Chapter Six
The afternoon sun was hot and bright overhead as Trixie waved to her mother one last time and climbed up into her Cherokee. She grabbed her sunglasses from the glove compartment and slid them on, noting that she could already feel sweat beading between her shoulder blades. Her Jeep had turned into an oven and she was positively baking inside. She switched the AC to full blast and backed down the drive, glancing in her mirrors to see if there were any vehicles coming from either direction.
She could see the waves of heat shimmering on the road as she drove into town. She turned onto 3rd Street and noted there were very few people out and about. Ordinarily, Sunday afternoon was a time when Sleepyside residents were found leisurely strolling through the town square, shopping up and down Main Street, or visiting Founders Park. The near record-breaking temperatures had driven people indoors, however, and the traffic was light in all directions.
She sighed as she considered the weather. Aside from her personal discomfort, there were other, much greater concerns. Not all homes had air conditioning. As the heat wave continued, there was a real and considerable risk for the health and safety of those suffering in the sweltering conditions, especially the elderly. Beyond that, hot temperatures always seemed to equate with hot tempers. They could expect an increase in everything from bar fights to domestic violence cases.
The buzzing of her cell phone pulled her out of her morose thoughts. She glanced at the ID and saw that it was a local number. “This is Acting Chief Belden,” she said as she answered.
“Chief? It’s Garza.”
His voice sounded slightly mechanic through the phone’s small speaker. She made a mental note to record his number in her contact list and realized she needed to do so with all the officers on the force who weren’t already programmed in. “You’ve talked with the Greysons?” she asked, slowing to turn onto her narrow driveway.
“Yeah. Good news, I guess. Got a positive ID on the photos.”
“That is good news,” she said firmly. “Let Holt know. And get copies of those pictures out to the pawn shops in Harrisonville and Pearson to start. Maybe we’ll get lucky and get a hit. If not, we can expand the search.”
“Will do.” He paused for a moment, then chuckled. “Go home, Chief. We’ll see you at the station tomorrow.”
“I am home,” she told him.
“Which is why you have me on speaker phone? And for the record, I know what a car with a blinker on sounds like. I could hear your turn signal ticking in the background a moment ago.”
She winced, but then laughed ruefully. “It’s because I only just got home and haven’t even gotten out of my Jeep yet. But just so you know, the only reason I wasn’t here already is because I went to see my folks. It wasn’t work related.”
“Uh, huh. I’m going to go with the assumption you’re telling the truth. For now. You have a good evening, Chief.”
“You, too, Garza. Thanks for giving me the update.” She smiled as she disconnected the call. It was funny that she’d never really associated much with Bernado Garza before her unexpected promotion. Granted, they hadn’t often worked the same shifts together, but still, she’d never realized she was missing out on another potentially good friend on the force.
Her phone buzzed again as she was unlocking the back door to her house, this time accompanied by a familiar ring tone. “Hey, Di. What’s up?” she asked as she let herself in. “Oh, damn.”
“Trix?” Di asked, her voice betraying her concern. “Are you all right?”
“Yeah. Sorry. I guess I didn’t turn on the AC before I left this morning. I thought it was hot in the Jeep, but my house is like a freakin’ furnace.”
“Well, that sounds like a good excuse to meet me at Ralph’s for some ice cream.”
“Uh… okay?” Trixie set her purse down on her kitchen counter. “Can I change clothes first?”
“Sure. How about I see you there in twenty minutes?”
“Sounds good.”
Ralph’s Old Fashioned Ice Cream Parlor sat in the middle of a block on 6th Street, behind the elementary school and close to a two-story, red brick apartment building with many young families for residents. Location-wise, Ralph’s was in a prime spot for its market. For almost as long as anyone could remember, it had been owned and run by Marybelle Smith, a New York City transplant who bought the shop from its original owner, Ralph Murphy, in the early 80s. At some point, the local children began calling Marybelle “Ralphie,” and she’d gamely gone along with the nickname.
A narrow shop sandwiched between O’Neil’s Bookstore and Classy Cuts Salon, Ralph’s was a Sleepyside favorite rivaled only by Wimpy’s Diner in popularity. A red and white awning shaded the sidewalk and eating area, and Ralphie paid local artists to paint scenes, typically involving children and holidays, on the large window that ran most of the length of the storefront.
Di was sitting at one of the four small, black iron tables out front when Trixie arrived. “Before you ask?" Trixie said, holding out both arms. "My bandages are all courtesy of Mr. Tibbles stuck in a tree. Yes. I actually had to rescue a treed cat.”
“Oh, boy. I guess your bucket list is complete now, huh?” Di said in amusement. “You’ll have to come up with a new one.” She paused to brush a fly away from the table. “It’s been so long since I’ve had a Ralph’s cone. Remember when we used to come here when we were kids? And we’d always get bubble gum ice cream and see which one of us had the most pieces of bubble gum after we’d eaten all the ice cream first?”
“I remember,” Trixie replied with a quick grin. “We’d walk over here from your apartment after telling your brothers we were going to the library to study, just so they wouldn’t feel bad or try to tag along. And If I’m not mistaken, you held the record at twenty-two pieces.”
“Uh, huh. I was really tempted to order us two scoops when I got here. But then I decided to be good and get some frozen yogurt. I wasn’t sure what you wanted, but I paid for a single for you. Ralphie said you can go straight to the counter and tell her what flavor you want. You don’t have to wait in line.”
“Thanks,” Trixie said gratefully. “At this point I’d take just about anything simply to cool off.” A few minutes later, she was back out on the sidewalk, holding a sugar cone with Rocky Road. She pulled out the other chair at Di’s table and dropped down.
They ate their treats in companionable silence for a few minutes, before Di sat back in her seat, pushing her bangs up off her forehead. “I know you probably think I asked you to meet me because I wanted to talk about Dan,” she began.
“Didn’t you?” Trixie asked quietly. “Honey said you were mad at me Friday night.”
“Oh, I was. Only, not really. I wasn’t. I wasn’t making much sense at all after you dropped that bomb on me. I was so… thrown off guard. I still am, honestly.” She frowned slightly. “I understand you couldn’t say anything to me, but can you at least tell me know how long you’ve known?”
“Years,” Trixie admitted reluctantly. “It didn’t take me long to figure out. He’s always staring at you when he knows you aren’t paying attention, and holy dear diary! He’ll go on and on about you if you don’t stop him. I sorta backed him into a corner and pushed him to confess he’s crazy about you, all the way back when we were still in high school.”
“I had no idea,” Di told her. “None.”
“I know.”
“I mean, I can remember those nights we’d have sleepovers with Honey and gossip about the boys, and we all agreed Dan’s definitely a bucket of yum, but, to be honest, I thought you were the one living in denial.”
“Me?” Trixie huffed out a breath. “Why is it so hard for everyone to grasp that Dan and I are only friends?”
“Because you’re so close, Trix. I’ve known plenty of couples who don’t have nearly the close relationship you two have.”
“I know I have three brothers already, so this probably does sound strange, but that’s exactly how I feel about Dan, too. He is very much like a brother to me.”
Di studied her intently. “Are you sure, Trixie? Are you really, really sure?”
“Yes!” Trixie exclaimed. “I’m sure!”
Di held up a hand in a conciliatory gesture. “Okay! Okay. I’m only asking because you know I wouldn’t even consider going out with him if I thought it would hurt you, right?”
Trixie frowned, looking down. She twisted her paper napkin tightly and wrapped it around her fingers. “Di? You aren’t going to hurt me by dating Dan. Not at all. But… but I need to know right now if you’re only thinking about going out with him casually. To have a good time. He wants a lot more than that, and… you could hurt him. Bad. I’m not saying that you have to be serious about him, because if you don’t feel that way, well, you don’t feel that way. But please tell me now, so I can be ready to pick up the pieces, okay?”
Di breathed in and out slowly before answering. “I don’t know. I’m not trying to be difficult or cagey. I just don’t know. I think I always thought he was secretly in love with you, so I never let myself even consider any possibilities beyond friendship. Now I’m trying to wrap my mind around all this, but I’m… I don’t know!”
Trixie slowly nodded. “Fair enough.”
“I’m supposed to see him this evening, and I haven’t the faintest idea what I’m going to say to him.”
“Why not the truth?” Trixie suggested. “Tell him what you just told me. And if you want to see where things could go, you can, but make sure he knows up front that you aren’t sure of anything at this point.”
“I don’t want to hurt him, Trix.”
“I know. But it may happen. You can’t make yourself fall in love with him.”
Di shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “Yeah.” She fell silent, staring at the few cars passing on the road while Trixie finished her cone. Finally, she shifted her gaze back to her friend. “So, actually, I didn’t ask you here to talk about Dan. Well, no, I guess that’s not entirely true. Of course we were going to talk about Dan. But, um, I really wanted to ask you something else. It’s kind of a big favor. An enormous one.”
Trixie arched one brow. “I haven’t heard any of the guys on the force talking about how many traffic tickets they’ve issued you, so I’m assuming you aren’t about to ask me to illegally wipe your record clean.”
Chuckling, Di shook her head. A dark lock of hair fell forward across her shoulder, and she impatiently flipped it back again. “No. I’m not asking you to commit a felony or whatever that would be. I don’t know how else to ask this, so I’m just going to come right out and say it. Can I move in with you?”
“Sure.”
Di blinked and laughed again. “Okay. That was easy.”
“You thought it was gonna be hard? Di, I have five bedrooms. Five! Take one. Take two! You can sleep in one and use the other as a closet. C’mon! You know I have plenty of room. My only caution is that you need to be aware I can keep some odd hours so I could be coming and going at any time, day or night.”
“That won’t bother me at all,” Di said, waving one hand. “But, um, there is more. I can’t really afford to pay much.”
“It wasn’t like I was going to charge you, for Pete’s sake!” Trixie said, rolling her eyes.
“Well, I’d like to help with the utilities, at least,” Di offered. “As much as I can.”
Trixie eyed her friend thoughtfully. “Di? What’s going on here? I find it hard to believe your parents have kicked you out and cut you off.”
Di flushed and sighed. “No. Of course they didn’t. This is about me. I’m really excited about opening my shop. And I did get a loan from Daddy for that, but I am determined to pay it off as quickly as possible. I’m tired of feeling like some useless, bubble-headed rich girl. I look at all you guys… you and Dan have been working for the SHPD for several years now and you’re even the new chief! Jim’s got his school opening up… everyone is out there, doing their thing, and I feel like I’m still just some college girl with no real responsibilities or job or anything. I want to do more. Succeed on my own merit, not only because I’ve got next to limitless access to my dad’s money.”
Trixie shook her head. “You remember what Professor Tetlow always said in our psych class? For a lot of people, there’s no worse critic than ourselves. You need to quit being so down on yourself. First of all, your designs are gorgeous. And you’re about to get a real boost in notice, because you can bet McKayla will be all over the society pages after the wedding next week. People will see your jewelry worn by Matthew Wheeler’s new daughter-in-law, and I guarantee they'll be paying attention. Second, you’re actively working to open your own store. Not many people can ever make that claim. Di, you shouldn’t be feeling useless. You should be proud of yourself.”
Di bit down on her lower lip before sending Trixie a self-conscious smile. “Thanks,” she murmured. “I guess I needed to hear that. But anyway, I thought living in town would be good because I’d be closer to the shop for one. Not that we’re really that far away out on Glen Road, but it would be nice to be in town. And also, while we were away at school, I forgot how much of a pain it is living with the twins. The family estate may be huge, but somehow? It’s still not big enough!”
Trixie grinned at that. “Yeah. You’ve got Bobby, times four.”
“It’s insane,” Di said with feeling.
“Well, pack your bags. You can move in any time. I’ll have a key made for you tomorrow.”
“Thanks, Trix. You really are an amazing friend.”
“Ah, but I’ve thought of a price for my generosity.”
“Uh, oh.” Di’s lips twitched with a suppressed smile. “Lay it on me.”
“The mayor wants me to go to the Chamber of Commerce meeting Tuesday night and make nice with all the local business folks. You should come along. You’re about to be one of their number, and you can take the socializing pressure off me.”
“Deal," Di said quickly. "That’s really not much of a price, though. It would actually be a good idea for me to go and even apply for membership.” Di wiped her hands on her last clean napkin then gathered up her trash. She leaned back in her chair, stretching out so that she could reach the garbage can a few feet behind her. “And now that I’m done making things all about me, let’s talk about you.”
“Huh?”
“I want to know how you’re doing. How you’re really doing. You’ve lost your mentor. Your ex is getting married in less than a week. You’ve been promoted to a high stress job you weren’t expecting. Do you honestly need me to tell you what Professor Tetlow would have had to say about that?”
“I’m pretty sure I can guess,” Trixie said wryly. “I’m… okay.” She held up both hands to forestall Di’s interruption. “I am,” she insisted. “But, I think having you as a roommate again will be good. Great, actually. Bernado Garza told me this morning I’m in danger of becoming just like Chief Molinson with no social life whatsoever, and he’s right. If you move in, that’ll help, I’m sure.”
“Which one is he again? The Hispanic guy with the nice ass, I’m guessing?”
“The one with all the kids,” Trixie replied. “I offer no comments on his anatomy.”
“Which is the Trixie way of saying, ‘Yeah. The guy with the nice ass.’ Sounds like he must be a good cop, too. Very observant.” Di pushed her chair back and stood. She waved to the Reybournes. “Here,” she called. “We’re done. You can have our table.”
Clifford Reybourne guided his wife toward them, moving around a young couple with a baby in a high chair. “Thank you, Diana,” he said pleasantly. “And good afternoon, Chief. Sorry again about last night.”
Trixie glanced down at her arms. “Next time? I’m calling Captain Grieg. I still maintain that it’s a fireman’s job to rescue dumb cats.” She rose and collected the remains of her treat. “I will let you know if anything comes from the Great Bush Massacre’s investigation, sir, but I’m not counting on it.”
As they walked back to their parked vehicles, Trixie found her thoughts drifting to the stack of files pertaining to the Cold Lake killings she had waiting for her at home. Dan’s notes on the information he’d found in the archives were precise and methodical, but they left her with more questions than answers. “Di?”
“Yeah?”
“There’s something else you could do for me. Beyond coming to the Chamber of Commerce meeting.”
“Name it.”
“All right, but, I’m going to have to ask you to not ask any questions about it, okay? Just know that it has something to do with an investigation that right now needs to stay very quiet.”
Di’s expression revealed her curious interest, but she nodded in agreement to Trixie’s request.
“I want to go to the Golden Life Center tomorrow, to talk to Chloe Butler. She’s Judge Butler’s widow. The thing is, I don’t want anyone to know what I’m doing. If I show up alone, that could attract unwanted attention. But if you and I go together, maybe we could pose it like some sort of good neighbor visit or something.”
“How about we enlist Honey, too?” Di suggested. “I can pick up a couple of boxes of greeting cards from C & J’s. Something with some kind of generic friendly message. We can give them to all the residents, and make sure you’re the one who visits Mrs. Butler.”
“Excellent," Trixie said, shooting Di an impressed look. "Maybe you should be a cop, too.”
Di laughed easily. “Naw. I just picked up a few tricks from you and Honey and Dan over the years, but it’s not really my thing. What time do you want to go?”
“Is ten o’clock too early?”
“Not for me. I’ll give Honey a call and see if she’s free. If not, I can ask Ruthie, or would that be letting too many people know you’re working on something secret?”
“Um. No. I trust Ruthie. But let’s keep it only between us and possibly Honey for now. Ruthie’s a doll, but she does tend to talk a lot and has never been great at keeping things confidential. I’m amazed the whole town isn’t already talking about my bombshell from Friday night.”
“Yeah, well, I sorta threatened to cut her off if she breathed a word about that.”
“Cut her off?” Trixie echoed, suddenly frowning. “Di…?”
“Relax, Chief!” Di exclaimed with a wide grin. “You don’t have to bust me for dealing. I’ve been letting Ruthie have a lot of my design samples and leftovers. I told her I wouldn’t give her even one more bangle or earring if I found out she’d talked about me and Dan and what you said.”
“That would explain it,” Trixie murmured with a short laugh. “Okay. Let’s plan on meeting at Golden Life a little before ten tomorrow. You sure you don’t mind getting the cards?”
“Not at all. I’ll even take the liberty of signing them all from ‘The Bob-Whites of the Glen.’ That ought to generate a few questions and while Honey and I prattle on about our old club, you can do whatever it is you need to do.”
Trixie gave her friend a brief hug. “Thanks. I really appreciate this.”
“Are you kidding me? You’re letting me move in to your house! I think I could manage this much.”
“And about tonight? If things don’t go well, do me a favor and call me and let me know, okay?”
“I will. But I hope… well. We’ll see. Dan is a great guy. This could turn out to be something absolutely wonderful.”
“That’s what I’m hoping for,” Trixie told her. “For both of you.”
Trixie arrived home to find her house marginally cooler than it had been when she left it about forty minutes before with the air conditioning set at 75 degrees. Resolved to not even think about how scary her next electric bill would be, she poured herself an ice water, gathered up all the Cold Lake files, and went to make herself as comfortable as possible in the sunroom, turning the ceiling fan to high.
She studied Stephen Butler’s autopsy report, appalled by the lack of detail. While she tried to convince herself that it was because the 1970s were simply another time and another era, she knew, even by that decade’s standards, the report was badly done. It should have set off all sorts of red flags, but of course, at the time, the department had been consumed by the Timmons and Jackson investigation. Now, as she looked at the incomplete documents in Stephen Butler’s file, she couldn’t shake the nagging thought that maybe there had been three murders that awful week in July of 1976, not just two.
She was so intent on what she was reading, the buzzing of her cell phone caused her to physically jump in her seat. She grabbed it from the table and answered. “Hey.”
“Hey, Miss Fidget. What are you doing right now?”
“Uh… work stuff.”
“I thought this was supposed to be your day off? This is the second time today I've caught you working.”
“This is different. I'm reading through some files. Why are you asking, anyway? Don’t tell me you just found an unmarked grave in the preserve or anything. I think the department’s maxed out on major cases at the moment.”
Regan chuckled quietly. “No. I’m not calling you because you’re the new chief of police and I have a crime to report.”
“So… you’re calling me because?”
“I just got off the phone with Dan. He told me what happened Friday night. Why you were so upset.”
“Big mouth,” Trixie grumbled. “Yeah. I messed up. But hang on. He told you everything? So you know about…?”
“His years-long obsession with the lovely Diana Lynch?” Regan snorted softly. “I have no clue why either one of you ever thought that was a secret only you knew about.”
Trixie sank back in her chair. “Oh, crap. Are you telling me lots of other people knew, too?”
“Lots? I have no idea. But I certainly knew. He’s my nephew. Of course I’m going to pick up on something like that.”
“Well, thanks to my big mouth, the cat’s out of the bag now,” Trixie said, sighing. “I’m praying it will all work out and be a good thing, though.”
“He’s meeting her for dinner tonight.”
“I know. I just saw her. They’re going to talk and I suppose at some point we’ll hear how it goes.”
“I think we can be fairly optimistic there,” Regan said, “unless I miss my guess entirely. So this ‘work stuff.’ Is it something that can’t possibly wait until tomorrow?”
“Not necessarily,” Trixie replied slowly. “Is there something you need me to do, beyond construct a crime scene around an unmarked grave?”
“I know you don’t work for me anymore, but I was wondering how you felt about a moonlit ride tonight?”
“Whoa. Hang on while I pick my jaw up from the floor. Captain Grumpy Pants, actually suggesting someone take his babies out in the dark and dangerous night? When’s the last time you even let that happen? I think the night before I graduated high school, yeah? And didn’t we have to beg you to get you to agree to it?”
He didn’t answer immediately. When he did, his tone was noticeably wry. “Honey and Di begged,” he told her. “You just had to ask. It’s been too hot lately to really exercise the horses during the day, so I thought we could at least take Jupiter and Strawberry out tonight. Go for a ride around the lake. What do you say?”
“I say it sounds nice. What time do you want me to be there?”
“Eight?”
“Eight it is, then,” Trixie confirmed. “I’ll see you then.”
At six o’clock, Trixie made herself a piece of toast and ate it with half a can of sliced peaches, again reminding herself how urgently she needed to make a trip to the grocery store. She took a quick shower, her second for the day, and dressed in an old, worn pair of jeans and a dark blue Yankees t-shirt she’d received as a gift from a college friend her junior year.
As she was letting herself out the back door, the kitchen phone jangled. She stared at it for a moment, then decided to let it go. Her crank caller would have to try again in the morning. If it was anybody else, she assumed he or she would try her on her cell next.
The drive back out to Glen Road was considerably more pleasant compared to earlier in the afternoon. Under the last rays of the fading sun, the worst of the heat was tempered by a cool evening breeze. It was still warmer than Trixie found truly comfortable, but at least she no longer felt like she was broiling or needed to check her skin for blisters. She slowed as a red fox darted across the road, no doubt on the hunt for his supper, and then turned up the long drive to the Manor House estate.
Regan was in the stable, saddling Jupiter as she strolled in. She breathed in deeply and smiled. “You know, I do miss working here,” she told him as he turned to greet her.
“It’s not like you aren’t welcome to drop by any time you want,” he pointed out.
Trixie winced and glanced back over her shoulder toward the Wheelers’ grand home. “I know,” she mumbled. “But, uh, at least lately… you know.” She trailed off with a crooked grin and a shrug.
Regan exhaled heavily. “They’ll be moving into Ten Acres when they return from their honeymoon,” he said. “There won’t be as much of a chance of running into McKayla after that.”
“I know. And to be fair, maybe it’s more me than I’ve been willing to admit? I wasn’t exactly the friendliest person you could meet when Jim first introduced her to everyone. From everything I’ve heard, she’s a really nice woman when I’m not around.”
“You have nothing to feel guilty about,” Regan said shortly. He frowned for a moment, then turned back to Jupiter. “I already saddled Strawberry for you.”
“I see that. But what you don’t know is that between that and the whole idea of a nighttime ride, I’m standing here wondering if that unmarked grave actually belongs to the real William Regan, and you’re some kind of kooky alien replacement.”
“Ha! Sadly, I think you’d like alien me better.”
“Well…” Trixie wrinkled her nose and grinned. “If alien you is responsible for letting me ride after dark and for saddling a horse for me… two things that are both awesomely cool, by the way, could you really blame me if I did?”
“I’m going to take that as some sort of vague compliment and not think any harder about it,” he responded, laughing softly. “Being that I really am still me and not buried somewhere in the preserve waiting for your discovery.”
“That’s good,” Trixie said, keeping her expression serious. “Because if you were alien you, no matter how much I liked you, I’d still have to take you down for killing real you. And that would mean all sorts of troublesome paperwork. Not to mention the probable collapse of society as we know it because we’d finally have proof that identity-stealing aliens are among us.”
Regan looked over at her. “This? Would be one of those times where I remind you that you are definitely nuttier than a bag of trail mix.”
Trixie burst out laughing and crossed to where Strawberry stood, patiently waiting for a rider. “You know what? I think I’ll just borrow a page from your book and take that as a compliment, too.”
His smile was soft, but warm. “You should, Miss Fidget. You always should.”
She could see the waves of heat shimmering on the road as she drove into town. She turned onto 3rd Street and noted there were very few people out and about. Ordinarily, Sunday afternoon was a time when Sleepyside residents were found leisurely strolling through the town square, shopping up and down Main Street, or visiting Founders Park. The near record-breaking temperatures had driven people indoors, however, and the traffic was light in all directions.
She sighed as she considered the weather. Aside from her personal discomfort, there were other, much greater concerns. Not all homes had air conditioning. As the heat wave continued, there was a real and considerable risk for the health and safety of those suffering in the sweltering conditions, especially the elderly. Beyond that, hot temperatures always seemed to equate with hot tempers. They could expect an increase in everything from bar fights to domestic violence cases.
The buzzing of her cell phone pulled her out of her morose thoughts. She glanced at the ID and saw that it was a local number. “This is Acting Chief Belden,” she said as she answered.
“Chief? It’s Garza.”
His voice sounded slightly mechanic through the phone’s small speaker. She made a mental note to record his number in her contact list and realized she needed to do so with all the officers on the force who weren’t already programmed in. “You’ve talked with the Greysons?” she asked, slowing to turn onto her narrow driveway.
“Yeah. Good news, I guess. Got a positive ID on the photos.”
“That is good news,” she said firmly. “Let Holt know. And get copies of those pictures out to the pawn shops in Harrisonville and Pearson to start. Maybe we’ll get lucky and get a hit. If not, we can expand the search.”
“Will do.” He paused for a moment, then chuckled. “Go home, Chief. We’ll see you at the station tomorrow.”
“I am home,” she told him.
“Which is why you have me on speaker phone? And for the record, I know what a car with a blinker on sounds like. I could hear your turn signal ticking in the background a moment ago.”
She winced, but then laughed ruefully. “It’s because I only just got home and haven’t even gotten out of my Jeep yet. But just so you know, the only reason I wasn’t here already is because I went to see my folks. It wasn’t work related.”
“Uh, huh. I’m going to go with the assumption you’re telling the truth. For now. You have a good evening, Chief.”
“You, too, Garza. Thanks for giving me the update.” She smiled as she disconnected the call. It was funny that she’d never really associated much with Bernado Garza before her unexpected promotion. Granted, they hadn’t often worked the same shifts together, but still, she’d never realized she was missing out on another potentially good friend on the force.
Her phone buzzed again as she was unlocking the back door to her house, this time accompanied by a familiar ring tone. “Hey, Di. What’s up?” she asked as she let herself in. “Oh, damn.”
“Trix?” Di asked, her voice betraying her concern. “Are you all right?”
“Yeah. Sorry. I guess I didn’t turn on the AC before I left this morning. I thought it was hot in the Jeep, but my house is like a freakin’ furnace.”
“Well, that sounds like a good excuse to meet me at Ralph’s for some ice cream.”
“Uh… okay?” Trixie set her purse down on her kitchen counter. “Can I change clothes first?”
“Sure. How about I see you there in twenty minutes?”
“Sounds good.”
Ralph’s Old Fashioned Ice Cream Parlor sat in the middle of a block on 6th Street, behind the elementary school and close to a two-story, red brick apartment building with many young families for residents. Location-wise, Ralph’s was in a prime spot for its market. For almost as long as anyone could remember, it had been owned and run by Marybelle Smith, a New York City transplant who bought the shop from its original owner, Ralph Murphy, in the early 80s. At some point, the local children began calling Marybelle “Ralphie,” and she’d gamely gone along with the nickname.
A narrow shop sandwiched between O’Neil’s Bookstore and Classy Cuts Salon, Ralph’s was a Sleepyside favorite rivaled only by Wimpy’s Diner in popularity. A red and white awning shaded the sidewalk and eating area, and Ralphie paid local artists to paint scenes, typically involving children and holidays, on the large window that ran most of the length of the storefront.
Di was sitting at one of the four small, black iron tables out front when Trixie arrived. “Before you ask?" Trixie said, holding out both arms. "My bandages are all courtesy of Mr. Tibbles stuck in a tree. Yes. I actually had to rescue a treed cat.”
“Oh, boy. I guess your bucket list is complete now, huh?” Di said in amusement. “You’ll have to come up with a new one.” She paused to brush a fly away from the table. “It’s been so long since I’ve had a Ralph’s cone. Remember when we used to come here when we were kids? And we’d always get bubble gum ice cream and see which one of us had the most pieces of bubble gum after we’d eaten all the ice cream first?”
“I remember,” Trixie replied with a quick grin. “We’d walk over here from your apartment after telling your brothers we were going to the library to study, just so they wouldn’t feel bad or try to tag along. And If I’m not mistaken, you held the record at twenty-two pieces.”
“Uh, huh. I was really tempted to order us two scoops when I got here. But then I decided to be good and get some frozen yogurt. I wasn’t sure what you wanted, but I paid for a single for you. Ralphie said you can go straight to the counter and tell her what flavor you want. You don’t have to wait in line.”
“Thanks,” Trixie said gratefully. “At this point I’d take just about anything simply to cool off.” A few minutes later, she was back out on the sidewalk, holding a sugar cone with Rocky Road. She pulled out the other chair at Di’s table and dropped down.
They ate their treats in companionable silence for a few minutes, before Di sat back in her seat, pushing her bangs up off her forehead. “I know you probably think I asked you to meet me because I wanted to talk about Dan,” she began.
“Didn’t you?” Trixie asked quietly. “Honey said you were mad at me Friday night.”
“Oh, I was. Only, not really. I wasn’t. I wasn’t making much sense at all after you dropped that bomb on me. I was so… thrown off guard. I still am, honestly.” She frowned slightly. “I understand you couldn’t say anything to me, but can you at least tell me know how long you’ve known?”
“Years,” Trixie admitted reluctantly. “It didn’t take me long to figure out. He’s always staring at you when he knows you aren’t paying attention, and holy dear diary! He’ll go on and on about you if you don’t stop him. I sorta backed him into a corner and pushed him to confess he’s crazy about you, all the way back when we were still in high school.”
“I had no idea,” Di told her. “None.”
“I know.”
“I mean, I can remember those nights we’d have sleepovers with Honey and gossip about the boys, and we all agreed Dan’s definitely a bucket of yum, but, to be honest, I thought you were the one living in denial.”
“Me?” Trixie huffed out a breath. “Why is it so hard for everyone to grasp that Dan and I are only friends?”
“Because you’re so close, Trix. I’ve known plenty of couples who don’t have nearly the close relationship you two have.”
“I know I have three brothers already, so this probably does sound strange, but that’s exactly how I feel about Dan, too. He is very much like a brother to me.”
Di studied her intently. “Are you sure, Trixie? Are you really, really sure?”
“Yes!” Trixie exclaimed. “I’m sure!”
Di held up a hand in a conciliatory gesture. “Okay! Okay. I’m only asking because you know I wouldn’t even consider going out with him if I thought it would hurt you, right?”
Trixie frowned, looking down. She twisted her paper napkin tightly and wrapped it around her fingers. “Di? You aren’t going to hurt me by dating Dan. Not at all. But… but I need to know right now if you’re only thinking about going out with him casually. To have a good time. He wants a lot more than that, and… you could hurt him. Bad. I’m not saying that you have to be serious about him, because if you don’t feel that way, well, you don’t feel that way. But please tell me now, so I can be ready to pick up the pieces, okay?”
Di breathed in and out slowly before answering. “I don’t know. I’m not trying to be difficult or cagey. I just don’t know. I think I always thought he was secretly in love with you, so I never let myself even consider any possibilities beyond friendship. Now I’m trying to wrap my mind around all this, but I’m… I don’t know!”
Trixie slowly nodded. “Fair enough.”
“I’m supposed to see him this evening, and I haven’t the faintest idea what I’m going to say to him.”
“Why not the truth?” Trixie suggested. “Tell him what you just told me. And if you want to see where things could go, you can, but make sure he knows up front that you aren’t sure of anything at this point.”
“I don’t want to hurt him, Trix.”
“I know. But it may happen. You can’t make yourself fall in love with him.”
Di shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “Yeah.” She fell silent, staring at the few cars passing on the road while Trixie finished her cone. Finally, she shifted her gaze back to her friend. “So, actually, I didn’t ask you here to talk about Dan. Well, no, I guess that’s not entirely true. Of course we were going to talk about Dan. But, um, I really wanted to ask you something else. It’s kind of a big favor. An enormous one.”
Trixie arched one brow. “I haven’t heard any of the guys on the force talking about how many traffic tickets they’ve issued you, so I’m assuming you aren’t about to ask me to illegally wipe your record clean.”
Chuckling, Di shook her head. A dark lock of hair fell forward across her shoulder, and she impatiently flipped it back again. “No. I’m not asking you to commit a felony or whatever that would be. I don’t know how else to ask this, so I’m just going to come right out and say it. Can I move in with you?”
“Sure.”
Di blinked and laughed again. “Okay. That was easy.”
“You thought it was gonna be hard? Di, I have five bedrooms. Five! Take one. Take two! You can sleep in one and use the other as a closet. C’mon! You know I have plenty of room. My only caution is that you need to be aware I can keep some odd hours so I could be coming and going at any time, day or night.”
“That won’t bother me at all,” Di said, waving one hand. “But, um, there is more. I can’t really afford to pay much.”
“It wasn’t like I was going to charge you, for Pete’s sake!” Trixie said, rolling her eyes.
“Well, I’d like to help with the utilities, at least,” Di offered. “As much as I can.”
Trixie eyed her friend thoughtfully. “Di? What’s going on here? I find it hard to believe your parents have kicked you out and cut you off.”
Di flushed and sighed. “No. Of course they didn’t. This is about me. I’m really excited about opening my shop. And I did get a loan from Daddy for that, but I am determined to pay it off as quickly as possible. I’m tired of feeling like some useless, bubble-headed rich girl. I look at all you guys… you and Dan have been working for the SHPD for several years now and you’re even the new chief! Jim’s got his school opening up… everyone is out there, doing their thing, and I feel like I’m still just some college girl with no real responsibilities or job or anything. I want to do more. Succeed on my own merit, not only because I’ve got next to limitless access to my dad’s money.”
Trixie shook her head. “You remember what Professor Tetlow always said in our psych class? For a lot of people, there’s no worse critic than ourselves. You need to quit being so down on yourself. First of all, your designs are gorgeous. And you’re about to get a real boost in notice, because you can bet McKayla will be all over the society pages after the wedding next week. People will see your jewelry worn by Matthew Wheeler’s new daughter-in-law, and I guarantee they'll be paying attention. Second, you’re actively working to open your own store. Not many people can ever make that claim. Di, you shouldn’t be feeling useless. You should be proud of yourself.”
Di bit down on her lower lip before sending Trixie a self-conscious smile. “Thanks,” she murmured. “I guess I needed to hear that. But anyway, I thought living in town would be good because I’d be closer to the shop for one. Not that we’re really that far away out on Glen Road, but it would be nice to be in town. And also, while we were away at school, I forgot how much of a pain it is living with the twins. The family estate may be huge, but somehow? It’s still not big enough!”
Trixie grinned at that. “Yeah. You’ve got Bobby, times four.”
“It’s insane,” Di said with feeling.
“Well, pack your bags. You can move in any time. I’ll have a key made for you tomorrow.”
“Thanks, Trix. You really are an amazing friend.”
“Ah, but I’ve thought of a price for my generosity.”
“Uh, oh.” Di’s lips twitched with a suppressed smile. “Lay it on me.”
“The mayor wants me to go to the Chamber of Commerce meeting Tuesday night and make nice with all the local business folks. You should come along. You’re about to be one of their number, and you can take the socializing pressure off me.”
“Deal," Di said quickly. "That’s really not much of a price, though. It would actually be a good idea for me to go and even apply for membership.” Di wiped her hands on her last clean napkin then gathered up her trash. She leaned back in her chair, stretching out so that she could reach the garbage can a few feet behind her. “And now that I’m done making things all about me, let’s talk about you.”
“Huh?”
“I want to know how you’re doing. How you’re really doing. You’ve lost your mentor. Your ex is getting married in less than a week. You’ve been promoted to a high stress job you weren’t expecting. Do you honestly need me to tell you what Professor Tetlow would have had to say about that?”
“I’m pretty sure I can guess,” Trixie said wryly. “I’m… okay.” She held up both hands to forestall Di’s interruption. “I am,” she insisted. “But, I think having you as a roommate again will be good. Great, actually. Bernado Garza told me this morning I’m in danger of becoming just like Chief Molinson with no social life whatsoever, and he’s right. If you move in, that’ll help, I’m sure.”
“Which one is he again? The Hispanic guy with the nice ass, I’m guessing?”
“The one with all the kids,” Trixie replied. “I offer no comments on his anatomy.”
“Which is the Trixie way of saying, ‘Yeah. The guy with the nice ass.’ Sounds like he must be a good cop, too. Very observant.” Di pushed her chair back and stood. She waved to the Reybournes. “Here,” she called. “We’re done. You can have our table.”
Clifford Reybourne guided his wife toward them, moving around a young couple with a baby in a high chair. “Thank you, Diana,” he said pleasantly. “And good afternoon, Chief. Sorry again about last night.”
Trixie glanced down at her arms. “Next time? I’m calling Captain Grieg. I still maintain that it’s a fireman’s job to rescue dumb cats.” She rose and collected the remains of her treat. “I will let you know if anything comes from the Great Bush Massacre’s investigation, sir, but I’m not counting on it.”
As they walked back to their parked vehicles, Trixie found her thoughts drifting to the stack of files pertaining to the Cold Lake killings she had waiting for her at home. Dan’s notes on the information he’d found in the archives were precise and methodical, but they left her with more questions than answers. “Di?”
“Yeah?”
“There’s something else you could do for me. Beyond coming to the Chamber of Commerce meeting.”
“Name it.”
“All right, but, I’m going to have to ask you to not ask any questions about it, okay? Just know that it has something to do with an investigation that right now needs to stay very quiet.”
Di’s expression revealed her curious interest, but she nodded in agreement to Trixie’s request.
“I want to go to the Golden Life Center tomorrow, to talk to Chloe Butler. She’s Judge Butler’s widow. The thing is, I don’t want anyone to know what I’m doing. If I show up alone, that could attract unwanted attention. But if you and I go together, maybe we could pose it like some sort of good neighbor visit or something.”
“How about we enlist Honey, too?” Di suggested. “I can pick up a couple of boxes of greeting cards from C & J’s. Something with some kind of generic friendly message. We can give them to all the residents, and make sure you’re the one who visits Mrs. Butler.”
“Excellent," Trixie said, shooting Di an impressed look. "Maybe you should be a cop, too.”
Di laughed easily. “Naw. I just picked up a few tricks from you and Honey and Dan over the years, but it’s not really my thing. What time do you want to go?”
“Is ten o’clock too early?”
“Not for me. I’ll give Honey a call and see if she’s free. If not, I can ask Ruthie, or would that be letting too many people know you’re working on something secret?”
“Um. No. I trust Ruthie. But let’s keep it only between us and possibly Honey for now. Ruthie’s a doll, but she does tend to talk a lot and has never been great at keeping things confidential. I’m amazed the whole town isn’t already talking about my bombshell from Friday night.”
“Yeah, well, I sorta threatened to cut her off if she breathed a word about that.”
“Cut her off?” Trixie echoed, suddenly frowning. “Di…?”
“Relax, Chief!” Di exclaimed with a wide grin. “You don’t have to bust me for dealing. I’ve been letting Ruthie have a lot of my design samples and leftovers. I told her I wouldn’t give her even one more bangle or earring if I found out she’d talked about me and Dan and what you said.”
“That would explain it,” Trixie murmured with a short laugh. “Okay. Let’s plan on meeting at Golden Life a little before ten tomorrow. You sure you don’t mind getting the cards?”
“Not at all. I’ll even take the liberty of signing them all from ‘The Bob-Whites of the Glen.’ That ought to generate a few questions and while Honey and I prattle on about our old club, you can do whatever it is you need to do.”
Trixie gave her friend a brief hug. “Thanks. I really appreciate this.”
“Are you kidding me? You’re letting me move in to your house! I think I could manage this much.”
“And about tonight? If things don’t go well, do me a favor and call me and let me know, okay?”
“I will. But I hope… well. We’ll see. Dan is a great guy. This could turn out to be something absolutely wonderful.”
“That’s what I’m hoping for,” Trixie told her. “For both of you.”
Trixie arrived home to find her house marginally cooler than it had been when she left it about forty minutes before with the air conditioning set at 75 degrees. Resolved to not even think about how scary her next electric bill would be, she poured herself an ice water, gathered up all the Cold Lake files, and went to make herself as comfortable as possible in the sunroom, turning the ceiling fan to high.
She studied Stephen Butler’s autopsy report, appalled by the lack of detail. While she tried to convince herself that it was because the 1970s were simply another time and another era, she knew, even by that decade’s standards, the report was badly done. It should have set off all sorts of red flags, but of course, at the time, the department had been consumed by the Timmons and Jackson investigation. Now, as she looked at the incomplete documents in Stephen Butler’s file, she couldn’t shake the nagging thought that maybe there had been three murders that awful week in July of 1976, not just two.
She was so intent on what she was reading, the buzzing of her cell phone caused her to physically jump in her seat. She grabbed it from the table and answered. “Hey.”
“Hey, Miss Fidget. What are you doing right now?”
“Uh… work stuff.”
“I thought this was supposed to be your day off? This is the second time today I've caught you working.”
“This is different. I'm reading through some files. Why are you asking, anyway? Don’t tell me you just found an unmarked grave in the preserve or anything. I think the department’s maxed out on major cases at the moment.”
Regan chuckled quietly. “No. I’m not calling you because you’re the new chief of police and I have a crime to report.”
“So… you’re calling me because?”
“I just got off the phone with Dan. He told me what happened Friday night. Why you were so upset.”
“Big mouth,” Trixie grumbled. “Yeah. I messed up. But hang on. He told you everything? So you know about…?”
“His years-long obsession with the lovely Diana Lynch?” Regan snorted softly. “I have no clue why either one of you ever thought that was a secret only you knew about.”
Trixie sank back in her chair. “Oh, crap. Are you telling me lots of other people knew, too?”
“Lots? I have no idea. But I certainly knew. He’s my nephew. Of course I’m going to pick up on something like that.”
“Well, thanks to my big mouth, the cat’s out of the bag now,” Trixie said, sighing. “I’m praying it will all work out and be a good thing, though.”
“He’s meeting her for dinner tonight.”
“I know. I just saw her. They’re going to talk and I suppose at some point we’ll hear how it goes.”
“I think we can be fairly optimistic there,” Regan said, “unless I miss my guess entirely. So this ‘work stuff.’ Is it something that can’t possibly wait until tomorrow?”
“Not necessarily,” Trixie replied slowly. “Is there something you need me to do, beyond construct a crime scene around an unmarked grave?”
“I know you don’t work for me anymore, but I was wondering how you felt about a moonlit ride tonight?”
“Whoa. Hang on while I pick my jaw up from the floor. Captain Grumpy Pants, actually suggesting someone take his babies out in the dark and dangerous night? When’s the last time you even let that happen? I think the night before I graduated high school, yeah? And didn’t we have to beg you to get you to agree to it?”
He didn’t answer immediately. When he did, his tone was noticeably wry. “Honey and Di begged,” he told her. “You just had to ask. It’s been too hot lately to really exercise the horses during the day, so I thought we could at least take Jupiter and Strawberry out tonight. Go for a ride around the lake. What do you say?”
“I say it sounds nice. What time do you want me to be there?”
“Eight?”
“Eight it is, then,” Trixie confirmed. “I’ll see you then.”
At six o’clock, Trixie made herself a piece of toast and ate it with half a can of sliced peaches, again reminding herself how urgently she needed to make a trip to the grocery store. She took a quick shower, her second for the day, and dressed in an old, worn pair of jeans and a dark blue Yankees t-shirt she’d received as a gift from a college friend her junior year.
As she was letting herself out the back door, the kitchen phone jangled. She stared at it for a moment, then decided to let it go. Her crank caller would have to try again in the morning. If it was anybody else, she assumed he or she would try her on her cell next.
The drive back out to Glen Road was considerably more pleasant compared to earlier in the afternoon. Under the last rays of the fading sun, the worst of the heat was tempered by a cool evening breeze. It was still warmer than Trixie found truly comfortable, but at least she no longer felt like she was broiling or needed to check her skin for blisters. She slowed as a red fox darted across the road, no doubt on the hunt for his supper, and then turned up the long drive to the Manor House estate.
Regan was in the stable, saddling Jupiter as she strolled in. She breathed in deeply and smiled. “You know, I do miss working here,” she told him as he turned to greet her.
“It’s not like you aren’t welcome to drop by any time you want,” he pointed out.
Trixie winced and glanced back over her shoulder toward the Wheelers’ grand home. “I know,” she mumbled. “But, uh, at least lately… you know.” She trailed off with a crooked grin and a shrug.
Regan exhaled heavily. “They’ll be moving into Ten Acres when they return from their honeymoon,” he said. “There won’t be as much of a chance of running into McKayla after that.”
“I know. And to be fair, maybe it’s more me than I’ve been willing to admit? I wasn’t exactly the friendliest person you could meet when Jim first introduced her to everyone. From everything I’ve heard, she’s a really nice woman when I’m not around.”
“You have nothing to feel guilty about,” Regan said shortly. He frowned for a moment, then turned back to Jupiter. “I already saddled Strawberry for you.”
“I see that. But what you don’t know is that between that and the whole idea of a nighttime ride, I’m standing here wondering if that unmarked grave actually belongs to the real William Regan, and you’re some kind of kooky alien replacement.”
“Ha! Sadly, I think you’d like alien me better.”
“Well…” Trixie wrinkled her nose and grinned. “If alien you is responsible for letting me ride after dark and for saddling a horse for me… two things that are both awesomely cool, by the way, could you really blame me if I did?”
“I’m going to take that as some sort of vague compliment and not think any harder about it,” he responded, laughing softly. “Being that I really am still me and not buried somewhere in the preserve waiting for your discovery.”
“That’s good,” Trixie said, keeping her expression serious. “Because if you were alien you, no matter how much I liked you, I’d still have to take you down for killing real you. And that would mean all sorts of troublesome paperwork. Not to mention the probable collapse of society as we know it because we’d finally have proof that identity-stealing aliens are among us.”
Regan looked over at her. “This? Would be one of those times where I remind you that you are definitely nuttier than a bag of trail mix.”
Trixie burst out laughing and crossed to where Strawberry stood, patiently waiting for a rider. “You know what? I think I’ll just borrow a page from your book and take that as a compliment, too.”
His smile was soft, but warm. “You should, Miss Fidget. You always should.”