Part Two

Previously in this universe, Jim is in the hospital. The Woodwards came to visit him and asked him to continue pretending that his engagement to Amanda was still on. Jim agreed in spite of his father’s protests. This chapter picks up where “Kryptonite” left off.

Al is featured in this chapter. If you can’t figure out what he’s saying, I’ve included an Al lexicon in my credits which should translate everything for you. His obscure sayings have been written in black.

At the hospital…

Like the stench of death after a bloody battle, tension hung thick in the air of Jim’s hospital room. Matthew and his adopted son had always shared a close bond that went beyond genetics. Whatever they lacked due to heredity, loyalty sufficed. Even though the pair didn’t share the same bloodline, they shared the same values, the same principles, and many of the same characteristics. Frequently, when looking at a situation, they shared the same opinion on how to handle it.

This wasn’t one of those times.

Having accomplished their goal, Carlton and Natasha had left. They had no true concern for Jim, so there was no reason for them to linger. Once they’d made their exit, all the noise went with them, and neither Jim nor Matthew said a word.

Both stubborn redheads had definite ideas on how this situation should be handled, and neither planned to back down. Knowing it was pointless to argue, the two remained deadlocked in a showdown of silence. The room was so quiet that you could almost hear the solution drip from Jim’s IV.

The unsettling lull in conversation ended as Madeleine and Al returned. The unlikely duo appeared to have hit it off during their trip to the coffee shop and was engaged in a lively discussion.

“…only a few inches,” Madeleine was saying. “Or perhaps just a little off the top—”

“I don’t mean to be disrespectful, Miz Wheeler, but I’d rather be the guest of honor at a typewriter party than go to some fruity beauty shop. There ain’t no way I’m lettin’ some daisy scalp me. Sorry, but that ain’t happenin’!”

“Stefan isn’t fruity…Okay, he might be a little fruity, but he’s very talented,” Madeleine told him.

“Sorry, Miz Wheeler, but I ain’t no apple. I know I look like a candy brain, but it ain’t duck soup to pull one over on me.”

“Al, I know perfectly well that you aren’t a pear,” Madeleine insisted. She had no way of knowing that Al’s “apple” had nothing to do with fruit. “Trust me; you’d look so handsome with a proper haircut. I wouldn’t insult you for the world, but that ponytail doesn’t flatter you at all. And don’t get me started on that scruffy beard.”

At the mention of his facial hair, Al looked truly hurt as he ran his hand over his long whiskers. “You can say whatcha want about my hair, but don’t mess with my beard.”

“But it makes you look so mean, and you’re such a compassionate man!” Sensing she was doing more to harm her cause than further it, Madeleine wisely chose her battle and decided to focus on Al’s scraggly mane. “Even if you left your beard, a shorter haircut would be a tremendous improvement.”

Al shook his head. “But you’re tryin’ to turn me into some empty-suit. This might surprise you, but I’m a headcrusher, not some left-handed wife wantin’ to get all dolled up.”

“Oh, I’m not asking you to wear a suit, although with your build, a double-breasted Armani would accentuate your broad shoulders nicely,” Madeleine told him ever so helpfully. “All I’m asking is that you get a decent haircut. Stefan could take you to a whole new level.”

Al quirked a bushy brow at her. “I ain’t so sure I wanna go to any level that nance could take me to. An’ if I ever do chop off some of this mane, it’ll be at a barber shop. I mean, I ain’t hooked up with the mob no more, but I still wouldn’t want the administration catchin’ me in some beauty shop for dames, gettin’ my hair done by some fanook.”

She wagged a manicured finger at the burly bodyguard; she wasn’t sure what “fanook” meant, but she was smart enough to know Al wasn’t paying Stefan a compliment. “Why, Al Spurgeon. Of all people, you should know better than to judge a book by its cover. Stefan has quite a reputation as a men’s stylist. In fact, Matthew goes to him all the time. Isn’t that right, dear?”

Madeleine Wheeler was more than a rich, beautiful socialite that had been born with a silver spoon in her mouth; she was also a keenly astute woman that picked up on the moods of others just as easily as her husband predicted what the stock market would do. It was easy for her to see that something was amiss.

“Matthew, what’s wrong?” she asked, her voice taking on a slight quiver.

“Nothing’s wrong, Mother,” Jim answered before his father had the chance.

Skeptical, Madeleine focused her gaze on her husband, waiting for him to assuage her fears. “What did Carlton and Natasha want? They didn’t cause trouble, did they?”

When several seconds passed without a response, she asked another question. “Were they angry with you, Jim? Surely not…”

Jim jumped in quickly. “No, they weren’t mad. They just wanted to check on me. Everything’s fine, Mother.”

“Son, you’re a horrible liar.” Madeleine’s mouth settled into a thin, rigid line, and for once she looked her age. “What happened with the Woodwards? And don’t you dare coddle me and tell me nothing, because I can tell by both of your expressions that something happened and it wasn’t good.”

Matthew finally broke his vigil of silence. “Carlton and Natasha stopped by to ask Jim to pretend that he and Amanda were still engaged.”

“Why on earth would they ask that?” Madeleine gasped.

“Supposedly, they want to protect Amanda’s memory,” Matthew explained. “They claim that going public with their breakup now after her death will tarnish her image.”

“But that’s ridiculous! Jim would have to be a fool to agree to that!” Madeleine exclaimed.

“Yes, I agree,” Matthew agreed, shooting his son a dirty look.

“Were the Woodwards upset when Jim told them no?” Madeleine asked. She was confused when her question was met with silence. “Why isn’t anyone saying anything? Jim, you did tell them no, didn’t you?”

When Jim remained silent, his father prompted him to speak. “Answer her question, son.”

Madeleine gaze fastened onto Jim’s. Her tear-filled hazel eyes implored him to put her mind at ease, but in her heart, she knew comfort would not come. “Please tell me you didn’t agree to their request, Jim. Please!”

“I’m sorry, Mother, but I can’t do that,” Jim told her, his voice raw with emotion.

Now that her worst fears were realized, the unfettered tears trickled down her cheeks. “Why would you do something so foolish, son?”

Undeterred by his mother’s tears, Jim set his face like a flint. “I did what I had to do.”

“But don’t you realize what that means?” she cried. “The police will eventually question you about Amanda’s death. Do you intend to lie to purposely mislead them?”

“I’ll try my best not to lie—”

“You make it sound simple, but it isn’t,” Madeleine interrupted. “You’re playing with fire. If you lead the police to believe you were still engaged to Amanda and they discover that you weren’t… That would make you look very suspicious.”

Jim nodded his head. “Yes, it might. However, I know I’m innocent, so I’ll have to trust that justice will prevail.”

Madeleine’s laugh was hollow. “That all sounds well and good, but unfortunately we’re living in the real world, not a comic book. Sometimes innocent people are convicted of crimes they didn’t commit.”

“Mother, I know what I’m doing.”

“No, son, I don’t think you do,” she said bluntly. Usually the epitome of elegance and poise, Madeleine crumpled into a chair and buried her face in her hands. “This is all my fault.”

Her husband walked over to her and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “This isn’t your fault, darling. Jim’s the one that agreed to their harebrained scheme.”

“Gee, thanks, Dad,” Jim muttered.

Madeleine shook her head. “No, if I hadn’t convinced you to agree to their initial request to delay announcing the breakup, we wouldn’t be in this mess now.”

Although Jim tended to agree with her, he bit his tongue. “What’s done is done. You and Dad did what you thought you had to do to protect the school.”

Madeleine refused to find comfort in his words. “No, we shouldn’t have cared about you losing investors for Ten Acres. As much money as we have, we could’ve handled the cost ourselves with no problem.”

“Mother, you know I never would’ve agreed to that,” Jim pointed out. “As much as I appreciate your willingness to help, I need to keep this school open myself. In this economy, we can’t afford to lose investors. You know that as well as I do, which is why you urged me to placate the Woodwards.”

“If I had it to do over again, I would’ve told them to take a hike, and if you lost investors over it, I would’ve forced you to accept our help,” Madeleine sniffled.

“Stubborn redhead that I am, I never would’ve agreed to that,” Jim told her lightly.

“Well, I may not be a redhead, but I can be just as stubborn as you,” she maintained. “After living with your father all these years, I’ve become almost as obstinate as he is, so if I had wanted you to take the money, you would’ve taken it.”

“It’s not even about the money, Mother.” Jim paused to rub the part of his aching head that wasn’t covered by a bandage. He wasn’t sure if his pain medicine was wearing off or if the stress of the day was causing the throbbing sensation in his temples. “I don’t care if we lose every single investor we have; I need to protect Trixie. Nothing else matters to me, not even the school.”

“Protect Trixie from what?” Madeleine shot her husband a quizzical look, hoping he would help clear things up. Unfortunately, his lips were clamped shut in a frown, his arms were crossed, and his fingers were clenched tightly. Madeleine knew what that look meant; Matthew was so angry that all he could do was sit and stew. When he finally did respond, it likely wouldn’t be in a positive manner. Since neither her husband nor her son had answered her question, she reworded it. “Why do you need to protect Trixie? Did the Woodwards threaten her?”

“Well, sort of, but that’s not what I’m worried about,” he explained rather poorly. “Trixie can handle anything Amanda’s parents dish out.”

“Then what has you so concerned?” Madeleine prodded.

“Whoever killed Amanda likely did it because of me.” Jim’s voice was ragged. After the events of the day, he was weary, both physically and emotionally. “Once this nutcase finds out about Trixie, she’ll be in danger.”

“Jim, I appreciate your concern for Trixie, but you can’t protect her as well as the authorities could,” Madeleine pointed out. “If you don’t let them know what’s going on, they’re put at a disadvantage, and frankly, so is Trixie.”

In spite of the pain, Jim shook his head. “No, if nobody knows about her, there’s no need for protection. I want to keep Trixie out of this. She’s suffered enough because of my idiocy through the years.”

“I know you mean well, but you haven’t thought this through,” Madeleine soothed. “Once you’ve had some time to rest and recover, you’ll come to your senses. I’m sure we can work something out with the Woodwards—”

“No, I’m not going to change my mind!” Jim exploded. “I know what I’m doing.”

Unable to listen anymore, Matthew jumped out of his chair, sending it skidding across the floor and crashing against the wall. In desperate need of a breather, he stomped out the door and waited in the hallway. The fury coursing through him made his skin tingle; all the anger building up inside of him made him fearful he might literally explode.

Several minutes later, the door opened. Matthew expected to see his wife standing there, but much to his surprise, Al Spurgeon was there instead.

“Don’t worry, Al; I want to kill him, but I’m not going to,” Matthew said through gritted teeth.

“Well, I don’t recommend that you break an egg, but I can’t say that I’d blame you if you did. Mr. Jim’s so dizzy for that moll of his that he ain’t makin’ no sense. After that fall he took, I don’t think that his big brain is hittin’ on all eight.”

Matthew’s sandy brows met in a deep groove above his nose. “So you agree that Jim’s acting like an idiot?”

“Yep, I sure do.”

“Then why didn’t you say something in there?” Matthew demanded.

Al shrugged his bear-like shoulders. “Hey, it ain’t my place. He’s the don an’ I’m just the button man. The way I see it, my job’s to protect Mr. Jim, not tell him when he ain’t makin’ any sense. He’s a grown man. If he wants to lie to the cherry-tops to protect Trixie, that’s his business. I sure ain’t gonna butt in.”

“Do you have kids, Al?”

“None that I know of,” was Al’s honest response.

“Well, if you had children of your own, you’d understand why I’m allowed to butt in.” Matthew raked a hand through his red hair. “I know Jim thinks he’s doing the right thing, but he’s making a horrible mistake.”

“I could be wrong, but I think Mr. Jim knows what the deal is. He ain’t no babbo.”

Physically drained, Matthew sagged against the wall behind him. “Then why in the name of God is he willing to throw everything away?”

“Because Trixie’s worth it,” Al replied. “I know from nothin’ when it comes to love, but I do know life ain’t worth much without it. If Mr. Jim lost Trixie, he’d be better off on the barbeque stool. His life wouldn’t mean squat without his moll dick.”

Matthew nodded thoughtfully, but he didn’t say anything.

“The way I see it,” Al continued, “if Mr. Jim comes clean about him an’ Amanda, an’ that headcase finds out about Trixie an’ ices her, he’d never forgive himself. He’d rather go to the hot plate an’ keep her safe than be a free man an’ put her in danger.”

“So what do we do?”

“I dunno,” Al said. “Love him in spite of the fact he’s bein’ a chumbolone, I guess. That’s what my Ma did with me. Of course, I didn’t turn out so good, so maybe that ain’t the best example…”

Matthew clapped Al on the back. “I think you turned out just fine, Al. I appreciate the words of wisdom.”

“Hey, no problem. Gimme the buzz any time you’re behind the eight ball, bo.”

“Well, if Jim’s going to continue with this charade, then I should probably talk things out with him,” Matthew said. “I don’t approve of what he’s doing, but I don’t want him to make things worse by saying the wrong thing. Lord knows that boy couldn’t lie if his life depended on it. Normally, that’s a good thing, but in a situation like this, it wouldn’t hurt him to be able to bend the truth a little. The least I can do is coach him up a bit.”

“If you wanna give him some words of wisdom, I suggest you do it quick.” Al tipped his head in the direction of two men walking towards them. “Judgin’ by them suits comin’ our way, we’re either gettin’ a visit from some wiseguys or the hammer an’ saws. And considerin’ how cheap their suits are, my guess is we ain’t lookin’ at no Mustache Petes. I just hope they ain’t meat eaters.”

Praying Al was just being paranoid, Matthew looked down the hall. Sure enough, two men were quickly approaching them. “What do we do?”

“Go back in that room an’ be there for your son, goomba.”

Matthew nodded. “It might be best if you aren’t here when they question Jim. I don’t know what all he’s planning to tell the police, but he might not want to let them know he hired a bodyguard.”

“Good thinkin’. I’m gonna sneak an’ go down to the coffee shop. Come get me after these elephant ears dust out.”

“Will do.”

Al walked away just as the two detectives made their approach.

“Matthew Wheeler?” the older one asked.

“Yes?”

“I’m Detective Weirton, and this is my partner, Detective Rodriguez. We’re investigating the murder of Amanda Woodward. Is your son up for some company?”

In his line of work, Matthew had to be a master of the poker face. He hoped and prayed that he could keep his worry hidden as to not arouse the detectives’ suspicion. “Well, as you know, it’s been a tough day for Jim. He’s exhausted—both physically and emotionally— but I’m sure he’ll want to speak with you. He’s quite anxious for Amanda’s killer to be caught.”

“As are we, Mr. Wheeler,” Bennie replied, the glint in his eye more telling than his actual words.

“Since your son is so eager for his fiancée’s killer to be brought to justice, let’s not wait another minute,” Charlie said.

With a curt nod, Matthew opened the door to Jim’s room and led the detectives inside. The situation was now out of his hands. His only option was to hope Jim knew what he was doing and pray for the best.

Although Jim and Madeleine had been expected Matthew to return, they weren’t expecting him to be accompanied by two men dressed in suits. Jim had watched enough crime dramas to discern that they were most likely plainclothes detectives that had come to talk to him about Amanda’s murder.

“Jim Frayne?” the older one asked.

“Yes?”

“I’m Detective Weirton,” he said, flashing his badge, “and this is Detective Rodriguez. We need to ask you a few questions about Amanda Woodward.”

Knowing when to make an exit, Madeleine rose gracefully and gathered her handbag. “Detectives, unless you need to speak with me, I’ll leave you alone. This room is much too small to accommodate five adults, and I’m feeling a little claustrophobic. If you need me, I’ll be in the waiting room.”

“That’s fine, ma’am,” Bennie told her. Fancying himself a real playboy, he flashed her a charming smile.

“Are you coming with me or staying here?” she asked her husband.

Matthew looked hard at his son. “Jim, it’s your call. Do want me to stay here with you, or would you prefer that I go?”

“Go with Mother,” Jim answered. “With all those reporters skulking around, I’d rather her not be alone.”

Although he hoped he’d be given the invitation to stay, Matthew abided by his son’s wishes. “If you need us, we’ll be outside,” he said quietly. Feeling like he was leaving an innocent lamb in the presence of hungry wolves, he went against his better judgment, took his wife’s elbow, and led her outside.

Jim motioned to the two empty chairs on either side of his bed. “Have a seat,” he told them. “Sorry that I can’t offer you something to drink. Perhaps if you would’ve visited me at my home, I could’ve been a better host.”

“That’s fine,” Charlie said gruffly. “We aren’t here for a social visit.”

“We’re sorry to bother you while you’re in the hospital, but we don’t have a lot of time to waste,” Bennie explained. “Of course, I’m sure you’re as anxious as we are to find out who killed Amanda. We understand that you were engaged to her.”

After a second of hesitation, Jim replied, “Yes, I was.” He hoped he hadn’t emphasized the past tense too badly and given himself away.

“We’re sorry for your loss,” Bennie said.

“Thank you,” Jim murmured. His voice cracked out of nervousness; however, it gave the illusion that he was emotional, although that wasn’t his intention.

Charlie drew his hooded brows together in a contemplative frown. “Why don’t you tell us about Amanda? How did everyone feel about her?”

“Amanda was a strong, independent, smart, generous, and beautiful woman.” Jim’s smile was sentimental as he recalled his former fiancée’s finer qualities. “She donated a lot of time and money to various charity organizations. In fact, we met at a fundraising event.”

“Did she have any qualities that might rub people the wrong way?” Bennie prodded.

Suddenly overcome with sadness by the loss, Jim’s eyes misted over. “Amanda did have a rather braying laugh. A lot of people found it annoying, but it amused me. She could come across as pretentious, but she had a good heart and was actually quite insecure.”

The detectives remained quiet as Jim reminisced. It was common for a victim’s loved ones to ramble. The key was to listen, as sometimes seemingly insignificant details often proved to be vital.

“She was well-respected, but she’d never be mistaken for Miss Congeniality,” Jim continued. “She could be a cutthroat businessperson, just like her father. She was determined to succeed, and she didn’t let anyone get in her way. She may have been born with a silver spoon in her mouth, but she was doggedly determined to succeed on her own merit. That’s one of the things I admired most about her.”

“Is it possible that someone didn’t share your admiration?” Bennie queried. “I mean, not everyone’s impressed by a woman with that kind of drive; some people might find her behavior insulting.”

Jim leveled his disconcerting gaze on the detective. He got the impression that Detective Rodriguez was speaking from a firsthand perspective. “I suppose there are some male chauvinist pigs out there that can’t appreciate a successful woman. I don’t know that Amanda came across any; if she did, she didn’t mention them to me.”

“Did she have any enemies at work?” Charlie asked.

Jim shook his head. “No, the people she worked with at her design business seemed to like her. Of course, she was the boss, so I doubt anyone would complain about her to her face.”

Charlie paused in his note taking. “Any disgruntled employees, perhaps?”

“None that I know of,” Jim replied. He wished he could tell them that even if Amanda had been having problems with someone, she wouldn’t have confided in him. He only hoped the detectives had asked her parents these same questions.

“Amanda treated her employees well, and her firm was making a lot of money in spite of the bad economy,” he continued. “If anyone was upset with her, it would’ve been rival interior decorators, and I can’t imagine that any of them would hurt her.”

“So, her business was totally legit?” Bennie asked. “Nothing hinky going on at work that might’ve put a target on her?”

“No, if anything business-related put a target on her, it wasn’t because of anything she did.” Jim’s answer unintentionally opened the door to a whole new line of questions.

“What was it then?” Charlie prompted. “I can tell you have something in mind.”

Jim paused, wondering if he should voice his suspicions or keep his mouth shut. He decided to talk. “Amanda’s business was completely on the up-and-up, but there are rumors that her father’s isn’t.”

Charlie’s bushy eyebrows winged upward. “What kind of rumors?”

“I’ve never seen anything firsthand, but I’ve heard that Carlton is hooked up with the mob,” Jim told them. “According to the grapevine, the mafia funnels a lot of money into his company. I never put any stock in it, though, until recently. Since then I’ve seen some things that have made me wonder. Nothing concrete, mind you, just things I’ve noticed and comments I’ve heard from those I trust.”

Charlie tapped his pen as he considered the accusation. He had heard similar rumors elsewhere, and the thought crossed his mind that Amanda’s death may have been a mob hit. Of course, he also had to wonder if Jim was trying to send them on a wild goose chase to keep them from unearthing the real killer. It was definitely something to think about.

Knowing it was the right thing to do, Jim decided to come clean about his stalker. “If you’re going to add enemies to the list of potential suspects, I have one,” he began tenuously. “Someone has been sending me anonymous letters for the past few months, and I can’t help but wonder if this stalker killed Amanda.”

“Stalker. That’s a harsh term to use. Sending a couple of unsigned letters doesn’t necessarily make someone a stalker,” Bennie scoffed.

“Did this person threaten you or Amanda?” Charlie asked.

“No, there wasn’t a literal word-for-word threat, but if you read between the lines, the last couple letters were ominous,” Jim admitted.

Bennie rolled his eyes. “Did this supposed stalker ever make direct contact with you or harm you in any way?”

“My school was broken into,” Jim told them. “We’re fairly certain it was the stalker.”

“Was anything damaged or stolen?” Charlie inquired.

“Well, no, but a letter was left inside the school,” Jim replied, quickly losing his patience.

“But you can’t be positive it wasn’t there before,” Bennie said. “Furthermore, anyone with a key to your school could’ve gotten inside and left that letter there. Am I right?”

“I guess, but—”

Charlie’s eyes narrowed to suspicious slits, a critical expression on his face as he studied the subject of their interview. “Jim, do you know of anyone who might be after you?”

“Only this stalker,” Jim insisted.

“But do you know anyone who is angry enough with you to kill?” Charlie prodded.

“Only my stepfather, and he’s in prison,” Jim answered.

“Could he be the one sending those poison pen letters?” Bennie inquired.

Jim shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. I suspected him at first, but now I don’t think he has anything to do with it. I think it’s a woman that’s in love with me.”

Charlie’s bushy gray eyebrows shot up. “Any guesses who that woman is?”

“No, none at all,” Jim said. “I’ve dated several women through the years, but I don’t think any of them would murder Amanda.”

“That’s assuming your stalker is Amanda’s murderer, and that has yet to be determined,” Bennie pointed out. Obviously critical of the notion of a stalker, he added, “A lot of people throw that term ‘stalker’ around, when really they’re just being pestered a little, not stalked. You wouldn’t believe the calls we get from panicky women claiming they’re being stalked. After a little investigating, we usually find out the stalker is her neighbor, and because of his schedule, he left the same time she did every day and was headed in the same direction. And sometimes it’s some poor sap that keeps calling his ex, wanting all his stuff back that she stole from him. Rarely is it ever a life or death situation.”

Charlie nodded his agreement. “Detective Rodriguez is right. Do you have any solid proof this stalker was involved?”

“No,” Jim replied, knowing the detectives would dismiss everything he had now.

“Have the Sleepyside authorities determined that a crime was committed?” Bennie queried.

“Well, no, but I do have some private investigators working on it,” Jim informed them.

Even though Bennie felt he knew the answer, he asked the question anyway. “And who are those detectives?”

“Jack Palmer, a private investigator based in Los Angeles, is handling the case,” Jim explained. “My sister is also a detective, and she and her business partner are helping with some of the legwork.”

“And have they learned anything thus far that would tell us exactly who Amanda’s killer is?” Charlie prodded.

Feeling his temper rise to the surface, Jim struggled to keep his answers civil. “Not exactly, but they seem to think that it’s a possibility that whoever is stalking me killed Amanda.”

“Mmm-hmmm,” Bennie murmured. He didn’t bother to hide his contempt. He hated private investigators, or wanna-be’s as he called them. “Well, if your private dicks stumble on any crucial clues, tell them to pay us a visit.”

Jim drew back in surprise. “So you don’t even want to talk to them? Don’t you want to see what evidence they’ve gathered?”

“The NYPD will be conducting our own investigation,” Charlie said matter-of-factly. “If we need something they have, we’ll be in touch.”

Jim could feel his jaw harden and his pulse quicken. After being verbally attacked by his loved ones for not talking to the police, he couldn’t believe the attitude of these two homicide detectives. They either didn’t believe him or they didn’t feel it was of any importance; Jim wasn’t sure which. Regardless, he felt like a fool for bringing it up.

That’s the last time I mention it to these jerks, he determined. Jack and the girls know what’s going on. Who cares if idiots bumble around and follow false leads? They probably couldn’t solve a jaywalking. My investigators probably have a better chance of figuring it out anyway.

Charlie’s eyes narrowed again as he regarded Jim with a probing glare. The cynical detective couldn’t help but wonder if Jim had mentioned the “stalker” to divert their attention. Dismissing the claims, Charlie decided to shift the line of questioning. He steepled his fingers together in a thoughtful manner.

“Jim, I’ve been a detective for a long time. In all my years investigating murders, I’ve learned that more often than not, the killer’s someone close to the victim rather than some mysterious stalker. On a more personal level, how were things between you and your fiancée?” he asked, closely studying Jim for any sign of deception.

Sensing that he was in the hot seat, Jim returned Charlie’s glare. “Good,” was his clipped response.

“Just good?” Bennie drew back in surprise.

“Things were great,” Jim elaborated. “I’m not sure what else to tell you.”

“When was the last time you spoke with Amanda?” Charlie questioned.

Remembering that they’d had an awkward conversation the night before about a charity event, Jim was able to answer the question honestly. “Last night. We talked on the phone for several minutes.”

“And how was that?” Bennie prodded. “Was everything all right between you?”

Jim shrugged. “Everything was normal.” However, he didn’t feel the need to explain to the police what “normal” was for him and his “fiancée.”

“Are you sure you weren’t mad at each other or arguing about something?” Bennie pried.

“No, we weren’t fighting about anything,” Jim answered. “Everything was fine.”

Charlie decided it was time to take things up a notch. “I’m glad to hear that, Jim, because I heard a rumor about you today.”

A single ginger brow shot up. “Really? What was it?”

“I heard you were having an affair,” Charlie responded. “Is that true? Were you in a relationship with someone besides Amanda?”

Jim’s pulse quickened. “Pardon?”

Bennie held out his hands in a shrug. “It’s an easy question, Jim. Are you having sex with anyone besides Amanda?”

Now that they had rephrased the question, Jim could answer in good conscience. “No, I most certainly am not,” he replied honestly.

The detectives searched Jim’s face for any sign of deceit. To their surprise, there wasn’t any. In spite of his initial hesitance, he appeared to be telling the truth. Unless, of course, he was an excellent liar.

“So you’d be willing to swear that you weren’t screwing around on your fiancée?” Charlie challenged.

“On a stack of Bibles,” Jim said without skipping a beat.

Bennie smirked. “C’mon, Jim. You mean to tell me that a rich, good-lookin’ guy like you isn’t getting a little on the side? If you are, I’d be the last one to judge you. Ain’t that right, Charlie?”

“That’s right,” his partner agreed. “Like Bennie always says, what his wife doesn’t know won’t hurt her.”

“Yeah, even if I fool around, I still love my old lady,” Bennie maintained. “That doesn’t make me a bad guy; it makes me human.”

Instead of the guilt the detectives had hoped to find on Jim’s face, they only found contempt. Unconvinced that Jim was so much better than himself, Bennie continued.

“It wouldn’t make you a bad guy either, Jim, and it certainly wouldn’t make you a killer. I mean, adultery’s one thing, but murder’s another. Besides, you weren’t even married yet, so who cares if you were screwing someone else?”

“I would care,” Jim ground out through clenched teeth. “No decent man treats the woman he loves like that. So, for the last time, I am not involved in a sexual relationship with someone else, because unlike you, I am a man of integrity.”

Jim’s words had struck a nerve with the younger detective. Bennie’s blue eyes were frosty as he offered a challenge. “I don’t care how much integrity you claim to have; everyone has secrets, and I have a feeling that yours got Amanda killed,” he spat out.

Although he couldn’t lie, Jim could keep a blank face. It was something he’d learned out of necessity during his time with Jonesy. When his stepfather had flown into one of his abusive rages, any reaction from Jim would add fuel to the fire. Jonesy fed off fear. The more intimidated Jim was, the worse the beating would be. Likewise, if Jim maintained an expression of apathy throughout the ordeal, the thrill disappeared for Jonesy. Once the violence grew boring, the beating would cease.

Unfortunately for Jim, Jonesy was creative when it came to inflicting torture, and he constantly honed his craft. He gradually increased the levels of anguish, forcing Jim to withstand more and more pain. It was their special game; a battle of survival between stepfather and stepson, and there was little doubt in Jim’s mind that it would’ve eventually cost him his life.

In hindsight, that battle for survival had trained Jim for this moment. If he flinched now, he could tip his hand. His freedom— possibly his very life— could hinge upon his ability to maintain a look of indifference. Thankfully for him, compared to Jonesy, Detective Rodriguez was a creampuff. Not intimidated in the slightest, Jim’s expression was set like a flint as he stared down his interrogators. The detectives hoped for some sort of a response from him, yet Jim silently stared them down, his stone-like features mocking their arrogance. He sat back and waited for them to back off, but right when victory seemed imminent, Bennie threw him for a loop.

Frustrated that he’d been unable to elicit the reaction from Jim that he’d been hoping for, Bennie decided to throw him a curve ball.

“Well, I guess I was wrong. It sounds like you and Amanda were a storybook couple,” he observed. “You were a regular Prince Charming, and you were excited about living happily ever after with your dream girl. Isn’t that right?”

“I…I guess so…” Jim faltered, caught off guard by the change in tactics.

“You were a blessed man,” Bennie goaded. “Not everyone is as lucky. It sounds like everything was perfect.”

“Well, no relationship is perfect…” Jim began.

Charlie was quick to pounce on that admission. “Then you admit you and Amanda had problems.”

“Of course we had problems; everyone does!”

“Did Amanda have a problem with you?” Bennie inquired.

“I… I don’t know,” Jim stammered. “She might have. I mean, I’m not perfect, but as far as I know, nothing had changed between us.”

Bennie practically licked his chops at the prospect of pulling the rug out from under Jim. The detective could’ve easily come right out and asked Jim if Amanda had cancelled their wedding. However, dragging it out slowly was so much more satisfying.

“Charlie and I talked to Alexandra Birch earlier,” he remarked in a seemingly offhand manner. “You know who she is, don’t you, Jim?”

Jim nodded, completely confused where this was going. “She’s Amanda’s wedding planner. Amanda was killed outside her office. Was she involved in the murder?”

“Not at all,” Bennie answered. “However, she provided us with a lot of helpful information.”

“Good, I hope it pans out,” Jim said.

“Yeah, so do we.” Bennie paused briefly to savor the moment. “Jim, did you know that Amanda was planning to call off the wedding?”

In the detectives’ eyes, if Jim wasn’t truly shocked, he had missed his calling as an actor. He could’ve won an Oscar for the surprised expression on his face. Blown away, he shook his head numbly as he searched for a response. “Amanda wasn’t going to call off the wedding.”

“She was according to her wedding planner,” Charlie informed him. “That’s what their meeting was about this morning.”

“That’s not possible,” Jim insisted.

“Maybe things between you two weren’t so perfect after all,” Charlie said.

Jim shook his head again, unable to comprehend. Finally it dawned on him. Amanda had planned to double-cross him by announcing their breakup first. Suddenly it made sense why the detectives thought he was having an affair; Amanda had led Alexandra Birch to believe he’d been cheating on her. It was exactly the sort of publicity stunt that Cameron Banks, the Woodwards’ PR man, would’ve concocted.

“If that’s true, she never told me,” he whispered huskily.

“Are you sure about that, Jim?” Bennie challenged. “I find it hard to believe that she told her wedding planner and not you. And if she did tell you, I’ll bet it would’ve made you mad. Maybe mad enough to hurt someone.”

The insinuation caused Jim’s eyes to glow greener. “I swear to God that I didn’t know.”

“Unless the man upstairs Himself comes down and offers you an alibi, you’ll have to pardon our skepticism,” Bennie needled.

Charlie decided to play devil’s advocate. “Let’s say we do believe you, Jim. What would you have done if Amanda had told you?”

“I wouldn’t have killed her, that’s for sure,” Jim thundered.

“So, what would you have done?” Charlie repeated.

Jim shrugged. “I would’ve gone on with my life; I certainly wouldn’t have ended hers.”

“But you would’ve been devastated?” Charlie offered.

“Well…yeah, of course,” Jim stammered.

Charlie carefully studied Jim’s body language. Unless he missed his guess, Jim was more surprised than heartbroken by the news that his fiancée had planned to end their engagement. That told him two things. One, Jim Frayne hadn’t been deeply in love with Amanda. Two, even if she had broken up with him, he wouldn’t have been upset enough to kill her. Instead of continuing to beat around the bush, he tried a more direct approach.

“Did you kill Amanda, Jim?”

“No!” Jim adamantly denied. “Why in the name of God would I do that?”

Bennie shrugged. “I have no idea,” he said. “Frankly, I don’t know why Jeffrey Dahmer ate people, but he did. People do crazy stuff. It’s not up to me to figure out why; my job is to get the whack jobs off the streets.”

“Then instead of harassing me, why don’t you get out there and find the psycho that shot Amanda?” Jim demanded.

“That’s what we’re trying to do,” Charlie answered calmly. “Do you watch the news, Jim?”

He numbly nodded in response.

“Then it shouldn’t come as a surprise to you that of all the women murdered in the U.S., one-third of them are killed by their husband or boyfriend,” Charlie informed him. “I don’t care how rich you are, how much you give to charity, how much integrity you claim to have… You were Amanda’s fiancé, and that alone puts you under our microscope.”

The older detective’s explanation did much to soothe Jim’s ruffled feathers. When he spoke this time, his tone was much more civil.

“When you put it that way, I don’t blame you for questioning me,” Jim said. “However, I have to admit that when you make crazy accusations it frustrates me. I want to get out of this bed and track down the monster that did this, but instead, I’m the one being accused. And although I understand why you suspect me, I know I’m innocent, so I find it frustrating that you’re wasting your time on me when the real killer’s out there.”

“We can’t find him without turning over a lot of rocks,” Charlie pointed out. “It’s a tough job, and since we didn’t know Amanda, we need all the help we can get from those that loved her to give us insight. You want to help us, don’t you, Jim?”

“Of course I do,” Jim murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “As a man, I take pride in my strength, and it kills me that I wasn’t strong enough to protect Amanda. I’d do anything to bring her back, but since I can’t, I’ll do everything in my power to bring her killer to justice.”

Bennie had been quiet during Jim’s exchange with his partner. In typical good cop-bad cop style, he assumed the role of the antagonist. “I want to believe you, Jim, but there are a few things that keep nagging at me.”

“Such as?” Jim challenged.

“Well, for starters, who is Trixie?” Hoping to raise Jim’s hackles, Bennie snickered. “Sounds like a stripper or hooker to me.”

Jim was wise enough not to take the bait. Biting back his preferred response, he kept any trace of anger from his voice. “Trixie is a longtime friend of mine. We’ve known each other since we were young teenagers. Why do you ask?”

“Because you yelled her name when you saw Amanda’s body. Detective Weirton and I heard you with our own ears.” Bennie scratched his chin in a thoughtful manner. “If you ask me, that’s kind of odd. Why would you yell another woman’s name when you see your fiancée lying dead in the street? It doesn’t make sense. Unless, of course, you thought Trixie was responsible…”

Jim’s chuckle was more from disbelief than amusement. “Now that is crazy. Trixie had even less of a reason to kill Amanda than I did.”

“Are you sure about that, Jim?” Bennie challenged. “In my years as a cop, I’ve learned there’s nothing more dangerous than a jealous woman. You call Trixie a friend, but maybe she wanted more than that, and maybe she shot Amanda so she could have you for herself.”

Jim did his best not to flinch. Even though the notion of Trixie murdering Amanda was ludicrous, he was afraid his feelings for “his friend” might be written on his face.

Sensing he had struck a nerve, Bennie narrowed his eyes as he studied Jim’s body language and facial expression. “Maybe you came to that same conclusion when you saw Amanda’s body, and that’s why you yelled her name.”

“Except for all the ‘maybe’s,’ that sounds pretty good,” Jim remarked. “Unfortunately, none of those ‘maybe’s’ pan out.”

Bennie waved for Jim to continue. “Then how about you explain it to me? Why did you yell Trixie’s name?”

“To be honest with you, it’s all a blur to me,” Jim admitted. He subconsciously touched the bandages on his head. “I don’t even remember yelling Trixie’s name. However, if what you say is true, and I did call for her, I’m 100% certain that it wasn’t because I suspected Trixie. She wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

“Then why did you do it?” Bennie prompted.

Jim threw his hands up in the air in a helpless gesture. “I don’t know! I was in shock, and even if I had a good reason, after my accident, I don’t remember what it was.”

Bennie’s smile was smug. For the first time during this interview, he had Jim exactly where he wanted him. “What’s your best guess? Give me a reason, Jim.”

“I don’t know,” Jim muttered. “I’m guessing it was the hair.”

“The hair?” Bennie repeated.

“Trixie has curly blonde hair, but Amanda’s was straight,” Jim explained. “When I saw the body lying there, the first thing I saw was her hair, and it was curly. Trixie has a dangerous job, so I assumed it was her.”

Bennie’s smarmy smile faded. He had a few explanations for Jim’s actions, but none of them matched the one Jim provided. To be honest, he was thrown for a loop. “But why would you assume it was Trixie? Why would she be your initial concern?”

“I don’t know,” Jim admitted. “To be fair, why would I assume it was Amanda? Why would I assume it was anyone I know, for that matter?”

“That is a good question,” Charlie murmured thoughtfully. He made a mental note to ponder it more when he was alone. He had a feeling that the answer would provide a vital clue to this case.

“Speaking of questions, I’ve got another one for you, Jim,” Bennie said. “Why did you show up at the crime scene out of the blue? And don’t tell me that you just happened to be in the neighborhood, because I don’t buy it for a second.”

Jim took a deep breath as he tried to collect his foggy thoughts. “Someone called me and told me to go to that address.”

Charlie snapped to attention. “Who was it?”

“I don’t know,” Jim answered. “Whoever it was blocked their number and used an electronic device to disguise their voice.”

Blown away by that bombshell, the two detectives exchanged a look of disbelief.

“Do you mean to tell me that someone called you and directed you to the scene of the murder?” Charlie gasped. “For the love of all things holy, there’s a good chance that was our killer! Why didn’t you tell us this sooner?”

“I tried to tell you someone has been stalking me in the beginning of the interview, but you didn’t seem to believe me,” Jim replied hotly.

“You could’ve mentioned the call,” Bennie maintained.

“I never even thought of it until you asked why I came to the crime scene,” Jim insisted, the frustration evident on his face. “I wish I would’ve brought it up before, but everything is still so fuzzy…”

Bennie shook his head. “It doesn’t make sense that you’d receive some random call from your supposed stalker, sending you to the place where your fiancée was murdered. It makes even less sense that this stalker would shoot Amanda in the first place. How did he know you were engaged?”

“She!” Jim corrected angrily. “My investigators think it’s a she, not a he!”

Humoring him, Bennie rephrased the question. “All right, so how would she know you were engaged to Amanda?”

“The press knew Amanda and I were engaged; the Woodwards loved the publicity,” Jim explained wearily. “In fact, some bridal magazine recently published an article about the wedding.”

“But if this so-called stalker of yours really killed Amanda, why would she call you about it?” Bennie pressured.

“I don’t know, but if you find out who it is, we’ll ask why,” Jim retorted. “Like you said before, people are crazy. You would have to be a nut to walk up to an innocent woman and shoot her, so it’s not any less crazy for this psycho to taunt me. Maybe she wanted to scare me, or maybe she wanted to rub it in. I don’t know!”

Charlie nodded; the explanation made sense to him. “We’ll see if we can trace that call. The chances something pans out aren’t good, but at least it’s something.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” Bennie reluctantly agreed.

The door opened suddenly, and a seasoned nurse of about sixty entered the room, dragging a blood pressure machine behind her. “Good evening, gentlemen,” she greeted cheerfully, looking right at Jim. “My name is Dorothy, and I’ll be your nurse tonight. How is our patient?”

Jim’s smile was weak. He hated being referred to in the third-person. However, if Dorothy could provide respite from the Sleepyside Inquisition, she could refer to him any way she wished. “He’s hanging in there.”

“Good!” Years of experience had enabled Dorothy to appraise her patients’ wellbeing with a visual inspection. Now, as she took in Jim’s ashen complexion, dull eyes, and strained expression, she concluded his visitors had outworn their welcome. “Are you experiencing any pain or discomfort? I looked at your chart earlier, and it’s been a while since you had anything for it. Is your head hurting now?”

“A little,” Jim admitted. The truth was, his head felt like a kettledrum in the middle of a performance of Concerto for Timpani and Orchestra. However, he wasn’t convinced that it was because of his injury; his present company might be a factor.

“I’ll get you something after I check your vitals,” she told him.

“Thank you,” Jim murmured. Feeling the eyes of the detectives bore through him like a drill, he shifted around in his bed.

Picking up on his discomfort, Dorothy sensed Jim needed rest more than visitors at this time. “I hate to be rude, but I need to shoo you fellas away,” she told the detectives, her smile sweetening her words. “Our patient needs his rest, and his health must come first.”

The detectives gruffly nodded their assent. Charlie reached in his pocket and pulled out a card, which he laid on Jim’s table tray. “Call us if you remember anything else.”

“Of course,” Jim agreed. “Likewise, please me keep me in the loop. Once the doctor releases me tomorrow, I’ll be in Sleepyside if you have any more questions for me.”

“Make sure that you are.” Bennie’s words were more of a threat than a request.

“Also, I’d be willing to offer a considerable reward for any information that would help you solve the case,” Jim said.

“We’ll keep that in mind,” Charlie replied, turning to follow Bennie out of the room. Before he left, he asked one last question. “One more thing, Jim. Who was the man talking to your father outside your room? He was a big, rough-looking man, if that helps.”

Telling himself that Charlie wasn’t necessarily asking about Al, Jim shrugged his shoulders. “I’m not sure. You’ll have to ask Dad.”

“I’ll be sure and do that,” Charlie promised as he made his exit.

Jim stared unseeingly at the wall facing him. He replayed his conversation with the detectives over in his mind, wondering if he had done the right thing by granting the Woodwards’ request. He had tried to answer their questions as honestly as possible while abiding by the Woodwards’ wishes. He had told them about his stalker, at least.

It’s just a shame that the cops are too busy focusing on me to concentrate on realistic suspects, he thought bitterly.

“Jim, are you all right?”

Startled from his thoughts, Jim acknowledged Dorothy with the best smile he could muster. “I’m fine. I’ve just got a lot on my mind, that’s all.”

The kindly nurse patted his shoulder as she wrapped the blood pressure cuff around his generous bicep. All the hospital was abuzz with the news of Amanda’s murder and Jim’s accident. She had read all about the couple on “Page Six” of the Post. Some of the other nurses wondered if the handsome redhead had played a part in his fiancée’s death, but Dorothy didn’t think so, even if she was in the minority. She thought it was a shame that those awful detectives had come to pester Jim while he was recovering in the hospital, so when Jim’s father had asked if she could get rid of them, she was happy to oblige.

“There, there,” she soothed. “I know things are rough now, but the good Lord has a purpose for everything. No matter how bleak things look now, this too shall pass.”

“I hope so,” Jim murmured. He just prayed Dorothy was as good at prognosticating the future as she was at nursing.

It wasn’t hard for Charlie and Bennie to track down the Wheelers. They were seated in a remote corner of the waiting room, their backs turned to anyone who might pass by. It was obvious they didn’t want to be disturbed. Unfortunately for them, the NYPD didn’t care.

Charlie walked right over to the couple and handed Matthew one of his cards. “We’ll likely be in touch again, but here’s my contact info if you need to speak with us in the meantime.”

Matthew stuck the card in the interior pocket of his suit jacket without even looking at it. “We would appreciate it if you kept us informed during your investigation.”

“We’ll see what we can do,” was Bennie’s noncommittal response.

“Let us know if we can assist you in any way during your investigation,” Matthew said.

That was just the sort of opening for which Charlie had been waiting. “Well, now that you mention it, I was curious who you were talking to here in the hallway when my partner and I first got here.”

Matthew shook his head in confusion. “You’ll have to be a little more specific. I’ve spoken with several people here at the hospital.”

“It was a big, bearded guy,” Bennie told him. “To be honest, he looked kind of rough. He wasn’t the type of character I’d expect to see a man of your reputation hanging around with.”

“Oh, you’re talking about Al.” Matthew chuckled. “He’s not nearly as scary as he looks.”

“That’s funny, because he looks like a criminal to me,” Bennie remarked.

“He may look like a criminal, but he’s a good guy,” Matthew said sharply. “Besides, not every bad guy wears black leather. I’ve known quite a few that wear a different William Fioravanti suit every day of the week.”

Bennie snarled his nose. “I don’t even know who William what’s-his-name is, but I do know a crook when I see one. Your buddy spent time in the pen. Those prison tats gave him away.”

“Yeah, Al has served time, but he’s a changed man,” Matthew explained. His sandy brows met to form a quizzical expression. “Why are you asking about Al to begin with?”

“He just looked like an interesting character,” Charlie replied with a shrug. “How do you know him?”

Sensing the detectives were on a witch hunt, Matthew kept his answers as nondescript as possible. “He works for my son.”

“Doing what?” Bennie inquired. “Or would you rather plead the fifth on that?”

“Al does odds and ends around the school,” Matthew hedged.

Charlie drew back in surprise. “With all his money, I’m surprised Jim couldn’t find better help.”

“I’m not sure what that means,” Matthew said, his internal thermometer rising rapidly.

“Oh, I think you do,” Charlie responded.

Matthew’s mouth resembled a thin, angry slash. “I’m always surprised when people call me pretentious. I might have more money in my pocket than you’ll make all month, but at least I know a man’s character isn’t determined by the clothes on his back.”

Although she had not spoken throughout the exchange, Madeleine’s subtle caress adequately made her point. Matthew needed to be more careful. Swallowing back the other nasty remarks he wanted to make, he forced his lips into a smile.

“My son’s mission in life has been to help them that are less fortunate,” he continued. “If you knew Jim’s background, you’d understand why, but frankly, that’s none of your business. He met Al and offered him a job to help him get back on his feet, and Al’s never given Jim a reason to distrust him. He’d do anything for my son. Anything!”

“Well, that is interesting,” Bennie murmured, scratching his chin in a thoughtful gesture.

“Yes, it is,” Charlie agreed. “And what did you say Al’s last name was? I’m afraid I didn’t catch it.”

Matthew didn’t want to answer their question, but he did. “Spurgeon. Make sure you spell it right when you enter it into your database.”

“We will, and thanks for the tip,” Bennie said with a smirk. “Now if you’ll excuse us, we have a murderer to catch.”

“More like a suspect to frame,” Matthew muttered under his breath as the two detectives walked away.

“Matthew!” his wife hissed. “They’ll hear you!”

He rolled his eyes. “So what if they do? Maybe if someone called them on their shoddy detective work, they’d do a better job.”

“Still, you shouldn’t say such things. You’ll only make matters worse.”

Numb with worry, Matthew sunk back into his chair. A feeling of impending doom nearly overwhelmed him. He reached over and clasped Madeleine’s hand tightly; if his instincts were right, he needed to prepare her for what was ahead.

“I have a feeling that this is only the tip of the iceberg,” he whispered. “And no matter what I say or don’t say, we’re heading right for it, full steam ahead. There’s no going back now, darling, so you’d better strap on your lifejacket. It’s going to get a whole lot worse before it gets any better.”

Deep down, Madeleine knew he was exactly right. Ignoring the icy talons of fear griping her soul, she straightened her spine and strengthened her resolve. Jim was her son, and she loved him with all her heart. No matter what course lay ahead, she was ready to face Hell itself for him.

“Bring it on,” she said, her voice steady and strong.

The homicide detectives stepped onto the empty elevator. Now that they were alone, they could discuss the case freely. Bennie pushed the button which would take them to the ground level and then turned to his partner. “So…how do you think that went?”

“Okay, I guess. How about you?”

“It went about like I expected it would,” Bennie answered. “Frayne shed a few crocodile tears, made himself out to be a choir boy, and didn’t own up to pulling the trigger. No big surprise there.”

Charlie nodded thoughtfully. “I’m not so sure those were tears were fake. I can usually sniff out a phony, and Jim Frayne seemed genuinely upset.”

“Maybe he’s just a good actor.”

“No, that isn’t it,” Charlie disagreed. “There were a few times during the interview when I could tell he wasn’t being completely honest with us. Like when we asked him about yelling Trixie’s name. Something about his answer didn’t ring true.”

“I agree that there’s definitely more to that story. I got the feeling that he would’ve been more upset if it had been Trixie.”

“Yeah,” Charlie muttered. “I wouldn’t be surprised if there was something going on between those two. Did you see the look on his face when he talked about her?”

Bennie’s smirk was cocky. “Yeah, he sure didn’t look that way when he talked about his dearly departed fiancée. I know he said he wasn’t fooling around, but if he was having an affair with that Trixie, that’d be his motive to whack Amanda.”

“But why kill her?” Charlie questioned. “They weren’t married yet, so it wasn’t like he’d get taken to the cleaners in divorce court. He could’ve just broken up with her.”

“I think old man Woodward donates a hefty chunk of change to that school of his. I doubt he’d keep writing out those big checks if Frayne dumped his little girl.”

Charlie shook his head. “Matt Wheeler is worth a heckuva lot more than the Woodwards, and that doesn’t even include how much dough his wife’s family has. The Harts make the Rockefellers look like paupers. So, even if Woodward cut off Frayne’s funding, the Wheelers could easily cover the slack, and there goes your motive.”

“Well, maybe Frayne’s one of those rich kids that gets off on weird stuff,” Bennie suggested. “Maybe he’s into kinky crap, and he got a thrill out of shooting her.”

“Sorry, but I don’t buy it,” Charlie scoffed. “I might be more willing to consider it if she’d been strangled in their bedroom, but why would he blow her brains out as she walked down the street? What kind of a thrill does he get out of that?”

“Hey, we don’t have any idea what makes him tick. He could be a real head case, for all we know.”

Charlie still didn’t look convinced. “Yeah, but if he had some kind of a violence fetish, you’d think he’d have a record.”

“With all the money Wheeler has, he could make sure his boy’s record was clean.”

“True, but word would’ve gotten out. You can’t keep stuff like that quiet. Like crap in a stopped-up toilet, filthy secrets have a way of leaking out.”

“You sure have a way with words, Charlie,” Bennie said with a grin.

“Yeah, I’m a freakin’ poet,” Charlie cracked. “Seriously though, my gut’s telling me that Frayne didn’t do it. Don’t get me wrong. He’s hiding something, but I don’t think he pulled the trigger.”

“Then who did?”

“I’m not sure yet,” Charlie admitted with a shrug. “However, I thought it was interesting that Frayne brought up Woodward’s possible mob ties. That rumor has been around for years, but nobody’s ever been able to prove it. If he is in deep with the mafia, he’s been slick enough to keep it hidden and maintain his somewhat reputable image.”

“From what I’ve read about Carlton Woodward, he’s ruthless enough to be in the mob. Talk about cutthroat.”

“Yeah, and eventually, if you cut the wrong throat in the family, you find yourself sleeping with the fishes.”

“Or with your brains splattered all over the street,” Bennie commented.

“Amanda was shot in the back of the head. Whoever pulled the trigger knew it was a guaranteed kill, and a lot of old-school hit men out there still prefer getting it done execution style since it’s quick and easy.”

“I don’t know, Charlie. Wives and daughters are usually off-limits, so if it was a hit, then Woodward must’ve really ticked off someone high up in the family. But why would they ice Amanda? Why wouldn’t they just take out her dad?”

“That’s a good question,” Charlie murmured.

The elevator doors opened, and the detectives walked through the parking garage to their unmarked vehicle. They waited until they were in the car to continue their conversation.

“I’ve got another good question for you,” Charlie said as Bennie pulled out of the garage. “Who’s that Al Spurgeon guy?”

“Yeah, and what exactly does he do for Jim Frayne? If he’s as loyal to his boss as Wheeler says, Al might be willing to get rid of a problem for him.”

“Or he might take it on himself to get rid of the problem.”

“He might,” Bennie acknowledged. “I know one thing, though. That whole stalker thing seemed a bit too convenient, if you ask me.”

“Yeah, it did seem a little fishy. Even if some crazy dame is writing him letters, it probably doesn’t mean anything. A rich, good-lookin’ bachelor like Frayne probably has lots of admirers out there. Some lonely nutcase out there probably saw his picture in the paper and decided he was her soul mate. It happens all the time.”

Bennie nodded. “And who knows? If Frayne does have a stalker, and if she is the killer, chances are good that it’s someone he knows.”

Charlie acknowledged that possibility with a nod. “Yeah, and it’s probably someone he’s close to.”

“Something tells me this isn’t going to be an easy one to solve,” Bennie remarked. “Which angle do you want to check out next— the mob, Spurgeon, or the stalker?”

“Let Frayne’s PI’s worry about the stalker,” Charlie snorted. “We don’t have time for that crap right now.”

“I agree. Chances are good we’ll find the culprit without wasting our time, sifting through a bunch of dumb letters, so we’ll leave that for the amateurs. Does this mean you want to move on to the mafia connection?”

Charlie scratched his chin. “I know a guy in the F.B.I. that works for their organized crime unit. If there was a hit ordered on Woodward’s kid, he’ll hear something about it, even if it’s just a rumor. Let’s put the mob theory on hold for now.”

“So, you want to talk to that Spurgeon character?”

“Not yet. He could be involved, but my gut’s telling me the shooter was a woman. Frayne seems positive that he’s got a secret admirer out there, so something has given him that idea.”

“Do you have any particular females in mind?”

Charlie clenched his fists so tightly that his knuckles turned white; it was something he did when he was preoccupied with a theory. “I do. There’s one thing— or rather, one person— that keeps coming up in this investigation, and that’s Trixie Belden. I’d bet my last dollar that she’s tied up in this somehow.”

“Well, I’m sure not going to bet against you. I knew as soon as we talked to her at the crime scene that she was involved.”

“Speaking of the crime scene, I’m still curious why she was there and how she got there so fast. I know she insinuated that she’d come with Dan, but I can’t help but wonder if she’d already been in the neighborhood.”

“If that was the case, I wonder what she was doing there,” Bennie said. “I’ve got a feeling it wasn’t window shopping. Maybe she was enjoying a little target practice.”

Charlie nodded. “One eyewitness did see a woman near the crime scene that fit her description, so it makes you wonder.”

“Yeah, and she did seem awfully concerned about Frayne. I’d like for her to explain the nature of their relationship. I know he says they’re only friends, but she may not feel that way. She may have wanted more.”

“And since the wedding coming up, she knew time was running out before Frayne was off the market.”

“You know, the more I think about it, it may not have been a coincidence that Amanda was murdered at the wedding planner’s,” Bennie commented. “The killer could’ve been making a statement.”

“Good thinking. You might be on to something.”

A smug smile slipped across Bennie’s lips. “Well, I’ve met a lot of devious sluts through the years, and I learned a long time ago that there isn’t anybody scarier than a scorned woman. They’ll do just about anything to get their man.”

“Maybe even put a bullet hole through the competition,” Charlie muttered.

“Yeah, maybe.”

“I definitely think it’s time we paid Trixie Belden a visit. We’ve got a lot to talk about.”

“Sounds good to me,” Bennie agreed with a grin. “I’ve always wanted to go to Sleepyside, and I’m sure Detective Belden will be thrilled to see us.”

Charlie merely grunted his approval. Like a bloodhound on the scent of a fox, his gaze became fixed on the trail. He didn’t plan on giving up until he’d gathered enough evidence to prove his theory correct. The more he thought about it, the more sense it made that Trixie had been involved in this crime. Now, he just had to prove it.

At any cost.

This story was posted in honor of the 12^th annual Jixanny Celebration! Happy Birthday, Jix! Thank you to CathyP for starting our beloved home away from home, and thanks also to the administrators and moderators that keep things running smoothly.

Thank you so much to Ryl, who graciously edited this for me.

Al’s lexicon:

Typewriter party- a killing by multiple machine guns

Daisy- an effeminate man

Apple- a simple man that would make a good mark for a con

Candy brain- a drug dealer that uses his product a little too much

Duck soup- easy

Empty-suit- someone with nothing to offer that wants to hang around with mobsters to look tough

Headcrusher- an enforcer for the mob

Left-handed wife- a mistress to a man in the mob

Nance- an effeminate man

Administration- high-ups in the mafia

Fanook- an effeminate man

Break an egg- commit murder

Dizzy for- in love with

Moll- girlfriend

Hittin’ on all eight- working properly

Don- the head of the family; a term of respect

Button Man- the enforcer

Cherry-tops- the police (because of the red sirens on top, natch!)

Babbo- an idiot

Know from nothin’- don’t know

Barbeque stool- the electric chair

Moll dick- girlfriend detective (as if you didn’t know this!)

Ices- murders

Hot plate- electric chair

Chumbolone- an idiot (this is one of my faves)

Gimme the buzz- call me

Behind the eight ball- in trouble

Bo- friend; buddy

Wiseguys- common name for the mob

Hammer an’ saws- the police

Mustache Petes- old world name for high-ups in the mob

Meat eaters- dirty cops

Goomba- a term of respect

Sneak- leave

Elephant ears- the police

Dust out- leave

As I’ve said before, Al’s character is fashioned after an evangelist friend of ours, who spent many years in one of the worst motorcycle gangs in the world before being saved. Al is written with much love and respect.

I love the interaction between Al and Madeleine. I have a story planned (“I Feel Pretty”) that forces Al to spend the day with a whole bunch of tomatoes. I look forward to writing it someday.

Detectives Charlie Weirton and Bennie Rodriguez may be officers for the NYPD, but I wouldn’t necessarily call them a part of New York’s finest. They were first introduced in “The Tangled Web” and are characters of my own devious creation. They aren’t “meat eaters” (as Al worried), but they do have their faults. Both of these characters were fashioned after two men that I am not particularly fond of.

I’ve used this story to help flesh out the character of Amanda Woodward. Although she clearly wasn’t the girl of Jim’s dreams, she must’ve had some positive attributes that caused him to be drawn to her. I hope I’ve been able to show some of her finer qualities in this chapter.

If you think it’s ridiculous that these detectives wouldn’t be concerned about the letter in the school, think again. I learned from firsthand experience that unless an obvious crime has been committed, the police tend to brush it off. I can easily see these particular cops doing just that.

Unfortunately, stalking is a difficult crime to prove and stop. Quite frequently, the victim has to build a case of evidence before the authorities take him or her seriously, and it’s not uncommon for the situation to become violent before the police get involved. I’ve researched several cases where the police’s hands are tied, even when they believed the victim and wanted to help. In Jim’s case, it’s even worse because the two cops he’s dealing with don’t believe him.

I’ve read about several instances where the police have a distrust or lack of respect for private investigators. Bennie Rodriguez is obviously one of those cops.

Let the record show, Jim answered each one of the detectives’ questions honestly. He didn’t lie. What he did wasn’t wise, but he managed to avoid lying and still abided by the Woodwards’ wishes.

All roads lead back to Jonesy. He helped shape Jim into the man he is. I liked the idea of Jim learning from his abuse and using it to better himself. He’s a survivor, and that’s exactly what survivors do.

I’m afraid it is true; Jim has been duped by the Woodwards. Amanda was indeed planning to double-cross him, because that’s just the kind of boat hitch she is. What they don’t know is, Amanda isn’t the only traitor out there…

Sadly, the statistics I quoted to you about women being murdered are very true.

Nurse Dorothy was modeled after a kindly woman in our neighborhood that took care of my mother when she was ill. Dorothy was a lovely lady, and sadly she passed away a few years ago.

The Sleepyside Inquisition is, of course, a reference to the Spanish Inquisition.

Concerto for Timpani and Orchestra is a famous piece of music which prominently features timpani, or kettledrums, as they are also known.

I did a lot of research on expensive men’s suits, and that William Fioravanti made some of the most expensive. Damon obviously doesn’t own any.