The Hudson River Mystery

again, deep in thought.
    Dan breathed an exaggerated sigh of relief as he turned the corner into the Belden driveway. ”What timing! If we can get into the house before the storm unleashes itself on us, we’ll be lucky.”
    ”Good thing we weren’t in my jalopy,” said Brian. ”With the way that’s been running, we’d still be stalled back on Killifish Road. And I’m feeling too tired to deal with engine problems tonight.”
    Dan pulled the station wagon as close to the Belden porch as possible and shut off the motor. At that exact moment, thousands of enormous raindrops began pelting the windshield.
    ”Make a run for it, everyone!” Trixie yelled. She reached for the door handle on her side and found that she could barely push the door open against the force of the wind. She leaned all of her weight against the door, toppled from the car into the wind, and was the first of the teen-agers to burst through the door into the white frame house.
    A warm and cozy scene awaited them inside the Belden kitchen. Mrs. Belden was busy frying chicken at the stove, while Mr. Belden was cleaning up from the canning activities. Mart and Bobby sat at the maple kitchen table, laughing noisily.
    ”Let’s try this again,” Mart was saying. ”It’s chiedfricken. Chied fricken. Now, you say it.”
    ”That doesn’t make any sense,” insisted Bobby, who was more literal-minded about language than his brother. ”I like cry chicken better. That’s what the chicken is doing in the pan-crying!”
    ”But, Bobby,” Mart began, pounding his hands on the table in mock exasperation. ”Oh, never mind. I’m sure a good fry will get this out of my system.”
    ”Sounds promising,” said Trixie saucily. ”Can we help?”
    ”Oh, Trixie, I’m glad you’re back,” Mrs. Belden greeted her. ”Did you find—oh, there you are, Brian.”
    ” ’Hail, hail, the gang’s all here,’ ” Mr. Belden said cheerfully. ”Take your wet jackets off and have a seat, everyone. Loyola and Dan, you’re welcome to stay for Sunday dinner, if you like. I wouldn’t send a dog out on a night like this. Honey, I assume that dinner was part of the bargain Trixie made with you today.”
    Honey nodded as she stroked behind the ear of Reddy, the Beldens’ undisciplined Irish setter. ”I’d hate to think what Reddy would do if you ordered him outside! He’s so fond of doing exactly the opposite of what people tell him.”
    ”May I call my grandfather?” asked Loyola. Trixie recalled Brian telling her that Loyola’s parents were dead and that she lived with her grandfather in a small apartment in Sleepyside.
    After Loyola had received permission to stay for dinner, Dan called Mr. Maypenny to let him know where he was. Then the young people set about helping with the last-minute preparations for dinner. Between the aromas of the evening’s meal and the lingering scents of the afternoon’s vegetable canning, everyone’s appetite was running high.
    ”I’m so hungry I could faint!” exclaimed Brian, plunking the last of the silverware on the table.
    ”Didn’t you pack a lunch for this afternoon?” his mother asked.
    ”We had a feast at around noon,” Loyola put in.
    ”You won’t catch me denying that,” Brian said with a grin. ”I don’t know why, but I feel like my jalopy must feel when its tank is just about empty.”
    ”Well, fill ’er up,” announced Mr. Belden, setting down the first heaping platter of crispy fried chicken.
    ”Hey, the chicken stopped crying,” Bobby said.
    Mart shot him a withering glance.
    ”Oh, speaking of moisture,” said Mrs. Belden as she took the rolls out of the oven, ”I almost forgot to tell you—they changed the forecast a little while ago. The hurricane doesn’t appear to be heading inland, after all. There are severe thunderstorm warnings out for the rest of the evening, though.”
    Trixie looked at the rain streaming down the kitchen windows and shivered. She was still chilled from her brief run in the rain, but she felt something more, too. Why am I so nervous? she wondered silently.
    Round and round the table for first, then second, helpings went the chicken, the mashed potatoes, the hot buttered rolls, the earliest crab apple jelly of the season, the green beans with almonds, and the salad of marinated tomatoes and cucumbers. For several minutes, the murmur of ”please pass...” and ”thank you” was the only conversation to be heard.
    Suddenly Trixie dropped her fork with a