Dark Places: From the Ashes

Part One

September, 2009

“You wanted to see me?” Trixie asked, almost bouncing into the library of the Manor House. She had received the invitation to this meeting from Miss Trask, who knew nothing of its topic and could answer no questions. This circumstance, along with the identity of the originator of the invitation, had caused hours of intense curiosity, which were about to be assuaged.

Jim, who was seated at the desk, looked up and nodded. “I have something I’d like your opinion on. I just acquired something that’s a little… shall we say, mysterious.”

She smiled in return. “Sounds right up my alley. What is it?”

He held out a sheaf of papers. “Take a look at this, first.”

Trixie took it and sat down to read. Her eyebrows rose and she looked up at her long-time friend. “You’ve bought a house? And you never said anything about it to anyone?”

Jim shrugged, looking embarrassed. “I didn’t mean it to be this way, but the thing is, someone contacted me who had known my father, because he knew this property was coming up for sale and thought I might be interested. I went and looked and, to make a long story short, bought it right away. It wasn’t my intention – I was only going to take a look – but it closed yesterday and it’s too late to go back, now.”

“Maybe impulsiveness is catching,” she teased. “So, what’s the mystery?”

Taking the papers from her hands, Jim found the one he wanted her to see. “This is part of the history of the property,” he explained. “You’ll see that my parents owned it from before I was born until shortly before my Dad died.”

“Then this is the house you grew up in? I can’t wait to see it.”

He shook his head. “No, actually, it’s not. It’s maybe twenty miles away from it, maybe a little less. I never knew that they owned it, not until the man I mentioned got in touch.”

“Wait.” She frowned. “How did he get in touch with you? Isn’t it a bit suspicious that he could?”

Once more, Jim shook his head. “He went to school with both my biological and adoptive fathers. He’d heard, somewhere, about the adoption and it was easy enough for him to send a message to me via Dad.”

She let that slide for the moment and returned to the previous point. “So, they sold the property without ever telling you they owned it. Do you suppose there might be a reason for that?”

His expression turned sad. “Medical bills. Loss of income when my Dad had to stop working. They were struggling to make ends meet. They sold this place first, to try to keep our own place, but in the end they couldn’t keep it, either.” He shook his head. “That’s not the mystery, though. Look at the name of the next owner.”

“Norman Wayne Jones.” She looked up at him in enquiry.

“My step-father,” he answered, his face grim. “And, before you ask, I’ve checked and it was him, not just someone else with the same name. What I want to know is whether there’s a connection between his purchase of property from my parents and… well, what happened later.”

She looked at the papers for a long moment and then up at Jim’s face. “Okay.” She nodded once. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thanks, Trixie. I’ll pay your expenses, of course, so keep a record of what you spend, okay?”

She shook her head. “You’re entitled to Bob-White rates on investigations, you know – that’s free, in case you’re wondering. I don’t need to be paid anything.”

“Humour me,” he answered. “I don’t want you to be out of pocket for the sake of my curiosity.”

She smiled. “You know, I’m curious now, too.”

“Still, it might end up costing a bit and I want to take care of that.”

“Fine,” she answered, holding up her hands. “So, can I read through all of these papers? Do you need them at the moment?”

“I had them copied for you. You can take them with you, but I’d prefer if we kept this between the two of us for the moment, okay? I haven’t told anyone but Dad that I’ve done this and I don’t want to ruin my stick-in-the-mud reputation.” He grinned to show he was joking. “That’s what all the cloak and dagger stuff was about, by the way.”

She rolled her eyes. “The main thing that happened with that was that I almost died of curiosity.”

“I thought you’d grown out of that trait. I guess some things never change.” He sobered. “I do need to tell people about this myself, though, and I’m not sure I want it known that I told you first. I’d also like to have an inkling of what happened before I spread this around.”

“Which means that I need to act fast,” Trixie deduced. “Okay, Jim. I’m on the case.”

Later that day, after she had read all of the material that Jim had provided, Trixie went for a walk to allow her mind to begin processing it all. Since she was already in Sleepyside, she had decided to spend the night at her parents’ place, so her walk took her through the Preserve. As the sun sank lower in the sky, she began to feel the evening’s chill and turned towards her childhood home. Her path would take her close to the Bob-Whites’ old clubhouse. Hearing voices as she approached, she slowed to a stop and waited, out of sight.

“I’m warning you, Jim,” she heard a familiar voice say. “Don’t stir this up. You don’t know what you’re getting into.”

“I don’t think it’s as ominous as you’re trying to make out,” Jim answered, rather testily. “And I have to wonder why you’re telling me this at all.”

“Just don’t get into this, okay? It’s not worth the trouble.”

Jim muttered something that was not loud enough for Trixie to hear. A moment later, footsteps sounded, coming in her direction. In a split-second decision, she ducked off the trail and down a slope, allowing the dense undergrowth to shield her from view. As she waited, crouching low, she heard Dan mutter to himself as he passed. The venom in his tone made her wonder just what she had overheard.

For some time, Trixie waited, listening for any sign of someone else nearby. At last, she decided that it was safe to come out and slowly walked up to the trail. There was no one in sight, so she continued on her way. Just past the clubhouse, she saw Jim, sitting on a convenient rock and apparently deep in thought.

“Hello,” she called, causing him to look up in surprise. “What are you doing out here?”

He shrugged. “Just passing the time. I like it out here; it’s peaceful.”

“Until I arrive,” she answered, grinning. “I’ll leave you to your peace.”

He shook his head. “Wait. I want to ask you something.”

When he did not elaborate, she waved a hand in invitation.

He sighed. “This is going to sound strange, but I need to know. I guess I should just say it.” He looked straight at her. “If I ask you not to investigate a certain aspect of this case, would you respect my wishes?”

She paused, thinking. “That depends on what the aspect is and why you would be asking,” she hedged. “Are you going to enlighten me?”

“I’m not sure.” He looked down, frowning. “Maybe I’m imagining it, but someone said something to me since we spoke earlier, along the lines that maybe I don’t want to know some of what I just asked you to find out.”

“You’ve told someone else already?” she asked, but from his expression she knew that was not the case.

“Someone knew without being told. I can’t help feeling suspicious about that, but I don’t see how – this person – knew.”

Trixie was certain that the person in question was Dan, but decided not to say so. “What do you want me to do?”

He frowned once more, looking troubled. After a moment, his expression cleared and became determined. “Go ahead with the investigation. I’ll deal with whatever you find when it comes and not before.”

“Okay,” she answered, and took her leave. As she walked away, she could not help but wonder just what she was getting into – and why Dan had acted as he had. In light of his recent behaviour, she felt a stir of foreboding.

Over the next few days, Trixie began to build up a picture of the events connected to the house and to Jim. She called and asked him for certain key dates and worked those into the timeline. She did some research on the area where the house was located. She even got in touch with the man who had supplied Jim with the information in the first place. This last course of action provided her with an interesting clue, but not one that helped the investigation to progress. With this new lead, she put the whole situation back to Jim.

“What have you got?” he asked, at the beginning of their telephone conversation. “Anything interesting?”

“Yes,” she answered, “but it’s leading in the opposite direction. I thought I’d better check on what you want me to do next. First, though, I need you to tell me what you know about your grandparents and great-grandparents.”

He breathed a sigh. “Hardly anything. I never met any of them and I was under the impression that they were all dead either before I was born, or not long afterwards.”

“So, do you know any of their names?” she prompted.

“No. Other than that there would be a couple called Frayne and a couple called Vanderheiden, I don’t really know anything. Why do you want to know?”

“I wondered whether you would recognise your grandmother’s maiden name if you saw it.”

He laughed, without much humour. “No, I wouldn’t. I have no clue what it would be.”

“According to information from the man who let you know the property was for sale, it was probably Randall,” she told him.

“I’ve seen that name somewhere recently.” Jim’s voice was slow and thoughtful. “I just can’t remember where.”

“On one of the papers you gave me,” she explained. “Apparently, your father inherited the property from his maternal grandparents, who were the ones who raised him. The name immediately above your father’s is John Randall, who owned the house from the 1930s until about five years before you were born.”

“My father’s maternal grandparents raised him?” She could hear the dread in Jim’s voice. “Do you know why?”

“Not really,” she answered. “Your father didn’t really talk about his family situation, so the man didn’t know. I wondered if you’d asked Mr. Wheeler.”

“He told me everything he could remember back when I first met him,” Jim replied. “I’ll ask again, though, and see if this brings anything to mind. Do you have anything else?”

She paused. “It’s just a hunch, really.”

“What is it?”

“Well, it’s to do with the dates that the property changed hands. Your step-father bought it not long before your father died – we already established why that would be. The thing is, he sold it again not long after your mother died.” She took a breath. “I was wondering if there might be a reason for that.”

Jim considered the matter for a moment and his voice was serious and thoughtful when he spoke. “He really did love her, I think, in his own way. Maybe it reminded him of her and he didn’t want to think about her any more.” He sighed. “As a fifteen-year-old, I didn’t get this, but I wonder now whether that was one of the reasons he hated me so much.”

“That’s a thought,” she murmured, referring to the first part of his statement. “It might be that. I’ll have to see what else I can find out, though.” Gathering her thoughts, she changed the subject. “Now, the other thing I need from you is a direction. Do you want me to start looking at John Randall, or do you want me to focus on Jonesy?”

There was a pause as he thought about his answer. “Ultimately, I’d like to know about both, so maybe you should go with whichever one is producing more leads.”

“Okay, I’ll do it that way,” she answered.

They talked for only a short time longer before ending the call. Trixie sat in the same place for a long time after she had put the phone down, wondering about this investigation and what it was going to mean to Jim.

The following day, Trixie took a drive upstate to see the house for herself. She had intended to wait until the next weekend, but her boss was Matthew Wheeler and he had other ideas. When he had heard about the information Trixie had already gathered, he had racked his brain for more. While he did not remember anything specific about either the house or his friend’s upbringing, he was certain that he had been told something and that he only needed the right trigger to recall it. He could not spare the time to make the trip for himself, so he decided that sending Trixie would be the next best thing.

She arrived in the town of Maple Grove late on the Monday morning and had soon found the address. The area was on the outskirts of town, with large yards and mostly substantial houses, though nothing too ostentatious. The house Jim had bought was old and rather run-down, its neighbours’ neatness emphasising its shabbiness. It had been vacant for some time and so Trixie had been able to obtain the keys from Jim. She first took a walk around the yard, finding nothing of particular interest, then ventured inside.

The air inside smelled stale and she wrinkled her nose. Old floorboards creaked underfoot as she walked. The breeze coming through the open door stirred up the dust. She walked through the rooms, finding all of them empty, even the attic and basement. She supposed that it must have been cleaned out in preparation for the sale, but that was hardly what she would have preferred. Her tour complete, she began another round, this time taking photographs of both the inside and the outside.

Frowning slightly, she locked the house once more and began to look around for neighbours who might know something. She rang the bell of the house on one side, but no one seemed to be home. The woman who answered the door of the house on the other side had only lived there for four years, so knew nothing of events that happened well over a decade before.

Next, Trixie tried a couple of the houses across the street, still with no luck. As a last resort, she tried the house over the back fence and at last obtained a little information. The occupant of that house, an elderly widowed named Mrs. Overton, had lived there for over fifty years and remembered the Randalls. She could not recall the name of their grandson, who had lived with them, but vividly remembered his red hair.

“He was a quiet boy,” the lady explained. “He wasn’t any trouble to them. He helped around the place and did well at school. He went to boarding school when he was older, so he wasn’t around so much then.”

“Do you know why he lived here and not with his parents?” Trixie asked.

Mrs. Overton thought for a moment, one finger tapping her chin. “There was a story to that… now, what was it? The parents were alive, I know; it wasn’t anything tragic. They were busy doing something and couldn’t take him wherever it was they went – too unsanitary. Were they missionaries? Or was it some kind of health work? I know it was helping poor people in some other country. I don’t rightly know which country… somewhere uncivilised.”

“I think he was grown up and had moved away by the time the Randalls died. Can you tell me anything about the circumstances around then?”

The woman shook her head. “That’s not quite right. He was still living here when Mrs. Randall went. She had a stroke, poor thing. At first it looked like she would be all right, then she had another one and died almost at once. The boy would have been still at high school, I would guess. Poor Mr. Randall had a terrible time after that. It was like he just didn’t want to live any longer.”

“From what I’ve seen, it can’t have been very much longer that he lived,” Trixie noted.

“It wasn’t,” Mrs. Overton agreed. “A few years, maybe. Not more than three or four. He left the house to his grandson, but the grandson was already settled somewhere else, so he had a cousin or brother or someone live in it for a time.”

Trixie’s ears pricked up at this. “A cousin or brother? I didn’t think he had a brother and I haven’t heard about any cousins. Do you know anything about this man?”

The old lady frowned, thinking. “He was tall and he had brown hair. He worked in a bank, I think, or was it a department store? He got married while he was living here, and his wife was one of the Sullivan girls – not the eldest one, or the youngest, but I’m not sure which of the middle two girls she was.”

“Do the Sullivans still live near here?”

“Oh, no. They moved away years ago, when all of the girls were married and had left town. I’m not sure where they went. I didn’t keep in touch.”

Trixie nodded, trying to decide on her next question. “Do you remember anything about the time when the Randalls’ grandson sold the property?”

“Not much,” she answered. “The couple who were living there had to move away and I think it was just more convenient to sell than to find new tenants. I don’t even know who bought it because they never lived there. The people who lived there never stayed long; they all said it was too expensive. It wasn’t all that long until it sold again. Was it the Abercrombies that bought it that time, or the Cooks? It sold so many times after that I can’t get all of the names straight.”

“That’s okay,” Trixie assured her. “I don’t really need to know about the people after that time. I’m mostly interested in the Randalls and their grandson and the man he sold the house to.”

“Well, I can’t really help you any more than I have, dear,” the old lady answered, with regret. “I don’t really remember anything more.”

“You’ve been really helpful,” Trixie assured her. “Thank you for answering my questions.”

“It’s been no trouble.” The lady smiled and closed the door.

Trixie walked back to her car with a thoughtful look on her face, wondering all the while how she could find out more about the man who had lived in the house while Jim’s father owned it.

The first step that she felt that she should take was to put a call through to Jim and ask him if he knew anything about this man. She managed to catch him and gave him a brief summary of what she had found, promising full details later. When she came to the man who had lived in the house, he interrupted at once.

“It can’t have been a brother; I’m certain that my father was an only child.” His voice was sure and quiet. “I never heard of a cousin, but I guess there might have been one.”

“Why do you suppose you didn’t go to him, if he really did exist, when your mother died?” Trixie wondered.

Through the phone line she heard him sigh. “That’s a good question. Maybe the woman was mistaken and he wasn’t really a relative, or maybe he’d died, too. Unless you can find out who he was, I don’t think we can tell.”

“Well, that’s reached the top of my list,” she told him. “I’ll be in touch when I find out some more.”

He thanked her and they ended the call. Trixie sat and thought about the matter for a moment, then chose a course of action. Her next port of call would be the local library.

An hour and a half later, she was almost ready to give up in disgust. The town newspaper’s archives had been lost in a fire and it did not rate much of a mention in that of the nearest neighbouring town. There was little in the way of local information available and the time she had spent wading through it had mostly been wasted. She decided to persist for just ten more minutes before re-evaluating her strategy.

That time had almost elapsed when the name Sullivan caught her eye in the family notices. The flash of excitement she felt faded away as she saw that the engagement notice was for the youngest daughter and thus was probably not the one she sought. The discovery gave her the impetus to keep searching and before long she had found the write-up of that wedding.

“Yes!” Trixie whispered, as she read through the account. “Now I’m getting somewhere.”

The newspaper provided names for all three of the elder sisters and their husbands and noted where each lived. From that information, it seemed likely that the people she was looking for were named Aiden and Valerie King, who at that time lived in Maple Grove.

“Which doesn’t help all that much after all,” Trixie muttered, frowning. “King! Why couldn’t they be called Pumpernickel, or something else unusual, so I could find them?”

Deciding that this was as far as this line of enquiry could take her for the moment, she noted down the names and date, before leaving. The sun was sinking in the sky and she had to decide whether to stay the night or head for home. After only a minute, she made the choice to stay.

Most of the things she would need were already stashed in the car, but Trixie made a stop to pick up some food. She was sure that Jim would be happy to pay for her to stay somewhere, but chose instead to head back to the house. When she entered, the interior was dim. The sun had, by this time, dipped below the trees and dark was falling. The electricity had been turned off at some point, so she had to rely on the single flashlight she had brought.

She hauled her gear inside in one trip and set up an inflatable mattress for her bed using the fading light of day. Then, she settled in for a picnic meal on the floor. Through the window, she could see a few stars twinkling. When she stood up and cleared away the mess, she could see the lights in windows of nearby houses.

Far from being sleepy, Trixie decided on another exploration of the house, more for something to do than in hope of actually finding anything. She roamed here and there, happily engaged in her task, when at length she was interrupted by a firm knock on the front door.

Heart beating a little quicker, she hastened in that direction. Hoping that she had locked the security screen properly, she eased open the door.

“Ma’am?” The voice was male and polite. “May I ask what you’re doing here?”

She swung her flashlight a little higher and breathed a sigh of relief. The owner of the voice was a uniformed police officer.

“The new owner gave me the key and asked me to take a look at the place,” she explained. “The electricity’s been cut off, though, so I can’t turn on the lights.”

“You’re looking the place over in the dark.” His tone was sceptical. “Do you have any proof of that?”

“What? No, not in the dark. I looked the place over in the daytime, but then I decided to stay up here overnight rather than drive nearly four hours home in the dark. And I have the keys, if that’s any proof. They’re in my pocket and I can show them to you, if you like.”

Something in her manner must have convinced him, as the next thing he said was, “That won’t be necessary, ma’am.”

At that, he was gone and Trixie breathed a sigh of relief. She closed the door and switched off her light. One hand on the wall next to her, she made her way into various rooms and peeked out the windows. On one side, she caught sight of a neighbour looking out the window in her direction. Frowning, she determined to get up early in the morning and try to speak to them.

An hour passed and still it was not time to sleep. Trixie was lying on her bed, staring out the nearest window at the night sky, when a soft thump caught her attention. Immediately on the alert, she lay still for a few moments, trying to hear something more. When that approach yielded nothing, she rolled onto the floor and eased her way over to the window.

A dark shadow passed into view. Something about the shape suggested that someone was out there; her instincts told her it was a man. She observed him for several minutes, then came to the conclusion that he was watching her just as much as she was watching him. Feeling vulnerable, she took a step back.

As she did so, the shadow moved as well. Trixie’s eyes narrowed. On tip-toe, she crossed to where she had left her flashlight and scooped it up. Moving back to the window, she waited for the right moment. Cupping her hand around the front, she gently placed it against the glass. When she was sure that the shadow was in the right place and her hand would guard her from the glare, she switched it on.

“I knew it!” she cried. “What are you doing here? You scared me half to death.”

“I doubt that,” Dan replied.

“Are you going to answer my question?”

He gave a casual shrug. “Wasn’t thinking of it.”

“Are you going to come in?”

He seemed to think for a few moments. “Do you think that’s wise?”

She rolled her eyes. “Right now, I think you’ve got a lot of explaining to do, starting with how you knew I was here and ending with why you were spying on me, but I’d rather you came inside first. Come around to the door and I’ll let you in.”

“I could just come through the window.”

She shook her head. “No way. The neighbours have already called the police on me once. I don’t want to have to explain that to them!”

He nodded once and disappeared in the direction of the back door. Trixie followed and had soon locked the door behind him.

“Well?” she prompted.

“Well what?”

Trixie made a frustrated growl. “Why are you here?”

He looked away from her, in spite of the gloom which already hid his expression. “Call it a hunch.”

“Okay, then, how did you even know I was here? And don’t evade the question!”

For a long moment, he did not answer. Then he asked, “What do you know about me?”

“Dan!” The exasperation was clear in Trixie’s voice. “Right now, I know that you’re really annoying.”

“Yeah, I guess I am.” He chuckled a little. “I’ll give you a clue to where I’m going with this. What was I before I knew you?”

“Unlucky. Alone. Misguided.”

“A criminal,” he corrected. “Let’s not gloss over it, Trix. I was the kind of guy that you were aiming to put behind bars.”

In the dark, her voice sounded small. “Well, I’m glad it didn’t end that way for you. I don’t think you deserved that.”

“You think?” His tone was incredulous. “Oh, I deserved it. No one knew what I’d done; you still don’t know.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

She could just hear him sigh. “Can we sit down?”

Trixie led the way to her makeshift bed and invited him to take an end. They both settled on it, with their feet still on the floor. Dan leaned back and let his elbows take some of his weight and Trixie mirrored his posture.

“It doesn’t ever really go away,” he explained, in a low, reflective voice. “I used to think that I was one of the good guys now and the past was all in the past, but it keeps on coming back and haunting me, again, and again, and again, until I just know that I’ll never get away from it.”

“Something’s happened, hasn’t it?” Her tone was matter-of-fact. She knew the answer, if not the particulars.

“A couple of weeks ago, I ran into a guy I knew back then. He’d been inside for a while. When he got out, he made a point of finding some of us and checking out our situations.” He paused. “This guy met Jim’s step-father in jail, and somehow made the connection between Jim and me. He told me something that Jonesy had apparently said.”

“Which was?”

“Not important right now.” He cut off her protest. “I’ll get back to that, okay? Anyway, I had to look into this thing to see if it was true and that’s when I found out about Jim buying this house. I tried to talk to Jim about it, but he didn’t want to know. And now I’m trying to keep you out of trouble – which I don’t expect to be easy.”

She narrowed her eyes, even though he couldn’t see her. “You’ve been spying on Jim.”

In spite of the darkness, she could see him shrug. “You could call it that.”

“And what was this thing? What did Jonesy say?”

A long silence ensued, finally broken by Dan. “I haven’t established if it’s true or not.”

“Maybe if you tell me, I could help.”

He shook his head. “I don’t want to… influence you. I don’t want this to skew your view of Jim, or his family, or the things that you’ve found out already.”

“I know Jim,” she argued. “And I know about the family he grew up in, as much as he’s willing to share. And as for what I’ve found out so far, it hardly amounts to anything. I’ve got a hint of someone who might have been related to Jim’s father, but that might not even be right either.”

He remained silent.

“You need to tell me.” Her voice was soft, persuasive. “If there’s danger that I might be walking into, don’t you think I should have all the facts?”

“It’s not like you’re going to take any notice,” he grumbled, almost inaudibly. “No one ever does.”

“How about if you let me decide for myself whether I’ll take notice,” she suggested, beginning to lose patience. “At least give me the benefit of the doubt.”

After a moment, he answered, “I don’t think it’s a coincidence that Jim bought this place now, at the same time as I heard the rumour about his family. I don’t think the guy who got the message to Jim was as entirely altruistic as he otherwise appears. I don’t think Jim will thank you for digging this up, if what I heard is even one-quarter truth. And I don’t think you’ll be able to let it go if I tell you, so maybe it’s better if I don’t.”

“But–”

“If you’re going to say that I shouldn’t have said this much if I was going to leave it there, you have a good point.” He made some small, unhappy sound. “The truth is, I’m tired of bearing this alone and I know I can trust you to keep it to yourself.”

“Of course.”

“The guy told me that Jonesy talked a lot, mostly about money he should’ve gotten but didn’t, and people who’d done him wrong – mostly Jim.” Dan shrugged. “It’s what you’d expect. Anyway, one of Jonesy’s major themes was to do with this house and how it should have made him his fortune, only he’d played it wrong and missed out.”

“That doesn’t sound too sinister so far,” Trixie mused. “As far as I can tell, everything Jonesy ever did was to try to make money, or make Jim miserable, or both.”

“Probably. So, he said that he’d bought the place from someone he knew who was dying – according to him, as a great act of charity – and then used it to help him marry the widow.”

Trixie nodded. “Most of that tallies with what Jim told me. Though, I can’t seem to picture Jonesy being charitable.”

“No. And it concerns me that Jonesy implied that it was Jim’s father who introduced him onto the scene.”

In the darkness, Trixie frowned. “Jim hasn’t ever told me how his mother met Jonesy, or why she married him. I’ve often wondered, but it seemed too insensitive to ask, even for me.”

“He told me once that Jonesy manoeuvred himself into a position where his mother thought she owed Jonesy something. I got the impression that the whole family knew Jonesy, before Jim’s father died, but that it was Jim’s mother who had the most to do with him.”

“I wouldn’t say this to Jim,” Trixie admitted, “but I sometimes wonder if his recollections are all that accurate. Or maybe it’s that I’m not understanding them accurately.”

“There sure was something strange about the whole situation.” Dan sounded thoughtful. “I just don’t know what to believe about it. Anyway, Jonesy apparently said that there was a terrible secret in the family, one that Jim would be horrified to discover, that would make him question everything he thought he knew about himself, and that it had to do with Jim’s father’s upbringing and parentage. He – Jonesy, I mean – was intending to make money out of it somehow, but he messed it up.”

“The lady I spoke to earlier today told me Jim’s father was raised by his maternal grandparents. Jim didn’t even know that.” She tapped her chin, thinking. “What if the story that she heard – that his parents were off doing some kind of charitable work overseas – wasn’t the truth?”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to find out,” he admitted. “I didn’t hear the story you heard, of course, but I’ve been working on finding out about Jim’s father’s parents and so far I’m coming up blank.”

“Well, maybe that’s what I should work on first, instead of the mysterious Aiden and Valerie King.”

“Who?”

“Didn’t I tell you that part?” She sighed and related the whole of her research to date, ending, “And when I got to that point, I was just about ready to give up. I have no idea how to find that guy.”

Dan was silent for a long time. “I don’t know that you should find him.”

“Why not? If the lady from over the back fence is right, he’s a relative of some kind.”

“A previously unknown relative. Someone you know nothing about, and who did nothing while Jim suffered with that bastard.” He made an unpleasant sound. “I don’t know that he’s any loss, and I can’t help thinking he might be a liability.”

“Why are you so opposed to this investigation?” Trixie asked him, bristling at the line he was taking. “Why can’t you trust me?”

Her friend swore under his breath. “It’s not that I don’t trust you, Trixie. It’s that I don’t think this is a secret that should be disturbed.”

“You said that already,” she grumbled, “and I still don’t see why my knowing all the details would hurt Jim. I don’t have to tell him anything earth-shattering, if I don’t think he’ll want to hear it.”

“But why did this information come to him in the first place?” Dan persisted. “What about whoever’s behind it? And what if they mean Jim harm?”

In the darkness, Trixie frowned. “I don’t even see how that works.”

“Well, neither do I, entirely,” Dan admitted, after a short pause. “But I think that there’s a fair chance we’re going to find out if you don’t drop it.”

“I’m not dropping it.”

“I thought you were going to say something like that.”

“Are you going to help me?” Hope laced her voice. “Because you know that Honey won’t come anywhere near this, after what you did to her last time – even if she wasn’t so busy.”

A long silence ensued.

“Okay.”

Trixie grinned. “Brilliant.”

Continue to part 2.