The Mystery of the Antique Doll

turned around to face the owner of the voice.
    “Uh, yes,” Trixie stammered.
    A short, stocky, middle-aged man faced the girls. He was wearing an expensive-looking, perfectly fitted grey suit. A gleaming gold chain rested across his slight paunch.
    “We were just looking at the toys,” Trixie explained. “They’re very interesting. We were wondering if the Indian and the bear were a bank of some sort.”
    “A bank?” the man said. “I have no idea.”
    “What is this donkey supposed to do?” Honey asked, holding up the small toy. “Would it be all right if I wound it up?”
    “No, I’d rather you didn’t,” the man muttered. “It’s an antique, and it might break.”
    “Of course,” Honey said, putting the toy down. “Then could you tell me where this dollhouse comes from? It looks as if it might have been made in the 1880’s, but the way the roof is made makes me think it might have been later.”
    The man frowned and rubbed his cheek thoughtfully. He looked from the dollhouse to Honey, as if undecided about what to say.
    Honey pretended not to notice his discomfort, and went right on asking questions. She moved quickly around the room, touching one object after another, while Trixie watched the man’s reactions in amazement. Honey was miles ahead of him in her knowledge of antiques.
    While the man was distracted, Trixie studied his face. Could he be the owner? She really hadn’t been able to see the face of the man driving the maroon Mercedes-Benz, so perhaps this wasn’t Mr. Reid at all.
    “Is Mr. Reid here?” she asked finally.
    “I’m Carl Reid,” he answered. “What do you want?”
    “You’re the owner?” Trixie gasped. “I mean, uh, are you in charge of running this store?”
    “Yes, I am,” Carl Reid answered gruffly.
    Honey, embarrassed by Trixie’s blunder, stepped forward to take over the conversation. She thought it was certainly odd that Mr. Reid didn’t know anything about his merchandise, but maybe there was a good reason. He may have taken over someone else’s profitable business, as an investment. Her father did that sometimes.
    “We wanted to know about the china dolls,” Honey said smoothly. “I have a friend who’s a collector, but she’s looking for dolls made in Germany before 1885.”
    “Really, kid,” Mr. Reid said, and he rolled his eyes up to the ceiling in annoyance. “I can’t help you. Your friend would just have to come in here and see for herself.”
    “When was this battleship made?” Honey asked. She couldn’t resist another question. “Is it supposed to be a Civil War ship?”
    Mr. Reid looked blank and then his eyes narrowed slightly. He glanced nervously behind him into the storage room.
    “Why don’t you be nice kids and go home?” he said, smiling sweetly all of a sudden. “I’m busy in the back right now, and I really can’t take the time to chat.”
    “But I wanted to ask you about the—” Trixie broke off when she felt Honey’s hand on her arm.
    “Thank you very much for your time,” Honey said, and she led Trixie to the door. It was very nice of you to let us look around.”
    “Sure thing,” Mr. Reid said. He seemed relieved. “Anytime.”
    ‘Honey!” Trixie snapped, as the door closed after them. “Why did you drag me out of there? I wanted to keep looking at the antiques!”
    “I’m sorry, Trixie,” Honey said, “but it was obvious that Mr. Reid didn’t want us in there anymore. Besides, it’s getting dark and we should be starting home.”
    Trixie kicked at the stones along the side of the road as they walked. She knew that Honey was right, but she was very curious about Mr. Reid, too.
    “Didn’t you find it a bit peculiar that he didn’t know anything about antiques?” Trixie asked finally.
    “Well, for one thing,” Honey said, “you can’t jump to conclusions about his knowledge of antiques. Just because he didn’t know about the toys, doesn’t mean he knows nothing about any antiques at all.”
    “Yes, I know,” Trixie said, “but I think you and I know more about antiques than Mr. Reid does. You do anyway.”
    “You’re still jumping to conclusions, Trixie. He’s a businessman. He knew we weren’t planning to buy anything from the shop. He didn’t want us wasting his time unless we were serious!”
    “Humph,” Trixie sniffed, feeling somewhat put out. “I’m always serious! I just think there’s something fishy about that man, that’s all.”
    “That’s what I love