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joke has been accomplished.”
    “I don’t understand,” Honey said, bewildered.
    Mart put his hand on her shoulder and pointed at Crimper’s roof. “There,” he said, “is the staree.
    And there,” he swung his arm, “is the star er. ”
    The Bob-Whites saw someone standing on the sidewalk’s edge, convulsed with laughter.
    Suddenly Trixie’s eyes widened as she noticed his bicycle parked at the curb behind him. Strapped to its rear rack was a can of black spray paint, obviously just purchased.
    “And that,” said Mart, “is who I think is causing all the trouble. That, Trix, is the Midnight Marauder.”
    And he pointed straight at Lester Mundy!

Inside Crimper’s ● 6

    MART’S ANNOUNCEMENT took Trixie completely by surprise. She wasn’t sure exactly what it was she’d expected him to tell her, but it certainly wasn’t this.
    Brian obviously hadn’t been expecting this, either. He frowned at his brother. “Are you sure about that statement you’ve just made, Mart?” he asked sharply. “That’s a serious accusation.”
    “And if it’s true,” Dan said, “you ought to turn right around and march back to the police station. Sergeant Molinson will want to know everything about it.”
    “Of course I’m not sure,” Mart retorted. His arm dropped slowly to his side. “If I was sure, don’t you think I’d have told someone about it before now? The thing is, you see, I can’t prove anything. As I told you, I think it’s Lester. On the other hand, it could just as well be Shrimpy Davis —or Marvin Easton—or Ruthie Kettner— or—” Trixie gasped. “Ruthie Kettner? But that’s impossible!”
    “The whole thing’s impossible, Trix,” Mart answered. He watched as Lester, still grinning, suddenly jumped on his bike and sped away.
    Honey looked as bewildered as Trixie felt. “I know Ruthie Kettner,” she said, “but who are those other people you’ve just named? Why do you suspect them? And why are you so worried?“
    “Come on, Mart,” Jim said. “You can tell us. It’ll make you feel better. Why did Sergeant Molinson bring you down here for questioning? Why should he think you were responsible for all this vandalism that’s going on? He can’t think you’re guilty.”
    “I’m afraid he does,” Mart replied, gazing around at the circle of concerned faces. “And what’s more—” he swallowed hard—“he’s right.” Afterward Trixie found that she could remember almost every detail of that morning. The sun, which had shone so brightly at the day’s beginning, was now covered by gray, billowy clouds that scudded across the sky.
    A sudden chill gust of wind swirled across the town square. It caused the people standing in front of Crimper’s to clutch at hats and head scarves and to pull their coats tightly around them.
    Already the crowd was dispersing, though several people, reluctant to believe that there was absolutely nothing to see, still turned their heads to stare upward.
    It was Brian who took charge after Mart’s second startling announcement. “We need to talk,” he said, “privately.”
    “And right now,” Trixie added. “Let’s go to Wimpy’s—”
    But already Brian was shaking his head. “Wimpy’s is closed for today,” he said. “The vandal made a mess of the place.”
    “We could go home,” Di suggested.
    “Or we could go in here,” Honey said, nodding toward Crimper’s front entrance.
    Trixie knew that her friend was thinking of the small, old-fashioned dining room on the second floor, which catered to many of Sleepyside’s older residents.
    “I vote that we go home,” she said promptly. “We can cook hot dogs and make hot chocolate— and Mart can explain everything.”
    In the end, it was the weather that put an end to all further discussion. The sky darkened, and it began to rain, lightly at first, then harder.
    The Bob-Whites hesitated no longer. They made a dive for the department store’s front entrance and hurried