Case Files 2#
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Clothes Maketh the Woman
           
            There were cases, and then there were cases. She wanted to be a private detective, she really did. But why, why, did it involve so much personal sacrifice? It was bad enough having to ‘work’ for Ben Riker, but this…Trixie Belden grimaced as she contemplated her current circumstances.
“Can’t I just be your maid or something?” Trixie demanded as she shot a resentful gaze around the department store, where its plush carpet and flattering lighting played host to rack upon rack of gowns. “Then you can just stick me in a uniform and leave me alone.”
            “Maids travelling with their mistresses, bosses, employers are not really my style. Even mother almost always looks after herself when travelling. It’s kind of out of date now. Though, I imagine some of the people attending might still subscribe to the practice.” Honey informed her with a roll of her eyes. “You are just going to have to suffer through trying on a couple of outfits.”
            “I can think of better things to spend my hard-earned money on than stupid gowns.” Trixie’s scowl was so reminiscent of her teenage self that Honey laughed outright and reached over to hug her friend.
            “I love you so much, Trixie,” she said.
            Trixie returned the hug but shook her sandy curls. “You say that at the strangest times. And if you really did love me, you wouldn’t put me through this torture.” She tried to look wounded, but failed miserably.
            “It’s not torture and you’re not going to have to spend your hard-earned…” Honey waved away Trixie’s immediate protest. “Our client has given us an expense account, which should take care of what you need.”
            “What about you?”
            Honey laughed again. “One thing being a Wheeler with a lot of charity functions to attend gives me, is a very good wardrobe, as well you know.”
            “Fine,” Trixie said grudgingly. “But nothing too frou-frou.”
            “Because that is exactly what I would pick for you.” Honey glared at her very best friend. “Fancy, frilly, lots of ruffles and lace. It would serve you right if I just went ahead and bought things like that.”
            “No, no!” Trixie was laughing now, too. “I did not mean to insult your sense of style. Honestly, I’d probably be quite happy with anything you did pick out.”
            “We’ll do it together,” Honey said. “Most things work out better when we work as a team.”
            “Can’t argue with that.”
            “Sure you can,” Honey retorted good-naturedly. “You can argue with anything. Now, let’s head over here, you need at least one long gown.”
            At the word gown, Trixie shuddered, but she obediently followed her friend, willing to sacrifice anything for her career.
 
            An hour and a half later, the two sat, surrounded by packages in a café, sipping coffee and munching on sandwiches.
            “This is good,” Trixie said, taking another bite of her pastrami on rye.
            “Mine, too,” Honey agreed with a nod at her chicken and mayo on sour dough. “So,” she added, hazel eyes twinkling. “You survived.”
            “Just barely,” Trixie returned dramatically. “Though, I guess I have to admit it wasn’t quite as bad as I thought. I can see me wearing the less formal dress out to dinner, and the pants suit is great.”
            “Well, you can add that to your work wardrobe,” Honey said with a satisfied nod of her head. “And I know you think the long dress isn’t really you, but you look gorgeous and Jim would definitely agree with me.”
            “Him!” Trixie dismissed her beloved husband with a toss of her head. “He thinks I look gorgeous in jeans and an old sweatshirt.”
            “Well, that is true. But he’ll like this. I know he will.”
            Truthfully, Trixie rather liked the long strapless gown herself; its simple, relatively narrow shape flattered her body and she could even walk in it.
 
            Ben was a little skeptical about the whole plan. “Look, I won’t pretend that Trixie isn’t pretty switched on when it comes to crime in general, but is she really going to fit in at one of the Warrington’s house parties?”
            Honey repressed the smile that spring to her lips as she watched her friend’s eyes narrow and her jaw set. Trixie might have had her own doubts but she obviously wasn’t going to sit for Ben voicing his.
            “What’re trying to say, Ben?” Trixie’s expression shifted to wide-eyed innocence, and Honey had to stop herself from laughing out loud. “I mean I’ve known the Wheelers for years now, and the Lynches, too. Have you ever seen me use the wrong fork or turn up for some fancy event in jeans and a t-shirt?”
            “Not exactly,” Ben returned warily. “But as I recall, you manage to duck the fanciest of occasions whenever you can, and I’m just not sure you want to pull off being a part of the rich crowd.”
            The use of the word want was, Honey thought, an indication that Ben was not without his own savvy. Had he said “can,” Trixie probably would have slugged him.
            “With Honey’s help I’ll be fine,” Trixie said coolly.
            “Of course, she will,” Honey agreed. “And she doesn’t have to pretend to be anything. I’m not going undercover. I’m too well-known in that circle to try that, and anyone who’s done any digging, knows Trixie is married to my brother. The very fact that she doesn’t share the same background as our hosts might be something we can turn to our favour.”
            “How?” Ben demanded.
            “I’m bound to be able to talk to the servants more easily,” Trixie supplied immediately.  “And Honey’s got a list of other guests. They can’t all be bluebloods like you two. There must be some other schlubs like me.”
“You are not a schlub,” Honey protested. “And our blood isn’t that blue, anyway, and….” She trailed off, not wanting to be distracted. “And you’re probably right. It’s 1957, not 1927; there are bound to be people there who don’t come from generations of money.”
            “Maybe,” Ben allowed. “But I’ve been to some of these things and people dress a certain way. I mean…” he gulped visibly and avoided looking at Trixie directly. “Obviously, you look fine and everything, but…”
            “Oh, save it,” Trixie said, waving her hand at me. “Honey’s already used some of the client’s expense account to make sure I don’t embarrass either the family or you.”
            “Right, well, good. You know I’d go myself, but I have to fly to the Riviera that weekend.”
            “We’ll manage just fine, Ben.” Honey said swiftly before Trixie could make a smart remark.
            “Good. Well, I’d say keep me posted but we all know you two do more around here than me. Watch your back, coz.  And don’t shoot anyone, Belden.”
            “As if!” Trixie sniffed.
            “Way too much paperwork,” Honey said straight-faced.
            “You said it, sister.” Trixie grinned, and, after a moment, Ben grinned too.
            “So,” Trixie said slowly. “Should I pack my dungarees or not? I don’t where I’ll put a gun in those outfits you made me buy.”
            “Ignoring you.” Honey lifted her chin.
            “Good luck with that,” Ben said. “It’s like ignoring a hurricane.”
                                                *********
            “Just be careful, Trix. Since you told me about this, I’ve done a little research. I don’t think this thief will be too keen on getting caught.” Jim’s brow furrowed and his green eyes showed his concern.
            “I love your confidence,” Trixie said. “Caught, indeed.”
            “Hey, I know you. You and Honey both. This guy, whoever he is, doesn’t know who he is dealing with.”
            “Let’s hope so.”
            “Is anything bothering you, Shamus? Considering that this is a big case and you and Honey are going in without Ben looking over your shoulders, I thought you’d be more excited.”
            “I hate dressing up.” Trixie pouted as she stuffed more clothes into the open suitcase on the bed.
            “Yet, you love being a detective, and as these two things are currently intertwined, I’m guessing the latter makes up for the former.” Jim grinned as he pulled the trousers from the case and folded then neatly before returning them.
            “Why, oh why, did I have to marry such an annoyingly logical man?” Trixie asked.
            “Just unlucky, I guess,” Jim returned. “I do wish I could be there for this number.” He held up the strapless dress, his expression more than a little dreamy.
            “You can see it whenever you like. Now, if you want?” Trixie’s blue eyes danced.
            “You really should make sure it fits and everything,” Jim said. “Those department stores can be tricky.”
            “That is another very logical suggestion. I guess I’ll keep you after all.”
 
At Home With the Rich and Famous
 
            “This place makes the Manor House look like a shack,” Trixie breathed, blue eyes wide as their car wound its way up the long, curving drive.
            “Told you,” Honey said with a grin.
            “I find it hard to believe that there are people that much richer than your family.”
            Honey laughed. “There are, trust me. But to be fair, Daddy doesn’t flaunt our wealth as much as some.  And there’s mother’s money, too. Hart money is old money, whatever that means. Anyway, a lot of rich people spend whatever they have on huge mansions and anything else that shows how successful they are.” Honey pulled the car to a halt, switched off the ignition, and the two young women got out of the car. Honey opened the trunk, and Trixie removed their bags.
            “I’m just glad we got here alive. That crazy who nearly forced us off the road on the way up here could easily have killed us both.” Trixie frowned as she spoke.
            “He certainly got my heart rate up.” Honey shuddered. “It’s such a winding road—passing us was crazy. But we’re here now.”
            “We are. Look at it,” Trixie said, gesturing towards the imposing stone and timber structure. “Damn, you should have told me to bring a compass. I’m bound to get lost in there.”
            “As I recall, you can’t really read a compass, so what point would there have been to my telling you to bring one?” Honey’s brows lifted.
“You just never let go of the past, do you?” Trixie tried unsuccessfully to hide her laughter.  “Fine,” she added with a toss of her curls. “But you’d better coming running if I call you.”
            “Don’t I always?”
            “Yes, you do, partner.”
 
            “Afternoon, ladies.”
            Trixie spun around to see a tall young man wearing a uniform similar to that of the Wheeler’s chauffer, Tom.
            “I’ll take those, if you like,” he said, reaching out for the keys Honey still held her hand.
            “Thank you….?”
            “Carson,” the young man supplied.
            “Carson,” Honey repeated with a smile as she handed the keys to him.
            “I replaced old Edwards,” Carson said with a grin, his cool blue gaze running over Honey approvingly. “So I haven’t had the distinct pleasure.”
            “Well, I hope you enjoy working here,” Honey returned, the faint flush on her cheeks the only indication she’d noticed his attention.
            “It has its compensations. Like now,” he returned. “Would you like me to have your luggage sent up?”
            “No, thanks,” Trixie said briskly. “We can manage that ourselves.”
            Carson merely grinned again, slid in behind the wheel, started the engine and drove the short distance to the multi-doored garage. The doors opened and as he eased their car inside, Trixie gave a sudden yelp.
            “What?” Honey demanded.
            “That sports car we were just talking about is parked in the garage.”
            “Really? Well, I guess it’s not that surprising. There aren’t a lot of houses up here.”
            “I don’t think this mansion qualifies as a mere house.” Trixie kept her gaze fixed on the garage, and then turned abruptly back to face her friend with a grimace. “That guy does not act like a chauffer.”
            “Well, he was….” Honey trailed off.
            “More like Dick the Dip than Tom,” Trixie said, blue eyes narrowed. “Slick, smarmy.”
            “You could describe him like that, I guess,” Honey agreed.
            “The real question is,” Trixie regarded her partner brightly. “Is he a jewel thief like Dick, too?”
 
 
            The two young women announced themselves and were greeted by a well-dressed man of around thirty who informed them he was Warrington’s private secretary.
            “The butler’s dealing with some sort of crisis and the maids are both upstairs unpacking for other guests,” he said with a long-suffering smile.  “I haven’t a clue where Felicity is, and Charles just ran out a little while ago, so you’re stuck with me, I’m afraid.”
            “We hate to be a bother,” Honey said, sensing Trixie was unlikely to respond to this. “We can easily wait in the drawing room or the conservatory or just point the way. We can manage our own luggage.” Honey inclined her head at the small suitcases she and Trixie had carried in from the car.
            “Can you really?” he queried doubtfully. “I have a thousand things to do, but…”
            “We’re totally fine,” Trixie put in. “Spiffy, in fact.”
            “I do know you are in adjoining rooms,” the young man said. “You’re in the French Room, Miss Wheeler and your friend in the Japanese, if that’s of any help.”
            “I’ve stayed here before,” Honey assured him. “We’ll take care of ourselves. You get back to your work.”
            He nodded, relieved and hurried away.
            “Spiffy?” Honey said, turning to her best friend.
            “Hey, they say it in Agatha Christie novels.”
            “Set in the 30s, maybe,” Honey allowed. “And I’m not at all sure that that’s not more Sayers-ish than Christie-ish.”
            “Whatever. I told you this isn’t my thing.” Trixie shrugged. “Carrying bags, however, that I can do. Lead on, Macduff.”
            “Lay on,” Honey corrected automatically.
            “Yes, Mart,” Trixie said pointedly.
“Low blow.” Honey laughed.
“I’m just getting started.”
 
            “I am disappointed” Trixie announced as she returned from stowing her things in her bathroom. “I was certain there’d be gold-plated taps, but there just regular nickel or chrome or whatever taps are made of.”       
Honey laughed. “Sorry to further disappoint you, Trix, but most taps are made of brass, and those taps are actually plated in platinum, and it’s just a little more expensive than gold. Well, technically, it is gold, but…”
            “Spare me,” Trixie begged. “Platinum? That’s ridiculous.”
            “They own mines. In South Africa.” Honey said. “So, I guess it makes sense of a sort.”
            “To a person with more money than actual sense. What difference does it make? The water comes out just the same, doesn’t it?” Trixie frowned. “Platinum is for jewels, isn’t it? Not taps?”
            “You’re asking the wrong gal,” Honey returned. “We just have regular nickel-plated taps at the Manor House—except for mother—hers are gold.”
            “My head hurts,” Trixie said and sank down on the bed.
            Honey joined her, reaching into her own bag and lifting out a flat velvet jewel box. She opened it and Trixie gasped.
            “Honey Wheeler! Are those things real?”
            The box contained a necklace with matching earrings. It appeared to be diamonds and emeralds—large ones.
            “Of course they’re real. I’m guessing our thief would know the difference.”
            “You’re making yourself the target?” Trixie squeaked. “With your mother’s priceless gems?”
            “Yes, I am. Or at least, a possible target. And no, these are not my mother’s priceless gems, they’re mine.”
            “Yours! I’ve never seen them before.” Trixie took the box from her friend and stared at its contents.
            “Well, they’d look out of place at Wimpy’s, don’t you think?”
            “Funny.” Trixie said.
            “They were a gift from my grandmother for my twenty-first birthday,” Honey explained. “They’ve been in the Manor House safe ever since.”
            “I guess they would kind of look out of place at a Bob-White get together or dinner at the farm,” Trixie quipped.
            “Anyway,” Honey said. “I figured I’d might as well put them to good use.”
            “Not to put too fine a point on it.” Trixie snapped the lid of the box and returned it to her friend. “But what if our wily thief makes off with these shiny baubles and you and I fail to catch them?”
            “As if!” Honey scoffed.
            Trixie’s blue eyes widened and she raised her sandy brows.
            “Better my shiny baubles than someone else’s,” Honey said.  “Not that I can guarantee I will be the target. There might be far more enticing items available.”
            “More enticing than these?” Trixie shook her head.
            “We don’t know what might appeal,” Honey countered. “I know our client has had a very significant piece stolen, but a lot of the items have been earrings, bracelets, brooches—smaller items that are easier to conceal.”
            “That’s a good point,” Trixie conceded. “You could easily drop something like that in your pocket, and that means, if you were really good, you could probably grab some directly off of your victim.”
            “Do you really think so?” Honey asked, a frown wrinkling her brow. “Surely a person would notice if someone did that?”
            “Maybe, maybe not.” Trixie sported a frown of her own. “A talented pickpocket though, can get a wallet, a watch, a bracelet—in a snap.”
            “That’s true,” Honey agreed. “And you’re right, it does widen our investigation. I was thinking we were looking for someone who was sneaking into rooms, but if we’ve got a thief who’s brazen enough to take the jewels off their victims literally, then that might make catching them more difficult.”
            “But we love a challenge, don’t we?”
            “Do we?” Honey didn’t seem so sure. She was genuinely enjoying working with her best friend and was pleased and proud when between them they solved cases that left Ben scratching his head. But sometimes she wondered if she wasn’t best suited to being an assistant rather an actual detective.
            “Yes,” Trixie said stoutly. “And don’t even start doubting yourself, Honey Wheeler. You have great insights into people and good instincts too.”
            Honey couldn’t help laughing. “How do you do that? Is it some kind of mind-reading trick?”
            “I hate to disappoint you, Hon, but it’s more of a you are kind of predictable when it comes to not believing in yourself enough, cosy sleepovers with my brother aside.”
            “Well, that I do believe in,” Honey retorted good-naturedly. “What really worries me is that we’re dealing with more than one thief. Someone working with a partner, meaning they can both steal from the rooms and directly from their target.”
            “See!” Trixie waved her hands in the air. “I told you, you have good instincts. Excellent.”
            Honey raised her brows.
            “Okay,” Trixie conceded. “Your instincts are excellent. The fact that we might be dealing with a pair or even a gang of thieves is a little daunting.”
            “Gang!” Honey echoed.
“You just never know,” Trixie observed wisely. “Maybe the smarmy chauffer and the crazy sports car driver could be in cahoots.”
“Maybe,” Honey conceded. “Or maybe we need to do a little more investigating before….”
“Leaping to what Mart would call erroneous conclusions?” Trixie grinned. “Don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten that while my instincts about Dick were spot on, my instincts about Mr. Maypenny were not. I’m happy to examine all possible suspects before deciding who’s guilty. Now, tell me what outfit to put on, and let’s get downstairs and check out the other guests.”
 
The Rich Are Different          
            As the first evening was relatively casual, with guests arriving at varying times, Trixie did not have to don the long, more formal frock they had purchased. She neither looked nor felt out of place when she and Honey entered the living room where drinks and hors d’oeuvres were being served. Trixie accepted a martini and Honey champagne, while the former eyed the passing trays of food warily.
            “Do I even want to know what we’re being served?” she hissed.
            “I’m almost certain there are no endangered species on the menu,” Honey whispered back.
            Trixie’s blue eyes rounded, then she delivered a subtle kick to her partner’s slender ankle.
            “Ow!”
            “You deserve it.”
            “Probably,” Honey conceded with a grin.  “Honestly though, Trix, all I’ve seen so far is smoked salmon with caviar, pate on Melba toast, and club sandwiches, though the fillings might be fancy.”
            “Oh, well, that’s fine, then.” Trixie waved her hand airily. “That’s normal fare for we Beldens.”
            Honey smothered a laugh. “I wish we were being served Crabapple Farm fried chicken and mashed potatoes or burgers.  Your mom is the best cook I know.”
            “True story,” Trixie acknowledged. “Still, beggars can’t be choosers.” She nodded towards the approaching waiter.
            “When in Rome,” Honey agreed, and they both helped themselves.
 
            Honey knew quite a number of the assembly and chatted to people easily as the two circulated. Trixie exchanged pleasantries, but mainly concentrated on creating a who’s who in her analytical brain. They had discussed the situation thoroughly before travelling to the house party and determined that their first step would be to do a meet and greet, using their detective skills as a sort of human reconnaissance.
            To Trixie’s surprise, the exercise was not as taxing as she had feared and when, after a delicious dinner and more drinks and games after dinner, the two returned to Honey’s room, she was relatively relaxed.
            “Apart from the way they dress and talk, the rich aren’t quite as different as I imagined,” she admitted, wrapping her robe around her and curling up in the reading chair.
            “Years around Di and I hadn’t already taught you that?” Honey asked, tightening the belt of her own robe and sinking down onto the satin comforter that topped the large bed.
            “Di’s family was poor for almost as long as she’s been rich,” Trixie claimed with less than a great regard for grammar. “And you might have always been rich, but heck, your family moved to Sleepyside and you’re you, so it doesn’t really count.”
            “Not exactly a clarification of your viewpoint, but I guess I know what you mean.” Honey smiled affectionately at her best friend.
            “Okay, so while you were taking forever in the bathroom with your night time routine, I’ve taken the list your friend provided and started making notes against each name.”
            “Forever?” Honey lifted her brow. “Just because I cleansed and moisturized my face and brushed my teeth and combed my hair.” She gave Trixie’s tousled curls a deliberate stare.  “I assume then you have pages and pages of notes for me to go through, seeing that you’ve had forever.”
            Trixie wrinkled her nose and grinned. “I do like that I can always get you to react when I make a remark like that.”
            “Proving you are a far less honourable individual than certain people might think.”
            “You might have a point. Now, to get back to business, we have the following suspects, I mean guests, to consider.” Trixie consulted her notebook and began to read aloud.
            Jed Wallace
            Marcia Carmichael
            Lou-Lou Barnstable
            “Lou-Lou?” Trixie raised her brows before returning her attention to the list.
            Simon Leeds
            Isabelle Barrington-West
            Lord Teddy Cavendish
            This elicted a derisive, “Didn’t anyone tell him that this is America?” They had managed to discover that Lord Cavendish was the owner of the red sports car, which had not endeared him to Trixie.
            “I’ll check next time I see him.” Honey said straight-faced.
            Trixie wrinkled her nose and read the final entry.
            Francis and Evelyn Rockefeller
            “Real Rockefellers?” Trixie eyed her best friend. She hadn’t had a chance to meet the two and couldn’t help but be curious.
            “Well, they seemed real enough to me,” Honey said sweetly.
            “Add in our hosts, and that gives us ten possibles, plus the servants. Seriously, fancy owning a house that can actually fit this many people, without a lot of room sharing.”
            “It boggles the mind.” Honey kept her expression neutral, but her hazel eyes were bright. “I think in the morning, I’ll head down to the store we passed on the way up here. I spoke to Dan before we left and he said he’d be happy to use his contacts to run a general check on our suspects.”
            Trixie raised her brows. “So long as Molinson doesn’t catch him.”
            Honey shrugged. “Dan’s recent track record gives him a bit of leeway. And he’s a lot more popular than we are with our old friend. Plus, a lot of Dan’s contacts aren’t official police contacts, so technically….”
            “Technically, it’s not exactly the Inspector’s business.”
            “More or less.” Honey crossed the room, grabbed her small suitcase from the closet, placed it on her bed and opened it.  Naturally enough, it was empty. She reached inside and ran her slim fingers around its base.
            Trixie’s eyes widened as her friend lifted the base of the case to reveal a narrow space below. Two small boxes were nestled, side-by-side.
“Hey,” Trixie yelped. “I want one of those.”
            “I’ll keep that in mind for your next birthday.”
            “Promise?” Trixie peered over her friend’s shoulder, a slow smile curving her mouth as Honey carefully checked the two small revolvers she’d stored in one of the secret compartments. She opened the other box, pushed a flashlight to one side and withdrew the kit that included a lock-picking device.
            “Now I know why you told me not bring a gun.” Trixie said. “I thought it was because you didn’t like the idea of me being armed around a lot of over-privileged rich people.”
            “I’m an over-privileged rich person, don’t forget,” Honey returned.
            “Oh, you don’t count.” Trixie waved her hand dismissively. “I never want to shoot you.”
            Honey laughed. “Now, that’s a great character reference.”
            “The problem, from my point of view anyway, is that I don’t know any of these people and frankly the ones I spoke, or listened to, tonight, seemed pretty useless.”
            “And that’s a problem, how exactly?” Honey grinned.
            Trixie pursed her lips and her brow wrinkled.  “I guess I have an easier time understanding people and their motivations better when they’re more like me. I mean, I’m not a thief, but I understand thievery more if someone needs what they’re stealing.”
            “Needs?” Honey raised her brow. “I don’t know, Trix, but need is an odd kind of thing. I agree that if someone is hungry and steals food, that’s pretty easy to understand. Or when someone is homeless and they steal, say a hooked up red trailer, that’s easy to understand, too. But a lot of the time need is a personal thing—a perception.”
            Trixie thought about this for a moment before slowly nodding her head. “Okay. That makes sense.  Maybe someone here does need the jewels or the money they bring. Like one of the servants—your new friend, Carson, for instance.  Or maybe someone isn’t as well-off as they seem.”
            “That is a great theory.” Honey said. “But we need to find out who, if anyone, was present during previous thefts before we start examining motives.”
            “We can at least check it out. But it could be something else altogether.”
            “What?”
            “Someone who does it for the thrill, for fun or just because they can.”
            Honey shoulders slumped. “You’re right, again. And that’s going to be a whole lot harder to work out.”
 
            The following morning Honey knocked on her best friend’s door. “It’s me, Trix.”
            “Come in.”
            Honey entered the room and suppressed a smile at the grumpy expression on her partner’s freckled face. “How did you sleep?” she asked.
            “Fine.” Trixie tugged at the jacket she’d teamed with wide-legged trousers and frowned at her reflection in the mirror. “Seriously,” she grumbled, “why can’t you rich people wear jeans and sweaters on the weekend like us regular folk?”
            Honey laughed. “I thought you said last night that we rich people aren’t that different, after all.”
            “Demented would be a more accurate description.” Trixie said.
            “Cheer up, Trix. It could be worse. We could be breakfasting in satin, diamonds and pearls.”
            Trixie rolled her eyes. “Well, that might mean we could solve this thing a whole lot faster and get back home.”
            “You’d rather be back in the office, fetching coffee for Ben?” Honey enquired sweetly.
            “You got me.” Trixie grinned at her friend. “I am the one who keeps complaining about not getting enough field work and here I am, in the field, so to speak and still complaining.”
            “Just another of your little eccentricities.” Honey gave her a hug as she spoke. “And we love each and every one of them.”
            “Come on then.” Trixie squared her shoulders. “One thing I am sure of—breakfast should be good.”
 
            Once downstairs and ensconced in the light-filled, aptly named morning room, the two young women downed eggs, bacon, hash browns and several cups of perfectly brewed coffee—proving Trixie’s prediction correct—and lingered over the meal, so that they could, in Trixie’s words ‘check out as many of the suspects as possible’. It was harder than one might think as most of the guests were, apparently, not early risers. Trixie’s hopes rose as their hostess drifted into the morning room and greeted her guests before heading to the buffet.
            “We haven’t seen you for absolutely ever, Honey,” Felicity Warrington cooed as she nibbled on toast and sipped black coffee. “You never join us at house parties anymore. And you really should get to the continent more. We’ve just come back.”
            “Oh, you know how it is,” Honey said meaninglessly. “The weeks just fly by.”
            “I suppose so,” their hostess acknowledged. “And you do live way out in the dreary countryside.”
            Trixie opened her mouth to explain Sleepyside’s actual geographic location but closed it again after catching her friend’s eye.
            “I have missed out on a lot of fun times.” Honey sighed. “But it’s great to see everyone again.”
            “Charles told me you were actually working as a secretary or something. How amusing.”
            “Oh, it’s nothing really, but after college my folks wanted me to do something.”
            “And you work with, Honey, Tricia?” Felicity turned her attention to Trixie.
            “Trixie,” that young lady corrected with a forced smile. “That’s right. Honey and I are neighbours, way out in the countryside, and we were lucky to find jobs together at the…same place.” It occurred to the intrepid sleuth that revealing their actual place of work might not be wise. She wasn’t sure who actually knew about their real reason for being there.
            “Well, that’s fun, isn’t it?” Felicity said brightly. “Otherwise I imagine it would be boring, typing letters and making coffee all day.”
            “You’re absolutely right,” Trixie confirmed with a smile.
            “I guess that’s why you two are up so early, being working girls and all. I’d still be in bed myself, but there’s some tedious family trust details we have to go through and the family solicitor will be here at nine, if you can believe it. Honestly, money is terribly tedious, isn’t it? I just hate it.  I hope you’re happy to amuse yourselves.”
            “Of course,” Honey assured her. “And I’m looking forward to hearing all the gossip, too. Like you said, I haven’t been around for an age, and I’m sure there must be lots I don’t know about.  And I’m dying to get to know the newbies.”
            “Darling, I’d forgotten you didn’t know everybody. You’ll love Lou-Lou, and as for Teddy, well, he’s a dish, isn’t he? If a little on the wild side.  He’s a demon card player. Just ask Frankie. But so handsome.  You’re not married or anything, are you?”
            “No. Footloose and fancy free,” Honey returned.
            “Marvelous. Well, I’ll see you both a little later.” Felicity pushed back her chair. “Nice that you could join us…Trixie.” She hurried out and Trixie turned to face her very best friend.
            “Wow, I never knew you were such a good liar, Honey Wheeler. Footloose and fancy free, indeed.” 
 
            Trixie had long figured that her exposure to the Wheelers, and to a lesser extent, the Lynches, had given her a pretty good understanding of how rich people lived. In the light of the past twenty-odd hours, she was beginning to think she was mistaken. From what she had gathered from her fellow house guests the previous evening, most of them didn’t really work for a living, they spent a lot their lives travelling overseas and their pastimes included sailing—the yacht kind—skiing, polo, fox hunting and the Riviera, though Trixie was pretty sure that was a place, rather than an actual pastime.         
            She and Honey had elected to take a stroll after breakfast, and unsurprisingly it soon became apparent that the grounds of the Warrington estate were more than substantial.
            “I sure hope no one expects me to take part in a fox hunt this weekend,” Trixie said darkly. “I know the boys and Mr. Maypenny hunt in the preserve sometimes, but only something that they’re actually going to cook and eat, not for…sport.”
            “I hate it, too, Trix,” Honey assured her. “But I don’t think you need to worry. I spoke briefly to Miles, the private secretary, this morning before I came in to get you. He showed me what was planned for the weekend—no hunting of any kind.”
            “Good.” Trixie shot her friend a sideways look. “So, what will we be doing?”
 
            Trixie felt a little foolish as she knocked on the baize door that lead into the servants’ area of the house, but after a moment the door opened and a plump woman with flushed cheeks and a flour smeared apron regarded her warily.
            “Yes, miss?”
            “I’m so sorry to bother you,” Trixie said hastily. “But I was hoping I could get another cup of coffee. I just love my coffee.”
            “I’m sure we can organize a tray to be sent up, miss.”
            “Oh, no, no. Please don’t bother with that.” Trixie suspected her wide smile was bordering on idiotic, but held it in place anyway. “I’d be much more comfortable in the kitchen, if that’s okay. I’m more used to doing the dishes than having someone bring dishes to me. I’m not really one of these rich people. I grew up on a farm, in an ordinary house.”
            The woman gave her a look, but nodded, turned and indicated for Trixie to follow her.
            The kitchen was, unsurprisingly, huge. An enormous range was fitted against one wall. A long counter with cupboards above and below ran along the other wall, and there was a long, free-standing bench in the middle of the room, where much of the meal preparation was obviously done. A young girl stood at the bench, a pile of finely chopped vegetables in front of her. “Shall I do more peas, Mrs. Evans?” she asked.
            The older woman glanced in her direction. “No, that looks fine, Helen.” She turned her attention to Trixie. “If you’d like to take a seat, Miss, I’ll get you your coffee.” 
            Trixie nodded and sat down on the indicated stool. “Thank you so much.” She smiled up at Mrs. Evans as she deposited the coffee in front of her and nodded her thanks for the cream and sugar that followed.
            “Helen, can you get those potatoes ready for roasting now? I need a word with Miss Felicity.” Mrs. Evans bustled off, and Trixie swung around on her stool and smiled at the young girl next to her.
            “That is a lot of peas,” she said, unoriginally, but conversationally.
            “Lamb with roast potatoes and peas for luncheon,” Helen returned. “Mr. Charles loves roast lamb.”
            “It must be a lot of extra work having us all here,” Trixie said.
            “Oh, we don’t mind. It’s nice to keep busy.”
            “I guess lots of the guests are regulars. You know, friends of the family and all.”
            “I suppose so, Miss. We don’t really see that much of them.” She was probably right, Trixie thought. The kitchen staff were not likely to travel with the family. Maybe her visit was a waste of time.
            “Any leftover delicacies for me, this morning, Helen, my little—” Carson the chauffer broke off mid-sentence as he caught sight of Trixie. “Morning, Miss Belden.”
            Trixie wondered when he’d learned her name, but she nodded a greeting a took a sip of her coffee.
            “I saved some bacon and kippers for you,” Helen said, dropping the knife she was using onto the bench and hurrying to the range. She opened one of the warming ovens and using a cloth removed a plate covered with a metal lid.
            Carson took it, lifted the lid and sniffed appreciatively. “You’re a treasure,” he said.
            Helen blushed and Trixie did her best to hold her tongue.
            “I’d better skedaddle before old Evans gets back,” Carson said. He winked at both young women and disappeared through the scullery door.
            “That’s our chauffer,” Helen explained.
            “Nice fellow,” Trixie said. “Has he been with the family a long time?”
            “Only a few months, but he’s very nice.” Helen returned her attention to a tray of potatoes and Trixie allowed her gaze to scan the kitchen. There were several windows in the large room, mainly giving on to what Trixie assumed was the yard between the garage and the house. She could see Carson through one of the windows, and he wasn’t alone. A young woman, pretty and blonde, dressed in what looked like a maid’s uniform, was with him, her hand resting on his arm, her face tilted up towards his. He lowered his head and brushed her lips with a kiss.  A moment later the two separated and disappeared from view.
            Trixie smiled and sipped her delicious coffee. Not such a waste of time, after all.           
                                                   ***************
            “You know when you told me that dinner tonight wasn’t until after eight, I thought I’d have to pay another visit to the kitchen, but after that lunch, I can see why it’s so late.”
            Honey could have told her friend that a lot of people did not consider eight late for dinner, but as she too, preferred to eat earlier she wisely held her tongue. “Lunch was delicious, though,” she said.
            “I won’t argue with you there,” Trixie conceded. “But honestly, if you rich people eat like this all the time, why am I the one who has to constantly loosen her belt?”
            “First of all, you rarely wear a belt, and second of all, you have a perfectly gorgeous figure, so don’t make me mad.”
            Trixie laughed. “I know better, partner. An angry Honey is pretty scary.”
            “Do you think we’ve made any headway at all, so far? I have not made a lot of notes on the case.”
            “That chauffer is definitely shifty. He not only flirted with Helen, the kitchen maid, he was canoodling with another maid in the yard.”
            “Canoodling?” Honey repeated with a smile.
            “I read it in a book recently. It seemed appropriate. I just get a feeling about him. Something is off.”
            “Well, I know from experience not to ignore your feelings. And servants do have a lot of access. People are used to them being around and don’t pay much attention.”
            “If only I knew what that was like firsthand,” Trixie said.
            “Did you recognize the other maid?” Honey asked.
            Trixie shook her head. “She wasn’t one of the maids who have tidied our rooms or served last night. Which reminds me. There seem to be a lot of traveling servants, etc., here. As well as guests, so maybe I could have come along. As your personal maid.”
            “Somebody might have remembered you were my sister-in-law, and then where would we have been?”
            Trixie sniffed at this.
            “Amyway,” Honey said, ignoring the sniff. “We need to establish who was at the scene of the crime, or crimes, tonight. When Felicity mentioned Europe this morning, I was going to grill her, but she was too quick for me.”
            “You can grill her over dinner,” Trixie said, then shook her head. “That came out wrong.”
            “I know what you mean. But if I can find out which of the guests might have been present, then that will also tell us which servants were there.”
            “Well, I think we can eliminate Marcia and Isabelle. They spent most of lunch talking about the fact that they had been slumming it for months out west. In Arizona, to be precise.” Trixie rolled her eyes.
            “On a dude ranch? Like Di’s Uncle Monty?” Honey asked.
            “Sounded more like one of those places your mother goes to get herself pampered. You know—massages and exercise classes and healthy eating. Apparently, they were ‘working themselves to death’ there.”
            “That’s hard to imagine.” Honey’s lips twitched.
            “It didn’t look particularly tough to me. They had photos—lots and lots of photos.”
            “Sounds like fun,” Honey said.
            “You and I must have a different idea of fun.” Trixie shuddered slightly. “Anyway, it looks as if they’re off our list.”
            “I think I can say the same about Simon. He’s a devoted Cubs fan. And he’s been flying around the country going to each and every game, which he described to me in detail.”
            Trixie laughed. “Sounds to me that we’d have been happier swapping places at lunch, but still, it’s nice to cross some names off.”
            “Good point. Let’s go for another walk. That delicious dinner is making me want to take a nap.”
           
                                           *************************
           
            Trixie tugged at the unfamiliar gown and grimaced at her reflection in the mirror. A tap at the door made her turn her head.
            “Are you ready, Trix?” Honey called.
            “Come on in and tell me,” Trixie returned.
            Honey opened the door and stepped into the room. “That blue is perfect on you. You look fabulous,” she said.
            “So do you. But then I guess that’s normal for you.”
            “Excuse me!” Honey huffed. “I do not look fabulous on a regular basis.”
            “I know a couple of people who might disagree with that,” Trixie said with a grin, her blue eyes affectionate as she regarded her best friend. The column of pale green satin suited Honey perfectly. And the emeralds glittered around her throat and in her ears.
            “You look perfectly robbable,” Trixie pronounced, her grin widening.
            “Just the look I was going for. Shall we?”
            Trixie nodded, her grin fading. “Why not. Like a lamb to the slaughter.”
 
            This more formal second evening was being held in the grand ballroom, an enormous space on the second floor with huge windows that overlooked the rolling green lawns—which, due to the lights dotted along the winding garden paths, they could still see in spite of night’s fall.
            Trixie resigned herself to accepting a glass of the champagne that was making the rounds on large silver trays. Who knew that the rich actually had something against beer and strawberry soda? A four-piece band played in one corner of the room, the jazz sound offering entertainment without compromising conversation. There were two long tables set up along one wall—gleaming dark wood, laid with glittering crystal, heavy silverware and what Trixie could only assume was very expensive china.
            Trixie scanned the room constantly, her gaze moving over each of their suspects, looking for anything that might pique her interest. Her eyes narrowed as she caught sight of Lord Teddy and a red-headed woman, who had her back to them.
            “You promised, Teddy,” the woman said, giving him a playful slap. “I’m dying to drive that gorgeous little car of yours. I’ll be careful.”
            Lord Teddy raised his eyes and nodded in Trixie and Honey’s direction. “What would you do, if it were your car?” he asked.
            The woman spun around and rushed towards them. “Honey Wheeler! Where on earth have you been hiding?” She threw her arms around Honey and kissed, or more accurately waved her lips, at Honey’s cheek.
            “Evelyn. How lovely to see you—it’s been an age.” Honey returned the odd gesture and stood back slightly so that Trixie was included in the semi-circle the group had formed. Teddy Cavendish dipped his head politely and walked away.
            “This is my sister-in-law, Trixie Frayne,” Honey said, nodding from her friend to the newcomer. “Trixie, this is Evelyn.”
            “Oh, we’d heard that your husky adopted brother had married a local girl. How do you do, Trixie?”
             “Fine thanks,” Trixie returned, though husky, adopted and local girl all irked her. “And you?”
            “Glad to be back in the good old U.S of A, darling. Honestly, we’ve just spent almost three months on the continent and can I say I really can’t see what all the fuss is about? Name one thing you can find there that isn’t better right here at home.”
            “Croissants? Café au lait?” Trixie replied automatically, recalling her weekend in Paris with Honey and the Wheelers a few years earlier. Nice one, Trixie, she thought. Great way to establish a rapport with a suspect.
            Evelyn didn’t seem bothered by her response. She tossed her auburn head and laughed. “You have me there, Trixie. No matter how many bakeries I try or how many cooks I threaten with bodily harm, I cannot get a croissant to match those you find at any ordinary boulangerie in Paris.”
            Trixie smiled back. “Still, I do agree with you about how lucky we are to live here.”
            “I’ll drink to that,” Honey said, raising her glass. “Although I do admit there are some wonderful hotels in Europe, especially Monaco and Switzerland.”
            “Well, I can’t argue with you there,” Evelyn conceded. “We were in both recently and the service was exquisite. As for the parties…”
            “I do miss the social whirl,” Honey sighed, lying with an ease that surprised her best friend. “Mother and I stayed at the Metropole Monte Carlo when I turned eighteen. I loved it.”
            “Darling, that’s where we were.”
            “That sounds familiar for some reason,” Trixie said with an innocent blink of her eyes. “And I know I’ve never stayed there.”
            “Oh, of course,” Honey cried. “Wasn’t there some sort of jewel theft there recently?”
            “You heard about that?” Evelyn leaned closer to the other two women. “There’s a jewel thief on the loose. And, yes, he struck while we were staying there—at a party we were attending.”
            “No!” Honey cried with a horrified gasp.
            “It sounds awful,” Trixie added. “But exciting, too. If you know what I mean.”
            “It was rather.” Evelyn admitted. “I suppose the fact that I wasn’t a victim helps with that.”
            “I’m sure I’d have been terrified,” Honey said. “You have so many exquisite pieces. You had a lucky escape.”
            “Not just one, darling. The devil struck again when we were at the Burgenstock.”
            “How terrifying.” Honey’s hazel eyes widened. “Did you meet this awful man? It is a man, isn’t it?”
            “Of course it is, darling. It must be. As if a woman would do something like that. And obviously, we didn’t actually meet him. I mean he’s some stealthy sort of thief.”
            “Well, then, you wouldn’t know if you met him, would you?”  Trixie did her best to sound curious rather than probing.
            Evelyn regarded her with surprise.
            “That’s true,” Honey said, clapping her hand over mouth before lowering it and adding, “He could have just been walking around among you all. Isn’t that just horrible?”
            “Yes, it is.” Evelyn Rockafeller stared first at her old friend, then at Trixie. “We just assumed it was some stranger or one of the help.”
            “Surely the authorities would have questioned the help?” Trixie said. “Especially if one of them was actually working at both places. I mean that would have raised flags.”
            “Raised what?” Evelyn’s green eyes narrowed.
            “Oh, Trixie’s a big fan of crime novels,” Honey explained hastily. “Raymond Chandler, Earle Stanley Gardener—she just eats them up.”
            Trixie nodded and blinked her eyes innocently. “You’ve been right in the middle of a real-life mystery, Evelyn. I really envy you. And you might even know the thief without even knowing that you know. That happens all the time in books. You’re like the beautiful heroine caught in a web of murder and lies.”
            Honey managed to nod her head sagely as Evelyn responded in precisely the way Trixie intended.
            “I suppose you could be right. I might have met him—but he hasn’t killed anybody, surely?”
            “Not yet,” Trixie returned.
            “Were you and Frankie the only ones staying at both places?” Honey asked casually.
            “Well, no, we weren’t actually.” Evelyn frowned. “Why?”
            “They might have noticed something or someone,” Trixie supplied hastily. “Wouldn’t it be super if you and your friends helped solve the thefts?”
            “That could be fun,” Evelyn admitted. “I guess we could talk to Teddy Cavendish and Fliss and Charles, they were there, for sure. And maybe Lou-Lou, as well.”
            “That really does sound like fun.” Trixie beamed. “Are they here now?”
            “Oh, they’re around somewhere,” Evelyn replied.
            “Maybe we could get together after supper?” Honey suggested. “We could form a club or something?”
            “A mystery-solving club,” Trixie added.
            Evelyn shrugged. “Why not. I’ll find Fliss and check with her, but unless she has some sort of objection, but let’s meet in the library after supper. Now, I must go find Frankie. He’ll be thrilled to discover we’re in the middle of some intrigue.”
            Trixie and Honey watched her go. “Form a club?” Trixie hissed, lips twitching.
            Honey wrinkled her nose. “You’d be surprised where a mystery-solving club might take you.”
           
            It was a long way from a typical BWG gathering when the group assembled in the library an hour or so later. A heavy silver coffee pot surrounded by cups and saucers rested on the mahogany table, and a platter full of tiny sandwiches sat alongside it.
            “I was going to do champagne,” Felicity Warrington said, “but then I realized that coffee was far better suited to detectiving, if that’s what we’re doing.”
            “Sounds about right,” Trixie replied, suppressing a grin as she imagined her brother Mart’s response to the word.
            “We couldn’t believe it when Evelyn told us we might actually know the identity of the Cobra.”
            “The what?” Honey queried.
            “That’s what they call him. The thief, I mean,” Evelyn returned.
            “Why?” Trixie asked between sips of coffee.
            “He’s slithery and dangerous,” Evelyn explained. “Just like a cobra.”
            “It doesn’t seem like an obvious name for a jewel thief,” Trixie mused. “I mean the Cat would make more sense—you know, for cat burglar.”
            “Oh, but cats are so cute. I think the Cat would be a very silly name,” Felicity said decidedly.
            “Well, a rose by any other name and all that,” Honey said, shooting her best friend a look of admonishment. “The real question is, is there any way to discover the Cobra’s identity?”
            “Good point.” Charles frowned. “Now, did anyone notice anyone else behaving suspiciously at the Metropole or Burgenstock?”
            “Not just there,” Frankie put in. “Don’t you remember at the Ritz in London? There was a robbery there, too. Someone made off with the Countess Devries, sapphire and pearl choker—the one that supposedly belonged to Marie Antoinette. And most of us were staying there at the time.”
            “That’s true. How could I have forgotten about that? I never did like her. What a fuss that woman made.”
            “It was a priceless heirloom,” Teddy Cavendish observed drily.
            “You would have thought she was being murdered,” Evelyn said with a toss of her head. “And my maid was almost as bad.”
            “Your maid?” Trixie echoed.
            “Louise. She’s French, too,” Evelyn said. “And her sister or cousin worked for the Countess, but she was ill or some such nonsense and Louise begged to be allowed to dress the Countess. She was there when they found that the choker was missing. The way she carried on—anyone would have thought the thing belonged to her.”
            “Most of her family actually worked for the Countess,” Felicity said. “So maybe it was understandable.”
            “It was irritating though. She spent more time crying on your handsome chauffer’s shoulder than doing her actual job after it happened. I even caught him upstairs in our room with her at one point.”
            “He is a bit of a wolf, I suppose,” Felicity said. “But, honestly, he’s the most wonderful driver—even the wrong side of the road doesn’t phase him.”
            “He did used to work there,” Charles pointed out. “It was one of the reasons we hired him, if you call. Aunt Elinor insisted. It was her Bentley we used when we visited.”
            “With the prices those places charge, you’d think they’d have better security, wouldn’t you?” Trixie observed.
            “That’s an excellent point,” Charles agreed.
            “I’m just glad nobody made off with any of my jewels,” Felicity said. “I’m very attached to them all.”
            “An attachment you might need to break if what we were told this morning is true,” Charles observed grimly.
            “Oh, shut-up,” Felicity hissed.
            “We were all lucky,” Frankie said. “Maybe we Americans aren’t tempting enough. Most of the thefts were from continentals.”
            “It was exciting, though,” Lou-Lou Barnstable put in. She was a tall, lean woman, with close cropped hair and high, sharp cheekbones. “Being grilled by the hotel detectives and then actual detectives.”
            Honey and Trixie exchanged small smiles at the word grilled. “I can imagine that would be exciting,” the latter said.
            “I almost wished I had something to hide,” Lou-Lou added. “But I am, sadly, boringly, law-abiding.”
            “We all, are, darling,” Evelyn said. “No skeletons in any of our closets.”
            “None that have been discovered so far, anyway,” Teddy Cavendish observed. “But appearances can be deceptive.”
            “At least we’re safe here in America,” Honey said.
            “You know, I wonder if that’s true.” Charles frowned. “I mean he, whoever he is, can travel just as easily as we can. Maybe we’re not so safe after all.”
 
                                              ***************************
 They Might Be On To Us
           
            “So, which one of those victims is our client?” Trixie asked as she and Honey entered the latter’s room.
            “None,” Honey returned. “Our client is related to another victim—who never even reported the theft.”
            “Why would someone not report a theft like that?” Trixie asked.
            “Embarrassed? Maybe they were somewhere they shouldn’t have been. Insurance complications.”
            “That makes sense, I suppose. Anyway, I’m guessing that the French Louise is the maid I saw this morning, but I’ll have to double check,” Trixie said, flinging herself down into one of the armchairs before the fireplace.
            “I don’t know whether to be encouraged or worried sick,” Honey returned, sinking down into the chair opposite. “We know we have genuine suspects here, but there are too many of them.”
            “It could have been worse,” Trixie said. “They could have all been there. And I found out tonight that Jed Wallace has been in Australia for six months, so he’s out too.”
            “Well, I guess that’s something.”
            “We think we have a connection between the smarmy Carson and the French Louise, so that’s a start. You did say there could be two thieves working together.”
            Honey nodded slowly. “I know.”
            “And what’s-her-face did find them together. In the guest quarters.”
            “That’s a good point.”
            “Not definitive though,” Trixie continued. “Your friends were there, too. And I hate to point the finger at our hosts but it sounded as if all wasn’t quite right with their finances. Or was that just rich people humor?”
“No. You might be right.  Felicity did mention having to see someone about the family trust this morning.”
“You did say that need was different for different people.”
“What about your famous hunches, Trix? Do you have even an inkling about who might be involved?”
Trixie wrinkled her nose. “The problem was when we were all together, each of them said or did something or looked suspicious to me.”
“That doesn’t exactly narrow it down,” Honey moaned.
“I know. And I can’t help but worry that you and I seemed more interested than we should be. It would be bad if they got wise to why we’re here.”
“Oh, honestly, I think I’m getting a headache. Maybe we should get some sleep and go over things in the morning. I can probably make a couple of phone calls to see if there are any rumblings of financial woes.”
“And I’ll make sure Louise is who I think she is. And maybe check in with Dan. Ask him to take a look at our friend Carson.”
“That sounds like a plan.  We’ll meet back here before breakfast in the morning.”
                                       **********************************
            Later that evening, Trixie rapped on her friend’s door, receiving no answer. She tried again, this time a little harder.  When there was still no reply, she tried the handle and the door opened.
            “Hon, I was just thinking…” she trailed off as, after a quick scan of the room, she realized it was empty.  “No need to panic,” she said aloud.  She moved through the room, noting that Honey’s night things were laid out ready. Crossing to the closet, she opened it. Honey’s gown and the shoes she’d been wearing were not there, meaning she was still in her evening clothes.
            “Think, Trixie,” she muttered. On impulse, she went back to the closet and withdrew Honey’s small suitcase. She flung it on the bed, opened it, and fumbled for the catch to the secret compartment. The guns were still in place, but on top of them was a piece of paper. Trixie unfolded it.
 
                        I have information about the thefts. Meet me in the west wing on the third floor at midnight. Come alone or I will not meet you.
 
            Trixie didn’t waste any time. She grabbed one of the guns and a flashlight, thrusting them into her dressing gown pocket as she went to find her friend.
            She neither heard nor saw anyone as made her way to the third floor, cursing the fact that rich people had such big houses. The third floor was in darkness and Trixie quickly switched on the flashlight, shining it ahead of her, scanning the long hallway. Her breath caught in her throat as its narrow beam caught a figure, lying some distance away. She started to run.
           
             “Are you sure I shouldn’t call Brian?” Trixie peered anxiously at the mark on her friend’s temple, as if she could see the bruise she suspected actually begin to form. She’d been relieved to discover her best friend stirring when she’d reached her, and after establishing that Honey was able to respond reasonably to questions, she’d quickly led her back to the comfort of her room.
            “I’m fine, Trix. Honestly.” Honey lifted her own slender fingers and gingerly brushed them against her injury.
            “And you really didn’t see anything that might give us a clue as to who hit you?”
            “No. I don’t think so. It was kind of dark, even with the flashlight. I think they were waiting in one of the rooms. A door opened and someone knocked the flashlight from my hand, then smack—right in the head.”
            “Luckily, the scumbag didn’t hit you any harder.” Trixie said, blue eyes narrowed with anger. “He could have killed you. Temples are dangerous places to hit, to be hit on…to, to hit someone on…oh, you know what I mean.”
            “Yes, I do,” Honey conceded with a weak laugh.  “But please stop trying to explain yourself. I already have a headache.”
            “I’ll go and get some aspirin.”
            “There should be some in my toiletries bag. It’s in the bathroom,” Honey said.
            Trixie hurried off and was back moments later with the tablet and a glass of water.
            “Are you sure it’s okay for me to give you drugs? I think I should call Brian, after all.”
            “It’s just an aspirin.” Honey held out her hand. “And you and I both assured Brian and Jim that this was not in any way a dangerous assignment, and that we wouldn’t do anything risky. If you call Brian, I’m calling Jim.”
            “Huh? Why?” Trixie demanded. “I didn’t get smacked in the head and knocked down.”
            “Have you forgotten that your husband is my very own full-blooded adopted brother?”
            “How could I forget that?” Trixie sank down on the bed next to her friend. “He’s even worse than Brian. They’d probably come charging up here and ruin everything.”
            “Well, the first part of that is almost certainly true. I’m not so sure about the second. I think I’ve done a fair bit of ruining myself. How could I be so stupid? I should never have gone to meet someone who left an anonymous note. But it said to come alone and…”
            Trixie regarded her friend sympathetically. “It’s usually me who pulls stunts like that, so I’m just glad this time it was you. Not glad you got hurt. But glad I wasn’t the impulsive one.”
            “The idiotic, reckless one, you mean.” Honey winced and touched her temple gingerly.
“I wouldn’t say that exactly. I mean your original plan worked—kind of.” She nodded towards the faint red line around Honey’s slender throat. “You have become the Cobra’s latest target.”
            “It sure looks that way,” Honey conceded. “But from what we know, it doesn’t add up, Trix. Whoever the thief is, direct attack is not their m.o. They’ve never been violent before. Or had any contact, that we know of, with a victim. It doesn’t make sense.”
            “Maybe they got scared with all of our poking around.” Trixie frowned as she spoke. “But then you’d think they’d lay low. Coming out like that and attacking you—they could have been caught.”
            “That’s what I think. But it has to be connected. Don’t you think?”
            “Yes, I do,” Trixie said. “And I hate to say it, Hon, but as far as I can work out, one of your friends has to be involved—in both the thefts and the attack. As far as we know, the servants don’t know what we’re up to, unless one of them is working with a guest.”
            “In that case,” Honey returned, hazel eyes narrowing. “Let’s find out which one of my so-called friends are involved.”
            “That’s one of the reasons I actually came back to your room last night. I have a theory.”
            “What is it?” Honey asked.
            Trixie told her.
            “Sounds plausible,” Honey said thoughtfully, rubbing her sore temple. “Because unless I miss my guess, they’re definitely on to us.”
 
                                                **************
It Had to Be You
           
            As they approached the bedroom door, Honey put her fingers to her lips and inclined her head. Trixie stopped next to her friend, then nodded her own head. There was definitely someone moving inside, and they knew that both the occupant and their maid were otherwise engaged. Trixie held up three fingers and Honey nodded her agreement. Trixie counted and flung open the door.
“Just what exactly do you think you’re doing?” she demanded.
            Carson spun around from the dresser, an all-too=familiar necklace in his hand and clearly visible. His eyes locked onto to Trixie and then darted towards the long window on the other side of the room.
            “Not a good idea,” Honey said sweetly, stepping into the room, brandishing the small pearl-handeled revolver.
            “Bloody Americans. Always with the guns.” He dropped the necklace on the dresser and raised his hands.
            “I knew there was something shifty about you,” Trixie said. “But if I’m totally honest, I really didn’t think it was you.”
            “Didn’t think what was me?” Carson asked, his gaze shifting from one woman to the other.
            “When did you get a British accent?” Honey stared at him in surprise.      
            “I didn’t get a British accent, pet. I am British.”
            “Wow,” Trixie said. “You really sounded American. Wait, that’s not the point right now.”
            “Marvelous. What is the point? And why is the very pretty Miss Wheeler waving a gun at me?”
            “I’m not waving,” Honey protested. “I’m holding, carefully and steadily. Guns are dangerous.”
            “On that we agree. So, do you think you could put it away?”
            “She might. It depends on you,” Trixie said. “Are you ready to confess?”
            “To what?” the chauffer asked.
            “The thefts, of course. We did just catch you red handed with Honey’s necklace.”
            “Sorry to disappoint you, but my name is Harry Carson and I’m an insurance investigator, not the Cobra. I think we may be working the same case.”
            “Can you prove what you say?” Trixie’s blue eyes were narrowed.
            “I can—when I don’t have a gun pointing at me. But can I suggest we get out of here, before anyone else arrives?”
            “He’s probably right,” Trixie agreed. “But let’s hope he’s smart enough not to do anything dumb because I have a gun, too. And I haven’t had my coffee yet, so I’m kind of cranky.”
            “Shall we bring this or leave it?” Carson asked, nodding his head towards Honey’s emeralds.
            “If you weren’t the one either stealing it or stashing it, then we’d better leave it here,” Trixie said decisively.
            “Because the necklace is here, which more or less supports your theory.” Honey said.
            “You have a theory?” Carson lifted his brows. “Want to share?”
            “You first,” Trixie returned. “We have a few questions for you.”
           
            Carson’s credentials looked legitimate enough, but until Honey had phoned Dan and managed to get both confirmation and an update on their previous queries, Trixie wasn’t taking any chances. Once they had what they needed, the three of them exchanged information, filling in a few of the blanks in the process. One thing they all agreed on was that Honey’s attack the previous evening was not in keeping with Cobra’s style.
            “So, you see why I’d started to suspect a woman was involved, don’t you?” Carson said.
            “It’s pretty much where I’d ended up, too,” Trixie agreed. “And you do seem to have a way with the ladies.”
            “What can I say? I’m a natural-born charmer.” Carson’s grin should have been irritating, but both Trixie and Honey found themselves smiling instead.
            “You’d be surprised how much information you can get with charm,” he added.
            “We really wouldn’t,” Trixie said. “People are dumb.”
            “And servants like to talk.”
            “This is all terrific,” Honey put in. “We’re fairly sure we’ve identified the Cobra’s accomplice, but who is the Cobra?”
            “I’m guessing the easiest way to find out is to ask said accomplice,” Trixie declared.
            “I concur.” Carson said.
            “Okay. So how do you want to do this?”
            “Us?” Trixie snorted. “We don’t want to do it at all. This is up to you. You’re the one who was attacked last night.”
            “So?” Honey began before understanding dawned. “Oh. Fine. It makes sense, I guess.”
            “Let’s get to it, then.” Trixie grabbed her friend’s arm and led her out of the room.
                                                             ******
            “Come in.”
            Trixie, Honey and Harry Carson followed one another into the room they had so recently vacated.
            Both Evelyn Rockefeller and her maid Louise regarded them with surprise. 
“I’m beginning to wonder if you’re making a habit of mistaking my room for yours, Carson?” the former said with a toss of her hair.
            “I’m fairly certain I’m in the right place, this time, aren’t I, Louise? These ladies and I have a few questions.”
            Louise flushed but didn’t answer.
            “I hope you haven’t been foolish, Louise?” Evelyn’s gaze shifted to her maid. “I wouldn’t be happy about that.”
            “No, Miss Evelyn, I promise, I haven’t.” Louise’s flush deepened.
            “Ask her whatever you want,” Evelyn said.
            “Oh, it’s not her we want to question,” Trixie said brightly.
            “No, it isn’t,” Honey added. “I want to ask you something, Evelyn.”
            The other woman stopped what she was doing and met Honey’s gaze. “What?
            “Two things, actually,” Honey continued. “Who is the Cobra? And why did you hit me on the head last night and steal my necklace?”
             
            They were gathered once again in the library. Trixie, Honey, Harry Carson, Charles Warrington and the just-apprehended Cobra.
“I do so hate panic, don’t you?” Teddy Cavendish’s tone was languid. “But dear Evelyn was always prone to drama.”
Trixie sat opposite him, keeping her revolver trained on the man they’d known as the Cobra, even though he hadn’t given them any indication he was going to cause trouble.
            “And violence, apparently,” Honey put in, rubbing her temple. When confronted, Evelyn hadn’t even bothered denying her involvement. She’d believed Honey had witnessed the attack and had been more than ready to give up the Cobra.
            “Crass, wasn’t it?” Teddy said. “Honestly, I should never have involved her. She was just so enthusiastic.”
            “Yeah, well stealing from her friends—that must have been fun,” Trixie observed.
            “Well, to be fair, it was more stealing from an enemy that got her so excited.” Lord Cavendish leaned back in his chair as comfortably as if he were drinking with friends rather than being interrogated by investigators.
            “The Countess?” Trixie said.
            The Cobra nodded.
            “I knew it.” Trixie’s blue eyes gleamed in a way that would be familiar to her friends. “She told us all about the thefts in Europe, but she conveniently forgot about the one in London? Then, when it did come out, she had plenty to say. When I thought about it, it was odd.”
            “She really egged me on to steal it. It was against my better judgement, but what can I say? She is very convincing.”
            “And last night?” Honey prompted.  “I’m guessing it was Evelyn’s idea to attack me, not yours?”
            “God, yes,” Teddy said. “When she suggested you as the next target, I told her she was mad. Especially after that little meeting last night. You two were way too interested.”
             “We were trying to be subtle.” Trixie’s brow wrinkled. “But subtle isn’t really my thing.”
            “Dear Evelyn thought she could twist you around her little finger. She loved that gathering last night. I tried to warn her.”
            “Apparently, Evelyn wasn’t a very obedient accomplice,” Honey observed drily.
            “She was more of an informer than an accomplice,” Teddy admitted. “Let me know where people were. Distracted targets.”
            “You know you’re awfully chatty for a criminal,” Trixie said suddenly.
            “Oh, I don’t imagine I’ll be spending a lot of time under lock and key.” The glint in his eyes was very definitely cobra-like.
            “You can’t think you’re going to get away with this,” Honey cried.
            “Charges will be filed.” Harry Carson fixed the other man with a knowing look. “But as Lord Cavendish is bound to co-operate with authorities, arrangements can probably be made for…shall we say discretion?”
            “I hate deals.” Trixie scowled.
            “Well, the deal will definitely depend on how much of the stolen property is able to be returned,” Carson said, eyeing the other man.
            “I may still have access to one or two items,” Teddy said.
            Harry raised his brows.
            “And can locate a couple more.”
            “I still hate deals,” Trixie said.
            “Way of the world, pet.” Harry grinned. “Way of the world.”
 
                                                *********
            “I’m just glad we’re no longer suspects.” Felicity shuddered slightly. “I had no idea impending financial peril could put one in such a precarious position.”
            “It’s hardly peril, Fliss.” Charles shook his head at his sister. “Just a few temporary cutbacks.”
            Harry Carson had gone with the authorities who had arrived to collect both Teddy and Evelyn, while Honey and Trixie had met with their hosts to fill them in on what had happened.
            “You could have told us you know,” Felicity added. “I could have played it cool. Helped you solve the crime.”
            “We were suspects, as you just pointed out.” Charles shook his head with a grin.
            “Sorry about the subterfuge,” Honey said. “But confidentiality is a big part of what we do.”
            “I can’t believe you’re both detectives. And I find it even harder to believe that Carson is some sort of investigator, too. He was an excellent chauffer.” Felicity sighed. “Now we have to find a new one. How utterly tiresome.”
            “Tough.” Trixie managed to keep a straight face.
            “Poor Frankie,” Charles said. “He’s having a hard time believing his sister is involved in all this.”
            “Evelyn has always been a little…unscrupulous,” Felicity mused. “I remember at boarding school, her breaking into our history teacher’s office to steal at test.”
            “Not nice, but not that uncommon,” Trixie said.
            “I think it’s a terrible thing to do,” Honey protested.
            “The thing is,” Felicity continued. “She didn’t just take the test, she also took a pair of antique earrings that we all knew belonged to our teacher’s great-grandmother. Evelyn had always admired them.”
            “That sounds like her,” Trixie said.
            “I feel like an idiot.” Frankie poured himself some more coffee. “Teddy and his fast cars and late night poker games—he definitely got information out of me.”
            “He was good at that,” Honey said sympathetically. “He got information out of a lot of people.”
            “It helped that he’s a real Lord,” Felicity said. “I’m afraid some of us are suckers for that aristocratic bloodline thing.”
            “I don’t get that at all.” Trixie leaned back against the sofa. “That only made me more suspicious.”
            “Something I love about you,” Honey said with a smile. “Besides, you were right—the crazy driver was involved, and even though Carson isn’t a thief, he’s not who he pretended to be either.”
            “That’s true,” Trixie answered with a smile of her own. “I guess I am a detective, after all.”
 
           
It’s A Living
 
            Ben nodded. “You both did a good job. I’d never have thought of using the suspects to solve the crime.”
            Trixie managed a half-smile. He was doing it again. Just when she was ready to punch his lights out, he went and got all compliment-y.
            “Okay, Honey, if you can finalise the report this afternoon, that would be good. I have a breakfast with the mayor in the morning.”
            “The mayor?” Honey echoed.
            “He’s impressed too. This was a very high-profile case. He wants to thank me in person for all my hard work. And my discretion. Some of the victims were friends of his.”
            Honey felt rather than saw Trixie draw her breath in and grabbed her best friend’s arm. “Did I forget to mention, I picked up your favorite donuts on my way in this morning.”
            “Donuts?” Ben said hopefully.
            “Sorry.” Honey smiled sweetly at her cousin. “You’re not usually in this early, so….” She dragged a still seething Trixie from the room. 
 
            A few minutes later as Trixie appeased her fury with coffee and a huge jelly donut, Ben strolled past them, jacket and briefcase in hand.
            “I’ll be back late this afternoon for the report. I’m meeting mother for lunch.”
            “Lunch!” Trixie shrieked at his retreating back. “It’s ten forty-five.”
            “At least he’s out of our hair.” Honey soothed.
            “It would be better if he were out of our lives,” Trixie grumbled. “Honestly, the only reason he came in early this morning is because he knew that the police were coming. And he didn’t bother to tell us that either.”
            “That can’t surprise you.”
            “No. He may never be around for the actual detecting part, but he’s always here for the reward, praise, thanks-a-lot stuff.”
            “True enough.” Honey smiled at her friend. “Wanna hang out in his office? Drink his coffee? Sit in his chair? Put your feet on his desk?”
            “Ooh, yes, please.” Trixie grabbed her now empty coffee cup and reached for another donut. “And I’m gonna put my cup down without a saucer. Maybe even get jelly on the leather seat.”
            Honey laughed. “Just promise me you won’t do that last thing until after we’ve hung out?”
            Her best friend nodded, causing curls to bounce. “Yeah, that was dumb of me that other time, when I wiped ketchup on the seat before I’d got out of it. It took me a while to get that out of my trousers.” 
            Honey picked up her empty cup, grabbed a cinnamon donut and the two moved into Ben’s office.
            So,” Trixie started as she opened the casement window, “do you think the fall would kill him?”
            Honey’s lips twitched. “We are only on the second floor, so my guess is no.”
            “But it would hurt him, right?”
            “I imagine so,” her friend conceded.
            “Then I think it might be worth it.”
            Honey raised her brows and fixed her best friend with a knowing look. “And where would that leave us?”
            Trixie made a face. “Fine. Be like that, Miss Practical. We can’t do that, it’s wrong, we’d get into trouble, we’d make a big mess.”
            Honey laughed. “All of those things are true, but, Trix, you missed the most important thing of all.”
            “I did?” Trixie frowned. “I felt sure including the mess thing would cover it. What important thing did I forget? What’s worse than jail?”
            Lifting the coffee pot off the hot plate, Honey smiled as she filled the waiting cups. “Unemployment.” 
 
Word Count:​ 12,775 words

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Author's Notes: Five years a Jix Author! (though my track record lately might challenge that status) Jix is a special place with lots of special people and I'm glad to be a part of it. My thanks goes as always to my friend and editor, Dana. She's so busy and still makes time for me. Hugs. All errors and nutty stuff are down to me. Trixie Belden et al belong to Random House and not to me.
 
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