The Pet Show Mystery

tips of his ears were bright red, and his dark eyes were sparkling with amusement. “Let me guess. Mart was telling you about his vast experience with computers—all twenty minutes of it.”
    “Why, how did you know?” Trixie asked her oldest brother in mock amazement.
    “Easy,” Brian said. “He talked about nothing else all the way home. I almost wished I’d ridden the bus, instead of taking my car so we could run an errand after school.”
    “Obviously, neither of you has envisioned the possibilities,” said Mart. “I can learn to use an electronic spreadsheet, for example.
    Then I’ll be a more effective treasurer for the Bob-Whites. I’ll be able to trace our transactions, do quarterly financial analyses, produce long-term projections—”
    “You’re going to do all those things?” Trixie asked. “The Bob-White treasury hardly ever has more than five dollars in it. That wouldn’t be worth the money you’d need to run the computer!”
    “You haven’t grasped the intricacies of control theory,” Mart sniffed. He gathered up as much fruit and cheese as he could carry in one hand and picked up his book bag with the other. “I can’t spend more time trying to explain it; I have work to do.”
    “I do, too,” Brian said. “Of course, I don’t have any interesting classes—just boring old science, math, history, and English lit. But I’ll apply myself to my studies as best I can.” Scooping his books up off the counter where he’d set them, he followed his brother up the stairs.
    The bantering exchange with her brothers had almost made Trixie forget about her boredom. But as soon as they left the room, all of her energy seemed to go with them. “I should study, too, I guess,” she said, but she didn’t make any move toward her book bag. Impulsively, she asked, “Moms, can I go over to the Manor House to see Honey?”
    “But you just rode home together on the school bus,” Mrs. Belden said.
    “I know, but we can’t talk on the bus. It’s so crowded and noisy. Seeing Honey will cheer me up. Please? I’ll be back by dinner time, I promise.”
    “All right,” Mrs. Belden said. “It sounds to me like a good winter tonic.”
    “The best!” Trixie agreed. She dashed for the back door, and pulled on her boots and jacket. Calling good-bye, she headed outdoors.
    The cold stabbed at her like an icy knife. Walking down the long driveway of Crabapple Farm required her to face the wind, and her eyes watered and her forehead ached. Maybe this wasn’t such a great idea after all, she thought. Especially since the path between our house and the Wheelers’ is snowed over. Going down Glen Road is almost twice as far.
    At Glen Road, she turned and began walking toward the Manor House. The wind shifted, and she was still walking directly into it. She walked with her head down, her eyes watching her boots as she trudged through the snow.
    When she looked up again, she saw something dark at the side of the road several yards ahead. She blinked away the tears that blurred her vision. The thing wasn’t a bush, because its outline was too distinct for that. It wasn’t a cluster of rural mailboxes, either—there weren’t any between the Manor House and Crabapple Farm.
    Finally Trixie began to make sense of the strange shape. It’s some kind of four-legged animal, she thought. No — wait. It’s a person on hands and knees. But why would a person be kneeling in the snow by the side of the road?
    “Oh, no!” she shouted. “It must have been a hit-and-run accident!” She began to run as fast as she could in her bulky clothes toward the person.
    As Trixie drew near, the person began to rise, slowly and awkwardly. You should never get up if you’re hurt, Trixie thought frantically, recalling her first-aid training.
    She sprinted the last few feet and then lunged forward, reaching out. “Let me help you!” she called.
    Startled by the sound of Trixie’s voice, the person whirled around, colliding with Trixie’s outstretched arms. Something was knocked to the ground and landed on the hard snow with a soft thud. At the same time, hundreds of small golden pellets flew up into the air.
    “What do you think you’re doing?” a girl’s voice asked. She was dressed in heavy pants, a hooded parka, and a knit muffler.
    “I-I was trying to help,” Trixie stammered, surprised at meeting someone on the icy road. “Are you hurt?”
    “You didn’t run into me that hard,” the girl said. “I