Disclaimer:

For anyone deciding to proceed, may it be known that Trixie Belden, and all of her wonderful friends, take-up residence at Random House, in a magical world known as Golden Books. Sadly, I am not a part of Trixie's world, and the words following are simply a tribute, meant to help preserve her memory. In my world, I am not a professional writer, and no money will come from this project. It is an unauthorized story, and certainly not meant to infringe on any copyrights. I am just another fan with an imagination, who longs for a new Trixie mystery.

Thank you.


Author's Note /Prolog: A Labor of Love:

Trixie, I apologize. To me, you will always be fourteen, caught in a never-ending time loop filled with baffling mysteries, failed math quizzes, and exciting spring breaks. I would be as heartbroken as you, to see you lose your first love, or have to say good-bye to your dearest friends.

I suppose it's selfish of me. But by not allowing you to grow up, maybe, just maybe, a little part of me doesn't have to grow up either.

I'd like you to understand, I wrote this story when I was not much older than you are. The last of your books were rolling off the presses, and though I waited with anticipation for every one, sadly, I felt some of the charm of the original fifteen, which I'd read and re-read, had faded with time.

Thinking to myself I could do better, I gave it that old Bob-White try. Only of course, I couldn't. So into a box, my manuscript went, until nearly forty years later, I stumbled across some Trixie Belden fan fiction on the web.

I was stunned. I had no idea there were so many honorary Bob-Whites left in the world. I thought I was the last of a dying breed.

So for the next several days, I poured over the fanfiction pages, savoring every word. And then it hit me. Was it possible that someone might enjoy my story as much as I had theirs? A silly notion perhaps, but gathering up my courage, I located the box and blew the dust off the yellowing pages inside.

The original story had been penned in red ink on lined notebook paper. Something I think you might appreciate. But sadly, the modern world is not as understanding as yours, Trixie, which meant I'd have to put it a more accommodating format.

The process was "arduous," as Mart might say, and took much longer than I anticipated. But one wintry afternoon, as snow floated down from the clouds like angel feathers, I crossed the project off my bucket list.

I know by now you can tell I'm a bit long-winded. But perhaps, if you can overlook this, you'll be able to forgive me and enjoy the tale.

For you see, Trixie, it was a labor of love. You and the Bob-Whites have been there for me whenever I've needed a friend. And for this, you will always hold a special place in my heart.

So, with that said, without any further ado, I present to you:

Trixie Belden and the MYSTERIOUS INHERITANCE


Chapter 1:

Unexpected News

"Of course! Why didn't I think of that?!" whooped red-headed Jim Frayne, as he jumped from his chair in the Belden's cozy kitchen. "Trixie Belden, you're a genius!"

Fourteen-year-old Trixie was about to remind him that a genius wouldn't have failed her mid-term math exam when the handsome young man swept her to her toes and planted a quick kiss firmly on her cheek.

As childish giggles erupted from the doorway, Trixie's face reddened. Whether it was from embarrassment or exasperation, not even Trixie knew for sure. But one thing was for certain, of all of her weekly chores, none tested her patience like babysitting her youngest brother Bobby. It was at times like this she wondered if it was worth her five-dollar-a-week allowance.

Smoothing back her short sandy curls, Trixie took a deep breath and counted to ten before taking the mischievous little boy by the ear.

"Ouch! You're hurteding me," Bobby hollered, as she led him into the sunny kitchen and sat him down at the table.

"It serves you right!" she replied angrily. "How long have you been spying on us?"

"Long enough," Bobby chortled. He wriggled away, then puckered up his lips and made kissing noises at the teenagers. "Wait 'til I tell Mart!"

Bobby's final words were a threat, and Trixie moaned. Oh, why, couldn't she have one of her two older brothers' jobs instead? The lawns couldn't talk back to Brian, and the chickens never snooped on Mart.

MART! Oh No! Trixie thought with horror. Bobby just couldn't tell Mart that had Jim kissed her. He'd never stop teasing her. Besides, it wasn't really a kiss…

The sputtering of Brian's old jalopy, as it came to a stop alongside the colonial farmhouse, interrupted Trixie's thoughts.

"Looks like Bobby won't have to wait," Jim observed glumly, as the six-year-old dashed from the kitchen with glee.

"Then don't just stand there!" Trixie exclaimed. "You got us into this. Come on. We have to stop him!"

Chasing blindly after Bobby, Trixie and Jim nearly collided headlong with the older Belden boys, and their guest, Honey Wheeler, in the entryway.

Honey, whose real name was Madeline, lived in the big mansion on the hill overlooking the Belden's Crabapple Farm. She was also fourteen, but taller and more slender than Trixie. With a sweet disposition and a shoulder-length bob of golden-brown hair, she was aptly nicknamed.

Honey had spent the night at the Belden's, at Trixie's insistence, after Jim, Honey's adopted brother, had suddenly disappeared from school on Friday morning. In truth, according to Brain, who shared the first-period History with Jim, his classmate hadn't exactly vanished. Rather, Mr. Wheeler had shown up unexpectedly and pulled Jim from class. Still, it was all very mysterious, and when news reached the girls later in the day that the two had gone to New York City, and would not be returning that evening, it was almost too much for them to bear.

As far as they knew, nothing terrible had happened, but the problem was, Trixie and Honey hardly knew anything at all, and they'd tossed and turned most of the night, as their imaginations ran wild.

So it wasn't surprising that Honey was not only startled when she saw Trixie with Jim in tow, but also relieved to see that he'd returned.

As Bobby ran into her arms crying, "Holp, HOLP!", Honey couldn't keep from laughing. He'd been making the same pleas when she ducked out earlier with Brian and Mart to run a few errands. She'd left Trixie wrestling to get the little boy bathed and dressed, which apparently had not gone very well. For Bobby was still in his robe, and Trixie looked anything but pleased.

"Hey, what goes?" Brian scolded, letting the heavy bag of charcoal in his arms slide to the floor with a thud. "You know the rules. No running in the house."

"But, they're after me!" Bobby squealed. He pulled away from Honey and darted behind Mart, once again escaping Trixie's grasp.

"That much is obvious," Mart said, bopping the little boy over the head with the morning newspaper. "So, the question becomes, why, are they are after you?"

Trixie narrowed her eyes and shot Bobby a stern glare as a warning to keep quiet.

"Bobby's just playing games," she answered quickly. "I think you'd be more interested to hear about Jim's trip to New York. Why you haven't even said hello to him. Aren't you glad he won't be missing the B.W.G. barbecue this afternoon?"

The initials "B.W.G." stood for "The Bob-Whites of the Glen," which was the name of the teenagers' semi-secret club. Besides Trixie, her two older brothers, Honey, and Jim, there were two other members in the group - Dan Mangan and Diana Lynch. All neighbors in a small rural community, just a few miles outside of Sleepyside on the Hudson in Westchester County New York, the young people had banded together not only for fun and games but to help those in need as well.

Later in the afternoon, Di and Dan were going to join Trixie and the other Bob-Whites at Crabapple Farm for their first B.B.Q. of the season.

"Gosh Jim, I didn't mean to be rude," Mart retorted, "but for Pete's sake Trixie, we just walked in the door!"

Jim couldn't keep from grinning. "That-a-girl, Trix, distract their attention away from Bobby," he thought as his friends welcomed him home.

Only Bobby wasn't about to be ignored. Bursting into their little circle, he shouted, "Hey, I got somethin' 'portant to tell you! Don't you wanna know what it is?"

Panic-stricken, Trixie tried to clamp a hand over Bobby's mouth, but he sank his teeth into her palm, and she had to let go.

"Jim kissed Trixie," he giggled. "I think he lllllluvs her."

Honey let out a slight giggle herself before covering her mouth with her hand apologetically. As Jim's sister, and Trixie's best friend, she knew the two shared a special interest in one another. Until now, however, they'd kept their feelings pretty much to themselves.

Brian, too, tried to hide his amusement. At seventeen, he was the oldest of the Bob-Whites and usually the most mature. Tall, with dark wavy hair, Brain shared his father's good looks and sensible personality.

Mart, on the other hand, was shorter and fairer, taking after his mother's side of the family like Trixie and Bobby. Being a clown at heart, he wasn't about to let the opportunity to tease his sister slip out of his grasp.

"Do my sensory organs delude me?" he asked in mock disbelief. "Surely, this is a false accusation? Tell me it isn't so!"

Jim was thoroughly embarrassed. "I'm afraid I'm guilty as charged," he confessed. "Well, not about that love stuff," he added awkwardly as a few eyebrows shot up. "Your sister's nice and all… but I guess I did kind of kiss her."

"But it was only on the cheek," Trixie jumped in. "And it didn't mean what you think it means."

Mart shook his head dramatically as he addressed Honey and Brain. "This cannot be!" he cried. "My fellow members, I must maintain this man is innocent. A mere victim of a conniving gorgon's toxic spell. The evidence is clear. Only an incantation could drive one so sane into committing such a shameful act." Mart flung an accusing finger at Trixie. "I decree this witch should be burned at the stake."

Already burning, Trixie sent Bobby upstairs to put on his clothes and make his bed when he started to laugh.

Stopping on the top stair, the little boy spun around and muttered, "I wish Moms and Daddy were home. You're mean."

Trixie groaned. She, too, wished her parents had not gone into town for the day. Taking care of Bobby was the last thing she wanted to do. But it couldn't be helped. Her father was a banker in Sleepyside, so when important clients were in town, Mr. and Mrs. Belden were often expected to entertain them.

When Bobby was safely in his room, Jim stepped forward to explain what had happened.

"Have you forgotten Mart? Trixie's a detective, not a witch. The only magic I fell prey to, was her power of deduction."

For the second time that morning, Trixie blushed. It was true that she thought of herself as a detective. And she had solved several baffling mysteries with Honey and the other Bob-White's help. But usually, the boys teased her about her sleuthing. This time, however, Jim was quite serious.

"You see," he continued, "Trixie's discovered the location for my boys school."

At sixteen, Jim was already making plans to open a school for homeless lads once he finished college. This school was going to be more of a year-round camp, where classes would alternate with sports and crafts. Jim knew firsthand how badly educational facilities like this were needed.

After his parents died, he was forced to live with his cruel stepfather Jonesy. Beaten and overworked, Jim ran away and hid on his late uncle's estate, Ten Acres. It was there, that he met Trixie and Honey. Sadly however, Jonesy was soon to discover Jim's whereabouts, and he burned the rotting Victorian mansion to the ground. Although Mr. Jones swore the fire had been an accident, started by a discarded cigarette, Trixie never believed it for a moment. Jonesy was well aware he would receive Jim's inheritance of half a million dollars if the boy were out of the picture.

Fortunately, though, with the girls' help, Jim escaped the fire, and Mr. Wheeler adopted him. After which, Jim vowed to use his inheritance to build a school to give less fortunate boys a safe place to grow up. As of yet, however, he'd been undecided on the site for his fantastic dream.

The young people looked at Jim with anticipation. Smiling, he simply said, "Ten Acres."

Brian was the first to express an opinion. Hitting the side of his head he exclaimed, "Of course! We should have thought of the old Frayne place before. You'll have to rebuild, and probably have the property rezoned, but the location is…"

"Perfectly perfect," Honey finished excitedly. "And I'm sure Daddy will let the boys use the game preserve and lake since you'll be right next door."

Trixie tried to tell the B.W.G.s that Jim had more exciting news, but they were all talking at once and didn't hear her. Stepping out of their midst, she licked her lips and whistled, "Bobwhite. Bob, bob, white." This whistle was the club's secret call.

In response, not only did she get the teenagers' attention, but also that of Reddy, the Belden's rambunctious Irish setter. Bounding into the foyer at full speed, the large dog jumped joyously at Trixie, knocking her off of her feet.

Instructing Mart to put Reddy outside, Brian, the future doctor, went to his sister's aid.

"Are you all right, Trixie? You hit the tile pretty hard?"

Trixie laughed as he helped her to her feet.

"I'm fine. But do you realize what just happened? Reddy came when I whistled. He's never done that before."

"Well, it doesn't matter if Reddy responds to the whistle as long as the Bob-Whites do," Honey replied.

"My sentiments exactly," Mart concurred. "So what on terra has occurred for such a measure to be constituted? I see no one here in dire need of our assistance?"

Scowling first at the big words which Mart so dearly loved to use, Trixie said, "Have patience, my dear sweet twin. I'm calling an unscheduled meeting of the Bob-Whites. Jim has something even more important to tell you."

If there was one thing, Mart hated, then it was being called Trixie's twin. He was eleven months older, but the two looked so much alike that people often made this mistake. Mart knew that Trixie mentioned it as revenge for the way he had teased her.

"Well, Ms. President, I hate to be the one to put a damper on your plans, but we cannot have an official meeting until Di and Dan arrive at 4:00."

"Then we will have an unofficial meeting," Brian said, stepping between his siblings. "Jim can fill the others in at the B.B.Q. tonight. Agreed?"

Sheepishly, Mart agreed.


Typically, the Bob-Whites held their meetings in the Wheeler's gatehouse, which they had painstakingly converted into a clubhouse. But today, since Trixie had to keep an eye on Bobby, they gathered in the Belden's family room.

Rapping her knuckles on the coffee table, Trixie called the meeting to order then passed the floor to Jim. Nearly bursting with curiosity, the B.W.G.s waited impatiently, as Jim found his voice.

"Thank you, Trixie," he said, a wrinkle crossing his brow. "I guess I should start at the beginning. Yesterday morning after I'd left for school, Dad received a call from Jonesy's lawyer Mr. Keebles. He was going to be in the city on business, and was hoping we could meet at 1:00 to go over Jonesy's will."

"Jonesy's will?" Brian whistled. "Are you trying to tell us Jonesy's passed on?"

As Jim nodded, the Bob-Whites fell silent. Up until his death, Jonesy had been serving time in the state penitentiary after attempting to kidnap Jim's cousin Juliana. Trixie and her friends were the ones responsible for seeing him locked up behind bars.

"But when… I mean, how? " Honey asked quietly, breaking the spell that had fallen over the group. "Had he been ill?"

Jim sighed as if he almost hated to go on. "Do you remember earlier this month when the Sleepyside Sun ran a feature on the prison riot upstate?"

Brian was the first to reply. "I think I do," he said, recalling the details. "Several of the inmates staged a riot in the laundry room and started a fire so the building would be evacuated. If I remember correctly, two men died, and a third escaped. The authorities weren't releasing the identities of the deceased prisoners until autopsies could be performed and the families notified."

"Well, it turns out Jonesy was one of the men who died," Jim explained. "He also helped plan the breakout."

Mart flung a leg apathetically over the arm of his chair. "A fitting fate," he remarked coldly. "Your stepfather always was one to toy with the matches, Jim. I must contend what goes around, comes around."

Honey looked bewildered. "But last night when I called Mother to see if she'd heard from you and Daddy, she mentioned nothing about Jonesy? She only said that you were in New York on business and that you wouldn't be back until later today sometime."

"When Dad called, no one picked up the phone," Jim revealed. "He left a message. You know Dad. He kept it brief. He just said we were in a meeting, and it was going to run late, so we'd spend the night at the penthouse."

Trixie folded her legs underneath her on the couch. "Go ahead and tell them about the will," she urged restlessly.

Jim laughed. "I'm getting there."

"In case you haven't guessed, I filled Trixie in while you were at the store. And I'm glad I did too." He picked up the throw pillow on the couch beside him and poked at it unconsciously. "Believe it or not," he went on, "I've inherited Jonesy's truck farm."

Mart's eyes lit up. "Wow, Jim, that's pretty neat. Have you given much thought to what you'll do with it?"

"If I had your green thumb, I might consider holding on to it," Jim replied honestly. "I did think about building my school on the property - but I wasn't comfortable with the idea. I had a lot of bad times there."

"That's when I suggested he use Ten Acres instead," Trixie interrupted.

The teenagers put the pieces together, and Trixie blushed yet again. The red in her cheeks only deepened as Jim smiled and said, "Leave it to Trixie to come up with a better solution."

Brian patted his sister on the back. "She usually does," he said loyally.

Honey couldn't agree more. "Does this mean you'll sell the farm?" she asked her brother.

"Probably so," Jim replied," but the house will need some repairs and a good cleaning first. It wasn't in the best of shape when I left, and I'm sure it didn't get any better. I also want to go through any of my mother's things that might remain. Jonesy's stuff can be put up for auction or donated to charity. Since we are out of school next week for Spring Break, I thought it might be a good time to run up there."

He paused and looked from face to face. "Do you think I might be able to enlist the Bob-Whites' help?"

Brian pondered Jim's proposal. "It sounds like a worthwhile project to me," he remarked. "But I'm worried Trixie might veto the idea, Jim. Housework isn't one of her favorite activities, you know."

Brian flipped a wink at his sister. It was common knowledge that Trixie despised housework of any kind, but Brian guessed she'd already volunteered the B.W.G.s help. Not just because she was fond of Jim, but because she saw the trip as an adventure - and Trixie thrived on adventure.

Jim pretended to be worried. "Gee, Brian. Do you think she'd change her mind if I told her the house might hold an old mystery?"