Trixie Get Your Gun

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"Lord, have mercy, what has happened here?" Mrs. Catania stood quietly looking at the shredded costume. Then she clinched her fists. "I'll bet it's those boys. Those hooligans."

The girls watched as the drama coach moved over to the costume rack to inspect the damage. "Was everything all right when you left after the last rehearsal?" Trixie ventured, her voice sounding small and hesitant.

"Yes, and the room was locked up tight as a drum until this morning. Those boys were probably here dropping off those props and they took advantage of the opportunity to do some mischief. This is just to get back at me, I'm sure."

"But why my costumes?" Di asked in a small voice. She had sunk into a straight backed chair just inside the prop room.

"Oh, those were just the first ones handy," Mrs. Catania waved her hand vaguely. "But Mrs. T, our wardrobe mistress and seamstress, will be furious. If I'm not mistaken she had just delivered those last two costumes of yours this morning." Mrs. Catania gestured to the sky blue jersey and then headed over to the opposite wall to inspect the shelves of props. "We can at least find out if those boys were in here - if the prop pistols have been replaced then they definitely were here."

Trixie frowned and went over to the torn costumes. "It is odd that none of the other costumes were even touched," she said. "If they were just doing random harm, why weren't more costumes torn or more damage done to the room?"

"They probably didn't have time. Maybe they thought someone was coming," Mrs. Catania was throwing out possibilities while she moved props around on the shelves. "I can't see where those pistols are."

Mrs. Catania turned back around. A copy of the student newspaper, the Campus Clarion, lay crumpled atop one of the work tables. Ms. Catania tossed the newspaper aside to reveal two silver pistols. She held them up. "See?! They just tossed them here. They must have been in a hurry either to do some more mischief or to get out before they were found out," she said. "I'll call the vice principal - he's in charge of building security. Oh, and I've got to call Mrs. T about getting replacement costumes," talking more to herself than the girls, the drama coach hurried back into her office.

Trixie looked at the destroyed cowgirl suit again and then went to Mrs. Catania's office. While the drama coach flipped through a jumbled rolodex for phone numbers, Trixie picked up the blue material and scissors from the desk, brought them back to the costume room and held the fabric up to the cowgirl suit.

"It matches, " Trixie said.

"Yes, that was part of the sleeve," Diana confirmed.

Mrs. Catania came back in, then. "The vice principal's on the way to see this. I've left a message for Mrs. T. She'll have to redo Di's costumes in addition to finishing the costumes for the chorus members. Do either of you girls sew?" she asked abruptly.

"I do!" Honey was so surprised at the sudden question that she wasn't at all shy in speaking up.

"Good. You'll help Mrs. T replace Di's costumes," Mrs. Catania commanded.
Trixie looked more closely at the scissors she held. The handles were set with what looked to be inexpensive colored stones, like rhinestones. Along the outer blade she saw a name engraved, Cleo Travers.

"Is Mrs. T, Mrs. Travers?" she asked the drama coach.

Mrs. Catania looked over at Trixie in surprise. "Why yes, how did you know?"

"That's the name on these scissors. A lucky guess," Trixie said casually. "Don't you think it's odd the way Mrs. Travers' scissors were placed in your office on top of the material that was part of Di's costume?"

"Yes, it is odd," Mrs. Catania said slowly. "I wonder if those boys meant to implicate Mrs. Travers and turn suspicion from themselves? Or maybe they were just in a hurry and dropped them anywhere."

"How do you know it's those boys?" Trixie asked.

"I don't," Mrs. Catania said candidly. "But, they admit they were in here this morning. Since I fired them from working backstage they have a reason to be angry at the show. At least, they may think they do. They are known trouble-makers."

"Didn't they say that Del had let them in? Would he know anything about this?" Trixie asked.

Mrs. Catania caught her breath and frowned. "Yes, but I hate to think -- I just can't imagine that Del would be in on this," Mrs. Catania frowned and seemed to be weighing what she knew. "He's the Technical Director and I know he takes his responsibilities seriously. But I do know he sometimes associates with those boys. I think one is a cousin. Maybe Del loaned those boys the keys. Or, opened the door for them and left them alone. The door can be set to stay open or lock automatically when you leave," Mrs. Catania crossed to the door and demonstrated how the lock could be set manually. "He shouldn't have done either of those, however. That was careless. Especially given his position."

"What does a Technical Director do?" Trixie asked.

"Basically he's responsible for everything technical: lighting, sound, making sure the sets get built on time. He's not responsible for these costumes, but he is responsible for the safety of people on stage and should be thinking about the overall security of the production," Mrs. Catania turned and replaced the pistols on the shelf. "Especially given the run of incidents we've been having," she muttered under her breath.

Trixie recalled how sullen and uncommunicative Del had seemed. Had he known that more trouble was brewing all the while Mrs. Catania had been scolding his friends? Aloud she asked, "Were you here all morning, Mrs. Catania?"

"Oh no," the drama coach replied. "I came in my office the first thing, but I didn't come in the prop room until just now. I have a full schedule of classes for the first three hours. I came back here just five minutes before you girls did. I had met Del, Greg, and Tony in the hall and had asked them to come back here and talk with me."

"You said that this Mrs. T delivered the costumes this morning?" Trixie asked.

"Yes, she has a key of her own," Mrs. Catania replied. "She probably came in early, when she brought Alison, her daughter, to school."

"So that's someone else who was in here this morning," Trixie said. "I wonder if she or Alison saw anything."

"I don't know. But we'll certainly ask. Maybe they noticed the boys hanging around."

"What do those boys have against Di?" Trixie persisted.

"Well, nothing. But why do you keep assuming all this is against Di?" Mrs. Catania countered.

"Because Di's the one directly harmed in this incident and she's been the only one harmed in a string of other incidents, such as talc in her props," Trixie said.

"How did you know about that?" Mrs. Catania looked hard at Trixie.

Trixie gulped, realizing too late that she'd given away what Di had said in confidence. "Well, you see, Honey and I saw that Di was kinda…well, we were talking to her, we were, you know…I was going to help her rehearse her scenes, and we just wanted to help…"

"Mrs. Catania, I told Trixie and Honey some of what has happened on the set," Di broke in firmly as Trixie's explanations scattered incoherently. She stood up and walked to the worktables "I explained to them that it's important that no one get the impression the production is in trouble. I swore them to secrecy and I know them: they'd never tell."

"Just so you remember that if anyone asks, this show is going just fine! It's going to be a wonderful production!" Mrs. Catania wagged her finger at the girls sternly. Trixie and Honey nodded energetically.

Mrs. Catania held up the crumpled front page of the Campus Clarion, pointed at the headline and read. "It says, 'Annie Get Your Gun Production on Target.' We've been getting some good publicity and good word of mouth. I don't want anything spoiling that now. This musical is less than a month away. And we are staying on target!" She rattled the paper at the girls as if they might be inclined to argue the point.

"Anyway, that problem with the talc was just carelessness," she continued. "And those other things were just coincidences. I mean, who'd want to hurt Diana?" Mrs. Catania asked in bewilderment.

"Yes, who?" Trixie echoed, looking down at the fabric and scissors she held in her hands. "Whoever did this had something..." she stopped herself, not wanting to make Diana more worried.

"Besides, it could just as well be against Mrs. Travers," Mrs. Catania went on as if Trixie hadn't spoken. "I mean, the scissors are hers, so they implicated her, and tearing up the costumes hurts her about as much as Diana. She's the one who'll have to work overtime to replace the costumes."

Before Trixie could remind the drama coach again that other incidents had been directed at Di, the phone in Mrs. Catania's office rang and she hurried back to answer it. While she talked on the phone Trixie, Honey and Di held a hurried conference. They agreed that Trixie and Honey should make whatever arrangements they had to, to join the crew.

Di walked quietly over to the costume rack, leaned over and fingered the remainder of the blue jersey outfit thoughtfully. As Trixie and Honey watched, the worry on her face shifted to determination. She straightened her shoulders.

"I'm not going to let them stop me," her voice was quiet, but resolved. "Mrs. Catania is right: this production is staying on target."

Trixie couldn't find her voice, but she nodded, her eyes shining in admiration.

The hallway door to the prop room opened then and Mr. Reed, Sleepyside High's vice principal, came striding in. Mrs. Catania returned and immediately launched into a recital of the events. She explained that Chris Delaney, the Tech Director, had given the boys access to the prop room sometime that morning and they had returned the silver prop pistols. Other than that time, as far as she knew, Mrs. Catania said, the room had been locked until she and the girls had just walked in.

"Um, except didn't you say the wardrobe mistress delivered costumes sometime this morning?" Trixie asked in a low voice.

"Well, yes, Mrs. T brought these costumes in sometime. The very costumes that have been destroyed," Mrs. Catania added hastily.

As Mrs. Catania talked, the vice-principal inspected the costume rack. "Is this how you found it?" he asked. "Is this all the damage?"

"Yes, we haven't moved anything," Mrs. Catania said.

"Except these scissors," Trixie walked over to the work table. "They were in Mrs. Catania's office, along with a blue swatch of cloth from one of the destroyed costumes, sitting on top of that stack of books in the center of the desk," Trixie said, pointing toward the desk in Mrs. Catania's office. "It was odd. It was like someone did it on purpose to call attention to them."

Mr. Reed looked at her skeptically from behind his tortoise shell glasses and then turned and looked at Honey and Di, as if noticing the three girls for the first time. "What are these students doing here?" he spoke pointedly to Mrs. Catania. "I think it would be better not to talk about this with students around until we've had a chance to investigate."

Mrs. Catania nodded. "You girls run on to lunch now and come back after classes.," she said. "And, remember girls, the play is going just fine!"

Trixie clenched her hands in frustration but she could see they were going to have to obey the vice principal.

"These scissors belong to Mrs. Travers," she said, placing them on the work table.

"I think the boys may have put them in my office to try to implicate Mrs. Travers, our wardrobe mistress," Mrs. Catania said quickly.

"Very well, I'll look into it. You girls go onto the cafeteria," Mr. Reed said firmly, waving them toward the door.

Consulting their watches, the girls realized they hardly had time to eat and decided just to pick up some juice from vending machines in the cafeteria.

"Let's just grab the boys and explain what's happened," Trixie said as she fed quarters into the machine.

"Can we explain?" Honey asked. "I mean, are we supposed to let anyone know the production's having troubles?"

"We need the boys' help. At least I need help if I'm going to be relieved from some of my chores," Trixie said. "Besides, something about what's been done to the costumes is bound to leak out. But, what do you think, Di?"

"I think it will be alright," Di said. "Word will probably get out about what's happened, so we won't be telling them something they wouldn't hear about elsewhere. We just have to explain to them that they shouldn't add fuel to the fire and they should keep a positive image of the show."

Looking around, Honey spotted Jim, Mart, and Brian and the girls headed over to join the boys.

"I'm calling an emergency meeting of the BWGs," Trixie said, as she pulled out her chair. Trixie and Jim served as co-presidents of the club.

Brian groaned, rolling his deep brown eyes. "Gleeps, Trixie! Every meeting's an emergency when you're involved."

"Don't start with me," Trixie retorted. "This really is an emergency. Di's in danger!"

"Danger! What are you talking about?" Brian was still skeptical.

"Perfectly ordinary secondary educational facility with All American students," Mart said. Ostentatiously, he began to look around, making a show of lifting his lunch tray and looking under it, then peeking under the table. "Nothing here or there, but if our excitable sibling declares danger, well, call out the National Guard! Or, at least the local Bob-Whites!"

"C'mon, you guys," Honey said, with unaccustomed fierceness. "This is serious. Someone has been playing some very mean tricks on Di. Tell them, Di," Honey turned to Di.

After extracting the same promise of secrecy from the boys that she'd demanded of Honey and Trixie, Di quickly related some of the problems that had been occurring on the set, culminating in the destruction of her costumes.

Brian whistled. "That does sound serious, Di," he said sympathetically.

"I'm sorry to hear about the trouble," Jim said. "I built a stair case and some other scenery for the show as one of my shop projects."

"Yeah, I've also lent my more modest carpentry skills on some of the scenery," Mart added. He held up a copy of the Campus Clarion. "This is a great picture of you, Di, and the article is filled with encomiums for the production. It makes it sound like this is going to be a 'really big shoe,'" Mart said, in a dead-on imitation of Ed Sullivan.

"It's one of the biggest productions Sleepyside High has ever mounted," Di confirmed.

"And someone's trying to ruin it, at least for Di," Trixie concluded. She frowned and reached for the newspaper. "Did this issue come out today?"

"Hot off the presses," Mart replied.

"There was a copy crumpled in the prop room on top of the prop guns," Trixie mused.

"Trixie's already trying to assimilate the crime scene," Brian said, a look of amusement on his handsome face. "Look, I agree that this is very important, but, if Mr. Reed has taken over, we Bob-Whites can hardly rush in and make a citizen's arrest."

"I don't know how Mr. Reed will get to the bottom of it.," Trixie said, shrugging. "It's pretty clear that he and Mrs. Catania don't take it seriously that this is all aimed at Di. They think it's just general vandalism."

"Why shouldn't it be general vandalism, Trixie?" Jim asked, twirling an apple in his hands.

"Because it was only Di's costumes that were destroyed. And Di's the one whose allergies were purposely enflamed. And on and on," Trixie said.

"That's still assuming a lot," Brian said. "There are other possibilities from the evidence, dear Sherlock. Someone could just believe that the best way to wreak havoc on the show is to harass the lead. It may not be personally aimed at Di."

"Then why isn't anything happening to Robert Wells, the actor who's playing Frank Butler, the male lead?" Trixie asked.

Brian raised his eyebrows, shrugged, then nodded slowly, "You've got me there."

"Whether it's aimed at me or not, it makes me feel better just knowing Trixie and Honey will be around," Di said.

Honey explained then that she and Trixie planned to join the production behind the scenes. "Actually, we don't even have a choice any more," Honey said ruefully. "Mrs. Catania has already drafted me to help sew new costumes for Di."

"And I'm the new stage hand," Trixie said. "Whatever that means."

Brian looked at Trixie. "Putting on a play takes a lot of time. Di's been at it day and night ever since we've been back from Arizona. When are you going to find the time to be a stage hand and still keep up with all your chores and homework?"

Trixie honestly didn't know how she was going to do it. She stared at her orange juice, hoping an answer would float to the top. Aloud she said, "It's only two weeks. I think when I explain to Moms and Dad they'll give me a break. Mrs. Catania says it's very educational," Trixie's voice trailed off.

"Uh-oh, my infallible meteorological instrumentation tells me which way this wind is blowing," Mart said, licking his index finger and sticking it in the air. "Trix here thinks she's found a way to get out of Bobby-sitting and doing the dishes and leaving it all to me!"

"As if you've so much as dipped your hands in dishwater in this millennium," Trixie retorted.

"My helping hands have been fully occupied assisting our paternal parent as he repaints the picturesque Belden abode, commonly known as Crabapple Farm," Mart replied. "Be that as it may, there's already a schedule conflict. In case you've forgotten, you were slated as the designated caregiver for young Master Robert Belden this afternoon after school."

Trixie slumped in her seat. She'd completely forgotten about promising to babysit Bobby while her mother shopped in White Plains.

"Look, I know there are problems, but can't we work something out?" Honey pleaded. "You should have seen those costumes. They were ripped to shreds. And, you can see that Di's allergies are making her miserable!"

The six Bob-Whites sat quietly, each staring at the table.

After a minute Jim broke the silence. "We're supposed to be here for each other," he said slowly. "This is really important to Di. So let's see what we can do to put the Schoolgirl Shamuses on the case. This will take some arranging. Remember, we've all got lots of responsibilities. You Beldens have your chores and there's one other obligation we all have: exercising the horses. We can't let Regan down after we've just been back from Arizona for a little over a month."

Jim's reminder about Regan quieted the group again.

"I can do some of Honey's riding, but not all of it because I've got my responsibility to Mr. Maypenny," Jim added. Jim served as a part-time gamekeeper to the Wheeler's full time gamekeeper, Mr. Maypenny, who lived on a small, piece of land located inside the Wheeler game preserve.

"I'll get up early on some of the school mornings and ride so you don't have to do it all," Honey said quickly.

"All right," Brian said evenly. "I'll do what I can to take over some of Trixie's chores at home and take some of her riding turns. But, neither Mart nor I can do them all, plus our own chores."

"That's great," Trixie said gratefully. Brian took a very dim view of anyone who shirked responsibilities, especially his younger siblings, but he was quick to help anyone for a good cause. "I'll just have to work extra hard, that's all." She turned to Mart. "I suppose you're going to try to blackball the plan," Trixie said.

"Not at all, not at all," Mart said. "I'm as eager as you are to apprehend the dastardly villain who's threatening this theatrical undertaking. Not only will I agree to undertake some of your household and equestrian responsibilities, but just to demonstrate the magnanimity and nobility of my character, I'll do your babysitting for you this afternoon."

Trixie groaned. "You're too kind, Your Magnanimous-ness," she said, making a half-bow in Mart's direction. "How can I ever repay you?"

"Oh, I'll find a way for you to repay me," Mart said with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "With interest!"

Chapter 4: Cui Bono?

Though she struggled, Trixie found it next to impossible to pay attention in her afternoon classes. The immediate problem of who might be sabotaging the set of Annie Get Your Gun seemed so much more important than the role of the topic sentence in a paragraph or the presidential elections in the 1800's.

The scissors and cloth left on Mrs. Catania's desk confused Trixie. They seemed to point so blatantly to Mrs. Travers. Who would do that and why? Surely no one who was responsible for the vandalism would want to leave something that belonged to them out in plain view.

"And, they seemed to be prominently displayed which seems so odd," Trixie thought. "It's as if someone wanted to make sure the scissors were seen."

If someone had purposely left the scissors on the drama coach's desk to implicate Mrs. Travers, as Mrs. Catania had speculated, then how would they have gotten hold of Mrs. Travers' scissors, Trixie wondered. "That's something I forgot to ask," she thought. "Maybe I can meet Mrs. Travers during rehearsals and ask her when she noticed that her scissors were missing," she made a mental note to herself.

And then there was the question that Mr. Reed and Mrs. Catania kept dismissing, but Trixie considered paramount: why Di? What would Greg and Tony have against Di?

Trixie's thoughts circled back to Mrs. Catania's other explanation: that whoever had destroyed the costumes had dropped the scissors on her desk because they'd been in a hurry.

"Someone in a hurry," Trixie mused. She recalled the encounter she and Di had had with Alison Travers on the way to study hall that morning. Alison had come rushing around the corner from the general direction of the theater and then, when she'd run into Di, she'd turned red and darted away.

In retrospect, the girl's frightened attitude began to appear suspicious to Trixie. "She looked like she'd been caught red-handed. She's got something to hide," Trixie decided. "I wonder just how badly she wanted the part of Annie Oakley."

"So, Jim's mentioned Alison?" Trixie said casually to Honey when they met back by their lockers after classes.

"Yes, just in passing," Honey said, neatly stacking her books on the top shelf of her locker. "Jim's very observant, you know. After his own troubles at home, he picks up on other people who are distressed."

Jim Frayne had previously lived with his greedy and bad-tempered stepfather, a man Jim referred to simply as Jonesy. When Jim's mother died, Jonesy had bullied Jim and made him work long hours. Jim had run away from home and taken shelter in his uncle's vacant and neglected mansion, Ten Acres, which overlooked the Belden's Crabapple Farm from the hill opposite the Wheeler's Manor House. While exploring one day, Trixie and Honey had found Jim and uncovered clues leading to the recovery of Jim's inheritance from his uncle, who by then was deceased. Shortly afterwards, Honey's parents had adopted Jim.

"You said that Jim says Alison seems frightened?" Trixie asked.

"Yes. Jim says it's like there's a shadow in her eyes. Jim says -"

"'Jim says, Jim says.' Who knew my dear sister took my words so to heart?" the girls turned to see Jim threading his way through the passing students to his locker.

"You've been popping up out of nowhere all day today!" Trixie exclaimed.

"I guess that makes me a true Bob-White, doesn't it?" Jim smiled breezily. "Besides, someone's got to keep you girls honest."

Trixie and Honey rolled their eyes. "Well, you're a bit behind the time," Trixie said. "I've already got the mystery solved."

Honey gasped. "Already?!

"Well, at least I have a prime suspect," Trixie amended.

"Who's your suspect, Trixie?" Honey asked.

Trixie shook her head. "All in due time, Watson. But, tell me Jim," Trixie looked around to see if anyone was listening and then lowered her voice. "Has Alison Travers ever mentioned performing in the musical to you?"

"Sure. I think she's shy about performing on stage, but she really does enjoy the music," Jim said.

"Did she happen to say anything about Di? Like, has she said anything about Di's allergies and losing her voice? Made any comment that she might have to take over the part?"

"Not that I recall, but I haven't talked to her lately. She wasn't in Chemistry this morning," Jim shut his locker door and secured the lock.

Trixie's ears perked up. "Not in class? When do you have Chemistry?"

"Second period," Jim said.

"That's right," Trixie said excitedly. "She couldn't have been in Chemistry because she nearly ran down Di and I right before third period and she wasn't coming from the Chem labs. She was coming from the direction of the theater."

"Oh, Trixie, you don't think…" Honey began.

Jim's green eyes narrowed. "Now see here, Trixie Belden. Don't you go jumping to conclusions. Just because Alison was rushing down the hall isn't proof of anything. People rush down the hall every day."

Trixie didn't say anything, but she was thinking, "Yes, but not everyone is rushing from the direction where major mayhem has just been committed. Mayhem that gets them the lead in the musical if it makes Di drop out."

Honey tapped Trixie's shoulder. "We'd better get going," she said. "We're supposed to meet Chris Delaney and Nancy before regular practice starts."

"Right, let's go," Trixie quickly closed and locked her locker door. When she turned around, Jim was leaning against the lockers, a stern look on his face.

"I mean it, Trixie," he said. "I'm glad for all of us Bob-Whites to support Di. And if you solve a mystery, great. But don't go making trouble."

"Trouble's already being made," Trixie said tartly. "We're just going to find out who's doing the making."

"I just have a feeling that Alison needs the help of the Bob-Whites as much as Di does," Jim said.

The seriousness of his tone brought Trixie up short. "Okay, okay," she stammered. "I'll be careful." With that Trixie and Honey hurried off to the prop room.

"Trixie, you don't really suspect that sweet Alison Travers, do you?" Honey whispered as the girls hurried along.

"Well, the first rule in investigating any crime is to ask, cui bono?" Trixie said.

"Qwee what?" Honey frowned.

"Cui bono. Mart taught that to me, of course. It's Latin and it's the only Latin I know or am ever likely to learn," Trixie giggled. "It means, 'who benefits?' And you have to recognize that Alison stands to benefit from this sabotage. If Di drops out of the musical, Alison becomes the lead," Trixie said.

"Yes, but honestly, Trixie, I don't know if she thinks of that as a benefit. Jim says she's really very shy about performing. Jim says she may not even want the lead. You heard him."

"'Jim says, Jim says,'" Trixie imitated Jim's teasing tone with a grin. "We'll just see if Jim knows what he's talking about. But in the mean time, we need a game plan. If you are going to be assigned to help Mrs. Travers work on costumes, maybe you can do something to make sure you get to work on Di's. That way, you can help to protect them or at least keep track of what's going on."

"I see what you're saying, Trixie. Apparently, there are still some other costumes to be completed for the members of the chorus. But since I'm a newcomer, I don't know if I'll get much say in it."

"Use your famous tact," Trixie grinned. Honey's diplomatic approach to others was often very effective in getting other people to do what she wanted, more effective, Trixie knew, than her own tendency to blurt things out.

The girls entered the prop room and saw that Nancy Norland was already there. A trim girl with short, dark brown hair and glasses, she was staring intently at her clipboard, methodically going down a page, making checkmarks. She looked up as Honey and Trixie entered. "Hi, you guys!" she said brightly. "Glad you are coming on board!"

"We just hope we can actually help," Honey said sincerely. "We really are novices."

"That's no problem, willing hands are always welcome. I think we have a couple of more new crew members who will be joining us later. Mrs. Catania said that Honey is to be assigned to Mrs. Travers, at least for the next week or so, to make sure we have our costumes in order. Then you can lend a hand with make-up and costume changes. And, Trixie, you'll start out backstage. We'll put you in charge of a couple of prop tables and I think you'll help change scenery. We have some heavy rostra and lots of flats," Nancy said.

"Flats? Rostra? Trixie asked, already feeling out of her depth.

"Sorry!" Nancy smiled. "Flats and rostra are terms for specific kinds of scenery. We'll show you that later today or at least I will," Nancy hesitated and bit her lip. "Del's not here yet. He's talking with the vice-principal."

"Have they learned anything more about what happened to the costumes?" Trixie asked.

Nancy shook her head briefly and her brows knit slightly. "I don't know what's going on," she said shortly. "Mrs. Travers hasn't arrived either, Honey. So why don't I give you two a quick backstage tour while we're waiting?" Nancy picked up the two silver pistols that Tony and Jeff had "borrowed" and handed them to Trixie. "These are used by Annie Oakley and they can be the first props you take charge of. They belong on a prop table back stage."

"Mrs. Catania showed them to us, but I hadn't had a chance to look at them closely," Trixie said. "I have to admit I can see why someone would be tempted. These are beautiful." Trixie ran her hands over the silver engraving and faux pearl grips.

"They look a little too real!" Honey said with a small shudder.

"They're called blank pistols," Nancy replied. "They make a nice, loud bang, but not to worry, they can't fire real ammo. C'mon, let's head backstage."

Nancy opened the door that led from the prop room to the backstage of the theatre. The door swung open and the girls entered a stage that was dark except for a dim yellow light shining from a pole at center stage. The light gave the theater an eerie glow and threw large shadows against the walls.

"It's almost ghostly," Honey said with a nervous laugh.

"As a matter of fact, that is a ghostlight," Nancy said. She reached over and flipped on several switches, completely illuminating the stage area.

"A ghostlight?" Trixie asked curiously.

"Yes. That's what it's called," Nancy said as she turned off the ghostlight and moved the pole from center stage to the wings. "There's a long tradition in theatres of leaving a light on stage when no one is around. Some people say if the stage is completely dark for too long, a ghost will take up residence and cause accidents backstage. So, that's why it's called a ghostlight."

"Jeepers, are you sure the ghostlight has been on? I mean, you have had quite a few accidents. Maybe you've got a ghost who's miffed!" Trixie said lightly, but Nancy frowned.

"It's been on, I've seen to that."

"I didn't mean anything - " Trixie started to say.

"I know. It's all right," Nancy replied. "I just wish someone could find out what's going on. Some of what's been happening seems accidental or people just not thinking. Then, other times…" she nodded toward the prop room, leaving unspoken the destruction of Di's costumes, which had clearly been harmed on purpose.

"Trixie's really good at finding out what's going on," Honey said.

"Yes, I've heard about Trixie's adventures as a detective. But, I don't know about this. You'll be busy back stage and Mr. Reed is making inquiries and taking charge of that now," Nancy said. "But I just hope someone can get to the bottom of this! I don't want to get to Opening Night with a mischievous ghost on the loose backstage!"

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