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Part Three
As a
reminder, Jim has reason to suspect Ten Acres Academy has been broken into.
As Al searches for any sign of the intruder, Jim and Marge wait anxiously for
any news. Marge sat in the chair across from Jim, nervously
twisting her hands as she waited for Al to return from his perimeter check of
the first floor. The seconds felt like hours as they ticked by slowly. After
Al had gone, she’d turned the knob on the deadbolt as he’d asked her to do.
Once that short task was accomplished, she was at a loss for what to do next.
She
decided to just sit there and worry, since that’s what she would likely end
up doing anyway. Marge
had been anxious to discuss the recent addition to the staff. However, it was
obvious that now wasn’t the best time. Jim felt even more helpless and
worried than she— rightfully so— and was doing whatever he could to keep
busy and take his mind off the situation. Marge watched silently as Jim’s
fingers flew over his keyboard, the phone receiver tucked under his ear. “Mike?”
Jim began when the head dorm monitor answered. “Both the second and third
floors are clear, so I’m unlocking the doors… Yeah, you can take the kids
down to the cafeteria. The first floor’s off limits, though, since we’re
still on lockdown here… Okay, I’ll be up as soon as we know everything’s
secure. See you in a bit.” Jim
replaced the phone in the cradle, his shoulders drooping from the added
weight of his worries. He looked up at Marge, his green eyes dark with
concern. “Some morning, huh?” Marge
nodded sympathetically. “It certainly has been interesting, and it’s only “Sure,”
he replied, shrugging. “How’s your brother? I forgot to ask when we spoke
earlier. I haven’t seen Frank since that last time the Bob-Whites visited
Pirates Point.” “Frank’s
doing very well, but that wasn’t what I wanted to discuss.” Marge sat down in
the chair directly across from Jim’s desk. “What’s going on here at the
school?” “Well,
things have been slower than usual since it’s the January term,” Jim hedged.
“The kids are enjoying their break, and a few are taking advantage of the
extra tutoring sessions to get their grades up. I need to fill a few teaching
positions, but I’m still looking at résumés; nobody’s caught my eye
yet. A couple of the teachers are planning a field trip at the end of the
month to the ski resort—” “That’s
not exactly the sort of information I wanted,” Marge interrupted. She leveled
her eyes at him, making it clear she expected complete honesty. “How bad has
the situation with your stalker gotten?” Jim
slowly released a labored sigh. “Until now, it was the same,” he told her,
his mouth pinched in irritation. “He’d only been communicating by the
letters. I had no reason to suspect that he’d actually break into the
school.” Marge
reached over the desk and placed a comforting hand on the husky redhead’s
arm. “First of all, we aren’t positive that Ten Acres has been broken
into. Secondly, even if there is an intruder, we don’t know for sure
that it’s the same person who’s been writing the letters. The two incidents
could be completely unrelated.” “Great,”
Jim cracked dryly. “If that’s the case, then I have two potentially
dangerous situations to deal with instead of just one. This keeps getting
better and better. Maybe if I’m really lucky, somebody will start
harassing me by email, and then I could be threatened by three people.
Overachiever that I am, one stalker isn’t nearly enough for me to deal with.” “You’ve
always been the kind of person who sees the glass as being half-empty,
haven’t you?” she asked, her tone sympathetic. Jim
leaned back in his chair, grinned wryly, and lifted both hands in surrender.
“Well, since I’d be admitting failure if I called myself a cynic, I wouldn’t
go that far. I’m more of a realist, and right now, reality bites. But don’t
tell anyone I told you that because I’ll deny saying it.” Marge
smiled sadly at the man across from her. For someone who seemingly had so
much, he truly had very little, and what he did have was precious to him.
“The school of hard knocks isn’t the best place to get an education, is it?” “No,
it’s not.” Green, troubled eyes hesitantly made contact with blue, concerned
ones. “But of course, you know that just as well as I do.” “Yes,
every degree from that particular alma mater is earned,” Marge agreed. She
sighed sadly as she recalled all the unhappiness she’d suffered as a young
person. However, just as quickly as those unpleasant thoughts emerged, they
were shoved back to their usual resting place in the nether regions of her
memory. “Okay,
let’s say that this intruder and the stalker are the same person,” she
continued. “Isn’t it time to call the police?” “The
authorities can not be involved,” Jim said firmly. “If they start
asking questions, I’ll have to explain to them that I broke things off with
Amanda and am engaged to Trixie now. No matter how the cops would try to keep
this quiet, someone would spill the beans. And you know how it is in a small
town. Word will spread like wildfire, and before you know it, the New York
Post will be snooping around.” “You’re
still keeping your relationship with Trixie a secret?” Jim
nodded. “We promised the Woodwards.” “You
mean your parents promised the Woodwards,” Marge corrected. “Regardless
of who made the promise, I intend to keep it.” A guilty frown marred Jim’s
features. “I owe that much to Amanda.” Marge
wisely bit her tongue to keep from giving him her opinion of his former
fiancée. “Jim, I understand that you’re a man of your word, and I respect
that, but you owe it to yourself to report this. You can’t handle this situation
alone. Couldn’t you just call Dan?” Jim
vigorously shook his head. “If I got Dan involved in this mess, I couldn’t
ask him to keep it from Spider. I know Dan would do anything I asked, but I’d
hate to get him into trouble with his superior. For now, I have to keep the
police out of it. And that includes Dan, no matter how I’d appreciate his
help right now.” “Well,
that’s your decision,” Marge commented, displeasure etched on her face. “Have
you considered speaking to someone else about this matter?” “A
couple weeks ago, I hired a private detective.” Marge
chuckled. “Which one: Belden or Wheeler?” “Neither.”
Jim laughed at the shocked expression on the older woman’s face. “However,
the investigator I chose came highly recommended by one-half of the Belden-Wheeler
team.” “I’d
ask which half, but I’m going to assume it was Honey,” Marge remarked with a
snicker. “I certainly can’t imagine Trixie allowing you to hire anyone else
for this job while she’s alive and well.” Jim
grinned as he prepared to burst Marge’s bubble. “Actually, Detective Belden
had the honor of introducing me to the investigator I hired. Trixie worked
with Jack Palmer in California, and she assures me that he’s the best.” A
surprised gasp escaped before Marge could choke it back. “Surely you aren’t
talking about the man she was involved with in Los Angeles?” “Yep,
that’s the guy.” Jim winked at her in a teasing manner. “Surprise, surprise.” “Oh my,” Marge finally managed after a long
pause. “Who are you, and what have you done with the real Jim Frayne? I’d
heard rumors that Pod Jim occasionally stops by Sleepyside, but I had no idea
he was visiting today.” “I
don’t have the faintest idea what you’re implying,” he replied with feigned
innocence. However,
Marge remained unconvinced. “What happened to the jealous, fiery-tempered
redhead who put the fear of God into any man who showed interest in his
‘special’ girl?” Jim
enjoyed a hearty chuckle. “Well, Jealous Jim still shows up every now and
then, but he’s mellowed considerably through the years.” “Mmm-hmm.”
Sarcasm dripped thick as honey from Marge’s reply. “It’s
true,” he insisted. “I’m actually friends with this Jack guy now. I even sent
him a Christmas card.” Marge
cocked a single brow to express her skepticism. “And was it laced with
anthrax?” she inquired accusingly. Jim
assumed his most wounded expression. “Why, Marge, I’m hurt that you’d think
such a thing. I haven’t read the Boy Scout handbook recently, but I think
poisoning your fiancée’s ex-boyfriend is frowned upon.” “Yes,
I’m pretty sure if you poisoned your old nemesis that you’d lose all those
merit badges you’ve earned through the years,” she remarked dryly. “So, what
useful information has this ex-boyfriend dug up for you?” “Well,
we found out that whoever’s sending these letters is slick,” Jim answered.
“Jack has a friend that works in the forensics lab at the LAPD, and Jack took
the letters to him. According to the lab results, our perp hasn’t left a
single fingerprint on any of the letters or envelopes.” “How
about DNA?” Jim
shook his head. “Unfortunately, he used sticker stamps for postage. Also,
instead of licking the adhesive strips on the envelopes to seal them, he
moistened them with water. We’re back to square one.” “Could
Jack tell anything by the writing?” Marge asked. “Yeah,
he thinks it’s a woman.” Jim chuckled incredulously. “Can you believe that?” Marge
gave an almost imperceptible shrug of her slender shoulders. “Actually, I
can. I’d wondered the same thing myself a time or two.” “You
have? What on earth makes you think the culprit’s female?” Jim’s brows
gathered at the bridge of his nose. “Because
of the font the stalker used on the envelopes,” she replied simply. “It’s not
the kind that a man would choose. As a matter of fact, I used that particular
lettering once in a document I was sending on your father’s behalf, and he
made me change it. He said it was too feminine.” “That’s
what Jack said,” Jim admitted. Marge
studied him with concern. “But you still think Jonesy’s sending the letters.”
It was more of a statement than a question. “I
don’t know what to think,” he answered grimly. “Jack’s checking out
that angle, though. He’s exploring every lead.” “I’m
glad to hear that. Of course, I’ll feel a lot more at ease when he has a suspect.” “He
already does.” Jim slowly released a pent-up breath before dropping the
bombshell. “Jack thinks it could be Amanda.” Marge
had to struggle to keep from snorting. “Amanda Woodward? He can’t be
serious.” “Dead
serious.” Marge
quietly mulled that revelation for a few seconds, and then nodded her head
thoughtfully. “You know, in some ways, it does make sense. It’s no
secret that Amanda was extremely upset when you broke up with her, and she’s
not used to rejection. She’s a spoiled little rich girl who has never been
denied anything.” “Surely
you aren’t buying into that crazy theory of his!” Jim exclaimed in disbelief. “It
would explain a lot,” she remarked. “And on the bright side, it’d
actually be a relief if Amanda is the person who’s been sending these
letters.” “What
do you mean?” Jim’s ginger brows once again knotted in the center of his
forehead. “Amanda
Woodward couldn’t hurt a fly,” was Marge’s simple response. “She might be
vindictive enough to torture you by sending these nasty letters. She might
even be crazy enough to think she can somehow win you back by playing these
mind games.” Marge took a thoughtful pause. “But deep down, I don’t think
Amanda would harm you. She’d be too worried about breaking a nail or messing
up her hair.” “Yeah,
I suppose you’re right,” Jim said with a chortle. “The most dangerous thing
about Amanda was that lethal goose laugh of hers.” Marge
chuckled along with him. “Exactly. She may just think that if she distracts
you with these letters, it’ll delay the announcement to the press that you’ve
broken your engagement to her.” “Well,
if she does think that, then she’d better think again,” Jim retorted
enthusiastically. “Like I said before, I’ll keep the promise until February,
but not a minute longer. As much as I hate the press, I can’t wait until I
can call up every single one of those gossip rags and give them the lowdown.
I’m so anxious to announce my engagement to Trixie that I’ll even agree to be
interviewed by the devil himself.” Marge
smiled fondly at him, thinking Trixie was responsible for many changes in
Jim’s life. “Who else is on the suspect list?” “Oh,
only every single person Trixie’s ever helped send to jail,” Jim replied in
an offhand manner. “Is
that all?” Marge responded cynically. “Well, lucky for us, that narrows it
down to only half the occupants of the New York State penal system.” “Don’t
forget all the criminals she caught while we were on vacation,” Jim pointed
out. “That nearly doubles our suspect list, and extends it to several states.” Marge
smiled as she shook her head in resignation. “Ah, all of a sudden your
diabolical plan makes perfect sense. How convenient for you that your biggest
rival for Trixie’s attention will most likely work himself to death
investigating all these potential angles. You’ll be rid of Jack Palmer in no
time, Jim.” “Hey,
I’ve already won that contest fair
and square, and Trixie’s got the ring to prove it,” Jim crowed. “And whether
you believe it or not, I hired Jack because I know I can trust him. It’s not my
fault that Trixie made his job a lot harder by her countless escapades
through the years.” “Speaking
of Trixie, what does she think about your hiring Jack?” Marge inquired
with a frown. Jim
narrowed his eyes in a speculative manner. “What you’re really asking
is if she’s mad at me because I hired him instead of the Belden-Wheeler
Agency? Am I right?” A
ghost of a smile flickered across Marge’s lips. “You’re right.” “Surprisingly,
she’s been very supportive,” he told her, matching her smile. “I actually
hired Jack before I consulted with Trixie. To be honest, I was going to keep
her in the dark about these letters, but Jack convinced me that wouldn’t be a
good idea.” “He
sounds like a wise man,” Marge remarked. “Yeah,
I definitely got my money’s worth with that piece of advice,” Jim commented.
“When I told Trixie about the letters and that I’d hired Jack to find out who
was sending them, I expected her head to start spinning and ectoplasm to
start shooting out her mouth, but she shocked me. Much to my surprise, she
agreed that it was the best plan. She knew she was too close to the situation
to impartially investigate and was relieved that I’d asked Jack to take care
of it. She’d trust him with her life.” “Well,
well, well. Beatrix Belden actually agreed to stand by while somebody else
solves a mystery,” Marge remarked as she drew back in surprise. “Miracles
never cease. We’d better mark this one down in our daybooks, because nobody
will ever believe us if we don’t have some sort of documentation.” Jim
chuckled. “Well, don’t record this account for posterity just yet. Trixie
won’t be left out of the case completely. Since Jack lives in Los Angeles,
she and Honey are doing all his legwork. There hasn’t been much of that yet,
but it’s been enough to make Trixie feel like she’s contributing. Thus far,
most of the investigating has been done on the computer. Jack has another
friend that’s with the FBI in LA, and they’ve been using the National Crime
Information Center to track down every single person who’s ever tangled with
Trixie or me and ended up in jail.” “Sounds
like Jack’s got a lot of friends,” Marge commented. Jim
grinned at her. “Apparently, he’s a very charming guy. Not nearly as charming
as I am, of course.” “Of
course!” Marge agreed a little too enthusiastically. Jim
laughed good-naturedly. “Well, it’s a good thing Jack has all these
connections. If any of our enemies have been released from prison, he’ll find
out where they are now, what they’ve been up to since their release, and if
they’re still on probation. If they’re still incarcerated, Jack’s going to
find out when they’re scheduled to be released and who they’re hanging around
with while incarcerated.” “That
could take a while,” Marge murmured. “Yeah,
it’s going to be a long process.” Jim wearily massaged his temples with his
thumb and middle finger. “What’s most discouraging is that we don’t know for
sure that either Trixie or I have ever come into contact with the writer of
those letters, or that he was ever in prison. He might not even be in the
system, and this all could be just a huge waste of time.” He groaned as he
shook his head in frustration. “I only wish I could do more.” Marge
nodded sympathetically. “Jim, I understand that you prefer to make the plays
on the field rather than call them from the sidelines, but you’re going to
have to trust Jack. Even though I’ve never met him, I trust Trixie’s
judgment; he must know what he’s doing for her to recommend him so highly.” “I
know,” Jim agreed. He leaned back in his chair with another groan. “All this
rigmarole has helped me to understand why it frustrated Trixie to sit back
and do nothing whenever she was working on a case. If I wasn’t able to take
care of hiring security myself, I think I’d go crazy.” Marge’s
eyes darted down to her lap. She nervously twisted her hands, wondering if
she should say anything, and if she did say something, how she should say it.
After taking a deep breath, she lifted her gaze and allowed it to settle on
Jim. “Speaking
of security,” she began, “where exactly did you find Al? I assume he came
highly recommended…” “I
met Al when Brian and I were working undercover on a case in Los Angeles for
Trixie,” Jim informed her, greatly anticipating her reaction. “He was the
bartender at a club our target frequented.” “You
met him at a singles’ club?” Her eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Actually,
it was a drag queen hangout.” Jim’s lips parted in a broad grin and there was
an impish twinkle in his emerald-colored eyes. “It was the only place a man
with a record could find employment.” “He
has a record?” Marge gasped. “Good Lord, what were you thinking, Jim?” “That
he was a man who’d made a few mistakes but still deserved a second chance,”
Jim answered quietly. “In spite of Al’s past, my gut told me that I could
trust him. I know that he has a gruff voice and is rough around the edges,
but underneath he’s got a good heart. And as you can probably tell, he’d do
anything for me.” “Yes,
he’s very loyal; I’ll give you that,” Marge acknowledged. “Unfortunately, if
both of you wish to remain alive, there’s more to being a good bodyguard than
being loyal. Does Al have any experience providing security?” Jim’s
face suddenly took on a mischievous quality as he attempted to stifle a grin
twitching at the corners of his mouth. “Are you asking about all the
experience he’s had, or do you only want me to tell you about the legal kind?” “James
Winthrop Frayne…” Although Marge had left her sentence hanging, it was clear
that a threat had been implied. “After
he joined the motorcycle gang—” “He
was a member of a motorcycle gang?” Marge interjected hastily. The
devilish almost-grin returned to Jim’s face. “Oh, did I forget to mention
that little detail? Several years ago, Al was an officer with one of the most
notorious motorcycle gangs in the world.” Marge
gulped loudly. “He rode with the Hell’s Angels?” “No,
of course not,” Jim corrected. However, before Marge had time to release a
sigh of relief, he continued, “Al got kicked out of the Hell’s Angels, so he
hooked up with the Outlaws.” Marge’s
complexion grew ashen. “Exactly how bad would one’s behavior need to be to
get kicked out of the Hell’s Angels?” “Well,
Al neglected to give that minute detail, so I’m not really sure,” Jim
admitted. “But I do know that while he was with the Outlaws, he worked
as a bouncer to earn a few bucks.” “Oh,”
was all Marge could manage. After a short pause, she added, “Although that’s
not a particularly prestigious position, I suppose it’s an honest day’s
work…” “Mmm…
For the most part.” Jim’s attempt at stifling his grin failed miserably.
“Occasionally, Al’s services were required by a certain— how shall we say? — organization.
He assisted with such issues as billing, procuring vital information from
clients, ceasing the output of potentially damaging intelligence—” Marge’s
chin almost hit the floor. “He was a muscle man for the mafia?” she choked.
“Do you mean to tell me that he threatened people in order to extort money
from them? “Well,
the term they like to use is ‘shake down’,” he informed her. “This unnamed
organization also hired him on occasion to protect some of their members who
were in danger of— as Al termed it— being whacked.” Although
the words “Oh, Jim,” were actually what came out of Marge’s mouth, they could
be translated as, “Dear Lord, Jim, how
could you have been so foolish to hire a dangerous motorcycle gang member
with ties to the mafia as your personal bodyguard?” Jim
easily discerned what she meant. “Al wasn’t actually in the mob. He
was what they called an ‘associate’, which meant he was only affiliated
with the mafia; he had never officially been ‘made’, or actually sworn in as
a member of the Family.” Marge
still didn’t appear to be convinced. “In
case you’re worried, he doesn’t have any connection with them now,” Jim
continued. “Apparently, Al had some sort of falling out with a fellow by the
name of No Neck Vinnie. Once again, I’m fuzzy on the details, but I do
know that a Suburban and a trip to the bay were involved…” “If
you name an Italian boy ‘Vinnie’, he’s destined to join the mafia,” Marge
muttered under her breath. With a shake of her head, she returned to the
subject at hand. “What does your family think of Al?” “Trixie
loves him,” Jim said, grinning broadly. Marge
rolled her eyes. “Of course she does,” she clipped. “He’s finally provided
the muscle she needs to whip you completely.” “I
wouldn’t say I’m ‘whipped’,” Jim disagreed in a wounded tone. “Enchanted,
perhaps, but not ‘whipped’. Mart’s the one who’s whipped, not me.” Marge
merely looked down her nose at him, her gaze more effective than a gallon of
truth serum. “And
hey, what’s wrong with being whipped, anyway?” Jim continued, his voice
growing more plaintive by the second. “Through the centuries several strong,
virile warriors have been rendered powerless to a beautiful woman’s charm.
Marc Anthony, Napoleon, Samson…” “Delilah
caused Samson to be captured by the Philistines, who poked out his eyes and
forced him to be their slave,” Marge commented dryly. “Okay,
so that was a bad example,” Jim conceded. “But wasn’t there a rumor that
Attila the Hun was madly in love with some girl, who caused him to wreak
havoc on the Roman Empire?” Marge
snorted. “All
right, all right.” Jim threw his hands up in surrender. “Call the He-Man
Woman Haters Club in here now to brand me a sissy because Trixie whipped me
the minute she laid those big, blue eyes on me. I’m guilty as charged.” “There’s
no crime in being whipped, Jim.” Marge laughed good-naturedly, but couldn’t
resist adding, “It’s just refreshing to hear you admit it.” “Just
please don’t tell the rest of the guys,” Jim muttered. “Especially Dan.” “I’m
pretty sure they’re already aware of your whipped condition. In fact, it’s a
safe bet that they’ve known about it for many, many years now.” It was
Marge’s turn to contain a smile. “So, going back to our original topic, what
does the rest of your family think of Al?” Jim
was more than happy to answer the question Marge had asked a few moments ago.
“Naturally, Dad was concerned at first, but after he talked with Al, he
agrees with my choice. It took Mother a bit longer to begin warming up to
him.” He grinned as he recalled the evening he had showed up unannounced to
dinner at Manor House with Al in tow. “Can
you blame her?” Marge asked. “I
guess not,” Jim admitted. “She’s still not completely comfortable around him,
but as I’ve said, he’s making progress with her.” He “forgot” to mention his
mother’s reaction when Al had showed up at Manor House earlier that morning. “What
about Honey?” “She
was positively terrified of him when they first met, but it didn’t take long
until he’d charmed her as well. She now thinks he’s a big teddy bear, and
much to Al’s chagrin, insists on hugging him each time she sees him. She’s
even patted his belly once or twice.” Marge
raised her eyebrows in surprise. “Honey always has been quick to make
newcomers feel welcome.” “She’s
also a good judge of character,” he pointed out. Jim paused for a moment, and
then inquired, “I guess the only remaining question is this: How do you
feel about Al?” “Well,
I barely know him…” she sputtered. “Okay,
what do you think of what you do know about him?” Marge
pursed her lips thoughtfully. “Frankly, I still have a few reservations. I’d
like to think my doubts are caused by his lack of experience, but I have to
admit that his checkered past— not to mention his rough appearance— concerns
me. However, you’ve always had excellent judgment, Jim, so I have no reason
to doubt your decision.” “So
in other words, the jury’s still out, huh?” “Yes,
I suppose it is,” she admitted. “After all, Al isn’t guarding a building or
expensive possessions. He’s protecting something absolutely irreplaceable.”
With a motherly smile, Marge reached over and patted Jim’s hand. “We’ve all
grown rather fond of you through the years, in spite of your whipped
condition.” “Ha-ha-ha,”
he chuckled wryly. “Remember what I said about you being my left hand? Well,
I just took it all b—” Further
discussion was halted as Jim’s walkie-talkie crackled to life. “Mr.
Jim?” If possible, Al’s voice was even more gravelly over the radio than it
was in person. Jim
quickly picked up his own walkie-talkie and pushed down on the button to
speak. “I’m here, Al. Did you find the intruder?” “Nah,
whoever was snoopin’ around done faded the scene.” Jim
closed his eyes and exhaled noisily. “Thank God for that. I’ll deactivate the
security system and go upstairs so I can reassure the kids.” “I
wouldn’t do that yet, boss.” Al’s voice had taken on a reluctant quality. Instinctively
knowing something was wrong, Jim’s jaws automatically clenched. “What’s
wrong?” “I
found somethin’ in the band room that you needta see. Well, at least I’m assumin’
it’s the band room. There’s a piano and a buncha other instruments in here…” “Yeah,
that’s the music room.” Although he thought he already knew the answer to the
question he was about to ask, Jim plunged ahead. “What’d you find, Al?” “Apparently,
your little pen pal wanted to save a stamp and decided to drop off somethin’
for you in person.” Jim’s
heart sank as his fear became reality. “You found another letter.” “Yeah.” “You
didn’t touch it, did you?” “Nope,
I didn’t wanna destroy any evidence that the perp mighta left behind,” Al
answered. “Good
thinking,” Jim murmured. “If you’ve finished scoping out the first floor, you
can head back to my office.” “You
got it, Mr. Jim.” The
radio went silent, and Jim immediately picked up the phone. He waited
patiently, praying someone would answer. Just as he began to fear that his
only contact would be with a voice mail or an answering machine, a groggy
voice came onto the line. “Yeah?”
Jack Palmer mumbled, obviously only half-awake. “Sorry
to call so early, Jack,” Jim apologized. “I forgot about the time
difference.” Across
the United States in Los Angeles, California, the handsome young detective
opened one bleary eye and peeked at his alarm clock. “That’s okay,
Professor,” he mumbled sleepily. “Studies have shown that getting a full
eight hours a night is highly overrated. What’s up?” “I
got another letter this morning,” Jim answered. Though his voice was calm,
his pulse was racing madly. “Uhh…
It’s not even “You
don’t understand,” Jim growled. “The letter was left in my school.” Jack
instantly bolted awake, all thoughts of sleep now a distant memory. He sat
upright in his bed and tried to ignore the fact that the abrupt change in
equilibrium had caused the room to start spinning around him. “What’re you
saying?” “Whoever’s
been writing these letters decided to play mailman,” Jim informed him through
clenched teeth. “He came by to deliver it himself.” “The
perp was inside Ten Acres?” Jack rubbed his eyes, hoping it would take
away his confusion. “What
part of ‘He came by to deliver it himself’ don’t you understand?” Jim
groused. “Hey,
I’m the one who was jarred out of Dreamland,” Jack joked. “If anyone’s
going to play the part of Grumpy Smurf, it’s going to be me.” “This
is serious, Jack,” Jim spat contemptuously into the mouthpiece of his phone.
“Right now I really don’t need you to act like a smart-aleck. “Calm
down, Professor,” Jack said in an effort to placate his friend. “I know
better than you how serious this is. I’m not scheduled to be bright-eyed and
bushy-tailed for another hour, so please forgive me for not being a better
conversationalist.” Jim
groaned softly, grabbing a fistful of red hair in frustration. “Sorry, Jack.
Finding out that this stalker’s been inside Ten Acres has pushed me to my
boiling point. That’s no reason to take it out on you, though.” “I’m
sorry, too,” Jack replied. “So, let’s get down to business. What did this
letter say, Jim?” “I
haven’t actually read it yet,” Jim admitted. “Al found it when he was doing a
perimeter check of the school. He left it right where he found it.” “Whoa!
Why was Al searching the school?” Jim
cursed under his breath for mentioning the break-in. However, after a moment
of contemplation, he decided it was best to be completely honest. “This
morning right after I got to school, I thought I heard someone walking around
Ten Acres,” he explained. “I called out, but nobody answered. Then, I heard
the exterior door in the gymnasium open, but when I got there, whoever it was
had already left.” Back
in California, a single auburn eyebrow arched in skepticism. “Exactly why
were you running after this psycho instead of Al?” “Umm…
Because Al wasn’t there?” Jim reluctantly supplied. “This
may be a dumb question, but why wasn’t your bodyguard guarding your body?”
Jack asked wearily. “Please tell me he was in the bathroom or had been
knocked out or something. Anything besides the obvious…” Even
though Jack was nowhere around, Jim winced guiltily. “I went into work early
and sort of forgot to let Al know. I was at Ten Acres by myself.” “Good
grief, Frayne!” Jack exploded. “Are you trying to get yourself
killed?” “Whoever
it was left as soon as I yelled!” Jim pointed out defensively. “So
you decided to run after them?” Jack snorted loudly. “I thought you had a
Master’s degree, man! How could you be so stupid? How many tons of lead paint
chips did you eat as a kid?” “I
thought I was hearing things,” Jim mumbled. “I had to make sure that someone
was really there.” “So
you run after them— unarmed, I’m
assuming.” Although Jim couldn’t see him, Jack shook his head in utter
disbelief. “What in God’s name would you have done if you’d actually caught
this perp?” “Actually,
I hadn’t planned that far,” Jim admitted guiltily. “Jim,
this is why I told you to hire a bodyguard,” Jack spat. “You’re lucky
you didn’t get your head blown off!” “We
aren’t even positive that my stalker has any intentions of murdering me,” Jim
argued. “Well,
my experience in law enforcement has shown me that obsessed nuts who write
threatening letters usually don’t have the best of intentions at heart,” Jack
retorted sarcastically. “If that psycho ever catches up to you, I seriously
doubt she’s going to be satisfied with just leaving you with a parting wave.” “Are
you trying to annoy me, or does it
just come naturally to you?” Jim snapped. Jack
yawned. “My apologies. Your kindly, neighborhood voice of reason has now left
the building. You’re free to invite this stalker over for tea and crumpets,
but just be sure to wear your best bulletproof vest.” “You
know, that anthrax idea wasn’t half bad,” Jim muttered under his breath. “What
was that?” Jack inquired. “Surely you aren’t planning on lacing my paycheck
with dangerous chemicals?” Jim’s
lips parted in a rueful smile. “Nah, I’d never get away with it.” “Hey,
I’m just trying to help keep you alive,” Jack pointed out. “I
know,” Jim agreed, somewhat wearily. “I don’t want to borrow trouble since I
have more than enough already. We don’t even know for sure that the intruder
and the stalker are the same person.” “Oh,
so you have more than one person after you?” “Even
if it was the stalker,” Jim ground out through gritted teeth, “he left
without hurting me.” Jack
gave another loud snort. “Forget the stalker; Trixie’s going to kill
you long before this crazy chick can get the chance.” “Thanks
for the lecture, but I’ve already been properly scolded by Al,” Jim said with
a roll of his eyes. “I’ve given him my solemn word that I’ll never go out
without him again until this mess is cleared up.” “And
what does Trixie think about your visitor?” Jim,
not especially eager to answer the question, released a very long, drawn-out
breath. “She doesn’t know about it yet.” “Professor,
before you do tell her, be sure to first send a check as payment for
my services to Jack Palmer, This
comment successfully elicited a rueful grin from Jim. “I’ll make a note to
contact my financial advisor and ask him to include you in my will just in
case I die before you get paid,” he commented wryly. “Just
keep Al in the loop so neither Trixie nor this other crazy chick gets the
chance,” Jack warned. After
a thoughtful pause, Jim asked, “You keep referring to the stalker in feminine
terms. Do you still think we’re dealing with a woman?” “I
do,” Jack replied simply. Sensing Jim’s skepticism, he decided to drop the
subject temporarily. “Listen, I’m going to take a quick shower, chug a gallon
or two of strong coffee, and then head to the office. I’ll call you back when
I get there, and you can give me a thorough recap when I’m not half-asleep.” “All
right.” “While
you’re waiting for my call, give Detective a buzz and ask her to come to the
school,” Jack continued. “I need her to collect any forensic evidence that
the stalker may’ve left behind.” “Is
Trixie qualified to do that?” Jim asked, a touch of awe in his voice. His
fiancée’s talents never ceased to amaze him. “She’s
more than qualified,” Jack answered. “We had to gather prints and biological
evidence for a case we worked on together, and she did a fine job. If the detective
gig ever dries up, she could have a stellar career as a crime scene
investigator.” “Do
you know if she has the right equipment to do that?” “She
should. If she doesn’t, tell her to contact that cop buddy of yours,” Jack suggested.
“I’m sure he’ll find a way to hook her up.” Jim’s
silence spoke volumes, and Jack listened to every word, mulling his response
carefully. “Jim,
I know you don’t want to involve the police, but you might have to make an
exception,” Jack prodded gently. “If you were having a medical problem, you’d
talk to Brian, wouldn’t you? So since someone has broken the law, shouldn’t
you talk to a policeman you trust?” “I
have my reasons,” Jim replied stubbornly. “I don’t expect you to understand,
but for now, I need to keep this under wraps. It’s just the way it has to
be.” Jack
paused briefly, and then asked, “How much do you trust this Dan fellow?” “With
my life,” Jim responded without batting an eye. “Then
don’t you think you can trust him with a few letters?” Jim
didn’t say a word, but this time, neither did Jack. The detective waited
patiently as his words penetrated the headmaster’s thick skull. His tactics
worked. “I’ll
give him a call if Trixie needs anything,” Jim finally consented, albeit with
some hesitance. “But if I do, I’m ordering him not to say a peep about
this to the rest of the cops at the station. I don’t want them involved.” “That’s
completely up to you.” At this point, Jack reminded himself that beggars
could not be choosers. “If Trixie successfully lifts any prints, have her
scan them and send them to me ASAP so I can get them to my forensics guy.” “All
right,” Jim agreed. “And
Jim?” “Yeah?” “We’re
gonna get whoever’s doing this,” Jack vowed, his voice taking on an urgent
quality. “It may take a while, but it’ll happen. Just watch your back in the
meantime.” “Thanks,
buddy.” Shoulders sagging, Jim hung up his phone and broke the connection. He
sat there for a few moments, staring mutely at the many framed credentials
that lined his wall. Funny, with all the schooling I’ve had, nobody ever
taught me how to deal with this, he thought despondently. Marge’s
blue eyes carefully studied Jim’s defeated form. Her heart broke as she
watched the man she loved like a son drown in an ocean of worry. “Jim, are
you okay?” “Yeah,”
he murmured quietly. With a curt nod of his head, his voice took on a
slightly more confident quality. “I’m fine.” Setting
his jaw in determination, Jim squared his shoulders with a new resolve,
picked up the phone, and dialed Trixie’s cell phone number. His countenance
brightened somewhat when he heard her cheerful greeting. “Hey,
handsome. How’d you know that I was just dying to hear that sexy voice of
yours?” Jim
smiled as he imagined his fiancée’s dimpled grin. His expression quickly
sobered as he remembered the purpose for his call. “Well, baby, I’m sorry to
say this isn’t a social call. Unfortunately, I’m calling on business, rather
than pleasure.” “What
happened, Jim?” “There’s
been an incident at Ten Acres.” Jim’s jaw twitched slightly as he tried to
contain his anxiety. “Can you and Honey come to the school and gather
forensic evidence for Jack?” Trixie
automatically assumed a more professional tone. “Of course we can.” “Do
you have all the stuff you need?” “I’ll
have to check, but I’m almost positive we do,” she answered. “If I do need
anything, I’ll stop by the station. I think I know where Spider keeps the
kits the crime scene investigators use on the off chance a serious crime is
actually committed around here.” “Trixie,”
Jim scolded lightly. “Surely you wouldn’t steal from the Sleepyside Police
Department.” “Of
course I wouldn’t steal anything, Jim,” she insisted with an indignant
huff. “What do you think I am? A thief?” Just
as Jim had opened his mouth to apologize, Trixie quickly added, “If I’m
missing anything, I’ll just borrow what I need for a few hours and
then put it back when I’m finished.” Although
he was tempted to launch into a lecture, Jim chuckled instead. “Well, if you do
‘borrow’ anything, be sure and let me know so I can send an anonymous
donation to the station to reimburse them.” “I
wouldn’t expect anything less from my honorable-all-over-the-place man,”
Trixie teased. “I love you, Jim.” “Love
you, too, Shamus.” “Honey
and I will be there as soon as we can.” Obviously
Trixie meant business, because the next thing Jim heard was a click on the
other end as she broke the connection. He continued to hold the receiver in
his hand until he was startled by the buzzing sound on the other end,
reminding him that he had the phone off the hook. Even after he had replaced
the receiver, he might have held his vigil of silence for several more
minutes if Marge hadn’t spoken. “Are
Trixie and Honey coming?” she inquired. Jim
nodded. “Trixie said that they’d be right over.” His eyes settled upon the
photograph of the Bob-Whites which always sat on his desk. It had been taken
during one of their adventures, and reminded him of their carefree days. As
always, his gaze drifted to his special girl. He smiled fondly as he studied
her picture, hoping to draw strength from her image. “Everything
will be okay now, Marge; Schoolgirl Shamuses, Inc. is on the case.” He
only wished that he felt as confident as he sounded.
Thank you
to my fabulous editors, Trish B, Kaye, and Steph H! Each of you contributes
so much to my stories. I couldn’t do it without you! {{{HUGS}}} One of
my editors made a profound comment regarding the issue of Jim not telling Dan
about the stalker. I felt it was so poignant that I decided to quote her bit
of wisdom here. I hope she doesn’t mind. Why is it that all Bob-Whites seem to
believe that they can’t ask of each other the level of sacrifice they’d
willingly give each other? Across all
writers and unis, this appears to be the group’s collective fatal flaw. ~ Kaye So, you
may be asking, “What happened to Marge Trask when she was younger?” Well, I’m
asking myself that same question. I know a few details, but nothing too
substantial yet. Hopefully, she’ll open up more soon. Al’s
glossary: Faded
the scene- left
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