off the security system to open the door that morning, right?”

Dan nodded along with the rest of them.

She looked at the group.  “Who turned it back on?”

“Huh?” Mart asked not following her question.

“Who was supposed to turn the security system back on?” she asked.

Dan’s jaw dropped.  “I don’t know,” he finally stammered.

“Wouldn’t the cameras have captured that too?”

“Sleigh bells ring, are you listening?” Trixie sang slightly off key as she looked out the window at the passing countryside.  The car radio was playing the familiar and beloved tune as she and Jim traveled back to Sleepyside. 

“Someone might think you were excited about Christmas,” Jim commented.

“I am!” Trixie replied, giving his hand a squeeze.  “We have so much to tell everyone!  Do you think they’ll be surprised?”

Jim shrugged.  “‘They’ meaning the Bob-Whites?”

“Who did you think it meant?” Trixie asked,  her tone tinged with a hint of suspicion.

“Our families for one,” he answered.

“Bob-Whites, family, it’s all the same to me.” She waved her hand airily as she spoke. “I don’t think they’ll have a clue what we’ve been up to the last couple of days, do you?”

“Di and Dan aren’t our family,” Jim hedged.

Trixie studied his face for a moment before speaking.  “Jim Frayne, who did you tell?” she finally demanded.

“What makes you think I told someone?” he answered, not looking at her, but acting as if the almost traffic-free road was suddenly the most important thing in the world.

“You!  You make me think that. Why, I know you better than anyone.  Who did you tell?”

“I might have mentioned it to your Dad when I was home two weekends ago,” Jim finally answered.  “I thought he needed to know where we were, you know, in case of an emergency.”

“Cell phones don’t work in case of an emergency?” she inquired sweetly, taunting him with the gentle wave of her own phone.

“Awww, come on, Trix.  I just thought someone needed to know.”  Jim’s voice pleaded for her understanding.

“Okay, I understand,” she smiled.  “Besides, it’s still Christmas and after all—” she broke into song again.  “In the meadow we can build a snowman.  Then pretend that he is Parson Brown, he’ll say are you married we’ll say…” she dissolved in a fit of giggles as Jim managed to poke her.

“Moms, did you put this letter on my desk?” Brian asked his mother the next morning.  “Yes, son.  It came just a day or two before you arrived home.  I thought I might as well save it instead of forwarding it to you.  You didn’t miss an important appointment did you?”

The oven timer dinged, and Helen Belden moved to remove a tray of cookies from the oven.

“No, I just don’t think it’s my mail,” Brian explained.  “It must be Trixie’s.”  His tone was puzzled.  “She does have Beatrix on all her school paperwork, right?”

“Yes, of course she does,” Helen replied as she expertly moved the hot cookies from the tray onto the cooling racks she had lined along the counter.  “The school requires her to use her legal name.”

“I guess I’ll just put it in her room then,” Brian said moving towards the stairs.

“She should be home late this afternoon,” Helen called after her son. “Will the rest of you be here for supper tonight?”

“We should be,” he turned back around, staring at the envelope in puzzlement.  “The Bob-Whites are going to ride horses and then eat lunch at Manor House,” he called back.  “Do you need Mart and me to do anything?”

“Go ahead.  If you’ll check with me before lunch, I’ll let you know.”

“Thanks, Moms.”  Brian looked at the envelope and then at the door.  He decided he would have plenty of time later to put the envelope in Trixie’s room, and he moved to pull his jacket on, carefully stowing the letter in his pocket.

Brian was anxious to get to the stables. He wondered what the other Bob-Whites would make of the envelope he had inadvertently opened.  A wave of guilt flashed over him as he realized he probably shouldn’t discuss it with them.

“Dan’s going to be calling any minute!” Honey said eagerly, grabbing Brian’s arm and pulling him into the Manor House. 

Brian glanced down, pleased with the sensation of Honey’s hand on his arm.  “Is Di here already?” he asked.

“Yes, Di spent the night,” Honey acknowledged.  “Hurry, we don’t want to miss his call and the phone in Daddy’s study has a speaker on it.”

“You’re pretty excited about this case, aren’t you?” Mart asked, as he followed Honey and Brian to Mr. Wheeler’s study.

“Maybe,” Honey answered.  “It’s been fun.  It’s the first time I’ve really used some of the things from my classes in a case.  I was worried that law wouldn’t be a good fit for the Belden-Wheeler Detective Agency, but I was wrong.”

“You and Trixie are still planning on your own detective business?” Brian asked in astonishment.  “I mean, you’ve been going to school for almost four years, you’re still sure?”

“Of course, we’re sure,” Honey answered, looking at Brian in surprise.  “You’re still planning to be a doctor, aren’t you?”

“Yes, but I’m in med school,” Brian explained.

Mart snorted.  “Why would you think that Honey changed her mind?”

Di looked over at Brian with interest as well.  “Yeah, Brian.  Why would you think Honey and Trixie had changed their minds?”

“Uh, well…” he stammered unsure how to proceed.  “Just something I thought I heard at Thanksgiving.”

“You heard me say something about that at Thanksgiving?” Honey asked, her nose wrinkling as she recalled the stressful three days she’d spent in Sleepyside over Thanksgiving.

“Not exactly,” he answered.

“What did you hear?” Di asked, moving closer.  Her eyes narrowed as she remembered a conversation at Thanksgiving, and she wondered if Brian had inadvertently heard it.

 “I’m sorry, Honey, I didn’t mean to eavesdrop on your boyfriend,” Brian’s face was red.

“My boyfriend?” she squeaked.

The ringing phone interrupted the conversation, and Honey pointed a finger at Brian.  “We’ll finish this conversation later!” she told him as Di reached for the phone.

“Wheeler residence,” she said in a well-modulated tone.

“Hi, Dan!” her normal voice continued the conversation.  “Yes, we’re all here.  I’ll put you on the speaker.”  Di punched the appropriate button as the rest of the Bob-Whites huddled close to the handset.

“Can you hear us okay?” Honey asked, noting the green speaker light.

“Yeah, I can hear you fine.”

“Were you able to talk to the detective again?” Mart asked.

“Yes.  Honey, I don’t know how you and Trixie do it, but you were right.  The tapes showed the store manager turning to activate the security code, but he never did.  Apparently it has a memory program in the unit and it was never turned back on.  The camera shows the manager standing in front of the alarm and pretending to punch the buttons.  He would have gotten away with it except for that memory feature.”

“You mean it’s not Ken?” Brian asked.

“Nope.  He’s been cleared of the charges, and they’ve arrested the store manager.”

Honey jumped up from her seat and did a little dance of joy.  “Let’s go ride over to Mr. Lytell’s store and tell him the good news.”  She turned back to the phone.  “When are you coming back to Sleepyside for the holidays?” she asked Dan.

“The last class for cadets is this afternoon,” he answered.  “I guess you’ve got this one solved before Trixie ever got home.”

“Mostly solved,” she said, a frown creasing her forehead.

“What do you mean?” Di asked.  “You figured it out.”

“But we don’t know why Mr. Lytell wanted this man cleared,” Honey explained.  “He wouldn’t tell us; just that he knew Ken Ruskin was innocent.”

“Maybe he’ll tell us when we give him the news,” Brian suggested.  “See you tonight, Dan.” 

The four Bob-Whites headed towards the stable, excited about riding horses and giving Frank Lytell the good news. It was Regan who hinted at another small mystery.

“You kids give the small fry permission to use your clubhouse?” Regan asked as the quartet saddled horses. Di was riding Lady, since her sisters kept Sunny well exercised these days.

“Yes, Trixie and Jim did.”  Di frowned.  “Has anyone checked on the clubhouse since we’ve been home?”

“Not yet,” Honey admitted.  “Trixie and Jim usually check on it first thing.”

Mart snorted.  “Trixie and Jim just want to suck face without being interrupted.”

“Maybe,” Honey acknowledged.  “But they managed to sweep and dust the clubhouse while they’re there.”

“Point taken,” Brian answered, mounting Jupiter.  “We’ll check on the clubhouse later.  Let’s ride.”

“You’d think the old fart would’ve been more appreciative,” Mart grumbled as they dismounted their steeds and moved inside the stable to groom the horses and clean the tack.

“Mart!” Di admonished.  “Just because we couldn’t find out why he wanted Mr. Ruskin cleared, you shouldn’t talk about him that way.”

“Well, he seemed surprised that Honey had solved the case,” Mart continued his rant.  “We all know Honey is just as good a detective as Trixie is.”

“What did you say?”  Honey asked stopping and staring at Mart.

“You, you’re just as good a detective as Trixie,” Mart mumbled, turning red at the attention.  “Ask, Brian.  He thinks so, too.”

“You do?” Honey turned to look at Brian.

“Of course,” he answered simply. “We’ve always known that.  At least for a long time we have,” he quickly amended.  “Di thinks so too, don’t you, Di?”

“Yes, but I didn’t know you did,” she said honestly. 

“I could kiss you both!”  Honey clapped her hands in delight.  “I…  I… had no idea.  Maybe if I had—” she stopped and flushed.  She turned to pick up the reins for Susie and moved to begin brushing the black mare.

Brian started to say something and then frowned as his cell phone rang.  “Excuse me, it's Moms.”

He stepped outside to take the call while the other three continued with the grooming chores.  In a moment, Brian returned, frowning.  “Moms needs some help.  As soon as we finish here, we need to head home.”

 “You guys can go ahead.  Di and I can groom your horses,” Honey offered.

Brian frowned.  “Even Jupiter?”

“Sure, he loves to be groomed,” Honey reminded him.

“I’ll stay if you like, Bro,” Mart offered.  “I can probably do both our horses faster than those two girls can do one.”

“You’re on!” Di challenged.  “Regan can inspect and declare the winner.”

Brian chuckled and turned to leave.  “Call me when you’re finished.  I’ll let you know if Moms still needs help.”

“Are we going to stop by the clubhouse?” Trixie asked as the neared Sleepyside, much earlier than expected.  Jim had been right that the early morning departure would save considerable time on the drive home.

“Sure, it’s almost a tradition.”  Jim smiled as he turned onto Glen Road.

Trixie reached for her hat and gloves as they neared the clubhouse.  She frowned as she noticed lights were on inside.  “It looks like the rest of the gang is already there.”  Somehow, she was vaguely disappointed.  She had become used to tidying the clubhouse with Jim when they returned to Sleepyside.  It had provided them a last few minutes of time alone before they became part of the group again.

“You still want to stop, right?” he asked looking across at her.

“Of course,” she answered with a grin.  “We won’t have to clean!”

They were both surprised a few minutes later when they pushed open the door to call out their greetings to their friends and family, when five different faces met their gaze.

“Bobby!” Trixie exclaimed.  “What are you doing here?”

Her brother glanced around the room at the two sets of Lynch twins, and back to Jim and Trixie.  “We’ve been working on this.”  His head nodded towards a large wooden structure on the table in front of them.  Bits and pieces of tiny furniture and cloth were scattered around it.

“A dollhouse?” Jim asked, moving closer.

“Yeah, we were trying to make one to give to someone this Christmas,” Larry answered, disgust in his voice.

“What’s the problem?” Jim asked, walking around the table as Trixie picked up a tiny sofa.

“We don’t know how to make it open and close,” Bobby answered. 

“We were supposed to get some house plans in the mail, but they never showed up,” Terry Lynch offered.

“Yeah, and we have all this furniture and stuff, and no way to get it inside the house!” Anna Lynch was frustrated as well.

“We did all of our part!” Alice glared at the three boys.

“Stick a sock in it, Alice,” Terry muttered.

“Why didn’t you build it in two pieces and just hinge this end?” Jim asked, confused about why the boys had built the doll house in one big piece.  “Or I guess you could have left a side off of it.”

“We saw this way on the Internet,” Larry explained.  “It said there was a new way to make it one piece that was faster and easier because you didn’t have to make the two sides match.”

“We’re supposed to cut it down the middle and then somehow hinge it,” Bobby said. 

Jim nodded slowly.  “I get it, but that sounds harder to me.”

“Yeah, but you know woodworking,” Bobby offered.  “We don’t.” 

“The guy promised this was the easiest way,” Terry said.  “If he had sent the plans like he said, then we wouldn’t be in this fix.”

“Why didn’t he email you the plans?”  Trixie asked.  “Or why aren’t they posted on the Internet?”

“Normally you have to pay $50 for the plans on how to make it hinge, but when we explained it was for charity and what we were doing, he offered to send them free.”

“Don’t worry, guys,” Jim spoke up.  “We can figure it out from this.  It’s a good looking house.  You’ll probably need to touch up the paint after we cut it.”

“You’ll help us?” Bobby’s relief was clear in his voice.

“Sure.  Let’s all go see what’s going on with the rest of the Bob-Whites, and I’ll meet you back here, say, after dinner tonight or tomorrow morning?”

The younger kids nodded, seemingly relieved for their project to be back on track. 

“Say, you won’t tell the rest of them, will you, Trix?” Bobby asked.

“Not if you don’t want us to, we won’t,” she assured him.  “Why the big secret?”

Bobby flushed.  “When you guys did projects to help other people, you didn’t talk about them.  We want to be the same way.”

Trixie stared, realizing that maybe the Bob-Whites had done more good than she had ever thought.

“Understood.”

Jim turned and moved to the window.  “It looks like a Bob-White invasion is on the way,” he announced before looking back at Bobby.  “Do you want us to head them off or let them come on?”

“Head them off!” Bobby answered.

“We’re home!” Trixie chortled as she and Jim finally pushed through the doors of Crabapple Farm.  They had spent more time talking to Honey, Di and Mart than they planned.  The trio had given them the highlights of the case and promised a detailed story later that evening when Dan arrived.  Trixie was anxious to see Brian and her parents, and they had left the other three at Manor House with promises to call and hook up again later.

“Trixie!” Brian looked up in surprise.  He moved to give his sister a hug and to shake Jim’s hand.  “You’re earlier than even Moms was expecting.”

“Yeah, Jim made me get up at some unholy hour of o-dark-thirty,” she teased, tossing her curls.

Jim chuckled and reached to tug the wayward curl that had drifted to the center of her forehead.  “It wasn’t that bad.  We just got lucky with traffic.”

“We’ve already seen the rest of the group,” Trixie said.  “We’re to call if help is needed.”

“No, Moms didn’t want to leave with her ham in the oven,” Brian explained.  “It makes her nervous, and she couldn’t find Bobby.  I’ve just been sitting around, did a few things, but I saved the dusting for you.”  He smiled and then remembered the envelope in his pocket and a guilty look flashed across his face.

Trixie noticed and grinned.  “Its okay, Brian.  I don’t expect you to dust for me.”

“It’s not that, Trix.  It’s just that Moms left this letter for me and I opened it and looked at it before I realized it had to be yours.”  Brian reached in his pocket and handed Trixie the folded envelope. 

She took it with a frown and glanced at the address.  She hesitated and pulled out the papers inside.  She skimmed through two pages before she looked up and grinned at Jim.

“Jim!  You won’t believe it.  These are the house plans!  They’ve been here all along.”

“You’re kidding!”  He moved and looked down at the papers, studying them carefully.  Taking the first page, he nodded as he absorbed the plans.  He gave a low whistle.  “It’s no wonder he charges what he does for these plans.  He has quite an innovative thing going with this design.”

Brian bit his lip.  His suspicions had been correct.  “So, it’s like none of my business, but are you two going to get married before you build a house together?”

“What?” Trixie asked as she looked up at him.

“The house plans,” he answered, nodding towards the papers Jim was holding.  “I figured they must be plans for you and Jim to build a house.  Are you going to get married before you move in together?”

Trixie burst out laughing.  She couldn’t stop, even when she saw Brian begin to lose his temper.  Finally, she motioned for Jim to explain to Brian, handing him the envelope.  He took one look at the address and immediately understood what had happened.

“Brian, these aren’t our house plans.  This envelope belongs to Bobby.”

“Bobby!” Brian exclaimed.  “Why on earth would Bobby have house plans for a mansion like that?”

“For one thing, you’ll notice this three story mansion has only one bathroom,” Jim started.  “These are plans for a doll house.  Bobby needed them for a, uh, for a school project they were doing in shop.”  Jim fudged the truth to protect Bobby’s secret.

“You’re not building a house?” Brian asked, as the truth dawned on him.

“Not anytime soon,” Jim assured him.  “And you can trust me, your sister and I would not live together without benefit of wedlock.”

Brian flushed.  “I didn’t mean to imply –“

“How in the world did you get that Jim and I were building a house?” Trixie finally managed to speak.  “I mean, good grief, I haven’t even finished school, and Jim’s still working on his doctorate.”

Brian fidgeted before giving a big sigh and answering.  “If you want to know the truth, I thought the two of you had eloped.  Moms and Dad let something slip about a meeting with an architect and then acted all mysterious.”

It was enough to set Trixie off into a spasm of giggles again.  Jim once more had to set the record straight.

“Trixie’s roommate did elope,” Jim explained.  “Krishna, the Indian girl who rooms with her got married.  Trixie and I, helped them set it all up.  They got married in Newport, Kentucky, right outside Cincinnati.  There’s a great wedding spot there with a huge international peace bell that they rang after the service.”

“Why there?  Why did they elope?” Brian asked.

Trixie answered.  “Harry’s parents haven’t been very accepting of Krishna, because of her Hindu faith.  They wanted some place that was neutral but also had a theme of tolerance.  It really is a beautiful place.”

Further conversation was prevented by the arrival of Helen Belden.  Jim and Brian quickly moved to help her with the groceries as she greeted her daughter.  “What on earth did you buy?” Trixie asked a few minutes later as she helped her mother unpack.

“Just a few things.  I’m not used to feeding a horde,” she teased.  “All the Bob-Whites will be together tonight for dinner!”

“Gleeps, Moms!” Trixie chortled, giving her mother another hug.  “There really is no place like home!”

Hours later, the group of Bob-Whites were lounging around the Crabapple Farm den.  Trixie and Jim had related their tale of wedding adventure including a lost heirloom wedding veil and an irate mother-in-law.

Honey and Dan had taken the lead on the telling of the Mystery of Lytell’s store.  In the background, wrestling matches were on, and occasionally one of the Bob-Whites would make a remark as the bell sounded the end of a round.

“It might seem strange, but what happened to your friend Krishna sounds a lot like what happened with Ken Ruskin,” Brian commented.  “Did they tell you that Mr. Lytell gave us all a huge lecture on ethnic tolerance?”

“Does that surprise you?” Trixie asked.

“Not after finding out that Ken is Persian,” Mart acknowledged.  “The crusty old fart never did explain why he wanted us to prove Ken was innocent.”

“You mean you don’t know?” Trixie sat up, surprised at last by the turn of events.

“You know why?” Honey asked eagerly.  “He told you?”

Trixie snorted.  “Of course not!  He’d never share something like that with me.  I figured it out on my own.”

“Figured what out?” Dan asked interested to learn what Trixie had uncovered.

“The relationship between Ken Ruskin and Frank Lytell,” Trixie explained.  “Did you Google the two names?”

“No!” the rest of the Bob-Whites chorused.

“Ken’s wife, Mary is Mr. Lytell’s great-niece.  Her father’s mother is his only sister.”

“I didn’t know Mr. Lytell had a sister,” Brian protested, shooting a look at his parents.

“Mary Lytell got married and moved to the city.  It was a few years later we learned she had died in childbirth,” Helen explained.  “There was a son, but I don’t know what became of him.”

“He died about three years ago,” Trixie picked up the tale.  “But he was estranged from his only daughter because she had married a man he didn’t approve of.”

“You found all this from Googling them?” Peter Belden leaned forward, fascinated with what his daughter had learned.

“I got lucky,” Trixie admitted. “A year or so ago, Mary Ruskin posted on a genealogy board, seeking information of the Lytell family in Westchester County.  When I Googled the two names,” she finished with a shrug, “it wasn’t hard to put two and two together.”

“Trixie, you amaze me,” Di said, her eyes wide as she listened to the story.  “This would make a wonderful screen play, don’t you think?”

The rest of the group laughed, except Mart, who looked at Di seriously.  “Don’t listen to them, Di.  The best stories in the world come from what happens in real life.  People can’t make up stuff as good as this.”

“I just wish we could do a little more for the Ruskins,” Honey said.  “Even though he’s been cleared, I don’t think Ken Ruskin wants to go back and work for the store that fired him. They’re going to be in a real bind financially.”

“I wonder why Mr. Lytell doesn’t have Ken come work for him,” Brian mused, staring at Honey.  “His wife would love Sleepyside.  She hated the city and she doesn’t think White Plains is much better.”

“Why doesn’t she like living in the city?” Dan asked.  He had to admit he had enjoyed his months in White Plains.

“She thinks a smaller town is better for raising her daughter,” Honey explained.  “She told me she wants her kids to grow up where there are trees to climb.”

“How old is her daughter?” Jim asked.

“She looked to be about four,” Di answered.  “She’s not in school yet, so that has to be close.”

“Four, huh?”  Jim said thinking.

“Yeah, why is that important?” Mart looked at him curiously.

“It’s not important,” Jim answered and then shot Trixie a covert look.  “I hate to be the first one to call it a night, but I promised to help out with a special project first thing in the morning, so I’d better get home.”

Goodbyes and thanks took some time and it was some twenty minutes later before Trixie and Jim were on the porch stealing goodnight kisses. 

“You’re thinking the Ruskin girl might need a dollhouse, aren’t you?” Trixie asked.

“Yeah.  What do you think?”

“Go for it, but make sure they don’t already have someone in mind.” 

“I will,” Jim promised.

>

The Bob-Whites were scattered the next morning when Trixie decided to let Honey in on her idea.

“I don’t know, do you really think it'll work?” Honey said doubtfully. 

“If Miss Trask can’t make him think it was all his idea, who can?” Trixie insisted.  “Will it hurt anything to ask her?”

“I guess not,” Honey admitted.  “As long as you’re okay if she says no.

A few minutes later Miss Trask listened, her blue eyes twinkling as Trixie poured out her plan. 

“You put a lot of store in Frank Lytell’s feelings for me, Trixie,” Margery Trask finally remarked. 

“Yes, but he thinks you hung the moon,” Trixie answered.

“And most of the stars,” Honey added.  “Please Miss Trask!” Her voice was almost pleading. “Don’t you think it’s worth a shot?”

“Why does this mean so much to you?”  Miss Trask stared at Trixie.  “It’s a step further than you would normally push one of your cases, isn’t it?”

Trixie nodded.  “It’s what he said in his original email to me,” she admitted.  “That justice should prevail.”

“Is it really justice you’re seeking?” Margery Trask asked.  “It seems to me, you and Honey have already seen justice served.”

 “Ken Ruskin doesn’t have a job. They don’t have any family to speak of.  Mr. Lytell doesn’t either.  Don’t you think Christmas is the perfect time for a family to make peace and join together?  After all, how can we have peace on earth when we can’t even have peace in our own families?” Trixie blushed, but her speech had come from the heart.

“Okay,” Miss Trask answered after a moment of consideration.  ‘I’ll do it.”

“It’s perfect!” Anna Lynch clasped her hands in front of her as her twin sister Alice placed the last chair into the house.  “I can’t believe we did it!”

“You kids did a good job,” Jim admitted.  He had to provide very little guidance to the boys after delivering to Bobby the house plans and explaining how they had gone astray.  He also told him the explanation he had given Brian.

“So do we deliver it to the Salvation Army toy center now?” Larry Lynch asked.

“You don’t have a family already in mind?” Jim asked with a deceptive casualness.

“No, we just wanted to give something extra special,” Terry Lynch explained.  “But it had to involve our time, we couldn’t just give money.”

“Do you know someone who needs a dollhouse?” Alice Lynch asked.  Jim’s question had aroused her curiosity.

“I might,” Jim answered.  “Would you consider it, if it all checks out?”

“Sure,” Bobby answered, surveying the group briefly and seeing them nod their heads before he answered.  “Just let us know.  We have a friend at school who volunteered to play Santa if you need it delivered on Christmas Eve or something like that.”

Jim pondered that approach and then shrugged.  He wasn’t sure how it should play out.  “Is it okay if I let you know by this time tomorrow?”

“Margery!” Frank Lytell exclaimed as he opened the door to his friend.  “I wasn’t expecting you tonight.”

“I hope it's okay that I dropped by,” Miss Trask explained.  “I wanted to deliver you a Christmas gift.  Also, I had something to show you.”

“Of course, it’s okay,” he answered, ushering her into his living room.  “You could've brought my gift on Friday.”

“I know, but I was on the Internet today and I found something you might want to see,” she explained, unwrapping her scarf.

“Sit down, sit down,” he fussed as he took her coat and scarf.  A few minutes later they were happily ensconced on his sofa, hot tea in front of them.  “Now tell me, what’s this about the Internet?”

Margery reached into her pocketbook and pulled out a folded piece of paper.  “I printed it so that I could show it to you,” she explained, handing him the paper.  “Frank, I’m almost certain it’s part of your family.”

“My family?” he said weakly as he unfolded the sheet.  He read for a few minutes, his lips pursed.  Finally, he peered over his glasses and gave her a piercing look.  ‘You found this on the Internet?”

“Yes, you can see it’s from a genealogy website.”  She leaned across and pointed to the web address at the bottom of the page.

“Were you checking me out?” he asked.

“No,” she answered truthfully. After all, Trixie had been the one who checked him out.

“Margery, I don’t talk about my family much,” he started slowly.  “But I’m familiar with Mary Ruskin.  I have a feeling you are, too.” He held up a hand as she started to protest.  “No, let me finish.  I’m an old man, Margery.  I know you don’t think so, but I am.  I’m set in my ways, and I don’t like change.  There’s no way I could ask her to come here.”

“Oh, Frank!” Margery clasped his hands in hers.  “You’re wrong!  You couldn’t be more wrong.  You’ve got a chance few of us ever get.  A chance to make things right!  Don’t let the bad guys win, Frank.  This is ever so much more important than a wrestling match.”

Frank was quiet and finally nodded.  “All I can promise you, Margery, is to think about it.” 

“Thank you, Frank,” she answered as she stood to go.

“And you’ll tell that Belden girl and her partner not to bother me about it?”

Miss Trask smiled.  “Yes, I’ll tell them.”

“I love the Christmas Eve service.”  Honey smiled as she picked up a bright red scarf .  “It’s my most favorite church service.”

“Is it the carols?” Brian asked helping her with her coat.  His hands lingered just a moment longer than necessary.  He smiled as he remembered their conversation about Honey’s ex-boyfriend.  Thank goodness, Roger’s an idiot, he thought with a smile.  I just have to get that interview in Boston.  I know Honey will get accepted at Harvard.

“Nope, but I love the carols.”

“It must be the poinsettias,” Dan said, opening the door as she wound the scarf around her neck.

“Nope, but I do love the poinsettias.”

“Then it’s the bells,” Jim suggested, looking back over his shoulders.

“Yes, I love the bells.  They sound more joyous at Christmas than any other time.  By the way, Jim, where have you been all day?”  Honey asked.  “I was beginning to wonder if you were going to make it back in time.”

“I had an errand to run,” he said truthfully.  “It took more time than I expected.”  It was true, even though he was only the driver; he had taken Bobby and the four Lynch twins to deliver a dollhouse.

“We’re glad you made it then,” Brian said, offering an arm to Honey.  “Let’s go, shall we?”

The Belden, Wheeler and Lynch families sat in close proximity towards the front of the stone Lutheran church, in the heart of downtown Sleepyside.  The Christmas Eve service and homily were perfectly perfect, as Honey later exclaimed.  It wasn’t until they left that they discovered the best end of all.

“Hello, Helen.  Peter.”  Frank Lytell stood at the back of the church, greeting his neighbors.  “I don’t believe you’ve met my great-niece, Mary Ruskin.  This is her husband Ken and their daughter, Mackenzie.  They’re going to be moving to Sleepyside at the first of the year.  Ken’s going to work with me in the store.  You know I’m not as young as I used to be.”  He actually smiled as he said the words.

“How very nice to meet you.” Helen shook hands with Mary.  “When is your baby due?”

“Mid-February,” Mary admitted. “That’s why we're anxious to get moved.  Uncle Frank has found us the most perfect house on Old-Telegraph Road to rent.”  Mary’s eyes glowed.  “Do you know that there was actually a counterfeiter’s ring that operated out of it at one time?”

Peter Belden choked back a laugh, as Helen discreetly elbowed his ribs.  “You’ll be surprised, Mary, just how lively our little town can be.”

Further conversation was interuppted as the bells in the tower began to ring.  Trixie and Jim exchanged looks and squeezed each other's hands.  Honey smiled in delight and looked up at the bell tower.  Brian gazed at Honey, wondering why she seemed different now.  He finally decided it was her confidence; the added self-assurance gave her a special glow.  Mart, Di and Dan enjoyed the sound the pealing bells were making, smiling with delight at the family they had helped to reunited.  They all agreed that the bells were joyous, pounding out notes that seemed to echo the words of the song.

Then pealed the bells more loud and deep;
God is not dead, nor doth He sleep;
The Wrong shall fail,
The Right prevail,
With peace on earth, good-will to men!