Chapter Five

 
            “To what do I owe this honour?” Dan asked, lifting a brow and picking up the manila folder Eloise dropped on his desk.
            “You think Brian hasn’t better things to do than deliver reports to the likes of you?” Eloise Carter rolled the dark blue eyes that almost always caught people’s attention, given her dark coffee complexion.
            “I guess he has at that,” Dan conceded. “Makes sense he’d send an underling.”
            “You do know that I know how to totally dissect a human being, don’t you?”
            “And when I’m dead, honey, I’m all yours.”
            “Oh, why wait,” she returned cheerfully. “I have some free time, and for you I’d make an exception.”
            “Did you just threaten the life of a Westchester County police detective?”
            Eloise frowned. “Did I? I thought I was talking to a smart mouth public servant who should watch his Ps and Qs.”
            Dan had been flicking through the report as they talked, and he looked up. “Where’s the tox screen?”
            “Keep your pants on,” Eloise snapped. “This isn’t CSI you know. It takes more than a few hours. If I don’t have it by the end of the day, I’ll give them a call and see if they can speed it up.”
            Dan hadn’t really expected the tox results at this point, but he loved to get a rise out of the woman who slouched in the chair on the other side of his desk. “Shots were pretty close together,” he said.
            Eloise nodded. “Almost a classic pattern actually. I mean we’ve certainly seen its likes before.”
            Dan had noticed that too. Craig Houghton’s wounds mirrored the technique used by law-enforcement to take down a threat. Of course, it was pretty popular with those on the other side of the law, too, but he couldn’t help but wonder if it meant anything.
            “Well, I’d better get back,” Eloise said. “I have real work to do.”
            “Can’t have you wasting the tax payer’s dime.” Dan grinned at her.
            “Just for that crack I won’t call you when I get the tox results.”
            “Aw, come on. I’ll buy you a pizza if you have it for me before the end of day.”
            “And if I don’t?”
            “Then you buy the pizza.”
            “You sure live dangerously. I’ll catch you later. And, Mangan?”
            “Yeah, Carter?”
            “Keep an eye on my boss. He’s acting kind of weird.”
            “Tell me something I don’t know.” Dan saw the look in her deep blue eyes and his face softened. “I’ll look out for him and don’t forget, Trixie’s on hand, too.”
            “Oh, that’s right,” Eloise looked relieved. “A pit bull couldn’t keep a hold of her, so as long as she’s on the case….”
            “She is. We both are.” Dan watched the woman leave, a half-smile on his handsome face. One way or another he was getting pizza tonight and that was always something to smile about.
 
            “You Beldens are everywhere, you know,” Dan said, nodding his head towards the reporters who were gathered at the gate of the Houghton Estate. The news of Houghton’s death—under suspicious circumstances—had hit the media.
            Trixie, who’d already caught sight of her brother Mart, shrugged her shoulders and resisted the urge to wave to said brother. That would look good on the front page on the local paper—a detective investigating the murder waving happily to a publicity hungry newshound. Not that Mart was publicity hungry, but still….
            To her surprise, Mart stepped forward as the car moved past and the gates opened to admit them. He gestured with his hands, holding one to his heart and inclining his head towards the house. They glided by and Dan fixed Trixie with an inquiring stare.
            “What was that about?” he demanded.
            “Beats me,” she returned. “Mart was always lousy at charades.” This wasn’t strictly true, but for once she didn’t have a clue what her brother was on about. Was he trying to guilt her into getting him into the house? Surely he knew better than that?
            They pulled up in the area designated for staff and deliveries. Matthew Wheeler had been clear about that. The Chief had blustered when he took the call, mumbling about the Bluff Point Police Department not being at the beck and call of anyone, but Dan, who felt they had more important things to deal with, had agreed without question.
            They were slightly taken aback when Wheeler answered the door himself. And Trixie saw a knowing look in those green eyes. This man was no fool. He knew they were expecting a barrage of staff—a literal and metaphorical barrier between the police and his precious daughter. Whether or not the absence of the expected guardians meant anything remained to be seen.
            “We’ve set up in the conservatory,” he said, striding ahead of them.
            Matthew Wheeler was a big man, around six-foot-three, in his late fifties, and he had no trouble outpacing Dan Mangan, who was lean and wiry and just over five-ten. Trixie, who barely reached five-three, was used to moving fast and did so now. They followed him along that gleaming marble floor, past a yawning space on the right that apparently served as a living room and another on the left that held a table with at least ten chairs around it, and into a light-filled space that felt far more like the third floor room they’d been in the night before.
            Windows on three sides, soft greens, creams, pale blue and touches of lavender. Trixie took it in. Not because she had a love of decorating choices, but because she knew that you could learn a lot about someone form the spaces they chose to live in. The Houghtons had two very distinctive styles. One was lavish, the other simpler, one all angles and hard surfaces, the other softer, there was even a word for all that roughly painted cream wood and metal, but Trixie couldn’t remember it. She switched her attention from place to people and stopped dead in her tracks.           
           
            “Di!” Trixie blinked a couple of times at the sight of the dark-haired woman by Honey Houghton’s side.
            Diana Lynch had grown up in Sleepyside. Had lived with her family in a tiny apartment, and she and Trixie had been friends at grade school. When Diana’s father’s small company suddenly struck it big, her life was transformed, and the two had drifted apart when Diana was sent to an exclusive boarding school. Recently, Mart had run into the dark-haired beauty and the two were dating. Trixie was slowly reconnecting with her childhood friend, but by the look on Diana’s face, that connection was not exactly secure.
            “Trixie. You Beldens are a long way from home today,” Di said, and there was a hint of coolness in her tone.
            So that what was what Mart’s theatrics were about. The hand to his heart referred to his girlfriend. “Yeah, well. We go where the…where we’re told to go,” Trixie amended her intended reply. Now was not the time for levity.
            Diana raised a well-shaped black brow and fixed her with a look that was anything but warm and friendly.
If Diana wasn’t regarding her as if she was some sort of pond scum, she could have asked her about the room decoration. Diana Lynch did have a love of decorating styles; she was a buyer for an exclusive department store and would be bound to know the right term.
“What are you doing here?” Trixie asked her, recalling that she was in fact a police officer and should not be intimidated by the icy stares of a childhood friend who also happened to be dating her brother. Even in her head Trixie found all of those pronouns confusing.           
“I’m here to support my friend,” Diana returned, shifting closer to Honey, who managed a small smile.
“We both are.” Another woman spoke. Around five-seven with long blond hair that fell about her shoulders she came to stand behind the cream wicker sofa where Diana and Honey sat.
“And you are?” Dan interposed.
“Cilla Worth,” the woman returned. “And I’ll have you know I am an attorney, and I am here to protect my friend’s rights.”
“I’ll need to get some details from both of you,” Dan said, seemingly unfazed by either Cilla’s profession or Diana’s stare. “Are you acting for Mrs. Houghton?” he added.
            “What?” Honey asked, speaking for the first time.
            “No, she is not,” Matthew Wheeler said, joining the group.
            Trixie realised he’d been standing back on the sidelines, watching, and wondered if it meant anything.
            “Are you telling me that my daughter needs an attorney? Do you intend laying charges?”
            “No, not at this point in time,” Dan replied.
Matthew Wheeler’s green eyes narrowed.
“All we’re trying to do is get a clear picture of what happened last night, an understanding of who your son-in-law was, who his friends were,” Trixie added.  They weren’t going to pussyfoot around these people, but there was no point in antagonising a man like Matthew Wheeler. He could make their investigation far more difficult than it needed to be.
Dan shot her a look, but she ignored it.  “Your daughter has been nothing but co-operative, which suggests, to me anyway, that she has nothing to hide. We’d like her to keep helping us. I’m sure that she wants to find the person who did this as much as we do.”
“Nice tactic.” Matthew Wheeler inclined his red head.
“Daddy!” Honey chided. “Enough. They’re just trying to do their job. What else do you need to know, Officer Belden—or is it detective?”
“Depends on who you ask,” Trixie said with a rueful shrug of her shoulders. “You can call me Trixie, if you like.”
“Okay, Trixie. What would you like to know?”
“Honey, as pleasant as these officers seem, I’m not sure that’s the wisest course of action.” Cilla Worth placed a hand on her friend’s shoulder. “They’re just going to dig around in your personal life and concoct theories from incidental information. I think caution is advised.”
Trixie expected Honey to turn to her father for advice and was surprised when she held her gaze and shook off the hand. “Detective Belden, Trixie—is right. I want to know who killed Craig. I’m ready to answer any questions you might have.”
“Thank you. Okay, first up, you and your husband appear to live on separate floors of the house. Why?”
Dan had worked with Trixie too long to be surprised by her hitting hard with her first question. He might be the lead detective, but the most important thing to him in any investigation was getting a result—a real result, the truth. And he was more than prepared to sit back and let someone else run the show.
Honey Wheeler Houghton flinched, and out of the corner of his eye, Dan saw Matthew Wheeler’s jaw tighten. The two other women, Diana and Cilla, moved closer to their friend and the latter glared as she fired back, “That has nothing to do with the events of last night. Every couple has issues. You just want to blow them all out of proportion.”
Honey waved her hand at this. “It’s fine, Cilla, really. My husband and I did basically live on separate floors, Detective Belden.” No first names this time. “I suppose you could say we pretty much lived separate lives. In fact, if he’d lived much longer, that separation would have been official as I’d asked him for a divorce.”
Again, Trixie felt that flicker of grudging respect.  Honey might be a delicate and over-privileged flower, but she was surprisingly candid and that was a quality Trixie admired.
“How did he react to that?” she asked.
“I don’t think he was either surprised or devastated,” Honey said. “I wouldn’t say he was overjoyed either, but that was mainly because he considered it an inconvenience.”
“Honey, please,” Cilla Worth, frowned at her friend. “I don’t think you realise…”
“That I’m giving them a motive for killing my husband? Yes, I do understand that. I’m not quite as big a fool as everyone seems to think.”  
“You’re nothing of the kind,” Diana declared. “And anyone who thinks you are can deal with me.”
There it was again, Trixie thought. Surprising behaviour. She thought of Diana as beautiful, pleasant, good fun—when she wasn’t busy freezing out cops—but she didn’t see her as fierce or protective. And from the look on the dark-haired woman’s face, she wasn’t kidding around.
“We appreciate your honesty,” Dan put in. “Do you mind explaining what you mean by inconvenience?”
Honey shrugged. “Craig liked the trappings marriage to someone like me brought him. That’s sounds horrible, and I really don’t mean it to. He enjoyed nice things, liked the connections it gave him, going to parties, yachting on the bay and expensive restaurants, and there’s nothing wrong with that—we’re just very different. I think he thought he’d lose some of those things when we divorced.” There had been something else, hidden within his reluctance, feeding his irritation, but as she had no idea what it was, it seemed pointless to mention it.
“And those things mattered to him?” Dan asked. An almost imperceptible look passed between him and Trixie. Diana Lynch caught it though and the tension in her face eased, just a little.
Honey nodded.
“He didn’t try to change your mind?” Trixie threw the question out casually.
“Well, yes, at first he was angry…” Honey began. She trailed off as silence hung in the air, shimmering and waving, and Trixie and Dan’s gazes fixed upon her.
The silence was broken when Cilla Worth placed her hand upon her friend’s shoulder again and sighed. “Oh, Honey, I told you to be careful. I think you’ve said enough. If you keep telling these people the truth you’re going to get yourself arrested.”
 
BHMAIN                                                                                                                                       NEXT

 
Author's notes: How Dana puts up with me I'll never know, but I am eternally grateful. All fixes are hers, all faults my own. Trixie Belden et al belong to Random House and not to me. No profit is being made from these scribblings.