Part Five

A volley of knocks sounded at the door and Honey hurried to answer it. She peeked through the peep-hole to see her best friend in a state of agitation. Honey threw open the door and allowed her friend inside.

“I’ve been back to the library,” Trixie announced, shedding her coat onto the floor. “I think I have an idea of what happened.”

Honey baulked at her friend. “What? How, Trixie?”

Trixie held up a copy of a newspaper article. “It’s big – just over four feet across by almost six feet tall. I’d guess that it would probably be non-absorbent, for the purposes of soaking up blood. It went missing only a couple of weeks before Reynolds’ death and it’s never been seen since, even though the rest of the works stolen at the same time turned up outside the gallery they were stolen from a few weeks after his death.”

“Stolen artwork?” Honey asked, taking the page. “But why do you think this might be the answer?”

Her friend shrugged. “Why not? I figured that we were looking for something fairly flat, that could be moved or hidden easily. I went looking for something valuable that might have been stolen and that’s what I came up with. That might not be it, of course. Something that wasn’t valuable enough to have been written up in the paper might have been it, but I think this fits well. It would explain why Dinah didn’t call the police. If she found Reynolds dead beside a high-profile stolen painting, she might have panicked.”

“But what would she have done?” Honey wondered. “Do you think that she hid it?”

Trixie nodded. “I’m thinking that she hid this particular painting, because it was blood-stained, and that maybe she was the one who returned the rest of the stash, to stop the police connecting it to Reynolds.”

“Where are you thinking she might have hidden it? And, if there’s a connection, why didn’t the police at the time see it?”

“Well, there’s an easy explanation for the second question,” Trixie answered, shuffling the papers she held to display a different page. “All this time, they’ve thought that this painting was destroyed in a fire and that the person who set the fire returned the others. He wasn’t ever tried for arson or the theft, because he was ruled unfit to stand trial and locked up in a secure mental hospital, but he claimed for the rest of his life that he’d done it. There seems to have been some kind of supporting evidence to make the police believe him.”

“But if he didn’t steal them…” Honey trailed off, thinking hard.

“Maybe it was Reynolds, or some associate of his who stole the paintings,” Trixie continued. “Then, while he was doing something to the biggest one, he accidentally slashes his own throat. The back of the painting catches most of the blood-splatter. Dinah arrives and finds him dead next to it and the other paintings sitting around the house. So, she gets the other paintings out of the house somehow, but what does she do with the one that’s all covered in blood?”

“What do you think she’d do, Trixie?”

Her friend considered for a few moments. “I think, maybe, she’d cut it out of its frame so that it would be easier to hide. I don’t know whether she’d risk taking it away anywhere, but where could she have hidden it in the house that the police wouldn’t have found?”

Honey frowned. “It depends how hard they searched. I doubt that they’d look under the floorboards or inside the walls if there was no indication that that would get them anywhere. But how would Dinah have gotten the painting into any of those kinds of places?”

“I’m thinking that’s why she needed an accomplice,” Trixie answered, her eyes shining. “That, or to take the other paintings away from the scene and hide them somewhere. It could explain why Dan was there.”

For a moment, Honey considered the idea. “I guess so. If Dinah asked Dan’s mother for help, but she had no one to leave him with while she did it. It all comes down to the relationship between Dinah and Dan’s mother, though, and I can’t see any way that we can find out what that was.”

“Neither can I.” Trixie sighed. “We’ve ruled out just about any possible connection that we’d actually be able to prove. And I can’t think of any way of searching the house, other than by buying it – and I really don’t want to go that far.”

Honey shook her head. “Well, maybe it’s time to turn it over to the police. I’m running out of ideas on what else we can do.”

“It’s a good idea,” Trixie mused. “I think we might just have one last try, though. Let’s go to the gallery that was robbed first and take a look around. It’s not all that far from here, still in the same place it was back then, and it wouldn’t delay us all that much.”

Honey agreed to the plan and the pair set off. They arrived without incident and went inside the gallery, wandering around until they found one of the paintings that had been stolen.

“Here!” Trixie whispered, leaning closer to her friend. She pulled out the newspaper article and compared the artist and title. “This is one of them. It’s one of the more valuable pieces stolen, even though it’s not very big.”

“It’s lovely,” Honey noted, “but I don’t see how this helps us.”

Her friend shrugged, glancing over her shoulder in an uneasy manner. “There are some other works named in this article. Let’s see if we can find any of them.”

“They may have been sold in the meantime,” Honey pointed out. “Or, they may not be on display. It’s a long time ago; I’m sure a lot has changed.”

Trixie was not at all daunted, however, and was soon combing the gallery for the other paintings. She found one of them, but after a fairly exhaustive search concluded that the others were no longer there. They returned to the second painting and contemplated it for a time.

“It’s not very large, either.” Honey took a step back to compare it to other works nearby. “In fact, it’s one of the smallest ones I’ve seen here, I think.”

“But worth more than a lot of the others,” Trixie added. “I think that whoever stole them knew what they were doing. The newspaper reports practically said so.”

“And they gave whoever brought them back an easier job, too. Small paintings would be easier to hide and to transport. I wonder where they did hide them, between taking them from the house and returning them to the gallery?”

Trixie shushed her friend, but it was too late. “That man was listening in,” she whispered. “He’s acting like he hasn’t even noticed us, but I get the feeling he’s watching us. I think he’s been following us.”

Honey’s eyes widened. “Why do you think that?”

“I’ve been seeing him everywhere,” Trixie answered, “and it’s not as if we’ve been walking around in a logical fashion, or stopping to look at the paintings – we’ve been all over the place and he’s always been there.”

Honey thought for a moment. “Do you think he saw the newspaper article you had out before?”

Trixie shrugged. “Probably. I wonder who he is?”

“He looks very respectable. Maybe he works here and suspects that we’re up to no good and he’s just keeping an eye on us.” Honey shivered. “You’re right: he’s definitely watching us – and he’s looking at the paper that’s poking out of your pocket.”

Her friend turned sharply and walked away, dragging Honey with her. “We’re getting out of here,” she whispered, quickening her pace. “There’s something funny about this situation and I don’t like it.”

They had almost reached the exit when another well-dressed man stepped in front of them. “Not leaving so soon, are we?” he asked, in an oily voice.

“I’m sorry, but we’ve remembered a prior engagement,” Honey told him, smiling as she tried to step past him. “Please excuse us.”

The first man was right behind them, cutting them off from the possibility of retreat. A predatory gleam appeared in the eyes of the man in front of them.

“Oh! Just look what that man’s doing!” Trixie cried, pointing to something on the left. As the two men turned, she tugged Honey’s arm to the right and dragged her outside. They took off at a run, soon ducking around a corner and into the first store they came across.

“I can’t believe that actually worked,” Honey told her friend in a shaky voice as she pretended to examine some merchandise. “It’s such an old trick and for both of them to fall for it…”

Trixie shrugged and grinned. “I thought it was worth a try. I was starting to feel pretty uncomfortable there.”

“What do you think they wanted?”

There was a pause as the other woman considered. “I don’t know. It does seem kind of strange that anyone would be interested in the burglary after all this time, especially since all but one of the paintings was returned.”

“Unless they were interested in the one that wasn’t returned.” Honey frowned. “But then, they would need to know that the man who claimed he’d committed the crime hadn’t actually committed the crime, and to have not said so at the time, which you would think would be unlikely for those two, wouldn’t you?”

“Definitely,” Trixie agreed. “How do you think we could find out who they were?”

Honey considered. “I’ll see if I can find out anything about the gallery. Maybe they’re connected to it in some way.”

“That’s a good idea. The other thing we need to do is try to stop them from finding out who we are.”

Honey cringed. “I shouldn’t have gone there with you, should I? One of them might even have recognised me – it’s happened before, and usually when you least want it to.”

“Well, don’t let them follow you home,” Trixie answered. “Finding out who you are won’t tell them where you live; finding out who I am is a whole lot more tricky. We’re going to both have to be really careful with this. I don’t think we should let them know anything more about us than we can help.”

With a nod, Honey agreed. She peeked out through the shop window. “I don’t see anyone watching. Should we go now?”

Trixie shook her head. “Give it a little longer. Do you see anything in here you’d like to look at?”

At that, Honey resigned herself to a long evening of running around. It would be a long time before it was safe to go home.

The next day, Honey set about some research on the gallery, beginning with a telephone call to her father’s personal assistant. She soon found out from that source that her father had not had any dealings with the gallery in the past. Considering that line of enquiry a wash-out, she started looking for other sources of information. She was about to make another call when the phone rang. Answering it, she found that her father’s personal assistant had called her back.

“I’m glad to have caught you,” the other woman explained. “After we finished speaking, I remembered something that I thought might help you. It’s true that your father has not dealt with that particular gallery, but there is another gallery he has had dealings with. I just checked and they’re managed by the same man.”

“Is there anything you can tell me about him?” Honey asked politely.

“Not much, but it might help you get started. His name is Absalom Kirk and he’s been in the gallery business for a good twenty-five years. If you want a picture of him, I have one here on a brochure we have on file.”

“That would be wonderful,” Honey replied. “I’ll be over sometime later today to look at it, if that’s okay?”

“Fine,” the assistant replied. “I’ll be here for my usual hours.”

The conversation concluded and Honey hurried to her father’s office. It took her quite some time and she was feeling impatient to find out what the man looked like. She greeted the woman and smiled as she was handed a thin folder.

“I’ll need that back, of course, and I’d rather it didn’t leave the executive suite, but I can copy anything you need.” The assistant smiled. “Take your time, though, and you can use the conference room – it won’t be needed again this afternoon.”

Honey thanked her and took the folder. Inside the conference room, she sat down at the table and started studying the contents. She soon found the brochure and held her breath as she flipped it over to see the photograph. Her breath rushed out in a huff and she stared for a long moment at the smiling face of the man who had followed them. The glowing account of him which was printed underneath also mentioned that he had returned to the gallery after an absence of many years, in which he had gained various wonderful experiences. From that vague reference, it seemed likely that he had worked at the gallery at around the time of the theft, but in a junior capacity.

Closing her eyes, Honey wondered for a moment what it all meant before turning back to the brochure. She read it through, not finding anything of interest, before checking the rest of the file. Another brochure in the file advertised another gallery and she glanced through it for the sake of completeness. She stopped short to find a photograph of the second man who had spoken to them, learning from it that his name was Hiram Kirk.

Honey raised an eyebrow, noting the fact that the two shared a surname and were in the same business. She wondered whether it would be difficult to find out more about them. A few minutes later, she closed the file, having learned little else of use. She returned it, asked for and received copies of the two brochures, and strolled out of the building, lost in thought.

The first thing that she wanted to do was to run this new information past Trixie, but she wondered whether that was the most efficient way forward. Perhaps it would be better to at least look at the other gallery first, or to try to find out something more about the two men. Honey wavered in indecision for a few minutes, unable to make up her mind. Then, a sudden thought gave her an idea. She made a quick telephone call to her friend Diana.

“I was wondering if you could tell me anything about some art galleries,” she asked, after they had exchanged greetings. “I mean, I know that you aren’t studying art any more, but you’re still interested, aren’t you? And I want to know about a couple, and about the men who run them and I couldn’t think of anyone who is more likely to be able to tell me.”

“I might be able to,” Di answered. “Which ones are they, and what are the men’s names?”

Honey gave her the information, adding also the street addresses and a few details she had gathered.

“You’re in luck, Honey. As it happens, I’ve met both of those men – Daddy has had dealings with Absalom Kirk and I met the other man, who is his brother, at the same time. I’ve been to both of the galleries, too. They have some beautiful works. I know that Daddy had someone do some research on them before he would have anything to do with them. They’re both very respectable, very knowledgeable. They’ve both been in the business for a long time, too, so they’re very well-established.”

Honey sighed. “That makes less and less sense.”

“You mean, it doesn’t help?” Di sounded upset.

“No, no,” Honey hurried to clarify. “It helps, it really does. It just doesn’t fit in with what I thought I knew. I was kind of expecting that they’d be a little bit shady. But if they’re as respectable as all that, then maybe we’re mistaken.”

“Okay,” Di answered, speaking slowly. “Is there anything else I can help you with?”

“Not at the moment. Thank you so much, Di. I’ll come around and tell you the whole story sometime, maybe when I’ve got it so that it makes sense.”

Her friend laughed. “That would be great – but only if it does make sense. I don’t think I’ve got a mind for mysteries at the moment.”

With a few more words, the pair ended the call and Honey sat down to think things through. If what Di told her was correct, then it seemed most likely that they were mistaken about the two men who had seemed to threaten them. In that case, there was no harm in going to look at the other gallery and she might as well do that right away, before she bothered Trixie with what she had found.

That decided, she set off on foot. It was not far from where she was and only took ten minutes to walk there. She slowed her steps as she approached, looking around carefully for anyone suspicious, just in case. She was just about to approach the door, when a man stepped out. Honey’s breath caught, as she recognised him to be the man who had been behind her at the other gallery, Hiram Kirk.

She turned away, walking at a rapid pace in the direction from which she had approached. She had covered two blocks when a glance at the shiny shop windows opposite revealed his reflection as he walked behind her. Thinking hard, she took an opportunity to cross the street and doubled back. She took care to walk close to the buildings, behind a crowd of people, as she passed opposite him, but Kirk was scanning the crowd and picked her out. He darted between honking cars to approach her.

Honey knew then that he had seen her and that she was in trouble. She cast around, looking for somewhere familiar to go, when she saw something that caused the wild beating of her heart to ease a little: two police officers in uniform were standing on a nearby corner. She walked towards them, stopping just beyond where they stood and turning to see her pursuer’s reaction. The man eyed her for a few moments, before slipping into the crowd.

In spite of this, Honey was not going to take any chances. She stayed close to the two police officers while she made a call from her cell phone to Dan, asking him to come and collect her, and followed them when they walked away, staying near them until he found her.

“What did you think you were doing?” he demanded, fifteen minutes later, when they met. “I thought this was a safe thing for you do. Why is it that I’m having to come and get you when you’re investigating something so old?”

Honey grasped his hand and did not answer at once. “I think we made a mistake,” she admitted. “We didn’t really think anyone would still be interested in this, since it happened so long ago, but it looks like we’ve come across something that no one at the time suspected, and the people responsible are just a tiny bit desperate to stop anyone else finding out about it.”

Dan shook his head as he escorted her down the street. “How can you be just a tiny bit desperate? Either you’re desperate, or you’re not.”

“Okay, so they’re desperate,” Honey answered. “And it’s time that we let the police handle it. I’m going to call Jack as soon as I get home, okay? I’m not having anything more to do with this part of the investigation.”

He nodded his agreement and steered her across the street, in the opposite direction to where they lived. Honey sighed in reluctant acceptance of her fate: it seemed that Dan and Trixie were on the same page regarding being followed home. It was going to be another long night.

When they finally arrived home, it was to find Trixie on their doorstep.

“Where on earth have you been?” she demanded. “I’ve been waiting hours.”

Dan’s face was grim. “Honey’s been tailed by one of those men you’re investigating. We’ve been making sure he didn’t follow us home.”

Their friend’s expression turned thoughtful as Honey opened the door and ushered them inside and launched into an account of her activities.

“That’s not good,” Trixie commented, grimacing. “I think the problem here is that we’ve overlooked the fact that even though they’re well-known and respectable now, when this happened they were young and obscure – and probably very ambitious. And now that they are so respectable, they’re going to want to stay that way at any cost. I’m pretty sure Jim’s not going to be happy about this, if he ever hears about it. Take my advice: don’t be the one to tell him that we’ve been in danger.”

Dan let out a growl in reply, but did not comment further.

“What are we going to do about this, Trixie?” Honey asked, ignoring her boyfriend’s displeasure. “I don’t think we can go any further by ourselves. I really want to drop it and tell the police.”

Her friend nodded. “I think we’re going to have to, but I’m wondering how we’re going to get them to believe us. Do you think Jack Higgins would help us with that?”

“I’ll call him and ask,” Honey promised. “And I want to tell him the idea we had about Veivers suicide being a clue to what happened to the blade. Maybe he can find out some more about that, too.”

Trixie nodded. “That’s a good idea. Are you going to do it now?”

Honey glanced at her watch. “Yes, I will. I just hope he’s there – it would be terrible to have to wait, now that we’ve come this far.”

She picked up the phone and dialled, but no one answered.

“You’ll keep trying?” Trixie asked, as her friend put down the receiver in disappointment.

“Of course,” Honey answered. “I’m not leaving the apartment again until he knows.”

Trixie nodded and the three discussed other matters for some time. By the time it was too late to politely call, and Trixie had returned home, they still had not managed to speak to the retired detective.

The next morning, Honey continued her attempt to make the call and reached him on her first try. When she explained what they had, Jack Higgins offered to make the tip-off himself, without her having to ask. She was not sure whether it was because he wanted to keep her out of it, or if he thought he had more credibility, or if he wanted the credit, or for some other reason, but she was grateful nonetheless. Once the call was made, however, she was relegated to the role of waiting for the next thing to happen. It was a tense couple of days before she saw or heard anything new and when that time came, it was something of a shock. Dan had left the television on, but neither of them were particularly watching it, when something being said about an art scandal caught her attention.

Honey sank down onto a chair to watch the news report. Her hand went to her mouth as she saw footage of the arrests of the two men who had been following her. Next, the images changed and she recognised the house she had at one time wanted to buy and saw the footage of police officers carrying objects out of it that were wrapped in plastic as the first snow of the season fell. She barely registered the voice-over of the reporter, detailing the arrests of the operators of two prominent art galleries, the discovery of a stolen painting and the parts of its frame inside the walls of the house, and the links to a long-unexplained death. Dan entered the room and she pointed to the screen.

“Trixie was right! They’ve found the missing painting in that house. It was pushed down from the ceiling cavity into one of the walls and the insulation replaced over the top.” She shuddered. “They didn’t actually say it on the news, but since they say they’re re-examining the Reynolds case, I think it’s fairly safe to say that there was blood on it.”

“So, what does this mean for me?” Dan wondered. “Why was I there?”

Honey looked at him with compassion. “Well, that’s the thing. Trixie’s theory is that Dinah called someone to help her hide the painting, or to take the other paintings away, or both. If she’s right, then whoever took you there did at least one of those things for her. The most likely person we can think for the unknown person to be is your mother.”

Dan looked away. “I can’t help wondering who Dinah was. Could she have been related to me somehow?”

His girlfriend gave a helpless shrug. “We just don’t know. We’ve done everything we can think of to find out, but there just aren’t any leads left, that I can see.”

His shoulders slumped. “I haven’t ever given it much thought, but I could have other family out there – on my Dad’s side. Maybe they’ve been looking for me all these years.”

“I’ll do anything I can to help you,” Honey promised. “Whatever else is happening, if that clue comes up, I’ll do anything I can to follow it.”

“Thanks, Honey.” He leaned in and kissed her. “For now, you and Uncle Bill and the Bob-Whites will be family enough for me.”

She smiled and kissed him. “Thank you for putting me first in that list.”

“Always,” he answered. “You are the most important person to me.”

With the investigation at a standstill, Honey pushed it out of her mind and tried to get on with her work. She had dedicated so much time to the problem that her next novel was not as far advanced as she would have liked. She sat in the section of the living room that functioned as her office, working away.

The telephone rang and she answered it, almost without thinking.

“Is that you, Wheeler? Nice job,” Higgins greeted.

“Thank you, Jack,” she answered, “but it was mostly my friend, Trixie. She’s the one who put two and two together about the stolen artwork.” She sighed. “We never did find out the relationship between Dan and Dinah, though.”

“You can’t win ’em all,” he replied. “You got a whole lot further on this case than two teams of professionals. I think that’s something to be proud of. And you never know: the one clue you need to fit the last bit together may still be out there somewhere and one day it will just drop into your lap.”

“I hope so.”

“One other thing. Strictly off the record, you understand?” His voice took on a conspiratorial note. “A little birdie told me that you were right about Veivers. That theory you and your friend came up with was right on the money – before they searched the house, they went through the records concerning his death. When they got there, they did a little bit of lateral thinking and found the place where he’d hidden the knife. I can’t tell you where it was, but I think you can guess. Big, curved thing; lost its edge over the years, but they think it must have been wickedly sharp. They’re going to close the case – accidental death. But, I was right all along about Veivers taking the blade. Pity he’s dead now and they can’t prove it.”

Honey drew in a breath. “Thanks for that – though, if he wasn’t dead, we’d never have had that theory.”

“You’ve got a good point there.” She could hear the smile in his voice. “And if ever you and your friend want to get into the detective game, let me know and I’ll give you some pointers. You’ve both got potential, I reckon.”

“Thank you,” she replied, touched. “We did think about it seriously when we were younger, but things changed. Maybe we’ll pick up that dream again one day.”

“You let me know if you do,” he replied and they said their goodbyes.

When she had finished the call, Honey looked up to see Dan watching her. She held out a hand to him, urging him closer and they sat together on the sofa while she related what she had just learned.

“So, that’s it, then,” Dan commented, with a sigh. “For whatever reason, which we have no way of determining, my mother took me to that house to help Dinah Veivers dispose of the evidence of the robbery. I don’t think I ever would have guessed that she’d do something like that, but maybe I didn’t know her as well as I thought I did. It makes me wonder what it was all about; whether she might have been family of some kind.”

“I’m sorry that I couldn’t find out the answers,” she told him, while tucking her head under his chin. “I just can’t think how to go any further and neither can Trixie.”

“It’s all right,” he whispered. “When I told you that the family I have is enough, I actually meant it. And there’s nothing to say that there was any family relationship there at all. They might have just been friends.”

“I guess that’s probably the answer, but if it is, we’ll probably never know.” She sighed and snuggled closer. “So, are we all right, now?”

He nodded. “I think so. I won’t pretend that I don’t want more from you, but I’m willing to wait.”

“You might be waiting a long time,” she told him, in a small voice.

“Well, I can’t say I didn’t know that going into this relationship,” he answered, giving her a squeeze. “We’ll take one day at a time.”

A few months later

“I’ve really found it this time,” Honey enthused on the way in the apartment door, as she pulled off her scarf and hat, “and if you say one word about an unsolved crime in my perfect house this time, Daniel Mangan, there is going to be trouble and I don’t mean the board game.”

Dan held up his hands. “I just call ’em as I see ’em. I can’t help it if you picked the wrong house last time.”

Honey put her hands on her hips and glared at him, but soon relented enough to kiss him hello and wrap her arms around his waist. “I’m grateful, really,” she admitted. “I’m so glad you picked up on that, Dan. I can’t think what I would have done if I’d found out after we’d moved in. I could never stay in a house where such a horrible death had occurred. And I really want your input again this time, just in case I’ve got it wrong again.”

He shook his head. “I’m pretty sure that was the only place where I would have been able to do that – at least, I sure hope so.”

Her expression softened and she tightened her embrace. “I’m sure it is, Dan. I’m sure that it was one of those things that might happen once in a lifetime, but probably don’t, and wouldn’t happen more than once, unless, of course, you were living that kind of life, but I’m sure that your parents weren’t, and so they wouldn’t. Experience it more than once, I mean.”

By the end of her little speech, Dan was laughing. “Well, that’s a comfort for sure. I’ll bear that in mind in those dark moments in the night when the past is threatening to come and get me.”

“Does it?” she asked, her voice full of concern. “Does it threaten to come back?”

Dan lifted a shoulder by a fraction of an inch. “Sometimes. In the dark. Alone. Then, I remember and it’s all right.”

The End