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Part Two
In part
one, Jim’s stalker paid a visit
to the Manor House and left another note and gift in Jim’s Suburban. Sensing
Trixie is in danger, Jim tries to contact her but can’t reach her on her cell
phone. This story is a submission for the Special
Edition Anniversary #10 CWP, celebrating ten
wonderful years of Jixemitri. All elements in this CWP have been written in
red font so you can’t miss them. Be sure to look for the elements throughout
the rest of this story. 7:10 A.M. 103 5thAvenue 2nd
FI The street outside Wedding Atelier was still deserted for
the most part. The exclusive bridal shop didn’t open until 10 A.M., and most
of the surrounding boutiques and restaurants kept similar hours. From her spot
on the park bench almost a block away, Jim’s stalker could see up and down
the entire street. There weren’t many pedestrians wandering around Fifth
Avenue at this time of day, so everything was working according to her plan. She knew that a person needed serious connections to get
such an early appointment with one of the wedding planners here. Of course,
anyone marrying a Wheeler would have such connections. The posh neighborhood
actually worked to her advantage. Any other street in New York City would be
bustling with activity even at this early hour; however, the rich and
pampered weren’t quite so eager to brave the blustering cold and blowing
snow. Fifth Avenue was a virtual ghost town.
Jim’s fiancée—she couldn’t even say her name without
going into a rage— would be coming out any minute. She’d be ready for that
little slut. How dare anyone come between her and Jim! Jim belonged to her and
her alone, and all the other whores interested in him needed to back off. She
intended for this to be a lesson to the rest of the tramps out there. Mess
with her man and they would get what’s coming to them! On the verge of a complete meltdown, she took several
deep breaths in and out. She couldn’t lose control yet; she still had
important work to do. It was times like these that made her wonder if she
should be taking her medication. The Lithium helped calm her fits of rage,
but she hated how foggy it made her feel. After taking her prescription, she
felt as if she were sleepwalking through life. On the other hand, when she
didn’t take her meds, she felt like she could fly. She never wanted this
state of euphoria to end. That’s why she’d begun flushing her pills down the
toilet. She was like a spider that had just woven a perfect web.
Intricate and beautiful, her silken orb would allow her to catch the fly that
had been buzzing around Jim. Once that filthy pest was caught in her tangled
web, there would be no mercy. Just like the deadly black widow, this spider
planned to devour her prey. And then she would have Jim all to herself again. She looked at her watch. She wouldn’t have to wait much
longer until she could liberate Jim. He would be so grateful and undoubtedly
would love her even more than he already did. A slight movement in the doorway of the wedding
coordinator’s shop commanded her full attention. Seconds later, a blonde woman
clad in a tan Burberry emerged. Her prey stood under the awning, adjusting
her blue scarf so it offered more protection from the cold. As she put on her
gloves, she studied her surroundings, looking one way and then the other. The
fly must’ve liked what she saw—or perhaps didn’t see— because she ventured
out onto the snowy sidewalk. Unaware that she was being hunted, she
unwittingly headed straight towards her predator. The little fly had no reason to suspect she was in
danger. She never even noticed the spider sitting on a nearby bench. Jim’s
stalker smiled from behind her newspaper; nobody would suspect her of being a
poisonous creature. Her quarry walked right past her, never looking back
once. “Step into my parlor, said the spider to the fly,” she whispered,
her velvety smooth voice getting lost in the wind. It didn’t take long for the spider to catch up to her
mark. The fluffy snow muffled the sound of footsteps, and the biting cold
kept her prey from turning around to look in windows. She was now close
enough to step on the fly’s heels. In one graceful movement, the spider
pulled a .9 mm from the deep pocket of her coat, carefully took aim, and
pulled the trigger. Her only regret was that the silencer kept the shot from
echoing for all to hear. Her prey instantly fell forward. If the bullet in her
brain hadn’t killed her, smacking her head against the concrete would have.
Smiling at the gore she saw seeping out of the back of the fly’s head, the
spider flipped her victim over onto her back, so she could look her former
competitor in the eye. The fly was already dead, but the spider hoped she
could still see her. She watched as the lifeless body sank into the snow.
There was one thing left to do. Reaching into her other pocket, she pulled
something out, knelt down, and placed it into her mark’s hand. She wrapped
the still-pliant fingers around the token she’d left behind, hiding it from
view. As an afterthought, she grabbed the fly’s purse; she would enjoy having
it as a trophy. Before she made her getaway, she took a moment to give
Jim’s fiancée a final look. To her surprise, the blood flowing from the wound
had formed a red pattern in the snow that resembled a bridal veil. How deliciously ironic! 7:45 A.M. Manor House Although the school day would begin soon at Ten Acres Academy, Jim
hadn’t even pulled out of the Manor House driveway. Honey had gotten there
thirty minutes ago. She’d properly bagged the note and the cake topper and
just finished a sweep of the area. To the naked eye, the mysterious visitor hadn’t left behind any forensic evidence. If Honey found that
discouraging, she didn’t let Jim know. “I’m sure Jack can dig up
something about this,” she said brightly. “It would be a big help if he could
find out what store sold that cake topper.” At the end of his rope,
Jim was inconsolable. “There were probably tens of thousands of those toppers
sold. Talk about finding a needle in a haystack!” “You’d be surprised the
information we can glean—” “Right now, I could care
less about that stupid topper!” he interjected. “Why hasn’t Trixie called me
yet? Doesn’t she know that I’m worried sick about her?” “Jim, you know how Trixie
forgets to turn on her phone,” Honey pointed out gently. Jim clutched a fistful of
red hair. “Yeah, but considering the circumstances, you’d think she’d
remember!” “Calm down, Jim” she
soothed. “You said yourself that Amanda would never hurt Trixie. It’s going
to be okay.” “Then why hasn’t Trixie
called me?” “It’s been really busy
the past couple of days, and I’m sure she has a lot on her—” Jim’s phone rang before
Honey could continue her defense of Trixie. He flipped the cell open so
quickly that it almost went flying across the yard. “Hello?”
His hopeful expression immediately turned one of fear as he hit the
speakerphone option. “Can you repeat that?” “Go to 103 Fifth Avenue,”
the caller said. Although the voice sounded female, it had been distorted so
badly that it was unrecognizable. “You can thank me later, Jim.” “Who is this?” Jim
demanded. “You know who I am, Jim.
I’m the person who loves you the most.” “Amanda, why are you
doing—?” Before he could finish the question, he heard a click on the other
line. He snapped his phone shut, his eyes wild. “I’ve got to go.” Al held up a hand in
protest. “Whoa, boss. Let me get this straight. You get a call from that nut
job dame that’s been stalkin’ you, tellin’ you to go to such-and-such
address, an’ you’re actually gonna go there?” “I don’t have a choice!”
Jim blustered. “Trixie could be in trouble!” Honey shook her head. “Jim,
I don’t know about this.” His chin jutting out
stubbornly, Jim dismissed her protest. “I’m going.” Honey’s eyes were wide
with fear as she clutched her brother’s arm. “Jim, you haven’t thought this
through—” “I’m going.” Jim’s voice
was as cold as the Arctic wind currently blowing through Sleepyside. “You aren’t going alone,
are you?” Honey asked. “No, he sure ain’t,” Al
answered for him. “Mr. Jim ain’t goin’ nowhere without me, an’ that’s all
there is to it.” “Well, if you’re going,
then you’d better get in fast,” Jim said, walking brusquely towards the
Suburban. “Estimated time of departure is thirty seconds or less.” “Jim, this isn’t safe,”
Honey began. “Could you at least…” Knowing Jim couldn’t hear her now that he
was in his vehicle, she stopped talking. She waited until he spun out of the
driveway and then found her own cell phone.
She hastily punched in a familiar number. She breathed a sigh of
relief when someone on the other line picked up. “Hello?” “Dan? Are you busy?” “Not too busy for a
friend,” he answered. “What’s wrong, Honey?” Honey sighed, and then
launched into a short explanation. “Jim’s in trouble, Dan. I don’t have a lot
of time to explain, but someone has been stalking him the past couple of
months.” “Stalking? What do you
mean by that?” “So far, it’s just been
threatening letters and creepy gifts, but I’m afraid it just escalated.” “What happened, Honey?”
Dan demanded. “Jim found another letter this morning, and he just got a
call telling him to go to 103 Fifth Avenue.” “Whoa, hold on a minute.
How threatening have these letters been? I need more details—” “I don’t have time to
explain everything to you right now,” Honey hedged. “Just trust me when I
tell you that Jim needs your help.” “Honey, you’re scaring
me. Can’t you tell me—?” “Dan, I want to tell you
everything, but Jim has sworn me to secrecy. Besides, we might not have a lot
of time. Can you please just go to that address and make sure that he’s okay?
We’ll sit down and explain everything to you later.” “I don’t—” “Please, Dan?” Honey’s
voice had taken on a desperate quality. “It could be a matter of life and
death.” “All right,” Dan
conceded. “Thank you so much!” “I’ll have to talk to
Spider and tell him that I have an important errand to run, but I’m in the
patrol car, so I should be able to make good time.” “Just keep me informed,
okay?” “I will.” As soon as the call
ended, Honey began worrying her lower lip. She knew Jim would be angry with
her for calling Dan, but she didn’t know what else to do. In her opinion, the
police should’ve been notified a long time ago. She hadn’t wanted to tell
Jim, but she had a bad feeling about the situation. Something told her that
this was one story that wouldn’t have a happy ending. 8:00 A.M. Fifth Avenue Restaurant & Diner 432 5th Avenue NYPD homicide detectives,
Charlie Weirton and Bennie Rodriguez, had just gotten the breakfasts they’d
ordered. Bennie nodded at
Charlie’s plate of sausage links, bacon, fried eggs, and hash browns. “What
would your wife say if she knew you’d just ordered the cholesterol special?” “She’d say that you
shouldn’t talk with your mouth full,” Charlie retorted. Bennie grinned and took
another bite of his blueberry pancakes. “I thought you hated the
diner’s pancakes?” “I do,” Bennie admitted
with a shrug. “Then why’d you order
them?” Charlie prompted. “I thought I’d give the
cook another chance to get ‘em right.” Charlie rolled his eyes.
“Why do we keep coming to this dump?” “Because it’s cheap,”
Bennie reminded him with a grin. He reached for a slice of bacon on his
partner’s plate, but his hand was quickly slapped away. “Hey, why’d you do
that?” “If you wanted bacon, you
should’ve ordered it.” “You’ve got another piece
there,” Bennie pointed out. “Yeah, and I’m gonna eat it, too.” “You sure don’t need it,”
Bennie remarked, glancing down at the older man’s expanding waistline. Charlie paused in his
chewing long enough to smirk up at Bennie’s receding hairline. “I’ll join
Weight Watchers just as soon as you sign up for the Hair Club for Men,
buddy.” “Good one,” Bennie
chuckled. He took a long swig from his mug. “Well, at least they’ve got good
coffee here.” “Yeah, I’m really gonna
miss it after I retire next year,” Charlie commented. Bennie snorted. “You and
me both know you’re never going to retire.” “Just watch me,” Charlie
challenged. “At this time next year, me and Marion are gonna be living in one
of those senior citizen condo complexes in Florida.” “Are you going to let me come
and visit?” “Only if you bring me
some of Nick’s Famous Coney Island Chili as a peace offering.” “Why do you want to eat
that crap?” Bennie demanded. “If you want some real chili, you’ll go to
Cincinnati. Those people know how
to make chili.” Charlie shook his head in
disbelief. “I’m sorry, but chili beans just don’t belong over spaghetti
noodles.” “But you can’t have chili without beans,” Bennie
argued. “You can if you’re gonna
pour it over noodles.” Charlie’s cell phone
buzzed, so the big chili debate had to be postponed for later. “Charlie
here,” he answered brusquely. He nodded as he listened to the voice on the
other line. “All right. We’ll be there in about fifteen or twenty minutes.”
With a labored sigh, he snapped his phone shut. “Somebody find another
stiff?” Bennie inquired. Charlie nodded. “Yeah,
somebody shot a woman in front of those swanky shops in the Flatiron
District. The captain wants us there last week.” “So, I guess that means
I’ll be getting my pancakes to go, huh?” Charlie shot him a
disparaging look. He picked up the bill that the waitress had laid on their
table and handed it to Bennie. “Don’t forget this.” “I paid it last time.
It’s your turn.” “You’re such a tightwad,”
Charlie muttered as he plunked down a twenty-dollar bill. 8:20 A.M. It took the homicide
detectives seventeen minutes to make the five-mile trip. The crime scene had
already been cordoned off, and a couple of patrolmen were there to make sure
curious onlookers didn’t cross the line. Charlie and Bennie ducked under the
yellow tape and strode over to the dead body, which was being studied by the
medical examiner. “Well, well, well,”
Bennie murmured appreciatively as his eyes leisurely traveled all over
Cynthia Graves’ petite form. “If it isn’t my favorite ME.” The attractive medical
examiner ignored the come-on she’d been expecting. Although he was married
and had two children, Bennie Rodriguez considered himself quite the ladies’
man. It was rumored that he’d had affairs with several of the new recruits,
but nothing had ever been proven. Regardless of Bennie’s supposed sexual
prowess, Cynthia had absolutely no interest in the cocky thirty-something. “Detectives,” Cynthia
greeted, her tone cordial but businesslike. “What’ve you got for us,
Cindy?” Charlie asked. Cynthia resisted the urge
to roll her eyes at Charlie Weirton’s patronizing manner. In spite of her vast
schooling and medical knowledge, he insisted on treating her like an
eighteen-year-old coed. No matter how many times she asked him not to call her Cindy, he did it
anyway. “Our vic took a bullet to
the base of her skull.” Cynthia gently lifted the young woman’s head, brushed
aside the blonde curls, and pointed out the entry wound. “It killed the poor
thing instantly.” Once her demonstration was complete, she carefully allowed
the head to rest on the sidewalk. “She fell headfirst onto the concrete, which
is what caused the lacerations on her forehead. However, someone turned her
over after she was shot. She bled out in the snow.” “Sounds like a professional
hit,” Charlie remarked. Bennie shook his head in
disagreement as he regarded the body. “Sorry, Charlie, but she doesn’t look
like the kind of girl a pro killer goes after. Does Blondie here have a name?” “Not my department,”
Cynthia muttered. She hated the detective’s derogatory tone, particularly
when their victims were female. Both he and Charlie were male chauvinist
pigs, and she detested working with them. “I didn’t see an ID, so you and
your partner will have to figure out who she is.” Bennie searched the dead
woman’s pockets for any sign of identification. Finding nothing, he looked around the crime scene. “Does
she have a purse or a briefcase or something?” “Doesn’t look like it,”
Charlie mumbled. He yelled over to one of the patrolmen. “Hey, Roger. Did you
guys find the vic’s purse?” “No, sir,” Roger
answered. “My bet is that this was
a robbery gone bad,” Charlie suggested. “She went ballistic when some druggie
held her up, and he shot her then stole her purse.” “If that’s true,” Bennie
began, “we’re dealing with a real idiot. What kind of thief leaves a rock
like that behind?” He pointed to the massive diamond on the stiff’s left ring
finger. Charlie whistled under
his breath. “Good point, Bennie. That’s a mighty big hunk of ice she’s got
there.” “Her purse might’ve been
stolen after she was killed,” Bennie proposed. “Some drug head happens on the
dead body, sees her purse lying there, and figures she won’t be needing it.” “Could be,” Charlie
agreed. Bennie narrowed his gaze
as he studied the dead woman. “You know, she looks familiar…” “If this is a story about
some stripper you’re banging, I don’t want to hear it,” Charlie grumbled. “Well, I wouldn’t have
minded banging this one while she was breathing, but that’s not what I
meant,” Bennie corrected. “Then what did you mean?” Charlie prompted. “I’ve seen this girl
before.” “You recognize her?” Bennie nodded. “Yeah, I
never forget a face, especially a pretty one.” “She won’t be so pretty
in a week or two,” Charlie muttered. “Are you sure you know her?” “Yeah, only she was dressed up when I met her.” “Could you’ve seen her at
the New Year’s bash?” Charlie suggested. Bennie shook his head.
“No, before that.” He snapped his fingers as he was struck by a thought. “Hey,
I got it. I know where I saw her. It was at one of the fundraisers we had to
raise money for the memorial fund. She was there with Danny Boy and his
friends early last summer.” “Danny Mangan?” Charlie
cocked an eyebrow as he mulled his partner’s words. “Where’s he been,
anyway?” “I heard he took a job at
the precinct in his hometown. He couldn’t cut it here in the city. But I’m
positive I saw this woman with him.” “Danny Boy’s got good
taste,” Charlie said. “I don’t think they were
together like that,” Bennie corrected. “She was just a part of that do-gooder
group from Danny’s hometown.” Charlie shook his head.
“If what you said is true and Dan really is friends with this girl, I’m glad
he’s not here to see this.” “I actually wish he was
here so he could ID her for us,” Bennie muttered. 8:40 A.M. Although it normally took
Jim a good hour to make the trip from Sleepyside to Manhattan, today, in
spite of the bad weather, he made it in less than forty-five minutes. He’d
noticed a police cruiser behind him several times during the trip, but
thankfully he hadn’t been pulled over. Fate must’ve been with him, because he
found a parking spot near his destination. He skillfully whipped the
full-sized SUV into the parking place like he was behind the wheel of a
Volkswagen Beetle. Farther up the block, he
could see a crowd gathered, and if he wasn’t mistaken, he thought he caught a
glimpse of caution tape. Several police cars as well as an ambulance were
parked nearby, and although their sirens weren’t blaring, their lights were
flashing a warning. Knowing something was wrong and fearing the worst, he
scrambled out of the Suburban, Al clipping at his heels. He’d barely gotten out of
the vehicle when he heard a familiar voice calling his name. And if he wasn’t
mistaken, the owner of that voice was Dan Mangan. “Jim! Wait up!” Jim looked back to see
Dan hopping out of an illegally parked Sleepyside police car. “What’re you
doing here?” “Honey called me and
asked me to follow you here,” Dan breathlessly explained once he’d caught up
to his friend. He immediately noticed an intimidating hulk of a man—clad in a
leather jacket and dirty jeans— standing by Jim, but now obviously wasn’t the
time for introductions. “What’s going on, Jim? Honey called me, and she’s
really worried. She said something about you being stalked.” Jim swore under his
breath. “Dan, it’s nothing that I can explain now.” Noticing the crime scene
up ahead, Dan grabbed onto Jim’s arm to restrain him. “Do you know what’s
going on up there?” “No, but I need to go
find out,” Jim growled. With the eyes of an
eagle, Dan appraised the situation. “Jim, I recognize some of my former colleagues
from Homicide, and judging by all the black-and-whites on the scene,
something big went down. Why are you here?” “Because Amanda told me
to come here!” Something in Jim’s
desperate tone frightened Dan enough so that he loosened his grip on the
redhead. Seeing his opportunity, Jim shrugged free and jogged towards the
crime scene. When he was a few yards away, a hand reached out and yanked him
to a stop. “Jim, they aren’t going
to let you over there,” Dan hissed. “Stay here while I go see what’s going
on.” His eyes shooting
daggers, Jim got in Dan’s face. “I’m going over there, and nobody had better
try to stop me.” “No, you aren’t. Jim, I’m
already ticked at you, so don’t make me do something we’ll both regret.” Dan’s
voice had taken on a gruff, stentorian edge. He intended to make it clear
that he wasn’t going to back down. Jim might be bigger and stronger than he
was, but after countless fights as a gang member, Dan knew how to even the
playing field. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed that the big biker
had started walking towards them, and he didn’t look happy that Jim was being
cornered. “I’m doing this for your own good,” Dan said, his tone
razor sharp. “I know the NYPD. If you go over there and try to push your
weight around, they’ll throw your butt in the slammer.” The muscle in his jaw
twitched as Jim contemplated Dan’s words. He stared down Dan for several
seconds until he finally conceded. “Okay, but don’t leave me hanging. I don’t
like to be kept in the dark.” “You and me both,” Dan
muttered. He made a mental note to find out what was going on with Jim, no
matter what sort of interrogation tactics it took. Thoroughly frustrated, he
flashed his badge to the patrolmen who were on crowd control, ducked under
the caution tape, and joined his former brothers on the force. “Speak of the devil,”
Bennie said as Dan approached. “We were just talking about you, Danny Boy.” Dan managed a friendly
grin, but it was tough. Of all the cops he’d worked with in his years with
the NYPD, Bennie Rodriguez was one of his least favorites. “Hope it was
good.” “Most of it was, anyway,”
Bennie joked. “What’re you doing here?” “It’s a long story,” Dan
hedged. He really didn’t want to admit that he had no idea why he was there. “Tell me anyway,” Bennie
prompted. “To make a long story short, a friend of mine heard
something was going on here, and I decided to check it out,” Dan explained. Bennie’s expression, usually arrogant and slightly
condescending, grew uncharacteristically somber. “Well, for whatever reason
you’re here, I’m glad you stopped by. We need your help.” Warning bells went off in Dan’s head. He and Bennie had
never been particularly chummy, and so something had to be up for Dan to rate
such a warm welcome. “What’s going on, Bennie?” “We were hoping you could ID a body for us,” Bennie said
as he shifted uncomfortably from one foot to another. Dan swallowed the lump that had suddenly risen in his
throat. Why was he so nervous all of a sudden? “Why would you need my help?” “We couldn’t find the vic’s wallet, so there wasn’t
anything to help with identification,” Bennie faltered. “And since I’m pretty
sure you know her—” “Know who?” Dan
interrupted, his tone desperate. He craned his neck in the direction of the
body, but Charlie and a few other officers were completely blocking it from
his line of vision. “Are you saying that I know the person that was murdered?” Bennie was quiet for several seconds but finally
answered, “Yeah, I think you do.” “Who is it, then?” Dan demanded. “Someone I worked with?
One of the girls I dated? For the love of God, who is it?” Bennie shook his head. “I’m pretty sure she’s one of your
friends from home, Danny,” he said quietly. A sob rose in Dan’s throat, but he choked it back. “No,
that can’t be right. I would’ve heard by now. You’re making a mistake—” “I hope you’re right, Danny.” Bennie clapped the former
NYPD detective on the shoulder. “There’s one way to find out for sure.” Dan nodded his assent. “Let me see her,” he murmured. Bennie motioned for Dan to follow him, and Dan obliged.
They walked through the group of policemen that were blocking the body. Dan
intentionally avoided looking at the victim until he’d had a chance to brace
himself. Someone had covered the corpse with a sheet, and Dan took a deep
breath before he asked them to pull it back. “Okay, I’m ready,” he mumbled. “Before we pull this back…” Bennie hesitated, and then
began again. “I need to warn you, Danny. She was shot in the back of the head
at point blank range, so the lower part of her face was pretty messed up.
There’s a whole lot of blood.” Dan couldn’t speak, so he just nodded. Everything seemed to move in slow-motion. It took a
million years for the sheet to be tugged back and the face to be revealed.
When it was, Dan was struck by the thought that nothing in his professional
career could’ve prepared him for this. No matter how many murders he
investigated, no matter how dead bodies he happened upon, no matter how many
of his gang member friends he’d watch die, nothing could’ve made this moment any easier. His knees buckled
from under him, and for a moment, he thought he was going to pass out. “You okay?” Bennie asked tenuously. Dan couldn’t answer. He was too busy taking in the
familiar features. Although the lower portion of the victim’s face had been
destroyed the exit of the bullet, the upper part was still recognizable. The
fair complexion, the flaxen curls, the eyes the color of the sky… His stomach
was churning so badly that he thought he was going to throw up. “Do you know her, Danny?” Eyes stinging with tears, Dan nodded his head again.
“It’s her,” he managed through a constricted throat. “It’s—” “Noooooo!” Dan and the NYPD officers looked back at Jim, who had
just broken through security. Two officers tried to restrain the redhead, but
Jim fought them tooth and nail to free himself. “The vic…” Dan choked through his tears. “It’s…It’s his
fiancée.” Bennie nodded at the two officers on either side of Jim,
and they immediately released their hold. Openly weeping, Jim stumbled closer
to the dead body. He stopped long before he reached the yellow tape, and the
policemen were there to make sure he didn’t overstep his bounds. “Oh, God,” he choked out as his eyes locked on the unseeing
eyes of the corpse. “No, no, no…” Dan left the immediate
crime scene and reached out a hand to stop his friend. “Jim, don’t—” “Let go of me!” Jim
lowered his voice an octave, and his words came out in a guttural growl. He
shook off Dan’s hand and staggered closer to the body. “This is my fault, my fault! It should’ve been me, not
her! Not her!” “You’re going to have to
stand back, sir,” Bennie ordered. “You’ll contaminate the—” “No, you don’t
understand!” Jim protested, his breathing fast and shallow. “I need to see
her! I need to tell her I’m sorry!” Charlie studied Jim closely and instantly
recognized the onset of emotional shock. While this type of shock wasn’t
deadly, it could still have consequences. “Sir, I think you need to sit
down—” Great sobs shook Jim’s
shoulders as he collapsed to his knees. “Oh, God, no! No! She can’t be dead!
She can’t! No, no noooo!” That was the last thing Jim would remember before being
mercifully overtaken by darkness. He passed out cold, smashing his head on
the concrete below. He would never recall yelling Trixie’s name as he lost
consciousness.
This chapter has been posted in honor of the tenth annual
JiXanny, celebrating ten years of Jixemitri. Haven’t joined yet? Well, what’s
stopping you? If you love the Bob-Whites, you’ll love Jix. Come check us out!
I promise that we aren’t ax murderers. *g* As stated in my author’s notes at the top of the page,
this story is a submission for the Special Edition Anniversary #10 CWP. Elements used thus far are: ·
Staying up all night- Jim’s
stalker had been up all night (part one) ·
Any book from the Trixie
Belden series- The Mysterious Visitor (in reference to the stalker) (part
two) ·
A retirement- Detective
Charlie Weirton’s upcoming retirement (part two) ·
Chili. With beans.- Charlie
and Bennie discuss their chili preferences (part two) Thank you to my wonderful editors, Steph H and Ryl. You
ladies are mahvelous, simply mahvelous! And thank you to the lovely Country
Girl, who has agreed to check my plot for any unsightly holes. She knows my
universes better than I do, and her help has already proven invaluable. Thank
you, my darling! Thank you to CathyP, for without her there would be no
Jix, and that would make for a very unhappy world. Thank you to my fellow
owners, who are taking very good care of Jix now that Cathy has retired.
Thank you to my fellow administrators and moderators, who work tirelessly
behind the scenes to keep Jix humming along. Thank you to all our terrific
authors, who write stories for no pay other than the thanks of readers. And
most of all, thank you to all of the members, who share my love of all things
Trixie. Wedding Atelier is an actual bridal planning shop, and
yes, it is located at the address I used. However, to my knowledge nobody was
murdered there. And yes, they do open at 10:00, but you can get a special
appointment. Lithium is prescribed to people with certain conditions.
More about that later, but just so you know, all the details I gave about it
are accurate. Detectives Charlie Weirton and Bennie Rodriguez are my
own creations, and I can do with them as I please. Just so you know, they
have been given those names for a reason, and I am enjoying a private chuckle
at their expense. The Fifth Avenue Restaurant and Diner is a real place,
and from the reviews I read, their pancakes are bad. And according to
MapQuest, it does take approximately 17 minutes to get from the diner to 103
Fifth Avenue. The phrase “Sorry, Charlie” has been used in a tuna
commercial. I couldn’t resist using it in the story. For the record, Dan didn’t leave the NYPD because “he
couldn’t cut it here in the city”. He left because of painful memories from
his past, and hey, I wanted him back in Sleepyside. When I began plotting this chapter, I had no idea that
Dan would get so mad. Mad Dan really made things difficult, and I hope he’ll
calm down soon. A very, very big thank you to Teresa and Pat K (as well
as their husbands), who patiently answered all my questions about guns and
whatnot. Um, gee, did you like where this chapter ended? I’ve been
planning this cliff hanger for a couple of years. It felt AWESOME to finally
get to do it for real!
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