Case Files 3#
A Damsel in Distress
Trixie Belden shifted slightly in her chair, which was positioned in the corner of the office of SOLVED, Ben Riker’s, Private Investigation Agency. One of the advantages of working—if you could call it that—for a rich, spoiled, semi-brat, was that the offices his parents had organized for his business were spacious, stylish (according to Honey, anyway), and in a decent neighborhood. It was a far cry from what she and Honey had planned, but it was better than not working as investigators. Forcing herself to concentrate, she sat up straight and directed her attention towards Ben—who was looking far more interested than he usually did.
“I just didn’t know who else to turn to. A friend gave me your name. She says you’re the best there is.”
Trixie’s pert nose wrinkled as she surreptitiously studied the woman who sat opposite Ben Riker and had just finished outlining her problem regarding a missing relative.
Their new potential client was both slender and curvy, something Trixie and Honey both found vaguely irritating. Dark red hair framed her delicately tear-stained face and her silk clad ankles were elegantly crossed.
“We do like to pride ourselves on the quality of our work and commitment to our clients,” Ben said. “I, personally, insist on it.”
A sound, somewhere in between a cough and a snort, escaped Trixie’s lips. Ben shot her a dark look.
“Miss Belden, can you drop this file into the 16th Precinct? And send Miss Wheeler in instead? With some coffee for our guest.”
Trixie bit back the retort that automatically sprang to her lips and nodded. She exited the office, remembering not to slam the door.
“Problem?” Honey queried, looking up from the typewriter on her desk.
“What makes you ask that?” Trixie demanded.
“My well-honed detective skills,” Honey replied drily. “Or maybe it’s just your face.”
“My face!” Trixie glared at her friend.
“Yes, your face. Trust me, I don’t think poker would be your game.”
“Your face is just as bad,” Trixie grumped.
“No argument there.” Honey’s hazel eyes glinted with amusement. “Now, what’s up?”
“His royal pain in the butt threw me out. He wants you instead.”
“Okay,” Honey said, a slight frown wrinkling her brow. “Any particular reason?”
“His delicate flower of a client must need handling with kid gloves, I guess,” Trixie said. “Not that I said anything or did anything.”
“But…?” Honey prompted, knowing there was more.
“I don’t particularly like her,” Trixie allowed. “You know how I feel about the trembling lips and fluttering eyelash brigade. And maybe I’m just being extra suspicious but I’m not sure I entirely trust her story either.”
“Extra suspicious? You?” Honey’s lips quirked.
Trixie grinned before responding with. “Weird, huh?”
“Very,” Honey agreed. “Now, do you have any other instructions for
me?”
“Oh, shoot.” Trixie clutched her sandy curls. “You need to make coffee and take it in with you. I should have started with that.”
“Oh, shoot, I didn’t get a chance to get coffee organized in his office. But I’ve got a pot of coffee on our stove,” Honey said, getting to her feet.
“Of course, you have,” Trixie observed morosely. “You’re such an efficient girl Friday.”
“Who happens to like her coffee,” Honey reminded her. “There’s plenty for you, too.”
“And donuts?” Trixie asked hopefully.
“You’re impossible.” Honey disappeared into the kitchenette and Trixie grinned again.
“Probably am,” she said. “But I bet I’m right. Second breakfast here I come.”
Honey, who freely admitted she was naturally less suspicious than her best friend, found herself agreeing, at least to some extent, with Trixie about Lydia Fairmont, the woman in Ben’s office. Though she couldn’t really say why.
Her tale of a beloved Aunt who’d come to the big city after a falling out with her conservative mid-western family, sounded reasonable enough. In fact, it was an all too familiar story, and one that saddened Honey, who still had no liking for family drama and conflict.
The trouble with Trixie and me, she thought, is that our views are tainted by people like Laura Ramsay and that fake Juliana. People who were pretending to be one thing and were another entirely.
“I just don’t know what to do.” Lydia took another sip of her coffee before placing the cup and saucer on the edge of Ben’s desk. “The truth is, I’m not sure Aunt Rose wants to be found. Her mother, my grandmother said terrible things to her— things that would be hard to forgive or forget. It’s a very strict household. Not one my Aunt would want to return to.
“But still,” Honey said, when Ben remained silent. “Surely she wouldn’t be alarmed if she realized you were the one looking for her? According to Trixie’s notes, the two of you were close.” Trixie had not recorded a lot of information but she had noted the missing woman’s age, the date she had last made contact and the fact that the woman in their office and the missing woman were close to one another. ‘Beloved’, Trixie had written and underlined.
“Well, that is true,” Lydia admitted. “She’s nineteen years older than I am. My mother was more than ten years older than Aunt Rose. So, after my parents died, Rose sort of brought me up.”
“This must be so hard for you,” Ben said sympathetically, winning a smile from their client.
“It is,” she admitted. “But anyway, while I do think she would be willing to see me, she might not entirely trust that my grandmother wasn’t behind the search. My grandmother is a very domineering woman. And Aunt Rose was always a little fragile.”
“Does she know that you’re here?” Honey asked. “Your grandmother, I mean.”
“Of course not!” Lydia looked horrified. “She’d be furious.”
“So where does she think you are?” Honey continued.
Lydia Fairmont trembled and raised the handkerchief she was clutching to her face. “You’ve no idea how strict she is,” she whispered.
“So, she believes that you’re….” Honey prodded, ignoring the dark look Ben shot at her.
“I’m sure it has been very distressing for Miss Fairmont to have to deceive her grandmother,” he said swiftly. “Obviously, she is not, naturally, a duplicitous person. So, under the circumstances, I think we should be concentrating our questions on Lydia’s missing aunt.”
That told me, Honey thought. “Fine,” she said aloud. “Now, what exactly can you tell us?”
Trixie drank her coffee and ate her donut before she began filing the paperwork regarding their most recently completed cases. The whole file to the 16th precinct was totally bogus and typically Ben. There was no 16th precinct—you’d think he could at least get that part right. What if his fragile new client knew that? What would she think? Then again, the likelihood of Lydia Fairmont knowing about anything about police precincts was pretty slim. Maybe she was off-base, but there was something about the woman that bothered Trixie. She knew her tendency towards suspecting everyone was still a vague source of amusement for her family and friends. But they did at least acknowledge that she was more often right than wrong. “Still,” she mused aloud. “I need to see a) what Honey thinks and b) what evidence we turn up before I let my prejudices take over.” She even managed to offer both sympathy and a promise of assistance when Ben showed Lydia Fairmont out of the office some twenty minutes later. He was obviously walking her to her car or her hotel or possibly lunch, because after ten minutes there was no sign of him, and Trixie went into Ben’s office where Honey was seated behind their boss’s desk.
“I’m almost finished here,” Honey explained. “I was going to come out and go over things with you.”
“So,” Trixie perched on the edge of the desk. “Am I being my usual over-suspicious self?”
“Yes,” Honey returned promptly. “And, as usual, you’re more likely to be right than wrong, in my opinion.”
“Really?” Trixie grinned. “You don’t trust her, either?”
“Not entirely,” Honey admitted. “There was just something that didn’t feel right. I mean she kind of reminded me of Laura Ramsay.”
Trixie shuddered. “It’s uncanny how much we think alike.”
“And the fake Juliana,” Honey continued. “But that might be making me more suspicious that I should be. Her story could easily be true.”
Trixie slid off the desk. “You know, sometimes, your habit of looking at both sides of things can be very irritating.”
Honey raised her brows. “Well, I can see how hard that must make things for you. I’ll try to do better.”
“You do that.” Trixie took a couple of steps towards the office door, her expression hovering between impish and wary. “Still, she hasn’t made it easy for us. A photograph would have made it a lot easier.”
“I know. I can’t imagine my grandmother removing all of mother’s photographs from the house—even if they did have a falling out. And my grandmother is fairly domineering, too.”
“At least we have a description. It’s something.”
“Anyway…” Honey gathered the notes before her and stood up. “I think you and I can make a start on this. Gathering information is exactly the same whether we think the client is telling the truth or not. It’s sharing the information that matters.”
“So true, partner dear. But I’d bet a week’s wages that something is up with Miss Lydia Fairmont.”
“Not exactly a tempting bet, considering,” Honey returned.
“You have a point.” Trixie held the door open for her friend. “Remind me to ask for a pay raise.”
***
“No wonder poor Lydia was skeptical.” Ben’s gaze fixed on Trixie. “She asked me if you were some high school kid, I was doing a favor for. You certainly dress like one. I thought you two were supposed to be good at this stuff.” Ben pushed back his chair from his desk and stood, pacing back and forth.
“It’s only been one afternoon,” Honey replied before Trixie could haul off and hit him.
“And, so far, you have a big fat nothing.”
“Maybe there’s nothing to find,” Trixie snapped.
Ben frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean? There has to be something. Her aunt can’t have disappeared into thin air. And Lydia is desperate to find her. She’s broken-hearted. She’s a very sensitive woman.”
“How desperate can she be? Her Aunt’s been missing for over a decade.” Trixie said.
“She was very young then. And her grandmother has had a strong hold over her, too—her whole life, virtually. What exactly did you expect her to do?”
“That’s understandable, but we do need more time,” Honey said before Trixie could respond. “The details are sketchy. There are quite a few Fairmonts we still need to check on. And we haven’t even begun to look at anyone outside the area—”
“Lydia was sure her aunt still lived locally,” Ben said with a frown.
“How could she know that if they haven’t had any contact?” Trixie demanded.
“When we had lunch, she remembered how her aunt had talked about wanting to live here. How it was a dream of hers. Why would she leave?”
“Either way, we need more time, Ben. Sorry, but we do.” Honey spoke calmly, which made one calm person in the room.
“Fine, but this is your one and only priority for the next couple of days, got it?”
Trixie opened her mouth, but Honey spoke first. “Got it,” she said. “Now, we’re going to need a few things from you.”
“Are you sure I can’t kill him? Trixie demanded. “I promise I’d make a plan and everything.”
Honey’s lips twitched. “While I have every faith that with your knowledge and skill you could successfully plan a murder, I think it could prove a little more complicated than that.”
“I’m so torn!” Trixie said as she packed her camera, grabbed her purse and jacket, and headed out of their building. “Part of me wants to smack his stupid face hard, but the other part of me is so impressed with the fact that you managed to get us both out of the office for the next forty-eight hours with, what seems to me, an unlimited expense account.”
“I wouldn’t go that far.” Honey smiled at her friend. “But it was obvious that he was not going to listen to our thoughts or concerns, and this way we all get something out of it.”
“You are very wise sometimes.” Trixie unlocked the car, tossed her things in the back, jumped in and waited while Honey settled herself in the passenger seat. “So, partner, what exactly are we going to do?”
Honey thought for a moment. “Seeing that we’ve finished early, why don’t we go to Brian’s? We can go over our plans there.”
“Okay. So long as my brother has food. We barely even stopped for lunch. I cannot make plans without food.”
“Me either. There is plenty of food. Brian was raised by your mother. I promise we’ll be fine.”
Trixie turned the key in the ignition. “Let’s get on it, then.”
Plans and Perfectly Perfect Possibilities
Honey was not entirely wrong. While Trixie set up the tiny dining table with paper, pens and a couple of folders, Honey made them both sandwiches—ham and mustard, and tuna with mayo.
“Not exactly Moms’ fried chicken but it will do,” Trixie allowed, taking a bite out of a tuna sandwich and a sip from the strawberry pop Honey poured for her.
“Thanks a lot.” Honey shook her head at her best friend as she slid into the chair opposite and helped herself to half a ham and mustard sandwich.
“Oh, you know what I mean,” Trixie said, waving her pop, causing a few drops to spill on the table.
“Okay.” Honey opened the folder that contained the lists she’d made from the office of public records. “We still have another twenty something Fairmonts that fit the age of missing Aunt Rose.”
“Which means a lot of pavement pounding,” Trixie sighed. Her blue eyes narrowed as she scanned the list Honey handed her. “I hate to be the voice of doom, but no matter what Miss Lydia says, if Aunt Rose was so keen on escaping her family, surely she may have changed her name?”
Honey’s brows shot up and her hazel eyes filled with dismay. “That’s a horrible thought. A sensible thought, but a horrible one. We’d have thousands of people to go through instead of a couple of dozen. How could you do that to me?”
Trixie shrugged. “I’ve told you over and over again that sensible is way overrated. “Now, do you believe me?”
Honey laughed. “Good point. I suggest, for now, at least, that we stick to our list. If that fails then….”
“Then we can hand our new list over to our esteemed boss.” Trixie beamed. “I see that plan as win-win.”
After an hour or so of going through the names Honey had found and comparing them to the list Trixie had compiled from the City Directory, they had thirteen names to deal with.
“The best next step, I guess, is to get a city map and plot these addresses out, so we can approach our check logically.” Honey’s brows drew closer together as she studied the piece of paper.
“You and your logic,” Trixie sniffed. “You do spend too much time with Brian.”
“Not from where I sit.”
“Anyway,” Trixie continued, “considering our collective sense of direction, I was thinking, maybe we could head over to our place. Jim said he’d be home early today. You can call Brian and tell him to come over for dinner and, we can hand over these addresses to those two. Jim has the best sense of direction ever and Brian’s lived here in the city for ages now—they’ll work out the best route for us in no time.”
“Sounds reasonable,” Honey admitted with a smile.
“That’s me, alright,” Trixie sank back in her chair wearing a look of satisfaction. “Reasonable and sensible.”
“In the same day,” Honey marveled. “Will wonders never cease?”
***
“It seems like forever since the four of us had dinner,” Jim said as he took his seat at the dining table. The drapes were drawn against the evening chill and the wall sconces threw warm, yellow light across the table.
“I know I haven’t had Jim’s perfectly cooked steak for quite some time.” Brian cut appreciatively into his filet.
Trixie coughed and cleared her throat.
“Or my sister’s scrumptious scalloped potatoes, either.”
“What about Honey’s salad?”
“That, I may have had a little more recently,” Brian admitted. “Not that it makes it any less delicious.”
“He’s good,” Jim observed with a grin.
“Too good,” Trixie declared, though her blue eyes twinkled. “That’s always been the problem.”
“So, it sounds as if you two have an interesting new case on your hands,” Brian said, way too smart to respond to his sibling’s previous remark.
“Well, we’ve never actually looked for someone who’s been missing for almost ten years before,” Honey allowed, sampling her own steak. “It certainly involves more research.”
“It’s a great challenge, though,” Brian encouraged and Honey nodded.
“So, what’s the problem?” Jim asked, turning to his wife.
“Who says there’s a problem?” Trixie returned with a blink of her blue eyes.
“Me,” Jim said. “Just the way you referred to the client earlier and the look on Honey’s face, too.”
“See!” Trixie gestured excitedly to her best friend. “I told you your face was bad.”
“What?” Brian demanded, a slight frown marring his handsome face.
“It’s not actually a critique of my looks, per-say,” Honey explained with a smile.
“I should hope not.” Brian shook his dark head and waved his fork at his sister. “Elucidate, as our esteemed sibling would say.”
“There’s just something about this Lydia Fairmont,” Trixie said. “Something that doesn’t feel right. It’s hard to explain.”
“She sort of reminds us of Laura Ramsay,” Honey added.
“Oh,” Jim and Brian spoke as one.
“Well, you were certainly right about her,” Jim said carefully. “But that doesn’t necessarily mean….”
“What?” Trixie demanded. “What doesn’t it necessarily mean?”
“A little help?” Jim turned to Brian.
Brian took a moment before responding. “I think what Jim is trying to say that while your instincts are often spot on, they’re not infallible, so maybe try and deal with this on its own merits. This woman could still be unpleasant and not be lying. Or she might not be telling you everything, but the essence of her story might still be true.”
“Seriously?” Trixie opined. “Why am I surrounded by terminally sensible, reasonable people?”
“You’re very, very unlucky?” Brian said.
“I concede you have a point,” Trixie admitted. “I get a hinky vibe from this woman, but that may not mean that everything she’s saying is a lie. Truthful people can be just as annoying as liars.”
“Either way,” Honey said. “Our job is to track down Rose Fairmont. We can decide how much of what we find out we’ll be sharing, when we’ve found her.”
“Now that’s a sensible idea I can fully support.” Trixie waved her fork in the air, causing creamy potatoes to splatter her shirt. She grimaced, then wiped at the splodge with her finger before licking it with her tongue.
The talk turned to more mundane matters as the four tucked into their delicious dinner.
“So, this is the list you have for potential Rose Fairmonts?” Jim asked as the last scraps were scraped from each plate.
Trixie nodded. “We’ve been able to eliminate quite a few, but these we’ll need to check out in person—we’ve had to include Elizabeths as well, ‘cause that’s her middle name and she may be using it.”
“Okay,,” Brian said, “if it doesn’t land me in hot water, can I suggest Jim and I work out a route for you, while you two take care of the dishes?”
“As if that would land you in hot water?” Trixie sniffed. “It might get you a smack in the head, but hot water….?”
Jim laughed and Honey shook her head. “I think that would be fine. Unless, partner dear, you want to pour over street directories and map out our route?”
Trixie shuddered. “Even dishes are better than maps. I surrender.”
“If it makes you feel any better, I picked up a chocolate cheesecake from Berlini’s on my way here,” Brian said. “When we’re finished, Jim and I will serve dessert and take care of the rest of the clean-up.”
“Strangely enough that does make me feel better. You know, for a brother, you’re really not that bad.”
“High praise indeed.” Brian held out his hand and Jim passed him the list.
“We’ll leave you to it.” Honey gathered the plates and she and Trixie headed into the galley kitchen.
***
“I would not have known where half of these places were,” Trixie said, as Honey eased the car into a parking spot and turned off the ignition.
“I know,” Honey agreed. “I guess geography isn’t ever going to be our strong suit.”
So far, they had managed to cross off six of the women on their list, by either speaking to them directly or by interviewing neighbors. As they hopped out of the car and crossed the sidewalk, Honey pulled the belt of her coat tighter and shivered slightly. “It’s really chilly today.”
Trixie nodded, glancing around at the heavy gray skies that threatened rain in the near future. “Jim insisted I wear my scarf and cap this morning. Don’t tell him I said this, but I’m so glad I married him.”
“I don’t think that would come as news to him,” Honey observed drily.
Ten minutes later they were back in the car, feeling somewhat dejected. “Honestly, we’re not getting anywhere,” Trixie complained. “That’s the third place we’ll have to come back to.”
“It’s not like the movies, is it?” Honey agreed. “You know, one or two false leads and then bingo!”
“Well, when we were studying, experienced P.I.s warned us it was like this, I suppose.” Trixie settled back into the passenger’s seat, her expression rueful.
“Would it be absolutely awful of me to suggest we finish our list tomorrow?” Honey asked, as she eased the car out of its space. “The sky looks as if it’s about to fall, and I hate driving around in the rain.”
“To say nothing of how much you hate what it does to your hair,” Trixie teased.
“That’s true, too,” Honey admitted.
“It’s fine with me,” Trixie said. “We’ve all got dinner at Mart and Di’s tonight. We can always get their take on things, plus Mart’s newspaper contacts might come in handy.”
“I think you’re right. They’re both good sounding boards, and we can go over what we have so far before heading out again in the morning,” Honey said.
“Okay. Shall I make pancakes for breakfast? I think better with sustenance.”
“You sound just like Mart.” Honey laughed.
“Is that a yes or a no?”
“It’s a very definite yes.
Mart and Di had married just over a year earlier and Diana’s parents gift to them had been a deposit on a modest house in the suburbs. A very modest house, really, considering the Lynch wealth. But while Mart wanted his bride to be comfortable, he wasn’t overly keen about taking such a generous gift from his in-laws. A deposit on a small home was a compromise they could all live with.
When Jim pulled up outside the white frame house, Honey’s car was already parked in the driveway.
“Seriously, can’t she and Brian ever be late?” Trixie asked as Jim helped her out of the car.
“Well, we are right on time, so they must have been a little early,” Jim said, smiling down at his wife.
“It will be nice to see them,” Trixie said, switching from one couple to another, as they hurried up the path to the front door. “It’s been weeks.”
“Finally.” Mart Belden flung open the front door and greeted his sister and brother-in-law with open arms.
“We are exactly on time,” Trixie returned, giving her almost-twin a hug.
“I know that,” Mart said, ushering them inside and slamming the door behind him. “But Di wouldn’t even bring out the canapes or let me pour a drink until you we’re all here.”
“Poor you.” Trixie grinned. “Come on then, let’s put you out of your misery.”
It had been quite some time since all of the BWGs had gathered together. Greetings and hugs were exchanged and the seven settled in Mart and Di’s cozy living room. Although the room wasn’t huge, thoughtfully placed sofas and two chairs provided comfortable seating for all. Mart added a couple of logs to the brightly burning fire, while Di placed platters of canapes within easy reach of her guests.
“I’m so glad you could come, too.” Trixie beamed at Dan. “Though I bet if Molinson knew it was us you were hanging out with, he’d have left you on nightshift.”
Dan laughed. “He’s not actually that bad to work for, Trix. And while it might cost me my job if he heard this, he regularly admits you know your stuff.”
“I don’t suppose you could find a way to record that for me?” Trixie’s expression was hopeful.
“Pass,” Dan returned, accepting a glass of wine from his host. “I like my job.”
Trixie opted for a beer instead of wine and reached for a pastry from the platter on the coffee table. She bit into it and sighed happily. “This is scrumptious, Di. And fancy, too.” She nodded at the artistically arranged snacks.
“Not really,” Diana protested. “That’s a tomato and onion tart, the oblong ones are savoury cheese blintzes and the little round pies are chicken and leek.”
“Seriously, you could go into catering, if you get bored with the gallery.” Brian smiled at his sister-in-law. “These blintzes are great.”
“And I could eat a whole plate of these little chicken pies by myself,” Honey declared.
“I’d pay to see that,” Mart chuckled.
“She could do it, you know,” Trixie said. “She loves savory pies.”
“Well, I’m glad you all like them,” Di said, taking a seat next to Mart. “I actually decided it would be nice if we could all just sit around and chat, rather than eat at a table, so I’ve made lots of little things, rather than a big meal.”
“What a good idea,” Honey cried. “It’s like an indoor picnic. You are very clever, Di.”
Diana laughed. “I wouldn’t say that.”
“No,” Mart said, dropping a kiss on his wife’s head. “You are far too modest for that, but Honey is correct.”
“I second that,” Jim said. “It’s really good to see you guys.”
“I can’t believe how quickly the time is going.” Diana shook her dark head. “Our parents were right when they said time goes faster the older you are.”
“Imagine what it’ll be like when we’re eighty,” Dan laughed.
“One thing I know,” Trixie announced, reaching for another tart, “is that our get-togethers will always involve good friends and delicious foods—who could ask more of their future than that?’
“Would you like more wine, Honey?” Mart asked, once the platters had been cleared away and replaced with trays of fudge brownies and mini-cupcakes.
“Maybe, just a little,” Honey replied. Mart obliged and tuned his attention to Jim.
“You might top up your wife’s glass,” Trixie admonished, waving a cupcake.
Di shook her head and Brian said. “Di isn’t drinking wine, Trix. Are your infamous observational skills taking a holiday? She’s been drinking juice all evening….” He trailed off, his dark eyes widening.
Diana smiled at the expression on his face and Honey’s gaze shifted from her boyfriend to her friend. “Oh, oh,” she cried.
“Oh, oh, what?” Trixie demanded. “Oh!”
“It’s catchy,” Dan said with a laugh, then he, too shifted in his chair.
“I must be slow coming to this party,” Jim said. “What’s with all the expectant faces?”
“Not the faces that are expecting,” Mart corrected.
“Holy cow!” Jim said, green eyes bright.
“I hope not,” Diana said.
“I can’t believe it. I can’t believe it.” Trixie found herself blinking back tears.
“Believe it, Sis,” Mart said, though his own eyes glistened. “Di is three months pregnant.”
“Three months! You must have known for ages,” Trixie said.
“It’s best to wait until after the first trimester,” Brian said knowledgably.
“Well, I’m sure glad you told us now.” Dan lifted his glass. “Let’s drink to Mart and Di and to a new family member on the way.”
Honey nodded and her own hazel eyes shone. “A baby Bob-White. Isn’t it wonderful?”
Details and Discoveries
The following morning, over pancakes and bacon, Trixie and Honey reviewed their case notes.
"Honestly, I am just so excited about being an aunt, it's hard to concentrate this morning," Trixie opined. "Moms and I talked last night and she and dad are over the moon."
"Of course they are," Honey said. "Another Belden just makes the world a better place."
"I'll be happy when you're one, too," Trixie returned with a grin.
"Let's get back to the case, shall we?" Honey shook her head and did not quite manage to hide her smile.
“I wish I knew why this whole thing doesn’t sit well with me,” Trixie said. “Is it just the fact that women like Lydia Fairmont annoy me? Make me feel like an awkward teenager?”
“No, of course not,” Honey returned swiftly. “I’m not saying it doesn’t have some effect on your opinion, but the very fact that you can ask that, Trix, suggests, to me, anyway, that’s it more than that.”
“Thanks.” Trixie said. “At least I managed to grab Dan and fill him in on what we were doing. After Di and Mart told us they were having a baby, I completely forgot to talk about the case with them.”
“Me, too. A new arrival is pretty exciting, after all. I’ve already started knitting a matinee jacket.”
Trixie snorted. “It might be a while before a baby needs a jacket to go to a matinee.”
Honey shot her friend a knowing look. “Trixie Belden, I know that you know exactly what a matinee jacket is.”
“Sure I do,” Trixie returned. “Aunt Alicia probably knitted about a million of them for all of us when we were kids. Guess what color mine were? Thanks very much, but I already know all I need to about those garments. You can have them.”
Honey laughed. “Well, I wasn’t about to suggest a matinee jacket knitting club.”
“Thank goodness for that. Now, we need to get back to the case.”
Honey straightened the papers on the table. “Did Dan say he could help?”
“He wasn’t sure what he could do, but he said he could discreetly check out Lydia Fairmont’s story.” Trixie pushed back her chair and crossed to the stove to pour herself another cup of coffee. She held up the pot and inclined it toward Honey when the phone rang. Placing the pot back on the stove, she reached over to answer it. “Hello.” She listened for a moment. “For your information, we have been working over breakfast. It is only just after eight.” She rolled her eyes in Honey’s direction. “Sure, she’s here. I’ll get her for you.”
Honey came to take the receiver from her friend. “Hello, Ben. We are making progress but, as I explained, with so little to go on, these things can take time.”
Trixie made a series of faces as her friend listened to their so-called boss. Finally, Honey shrugged her shoulders. “There really isn’t anything concrete to share, but if that’s what you want, we can give you fifteen minutes in twenty or so.”
Trixie didn’t need to find out what Ben thought of that, she could hear him spluttering and complaining, clearly enough.
“I do appreciate that,” Honey replied calmly, “but the longer we spend briefing you, the longer the search is going to take. So, let’s say the diner opposite the office in twenty minutes. See you there.”
Trixie took the phone from her friend and replaced it in the cradle. “Have I told you lately how much I love and admire you?”
Honey laughed. “I thought you might kick me. We have to report into Ben.”
“Yeah, but on our terms and that’s as good as it gets.”
Ben, and Lydia Fairmont were waiting for them when they arrived, telling Trixie that the pair must have been in the office when Ben called. She followed Honey to the booth in the corner and the two of them slid into place, opposite Ben and their client. Lydia Fairmont was perfectly pale, the only color in her face in her heavily lashed and darkened blue eyes, and the slash of crimson lipstick on her mouth. Her dark red hair fell about her shoulders in carefully styled waves. She looked beautiful, troubled and, to Trixie, entirely fake.
Greetings were exchanged and Trixie and Honey both ordered coffee and muffins.
“Are you sure I can’t tempt you to order something?” Ben asked, regarding their client with concern.
“Thank you, no. I just don’t seem to have any appetite at the moment. Another coffee would be welcome, though.”
Ben nodded and placed the order. “Understandably, Lydia…Miss Fairmont is very anxious for an update,” he said.
“We appreciate that,” Honey returned. She and Trixie had agreed in the car on the way to the diner that she would do the talking.
“I might be tempted to throw something at him, or pull her hair,” Trixie said. “But if I think you’re getting over-sharey, I’ll kick you.”
“Something to look forward to,” Honey replied. “We couldn’t just have a code word?”
“Kicking is so much more effective,” Trixie said, putting an end to the discussion.
“Ben has told me how efficiently you both work under his direction, so I was hoping for some news.”
Trixie pressed her lips together, remembering her promise.
“I realize that, Miss Fairmont,” Honey said smoothly. “And I’m sure, as an experienced investigator, Mr. Riker has explained the intricacies involved when searching for someone—especially when they may not want to be found.”
“Lydia has told me so much about her childhood. You can’t begin to appreciate how close she and her aunt were,” Ben said.
Trixie wisely concentrated on the muffin the waitress had brought to the table. And, after a taking a mouthful of her own muffin, Honey nodded her head sympathetically. “Trust me, we do understand. But there’s a lot of information to go through.” She consulted the folder before her on the table, and went through some of the steps they had taken.
Trixie continued eating her muffin and sipping her coffee, smothering a smile as Ben nodded and murmured vague approval. Honey had an uncanny ability to make it seem as if she were sharing a lot of details, when in fact she really wasn’t giving much away at all.
“But we…you are making progress, right?” Ben said, finally.
“Yes, we are,” Honey replied. “It took us some time to check death certificates—and I’m glad to tell you that no one fitted with your aunt’s details— then we compiled a list of viable candidates. We have already significantly reduced that list.”
“So, you’re getting close?” Lydia Fairmont leaned across the table eagerly. “I mean do you have a strong possible lead? Perhaps I could see your list? I’m quite sensitive, actually. And Aunt Rose and I were close. Maybe someone will jump out at me.”
“That sounds like a good idea.” Ben reached for the folder Honey had in front of her, but Honey kept her hand on it and shook her head regretfully.
“I so sympathize with you. I really do. But we do have a policy of confidentiality and precision at SOLVED, and we need to ensure that we pass on the correct information to you. I’m sure you understand.”
“Yes, of course,” Lydia responded. “I’m just so anxious. And now, because of all of you, seeing my beloved aunt again, is a very real possibility. I’ll just have to be patient.”
“You won’t have too long to wait for news. I promise.” Ben pressed her hand with his own.
Trixie shifted in her chair, but a swift, albeit gentle kick, from Honey under the table, kept her quiet.
“We’ll get back to it, then,” Honey said, easing herself out of the booth. “We’ll call when we have an update.”
Trixie slid out after her friend and, with a quick nod at Ben and Lydia, led the way out of the diner.
***
“Do you think I’ll ever change?” Trixie asked that evening as she placed the tuna noodle casserole on the table, and took her seat opposite her husband.
“I hope not,” Jim returned swiftly. “I happen to love you exactly as you are.”
His wife laughed and spooned the tasty dish onto each of their plates. “You really are a very good husband, you know.”
“I do my best,” Jim acknowledged, adding salad to their plates. “But what is that that you think needs to change?”
“Well,” Trixie forked some casserole into her mouth, chewed and swallowed before responding. “I honestly believe that having a suspicious nature is generally a good thing in my line of work.”
“Agreed.”
“But do I take it too far? Do I let past events and people dictate what I think and do?”
“Trix, we all do that. We can’t process information or analyze situations, without doing it. But, in spite of the fact that you might sometimes jump to conclusions, you always go back over what you know and you question yourself. You’re a born detective and the more you do it, the better you get at it. If you have a bad feeling about someone, my guess is, there’s something to it. Whether it makes the person a ‘bad guy’ or just less than honest, I can’t say.”
“How do you do that?” Trixie asked.
“Do what?”
“Manage to be completely reasonable, kind of reassuring, but subtly keeping me in line—all at once.”
“Pretty sure no one, including me, can do that last thing, but I guess I’ll just say, it comes naturally.”
Trixie smiled and slid into his arms. “I do like natural you. I really do.”
“Good to know,” Jim returned, tightening his embrace. “Now, what do you say to getting a whole lot more natural?”
***
Trixie and Honey met at the agency at seven-forty-five. Honey switched on the heating and slipped off her calf length woolen coat. Trixie tossed her own jacket over the back of a chair and shook her sandy curls. “How do you do that, exactly?”
“Do what?” Honey asked, a perplexed frown creasing her brow.
“Turn up every day, looking like that?” She gestured towards Honey’s dark brown wide-legged trousers, which were teamed with a fine knit cream sweater and a matching cropped jacket.
“It’s just clothes, Trix.”
“No,” Trixie corrected. “These are just clothes.” She ran her hand over her dark blue dungarees and pale blue, heavy, cable knit, sweater. “Yours are outfits.”
“Fine. I like outfits,” Honey admitted. “I still like jeans, too, but for work, I like outfits.”
“Sometimes, I wish I did, too,” Trixie said. “You look so put together. Maybe we can swap looks sometime.”
Honey raised her brows. “Do I need to remind you how well it turned out last time you tried to look like me and I tried to look like you? We almost ended up in a watery grave in the Hudson.”
Trixie laughed. “Why, that’s right, partner. You make an excellent point. I guess Lydia Fairmont’s crack got to me, which is dumb.”
“Yes, it is,” Honey said sternly. “Even if she’s completely above board with what she has us doing, her opinion is pretty much irrelevant. Now let’s get to work.”
She prepared coffee while Trixie organized their notes and checked their findings against the file. Less than fifteen minutes later, they were sipping coffee and planning their next move.
“I’m pretty sure we’re right, Trix. The age, the description—everything fits.”
Trixie nodded, causing her sandy curls to bounce. “I think we should either go back this evening, or go to her work this afternoon. The neighbor seemed to think she was working today.”
“I know. I’m just not sure which place would be better? Maybe it would be hard for her to talk at work. And maybe if wait until she comes home, she may not come home this evening.”
“Either way,” Trixie said, standing and crossing to the kitchenette and the coffee pot. She raised her voice slightly. “By the end of the day we should have found Rose Fairmont and that means—”
“You found her? You actually know where she is?”
Both women spun around to see Ben standing in the doorway.
“Well,” Honey said. “We think we might have.”
“About time,” Ben snapped. “Finally, I can put Lydia’s mind at rest. I need to let her know.”
“Darn. Double darn,” Trixie said as Ben stalked away. “Me and my big fat mouth.”
“It’s not your fault,” Honey consoled her. “Ben is never in this early. You couldn’t possible have expected him to overhear us.”
“Not sure that makes me feel any better.”
“We didn’t say where exactly he could find Rose.”
“But he knows we’re definitely on her trail,” Trixie said, frowning. “And I’d bet a year’s supply of donuts that he’s high-tailing over to that woman to tell her all about it.”
“I’m sure you’re right, Trix. But, as usual, Ben is proving he’s not the detective you are.”
“He is?” Trixie’s expression was vaguely hopeful.
Honey nodded her head emphatically. “He knows we’re close to finding Rose. He knows we know where to go next.”
“How are they good things?” Trixie demanded.
“He didn’t wait to get any details. All he really knows, all he can really tell Lydia Fairmont is that we do know something.”
“And he’s bound to bring her straight back here.” Trixie’s blue eyes narrowed.
“I’m guessing you’re right. So that means….”
“That means we won’t be here when he does,” Trixie said, a slow smile forming on her face.
“Excellent idea,” Honey agreed. “After all, we still have lots of investigating to do.”
Fairmonts and Families
The Wilmington Public Library was housed in an old red brick building. Row upon row of books stretched out in huge stacks. Long, narrow tables held antique lamps and two spiral staircases, one at either end of the huge room, led to the second story of reference books.
The description Lydia Fairmont had provided made it easy enough to recognize Rose Fairmont. Tall and slender with an angular face that was more interesting than pretty. Her once long dark red hair had been cut so that it just barely brushed against her jawline, but the widow’s peak, Lydia had mentioned was very much in evidence.
She turned to see them approaching and offered a welcoming smile. “How can I help you?” she asked.
“We were hoping to speak to you for a moment, Miss Fairmont,” Honey said.
“What about?” the older woman’s gaze shifted from Honey to Trixie and back again, her expression shifting from welcoming to neutral.
“Family,” Trixie said simply.
Rose Fairmont’s expression shifted again—this time to guarded. “I’m sorry. I’m busy. I’m working, and I have no family.”
“Everyone has family—of a sort,” Trixie said.
“Please, Miss Fairmont. We don’t mean to upset you. We just want to talk. If you don’t like what we have to say, we’ll go away and leave you in peace.” Honey’s soft tone and gentle demeanor seemed to relax the older woman a little.
“I suppose talking can’t hurt,” Rose said. “I have a break in about twenty minutes, if you don’t mind waiting.”
“Of course we don’t,” Trixie reassured her.
“There’s a café a couple of doors down. We can meet there.”
“Thank you, Miss Fairmont. I promise we won’t take up too much of your time,” Honey said.
The librarian nodded and her attention turned to a pile of books on the desk.
The café was warm and cozy and Trixie and Honey both ordered coffee while they waited for Rose.
“I’m gonna be very disappointed if it isn’t her,” Trixie admitted.
“Me, too,” Honey agreed. “But I have a feeling…”
“So, do I,” Trixie said, blue eyes bright. “I know people sometimes pooh-pooh our feelings, but….”
“Exactly.” Honey took a sip of her coffee.
“Here she comes,” Trixie hissed, nodding towards the door. “We should know soon enough.”
Rose Fairmont slipped into the booth opposite the two young women and accepted their offer of coffee and a sandwich. Trixie and Honey ordered sandwiches, too and gratefully accepted top ups of their coffee.
Once they had been served, Trixie gave Honey an almost imperceptible nod. The latter opened the folder she carried with her.
“Miss Fairmont, I realize, it must be disconcerting to have two strangers come into your workplace and ask to speak to you. My name is Honey Wheeler and this is Trixie Belden and we work for a private investigator.”
“A private investigator?” Rose’s eyes narrowed. “What would a private investigator want with me?”
“Are you originally from Nebraska, Miss Fairmont?”
“Why do you want to know where I’m from?” the older woman asked, her tone and expression neutral.
“Everyone comes from somewhere,” Honey said, her tone soft and somehow reassuring. “Even if, sometimes, they wish they didn’t.”
“That’s true enough,” the older woman acknowledged. “But I still don’t see why you want to know where I am from.”
“I guess I’d feel the same way as you in your place,” Trixie said. “Honey meant it when she said if you want us to just go away after we’ve talked to you, we will. But please, hear us out.”
Rose Fairmont shifted her gaze from Trixie to Honey then, after a moment, nodded her head. “Alright. I’ll listen to what you have to say.”
“If you’re the Rose Fairmont we’re looking for—Rose Fairmont from Lincoln, Nebraska, then we need to tell you that one of your family members is trying to find you.” Trixie said.
“I told you I don’t have a family.” Rose’s eyes narrowed.
“Families can be complicated. Sometimes blood isn’t the strongest tie,” Honey observed.
“I guess that’s true enough.”
“Honestly, Miss Fairmont. If you don’t want contact from your family, we will respect that, I promise.” Trixie’s blue eyes were serious. “But the easiest way to get rid of us might be to tell us what we want to know.”
“Say I am the Rose Fairmont you’re looking for, who exactly is trying to find me?”
“The woman who asked us to look for you, or for Rose Fairmont from Nebraska, is named Lydia.” Trixie informed her.
“Lydia?” For the first time, Rose’s expression softened. “Not Miriam?”
“According to Lydia, Miriam Fairmont knows nothing about her search. And she has no intention of telling her anything. Lydia claims you’re her aunt and that she just wants to know that you’re okay.”
“What’s she like, this Lydia?”
Trixie and Honey exchanged looks and, after a moment, the latter responded. “Attractive mid to late twenties. She seems very fond of you—of Rose.”
“Lydia—all grown up.” Rose took a deep breath. “I guess I knew this would happen one day. I’m not sure how to respond. I’ve been away from my family for a long time. I need time to think.”
“Of course you do,” Honey said swiftly. “This must have come as a shock.”
“Why don’t you think about it overnight. If you want to make contact, we could meet here for breakfast in the morning—just the three of us, I mean,” Trixie suggested. “If you don’t come, we’ll know you don’t want to be found.”
Rose raised her eyebrows. “But if you’ve been paid to look for me and can’t produce me, won’t that cause you problems?”
“No more than usual,” Trixie said.
“We take people’s privacy very seriously,” Honey added, suppressing a smile. “We can work it out.”
“That sounds very reasonable.” Rose shrugged her shoulders. “I’m not sure why but I trust you—both of you.”
“You have our word,” Trixie promised.
“I believe you.”
“Let’s make a plan, shall we?” Honey suggested and Rose Fairmont nodded.
***
“And you really are okay with Honey flying solo on this reunion, Trix?” Brian handed his sister a brown paper bag and smiled as she happily unwrapped her cheese burger and took a big bite out of it.
Trixie finished her mouthful and nodded. “I rub Lydia the wrong way or she rubs me the wrong way—however you look at it, there’s rubbing and none of it will make it any easier on Rose.”
Jim tousled his wife’s curls affectionately. “You’re something, you know.”
Trixie grinned. “I’m pretty sure everyone I’ve ever met would agree with that. Whether they’d agree on what that something is—that’s a whole other story.”
“You know what I mean,” Jim chided.
“I just can’t shake the feeling that there’s something off about her and her story. I am glad we called the paper in Nebraska. It’s been hard not being able to contact anyone from there. I’d rather they’d set up the meeting for tomorrow but Lydia was insistent it be today.”
“Rose did seem okay with that, though?” Brian asked.
“Yes. Once she’d spoken to Lydia on the phone and was assured her mother knew nothing about it, she seemed to relax a little. And having Honey with her will make her even more relaxed. I know how comforting she is. It was the best thing for it to just be the two of them.”
“I know how hard it is for you to step back, Trix. I’m proud of you.” Jim said.
“I’m proud of me, too,” Trixie agreed. “But honestly, that girl, woman, whatever—she sets my teeth on edge, and Ben is even more drippy around her than usual, so I don’t think my motives are entirely noble and self-sacrificing.”
“But they’re a little noble and self-sacrificing, right?” Brian said and his sister nodded.
“Then let’s celebrate you with a pile of fries and chocolate shakes.”
Trixie smiled happily. “You always were my favorite brother.”
“According to Mart he is your favorite brother. At least he was last week.”
Trixie frowned, then her expression cleared. “Oh, right chili dogs at the game, and he sent me home with a bag of Di’s brownies.”
“We had a bag of Di’s brownies?” Jim said.
Trixie shrugged and blinked her blue eyes innocently. “It was probably your sister. You know what she’s like.”
“I know she’s not going to be impressed that we had burgers and fries without her,” Jim acknowledged.
“I’m so glad we all like to eat,” Trixie said. “That’s another annoying thing about that woman—‘Just coffee for me. I can never eat when I’m upset.’ But according to the receipt Ben gave Honey after he took her out for dinner—Lydia, I mean, not Honey—she has plenty of appetite for French food.”
“Just not French fries, hey, sis?” Brian said waving one.
Trixie snagged several fries for herself and settled back in her chair. “And with that, gentlemen, I rest my case.”
*
Honey glanced around the old abandoned store, wondering why Lydia Fairmont had insisted on meeting somewhere private and out of the way—it didn’t need to be fancy. Fancy, Honey reflected, it wasn’t. Apart from the old wall shelving and counter, the only furniture was a couple of folding chairs. Ben had promptly suggested a property his family had acquired but not yet developed, and Lydia agreed it would be ideal, though she had asked for a private meeting with her aunt. On the way to the meeting, Rose had spoken a little about her life in Nebraska and her affection for her niece seemed genuine, though she asked that Honey remain with her until after she’d actually met Lydia.
The sound of a door opening at the rear of the store made the two women turn their heads in unison. Lydia Fairmont appeared a moment later, but she stopped several feet away when she saw them.
“I thought I was meeting my aunt alone,” she said.
“I’m happy to leave you in peace, if Rose is comfortable,” Honey said.
Rose placed her hand on Honey’s arm. “Please stay, Miss Wheeler. And Lydia, please come closer, I can’t see you in those shadows.”
Lydia Fairmont moved a little closer.
Rose did the same. “I’ve never seen this girl before in my life,” Rose Fairmont cried, her expression both concerned and bewildered.
“Now, Aunt Rose.” Lydia stepped forward. “It’s been a long time. I’m a grown woman now. It’s only natural I look different.”
“Too different,” Rose said, moving away. “You can’t be Lydia. You’re not Lydia.”
“Of course I am. Your memory never was all that reliable, was it?”
“There’s nothing wrong with my memory,” Rose snapped. “I’m a librarian for goodness sake.”
“Hey, is Honey in here. I checked her car and it’s…” Ben trailed off. “There you are,” he said to his cousin. “I thought we were giving Lydia and her aunt a little privacy.”
“I’m not her aunt,” Rose said stiffly. “I don’t know who she is, but she’s not my niece.”
“I’ve tried to explain,” Lydia said, turning an almost tearful face to Ben. “We haven’t seen each other for a long time, and I told you that she had a history of instability.”
“You’re obviously confused, Miss Fairmont.” Ben said. “Lydia’s right. It’s been a long time. People change. Especially when they grow from childhood into adulthood.”
Honey moved to join Rose. She reached out her hand and placed it on the older woman’s arm. “Would you like to take a seat, Miss Fairmont? You look very pale.”
Rose Fairmont nodded and sank down into a chair, her expression troubled.
“She was always highly strung,” Lydia put in. “It’s one of the reasons she ran off. But none of that matters now. I’m here now, and I can take care of her.”
“I don’t know who you are, and I don’t need anyone to take care of me.” Rose folded her arms across her chest.
“She’s obviously unwell,” Lydia said, turning to Ben. “It’s just like when she was younger. She spent time in a sanitarium, you know.”
“You never mentioned that before,” Honey said sharply.
“I’m sure I did, when I first came to see you. You remember, don’t you?” Lydia’s attention was still fixed on Ben, who nodded uncertainly. “Perhaps you forgot, or perhaps it was when your friend was in with us.”
Honey shook her head slowly. “I know you didn’t mention it when I was present and Trixie is a trained investigator—she would have made a note of it.”
“Are you going to let your secretary correct you like that?” Lydia demanded.
“She’s not exactly a secretary,” Ben said weakly, his expression confused.
“No. I am not just a secretary—not that being a secretary isn’t a completely honorable profession—it is. You wouldn’t believe the difference an efficient secretary makes to a business…” Honey trailed off, realizing she was lapsing into infamous Honeyspeak. “The point is, Trixie and I are both trained investigators—and we’re good at what we do—most of the time.”
“Most of the time?” Ben echoed, looking even more bewildered.
“We do better when we follow our instincts,” Honey said, eyeing Lydia Fairmont warily.
“What did your instincts tell you about me?” Their client asked, blue eyes narrowed.
Honey hesitated a moment before responding. “That you were a liar,” she said coolly.
Ben spluttered and the other woman raised her eyebrows before reaching into her purse. She smiled at Honey and shrugged her shoulders as she waved a small revolver in her direction. “Good instincts, then. You really should have trusted them.”
***
“I know you didn’t like the woman, Trix and that’s fair enough, but at least you’ve reunited a family. That’s something,” Brian said, eyeing his sister with concern. The burgers, fries and shakes were history and the three of them remained gathered around the dining table, waiting for news.
“I know you all think I’m being stubborn or ridiculous, but I can’t help the way I feel.”
“Not ridiculous,” Brian returned promptly.
“And not stubborn, necessarily,” Jim added, taking a seat next to his wife.
“I just wished they’d waited until I’d heard back from the paper in Lincoln.”
“You really think there’s something wrong, don’t you, Trix?” Brian asked.
“Yes, I do. And no matter what Ben or Lydia say, I need to find out more about this family matriarch for myself. There must be more to her than just being mega-rich.”
“Well, Lydia did say she was a bit of a terror. You can understand why she didn’t want anyone to contact her,” Jim said. “I mean, even Rose has confirmed that for you. She definitely didn’t want you to contact her mother.”
“I know. I know. And I’m not about to tell the woman where Rose is. I just need to check something out. For my own peace of mind.”
“Well, that’s good enough for me,” Jim said. “Let’s give this paper another call. Unless I really wasn’t paying attention last time I read the Wheeler International holdings statement, I think we might have a stake in it. “
Trixie’s blue eyes rounded. “Are you telling me Mr. Honorable is going to name drop?”
Jim shrugged. “My love for you knows no bounds. Now, do we call them or not?”
Trixie’s hands twisted in her lap as she sat and waited while Jim rang and spoke to the editor of the paper. She watched as her husband’s brow furrowed and his expression altered. “Are you certain?” he asked. “Yes, of course. I promise I will call back and explain. And thank you. Thank you very much.”
“What? What did he say?” Trixie demanded as Jim replaced the receiver.
“Miriam Fairmont is dead,” Jim said. “She died almost a month ago, leaving the bulk of her estate to her daughter Rose.”
***
“You’re right,” Honey said, hazel eyes narrowing. “I should have trusted my instincts. More importantly I should have trusted Trixie’s.”
“Who are you?” Rose Fairmont demanded, fixing a steely gaze upon the woman holding the gun. “I know you’re not my niece.”
“As far as the world is concerned that’s exactly who I am.” ‘Lydia’ returned.
“Your Lydia is dead by now and in some hospital morgue. We were friends, I suppose. We were in an accident, and I just took advantage of a tragic situation and swapped identifications. We look similar. It really wasn’t that hard.”
“Why would you do such a horrible thing?” Rose asked, her face paling.
“Money would be my first guess,” Honey said. “It’s usually about money.”
“My family is wealthy,” Rose confirmed.
“And mostly dead,” ‘Lydia’ said. “Including your mother.”
A flicker of pain crossed Rose Fairmont’s face, but she composed herself quickly and merely regarded the other woman as if she were an insect or a spider.
“So, you needed us to find Rose, so that you could kill her?” Honey was surprised to hear that her voiced sounded cool and calm. She tightened her grip on the folding chair chair beside her, not shifting her gaze from either the woman or the gun.
“See, you are a good investigator,” the other woman replied.
“But you can’t expect to get away with it, now,” Ben said, frowning. “I mean, there are three of us, and…” he trailed off.
‘Lydia’ smiled at him pityingly and with a wave of the gun motioned for him to go and join Rose and Honey.
“You see, there may be three of you and only one of me, but this little beauty here, purchased by Rose Fairmont, should anyone check, has six bullets, so I think I’ll be just fine,” she said.
“You might want to check your math. I’ve always found math can be tricky.”
All heads swiveled to see Trixie in the doorway. Flanked by Jim and Dan. The latter brandished his police revolver, and Trixie held a small gun in her own hand.
“Drop it, Miss Shaw.” Dan moved further into the room, and, after a moment the woman lowered her weapon and slowly placed it on the floor.
“Boy, are we glad to see you,” Honey said.
“We’re glad to see you, too, Sis,” Jim said, his expression relieved.
“Ditto,” Trixie added, slipping her own gun into the purse she had slung over her shoulder. “Meet Myra Shaw. Thief, fraudster and all-round bad guy ... girl ... person. You get the picture.” She took the handcuffs from Dan’s belt and soon had the culprit secured.
“Back-up should here any minute,” Dan said. “Once they arrive, we’ll take care of Miss Shaw here, and you guys can head…”
“Back to the office, I think,” Honey suggested. “Miss Fairmont, will you come with us? This all must have been very upsetting.”
The older woman nodded. “I confess it has been, but I’d prefer to go home for now, if that’s alright. I realize, you’ll need to take a statement from me. But I think I’d like to be alone. The fact that I’d distanced myself from my family doesn’t mean I’m not upset by learning of my mother and niece’s deaths. I was very fond of Lydia.”
“Of course,” Honey said swiftly. “I’ll take you home and meet the rest of you back at the office.”
“Me, too?” Ben asked, sounding lost.
Trixie and Honey exchanged looks. “You, too,” Trixie said. “After all, you are the boss.”
By the time Honey arrived back at SOLVED, Ben had left, and Brian was waiting there with Jim and Trixie. Honey was hugged by each of them in turn before Trixie waved her to a seat and Jim poured coffee and handed it to her.
“Thank goodness you’re okay,” Trixie said.
“Though how that woman thought she was going to get away with killing all three of you is beyond me,” Brian observed, reaching for his girlfriend’s hand.
“I doubt that was her plan,” Honey returned. “She’d even bought the gun in Rose’s name. She told us that much.”
Trixie nodded. “My guess is that’s why she wanted a private meeting. She’d have made up some story about Rose losing it and a struggle for the gun and Rose would have ended up dead.”
“Nasty.” Jim shook his head.
“Very nasty,” Brian agreed.
At that moment the phone rang. Jim glanced at his wife and sister and then crossed the room to answer it himself. He spoke for a couple of minutes then rejoined his friends.
“There’s some good news. Lydia Fairmont isn’t dead.”
“What?” Trixie scrambled to her feet, blue eyes flashing.
“Lydia Fairmont didn’t die in that bus crash. She’s been in a coma but two days ago, she regained consciousness. She’s confused and weak, but very much alive.”
“So we really can reunite a family,” Honey breathed.
“Of course, you can,” Jim admonished. “When have Belden and Wheeler, girl detectives, ever failed on a case?”
“Good point,” Brian agreed.
“Well, I think that entitles us to a yummy dinner,” Trixie said.
“Pizza?” Jim asked with a grin.
“Chinese?” Honey put in hopefully.
Trixie hesitated briefly, then nodded her assent. “After all, she’s the one who had a gun pointed at her today. She should get to choose.”
Honey smiled at her friend. “Just so you know—I had a good grip on a folding chair—that woman was not going to get away with shooting us. Count on it.”
The Wrap Up
Trixie and Honey returned to the office on Monday morning after seeing Rose Fairmont off at the train station—on her way home to Nebraska to see her niece.
“I will say, I always had my suspicions,” Ben said, leaning back in his desk chair.
Trixie’s blue eyes snapped, and she opened her mouth to respond. Honey beat her to it.
“You did spend more time with her than we did,” she said evenly.
“Yes, well, I felt it best to dig a little deeper. Get a handle on the woman, so to speak.”
“Get a hand on the woman?” Trixie more or less repeated with an innocent blink of her eyes.
Ben glared and Honey made a choking noise, before reaching for the pitcher of water on the bureau and pouring herself a glass. “Sorry,” she managed.
“Are you okay?” Ben asked, whilst Trixie did her best to hide her widening smile. Honey was a master of distraction.
Honey nodded. “Thanks. I must have had something caught in my throat. I was snacking on peanuts earlier.”
“You were?” Ben and Trixie said as one.
“Anyway,” Honey returned, shooting Ben a smile and narrowing her eyes at Trixie. “The police were very grateful for our catching Myra. That’s got to be good for the agency.”
“Yes,” Ben agreed. “They did tell me how impressed they were. Said they don’t always get along with P.I.s, but in my case, I mean our case, they could see some value in our work.”
“Well, that’s good, isn’t it?” Honey said brightly.
“Yeah, great,” Trixie agreed.
“I guess it might lead to more work,” Ben mused. “Prominent cases, delicate cases—even famous cases.”
“Like the Treasure of Dutch Schultz?” Trixie quipped. “or Bugsy Siegal or what about Judge Crater? That’s almost local,” Trixie said.
“A case involving a judge could be good,” Ben said.
“Let’s just see what comes up, shall we,” Honey suggested, shooting her best friend a warning look as Trixie looked as if she were about to fall about laughing.
“Good idea,” Ben agreed. “I’ll leave you two to finish things up. I’m spending the weekend on a friend’s yacht.” He pushed back his chair, grabbed his jacket and with a wave of his hand, left the office.
“Bugsy Siegal?” Honey said, raising her brows.
“He didn’t even notice,” Trixie said. “If I’d pushed it, we might have had an all-expenses paid trip to Vegas. Instead, we’re here doing paperwork, and he’s taking off on some yacht.”
“Oh, come on, Trix, you never know. There might be rough weather. He might get seasick. It may not be as glamorous as it sounds.”
“True,” Trixie conceded as she began to gather up the paperwork strewn across Ben’s desk. Slowly, a smile formed on her face.
“What?” Honey asked.
“I have an even better scenario than wild weather,” she said.
“Dare I ask?” Honey returned.
“It’s not the journey, Honey, it’s the destination. I remember reading something a few years ago. It would be good for Ben and for the business. Have you heard of the Bermuda Triangle?”
Author's Notes: Well, I guess this is by the skin of my teeth posting. If it weren't for my dearest friend Vivian doing the fastest turnaround in the history of the universe this wouldn't be happening. And anything wonky, shonky or bad is entirely down to me. I can hardly believe I have been a Jix author since 2013! In that time my Jix friends have become real. Fannie and Bonnie and Jenn have all visited—Jenn even stayed overnight. Diana (Secondhandrose) is always co-ordinating these visits and is one of the Bob-Whitiest people ever. I've been to the states myself and met so many amazing Jixsters, including the aforementioned beloved Vivian. 2020 has been a challenging year for most. I guess maybe that's why it's so important to hold onto the things that bring solace and hope. Trxie Belden is one of those things. All rights etc, blah, blah belong to Random house and not to me. No profit is being made from these scribblings.
