The Mystery of the Millionaire

Lytell and the two girls to stare at her back in confusion.
    When Laura turned back to face them, there were tears brimming in her blue eyes. “I—I can’t ask my father,” she said in a choked voice. “He’s—he’s missing!”

Laura’s Story ● 3

    LAURA RAMSEY buried her face in her hands. She stood silent, with only the movement of her shoulders showing that she was crying.
    Trixie and Mr. Lytell watched Laura awkwardly, ready to look away if the young woman raised her head.
    Honey moved quickly to Laura’s side and put an arm around her. “You poor thing,” she murmured. “Would you like to tell us about it?” Laura breathed deeply, then lowered her hands and looked at Honey gratefully. “Y-Yes, I would like that,” she said.
    “Mr. Lytell, could we move into the back room, so we can all sit down while Laura tells her story?” Honey asked softly.
    Mr. Lytell shot a nervous glance over his shoulder at the back room. Then he turned back and looked distrustfully at Trixie and with curiosity at Laura Ramsey. His love of carefully guarded privacy was at war with his love of gossip. “Well, all right,” he said reluctantly.
    Trixie followed Mr. Lytell into the back room, and Honey guided Laura in after them.
    The room was tiny, dusty, and crowded. Like the store, the room had shelves running along the walls. But unlike the sparsely filled shelves in front, the shelves in the back room were jammed—with ledger books and cardboard boxes from which receipts overflowed. Mr. Lytell’s desk overflowed with paperwork, too. The only decoration in the room was a calendar with “Compliments of A&B Wholesalers” printed across the bottom.
    There were only two chairs in the room: the swivel chair that went with Mr. Lytell’s desk and a straight-backed wooden chair that stood beside the desk. Mr. Lytell quickly took his swivel chair, and Honey led Laura Ramsey to the guest chair. Trixie looked around for a place to sit, then gave up and sat cross-legged on the floor. Honey, after a futile glance around the room, sat next to Trixie on the dusty floor.
    Laura Ramsey reached into the trim shoulder bag she’d been carrying and took out a tissue. She wiped her eyes, blew her nose delicately, and then looked up at the trio who were watching her. “I—I hardly know where to begin,” she said helplessly.
    “Just begin,” Trixie told her. “We’ll ask questions about anything we don’t understand.”
    “My father and I live alone,” she said. “My mother died when I was just a baby. When I was younger we had a live-in housekeeper, but I took over running the household when she retired a few years ago. I’ll be a sophomore at Columbia University when school starts next month.
    “My father owns a chain of grocery stores. He built it up from one store very much like this one. He’s always loved his work, but, because of me, he’s managed his business so that he isn’t away very much, and he doesn’t work overly long hours. What he does is to find experienced grocery store managers—like you, Mr. Lytell— and give them pretty much free rein at his stores.”
    Laura Ramsey smiled feebly at her listeners. “I’m sorry to be so slow in getting to my father’s disappearance, but I think it’s important that you know these things.”
    “Take all the time you need,” Honey said reassuringly.
    “Well, what I’m getting at is that my father is always home by six o’clock. We have a long, leisurely dinner together and talk about the events of the day. It’s an ironclad rule with us.
    “Last night—” Laura broke off and pressed her lips together. She looked at the ceiling for a moment to calm herself. “Last night, he didn’t come home at all.” The words came out in a rush, and Laura once again buried her face in her hands for a moment.
    “Naturally, I’ve been frantic with worry,” she continued. “The call from Mr. Lytell was the first word I’d had, so I decided to come here immediately, to see if there was anything I could find out.”
    “Who have you told about your father’s disappearance?” Trixie asked.
    “No one,” Laura said.
    Trixie looked at Honey in confusion. “Well, it seems to me that you ought to go to the po—”
    “No!” Laura interrupted with a choked shout. Then she shook her head regretfully. “I’m sorry. Of course that would seem logical to you, but— Well, I’m afraid I haven’t been entirely honest in what I’ve told you. That is, our life is