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Part Four
In Part
Three, Jim called Trixie and Honey and asked them to come to Ten Acres
Academy to check for any clues the stalker may have left behind. Jim stared unseeingly out the window
of his office. A thick blanket of snow covered Ten Acres, creating a
deceptively tranquil backdrop for the disruptive events of the day.
Sleepyside had received another two inches of accumulation the night before,
and the split rail fence that separated the school’s property from the forest
was now covered by five inches of frozen precipitation. A weary sigh escaped Jim’s lips. The
beautiful landscape surrounding him usually provided solace even during his
most stressful times. However, on this day no comfort could be found. A sense
of foreboding hung heavily in the air. Ten Acres felt cold and bleak, and the
memory of that morning’s uninvited visitor left a lingering chill that no
thermostat could tame. Although he knew the intruder was
probably miles away by now, Jim held his breath, expecting a maniacal masked
villain to dart past his window as the enemy continued his dastardly mission
of destruction. But, as Jim surveyed the forest, he saw no signs of danger.
The woods were quiet; too quiet, as the old cliché went. Usually when Jim looked outside,
he’d see a squirrel scamper up the oak tree that was right by his window,
watching as the bushy-tailed creature carried a nut back to its nest. A flash
of red would occasionally flit from the sky and land on the fence, as a
cardinal stopped his flight long enough to chirp a message of love to his
mate. Beyond the fence, pine trees stood proud and tall as their deciduous
relatives beheld the spruces’ and pines’ green needles with envy. If one was
especially patient, a hungry deer might saunter from the woods over to the
fence, in search of any hint of grass poking through the snow. Today, almost as if their animal
instincts were warning them of impending danger, all the woodland creatures
remained hidden in the forest. The snowy grounds were void of any sort of
life whatsoever. Jim gave a swift shake of his head
in an attempt to rid his mind of the unpleasant thoughts which tortured him.
Unfortunately, no matter how hard he tried to concentrate on his work, he was
utterly consumed by the realization that Ten Acres had been the scene of a
crime. At this very moment, Trixie and Honey were searching for any evidence
that might tell them who had committed that crime. That notion destroyed any
semblance of tranquility for Jim. Ten Acres was no longer a safe haven from
the evils of the world; his beloved school had been tainted. Heavily burdened, Jim released a
labored breath as he raked a freckled hand through his hair. Leaning his head
back in his chair, he murmured a silent prayer for assistance. “All silk, boss?” Under a shaggy
umbrella of gray brows, Al’s eyes studied his employer with concern. Once Al had returned from searching
the first floor, Marge had gone upstairs to reassure the staff and students.
Even after Jim’s loyal bodyguard was sure that Ten Acres was free from
intruders, he immediately resumed his post. He claimed a chair by the door,
his tenacious expression reminding Jim of a bulldog. The large, burly man sat
stiffly, poised and ready to attack any evildoer who might burst inside and
threaten harm to his employer. Jim did his best to muster a
confident smile. “I’m okay.” “You sure?” Al inquired in a
critical manner. “ ‘Cuz right now, you look like some sap I knew who was real
dizzy for this dame that jus’ lammed off with all his cabbage an’ left him
flat.” “I don’t have the slightest idea
what you said,” Jim admitted. “But if that sap you mentioned felt like his
whole world had been turned upside-down, then yeah, I guess I do feel like him.” Al nodded. “That’s understandable,
Mr. Jim. Look, I know you’re worried, but those two tomatoes in there are
more than jus’ pretty faces. They’re gonna pinch the guy doin’ this. Solvin’
cases like this is eggs in the coffee for that little moll dick o’ yours.” “Even if they do catch the perp, it won’t change the fact that somebody broke
into Ten Acres.” “True,” Al acknowledged, “but that
don’t mean the school’s gotta pull the Dutch act.” Noticing Jim’s blank look,
he reiterated. “The school’ll live through this, boss. It ain’t ruined
forever.” “In a way, it is.” Jim’s lips
pressed tightly together in a thin line as he paused to gather his thoughts.
He exhaled noisily before continuing. “I never felt safe as a teenager, even
after settling here in Sleepyside. Subconsciously, I always looked over my
shoulder, expecting my stepfather to grab me by the arm and drag me back to
his farm so he could beat me with that belt of his. Even after Jonesy had
been sent to prison, it took a long time for me to feel safe.” Al’s bushy brows knitted together at
the bridge of his nose as he studied Jim thoughtfully. “I ain’t tryin’ to put
the screws on you, boss, but you might as well quit stringin’ me along an’
sing. Even with that boozehound in the jug, you still think he’s gonna burn powder in your noodle.” Although Jim didn’t answer with his
words, his sober expression spoke multitudes. Al smiled sympathetically. “That’s
flat, bo. I know I’ll sleep better myself when a few of my former
‘associates’ wind up in a Chicago overcoat.” “I’m not worried about me; I’m worried about my students,”
Jim explained hesitantly. “I wanted Ten Acres to be a sanctuary for kids like
me. I know what it feels like to be scared and alone, and I never wanted the
boys here to ever feel that way again. I wanted to protect them.” “Mr. Jim, everybody’s gonna get
scared once in while, but I can guarantee you that none of these boys is ever
gonna be alone,” Al commented. “Why, if I woulda had some place like this to
flop, my whole life mighta been different. I make sure to tell that to all
the kids I meet up with. They need to know how lucky they are to have this
school so they don’t get their elbows checked after they dust outta here.” Jim chuckled wryly. In spite of the
grim circumstances, he couldn’t help but wonder what all his hoity-toity
trustees would think if they knew this ex-con was a walking-talking
advertisement for the academy. He had a feeling they wouldn’t be pleased at
his endorsement. Since several of those same trustees would rather toss money
at the school than volunteer themselves, Jim could care less. “What’s so funny?” “Nothing,” Jim answered with a
slight shake of his head. “Nothing at all.” He glanced at the clock on the
wall for the hundredth time that day. “It’s almost “If things is hittin’ on all eight,
they’ll put us wise soon enough.” “They’ve had plenty of time to
finish searching the first floor.” Jim scowled as he checked the time yet
again. “They could’ve gathered evidence for five or six crime scenes by
now.” Al fought back a smile. “These
things take time, boss. Ain’t you ever seen them hammer and saws work on
‘CSI’?” “Maybe I should call Trixie’s cell
and check on them.” “You’ve already called ‘em so many
times this mornin’ that you’re on a first name basis with the operator at the
phone company,” Al commented wryly. “Let them peepers do what they do best.
They’ll come talk to you as soon as they’re done; buggin’ ‘em ain’t gonna get
you the rap any quicker.” Jim flashed him a rueful grin.
“True, but at least it makes me feel like I’m accomplishing something instead
of just sitting here worrying,” he admitted. “Maybe I could just—” “If you ain’t
careful, you’re gonna gum it up, boss,” Al warned. “How ‘bout we go upstairs an’ see if lunch is ready?”
“I think I’ll just wait here for Tr—” Before he could finish the
statement, there was a knock at the door. Al quickly jumped up to answer it. “That’s probably Trixie and Honey
now,” Jim interjected. However, Al was too cautious to
assume anything. He opened the door just a crack and peeked out to see who
was on the other side before opening it all the way. With a grunt of
approval, he pushed it open wider to give Trixie and Honey access into the
room. Before the detectives could even sit down, Jim had already started
pumping them for information. “How’d it go? What’d you find out?” Usually, Trixie was able to maintain
a professional demeanor while working on a case. She and Honey knew that in
order to remain objective, they couldn’t involve themselves emotionally in
their clients’ lives. Of course, distancing herself from this case would be
difficult for Trixie, especially since she loved this particular client more
than life itself. Her heart broke as she witnessed Jim’s desperation, and she
couldn’t resist bending down to tenderly kiss his cheek. Jim grabbed her hand and held onto
it like she was keeping him from falling off a ten-story building. “Did you
find anything?” he blurted out, his green eyes blazing with urgency. “Yes, we did,” Trixie replied, not
willing to keep him in suspense. “So tell me what you found!” Trixie looked over at Honey, her
eyes pleading for assistance. Honey knew her best friend well enough to know
what was happening; Trixie couldn’t deny Jim anything. Although she wanted to
put him out of his misery as quickly as possible, Trixie knew it was best to
give him the results in an orderly manner instead of hastily blurting them
out just to appease Jim. Unfortunately, knowing what was best and actually
doing it were two completely different things. It was time for tact to take over. “Jim,” Honey began in her gentlest
voice, “I know you’re eager to hear the results of our search, but we need to
give you our report slowly so we don’t leave anything out. Is that all right
with you?” “Does that mean you found something
helpful?” Jim inquired excitedly. “What was it? A fingerprint? Some DNA?” Honey laughed softly. “If you’ll be
quiet, we’ll tell you.” “Sorry,” Jim said with a sheepish
grin. “I guess I’m kind of anxious to hear how it went.” Al snorted. “That’s puttin’ it
mildly, boss.” He looked over at Trixie and Honey. “I hope you dames can give
him the rumble real quick like, ‘cuz he’s worse than a snow-bird needin’ a
fix.” Trixie smiled sympathetically. “I
think we can help you out. Since we knew for certain that the trespasser had
been in the music room, we started there. Honey and I thoroughly dusted every
square inch of that room for prints… door knobs, light switches, the music
stand the letter was found on… everything.” “Unfortunately, we didn’t find a
single fingerprint,” Honey announced. “The room was completely clean.” “Well, unless you count that one dust
bunny we found underneath the podium where the band director stands,” Trixie
added with a nervous giggle. “The little guy must’ve gotten lost on his way
to the trash. Everything else was clean as a whistle, so he was extremely out
of place.” “Apparently, the custodians at Ten
Acres don’t use the Trixie Belden ‘lick and a promise’ method for cleaning,”
Honey quipped. “You mean you didn’t find any prints at all?”
Al stroked his whiskers, his eyebrows almost overlapping as his forehead
wrinkled in disbelief. “If you ask me, that’s kinda weird. That room’s busier
than a flophouse, what with teachers an’ students constantly goin’ in an’
out. I woulda thought yous guys woulda found hundreds o’ prints.” “I’d actually thought the same thing,” Trixie admitted.
“Of course, our perp could’ve wiped everything down before leaving.” “If this was another clean sneak, then we ain’t
dealin’ with no amateur,” Al commented. “Sounds like a pro to me.” Honey thoughtfully worried her lower lip between her
teeth. “You know, that room’s pretty big, and wiping everything down would’ve
taken way too much time. This perp’s too smart to risk getting caught, so in
my opinion, he didn’t stick around long enough to destroy evidence; he just
didn’t leave any to begin with.” “Then why didn’t we find any prints at all?” Trixie questioned. “I bet I know,” Jim said, scratching his chin
thoughtfully. “Right after the students went on Christmas break, the janitors
cleaned the school from top to bottom. Nobody’s been in the band room since
December, so if the trespasser wore gloves, there wouldn’t be any
prints.” “Makes sense,” Trixie stated. “What about the letter and envelope?” Jim asked.
“Were they clean, too?” Trixie gave a soft sigh of disappointment. “Yes, but
we expected as much. Whoever’s doing this is one smart cookie, and since all
the other letters had been clean, we figured this one would be also.” “How about the letter itself?” Jim asked. “Is there
any other way to find out who sent it or where it came from?” Honey shook her head. “This one was just like the
others. We checked for watermarks or other distinguishable characteristics,
but it was written on standard typing paper, like you’d find at Wal-Mart or
any other discount store. Same with the envelope. We’ll send them both to
Jack, and hopefully his guy at the lab can use his equipment to find
something that we couldn’t see with the naked eye.” “What was the return address?” Jim queried. “Maybe
the postmark could—” “There wasn’t a return address,” Trixie interrupted. Jim groaned loudly as he rested his forehead in the
palm of his right hand. “We’re no better off than we were before.” “Not so fast, Jim.” Trixie’s voice hinted enthusiasm.
“Although we didn’t find any evidence in the music room, we did have a
bit of luck at the point of entry.” “Really?” Jim’s voice was cautiously optimistic. Honey nodded. “Our perp came through the gymnasium,
just like you suspected.” “You know that for sure?” Al asked. “Five people have entered Ten Acres since it snowed
last night: You, Ms. Trask, Trixie, Jim, and myself,” Honey explained
excitedly. “Jim, Ms. Trask, Trixie, and I all used the main entrance; you
were the only one who used the door in the gym.” “However, we found two sets of footprints in
the snow outside the gym,” Trixie added, her blue eyes sparkling from the
thrill of the hunt. “Hey, yeah!” Al bobbed his head up and down in an
enthusiastic manner. He turned to his employer. “Mr. Jim, I think I told you
that I seen a fresh setta tracks when I came in this mornin’.” “Well, that explains why there were two sets of
footprints,” Honey commented. “Trixie and I had wondered briefly if there
were two intruders.” “Nah, jus’ me an’ this sharper,” Al told them. “That’s what we decided,” Honey said. “Although there
were two sets of prints going towards the door, there was only one leaving in
the opposite direction.” Trixie glanced down at Al’s feet, which were encased
in a pair of sturdy biker boots. “One set of prints was quite a bit larger
than the other. What’s your shoe size, Al?” Al shrugged. “Thirteen wide.” Trixie and Honey exchanged a satisfied smirk. “That’s
about what we estimated the larger set to be,” Trixie replied. “So, since you two sleuths are such experts in
shoe-size analysis, how big was the other set?” Jim queried. This time, the look Trixie and Honey shared was one
of apprehension. “We’re guessing that they were about a men’s seven or a
woman’s eight,” Honey finally replied after a labored pause. “Sounds like your meat’s got small dogs,” Al
remarked. Honey cocked her head to give Al a sidelong quizzical
glance. “The guy we’re lookin’ for’s got small feet,” he
translated. Trixie nodded slowly. She looked reluctant to give a
response. “True, a seven is small
for a man, but lots of women wear a size-eight shoe.” Jim shook his head determinedly. “Surely you don’t
think a woman broke into Ten
Acres?” “Boss, I’ve seen skirts do all kinda whacked-out
things you wouldn’t believe,” Al remarked. “If some dame went too far off the
track, then she could be strictly section eight.” Honey reached over the desk and patted her brother’s
hand supportively. “At this point, we
have to explore all the possibilities, Jim.” “And although you’re
sure the stalker’s a man, there’s a definite possibility that we’re dealing
with a woman,” Trixie added somewhat hesitantly. “There must be some mistake…” Jim stammered. “There’s no mistake, Jim,” Honey told him gently. “We
measured those footprints three times.” “Not only are we considering the size, we’re also
taking into account the tread, as well as the distance between prints,”
Trixie elaborated. “And all that evidence suggests that the tracks were left
by a female who’s somewhere between five-foot-six and five-foot-nine.” Jim pressed his lips together, unwilling to say
anything in support of their theory. After several seconds of silence, he
finally spoke. “I assume you took pictures?” “Of course,” Honey answered. “We got several good
shots from different angles.” “And you’re going to send copies of the pictures to
Jack, aren’t you?” Jim inquired. Trixie smiled. She knew Jim was hoping that Jack
would disprove their theory, but she kept that thought to herself. “Yes,
we’ll email those to him as soon as possible, along with all the other
evidence we collected. Hopefully, we can find out more about the shoes.” “Good,” Jim said. “By any chance did you follow the
tracks to see where they originated?” Trixie snorted. “Hey, who do you think we are— Nancy Drew groupies? Of course we followed those tracks.” “My apologies,” Jim managed through a chuckle. “Where
did they come from?” “We followed them through the woods back to the main
highway,” Honey answered. “They led to a wide spot off “Could you tell what kinda crate made those tracks?”
Al asked. “Don’t tell me.” The corners of Jim’s lips twitched.
“The tracks were left by a crazy unicyclist who was on the loose from the
circus?” Trixie resisted the urge to stick her tongue out at
him. “I’ll have you know that I’m a lot better at identifying tire tracks
than I used to be. Why, during my senior year of college, I took a class
devoted to this particular aspect of crime scene investigation for this very
reason.” “Sorry, love, but I couldn’t resist,” Jim apologized. “And just so you know, I earned an ‘A’ in that
class,” Trixie added with an indignant sniff. “I’m sure you did,” Jim said soothingly. “And for the record, I was only thirteen when I came
up with that unicycle theory—” “Shamus, I can’t begin to tell you how sorry I am for
teasing you about what is obviously a painful memory,” Jim told her with only
a hint of a grin. “But for the love of all that’s holy, could you please put all that newfound knowledge
of yours to use and tell me what you know about those tracks?” Trixie fought a smile but lost in the end.
“Unfortunately, there wasn’t anything distinctive about the tire treads left
by Jim nodded weakly. The good-natured teasing he’d
dished out only minutes before was a distant memory. He’d been sobered by the
realization that the clues that were found were of no help at all. He
attempted to muster a hopeful smile, but failed miserably. “Well, I guess
that’s something. At least we know we’re looking for someone who likes to
write letters, has small feet, and drives a medium-sized car with snow
tires.” “That isn’t all we know,” Trixie replied.
Unlike Jim, she easily managed a smile as she reached inside her tote bag and
pulled out a small rectangular-shaped piece of white cardboard. “Whether our
intruder is male or female, one thing we know for certain is that he or she isn’t
perfect. Whoever’s doing this made their first big mistake. We finally
got some prints.” “You mean fingerprints?” Jim inquired
hopefully. Trixie nodded as she handed the card to Jim. “We
lifted these off the security keypad by the door. Our perp kindly left behind
a perfect print from his—or her— right index finger.” At this point, Jim was afraid to get his hopes up too
high. “You’re sure these prints were left by the stalker?” “Viable prints wouldn’t last too long in the weather
we’ve had lately, so we know they have to be fresh.” Trixie glanced over at
Al. “The only other person’s they could be are Al’s, but Honey and I both
thought they looked too small to be his.” “Did you touch the keypad?” Honey asked the
bodyguard. Al shook his head. “Nah, by the time I got there, the
alarm had done been turned off. I didn’t need to bother with it.” “Just to exclude you, would you mind letting us
fingerprint you?” Trixie inquired. “Sure, I’ll do anything to help,” Al agreed. “But
jus’ so you know, the law’s already got my ten card on file.” Honey smiled, a blush creeping up her cheeks. “Oh,
then I guess we won’t need to fingerprint you after all. Trixie and I forgot
about your… history.” “Hey, no problem,” Al answered good-naturedly. Jim’s brow furrowed as he inspected the black smudges
on the card. “I know you’re excited about finding these, but something just
doesn’t add up. After how careful the stalker’s been, I’m surprised he made
the mistake of leaving his fingerprints behind.” “Actually, Trixie and I talked about that outside,”
Honey commented. “The buttons on the keypad are quite close to one another.
When someone is punching in the code, it would be easy to accidentally hit
the wrong number, especially if you were wearing gloves.” “That’s right,” Jim murmured as he remembered his own
reluctance to remove his gloves earlier that morning as he unlocked the
school. Suddenly, he looked up in bewilderment, his eyes wide as he came to
an unpleasant conclusion. “So the prints you found… They were left on the
actual buttons, not the keypad itself?” “Yes,” Honey answered. She started to say something
else, but Jim interrupted her. “Had someone tampered with the security system?”
Jim’s voice sounded desperate, and his eyes were glowing with intensity. Trixie shook her head slowly, her lips set in a grim
line. She thought she knew exactly where Jim was going with this. “No, the
code had been punched in.” Jim’s jaw twitched as he tried to contain his
emotions. “The alarm didn’t go off, so
can we assume that the lock hadn’t been picked? No windows were broken?” “We didn’t find any evidence of forced entry,” Honey
admitted in a hushed whisper. “All the windows and doors were secure, and
nobody had tampered with the lock.” “So nobody actually broke into Ten Acres,” Jim
remarked, his tone grave. “Whoever did this not only has a key, but also the
access code to our security system.” Neither Trixie nor Honey wanted to verify this fact,
so both sat wordlessly in their seats, allowing their quietness to speak for
them. Consumed by a volatile mixture of frustration, anger, and indignation,
Jim broke the silence by slamming his fist on the desk. Trixie jumped, and
Honey appeared to be close to tears. Al cleared his throat nervously. Even he seemed
apprehensive about saying anything. “Well, we coulda had a trip for biscuits,
boss. At least this weirdo left behind some prints to help us finger him.” Jim’s fist remained where it had landed on the desk.
He sat in stony silence, not moving a muscle. His hands were clenched so
tightly that the veins were popping out in his arm. Trixie held her breath as
she watched him seethe. She could see a pounding movement in his wrist and
knew that Jim’s pulse had to be surging. Fearing he’d have a stroke, she
slipped deftly from her seat and walked around the desk to him. Sensing her
approach, Jim shifted around slightly to face her as she knelt in front of
his chair. Trixie clasped one of his hands in both of hers.
“Al’s right,” she pointed out in her gentlest voice. “We’re one step closer
to finding out who’s been doing this. These prints are going to help us so
much.” Still not saying a word, Jim forced himself to try
and relax. He looked down at Trixie, his eyes pulsating. Slowly, he wrapped his other hand around
Trixie’s and he clung to her like a small boy would his mother. “These prints
were left by someone I know, someone I trusted,” he choked out. “Very few
people have both the key and the code…” “Does that surprise you, Jim?” Honey inquired
cautiously. “Didn’t you suspect that when you first discovered someone in the
school?” Jim shook his head. “The alarm was set when I
unlocked the front entrance this morning. I had to deactivate it before I
opened the door. Later, I just assumed that the intruder had cut the wires or
something.” “So, the stalker knew that the alarm had to be reset
or you’d notice,” Trixie surmised. “But how did that happen?” Honey’s forehead creased
in a quizzical manner. “The perp was still here when Jim arrived. How was it
reset from the inside?” “The system here has a feature that allows you to
automatically reset the alarm after five minutes,” Jim explained. “We would
use that option if we wanted to keep the doors unlocked but the alarm on.” Trixie stood slowly, a thoughtful expression causing
the left corner of her mouth to twitch. “Jim, what would happen if someone
opened the door from the inside with the system activated?” “The alarm would go off,” he answered. “We designed
it that way so we’d know if any of the students snuck out at night.” “After the alarm’s been reset, is it possible to turn
it off from the inside?” Trixie asked. “It can be done by computer.” Jim appeared completely
perplexed by this line of questioning. “Or if the computers aren’t working,
we can call the security company and they can take care of it.” Trixie bobbed her head up and down slowly, and it was
obvious by her distracted expression that the gears in her mind were turning
a mile a minute. “And if this isn’t done, the alarm goes off and the police
arrive within minutes?” “We’ve never had it happen, but yes, that’s the way
it’s supposed to work,” Jim
responded, his ginger brows drawn in confusion. “If someone knew about the reset option,” Trixie said
thoughtfully, “then I assume this person would also know the alarm would go
off if the door was opened.” Jim shrugged slightly. “Yeah, I guess so.” “So, this stalker broke into Ten Acres, but purposely
reset the alarm, knowing it would go off when the door was opened.” Trixie
wandered aimlessly around the room as she thought out loud to herself. “Why
would someone do that?” “Maybe it was a mistake,” Honey suggested. “I don’t think so,” Trixie drawled out, her eyes
narrowed critically. “Our perp’s too smart to screw up like that. If that
alarm had gone off, the cops would’ve high-tailed it to Ten Acres. Not
only that, everyone upstairs would’ve hustled down here to see what was
wrong. This would’ve made it almost impossible for her to escape.” Al threw his hands up in the air. “Uh, where’re you
goin’ with this, Miss Trixie? Who cares if this whacko knew about the alarm?
What’s that matter?” Trixie stood in front of the window, absentmindedly
twirling a curl as she pondered the situation. “What matters is that we’re
dealing with someone who’s very crafty, and if we can figure out why,
it might make it easier figuring out who.” “Well, that makes sense. I guess that’s why you’re
the gumshoe an’ I’m the muscle,” Al said with a snort. Trixie was too busy thinking to respond. “If I had
broken into the school and knew about the alarm, I wouldn’t have reset it.
Unless—” “Unless I wanted to get caught?” Honey supplied. “No, that’s not it.” Suddenly, like a flash of
lightning, Trixie whirled around and snapped her fingers. “I wouldn’t have
reset it unless I knew I wouldn’t get caught!” “Huh?” Al muttered. “I don’t get it…” “Whoever we’re dealing with knew Jim would be
here,” Trixie explained excitedly. “She knew it was safe to reset the alarm
because Jim would turn it off when he arrived. In fact, if the alarm wasn’t
on, then Jim would’ve known immediately that something was wrong and wouldn’t
have gone inside. She had to turn the alarm back on!” In spite of Trixie’s enthusiasm, Jim didn’t look
convinced. “I hate to ruin your theory, but I went to school early. I don’t
usually get here until “My guess is that she was watching Manor House,”
Trixie offered. “You probably caught her off guard by going in so early,
which is why she made the mistake of leaving those fingerprints on the
keypad. She knew she had to get in here quickly and was flustered.” “But why was it so important that I was even at the
school when the perp was here?” Jim insisted. “Wouldn’t it have been easier
to do this at night when everybody else is on the third floor?” Trixie sighed impatiently. “Jim, you’re the reason this is happening in the first place. She’s not
after the students; she’s after you.
This person’s obviously obsessed with you and wants to get your attention.” “Well, it worked,” he responded cynically. “Whoever’s
doing this not only has my attention, they have my undivided attention. I just wish they’d get their message across
and then leave me alone.” “But Trixie,” Honey began, “if the stalker wants to
get Jim’s attention, why didn’t they answer when Jim called?” “She probably just wanted to taunt him, or maybe
spook him a little,” Trixie offered with a shrug of her shoulders. “My guess
is that she’s not ready for a showdown yet.” “Would you please quit referring to this stalker as a
female?” Jim requested wearily. “Until the DNA or a picture of this perp proves me
wrong…” Trixie left her sentence unfinished as she started banging her
forehead with her hand. “How could we be so stupid?!” Jim looked at her quizzically. “What’re you talking
about, Trix?” Trixie ceased her slapping long enough to give an
explanation. “We’re sitting here, debating on the sex of this intruder, when
the proof’s been in front of us the whole time!” “What’re you talking about, Trixie?” Honey inquired
curiously. “There’s a surveillance camera in every hallway of
this entire building!” Trixie exclaimed. With a flourish, she pointed to the
small combination TV/VCR/DVD in the corner of Jim’s office. “Unless this
person’s invisible, they were captured on candid camera!” Jim shook his head in disbelief. “I can’t believe I
forgot about the cameras,” he muttered. “It’s easy to forget about something that you don’t
use very often,” Honey said in an attempt to soothe Jim’s ego. “Besides,
Trixie and I are the ones trained in this sort of thing. We’re the ones who
screwed up.” “Yeah,” Trixie agreed mournfully. “I should’ve
remembered that those cameras were there. I always try to dodge them when I’m
walking in the hallways.” “Uh, I don’t mean to interrupt,” Al interjected, “but
insteada yappin’ about whose fault it is, shouldn’t we be gettin’ a slant at
that tape?” “You’re right,” Jim said with a chuckle. “If you’ll
just get those tapes—” Before he could finish his request, Trixie had
already jumped out of her seat. “No, I’m faster! I’ll go.” Al stood to all his six-foot-five-inch glory. “No
offense, Miss Trixie, but you may be quicker, but I’m taller. Those cameras
are up pretty high, so how ‘bout you let me handle this?” Trixie stifled a groan as she craned her neck upward
in order to look Al somewhat in the eye. “It sucks being so vertically
challenged,” she mumbled. “Go on, Al. Just please hurry.” “You got it!” True to his word, Al left the room as
quickly as his bulky form would allow. Trixie reluctantly sat back down and waited for Al to
return with the tapes. Patience had never been one of her many virtues, so
she jiggled her foot nervously to help her bide the time. “Do you mind?” Honey asked, casting her friend a
sidelong glance. “Not at all,” Trixie replied absentmindedly, her foot
still wiggling up and down. Honey rolled her eyes. “Your foot is jostling my
chair.” “Oh.” Trixie looked down at her foot, and for the
first time noticed that the toe of her boot was banging against Honey’s seat.
She smiled sheepishly. “Oops. I guess I’m just anxious for Al to get back
with those tapes.” “Really?” Honey’s tone was sarcastic. “That’s so
unlike you, Trixie.” Jim shrugged his shoulders. “Hey, after my behavior
earlier, I’m not saying a word.” “It’s a good thing,” Trixie teased. Her foot began
tapping again, but she quickly clasped her hand around it to prohibit it from
moving. Feeling Honey’s hazel gaze, she giggled nervously. “Sorry. I’m really
quitting this time, I promise.” Luckily, Al returned before Trixie was put to the
test. As soon as he reentered Jim’s office, Trixie snatched the tapes and
loaded one of them into the VCR. They all huddled around the small
television, hoping the identity of Jim’s stalker would be revealed. Trixie aimed the remote at the TV as she pushed the rewind
button. “We should be getting a glimpse of our mysterious pen pal any minute
now…” “There!” Honey yelled, pointing to the image that had
just appeared on the screen. “Back it up a little more… Now stop!” Trixie complied, successfully pushing the play button
just before the figure came into the picture. “Here we go.” Four pairs of eyes squinted as they tried to discern
any of the stalker’s identifiable features. Unfortunately, the footage was
grainy, and it was difficult to make out any specific details. “Are those boobs, or is the perp’s jacket just
lumpy?” Trixie queried. “I’m not sure,” Honey murmured thoughtfully. “What do
you think, Jim?” “I think that I wish that it was hotter outside,” Jim
replied flatly. “It’s hard to make out any particulars under that winter
coat.” “The ski mask doesn’t help, either,” Trixie added
with a groan. Honey nodded. “Yeah, I can’t even make out the perp’s
hair color.” “Put in the other tape,” Jim directed. “Maybe it’ll
be clearer.” Trixie ejected the tape of the footage outside the
music room and inserted the tape shot outside the gymnasium. She quickly
rewound it to the appropriate spot and then pushed play. “This footage is a little better,” Honey said, “but
it still doesn’t show us much.” “I definitely think those are boobs,” Trixie
remarked. “How can you tell?” Jim questioned, doubt causing his
forehead to wrinkle. “It’s a girl thing,” Trixie said with a shrug. “We
can always tell if they’re real or if somebody’s stuffing.” Jim cocked his head to shoot Trixie a pensive look.
“We’re not checking to see if some sixth grade girl is stuffing her bra full
of cotton balls, Trix.” “I know that,” Trixie retorted defensively. “Then how can you tell for sure?” Jim demanded. “I just can.” Trixie groaned as she rolled her eyes.
“Those lumps under her jacket are too symmetrical and round not to be
breasts.” Al feigned a horrified expression. “You’re soilin’ my
virgin ears, Miss Trixie.” “Sorry, Al,” Trixie said with a giggle. “Seriously, Al,” Honey began, “what do you
think? Is that a man or a woman?” Al held up his meaty paws in protest. “Gee, Miss
Honey, me an’ the little tomato in that video ain’t been properly introduced,
so I’d hate to comment on her figure without buyin’ her a drink first.” “So, you think it is a woman,” Trixie
surmised. The burly bodyguard shrugged his shoulders. “Well, I
ain’t no pro snoop like you an’ Miss Honey, but yeah, I think it’s a broad.” “What makes you think that?” Jim asked. “She moves like a dame,” Al answered
matter-of-factly. Jim crossed his arms, his ginger brows arched
skeptically as he studied the footage. “How can you tell?” Al snorted. “Trust me, Mr. Jim. If you spent ten
years under glass, you’d be able to recognize a sister when you saw one, too.
After a decade in the stir, surrounded by a buncha ugly mugs, a fella comes
to appreciate the way a hot little number uses her pins to get around. Trust
me, that’s a woman in that video.” Trixie flashed Jim a smug grin. “Are you satisfied?” Instead of answering with words, Jim scowled in
response. “Say, Trixie,” Honey began in an attempt to change
the subject, “how tall do you think the perp is?” “Somewhere between five-foot-six and five-foot-nine,
I’d say,” Trixie guessed. “Just like we thought from the footprints.” Honey nodded in agreement. “I hope Jack’s friend can
tell us more.” “Any additional details would certainly help,” Trixie
added as she took out the tape. “Is that it?” Jim asked expectantly. “Can’t you tell
anything else from the videos?” “They’re just too grainy, Jim,” Trixie said
apologetically. “What do we do now?” Al inquired. “Looks like I’m buying better surveillance cameras to
replace these crappy ones,” Jim muttered under his breath. “Actually, you just need new tapes,” Honey corrected.
“You should be changing them every week or two, and I’m guessing you haven’t
been doing that.” “You’re right,” Jim affirmed. “Not changing tapes frequently enough is the most
common problem with video surveillance,” Honey explained. “If you change this
often, it’ll help immensely.” “And if you do decide to change cameras, I’d go
digital,” Trixie recommended. “That way, your cameras could be fed to a
computer using internet protocol and could be monitored anywhere.” “Would that help with the graininess?” Jim asked. “Unfortunately, because of the size limitation
factor, it’s all grainy,” Honey told him. “However, I know a company in
Alabama that could hook you up with a system to sharpen the footage.” Jim nodded thoughtfully. “I definitely want to check
into that.” “You also need to hire someone to watch these cameras
twenty-four hours a day,” Trixie advised. “We can recommend someone, if you’d
like.” Jim raked a hand through his hair. “If you’ll give me
those names before you leave, I can take care of it. I’ll talk to Marge about
turning one of our extra classrooms into a security station.” “And most importantly, you’ll need to contact the
security company ASAP about changing the code,” Honey added. Jim exhaled noisily, his shoulders sagging under the
weight of the ton of bricks burying him. “Yeah, I’ll take care of that, too.” Sensing Jim was growing more discouraged by the
second, Trixie offered some promising information. “The good news is that
after you change the code, your system can be set to automatically go off if
someone enters the old one.” Al had also picked up on Jim’s despair, so he was
quick to add his encouragement. “Hey, pipe that, boss!” he exclaimed. “We’ll
nab this patsy for sure next time.” “Unless the stalker knows that the code has been
changed,” Jim said quietly. That comment squelched any further attempts to shift
the focus to the bright side of this dismal situation. Honey cleared her
throat, hoping she could change the subject. “Well, it sounds like you’ve got
a plan about the cameras, so why don’t we move on?” “Good idea,” Trixie commented. She motioned to the
seating area. “Why don’t we grab a seat? There are a few more things we need
to take care of.” Once they were all reseated, Trixie put the security
tapes into the bag, exchanging them for a small notebook and a pen. “Jim, who
can has access to Ten Acres?” Jim scratched his chin as he considered her question.
“I’m afraid that’s quite a list. Everyone on staff has a set of keys.” “But you said earlier that a person would need the
keys and the code if the alarm was
on. Who has both?” Honey prompted. “That’s a good point, and it does shorten our list
considerably,” Jim mumbled in a thoughtful manner. “As I said, everyone that
works at Ten Acres has a set of keys to the building, but only a select few
know the code. We usually set the alarm only at night, so the staff can open
any locked door with their keys during school hours. However, if the alarm is
on and they need to get inside, they have to contact someone with the access
code who can turn it off by computer.” “So, who has the code?” Trixie prodded, her voice
taking on a sense of urgency. “Well, I do,” Jim replied. “But you probably knew
that.” Trixie made a rolling motion with her hands to
illustrate her lack of patience. “Yeah, yeah…” “Marge and Al both have it.” The corners of Jim’s
mouth wiggled, hinting that an impish grin threatened to surface. “And
there’s some weird guy in the journalism department you should definitely
check out. I think his current alias is Martin Belden. He’s a real dangerous
character. It runs in his family.” “Ha-ha.” Trixie did her best to hide her amusement
with her sarcastic laugh, but the twinkle in her eyes caused her to fail
miserably. “All right, now that you’ve fingered Sleepyside’s most wanted fugitive,
can you tell me who else has the
code?” “Marvin and Anita Curtis live here at Ten Acres,” Jim
answered. “Marv’s our caretaker, and Anita’s the head cook.” “Do they each have a key?” Honey inquired. Jim shook his head. “No, they share one, but they both
know the code.” “What about the custodial staff?” Honey asked. “We have three janitors, but only one has the code.
Randy James is his name.” Jim paused a moment to think, and then added,
“Also, our head dorm monitor has full access.” “What’s his name?” Trixie asked. “Michael Murray,” Jim replied. He watched curiously
as Trixie scribbled down the name. “You know, we already did background
checks on all our employees. As a matter of fact, you and Honey were the ones
who handled that.” Trixie’s brows raised expectantly. “And your point
is?” “My point is
that all these people are clean,” Jim retorted. “You won’t dig up any dirt on
them now.” “Those background checks were done almost a year
ago,” Trixie pointed out. “A lot can change in a few months. It won’t hurt to
give everyone a second look, and maybe Jack can dig up something we missed.
So, is that everyone?” “Yeah, that covers everyone at Ten Acres,” Jim said
briskly. Honey narrowed her hazel eyes in a critical manner as
she studied her brother’s guilty expression. “Doesn’t Dad have the code,
Jim?” “Well, yeah, but surely you don’t suspect him?” he
hedged, chuckling nervously. “Of course not,” Honey retorted. “I only asked
because I knew he was one of your trustees, and I thought they all were given
the security information in case there was an emergency.” “That’s true,” Jim acknowledged quietly. Trixie heaved a sigh of exasperation. “So, who’re the
other trustees, Jim?” “I really don’t think it’s necessary to investigate
the trustees,” Jim insisted. “They’re all upstanding citizens, and—” “Then I’m sure they won’t mind if Jack digs through
their closets to see if he can find any skeletons,” Trixie interrupted. She
tipped her head to one side and watched him, a smug smile on her face. “You
might as well tell me who they are, Jim. You know I’m going to find out one
way or another, and it would be a lot less painful for you if you’d be up
front with me. I’d appreciate your cooperation.” Jim drew a hesitant breath, and then asked, “You
promise to be discreet?” “You have my word,” Trixie vowed. “All right,” he agreed somewhat reluctantly. “I don’t
care if you check them out, but please remember that these are some of
Sleepyside’s most influential residents. If you offend them, they could really
cause problems for the school.” “I know, I know.” Trixie gave an impatient wave of
her hand. “This isn’t the first time that rich people have been investigated,
and I’m sure it won’t be the last. Now, are you going to tell me who your
trustees are, or do I need to drag the information out of your father?” “We have five trustees,” Jim finally said after a
long pause. “Like Honey so helpfully pointed out, Dad is one, and so is Ed
Lynch. I assume you won’t need to delve too deeply into their
backgrounds.” Except for a quick roll of her eyes, Trixie ignored
his sarcasm. “Who’re the others?” “Jacqueline Fitzgerald and Lila Davenport,” Jim
answered. “Mrs. Fitzgerald’s husband is a state senator, and Ms. Davenport is
a wealthy philanthropist whose grandfather made billions off oil. I’m sure if
you’d like some information about these ladies, the society pages would be
full of interesting tidbits.” Trixie waited for a moment, and then when it became
obvious that Jim had finished speaking, asked, “Okay, I give up. Who’s the
fifth trustee?” “Before I tell you,” Jim began slowly, “you’ve got to
swear that you won’t overreact.” Trixie batted her eyes at him in an angelic manner
and spoke in an overly sweet tone with a strangely menacing edge to it. “If
you don’t tell me who this fifth trustee is soon, I’ll be too old to hear
what you’re saying, which won’t matter because you’ll be too dead to tell me.
So just spit it out before I’m forced to strangle you.” “Carlton Woodward,” Jim answered, his voice barely
audible. “Carlton Woodward!” Trixie repeated, albeit with much more volume. “Amanda’s
father?!” Jim automatically braced himself. He knew this wasn’t
going to be pretty.
Thanks
again to my fabulous editors, Kaye, Steph H, and Trish B! Each of you was a tremendous
help writing this chapter. And I want to especially thank Trish for providing
such good information about the surveillance system. Without her input,
Trixie and Honey wouldn’t have looked nearly as intelligent. “CSI”
is a crime show that uses all sorts of nifty crime lab techniques to solve
crimes. For the record, I only like “CSI Miami”. This
chapter has had several drafts, all of which never even made it to my
editors. I researched the methods of crime scene analysis, even down to the
equipment they use, but I worried that I’d sound like the “Dry eyes” guy,
droning on and on. So I left it all out. I also had Trixie giving Jim a hard
time about him being so impatient, but I finally decided that Trixie of all
people would understand of that. Her ultimate concern was for Jim’s
well-being, and once that became her focus, it all fell into place. I
couldn’t resist the dig at Nancy Drew. Since Trixie has always preferred Lucy
to Nancy, she was eager to include that line. *wink* Once
again, all information about surveillance was provided by Trish. And yes,
there is a fabulous company in Alabama that can hook you up with that system… J Al’s glossary: All
silk?- Is everything okay? Dizzy
for a dame- to be in love with a woman Lammed off-
ran away, as in “on the lam” Cabbage-
money Left
him flat- left him without funds Tomato-
pretty girl Pinch-
to catch a perpetrator Eggs in
the coffee- easy Moll-
girlfriend Dick-
detective (So, I guess there was no doubt how Jim felt about Trixie in the
pre-schoolgirl shamus era, since he called her that. *wink*) The
Dutch Act- commit suicide Put the
screws on- to question harshly To
string someone along- to avoid telling the complete truth Sing-
to tell the truth Boozehound-
drunk Jug-
Penitentiary Burn
powder- to shoot with a gun Noodle-
someone’s head That’s
flat- I know how you feel Bo- Pal Chicago
overcoat- a coffin To flop
at- a refuge Getting
one’s elbows checked- to be arrested Dust
out- to leave Hitting
on all eight- things are going well, as in “hitting on all eight cylinders” Put one
wise- tell someone what’s going on Hammers
and saws- the police Peepers-
detectives The
rap- the results Gum it
up- to mess up The
rumble- the news Snow-bird-
a drug addict, particularly one addicted to cocaine A
flophouse- a transient hotel which is busy with all sorts of activity, mostly
of the illegal variety Clean
sneak- a getaway with no clues left behind Sharper-
a clever person committing crimes Meat-
your suspect Dogs-
feet Skirts-
women Strictly
section eight- off the deep end Crate-
car Ten
card- fingerprints on record A trip
for biscuits- a worthless venture To
finger- to identify Get a
slant at- to look at Pro
snoop- a professional detective Under
glass- in jail Sister-
a woman In the
stir- in jail Mugs-
men Number-
a man or a woman, usually a woman Pins-
legs Pipe
that- get that Patsy-
someone being set up
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