cafe.
On Monday, they went out to Versailles for a tour of the park, the gardens, and the palaces. Trixie was awed by the luxury and wealth of the former French kings. She began to feel a little like Marie Antoinette as she fell under the spell of the huge palace.
As they came out of the smaller palace, Petit Trianon, Trixie suddenly felt a shiver of warning travel up her spine. Whirling around, she could have sworn she saw the red-haired man.
She quickly scanned the crowds but he wasn’t there. Unable to tell for certain whether she’d seen him or not, she finally decided it was just her imagination.
They returned to Paris, had an early dinner, and then taxied quietly out to the airport.
As they walked through the airport, Trixie again had the distinct feeling they were being followed. Whipping her head around, she caught sight of the man with the red hair and bushy eyebrows standing next to a newspaper vendor.
This time she was sure. The red hair, the rumpled trench coat, and those strange bushy eyebrows! But what was he doing here? Suddenly Trixie was certain that the man was following them. But why?
She quickly tugged on Honey’s sleeve. Pulling her back a few paces behind the Wheelers, Trixie urgently whispered in her ear.
“Remember I told you someone was watching us when we picked up the doll?” she said. “Well, he’s been following us, and he’s back there by the news vendor! Take a look!”
Honey stopped and looked over her shoulder.
“Trixie, are you sure?” Honey asked, turning back. “I don’t see anyone by the vendor.”
“He’s wearing a trench coat and has red hair and bushy eyebrows,” Trixie whispered.
Honey didn’t see anyone fitting that description. When Trixie turned around, she didn’t see a trace of the man either.
“Hurry up, girls,” Mrs. Wheeler called. “We’re about to board!”
Trixie took one last look around, but the mysterious stranger had vanished.
In a matter of moments, they were climbing the metal steps to the plane. As Trixie settled in and fastened her seat belt, she wondered if perhaps she’d been wrong. But in a few seconds, it wouldn’t matter anyway. They were leaving Paris and the strange red-haired man behind.
7 * A Suspicious Stranger
TRIXIE SLEPT right through the six-hour flight back to Westchester Airport. She was still drowsy when she went through customs. Because of the time difference, she was home in the cozy living room of Crabapple Farm by 7:30 Monday evening. She was so tired she almost fell asleep in the middle of reading Bobby his bedtime story. The next morning, however, she felt completely refreshed.
“Brian, do you think you could help us this afternoon?” Trixie asked at breakfast.
“Of course,” Brian answered as he finished off his third piece of toast. “What can I do to help our new member of the jet set?”
“Well, the problem is that we have to bring Carl Reid the antique doll we picked up for him in Paris. But I don’t think we should take it to school with us,” Trixie explained. “I was sort of hoping you would drive us over there in the Bob-White station wagon this afternoon.”
“Sure thing. I’ll meet you two when you get off the school bus,” Brian said. “But, just one question. Why did you do a favor for Mr. Reid? And who is Mr. Reid anyway?”
“Oh, Brian, you know who he is!” Trixie groaned. “He’s the owner of that new antique store. He just asked us to pick up this doll while we were in Paris.”
“Well, if you didn’t mind picking it up,” Brian said, “I don’t mind dropping it off. It just seems like an odd thing to do on your weekend in Paris.”
“It was no trouble at all,” Trixie said airily. But she realized that she wanted to discuss the red-haired man with Brian. “I would like to talk to you about it later if you have some time, though.”
“Problems?” Brian asked, suddenly concerned.
“Not really,” Trixie answered, gazing at him fondly. “Just some
On Monday, they went out to Versailles for a tour of the park, the gardens, and the palaces. Trixie was awed by the luxury and wealth of the former French kings. She began to feel a little like Marie Antoinette as she fell under the spell of the huge palace.
As they came out of the smaller palace, Petit Trianon, Trixie suddenly felt a shiver of warning travel up her spine. Whirling around, she could have sworn she saw the red-haired man.
She quickly scanned the crowds but he wasn’t there. Unable to tell for certain whether she’d seen him or not, she finally decided it was just her imagination.
They returned to Paris, had an early dinner, and then taxied quietly out to the airport.
As they walked through the airport, Trixie again had the distinct feeling they were being followed. Whipping her head around, she caught sight of the man with the red hair and bushy eyebrows standing next to a newspaper vendor.
This time she was sure. The red hair, the rumpled trench coat, and those strange bushy eyebrows! But what was he doing here? Suddenly Trixie was certain that the man was following them. But why?
She quickly tugged on Honey’s sleeve. Pulling her back a few paces behind the Wheelers, Trixie urgently whispered in her ear.
“Remember I told you someone was watching us when we picked up the doll?” she said. “Well, he’s been following us, and he’s back there by the news vendor! Take a look!”
Honey stopped and looked over her shoulder.
“Trixie, are you sure?” Honey asked, turning back. “I don’t see anyone by the vendor.”
“He’s wearing a trench coat and has red hair and bushy eyebrows,” Trixie whispered.
Honey didn’t see anyone fitting that description. When Trixie turned around, she didn’t see a trace of the man either.
“Hurry up, girls,” Mrs. Wheeler called. “We’re about to board!”
Trixie took one last look around, but the mysterious stranger had vanished.
In a matter of moments, they were climbing the metal steps to the plane. As Trixie settled in and fastened her seat belt, she wondered if perhaps she’d been wrong. But in a few seconds, it wouldn’t matter anyway. They were leaving Paris and the strange red-haired man behind.
7 * A Suspicious Stranger
TRIXIE SLEPT right through the six-hour flight back to Westchester Airport. She was still drowsy when she went through customs. Because of the time difference, she was home in the cozy living room of Crabapple Farm by 7:30 Monday evening. She was so tired she almost fell asleep in the middle of reading Bobby his bedtime story. The next morning, however, she felt completely refreshed.
“Brian, do you think you could help us this afternoon?” Trixie asked at breakfast.
“Of course,” Brian answered as he finished off his third piece of toast. “What can I do to help our new member of the jet set?”
“Well, the problem is that we have to bring Carl Reid the antique doll we picked up for him in Paris. But I don’t think we should take it to school with us,” Trixie explained. “I was sort of hoping you would drive us over there in the Bob-White station wagon this afternoon.”
“Sure thing. I’ll meet you two when you get off the school bus,” Brian said. “But, just one question. Why did you do a favor for Mr. Reid? And who is Mr. Reid anyway?”
“Oh, Brian, you know who he is!” Trixie groaned. “He’s the owner of that new antique store. He just asked us to pick up this doll while we were in Paris.”
“Well, if you didn’t mind picking it up,” Brian said, “I don’t mind dropping it off. It just seems like an odd thing to do on your weekend in Paris.”
“It was no trouble at all,” Trixie said airily. But she realized that she wanted to discuss the red-haired man with Brian. “I would like to talk to you about it later if you have some time, though.”
“Problems?” Brian asked, suddenly concerned.
“Not really,” Trixie answered, gazing at him fondly. “Just some
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