The Mystery of the Memorial Day Fire by Julie Campbell

it.”
    “I don’t think he’s calm at all,” Brian said. “He’s just quiet. I bet there’s plenty of hurt under the surface. I worry more about people like that than I do about the ones who let go and show they’re upset.”
    “Speaking of letting go,” Trixie said, “where are we going now? What are the errands we have to run for an hour?”
    “I thought we’d go to the lumberyard and price the supplies we’ll need for the clubhouse,” Brian said as he turned out of the parking lot.
    “The only activity less fun than staying at the jail,” Mart said with a sigh.
    “I’ll grant you it will be depressing to find out how much the repairs will cost,” Brian admitted. “But we have to start somewhere.”
    “How could this place be depressing?” Trixie asked a few minutes later as she led the way into the lumberyard. “That wonderful smell of sawdust always makes me happy. And there’s so much to see.”
    “Let’s start with the shelving,” said Brian, always businesslike. “Should we use real oak shelving like this or get pine one-by-tens the way we did before?”
    “One-by-tens, of course,” Trixie said. “We’ll never be able to afford real oak. It’s beautiful, though.”
    “Right you are,” Brian said. “The pine boards are back this way.”
    The lumber was disappointing after the beautiful, fine-grained oak they’d just looked at. The price, although lower, was still astounding when Brian added it all up.
    “At least we know,” he said. “Let’s move on to the paint.”
    “Look at all these beautiful colors,” Trixie said, waving her hand at the sample swatches that were hung on the walls of the paint department. “Do we have to paint the clubhouse white again? I know white is a nice, practical color. It’s just that some of these others are so attractive.”
    “Well, take a sample card,” Brian said. “I think we have to stick to white for the clubhouse, but not for the trim. Another color might really add some zip if we used it for the window frames and the door.”
    “Oh, that’s a wonderful idea!” Trixie’s eyes gleamed, and she quickly took a color swatch card and put it in her pocket. “We can have a special meeting of the Bob-Whites to choose a color.”
    “We can also tell them how much the paint will cost,” Brian said, working out the final figure on his scrap of paper.
    “How much?” Trixie asked.
    “Too much,” Brian said, putting the paper in his pocket. “Let’s check the putty. That’s something I know we can afford.”
    “I figured we’d be able to do some shopping this morning,” Mart said. “So I brought along our club’s assets, such as they are.”
    “Good thinking,” Brian told him. “We might as well buy some putty while we’re here. That’s one project we can get going on right away.”
    The Beldens made their small purchase with a feeling of accomplishment. “Summer is officially here,” Trixie said, “since the repairs to the clubhouse have officially begun.”
    Outside, though, it was harder to believe that summer was on its way. A cold spring rain had started to fall.
    It’s too bad it wasn’t raining during the Memorial Day parade, Trixie thought. Then the fire couldn’t have done as much damage. Maybe it wouldn’t have spread to the warehouse at all. That thought reminded Trixie of something else. She grabbed Brian’s arm as he started up the car. “Do we have any time left before we’re to meet Nick?” she asked.
    “A few minutes,” Brian told her. “Why?”
    “We haven’t seen Mr. Roberts’s store since the fire. Let’s drive past it now.”
    “All right,” Brian said. “There probably won’t be much to see, though.”
    When they arrived at Mr. Roberts’s former store a few minutes later, Trixie couldn’t help but feel disappointed that her brother’s prediction had been so accurate. Plywood had replaced the windows and the glass in the door. The brick building itself showed few signs of damage