Chapter Eleven

 
Sitting opposite his friend, less than half an hour later, Jim knew that Cilla was way off base. Honey was unsettled and a little sad, but that was to be expected. She was certainly with it. She responded and interacted in an almost normal manner. The Chinese food arrived and, after some encouragement, Honey seemed to enjoy her sesame chicken and her favourite pot stickers.
Cilla nibbled at beef in oyster sauce, but to Jim seemed more interested in watching Honey than in food.
“This was a good idea. Thanks, you two,” Honey said, accepting another glass of white wine.
“Have you spoken to the police this afternoon?” Cilla asked.
Honey shook her head. “No. They haven’t been in contact since I left the house.”  So long as you don’t count their police surgeon, but I’m pretty sure those missed calls don’t have anything to do with the case. “Were you expecting them to come back or call?”
Cilla shrugged. “I’d have thought they’d have the autopsy results by now.”
“I guess that can take longer in real life,” Honey mused.
“With the pressure of a high profile case, they’ll rush it through,” the other woman said knowledgably.  “Besides, surely they’ll have been chasing leads. Wouldn’t you expect an update, unless…?”
“Unless what?” Honey frowned. “Oh, you mean unless they’ve settled on me as the killer? Or my father.”     
“They’re not stupid, and they have more likely suspects in their sights,” Jim put in, seeing the worry in her eyes.
“What makes you say that?” Cilla regarded him curiously.
“We all know that Craig was looking to make a name on his own,” Jim said, unwilling to reveal his encounters with Dan and Trixie. “Honey’s dad and Ford would both have given them names.”
“That’s true,” Honey said, sounding relieved. “And I know he was involved with another woman. Who is she?”
“Whoever she is, she couldn’t hold a candle to you,” Jim said swiftly.
“Very true!” Cilla affirmed.
“Honestly, as if I care about that.” Honey shook her head at them. “Craig was faithful at first, I think—we really were in love, more or less, at the beginning and happy, but he’s had other women in the past year or so. Flirtations, encounters, more ego boosts than anything else. But then I think it became more serious. Still…I do wonder if he’d got involved with someone he shouldn’t have.”
“What makes you think that?” Jim asked.
“He’d become more guarded. I know that sounds odd, but we hadn’t shared a room for almost a year and I’d moved upstairs months ago. He didn’t always hide the flirting. I think he knew I was past caring. But lately…maybe he was involved with a married woman.”
“Why would that make him more guarded than usual?” Jim’s brow wrinkled. A lot of Craig’s extramarital fooling around had been barely more than flirting, but married women were definitely not out of bounds.
Honey shrugged. “It would if he’d chosen the wrong husband to cross.”
Cilla sat up at this. “You know she might just have a point. If Craig was messing around with the wife of someone who didn’t turn a blind eye…”
Someone like Neil Richter, Jim thought. Richter’s wife was a petite, elfin-like brunette—brittle and beautiful by ordinary standards anyway. Jim preferred his women to have a little more meat on their bones and more of an outdoorsy sort of attractiveness. An image of a short woman with curves, bright blue eyes and bouncing sandy curls popped up in his mind and he pushed it back down again.
The sound of the doorbell, wired to ring throughout the house, saw all three of them start.
“It’s probably just your dad,” Cilla said throwing Honey a quick look.
“He’d use his key.” Honey scrambled to her feet, her hazel eyes wide.
Jim placed a gentle hand on her arm as she started towards the hall that led to the front of the house.
“Let me go. You wait here.”
She half-obeyed, allowing him to go ahead of her but following along behind him.
Cilla followed Honey, the three unaware of the strange procession they made.
Jim glanced through the frosted glass and slowly pulled the door open.
“Evening, Mr. Frayne,” Dan said politely.
Trixie and a uniformed officer stood behind him.
“Mrs. Houghton,” Dan added, nodding at Honey, who came to stand beside Jim. “I’m sorry, but we have some more questions and a warrant.” He handed her the piece of paper as he spoke and stepped over the threshold.  Trixie, who threw Jim a vague look of apology, and the officer followed suit, and Honey’s breath caught as she saw someone else was with them. Brian Belden was accompanied by a tall, athletic woman with close cropped hair. They took their place beside his co-workers, and Honey braced herself for what was to come.
“Let me see that,” Cilla said, stepping forward and holding her hand out for the warrant. “I want to make sure everything’s in order.”
“Let me read it first.” Honey focused on the piece of paper. Suddenly, this evening, she’d caught a glimpse of that shy insecure girl who’d been pulled out of boarding school—sick and scared. It was good to have friends, to have support, but she was not incompetent or helpless, and she realised it was time she started taking care of herself.
Her eyes scanned the document, a frown puckering her brow as its contents were spelled out in detail.
“You really didn’t need a warrant for this,” she said, passing it back to Dan. “I’d already told you that you could look around all you wanted—and your officers seemed pretty thorough to me. I’d have said yes to your removing medication too, if you’d asked me.” Her tone and gaze were cool as they shifted from one person to the next. She even met Brian’s dark eyes steadily.
“What medication?” Cilla demanded. “And why?”
“Mr. Houghton had a significant amount of barbiturates in his system,” Dan returned. “We need to see if we can determine where they came from.”
“But Craig didn’t—” Cilla began, then broke off.
“Craig didn’t what?” Trixie asked.
The other woman remained silent.
“My husband rarely took pills,” Honey said instead, ignoring the look her friend threw her.
“So, you have no idea why he would have a dose far above normal levels in his system when he died? Or where he’d have obtained them from?” Dan liked chatty suspects—they so often gave up valuable information without realising it.
“None whatsoever, to the first question,” Honey answered. “But I have some Valium in my bathroom—is that the kind of barbiturate you’re talking about?”
“Perhaps,” Dan observed, his tone, like his reply, non-committal.
Cilla Worth shook her head in despair, and Jim Frayne moved to slip an arm around his almost-sister’s shoulders. Honey gave him a half-smile.
“Look away, officers. We’ll wait in the conservatory.”
“Would you consent to giving us a blood sample?” Dan asked.
“Is that in the warrant?” Cilla demanded before Honey could respond.
“No,” Trixie answered instead of Dan. “But it would be helpful.”
“Why?” Jim queried, though his tone was more curious than belligerent.
 “It doesn’t matter why,” Honey said. “It’s fine. I imagine that’s why Doctor Belden is here.”
Dan nodded as Brian motioned for both the woman and the uniformed officer to accompany him. Dan was used to reading people, and he was good at it.  The pills in Honey’s cabinet might well be in the same family as those found in the victim, but her ready admission and her willingness to give a sample all suggested full disclosure.  He saw a look pass between Trixie and Brian and knew that they were thinking along the same lines.
 And in this case, in his opinion anyway, all of this might just support the Belden opinion that in spite of the way this looked, Honey Wheeler Houghton wasn’t the killer.
 
 
Brian slept badly—no surprise there.  More had happened in the previous twenty-four hours than he could ever have imagined. Of course, his sister would have said his imagination sucked anyway, so maybe that didn’t mean all that much. He tried to smile, but his mouth wouldn’t cooperate. How the hell had he got himself into this situation? He’d always abided by the one woman at a time rule. Obviously, he should have stuck to that.
The truth was, he’d forgotten all about Karen. Erased her from his thoughts. It had been Honey and Honey alone, in his mind, in his heart and, oh yeah, in his bed. The only reason he’d contacted Karen was because he’d been annoyed with himself for obsessing over a woman he’d only just met. Of course, that wasn’t exactly accurate as it turned out.
He’d tried to apologise to Karen, tried to explain, but she’d been angry—not that he could blame her, but he did know it was more hurt pride than a broken heart. He was still sorry, but not sure what else he could do.
As for Honey, the thought of her, the look in those hazel eyes made his intestines twist and curl.  She was hurt and angry. But if she wouldn’t talk to him, how could he explain? The way she’d treated him the previous evening—cool, polite and utterly disconnected. He’d longed to hold her, but he couldn’t risk being alone with her given the circumstances, so he’d sent yet another text as soon as he and the rest of the team had left Bluff House.  Not surprisingly, she’d ignored it. Brian checked his cell one more time. Hoping against hope she’d relented. Instead there was a message from Dan—a signal that he knew meant trouble. Still in his hand, the phone beeped as another message appeared—a summons from the deputy chief. Well, that probably wouldn’t be fun, but he couldn’t see why Dan would have sent a red alert.
He poured coffee and took a sip, hoping the caffeine would offset the troubled night’s sleep.  Dropping bread into the toaster he decided he would grab the morning paper and sit down to a semblance of a breakfast before heading to the station. He pulled open the door of his apartment, picked up the paper from the mat and saw it and knew exactly what his messages meant. There it was for all to see. His image and a grainy one of Honey as she left his apartment, a headline: SWEETER THAN HONEY Murdered man’s widow in Torrid Affair with Police Surgeon—and the end of life as he knew it.
 
Diana shifted in the bed, a smile lighting her beautiful eyes.  She felt good—really good. Mart had that affect on her. He lay on his back, his head tilted slightly to one side on the pillow. She leaned across and kissed him—forehead, nose, chin. His eyes opened slowly.
“Not a dream,” he announced with a lazy smile. “But a dream come to life.”
“Idiot,” she laughed, slapping his shoulder. “We have slept together before, or am that I forgettable?”
“Perish the thought, my lovely.” Mart’s smile broadened. “However, this is the first occasion upon which we spent an entire evening together, followed by an entire night together and then woken up together.”
Diana thought for a moment. “You’re right,” she said. “Either one of us has gone home before morning or one of us has been up early and off to work.”
“Already, a benefit of being unemployed.” Mart grinned.
“How does a leisurely cooked breakfast sound as another benefit?”
“Diana, you speak to my heart of hearts.”
“Well, your stomach of stomachs, anyway, which for you is pretty much the same thing.” She brushed his lips with another kiss and slipped out of bed, reaching for the deep purple silk robe and wrapping it around her.
“Anyway,” Mart added. “We can use this time to become full-fledged sleuths. I may have uncovered a thing or two pertinent to the current situation of your harried friend.”
“Probably,” Diana allowed. “The problem is, will I understand them?”
Mart made a face and she laughed. “Come on, Belden, you can set the table and make the coffee. I expect my men to earn their keep.”
“Keep?” Mart echoed. “A kept-man. Mart Belden, kept-man—it has a nice ring to it. Someone get me a cravat.”

            “Unfreakin’ believable, Belden. What the hell were you thinking?”
Brian figured it was a rhetorical question, and he was right.
“Do you know this looks? And you, Mangan, where the hell were you when this was going on?” Chief Wheathead turned his attention to Dan, who stood near the office door, considering the possibility of escape.
“This has nothing to do with Dan,” Brian said. He might be willing to take his punishment, but where did the guy get off bringing Dan into it?
“Oh, forgive me?” The chief’s voice dripped with sarcasm. “I thought he was in charge of this investigation. My mistake.”
Not your first, Brian thought and somehow managed not to say it aloud. “This has nothing to do with the investigation. It’s personal.”
“Personal?”  Wheathead snorted. “You screwed a murder suspect.  That’s not personal it’s—”
“Morning all.” Trixie breezed into the office, cutting off her boss mid-sentence.
“What are you doing, Belden? We’re in a meeting here,” the older man blustered.
“Yeah, and as a member of this team I expect to be advised of meetings,” she returned, her expression stern. She moved to stand between her brother and Dan.
“For once in your life, you’re not the Belden I’m having issues with.”
“To be fair, Chief, you haven’t known me for most of my life, and you should know for the record that if you have a beef with one Belden, you have one with them all.”
Brian tried not to smile, he really did, but Trixie was just so Trixie. She did say what she was thinking most of the time and right at this moment he loved her for it.
“You can wipe that grin off your face, Belden.” The chief’s colour was getting redder by the minute.
“Which one?” Trixie asked innocently. “It might be easier if you use our first names or even doctor or detective.”
“Just for clarity,” Brian heard himself add. “And, sir, you might want to take a drink of water. I’m not keen on your colour. We wouldn’t want to put too much strain on your heart.”
This all but induced apoplexy in the man on the other side of the desk. After a moment, he drew breath and glared in equal measure at brother and sister. “Fine, Detective Belden, when I want your opinion I’ll ask for it. Doctor Belden, you’re suspended, while the ethics unit examine your actions to see if you’ve compromised our case. Now get out!”
“Me, too?” Dan asked hopefully.
“You, too!” Wheathead barked.
“Way to go, Bri,” Trixie patted her brother on the back once they were clear of the chief’s office. “It’s nice to have him pissed at someone else for a change.”
“Happy to oblige,” Brian returned, though his broad shoulders slumped as he spoke. He turned from Trixie to Dan. “So, go ahead, let me have it. I deserve it.”
Dan shrugged his own shoulders. “Kind of pointless, if you ask me. You don’t need us to tell you that if you really do have a thing for her, you should have waited to act on it. You already know that.”
“I don’t have a thing,” Brian protested.
“Well, if she’s just another of your ‘let’s have uncomplicated, consensual, relatively casual sex’ women, I’d say your judgment’s a little off.”
Brian’s expression darkened.  “I thought you guys were pretty sure she wasn’t in the frame.”
“Well, Rachel’s examination of her computer suggests she was on-line and emailing, most of the evening of her husband’s murder. Given the time of death, it makes it pretty damned hard for her to have she killed him. ” Trixie said. “But,” she added, seeing the look on Dan’s face. “You knew that after we got the tox results, we’d have to take another look at her.”
“Look all you want,” Brian snapped. “She didn’t do it.”
“Fine. Lets hope we can prove it,” Dan spoke calmly.

​BH:MAIN                                                                                                                                                                          NEXT

Author's Notes: Thanks go, as ever, to my friend and editor, Dana—patient and supportive, always. Thanks also to the Jixtsers who have stayed around for this tale. You rock. Trixie Belden et al belong to Random House and not to me. No profit is being made from these scribblings.