Free The Mystery of the Midnight Marauder by Julie Campbell Page B

Trixie’s puzzling find.
    “I still don’t understand,” Di said, brushing back her long, silky hair. “What do you think the dogs were doing here? What were they doing on the floor like that?”
    Jim chuckled and bent to fondle Patch’s eager head. “These rascals,” he said, “must have smelled the meat. Either that, or they saw the person with it and followed whoever it was. In any case, the dogs arrived here and promptly got to work on Wimpy’s carton. Then, I would imagine, they had a feast.”
    “That’s what I think, too,” Trixie put in. “And I also think they ate so much they had to sleep it off.”
    “So that’s what they were doing when we found them,” Honey murmured.
    Brian had thought of something else. “We’d better leave everything just the way we found it,” he said. “The police will want to see this.”
    “Oh, Brian, do we have to tell them?” Trixie cried. “I thought we could do all the investigating ourselves.”
    Jim looked stern. “We can’t do that, Trix. This is evidence.”
    “I don’t care what it is,” Trixie answered, her eyes flashing. “If we tell Sergeant Molinson about it, I know exactly what he’s going to say. He’ll think that Mart is the Midnight Marauder, that he stashed the hamburger here, and that we’re trying to cover up for him.”
    “I think Trixie’s right,” Honey said in a low voice. “Couldn’t we—?”
    But Brian was shaking his head. “No,” he said, sounding regretful, “I don’t think we can.”
    “And besides,” Mart said suddenly, as if he’d just made up his mind about something, “there’s no way that Dad and Moms will let us keep quiet about it.” He looked at his sister. “I’m going to tell them everything as soon as they get back.”
    “About Miss Lonelyheart, too?” Trixie asked, trying not to smile.
    Mart sighed. “About Miss Lonelyheart, too,” he answered, nodding his head, “though I’m not looking forward to that bit.”
    “Maybe I’m wrong,” Di put in slowly, “but have you decided exactly what we’re going to tell the police? I mean, we don’t even know where we are. Trixie and Honey found this old shack by accident—”
    “—and we merely followed their signals,” Brian added, frowning. “How about it, Jim? You’re the woodsman. What directions do we give the police, anyway?”
    Trixie was hoping that Jim wouldn’t know the exact location of the old shack in the woods any more than she did.
    But in the next moment, her heart sank as the Bob-Whites followed him outside while he explained. “If you follow that trail,” he pointed to the back of the clearing, “it’ll lead us to the Albany Post Road. Behind us is Sleepyside Hollow. And, of course, if we go back the way we came, we’ll come to Harrison’s Trail and eventually home.”
    “Speaking of home,” Brian said, looking up at the black clouds gathering overhead, “I think we’d better get back fast. We can phone Sergeant Molinson as soon as we’ve seen to the horses. Don’t you think so, Trix?”
    But Trixie’s gaze had followed Jim’s pointing finger. “Are you sure we’re close to the Albany Post Road, Jim?” she asked.
    “I’m sure,” Jim answered. “Why?”
    “I keep on wondering,” Trixie said, “why that hamburger meat was put in here in the first place. Why this shack? Why these woods? I wonder if the Midnight Marauder lives around here somewhere.“
    “Will you listen to her?” Brian said, grinning. “She’s never satisfied. If we answer one question, she can think of ten more to take its place.”
    “At least we found the dogs,” Di said, bending again to give Reddy a hug.
    “Yes,” Trixie said slowly, “we found the dogs. But I’d like to know if they found the meat by accident—or if they actually saw the person who hid it here.” She stared at Reddy and wished he could talk.
    But Reddy merely sat back on his haunches and looked smug.

    It began to rain again just as the Bob-Whites were