Free The Mystery of the Missing Heiress by Julie Campbell

Juliana asked. “Detective Belden? Is your father a detective?”
    “Nope,” Mart answered, “Trixie is—and Honey. They’re the Belden-Wheeler Detective Agency; at least they expect to be, when they’re older.”
    “I see,” Juliana said with a sigh, “just kid stuff.” She looked narrowly at Trixie. “You do seem to have a way of ferreting things out.”
    “It’s not kidd stuff,’ ” Mart corrected her. He was swift to spring to his sister's defense, just as he was quick to tease and needle her. “Several pretty important cases would have gone unsolved if Trixie and Honey hadn’t helped the police and federal agents. They’ve even won cash awards for our Bob-White club fund.”
    Juliana smiled indulgently. “I’m sure that must be so. Miss Trask, have you known of this agency?”
    “I surely have,” Miss Trask said firmly. “I’ve not only known about it, but I’ve also been right there with the girls several times when they have unraveled a really difficult mystery—the jewel robbery in New York, for instance. I’ve seen them in operation. 1 don’t make fun of them.”
    Hurrah for Miss Trask, Trixie thought. She never let the Bob-Whites down. Juliana didn’t have to be so sarcastic, either. Oh, well, maybe she hadn’t meant it that way. Other people hadn’t been too impressed, either, with a detective agency made up of two young girls—until they came bang up against some of their achievements. Sergeant Molinson, head of the Sleepyside police, was still sarcastic, and he had reason to know better.
    “I didn’t intend to make fun of them,” Juliana said, so humbly that everyone forgave her. “And I think it is very unselfish of the girls to do volunteer work at the hospital. I’ll have time on my hands until that letter comes through from Holland. Maybe there’s something I can do. Do you think that I might go to the hospital to see this girl? What do they call her, since she can’t remember her name?”
    “Janie,” Trixie said. “Dr. Gregory and the nurses gave her the name. It seems to fit her, even though she shakes her head and says she’s sure it isn’t her name. But, Juliana, I really can’t think of anything you could do at the hospital in the short time that you’ll be here.”
    “Couldn’t I take her some flowers?” Juliana suggested. “Maybe read to your Janie?”
    “I don’t see why not,” Honey answered. “Do you, Trixie?”
    “She can read, herself,” Trixie said. “There’s nothing the matter with her mind, they told us. You might visit Janie, though,” she added quickly, “if it’s all right. We’ll have to ask at the hospital.”

    The girls did inquire and were assured by the head nurse that Janie seemed lonely and restless, and that it might do her good to have visitors.
    So the next day, her arms full of roses from the
    Manor House garden, Juliana went to Sleepyside Hospital with the girls. Jim drove them.
    They found Janie sitting by herself on a chintz-covered sofa in the pleasant solarium on the second floor.
    Sure that Mrs. Wheeler would have wanted her to do so, and urged on by Honey, Miss Trask had thoughtfully provided needed clothing for Janie. The girl made a pretty picture in a leaf-green linen dress which accentuated her lovely blond hair, close-cropped by the doctor to make way for the white bandage wound round her head.
    She looked up expectantly as the three girls greeted her.
    “This is Juliana Maasden,” Honey told her. “She is my brother’s cousin. She lives in the Bronx. She used to live in Holland, in The Hague.”
    A frown crossed Janie’s face and quickly disappeared. “How good to know one’s own name and where one lives,” she said to Juliana. “I don't, you know.”
    “The doctor promises that you will remember, Janie, so don’t worry about it. Relax.” Trixie put the roses in water and held the vase so Janie could see it. “Aren’t they beautiful? They’re from the Wheelers’ garden.”
    “Juliana was