Part Six

In the previous chapter, Brian and Honey visited Jim in the hospital. Back in Sleepyside, Trixie had a long conversation with Jack. She was surprised by Detectives Weirton and Rodriguez, who took her in for questioning.

This chapter has been posted in honor of my TENTH Jixaversary! To commemorate this event, I’ve shared the bloopers caught on film during the taping of this story. So, be sure and check out the link at the end of the epilogue!

Sleepyside Police Department

It took a lot to rile up local Police Chief Spider Webster. He was even-tempered and fair, two traits that made him an excellent head of law enforcement. In all matters of his personal and professional life, he tried to judge with equity. He avoided showing favoritism, a quality those under his command appreciated. Furthermore, he wasn’t one to rush to judgment; he preferred to reach his conclusions logically rather than to jump to them hastily.

Therefore, it was totally unlike Spider to dislike homicide detectives Charlie Weirton and Bennie Rodriguez the minute he met them. But he did. Something about them worried him.

Maybe it was their arrogant demeanor. The two detectives made their disdain for Spider obvious. Weirton and Rodriguez were with the renowned NYPD homicide unit, whereas Spider was merely the police chief of a rural, relatively unknown town. Their behavior implied they felt Spider wasn’t worthy of fetching their doughnuts.

Of course, the immediate dislike could’ve had another explanation. Weirton and Rodriguez had brought Trixie Belden into his police station and demanded they be allowed to interrogate her here. Spider had always been fond of the Bob-Whites, Trixie in particular. He didn’t want to allow Trixie to be questioned by those self-important jerks. It wasn’t that she shouldn’t be questioned. Spider’s logical nature forced him to admit that after reading that morning’s article in the Post, any detective performing his due diligence would put Trixie at the top of his suspect list.

Spider’s problem was that Detectives Weirton and Rodriguez appeared to be relishing the prospect of grilling Trixie, and Spider didn’t like that. As a responsible officer of the law, it worried him. The fact that the NYPD felt entitled enough to commandeer his interview room to do it only made matters worse.

These were the thoughts in Spider’s head as he considered the request. Should he comply with the request, or should he tell these cocky jerks that if they wanted to interview Trixie, they’d have to drive back to New York City and do it in their own station?

Spider crossed his arms and assumed a stance he hoped would appear intimidating. “Let me get this straight,” he said aloud. “The NYPD wants to conduct an interview here? In my interview room?”

Bennie’s expression could only be interpreted as scornful as he glanced around the Sleepyside Police Department. There were a few uniforms milling around but no civilians. No suspects being booked, no families being consoled, no lawyers coming to rescue their clients… Compared to the precinct Bennie worked for, the Sleepyside PD was a ghost town.

“Well, to be honest, Chief, it doesn’t look like you’re going to be using it anytime soon,” he snickered.

Charlie, a bit more diplomatic than his slightly younger partner, shot Bennie a warning glare before turning his attention to Spider. “What Bennie means is that it looks like you’ve got things under control here and won’t need your interrogation room at this time. If your situation changes, we’ll be sure to wrap things up on our end and get out of your way.”

Spider shot a look at Trixie. He’d known her since she was a teenager, and he’d never seen her this nervous. That was saying something since, as a teen, Trixie had found herself in quite a few dangerous predicaments. “Look, I understand why you need to talk to Trixie, but can’t you do it at her agency? It’s private there. Was it necessary to drag her down here?”

“Hey, how about you handle your business and leave the big stuff to us, Chief?” Bennie challenged with a sneer.

Spider bit back a nasty two-word suggestion on what Bennie could do to himself. He directed his question at Charlie. “Is there a particular reason this interview needs to take place in an interrogation room?” He glared at Bennie. “Or do you get off on harassing pretty girls?”

Charlie answered before Bennie could. “We’d like to record this interview. I assume you have that technology here.”

“Yes, as hard as it is to believe, we have video cameras and televisions here in Sleepyside,” Spider snapped.

“So, are you going to cooperate or not?” Bennie asked impatiently.

Spider maintained a poker face. “Can I sit in on the interview?”

“No, but you can watch,” Charlie offered.

Spider looked over at his unofficial second-in-command. “What do you think, Dan?”

Until now, Dan Mangan had remained silent. When Charlie and Bennie had brought Trixie in for questioning, his first instinct had been to withdraw his firearm and use the two detectives for target practice. In spite of her attempt to look composed, Dan could tell Trixie was scared. Instead of going Dirty Harry on the interlopers, Dan did the only thing he could do to truly help Trixie at that moment: He caught her gaze and never let it go. As only the best of friends can do, he silently communicated feelings of comfort, strength, and support to her.

Dan cleared his throat before speaking. “It makes sense to me. Traffic this time of day is still pretty bad, so it’ll take them well over an hour to get back to the city. It would save a lot of time to do the interview here, and when working on a murder investigation, time is crucial.”

“All right,” Spider finally agreed.

“Thanks,” Charlie told him. “Next time you need some help, maybe we can repay the favor.”

Spider ignored Charlie’s less than generous offer.

For the first time since arriving at the station, Trixie spoke. “Um, excuse me, but will there be a female officer present? I do believe that’s protocol.”

Charlie had to choke back a groan. He’d been hoping nobody would bring that up. He directed his question to Spider. “Does the Sleepyside PD have a female officer?”

“Not at this time,” Spider answered. “We’re trying to remedy that, but no women have applied for the position yet.”

“Then how do you interview female suspects?” Bennie demanded. “I thought you did everything by the book.”

“When a lady is interviewed, we usually call a female consultant to sit in since we don’t have any women on the force,” Spider explained.

“Well, what’re you waiting for?” Charlie motioned to the phone. “Give her a call, and get her over here.”

“She’s already here.” Lips twitching, Spider nodded at Trixie. “PI Belden is our consultant.”

Bennie rolled his eyes in an exaggerated fashion. “Oh, brother. What’re we supposed to do now?”

“If you put on a dress, wig, and a little makeup, I’d be willing to pretend you were a woman,” Trixie offered helpfully. “It shouldn’t be hard.”

Bennie glared at her.

“We might be able to call Ossining and ask them to send a female officer over,” Dan proposed. “Of course, it might take her an hour or two to get here…”

“Forget about it.” Trixie waved off that suggestion. “I’ll just take my chances back there with Beavis and Butthead. All I ask is one favor.”

“Which is?” Spider prompted.

“Turn off the camera if Bennie starts groping me because things might get ugly,” Trixie replied. “And give me at least ten minutes before you bust in so I can finish the job.”

The corners of Spider’s lips quivered from the effort of suppressing a smile. “I think I can manage that.”

“So we’re good to go?” Charlie asked.

Spider nodded his assent.

“Detective Rodriguez and I have a few calls to make before we start the interview,” Charlie told them.

“That’s fine,” Spider said. “Dan, take Trixie back to interrogation and get her settled.”

Trixie rolled her eyes in an exaggerated fashion. “I know where the interrogation room is, Spider.”

“I know you do, but it’s standard procedure to accompany the subject,” Spider told her.

“Give me a break,” she snorted. “It’s not like I’m going to climb out the window and escape. Although I have always wondered if someone could fit through that window…”

“Right now, you’re a witness to an active murder investigation,” Spider barked. “We do things by the book, so unless you want Lieutenant Mangan to cuff you, you’ll shut your trap and follow him to the interrogation room. Got it?”

“Aye, aye, captain,” Trixie muttered with a mock salute.

Dan took his friend by the elbow before she could make more trouble for herself. “C’mon, Trix.”

Bennie couldn’t resist taking one more jab. “You left the NYPD to work at the Mayberry PD? Way to go, Barney Fife,” he muttered as Dan led Trixie past him. “Oh, well. Guess some people aren’t cut out for swimming with the big fish.”

Dan clamped his lips shut and didn’t say a word. He kept walking around the corner and then down the hall to the interview room on the opposite end of the station. When Trixie opened her mouth to respond, he squeezed her bicep to silence her. She picked up on the message and complied. Once the pair was out of earshot, she heard her former boyfriend, Officer Jerrod McCoy, speak.

“Huh, good luck interviewing that one, boys. She’s a real piece of work. It wouldn’t surprise me a bit if she blew that chick’s brains out.”

Trixie’s blue eyes blazed hotter than a welder’s torch. She opened her mouth yet again, but once more Dan silenced her.

“Just keep walking, Trix,” he whispered. “Don’t make things worse by saying something you’ll regret.”

“If I promise not to say anything, can I go back there and claw his eyes out?”

“Um, I don’t think that would be a good idea right now,” Dan murmured. He stopped in front of the closed door of the interrogation room.

“But that little prick―”

“Shhh!” Dan hitched his thumb back. “Keep your voice down. Spider didn’t say I had to stick you in that room immediately, but I don’t want to tick him off.”

Red splotches marred Trixie’s peaches-and-cream complexion. She rarely used questionable language, but this situation certainly merited it. “That little prick practically accused me of killing Amanda.”

“Who cares what he thinks? It was his opinion; he doesn’t have any proof.”

“But still―”

Dan put his hands on Trixie’s shoulder and gave her a gentle shake. “Right now you need to forget about Jerrod and concentrate on what you’re going to tell Charlie and Bennie. I don’t care what sort of deal Jim made with the Woodwards; you need to tell them the truth.”

“Of course I’m going to tell them the truth.”

“Oh, you mean like Jim did?”

“Jim didn’t lie,” Trixie hissed. “He may have omitted a few details and stretched the truth a little, but he didn’t lie.”

Dan rolled his eyes. “I hate to tell you this, but your definition of telling the truth might not match the NYPD’s.”

“I know what I’m doing. I’m practically an expert at evading the truth.”

“Trixie, this is serious. This is a real-life murder investigation, not a scene in one of your little Lucy Radcliffe fanfics.”

“I’m well aware of that, Dan.”

“Are you sure about that?” he queried, one ebony brow winging its way upward in a display of skepticism. “You can’t talk your way out of this. Believe it or not, those are professional interrogators, some of New York City’s finest.”

“Huh, I’ve been questioned by worse. You’ve never seen Moms when she’s mad. She can put the fear of God in an atheist. She would always grill me after I returned home from one of our adventures, and I swear that she has an internal lie detector. I would’ve been scared to death to lie to her. If I hadn’t been so good at dancing around the truth back then, I never would’ve been allowed to leave my room.”

Dan smirked at her. “Still, you need to be careful what you say. You don’t want to incriminate Jim.”

“I know.”

“And you’d better start being a little nicer to Charlie and Bennie. There’s no need to provoke them.”

“As inept as they are, I’m sure they’ve figured out that I don’t like them by now,” she said. “If I suddenly start kissing up to them, it’ll look suspicious, so I’m better off continuing to give them crap.”

“Yeah, I guess so. But just don’t say anything that might come back to bite you later.”

“I won’t. So, are you going to watch the interview?”

Dan shook his head. “I hadn’t planned on it. I was going to head over to Manor House and wait for Jim to get home. He’s going to be madder than a wet hen when he hears about this, and Al might need some help restraining him.”

“Could you do me a favor instead?”

“Anything.”

“Can you watch with Spider?” she pleaded. “After it’s over, I’d like an opinion of how it went. I’m not sure I can trust Spider to do that.”

“Spider’s as trustworthy as they come, Trix.”

“I know, but I’d feel a lot better if I got it from you. I know you’ll be straight with me, no matter what.”

“Okay,” Dan agreed. “Now you’d better go sit down. I’d hate for Bennie and Charlie to see you out here talking.”

Trixie rolled her eyes. “I doubt there’s any reason to worry. This may be the first time I’ve been hauled in for questioning, but I see this all the time on the crime shows I watch, so I know how it works.”

“And how is that?”

“You’re going to drop me off in the interrogation room. I’ll sit in an uncomfortable metal chair, waiting for a much longer period of time than necessary. Meanwhile, Charlie and Bennie will be twiddling their thumbs somewhere―at least I hope it’s their thumbs they’re twiddling―which will allow me to grow more and more nervous as I wait for the questioning to begin. After I’ve been left alone long enough to work myself into a frenzy, they’ll finally join me. Ripe for the picking, I’ll sing like a bird and confess to kidnapping the Lindbergh baby. Charlie will get promoted to lieutenant, Bennie will be asked to play a cop in some crappy Lifetime movie, and I’ll be locked up for a crime I didn’t commit. The end.”

Dan grinned. “Actually, that isn’t too far off. Now get in there, and I’ll make sure Bennie isn’t twiddling anything.”

“Thanks.”

“And remember what I said earlier. Play nice.”

“I’ll play as nice as I can without making myself throw up.”

“That’s all I ask.” Dan leaned down to apply a brotherly kiss to her forehead, grinning at the indignant expression on Trixie’s face. He knew she hated it when someone drew attention to her lack of height, and that was her interpretation of his gesture. “If you do hurl, I’ll send Jerrod to clean it up.”

“You know I hate it when you patronize me, but you redeemed yourself with that offer. Good save.”

Assuming a stoic expression in case anyone was watching the monitors, Dan led the way into the interrogation room. He motioned to a metal folding chair that appeared to be just as uncomfortable as Trixie had predicted. “I’ll be with Spider in the tech room. Make yourself comfy.”

“Yeah, like that’s possible while sitting on these deathtraps,” Trixie muttered.

Feeling like the unlucky sap assigned the task of pulling the switch during an execution, Dan turned on his heel, walked away, and closed the door behind him.

Once he was gone, Trixie looked up at the camera. “C’mon, Spider. Metal folding chairs? In January? This borders on cruel and unusual punishment. Surely you could stretch the budget and buy some decent chairs. At least get some with cushions on the seats. If you’re hard up for cash, throw a bake sale or something. I’m sure the Wheelers or the Lynches would give you a donation. Just do something because this is truly pathetic. Don’t be a cliché; be a decent human being and buy some comfy chairs. Thank you.”

Having said her peace, Trixie crossed her arms in front of her chest and waited for the real fun to begin.

Thirty minutes later, Charlie and Bennie finally graced Trixie with their presence.

“So you decided to show up, eh?” she inquired archly. “I was getting worried that you’d gotten lost. In a building of this size, it could happen.”

Bennie tossed a folder on the table and then sat down across from Trixie. “We told you that we had calls to make.”

Trixie made a face. “I hope you know that those phone sex numbers charge you by the minute. It’d probably be cheaper for you to hire a hooker.”

“In case you haven’t noticed, you’re our guest,” Bennie told her sternly. “How about you show some respect?”

“I’ve shown you the same respect you’ve shown Spider, Chief,” Trixie retorted. “And technically you’re a guest of the Sleepyside Police Department. So think about that the next time you call Spider ‘chief’ in that sarcastic tone of yours.”

Bennie’s glare gave Trixie an immense feeling of satisfaction.

Charlie claimed the seat beside Bennie. “Can we get you anything, Ms. Belden?”

“Ms. Belden?” Trixie echoed. “Well, aren’t we formal?”

“Are you sure you don’t want anything?” Charlie asked, ignoring the bait. “Coffee, tea, soda?”

“You’ve never had coffee here,” Trixie remarked.

“That bad?” Charlie asked.

Trixie shook her head. “No, I wouldn’t know, because nobody has ever had the coffee here. All of those male chauvinist pigs out there are waiting for some woman to make it, so they’re always out. That’s how I know you’ve never had coffee here. When I visit, I bring some over from the shop across the street.”

“You want me to run over and get you a cup now?” Charlie offered.

“No, thank you.”

“You sure?” Charlie’s voice sounded strangely congenial. “I wouldn’t mind having a cup. It wouldn’t be a problem.”

Trixie beamed at her new friend. “Wow. I always assumed that the whole good cop-bad cop thing was a myth created by the people who write crime dramas, but clearly it’s true. You must be the good cop!”

“Charlie guzzles down coffee nonstop, so eventually he’s going to need some,” Bennie pointed out. “He was just offering you some to be kind.”

“Yeah, because he’s the good cop,” Trixie said. “That’s his hook.”

“He’s not a good cop, and neither am I!” Bennie snapped.

“Hey, you said it, not me,” Trixie muttered.

Charlie was tempted to slap Bennie across the back of the head, but instead he focused on Trixie. “Listen, do you want some coffee or not?”

“No, thank you.” Trixie flashed them her sweetest smile. “However, if that’s your less than subtle way of obtaining a DNA sample, I’d be happy to provide one. Just stick out your hand, and I’ll spit in it.”

“We aren’t trying to get a DNA sample,” Charlie informed her. “I was just being nice. Forget I offered.”

Trixie leaned across the table in Charlie’s direction and assumed a conspiratorial tone. “Does this mean you’re switching to the bad-cop role? Because between you and me, I don’t think Bennie will be very convincing as the good cop.”

“Beatrix Belden, do you or do you not understand that you’ve been brought in for questioning in regards to the murder of Amanda Woodward?” Bennie asked slowly, enunciating carefully as if indulging a small child.

“Yes, I believe I do,” she responded. “Are you going to give me the Miranda warning?”

“Not at this time, no,” Charlie answered.

Trixie’s lips settled into a frown. “Oh.”

“Does that disappoint you?” Bennie goaded.

“Well, this may sound silly, but I wanted to hear the Miranda warning for myself because I write fan fiction for Lucy Radcliffe, and I wanted to make sure that I didn’t leave anything out.” Trixie took a quick breath before continuing. “But since a person only hears the Miranda warning before being arrested, and since I prefer avoiding prison, I’d rather not hear it.”

Charlie blinked his eyes a few times, trying to compute the rapid-fire stream of conversation coming out of Trixie’s mouth. “Uh, good. Thanks for the explanation, Ms. Belden.”

“Listen, how about we drop the formalities?” Trixie suggested.

“That’s fine with me,” Charlie agreed, anxious to begin the questioning. “So Beatrix―”

Like an obedient student trying to avoid detention, Trixie raised her hand for permission to speak.

More confused than ever, Charlie paused and motioned for her to proceed.

“Um, Chuck, I would appreciate it if you’d call me Trixie, not Beatrix.”

“Only if you agree not to call me Chuck,” Charlie said through gritted teeth.

“It’s a deal,” Trixie told him. “The only people that call me Beatrix are my mother, when she’s mad; my brother, when he wants to irritate the crap out of me; and my aunt, because she’s weird like that.”

“Okay, Trixie,” Bennie began, “this has been fun, but how about we get things back on track?”

Trixie feigned a look of sympathy. “Are you feeling left out, Bennie? I’m sure we could come up with a nickname for you. How about Detective Douche Bag? If you ask me, it has a nice ring.”

Bennie didn’t appear amused, but he managed to hold his temper. “Instead of being a smart aleck, why don’t you tell us how you knew Amanda Woodward? Or if you prefer, we could lock you up for a bit until you decide to cooperate.”

Trixie wisely dropped the attitude and answered the question. “I met her through Jim. They were dating, and he brought her to a get-together.”

“I assume you mean Jim Frayne,” Charlie clarified.

Trixie nodded her affirmation.

“And how do you know Jim Frayne?” Bennie inquired.

“When we were teenagers, he came to Sleepyside to find his uncle,” Trixie explained. “His uncle had just passed away, but the Wheelers ended up adopting him. We’ve been close friends ever since.”

One of Charlie’s shaggy gray eyebrows shot up. “How close?”

“He’s one of my best friends, along with the other five Bob-Whites,” Trixie replied honestly.

“Bob-Whites?” Bennie repeated, his tone thick with sarcasm. “I thought they were those little game birds people shoot.”

“A group of us formed a club, and we called ourselves the Bob-Whites,” Trixie explained. “There are Jim, his sister, Dan Mangan, Diana Lynch, my two brothers, and me.”

Bennie sneered at her. “Aw, how sweet.”

“Yeah, it’s a regular Hallmark movie,” Charlie added. “How well did you know Amanda?”

Trixie shrugged. “I got along with her for Jim’s sake.”

“So you didn’t like her?” Bennie baited.

Trixie looked him squarely in the eye. “No, I didn’t like her. In fact, it’s safe to say that I couldn’t stand her.”

Both Charlie and Bennie looked surprised.

“What did you expect me to say? That she was my BFF?” Trixie snorted. “It would’ve been stupid to lie about it. It wasn’t a secret that Amanda and I didn’t get along.”

“Why didn’t you like Amanda?” Charlie asked.

“If you would’ve met her, you wouldn’t have had to ask. To know Amanda was to dislike her.”

Charlie and Bennie exchanged a look.

“That’s harsh,” Bennie remarked.

“Sorry, but it’s true. Amanda was a total snot,” Trixie elaborated, sensing her previous answer hadn’t helped her any. “She was self-consumed, vain, spoiled, selfish… Do you get the point? I could go on for hours.”

“Yeah, I’ll bet you could,” Bennie commented. “So you didn’t like Amanda because she was rich.”

Trixie shook her head. “No, that had nothing to do with it. My two best girl friends are rich, but they’re nothing like Amanda. She was a complete diva, and she had poor Jim completely snowed.”

“Jim’s your pal,” Charlie said. “I’ll bet you didn’t like seeing Amanda dupe him. When they got engaged, it probably burned you up.”

“It wasn’t any of my business who Jim married,” Trixie said with a sniff.

“But you didn’t approve of their engagement?” Bennie coaxed.

Trixie knew she had to answer. “Not really, but the most important thing to me was that Jim was happy. If Amanda made him happy, then I wasn’t going to say a word.”

And I hadn’t, she thought to herself. I packed up and moved to California. I wasn’t going to tell Jim he was making a horrible mistake, but I also wasn’t going to sit by and watch.

It was almost as if Charlie could read her thoughts. “Didn’t you move to Los Angeles after Jim and Amanda got engaged?”

“Yes.”

“Why?” Charlie demanded.

“There wasn’t any reason to stay in Sleepyside,” Trixie hedged.

“But your family’s here in Sleepyside,” Bennie pointed out. “All your friends are here. Your detective agency’s here. Why move across the country?”

Trixie shrugged. “Why not move across the country? I had an exciting job offer. I was young and single and had never lived anywhere but New York. Working in L.A. sounded like the adventure of a lifetime.”

“So why’d you leave if things were so peachy?” Charlie wheedled. “You weren’t in California long.”

Trixie chose her words carefully. “It may sound silly, but I got homesick. I realized there was more to love in Sleepyside than Los Angeles.”

“Any other reason you want to tell us about?” Bennie prodded.

“Well, there is one other thing,” Trixie began. “It played a huge role in my decision to come back home, but it’s kind of embarrassing…”

Charlie sat up in his chair. “Was it because you were involved with someone?”

Trixie feigned surprise. “How did you know? Oh, it’s just too painful to talk about.”

“You’ll feel better if you get it off your chest,” Bennie urged.

“Okay.” Trixie took a deep breath, milking this moment for all it was worth. “You’ll probably think I was being silly. I was involved with a coworker, and we were getting serious. After he broke up with me, I just couldn’t stay in Los Angeles. It would’ve been too painful.”

Jack did break up with me, she reasoned to herself. And it would’ve been painful to be apart from Jim any longer…

It was obvious that Charlie was disappointed. “You came back to New York because some guy broke up with you?”

“Well, that was part of it,” Trixie replied truthfully. “Remember I was also homesick. L.A. never felt like home. Do you know how hard it is to get a decent New York-style pizza in California? It’s just about impossible. And don’t get me started on finding a good hamburger made of actual beef…”

Bennie leaned back and crossed his arms. “And just who was this supposed boyfriend of yours?”

“Supposed?” Trixie parroted. “Supposed?! What’re you implying? Do you think I made him up?”

“I’m not implying anything,” Bennie said. “You keep talking about this supposed boyfriend of yours, but you haven’t told us a name.”

“There, you said it again! Supposed!” Trixie bristled. “Do you think I made him up? For your information, his name is Jack Palmer. If you doubt I dated him, check it out for yourself.”

Charlie looked down at his notes. “Jack Palmer? Isn’t he the other private investigator that’s working for Jim Frayne?”

“Yes, that’s him,” she affirmed. She assumed a wistful expression. “Jack is…quite a man. You can’t begin to imagine how difficult it is to work with him on this case after all we’ve been through. It was yet another reminder why I couldn’t have stayed in California. To be subjected to all that…charm…on a daily basis…Well, it would’ve been impossible for me.”

Because eventually Jack and I would’ve driven each other crazy, she surmised. He’s too much like Mart.

Charlie rolled his eyes. He needed to get this interview back on track. “So…about Amanda…When was the last time you saw her?”

Trixie struggled to keep a smug expression off her face. She managed to skirt around the real reason she’d left California and had gotten Charlie to change the topic as a bonus!

“Um, what was the question?”

“When was the last time you saw Amanda?” Charlie repeated.

“Same time you did,” Trixie answered. “When she was sprawled out on the sidewalk, dead.”

Charlie rolled his eyes again. “When was the last time you saw Amanda alive?”

Trixie furrowed her brow thoughtfully. “I honestly don’t know. It’s been awhile.”

“Jim hasn’t brought her along to any of your get-togethers?” Bennie inquired slyly.

“No, not recently. I guess she’s been too busy making wedding plans.” As well making as plans to stab Jim in the back!

“Trixie, where were you yesterday morning at seven?” Charlie asked.

She raised her eyebrows into a questioning arc. She hadn’t seen this coming. “Why are you asking?”

Bennie grinned at her. “Because we want to know. In case you’ve forgotten the question, I’ll ask it again. Where were you yesterday at seven A.M.?”

“I had a meeting in the city,” she replied, her pulse quickening.

“Where at?” Charlie prompted.

Trixie shrugged. “Somewhere in Manhattan. I don’t recall the exact address off the top of my head.”

“Who was this meeting with?” Bennie queried.

Trixie gulped back the lump that had risen in her throat. Her meeting had been with her wedding planner. However, she couldn’t tell them that without telling them about her engagement to Jim, which, thanks to the Woodwards, was still a secret.

“A person I’m working with,” was her vague response.

A frown marred Charlie’s generous brow. “Does this person have a name?”

“I don’t feel comfortable giving you that information,” Trixie hedged.

“If I were you, I’d reconsider,” Charlie advised. “Prison isn’t very comfortable, either.”

She drew back in surprise. “Ooooh, the good cop’s going rogue. Nice tactic there, Charlie. I didn’t know you had it in you.”

“Quit stalling,” Bennie ordered. “Who were you with yesterday morning?”

“Well, it wasn’t Amanda Woodward, if that’s what you’re getting at,” Trixie snapped.

Charlie made a sweeping motion with his hand. “That’s easy for you to say. Prove it by telling us who you were with.”

“I told you, I can’t tell you that,” she insisted, her eyes sparking. “It isn’t my information to give.”

“Then whose information is it?” Bennie demanded.

Trixie crossed her armed, squared her shoulders, and jutted out her chin. Although no words came out of her mouth, her body language screamed defiance.

“Whoever it is, I hope they’re worth going to prison for,” Charlie threatened.

“I haven’t broken any laws, so you can quit threatening me with jail. Last time I checked, it isn’t illegal to give a vague alibi,” Trixie informed them tartly.

“Well, it might not be illegal, but it is stupid,” Bennie countered.

Charlie went back to his good-cop persona. “Listen, Trixie. If you haven’t done anything wrong, then there’s no reason for you to be so difficult. Just tell us who you were with so we can confirm your alibi.”

“Believe me, I would if I could,” she shot back. “I’d like nothing better than to shut you up. Unfortunately, I’m not the only person affected by this alibi, so until I get the okay from the other party, you’ll just have to doubt me.”

“Sweetheart, you aren’t a priest or a lawyer,” Bennie sniggered. “You’re a pay-for-hire detective. It’s not like your clients have any expectations of confidentiality.”

Trixie bit back a laugh. That bonehead thinks I couldn’t be more specific because I was with a client! Well, if that’s what he thinks, I’d hate to disillusion him.

“Um, what part of ‘private’ investigator don’t you understand?” Trixie challenged. “I investigate things that are private. Hence the name, private investigator. Surely even a moron like you can make that connection.”

Charlie shifted uncomfortably in his seat. His bulky 280-pound frame was a poor fit for the folding chair. “All right, so you refuse to tell us where you were or who you were with. How about you tell us how you ended up at the crime scene? Or is that a secret, too?”

“I had a meeting with Jim later that morning, and he needed to get in touch with me,” she replied. “When I called the agency to check in, my partner―that’s Jim’s sister, by the way―gave me the address where Jim would be. I thought I’d save some time and meet him there. I had no idea it was a murder scene.”

“How did Jim’s sister get the address?” Bennie asked.

“As Jim probably told you, he’s being stalked, and Honey and I were working on the case with Jack Palmer,” Trixie explained. “Honey was with Jim when he got a phone call from a woman we assumed was his stalker. This woman told him to go to 103 Fifth Avenue. Jim told Honey, and then Honey told me.”

Bennie’s mouth twisted in a smirk. “So P.I. Belden, who is this mysterious stalker?”

“I don’t know, but whoever it was, she killed Amanda,” she replied.

“How convenient,” Bennie muttered.

“It’s not convenient; it’s the truth,” she retorted. “Although we don’t have a name, we’ve gathered a lot of evidence. We’d be happy to share this info with the NYPD.”

“Oh, I’m sure you would,” Charlie remarked. “That way we could focus on that wild goose chase instead of finding the person that killed Amanda.”

Trixie leaned over the table. “You don’t believe me. Fine. You look for Amanda’s killer, and we’ll look for Jim’s stalker. Either way, justice will be served.”

“Do you own a gun, Trixie?” Bennie asked.

“I own several.”

Charlie’s gaze was steely. “Does one of those happen to be a .9 mm?”

“Yes, it does,” she answered. “If you show me a warrant, I’ll let you look at it. I might even let you shoot it if you say please.”

Bennie leaned back in his chair and chuckled. “You’re awfully sassy for someone in your position.”

“And just what position am I in?” she demanded.

“You own the murder weapon―” Charlie began.

“Correction!” Trixie interrupted. “I own a gun that just happens to be the same model as the murder weapon.”

Charlie rolled his eyes. “You own the murder weapon, you refuse to give us your alibi, and you showed up at the crime scene not long after we did,” he listed.

“All that may be true, but there’s a flaw in your story.” After a dramatic pause, Trixie continued. “I don’t have a motive.”

Looking as satisfied as a sixteen-year-old boy that had just been handed the keys to a new Corvette, Charlie withdrew a newspaper from his folder and slapped it down on the table. “How’s this for motive?”

Nonplussed, Trixie glanced down at the New York Post in front of her. “All I see is a crappy picture of me. Is my hair really that poofy?”

“Do you know what I see?” Bennie challenged. He picked up the paper and studied it closely. Smiling haughtily, he turned his attention to Trixie. “I see a woman that’s totally in love with a man. A man that just happened to be engaged to someone else, a man she could never have…”

Trixie sat quietly, not saying a word.

Charlie took the paper from Bennie. He gave it a quick onceover before slapping it back down on the table. “Do you know what I see, Trixie? Motive!”

“I did not kill Amanda Woodward!”

“Save it for the jury, sweetheart,” Bennie needled.

“The only thing crappier than the picture is the article,” Trixie argued. “I know the douche bag that wrote it. He’s been trying to dig up dirt about me since I was a teenager.”

Bennie smirked at her. “Guess he finally found some.”

“I didn’t read one single word of that article,” Charlie told her, his voice dripping with venom. “I didn’t have to, because a picture’s worth a thousand words. And that picture told me everything I need to know.”

Trixie’s body went rigid with fury. “Is this seriously how the NYPD investigates a murder? By buying a newspaper and flipping through the pages until you find a picture that’s connected to your case? Seriously?!”

“We have a lot more than a photo in the Post,” Bennie said smugly.

“Were you aware that Amanda was planning to end her engagement to Jim?” Charlie inquired.

“That’s ridiculous,” Trixie snorted.

Bennie’s thoughtful expression caused wrinkles to pucker his forehead, accentuating his receding hairline. “So you weren’t aware of her plans.”

“Amanda and I weren’t close, so no, I wasn’t privy to her innermost hopes and dreams,” Trixie informed him. “To answer your question, no, Amanda hadn’t said anything to me about ending the engagement. However, I seriously doubt that she was going to break up with Jim. She was crazy about him.”

“Well, her wedding planner was privy to Amanda’s innermost hopes and dreams,” Charlie paraphrased, “and according to her, that’s exactly what Amanda was planning to do.”

Trixie rolled her eyes in a show of disbelief. “Whatever.”

“Do you have any guesses why Amanda might’ve been planning such a thing?” Charlie asked.

Trixie’s eyes narrowed as she studied the full-faced detective. She knew exactly why Amanda had planned such a thing―if indeed that was her plan―but because of Jim’s agreement with the Woodwards, she couldn’t supply that reason. Sensing a setup, she chose her words carefully.

“Since any guess I have would just be conjecture and inadmissible in court, I assume this is going somewhere.”

Charlie smiled, impressed by her logic. “Is it possible Jim was involved with someone else?”

“While he was involved with Amanda?” Trixie clarified. The specification allowed her to answer honestly. “Jim’s a Boy Scout. He would never two-time someone. Never.”

“Never ever?” Bennie asked, clearly mocking her.

Trixie resisted the urge to groan. Instead she lowered herself to his maturity level and responded in kind. “Never ever ever, to infinity and back.”

“Was Jim ever involved with you?” Charlie queried.

“Ever?” Trixie planned to capitalize on the past tense Charlie had used in his inquiry. “I guess you could say that we were kind of an item as teenagers. My dad didn’t want us to get too serious, though, so we remained what you could call ‘special friends’.”

“Is that what you wanted?” Bennie asked.

“I told you, Jim’s a Boy Scout. It didn’t matter what I wanted. Jim abided by my father’s wishes.”

Charlie quit sidestepping and asked the question Trixie had hoped he wouldn’t. “Trixie, are you in love with Jim Frayne?”

“Where did that come from?” she stalled, her heart hammering. She was a master of evasion, but she wasn’t sure how she could spin that particular question.

“Just answer the question,” Bennie ordered. “Do you love Jim Frayne or not?”

Trixie had to choke back a sigh of relief. Bennie had saved her! There was a big difference between loving someone and being in love with him. She could answer the question now without lying.

“Yeah, I love Jim. I love all the Bob-Whites. I love Honey, Di, Dan, and even my brothers. They’re my best friends.”

“Are you involved with Jim?” Bennie badgered.

“Right now?” Trixie sputtered. Once again, she was forced to stall until someone reworded the question. “Are you kidding me?”

“Just answer yes or no,” Charlie barked. “Are you having an affair with Jim?”

“By affair, I assume you mean a physical relationship?” Trixie hedged.

Growing weary, Charlie rubbed his craggy forehead. “Yes, that’s exactly what we mean. Are you sleeping with Jim Frayne?”

“No, absolutely not,” Trixie told them honestly. “I’m not sleeping with Jim. To be crystal clear, I’m not having sex with him, either.”

“Do you want to?” Bennie prodded. “Do you want to screw Jim?”

“You are so vulgar!” Trixie spat, her voice full of contempt. “Why are you so curious about my sex life―or rather the lack thereof? Are you getting off on this?”

“Just answer the question,” Charlie directed. “Are you interested in having a relationship with Jim?”

“I already have a relationship with Jim. Like I’ve told you a hundred times, he’s my best friend!”

Charlie looked hard at her. “But do you want to be more than friends?”

Trixie sagged down in her seat, leaned her head back, and groaned out loud. “Why do you insist on beating this dead horse?”

“Because it isn’t dead; you haven’t answered the question,” Charlie pointed out. He leaned forward and looked at Trixie with a gaze that could’ve sliced through steel. “Trixie Belden, are you in love with Jim Frayne?”

Evasion was no longer a viable option. Her only chance of survival was to retreat.

“Do you have enough evidence to arrest me?” she inquired.

Charlie looked surprised by her response. “No, not at this time.”

“Since I don’t have any additional information pertinent to this case, this interview is over.” Trixie stood to her feet, hoping her trembling legs would support her. “I believe I’m free to go, correct?”

“That’s correct,” Charlie conceded. “However, if you have any vacation plans, you’d better cancel them and stay close to home. You’re officially a person of interest in this murder investigation.”

Trixie’s laugh was scornful. “A person of interest? I’m not stupid. I know that means you think I did it but you don’t have the evidence to prove it.”

“That’s exactly what it means,” Bennie said.

“Well, I didn’t kill Amanda Woodward,” she maintained. “So while you waste your time trying to dig up evidence against me that doesn’t exist, I’ll try to find the real killer.”

“Jim’s supposed stalker?” Bennie snickered. “I’ll give you a tip, sweetheart. If you want to find the woman obsessed with Jim, take a look in the mirror. I’d be willing to bet a pretty penny that the stalker would be looking right back at you.”

“Yeah, that’s what I’d expect you to say,” Trixie said, her voice thick with scorn. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a job to do, especially since you aren’t doing yours.”

With that, she turned on her heel and stomped out of the interrogation room. She didn’t care how her departure looked. Right now, her only concern was putting the guilty party behind bars.

Before Trixie ended up there herself.