The Mystery on Cobbett's Island (22 page)

At Abe's request, Trixie repeated the story of Slim and the search for the money. She spoke slowly and thoughtfully to be sure she got the details right. Her deposition was taken on a tape recorder, and after listening to the playback, Trixie signed an affidavit that to the best of her knowledge it was a true statement.

“I'm glad
that's
over,” she sighed. “I hope nothing I said will make it hard on Slim.”

“He isn't such a bad kid,” Abe remarked as he turned off the machine. “I've had quite a long talk with
him, and I think he was scared to death and just trying to put on a big front.”

“We all ended up being sorry for him,” Trixie said, “especially when we knew what bad breaks he's had.”

“Well, I've talked to the Greenpoint police, and the Coast Guard, and just a little while ago, I got in touch with the authorities in New Jersey where his mother lived,” Abe continued. “This is the first time he's been in any kind of trouble, so the chances are ten to one he'll be sent to a training school or to a foster home where he'll have some real family life.”

“That would be great,” Mart said. “If only someone would accentuate the positive, Slim would be okay. He apparently knows a lot about boats and motors, and he said himself, he was a good shot with a gun which isn't a bad skill if you use it right.”

“Do you know what he said when I asked him what he'd like to be?” Abe asked them.

“A cop, maybe, or a fireman?” Trixie suggested. “That's what seems to fascinate most boys when they first start thinking about a career.”

“No, you're way off,” Abe said. “He wants to be a ferry pilot, and, you know, I bet he'd make a good one.”

On the way back to The Moorings, Peter offered to take his family's station wagon the next day, since Tom would probably be packing the Wheelers' cars for the return trip.

“Don't forget to bring the tin box with you,” warned Trixie as they were separating for the night. “I think I'll take the letter and the chart, too,” she added, “so Mrs. Hall and Ed can see how it all happened.”

“We can hide the box until after lunch and then give it to Ed,” Honey suggested, “that is, if we can manage to keep the secret that long.”

Early the next morning Trixie woke to find the sun shining brightly. She nudged Diana a couple of times to awaken her, and then the two of them went into the next room. Honey was still sleeping soundly and made mumbled protests at being disturbed, but she finally pulled herself out of bed, shaking her head to get fully awake.

“You two are perfectly horrible to disturb my dreams,” she said drowsily. “I had just had an invitation to a dance by a tall, handsome man when you woke me up.”

“Was he dark or light?” Diana asked her.

“Dark. He had black hair, and come to think of it, he looked a lot like Brian,” Honey replied with a smile.

“Sorry for the interruption, old dear, but your
dreams will have to wait. Remember, this is the day when we make
Ed's
dreams come true,” Trixie said. “Come on. Let's get dressed. I heard the boys banging away upstairs ages ago.”

As Celia was serving breakfast a short time later, the phone rang. “I'll get it,” Brian said, heading for the hall. “It's probably Peter.”

“Or Mrs. Hall,” Trixie suggested, her face clouding. “Maybe Di was right and Ed can't meet us.”

Any fears the Bob-Whites may have had were groundless, however, for Brian came back, smiling broadly, to say the call was from Ed. “He wants us to come over early because the surf conditions are ‘Go,' ” he announced, “and he wants to be sure we'll have plenty of time to swim before lunch.”

“What a relief!” cried Trixie. “I didn't dare think too much about today, so many things could have gone wrong.”

“Like the weather, for instance,” Jim said. “Do you realize we've had perfect weather every day since we got here except for the first humdinger of a storm, and that one early morning fog?”

“The weatherman probably feels so guilty about throwing that one at us, he's been trying to make up for it ever since,” Mart chuckled.

They got to the beach in Easthampton about ten thirty and found Ed waiting for them at the entrance to the parking lot. Trixie recognized him immediately from the picture his mother had shown her. After greeting him, she introduced Peter and the other Bob-Whites. Ed had an easy manner, and although he was older than they, he seemed genuinely interested in what they had been doing during their vacation, and by the time they had reached the bathhouse, everyone seemed to be talking at once.

They changed into their suits and then made their way across the warm sand to the edge of the water. At first sight of the long stretch of beach, the opalescent colors of big breakers, and the long view of blue ocean to the horizon, the Bob-Whites were speechless. None of them had ever seen the open ocean before. Even Cobbett's Island, surrounded by the protecting waters of the bay, was nothing like this. They found it an awesome sight, and a little frightening.

Ed and Peter, who had swum many times in the surf, showed them how, by waiting until a wave was just at the point of breaking, they could dive through it. Honey was the first to catch on, and she made a beautiful shallow dive, disappeared for a few seconds beneath the breaker, and then bobbed up out beyond the
combers. Mart was rolled over a couple of times before he got the knack of it. He pulled himself out from the undertow, his hair full of sand, undaunted, and ready to go back for more tries. All of them improved with practice and soon were able to plow through the waves and swim out to calmer waters.

When they began to feel tired, they stretched out on the blankets Ed had brought, luxuriating in the warm sun which soon dried their hair and suits. Brian and Ed began to talk about medical school, and as Trixie listened, she nearly burst with suppressed excitement.

“I've been awfully lucky so far,” Ed was saying, “what with scholarships and jobs, but, I swear, right now I can't see how I'll finish my last year unless I take time off for a full-time job.”

“If you had it to do over again, would you still go in for medicine?” Brian asked him seriously.

“I'd do it if it took me a lifetime,” he replied. “To my mind, there's nothing like it, but be prepared for setbacks along the way.”

Before long, Trixie caught sight of Mrs. Hall coming toward them, loaded down with two large hampers. The boys ran to help her as the girls shook the sand out of the blankets and got a place cleared for the lunch. Mrs. Hall, puffing from the exertion of walking
through the shifting sand, greeted them cordially. “I've closed the shop for the day,” she declared. “I figure with Ed home, I might as well take a real holiday and not worry about business. I do believe it's been over a year since I've had a day off, so I guess I deserve a vacation.”

She began to unpack the baskets and to spread the paper plates and napkins on the blankets. Mart's eyes bulged as he surveyed the food. Two large Thermos jugs held piping hot baked beans with frankfurters cut up in them. There were containers of pickles, sliced tomatoes, and cucumbers, and for dessert, an incredible assortment of goodies, including jelly doughnuts. The exercise had made them all ravenous, and there was very little food left when they had eaten.

“I don't think I can ever move again,” Trixie moaned. “I've never eaten so much in my life.”

“It's lucky we had our swim before lunch. It'll take hours to digest all we've eaten,” Jim said.

“Well, while we're waiting, let's show Mrs. Hall and Ed what we found,” suggested Trixie, trying to make her voice sound casual.

Everyone moved into a close circle as Trixie spoke, knowing the time had come to divulge the surprise. She took the letter out of her beach bag and handed it to
Mrs. Hall. “Read this, and then I'll tell you all about it,” she said, her eyes dancing.

“Why, this looks like my Ed's writing,” said Mrs. Hall softly, adjusting her glasses and starting to read. “Oh, my goodness, what can this mean? A thousand dollars? Oh, Ed!”

“What are you talking about, Mother?” her son asked her, leaning over her shoulder to look at the letter. When he had finished reading it, he turned to Trixie, a puzzled expression on his face. “Where did this ever turn up?”

“We found it the first night we were at The Moorings,” she explained. “It fell out of an old book we were looking at.”

“And because my sister is an incorrigible sleuth, she insisted on tracking down the leads until—” Mart was interrupted by Mrs. Hall.

“Don't tell me she found the chart!” she exclaimed. “Why, I wouldn't have the faintest notion where to start looking for it.”

“Trixie found the chart, and this, too!” Honey cried as she produced the black tin box from under the towel where it had been hidden. She handed it to Ed who looked first at Trixie and then at his mother.

“Look inside,” urged Jim. “Go ahead. Open it.”

Mrs. Hall watched, the color drained from her face, as Ed slowly lifted the cover to reveal the money. No one said a word for a moment until the reality of the situation finally struck home. Then Ed, putting his arm around his mother and drawing her close, said in a low voice, “Now I understand all you ever tried to tell me about my father.”

Then the tension broke and everyone started milling around, talking and laughing and telling about the many frustrations they had encountered before they found the money. Mrs. Hall kept saying over and over, “I can't believe it.”

Ed, holding the box tightly as though to reassure himself that it was real, tried his best to thank Trixie and the Bob-Whites.

“Honestly, we don't
need
any thanks,” Trixie told him. “You don't know how much we all wanted to find it when we heard about your plans for next year.”

“Trixie's right,” Jim joined in. “Just knowing your father's wishes finally worked out is enough for us. Now come on, and I'll race you down the beach, if you can run with a thousand bucks under your arm.”

The boys dashed off along the strip of hard sand near the water's edge. The girls helped clean up the picnic things for Mrs. Hall who was still so flustered she started to put the pickle bottle in Honey's beach bag.

“I don't think I'll get over this in a month of Sundays,” she sighed. “Little did I know when you walked into my shop all this would happen.”

“And little did we know what our vacation was going to be like when we left home,” added Trixie. “Remember, Honey, how I said I just wanted to sit on the beach and relax?”

“I certainly do! But do
you
remember I didn't take you seriously, Trix? I know you too well for that,” Honey reminded her.

When the boys returned everyone stretched out on the sand. Quiet descended on the little group, almost as though they were reluctant to break the spell of a wonderful day. Presently, Mrs. Hall, who was nearest Trixie, leaned over and, gently patting her on the shoulder, said, “I hate to mention it, but as our sailor friends would say, ‘The sun is well over the yardarm,' and I know you Bob-Whites have a long way to go.”

“Good heavens, it's almost three o'clock!” Trixie exclaimed. “I can't believe it!”

Picnic things and towels were gathered up and they made their way slowly back to the parking lot. Mrs. Hall gave each of the girls a warm kiss, saying she wished she'd had some daughters of her own. Ed shook hands
with the Bob-Whites and elicited from Brian a promise to write him about his future plans. He waited until last to say good-by to Trixie, started to speak, and then, throwing up his hands, said, “What can I say, Trixie?”

Trixie felt the old telltale blush creeping into her cheeks, but Jim was there beside her to do the talking. “It
is
hard to tell Trixie what we think of her, isn't it, Ed? Let's just say she's tops.”

Trixie dove into the station wagon, followed by the rest of the Bob-Whites laughingly chanting, “She's the tops! Trixie's the tops!”

They waved to Ed and Mrs. Hall and then settled back for the drive to Cobbett's Island. Trixie voiced what they all felt when she said, “It'll be good to get home and see the family and our clubhouse again, but I don't think we'll ever forget this vacation. It's been perfect.”