are in my purse, doesn’t he?”
“Oh, Trixie, you’re right. Maybe we’d better call Daddy after he gets back to Mr. Brandio’s and tell him what you’ve just said.”
“No, let’s not. We’re safe inside our room. The door’s bolted. The boys are right next door. It will be time enough to tell your father in the morning. I’m awfully tired, aren’t you?”
“I am. I’ve just realized it. Tomorrow, though, we’d better tell Daddy. We have to do what the federal agents told us to do. And Daddy, too. That’s why he left those numbers.”
It didn’t happen quite that way, however.
Trixie was sleepless. For a long time after she had climbed into bed, she tossed from side to side. Her mind went back to the Catfish Princess , to the song-fest under the stars. She thought of the ransacked room on the boat, of the man overboard, of the puzzlement and anxiety when the driver sent to meet them was detoured to Memphis, of the wild ride on the river with Bob, and of the session in the federal building in St. Louis.
Finally she fell into a deep sleep. It lasted about four hours. Unable to sleep again, Trixie sat up in bed. Dawn was breaking. Not a sound could be heard outside. The light over the swimming pool just beyond their window had been dimmed. She got up and pushed back the curtain. The dark sky, tinged with pink, was reflected in the water outside. The room seemed stuffy. The pool’s coolness beckoned to Trixie. Quiet as a mouse, she slipped into her swimsuit, tucked a towel into her beach bag, softly slipped the chain from the lock, opened the door, and went out.
Faint stars and a pale crescent moon were still visible in the sky. Insects in the trees scratched out their ratchety music. On the highway beyond, heavy trucks went by, their noise somewhat deadened by the low motel buildings between the pool and the flower gardens and the road.
Trixie yawned, put her beach bag on the bench beside the pool, walked out on the board balanced above the pool, and dived cleanly into the cool, refreshing water.
She swam to the far end of the pool, climbed out, and sat on the edge, dangling her feet in the water. Then, in the half-light, at the end of the pool nearest the motel parking lot, she saw a dim figure emerge from the water and disappear. Someone else likes to swim at dawn, Trixie thought, just as I do. The water feels so good. Lazily she rose, walked out on the board, and dived gracefully down into the depths.
Before she could turn and head toward the surface, a strange, awful thing happened. Tremendous suction suddenly drew her toward the bottom. With all her might, Trixie fought, kicking hard against the concrete floor to force herself to the surface of the water. With every thrust, she was caught tighter in the whirling maelstrom that drew her murderously into its vortex.
The drain had been opened! Water was flowing with monstrous force through the outlet. Trixie was caught in its spiraling speed!
For a brief moment, her head rose above the water. Gasping, she caught a deep breath and screamed in terror. With renewed strength, she slashed the water, kicking desperately and flailing her arms. Using every ounce of strength, she fought her way out of the pull of the water to safety at the pool’s edge.
There, summoned by her scream, the boys and Honey found her. Huddled around her, they soothed and reassured her. Honey held her dearest friend and smoothed her sandy curls. Color returned to Trixie’s face. Strength slowly returned to her body.
“Somebody tampered with that drain,” she said faintly. “I saw someone leave the pool as I swam to the far end. It was Pierre Lontard! I know it!”
“Oh, Trixie!” Mart protested.
“I’m certain of it.” Trixie stood up. “He didn’t wait long to close in, did he?”
“What could he gain by drowning you?” Mart wanted to know. “You seem to forget one very important thing. You’ve turned over the papers to the police. You’re not quite
“Oh, Trixie, you’re right. Maybe we’d better call Daddy after he gets back to Mr. Brandio’s and tell him what you’ve just said.”
“No, let’s not. We’re safe inside our room. The door’s bolted. The boys are right next door. It will be time enough to tell your father in the morning. I’m awfully tired, aren’t you?”
“I am. I’ve just realized it. Tomorrow, though, we’d better tell Daddy. We have to do what the federal agents told us to do. And Daddy, too. That’s why he left those numbers.”
It didn’t happen quite that way, however.
Trixie was sleepless. For a long time after she had climbed into bed, she tossed from side to side. Her mind went back to the Catfish Princess , to the song-fest under the stars. She thought of the ransacked room on the boat, of the man overboard, of the puzzlement and anxiety when the driver sent to meet them was detoured to Memphis, of the wild ride on the river with Bob, and of the session in the federal building in St. Louis.
Finally she fell into a deep sleep. It lasted about four hours. Unable to sleep again, Trixie sat up in bed. Dawn was breaking. Not a sound could be heard outside. The light over the swimming pool just beyond their window had been dimmed. She got up and pushed back the curtain. The dark sky, tinged with pink, was reflected in the water outside. The room seemed stuffy. The pool’s coolness beckoned to Trixie. Quiet as a mouse, she slipped into her swimsuit, tucked a towel into her beach bag, softly slipped the chain from the lock, opened the door, and went out.
Faint stars and a pale crescent moon were still visible in the sky. Insects in the trees scratched out their ratchety music. On the highway beyond, heavy trucks went by, their noise somewhat deadened by the low motel buildings between the pool and the flower gardens and the road.
Trixie yawned, put her beach bag on the bench beside the pool, walked out on the board balanced above the pool, and dived cleanly into the cool, refreshing water.
She swam to the far end of the pool, climbed out, and sat on the edge, dangling her feet in the water. Then, in the half-light, at the end of the pool nearest the motel parking lot, she saw a dim figure emerge from the water and disappear. Someone else likes to swim at dawn, Trixie thought, just as I do. The water feels so good. Lazily she rose, walked out on the board, and dived gracefully down into the depths.
Before she could turn and head toward the surface, a strange, awful thing happened. Tremendous suction suddenly drew her toward the bottom. With all her might, Trixie fought, kicking hard against the concrete floor to force herself to the surface of the water. With every thrust, she was caught tighter in the whirling maelstrom that drew her murderously into its vortex.
The drain had been opened! Water was flowing with monstrous force through the outlet. Trixie was caught in its spiraling speed!
For a brief moment, her head rose above the water. Gasping, she caught a deep breath and screamed in terror. With renewed strength, she slashed the water, kicking desperately and flailing her arms. Using every ounce of strength, she fought her way out of the pull of the water to safety at the pool’s edge.
There, summoned by her scream, the boys and Honey found her. Huddled around her, they soothed and reassured her. Honey held her dearest friend and smoothed her sandy curls. Color returned to Trixie’s face. Strength slowly returned to her body.
“Somebody tampered with that drain,” she said faintly. “I saw someone leave the pool as I swam to the far end. It was Pierre Lontard! I know it!”
“Oh, Trixie!” Mart protested.
“I’m certain of it.” Trixie stood up. “He didn’t wait long to close in, did he?”
“What could he gain by drowning you?” Mart wanted to know. “You seem to forget one very important thing. You’ve turned over the papers to the police. You’re not quite
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