*Adult themes: mild violence, single expletive

I’ve been enjoying everyone else’s fanfic and, then, egads, the bug bit me too! I got an idea for a story one night and, quite naturally, couldn’t sleep the rest of the night as the story line begin to develop! So, here goes! Oh yeah, I think I know the spiel—these wonderful souls do not belong to me but to the gods of the publishing world. I am checking them out for only a short time. See, here’s my library card and the due date stamp. They will be returned on time or I promise I will pay the overdue fines! I am not making any money off these lovely creatures; quite the opposite!

 

Mystery in the Heart of Dixie

by Diann

Chapter 1

A million thoughts ran through Trixie’s mind while she stared out the window of the airplane as it streaked across the blue southern skies. She suppressed a shriek as she felt a hand touch her arm. "Oh jeez, Honey! It’s a good thing I had on my seat belt or I would have launched myself right into the overhead bin!"

Trixie’s best friend since their early teens and now business partner laughed. "Sorry about that, Trix!"

Trixie took a deep breath and replied, "You know I still can’t believe it. The Belden-Wheeler Detective Agency is for real now. I know we always planned it when we were growing up but how many people can say that they actually realized their lifelong dream, especially by the age of 25."

Honey smiled fondly at the person who had dramatically changed her life. "Really! And look at us now! On our way to Alabama’s state capital at the request of the Governor! Obviously there’s some situation he wants investigated, but the first mystery we need to solve is what does he want and why us?"

Trixie nodded vigorously in agreement, her sandy blond curls bouncing in rhythm. "Get out the letter, Honey, and let’s go over it one more time. I don’t think we’ll glean any thing new but we might have missed something the first 100 times we read it."

"Glean?" Honey said laughingly. "Don’t tell me that Mart’s erudite use of the English language has finally rubbed off on you!"

Trixie shot her friend a feigned contemptuous look. "Well, I don’t know about arrowrood—er, airwoodite—oh, what the heck! I know Mart’s got airs and he is sometimes rude!"

Both young women laughed heartily, drawing looks from the middle-aged couple across the aisle.

"Well, you girls seem to be having a great time! Are you coming to Alabama for a vacation?" inquired the gentleman.

Honey smiled politely and said, "No sir, not this time. I’m Honey Wheeler and this is Trixie Belden. Actually we’re on a business trip. But if we have some spare time, we want to take in some sites around the area. Do you have any suggestions?"

His eyes twinkled and his wife broke into a wide grin. "I believe I can help you with that! Let me introduce myself—I’m Rueben Mills and this is my wife Sharon. I’m the Director of the Montgomery Visitors Center and Sharon is co-owner of one of the area’s leading golf courses. I think we can come up with a few things for you to do!"

As he spoke, Mrs. Mills handed him a plastic package and said to him, "Here Rueben, hand this to the girls" and to Honey and Trixie, "We keep several visitors’ information packages with us at all times. There’s brochures on many places of interest in the area, including the Shakespeare Theatre, art museum, Jasmine Hills Gardens, our first class zoo, several of the shopping malls, and, of course, The Pines Golf Club. Our business cards with our phone numbers are also inside."

"Oh, thank you so much," Honey said. "Shakespeare Theatre—I’m definitely interested in that. What is..ouch!"

Trixie had nudged Honey in the side and whispered in her ear, "Later, Miss Fine Arts! We’ve got some things to discuss."

"Oh, uh—thanks, Mr. and Mrs. Mills. We’ll look these over and give you a call if we have questions."

"You be sure and do that," Mr. Mills replied and returned to reading his golf magazine.

"Sorry about that, Trix! Déjà vu all over again. Haven’t I already said that once today? You know I go positively nuts over Shakespeare," Honey said, her hazel eyes going dreamy.

Trixie rolled her own blue eyes in response. "Don’t I know it, but now we’ve got business to handle."

After Honey placed the information packet into her attractive ivory leather briefcase, she reached into another pocket and withdrew a folder marked "Client: Cleveland R. Patman, Governor, State of Alabama."

Honey pulled out the single sheet of paper contained in the folder. Both she and Trixie looked somewhat in awe of the handsome burgundy letterhead that carried the State of Alabama Coat of Arms and words "Office of the Governor" emblazoned underneath. Even though the letter had been read many times since they had received it the week before, each time brought a sense of wonder at how and why someone as prestigious as the governor of a state would need their services and, even more so, how he knew of their agency in the small town of Sleepyside, New York. Two pair of questioned-filled eyes read the handwritten letter one more time:

April 5, 1999

Dear Miss Belden and Miss Wheeler:

I’m sure that you are no doubt surprised by the letter and are probably questioning its legitimacy. Let me assure you this is real and not a joke. Miss Wheeler, you can contact our mutual friend, U. S. Congressman Douglas McKenzie, and he will confirm the authenticity of this letter.

To get right to the point, I am in need of some outside help to investigate a matter that is most urgent to the well being of my state and its citizens. I do not wish to go into specifics in this communication. I believe you will understand why when we discuss this matter privately--that is, if you are interested and agree to come. In anticipation of your agreement, I have enclosed two tickets from New York City to Montgomery, Alabama, and my personal check in the amount of $3,000 to cover any initial expenses you may incur. The remainder of your fees can be discussed after you arrive.

My Chief of Security, Thomas Farley, will meet you at the airport.

Yours truly,

Cleve Patman

Underneath the Governor’s signature was a peculiar hand-drawn symbol that looked like three-quarters of a circle with the bottom quarter missing. Inside the arc were two round objects that resembled eyes.

Honey looked at Trixie questioningly. "Anything new leap out at you?"

"Nope," said Trixie. "Unless I’m way off base, I don’t believe there’s a clue hidden here—except possibly that odd drawing at the end. For now, I’m just going to assume that’s some type of club or political emblem commonly associated with Governor Patman that we in the eastern part of the country are unfamiliar with. Tell me again your conversation with Congressman McKenzie after you faxed him a copy of the letter."

Honey shrugged her shoulders. "It was rather short and to the point, like I said before. Mr. McKenzie was very gracious but late for an important roll call vote. When I asked him if he thought the letter was authentic, he responded, ‘Absolutely, no question about it.’ He then asked me to give his best to Mom and Dad, apologized for not being able to chat longer, and hung up."

 

Chapter 2

Each of the young ladies lapsed into silent thoughts of her own. The drone of the jet’s engines and the soft whoosh of the air conditioning soon had Trixie in the la-la land where you’re not quite sure if you’re still awake or asleep. Her thoughts--or dreams--drifted back to the time when she and Honey first met. Trixie had given up hope that her family on Crabapple Farm would ever have any neighbors at the stately Manor House, especially not a family with someone her own age. Then the Wheeler family purchased the estate and Honey Wheeler and Trixie Belden forged a deep friendship that had withstood the test of time. However, it was not without some rough edges. Honey was a sickly, lonely child, who had grown up in boarding schools and without the nurturing and support of a close-knit family as Trixie had. When they first met, Honey would have fainted at the sight of blood on a scraped knee. Now, she was a regular bloodhound herself.

Their first mystery occurred not long after they met, when they found Jim Frayne, who had run away from a cruel stepfather. Later, Mr. and Mrs. Wheeler adopted Jim, giving Honey something she had always dreamed of—a wonderful older brother. Trixie, Honey, and Jim, along with Trixie’s older brothers, Brian and Mart (Trixie’s almost twin), and their friends Diana Lynch and Dan Mangan formed a semi-secret club called the Bob-Whites of the Glen. The official mission of the club was to help others in whatever way they could, from helping those less fortunate than themselves, to raising money for various charities and school projects, to finding the missing children for a young couple who lived in their area. The unspoken purpose of the club was to have fun—and what adventures they experienced!

I guess we’ve all been lucky in realizing our dreams, thought Trixie. Brian had always wanted to be a doctor. And now, here he was, Captain Brian Belden, M.D., U. S. Air Force, stationed at Keesler Air Force Base near Biloxi, Mississippi. During medical school he had been unable to decide which specialty field to follow: orthopedics or pediatrics. But the day he saved the life of a three-year-old boy by correctly diagnosing a rare viral infection, he knew his calling was with children.

Di had always been the artsy one, having won several local and state art competitions. She was now fulfilling her dream by studying in Paris with the world-renowned artist, Madame Liselle Tourant. She had made contact with the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York City and the prospects of a job as an associate in the American Modern Art Section were excellent. She could, of course, have the job of her choice at the art museum in Sleepyside, which had been sponsored and opened by her father, but the spirit of self-dependency Di had learned as a Bob-White made that an option she would not consider.

Nobody had worked harder or more fiercely than Jim had to reach his goal of opening a school with a camp-like atmosphere for orphaned boys. His own experiences had taught him the value of family, friends, and self-reliance and his determination in providing those opportunities to others grew stronger with each passing year. With his father’s advice and encouragement on investments and real estate, he had been able to take his inheritance money plus its interest earnings and purchase land adjacent to the Ten Acres estate he had also inherited and build his school. His school had already won recognition and grant money from the National Association of Social Workers and from the U.S. Department of Education.

Of course, thoughts of Jim always brought a smile to Trixie’s face and a warm glow to her being, just as they did now. They had always shared a special bond but in their younger days did not know how to handle those feelings. Now that they were older and more settled, maybe—just maybe…..

The remaining two members of the BWGs were also in their chosen fields. Mart had received scholarship offers from several prestigious universities to study English and Literature. UCLA had even offered him the opportunity for a Master’s degree, then a PhD, if he would agree to stay and teach. Even with his love of words, Mart’s first love had always been in the field of agriculture and he'd chosen to attend college near his home. After he graduated with honors from Arlington University, Mart started a consulting business that specialized in helping young farmers begin their businesses, teaching them the latest in crop development and pest control, and providing information on how to apply for federal assistance money. Sometimes Mart felt as though he could use the assistance money to pay his own bills since his venture did not exactly put him in a high tax bracket. But his reward came from the glowing looks on his clients’ faces as they reaped their first harvest.

Dan, too, was in his chosen field, although not in the capacity in which he had set out to be. After finishing at the top of his class at the New York State Police Academy, Dan had his choice of several offers, including special aide to the Police Chief of Trenton, New Jersey. The one he chose, however, would keep him close to his home with Mr. Maypenny in the Wheelers’ game preserve and his Uncle Bill Regan, who was the Wheelers’ groom and a special friend to all the Bob-Whites. His choice was to be the drug enforcement officer for Area 15, based out of White Plains, for the New York Drug and Alcohol Control Board. Dan quickly won statewide recognition for finding and arresting members of a drug ring that had been a major supplier of drugs to local schools, even to students at the Sleepyside Elementary School. Things took a shocking turn when, after the trial that convicted the members of the gang, Dan was shot down on the steps of the courthouse. He survived the attack but permanent leg damage left him unable to perform the duties needed of his job. Dan found himself slipping into a deep depression, but the support and encouragement of all his friends, Mr. Maypenny, and Uncle Bill brought him back. In a just a few weeks, he would be receiving a Masters of Science degree in Forensic Pathology from NYU and had already been offered a job with the FBI’s training center at Quantico.

Black and purple clouds swirled through Trixie’s mind. A flash of bright light from a diamond in the eye of a large stone statue cleared the air and Trixie found herself on the edge of a shimmering blue-green lake surrounded by towering spruce trees whose branches seemed to be on fire but yet not burning. She knelt down in the dew-covered grass and peered into the water. Swimming underneath the surface were Susie, the mare from the Wheelers’ stables that she considered as her own, wearing a black jacket, and Jim’s dog Patch, who had a string of emeralds around his neck. That’s odd, Trixie’s inner voice spoke. Patch died several years ago. I remember how sad everyone was and how Jim fought back the tears until he thought no one could see him. Following the two animals were a curious array of objects, including white fish with no eyes, huge grasshoppers with the word "Robin" written on their sides, and stick men carrying birds that appeared to be bob-white quail.

Bing! Bing! Bing! "Good afternoon, passengers! Captain Sherman has turned on the Fasten Seat Belt sign as we make our approach for landing. Please make sure that your seat backs are in their full upright positions, that tray tables are shut and locked, and that your seat belts are securely fastened."

Whoa, Trixie thought. What a strange dream. First I’m down by the lake with all those odd creatures and then I’m in an airplane. As Trixie shook the cobwebs from her head, she realized the part about the airplane was no dream. She cracked open her eyes and blinked as the sun glared off the jet’s wing. She looked down on the pastoral land below. On neat tracks of land with farmhouses and barns, she could make out what looked like tiny cattle grazing in the pastures with miniature tractors plowing nearby fields—Looks like the farm community near our own Crabapple Farm. But that can’t be right.

"Ladies and gentlemen, this is Captain Sherman. We are about to land in Montgomery, Alabama. We hope you enjoyed today’s flight and will think of Safeway Airlines for your next trip. Have a pleasant day!"

Those words jolted Trixie back to reality in a flash. I hope Honey’s stomach is doing better than mine. I think I’ve got more butterflies than Moms’ flower garden in the spring. She looked over at Honey with what Trixie hoped was a display of confidence. "Well, partner, this is it! The first major case for the Belden-Wheeler Detective Agency! Let’s wish ourselves luck."

Honey smiled back and wordlessly took Trixie by the hand. They held on tightly to each other as the plane touched down to a new state and a new mystery.

 

Chapter 3

Trixie and Honey stepped out of the jetway and into the cool waiting area at Montgomery Regional Airport, as they tried to get their "land legs" operational. Both scanned the area for their first point of contact, Thomas Farley, Governor Patman’s Chief of Security.

"I thought maybe someone would be holding a sign with our names on it. I don’t see anyone. What do you think we should do?" Trixie fretted and, just for the briefest of moments, questioned their sanity about coming.

"From the tones of his letter, I think Governor Patman wants to keep things low key so a big old sign might bring too much attention to our arrival," Honey responded in her common-sense way. "But I think I just found our answer."

Trixie’s eyes turned in the direction that Honey had just nodded to. A slender dark-headed man of about thirty wearing a charcoal gray suit was talking towards them. With every step his darting eyes scanned the area, taking in every detail. He abruptly halted his long strides as he spotted someone dressed as a maintenance worker remove a shiny tubular object from a package and turn their way. Trixie and Honey held their collective breaths as their would-be greeter slid his hand beneath his coat.

Then, just as quickly as it started, the "trouble" was over—it really was a maintenance worker with a piece of aluminum pipe with which he began to fix a broken water fountain! A look of relief spread across their faces, including the person they believed to be Thomas Farley.

"Whew! My imagination is working overtime these days! Aluminum pipes that look like .44 magnums! I’m Tom Farley and I hope you ladies are Miss Belden and Miss Wheeler," he stated with a slight question mark in his tone.

Trixie and Honey giggled. Trixie held out her hand. "That would be us, Mr. Farley, but please, just Trixie and Honey. That may not be correct for the more prim and proper of the business world, but we haven’t gotten to that stage yet!"

He warmly grasped Trixie’s hand and then shook Honey’s outstretched hand. "Same goes here, Trixie. I’m just Tom. I still can’t used to the Mr. Farley thing. Whenever someone says it, I look around for my Dad!" Both girls laughed and felt immediately safe and comfortable with Tom as they begin to walk across the room. "The ladies' room is here. Why don’t you give me your baggage claim checks ‘cause I know how you gals are about wanting to ‘freshen up.’ The exit is at the end of this hallway. Just meet me outside on the walkway."

"Thanks, Tom!" both girls chorused.

"You bet," he replied. "See you in a few."

*      *      *

The girls languidly stretched their legs out in front of them as they sat on a bench outside the airport’s main entrance waiting for Tom to arrive. Honey leaned back and contentedly closed her eyes. "Boy, this weather sure is nice."

An airport gauge indicated a very pleasant 75 degrees with a slight southerly breeze of 5 mph. "Really," agreed Trixie. "Not at all what I expected."

"And just what did you expect?" Trixie jumped at the sound of the sound of a man’s voice beside her. She looked up at the stern face of Mr. Mills.

"Oh, I, uh…," Trixie stammered.

"Oh, Rueben, stop it," Mrs. Mills said as she playfully poked her husband in the arm.

Mr. Mills chuckled. "Just teasing you, Trixie. I know that most people think of Alabama weather as being 110 degrees with a humidity of 99.9% and a swarm of mosquitoes waiting to swoop down on you."

Trixie sheepishly grinned.

Mr. Mills continued, "Now come back in August and that might be true! Our springs are quite nice, as you can see. Winters are probably a little milder than in the northern and mountainous parts of the country, with highs usually in the 40s and lows in the 20s or 30s. But we can experience some pretty rough weather. Remember the winter two years ago, Sharon?"

"How can I forget? It was just awful, girls. The temperature never rose above 25 for five days straight. When it did finally reach 40, the sleet set in. It was miserable. We spent all of our days and most of the nights for a week at the golf course trying to keep the clubhouse pipes and irrigation system from freezing and bursting and the greens from totally dying off."

Trixie and Honey nodded their understanding, remembering some of the "lizzards" back home.

"But falls are nicest," Mr. Mills said. "Just a touch of crisp in the air. Just right for a sweatshirt and a pair of jeans and a good ole Alabama football game."

"Wrong again!" Mrs. Mills chided. "Make that an Auburn football game! You girls have a nice visit, even if you do have work to do. And call us if you have some free time."

As Trixie and Honey waved and called out their good-byes and thank-yous, Tom emerged from the baggage claim area with their suitcases loaded onto a flat-bed cart. "All ready to go?"

"Yes we are!" exclaimed Trixie as she headed for a shiny black, late model Crown Victoria in the parking lot just across the circular drive.

"Trixie!" Honey called out firmly. "Don’t you think Tom should lead the way? You don’t know where you’re going."

"Actually, Honey, Trixie is headed in just the right direction." Tom looked at Trixie with a mischievous grin. "I am so impressed with your powers of deduction, Miss Belden. How do you do it?"

Trixie returned the look. "As my brother Mart would say, with my highly superior sense of intuitiveness – plus the airport security officer guarding a black car with dark tinted windows and three antennas didn’t hurt either!"

Tom loaded the luggage into the truck and walked around to the passenger side of the car. He opened up the front door and Trixie started to get in. As usual, her somewhat clumsy nature took over at just the wrong time, and she caught her shoe on an uneven place in the pavement. She more or less fell into the car losing the errant shoe in the process. Trixie turned her face to hide her flushing cheeks but her embarrassment was only heightened as Honey gracefully slid her 5’7" slender frame into the backseat.

"Oh, woe," Trixie thought to herself. "I thought I would have surely outgrown this ugly duckling stage by now."

Sensing her friend’s discomfort, Honey reached out and patted Trixie’s shoulder. "That’s okay, Trix. I don’t think Tom noticed. Besides that, I know a certain red-headed brother who thinks you’re perfectly perfect just the way you are."

Trixie’s flushed face turned an even deeper shade of crimson at the hint of Jim. She gave Honey a slight smile and turned to face the front. How does she always seem to know what to say and do to make me feel better?

Tom finished his survey of the car’s truck, underneath, and the engine compartment and climbed into the driver’s seat. "With the strange goings-on these days, I’m doing double checks of everything." His statement immediately brought Trixie’s focus back to the question of why they had been brought here.

"Tom, what is going on? We’re in the dark here. We get this letter from the Governor of the State of Alabama, we go into the State of Shock, come out of it, get packed, jump on the plane and fly south like a couple of wild geese. What’s the deal here?" Trixie practically bounced with every syllable.

Tom just shook his head as he waited patiently for a clear spot in which he could turn right into the flow of traffic. "I really can’t say, Trixie. All that I know is that Governor Patman gave me two sets of instructions. The first was that I should be at the airport today at 1:00 to pick up two young ladies arriving on Safeway Airlines Flight 4111. When I asked for a description, he said he really didn’t know what you two looked like. I remember he told me just to look for two ladies in their mid-twenties who probably looked like they might be confused or in need of directions!" Tom chuckled at remembering his own feeling of being confused at the time.

Tom eased out into traffic before continuing. "He did have a vague description of you, Honey, from his friend Douglas McKenzie, but Mr. McKenzie said he hadn’t seen you in ten years."

Honey spoke up in agreement. "That’s just about right. I believe it was the reception Mother and Daddy hosted for the State School Board on their tour of the state’s schools. But I really haven’t changed much since then, except grow about another inch taller."

"As it turned out, it was enough for me to go on, especially the color of your hair," Tom said as he skillfully maneuvered the sedan into the lane marked ‘To I-65 North.’ The second set of instructions concerns your visit to Governor Patman’s office this afternoon. He specifically asked that you not mention to anyone why you were here or what type of business you are in. He also said to just go along with whatever he says in the outer office and don’t act surprised at what he might say when he greets you."

Trixie turned her body fully toward Tom. "That’s it?! That’s all?!"

"Yes, Trixie, I’m afraid that’s it."

Trixie waved her hands impatiently. "But surely you know what’s going on and can tell us something more. You’re with him every day! If he can’t trust his own Chief of Security, who can he trust?"

Tom bit his lip to hold back the sharp retort that was about to explode off his tongue. He remained silent as he pretended to watch out for non-existent dangers in the road.

Honey leaned forward and said softly, "Trixie, that’s just why Tom can’t say anymore. Governor Patman knows that he can trust Tom with anything and has the peace of mind in knowing that Tom will say only what he’s supposed to when it’s appropriate."

A feeling of shame washed over Trixie. And I thought this shooting off at the mouth would have gone bye-bye with the ugly duckling too. She looked at Tom and sincerely apologized for her behavior. "I truly am sorry for the outburst, Tom. My brothers, and Honey’s brother, too, have always told me I’m just too impetuous. Of course, it took me a while to figure out what that meant."

Tom’s laughter put Trixie at ease. "Hey, I’m right there with you, Trixie. My dad always told me that my big mouth would get me in trouble one day and boy did it ever!" For the rest of the way to downtown Montgomery, Tom regaled them with stories of his own impetuousness in high school and college.

Quickly Trixie and Honey felt as though they had known Tom all their lives and, by the time he turned the car onto Dexter Avenue at the Court Square fountain, they had made him an honorary BWG.

"I’ll point out a couple of interesting points here on Dexter. You can see the Capitol straight ahead."

Honey strained forward to get a better look.

"That’s okay, Honey," Tom said. "You’ll get an upclose and personal look at the Capitol in just a few minutes. That building on the corner there," Tom said as he pointed to the building on the end of the block on their right, "is where the telegraph was sent that started the Civil War."

Just a few blocks later, he slowed the car to a complete stop. "This church, ladies, is the Dexter Avenue Baptist Church. The Reverend Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. was once the minister here. The church was at the heart of the early days of the civil rights movement." No further explanation was needed and all three sat in silent tribute.

"And now," Tom said proudly, "our state capitol." The two visitors from New York turned their attention to the beautiful white building sitting atop the grass-covered hill in front of them.

"Wow!" Trixie’s and Honey’s eyes sparkled as they took in the Greek Revival structure with its gleaming white marble steps, the six graceful three-story columns, and the dome at the top, with the Alabama state flag gently waving its greetings.

"Look at the beautiful landscape artistry," breathed Honey. "Those azaleas are just gorgeous. And just look at all the colors—pink, white, salmon, light lilac, red, purple, rose."

"Yes, it is quite magnificent, especially this time of year," agreed Tom, secretly pleased that his two new friends were impressed.

Trixie pointed to the right side of the Capitol grounds. "Tom, what are all those flags? I can’t make them out through the trees from here."

"That is known as the Circle of Flags. It’s a circular driveway leading up to the south entrance. It’s lined with flags from every state in the Union. The bossman—er, Governor Patman has already arranged for you to have a guided tour of the interior of the Capitol as well as a trip through the State House, where our legislature meets." A dark look came across his face. "That is, after you meet with him this afternoon."

 

Chapter 4

Honey and Trixie felt as though they should talked in hushed tones as they approached the entrance to reception area of the Governor’s Office. But once inside, things were definitely a bit more noisy. Phones were ringing on the two secretaries’ desks, intercoms buzzing, a television tuned to CNN, and staff members and constituents flowed in and out of the various offices. Tom lowered his voice. "Remember, go along with whatever he says to you." Both girls nodded.

"Donna Stewart, these are Honey Wheeler and Trixie Belden, the two visitors the Governor was expecting this afternoon. We like to refer to Donna as our traffic cop. Nobody, and I mean nobody comes in without Donna’s okay. And through all this hubbub, she keeps things moving along quite smoothly. The lady in the back is Kristy Southern. She’s the Governor’s personal assistant." Hellos and Pleased-to-meet-yous were exchanged as Donna, still glowing from Tom’s praise, showed Trixie and Honey to a sofa.

Tom entered one of the doors off the reception area, which they presumed led to the Governor’s private inner office. He returned after minute, giving them an okay sign by circling his thumb and index finger as he took a straight-back chair near the door. Both girls surveyed the office with its yellow walls and green carpet with a border containing purple wisteria blossoms.

Donna spoke up. "Now I know what y’all are thinking about these colors. Not exactly what you’d expect."

Honey responded in her most tactful way, "I have a limited knowledge of antiques, but that does look like a Hepplewhite chair that Tom is sitting in. The décor is interesting."

"Interesting..hmmm, you’re most polite, Miss Wheeler," Donna said with a laugh. "Actually, it is rather interesting when you hear the story behind everything. You see, back in the mid-seventies a massive renovation effort..." Donna’s sentence hung in midair as it was interrupted by the entrance of a very handsome and distinguished man, standing 6’3", who had the warmest brown eyes either had ever remembered seeing.

"Honey! Trixie! Welcome! It’s so good to see you again." The man strode toward them. They quickly stole a glance at Tom, who gave them an imperceptible nod and rose. They followed his lead and quickly got to their feet. "I was glad to hear from Doug that you two would be in the area and wanted to stop by."

"Mr. McKenzie was kind to set this up for us, Governor Patman," said Honey, following his lead.

The Governor embraced both girls with his long arms. "You must be Honey," he whispered in her ear. Honey made sure Donna could not see her and gave a short nod.

"I want to catch up with everything that’s been going on with your families. I’ll bet it’s been fifteen years since I saw any of them," the Governor said.

"Oh, at least that," replied Trixie, joining in the charade.

At that moment, a door on their right burst open and in rushed a tall brunette woman with a frenzied look on her face. It was the slender, pointed object she clutched in her right hand that made Trixie scream and insert herself in between the Governor and the on-coming woman. "Watch it sir! She’s got a knife!"

Chapter 5

As Trixie plastered her back against Governor Patman, a myriad of thoughts crashed through her mind. "What do I do now?" "Where’s Honey—is she okay?" "Dang, I wished I had taken that karate course at the YMCA." "Why isn’t Tom jumping to action?" "Why is this woman looking at me like I’m the crazed one?" "Why is Governor Patman laughing, for Pete’s sake?"

"Uh, it’s okay, Trixie," Governor Patman finally sputtered. "You’d better watch it, Tom, or she’ll have your job!"

Trixie was perplexed at the turn of events but she eased away from the Governor.

Governor Patman put his left hand on Trixie’s right shoulder. "Trixie Belden, I’d like you to meet Mrs. Gail Patrick, my Director of Constituent Services."

Both the ladies warily eyed each other. It was then Trixie realized the other woman was carrying a letter opener. For the second time that day, Trixie was overcome with humiliation. "Oh, gee, I’m so sorry, Governor Patman. It’s just, well, Mrs. Patrick burst in, well, kinda’ in a frenzy. I saw what I thought was a knife. I guess I just rushed headlong into action."

Trixie felt another strong hand on her left shoulder and realized that Tom had joined them. "You really are A-OK, Trixie! Don’t forget, I’m the Governor’s Chief of Security and I almost drew my gun on an aluminum water pipe today!" Governor Patman looked at Tom quizzically and Tom said it was a story for the trip home that evening.

Remembering the incident made Trixie feel a lot better but there she stood, not quite knowing what to say to Mrs. Patrick. "I apologize, Mrs. Patrick. By then end of our stay, I will have probably apologized to everyone in your state. Please don’t take offense to anything I said. I just sometimes act before I think."

Gail looked at Trixie with a set jaw and one eyebrow raised, making Trixie feel that much worse. Then Gail couldn’t hold it back any longer. She burst out with a jovial laugh that filled the office. Two staff members from the Finance Director’s Office directly across the hall looked into the entry door. "Are y’all having a party without us?!"

"No, no, we’re just saying hello to some young friends of the Governor," said Gail and the two ducked back into their office suite. "I guess I do look like an escapee from the funny farm. We just realized that we had not prepared a proclamation that’s due in the Secretary of State’s Office for a presentation in 30 minutes. The letter opener---well, somehow we’ve managed to lose the key to that cabinet there, "she gestured to a cabinet just behind Honey, "that contains the official proclamation paper and seals. We found out that the letter opener works perfectly on the lock!"

Gail retrieved her supplies from the cabinet, using her "weapon" to unlock the door, and Trixie and Honey said goodbye to her as she started to leave the room. "Actually, I will be seeing you two tomorrow. Governor Patman asked me if I would be your special guide through the Capitol and State House in the morning. I’m really looking forward to it. I learn something new every time I stop to look at the exhibits myself."

Governor Patman thanked her and turned to the girls. "Come on, I can’t wait to hear how my old buddies Matthew and Peter are doing. I still can’t believe they snagged gals as great as your mothers!"

He has done his homework! "Moms’ apple pies are still the best!" Trixie exclaimed carrying on as though the man she had just seen for the first time ever a few minutes ago had been a lifelong family friend.

"Let’s go! I’ve cleared my schedule for the rest of the afternoon."

"Shall I bring some soft drinks into your office?" Donna offered.

"No thanks, Donna. We’re going downstairs to my study, and I don’t want to be disturbed."

Two other men from an adjoining room quietly joined the group. Just as they stepped out into the hall, Honey snapped her fingers. "Wait just a moment, please. I left my briefcase." She turned around just in time to catch the full force of the menacing look Donna was giving them.

Chapter 6

The entourage headed toward the elevator, with Tom in front, Trixie and Honey next, with Governor Patman flanked by two security guards close behind. Governor Patman was greeted throughout the halls. He enthusiastically responded but kept the group moving. They took the elevator down to the "Basement" level and took the long hallway to the left to an unmarked door. Tom slipped in his key and stepped inside, turning on the lights and immediately doing a quick but thorough scan of the outer room and the inner office. "All clear," he notified the group.

"Mr. Barnes, you and Mr. Wyatt wait here, "the Governor indicating the outer room. "Tom, Miss Belden, Miss Wheeler, and I have some things to discuss. Except for a disastrous emergency, I do not want to be interrupted."

The two men took their posts as the rest of the group filed into the private study, after which Tom shut and locked the door.

Trixie and Honey couldn’t help but admire the simple but elegant design of Governor Patman’s private study. Light beige walls were tastefully accented with crown molding, chair railing, and baseboards two shades deeper than the wall covering. A deep blue executive chair with minute flecks of purple and gold sat behind a mahogany desk. Honey immediately recognized the blue and gold Royal Doulton tea service that graced the top of a Chippendale sideboard. The wall immediately behind the desk was lined ceiling to floor with walnut bookcases. Each shelf contained books, some handsomely leather bound and some so tattered that it was a wonder they still stood, frames photographs, or cherished mementos gathered over the years. Trixie’s eyes immediately went to a white porcelain dragon with blue eyes and a blue tongue lashing out, making her think it might be a very old and expensive piece from some Chinese dynasty. "One of these days I’m going to get Honey and Di to teach me something about art," Trixie thought.

The two side walls were graced with paintings from Alabama artists who had given of their talents in celebration of Cleve Patman’s election to Governor the previous fall. Most of the paintings were outdoor scenes, and Trixie and Honey both got the correct idea that this Governor loved nature and must be a popular leader.

Governor Patman introduced his family by way of oil portraits on the wall directly in front of his desk. His wife Barbara Beth, an extremely elegant lady with flowing jet-black hair wearing an emerald green gown that perfectly matched her eyes. Twin daughters, Julie and Bobbie, beauties with shoulder-length chestnut brown hair and their father’s beautiful brown eyes, both students at the University of Florida--Julie majoring in Theatrical Art and Bobbie in Ecology. Mark, his son, an up-and-coming author who had just been given the prestigious Edgar Award for mystery writers, daughter-in-law Deb, and granddaughters Stephanie and Jennifer. Trixie’s favorite portrait was of Governor Patman’s "furry children"—a red longhaired dachshund named PJ and a white bulldog named Nicki.

Trixie slid into the guest chair in between Tom and Honey.

Governor Patman leaned forward, clasping his hands on top of the desk. "I’m sure your line of business requires you to have more than a lion’s share of curiosity and that there’s many questions you want to ask. The account I’m about to tell you is quite lengthy, but please bear with me. If I don’t cover everything, you can ask whatever questions you need to at the end."

Both girls concurred with his request and got ready to listen to the chronicle of events. Honey took out a notepad and pen to make notes for their review later.

A smile came across his face. "First you’re wanting to know how I found you—right?" Trixie and Honey couldn’t help but verbally respond, "Yes, sir! We can’t figure that one out!"

"Okay, part one of this saga. You already know that Doug McKenzie and I are close friends and that Doug and your father, Honey, has known each other for many years. Before I was elected Governor, I served in this state’s legislature for 24 years at the same time Doug served in New York’s legislative body. I was a faithful attendee at the annual meeting at the National Conference of State Legislators, as was Doug. We had known each other by sight for several years; then one day we started a conversation during a coffee break. As it turned out we were both enthusiastic spelunkers. Do you young ladies know what that is?"

Trixie jumped forward to the edge of her chair. "You bet we do!" Trixie cried out. "Several years ago when we were in the Ozark Mountains…huh?" This time it was Honey’s turn to gently nudge Trixie’s foot. "Oh, sorry, sir. Yes, we know a little bit about exploring caves."

"Well, that’s how Doug knew the letter was authentic. The little drawing at the bottom represents eyes looking out of a cave. I doodled it on a pad during a rather boring session late one afternoon and Doug saw it. After that, we used it to signify various things—‘this speaker is long-winded’, ‘time to go’, ‘I agree’, you know, a secret code so to speak.

"At one of the last conferences we attended together, Doug told me about this amazing pair of teen-age girls from his area who were extremely adept at solving crimes and mysteries that had baffled local law enforcement agencies. He told me several stories of your encounters with thieves, con men, imposters, counterfeiters, kidnappers, and such. I was more than astonished by your work.

"So when it appeared that I needed some outside help, someone no one would suspect of being a policeman or private investigator, I remembered Doug’s story about the "schoolgirl shamuses." I called Doug, he made some calls himself, and he then sent me your names and address. He also sent me short information on your families—names of your parents and what they did and your brothers. That was the easy part."

With that, he paused, closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath. The hearts of the trio before him ached as Governor Patman in his anguish seemed to visibly age 10 years before their very eyes.

"Then these begin to arrive," he said as he handed them a folder.

 

Chapter 7

Trixie and Honey looked curiously at the hand-written file label:  Phantom’s Notes—Copies for B-W.

Governor Patman gave a rueful chuckle.  “The Phantom of the Opera is my favorite Broadway show.  During the play, the theater owners receive mysterious, threatening notes from the Phantom.  I began to feel like the theater owners.  I’ll let Tom tell you about the notes—that’s his area.”

“Right,” Tom said as the girls turned toward him.  “I’ll give you a little background of our operations first.  All the mail addressed to the Governor’s Office is received in our mailroom.  Everything—envelopes, boxes, everything is x-rayed.  Mail addressed to specific staff members goes directly to them.  Items addressed to the Governor are opened, read, and sorted by the head of our correspondence center.  Mary then distributes it to the proper person to handle the information or prepare a suggested reply for the Governor to send.

“There’s not a day that goes by that we don’t receive harassing mail and telephone calls—from the vague “you’re no good” to full-fledged threats on his life.  People angry because gas is too high, crazies who think the Governor is to blame for the death of their Scottish ancestors.  Those are the ones I get.  It’s my job to read them and use my professional judgment as to which ones I can toss, which ones go into a file for possible future reference, and those that require immediate attention.

“As far as the telephone goes, we don’t routinely record phone conversations although each phone is equipped with a device so that certain calls can be taped with a push of a button if need be.

“The first note we received in this case came about five days prior to Governor Patman contacting you.  It’s the first page there in your folder.”

Trixie and Honey opened the folder and read, “Waste not, want not – payback is hell.”

“I know it doesn’t seem like much,” Tom said.  “In fact, it was already in trash, but something just gnawed at my stomach.  Some nagging little thought that made me go back some time later and retrieve it.  Governor, if you would, show them the original.”  Governor Patman reached into the expandable file pocket from which he had pulled their folder, got the requested paper, and handed it across to Honey.

“I think I see what got your attention, Tom,” said Honey as she rubbed her fingers on the creme- colored paper.  “This is very high quality stationery, not just your run-of-the-mill note paper.  Much heavier.  Also, assuming this was regular 8 ½ by 11 paper, it looks like about 2 inches at the top have been cut off, except here on the left where the cutting line angled up just a bit.  You can see just the slightest bit of gold, probably the bottom edge of a company letterhead or logo.  Gold lettering would be much more expensive that just black, so you would assume a prosperous corporation or firm.”

“Very good, Honey,” Tom said admiringly.  “Once I looked at it again, I saw the same thing.  The words still didn’t say much in the way of an overt threat, but that little voice inside my head told me to keep it.  So out of the trash and into a pending file it went.  The next day another one came.  It read, ‘The time for repayment draws near.’  The day after that the floodgates seemed to open.”

Governor Patman took over the story then.  “Yes, more in the mail but that’s not what spooked me.  We began to find notes every where.  In the seat of my car, in the middle drawer of my desk, in the inside pocket of my suit jacket.  And then the packages started.  We started finding boxes addressed to me lying in odd places in and around the Capitol.  Before we touched them, bomb squads were called to check them.  It happened so often that the bomb squad started coming here every morning.”

“The contents of most of the boxes was garbage—literally,” Tom said. 

“Stinking, putrid, moldy household garbage.”

“Yuck!!!” Trixie said as Honey made a face in agreement.

“The last box put us over the edge and what we found out all during the day was what made me write to you,” Governor Patman informed them.  “It was a box of hazardous biochemical and medical waste.  For the first time, there was a note on the box.  A copy is in your folder.  There should be a red tag on that particular page.”

The girls returned their attention to the folder and found the tagged page.  What they read caused them to involuntarily shiver and realize what the Governor had meant in his letter about it being a matter of well being for the people of his state.

"Are you starting to get the message?  Listen to us, do as we want, or there will be more.  Not just a small box, but tons and tons strewn all across your state.  Nothing will be safe.  Your schools will be nothing but toxic wastelands.  Your old folks will be wallowing in their own feces because hospital and nursing home staffs will be too sick to come in.  Better take out extra life insurance and cancer insurance because it’s going to get you soon.  You and every other Alabama hick.  You do have a choice—you’d better make the right one.  Don’t even think about calling in the cops.  We’ve taken out a little insurance of our own.”

“My heavens!” exclaimed Honey.  “No wonder you were concerned.”

“And to make things worse,” Tom continued the story, “all day we got calls from all over the state.  From individual citizens, school principals, police chiefs, emergency management folks, mayors, health care agencies, store owners—you name it and we probably heard from them.  They had received boxes of what was labeled as toxic waste with the words ‘Thank your Governor for this gift’ written across the boxes.”

Chapter 8

The Governor excused himself for a moment, opening a door so cleverly built into the wall that neither one had noticed it before.  Tom fixed everyone a soft drink while Trixie and Honey stood up, stretched their legs, and digested the information they had just learned.  Upon his return, Governor Patman could see that Trixie had a troubled look on her face.

“I know we said that we’d wait until the end before we asked questions, but I’ve got one nagging me that’s taking away some of my attention from what you’re telling us.  May I ask it?” Trixie asked politely.

“Sure, fire away,” the Governor replied.

“Why did you feel that you needed outside help?  I know that the State must have an investigation agency under your control.”

“Yes, Trixie, you’re right, we do—The Alabama Bureau of Investigation.  But unfortunately we have recently discovered a major problem in that agency.  Records are being tampered with or missing and sensitive materials are being e-mailed to newspapers and radio stations.  Right now we believe that it’s a disgruntled employee but we’re far from making an arrest.  The Director seems to be unable to take control and make clear decisions regarding the situation.  Quite frankly, he will be dismissed at the end of this week if he doesn’t voluntarily resign.”  He shook his head in disbelief.  “I really thought Colonel Rogers would do a much better job.  I’m truly disappointed in his lack of leadership and discipline within his ranks.  Tom and I agreed that it would be best if we could avoid calling in the ABI.”

“What about the local police?”

Governor Patman gave a short laugh.  “Mayor Harrison and I have been on the opposite sides of many issues over the years.  Plus he sometimes feels as though I step on his toes and try to take his limelight.  Of course, nothing could be farther from the truth but, unfortunately, he is a spiteful person who carries a grudge—even if it’s unwarranted or unfounded.  I don’t like to call on his police force unless there is no other option.  Tom does have a close friend on the MPD force that we can call on for quick information.  These factors plus the threat in the note made Tom and I feel we needed to find the outside help that I described earlier.”

“I can see your dilemma,” Honey said.  “The overwhelming need to take some kind of action but feeling that your hands tied to do so.”

“Correct assessment, Honey.  We were in quandary,” he replied.  “But just when we thought things had gotten as bad as it could—it got even worse.  That ‘insurance of our own’ the note mentioned…”

Governor Patman became visibly shaken as his voice choked and eyes filled with tears, fear and anger.  Trixie and Honey sat motionless, knowing that at this moment silence was the best course of action.

Governor Patman’s hands trembled slightly as he picked up his glass of Sprite and raised it to his lips.  After a few swallows, he regained his composure.

“The insurance we learned just two days ago was the kidnapping of my Chief of Staff.”

Trixie sucked in her breath; now her mind was really racing with all kinds of possibilities.

Honey stared in disbelief.

Trixie found her voice first.  “How did you learn of this?”

“Ryan – Ryan Jordan, that is – is my Chief of Staff.  He, as well as Tom, has been with me since my tenure as Speaker of the House of Representatives.  From my recollection he had not taken any personal time for over three years and it was beginning to show.  He began doing things so unlike him—forgetting appointments, coming in late, forgetting his train of thought in the middle of a sentence.  The stress was getting to him, as it does with all of us from time to time, and I absolutely insisted he take a couple of weeks off.

“He was extremely reluctant at first, but that’s just him—loyal, hard-working, doesn’t want to let anyone down.  Then he began to look at some travel magazines and brochures and decided it might not be such a bad idea after all.

“He did argue with me on one point—he said one week was fine, but I still insisted on two.  He left insisting he’d be back in a week.  When he didn’t return to work after that week, we were quite naturally concerned.  I had Donna call his house but to no avail.  We were able to learn from the post office that his mail had not been picked up.  None of his neighbors had seen him.  We did not want to call his family so as not to cause undue alarm.

“Several of us, including myself, Tom, Donna, Kristy, and Gail, sat down to discuss it.  Kristy reminded us how insistent I had been on the two weeks and had even written in the two weeks myself on the calendar.  Donna told us that Ryan had confided in her that he felt guilty about being gone at all, let alone for that amount of time, but that it was sounding better and better.  He even showed her a brochure on a two-week windjammer cruise.  We came to the conclusion that he had decided to follow my advice and that we wouldn’t push the panic button until the two weeks was up.

“Then two days ago, I received yet another note.  This one read, ‘We have the Chief.  Our own little insurance policy.  Are you listening?  Time’s a wasting.’ ”

He then leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes.

Trixie looked at him with eyes full of sympathy and then stole a glance at Tom, whose head was hung down, buried in his own grief.  I can imagine how difficult this is for them, not knowing the whereabouts or condition of their friend and co-worker.  I know that I wouldn’t be handling things near as well if Honey were the one missing.

Honey responded to Trixie’s private thoughts by reaching out and grasping Trixie’s hand.

Several moments passed before Honey quietly spoke.  “Sir, I know this is difficult but how do you know that he has been kidnapped?  Whoever this is may know that Mr. Jordan is on vacation and is using that knowledge for his or her own benefit?”

“Because of what accompanied the note.”  As the Governor spoke, he slipped a stiff piece of paper across the desk.  Trixie picked it up and held it so that they might see its contents.

Honey shrieked and started to wail “Oh, no, oh, no” over and over again.

Trixie felt the room spinning, her vision narrowed to a pinpoint of light.  Her last coherent thought was “Please don’t let me get sick in his office.”

 

Chapter 9

The photograph that Trixie had let fall to the floor was the most vile, horrifying thing they had seen: it was the picture of a severed, bloody human finger still adorned with a gold ring with the initial “J” in the center.

Trixie felt a cold rag being placed on her forehead and heard Governor Patman talking in soothing tones to Honey.  Get hold of yourself, Belden!

“Don’t be embarrassed by your reaction, Trixie,” Tom told her.  “We reacted in much the same way.”

Trixie opened her mouth to express appreciation at their understanding but nothing came out.

Fortunately at that moment Honey regained her poise.  “Again, Governor Patman, I guess I have a similar question as before, but now I’m a little more hesitant to ask.  How do you know this, uh, this … may have come from Mr. Jordan?”

Atta’ girl, Honey!  Trixie thought back to the time when Honey wouldn’t have been able to mentally handle such a sight, much less “suck it up” and carry on like a professional.

“This is what makes it even more difficult for me,” Governor responded.  “Not only is Ryan my Chief of Staff but he’s my godson as well.  His dad and I, well, from what I’ve gathered, we were a lot like the two of you.  Frank and I grew up next door to each other right here in the Montgomery.  We attended the same schools and played on the same baseball teams, although Frank’s grades and batting average were always much better than mine.”  He smiled in fond remembrance.

“When it was time to decide on college, both of us wanted very badly to attend Auburn University.  It was closer to home, we loved the campus, and we were both Auburn Tiger fans.  But we chose with our heads since Frank wanted a law degree and I wanted to major in political science.  So off we went to the University of Alabama.  We roomed together, studied together, and yes, I’ll admit it, even partied together.

“Our graduation was a great cause of celebration, especially for my family since I was the first one to ever receive a college education.  Our parents wanted to get us something especially nice to commemorate the day.  They gave us matching pinkie rings – one with a “J” for him and one with a “P” for me.  We were all so proud!

“Frank went on to get his law degree and both of us married fine ladies and began our families.  Barb and I had our bunch, “he said as he gestured to the back wall, “and Frank and Jill produced Ryan Christopher and then Michelle Brooke.  I was so moved when Frank asked me to be Ryan’s godfather.  I must confess, I broke down and cried as I held him at his christening.

“Ryan was the image of his father in many ways--good looking, brainy, yet good-natured and fun loving, not a conceited or self-centered bone in his body.  When I was elected by the House of Representatives to be Speaker of the House, I found myself in the position of being able to hire a staff.  I contacted Ryan straight-away.  Not because he was my godson but because of his exceptional organizational and people-handling skills.  When I was elected Governor, he was a natural, and the only one I ever considered, for the Chief of Staff position.

“It was a devastating blow to both of us three years ago when we learned that Frank had cancer.  It was so difficult to watch this once vibrant man being taken over by the shadow of death.  On the evening before he died, he asked that every one leave his bedroom, where Hospice had set up a care center for his last days, except for Ryan and me.”

“He asked that I get his ring from the dresser.  He had been unable to wear it since he’d lost so much weight.  He drew my hand that held the ring and Ryan’s left hand together and held them in between his own weak and trembling hands.  “When I’m gone, Cleve, put my ring on Ryan’s finger.  I want the bond that you and I have shared for so many years to continue to live on.  And, Ryan, tell your mother how much I love her.  She’s been my strength to get me through the tough times and the inspiration for everything good I’ve every done.  Tell Michelle that she’ll always be Daddy’s “Boo” and that I’ll always be with her.”

Tears were now streaming unabashedly down every face in the room. 

Trixie realized that both Tom and Honey had put their arms around her and that all three were so close together that two chairs could have easily held them.

“Neither of us could speak but we both nodded, “Governor Patman continued.  “He understood the emotional tidal wave that had overtaken us.  He closed his eyes, slipped into a coma, and by dawn he was gone.”

Tom reached toward the box of tissues on the desk and withdrew a handful, handing some to the girls and using the remainder for himself.  Honey looked down at her pad and realized the only things on it were teardrops.  She had become so mesmerized during the story of the incredible events, she had forgotten to write any notes.

The clock ticking on the bookcase reminded them all of how precious life is and how little time each of us really has.

 

Chapter 10

“I could never wear my ring again, but I knew that someday I would pass it on to Mark.  I keep it here and look at it often.  It reminds me of all the good in life and how we affect the people around us.”  He reached behind him and picked up the dragon that Trixie noticed earlier.

  Trixie saw it was actually a box as he lifted the top section off and withdrew his ring.  Each one admired it for not only its physical beauty but for what it stood.

The Governor returned the ring to its special container and placed the dragon back on its shelf.  “There’s one more bit of evidence that may also be a little difficult to handle.  We received this just this morning.  Tom, if you would.”

Tom walked over to the built-in stereo unit and pushed a button that opened the cassette tape player.  He removed a tape from his pocket and inserted it into the player.  Before pressing the “Play” button he turned and said, “Remember that I told you that we could record calls as necessary?  When Governor Patman took this call, only a few words were spoken before he realized this call needed to be recorded and he pushed the button.”

Caller: … insurance card is right here.  Are you listening now?  You’re not being wasteful now are you?  Are you ready to pay back what you owe us?

Governor:  Who is this?

Caller:  You can be assured that your friend here will be wasted if you don’t comply.

Governor:  How do I know you’ve really got him?

Caller:  You mean the photograph didn’t convince you?

Governor:  You can do a lot with makeup, paint, items from the dime store and trick photography these days.  Anyone with a computer can cut-and-paste and come up with a photo like that too.  I want to talk to Ryan.  If not, consider this conversation over.

Caller:  Well, I guess one more nudge won’t hurt anything.  But it will be difficult for him to talk with a few teeth missing and those swelled purple lips.

They heard the caller saying something about “just say a quick hello” and something being dragged across the floor and then a thick-tongued voice so low and garbled they had to strain to hear and understand.

Ryan:  Governor, Jewel Hill.

With that they heard an angry voice shout “Give me that phone!” and a solid thud and a loud moan.  After that the phone was slammed down.  The tape ran on silently for a few more seconds and then Tom pressed, “Stop.”

Trixie contemplated what she had just heard.  The professional private investigator was now in action.  “We need to have that tape analyzed at once.  We need to have the accent and speech patterns of that caller identified as well as those sounds I heard in the background.  But who, since we can’t use your state or local people.”

“Trixie,” Honey interjected, “I know just the person—Dan!”

“Great thinking, partner!” Trixie explained to the two men about Dan and his past work and current training.  “He can be trusted 100 percent.  We’d trust him with our own lives—and have on several occasions.  May I use your phone?”

“Certainly,” the Governor said, “if Tom says it’s been swept for bugs today.”

“Yes, it has and it’s clear,” Tom replied as he handed the phone to Trixie.

Trixie dialed the number of her friend’s New York apartment.  It had rung four times and she was about to hang up when a breathless male voice answered, “Hello—this is Dan Mangan.”

“Dan, it’s Trixie.”

“Trixie! I’m so glad I decided to come back and answer the phone!  Jody, John and I were on our way out.  We’re headed back to Quantico to complete some more of our independent research projects for our degrees.  What’s going on?”

Without going into great detail, for Dan understood the confidentiality of their cases, Trixie explained the need to have a cassette tape analyzed for the item she mentioned to Governor Patman.  She listened for a few minutes, made a few short replies, and then motioned for a pen and paper.  She scribbled down an address in the Washington DC area and two phone numbers and expressed her gratitude for his help.

“Dan said if we could overnight express the tape he would get to work on it right away.  He asked if his mentor, Dr. Ramirez, could assist.  He said the quality of the answers would increase 200 fold if Dr. Ramirez could help.  I trust Dan’s judgement and gave him approval.  I am to call him tomorrow night.  We just need to get this tape to a delivery company at once.”

Tom told Trixie to write down Dan’s name, address, and phone number on another piece of paper and grabbed the tape from the player.  He opened the door and called to one of the security guards.  “Mr. Wyatt!  Take this tape down to FedEx and have it shipped “urgent, overnight, top priority” to this man at this address.  Specify that only Mr. Mangan can receive the package.  Call ahead to the FedEx office and tell them you’re on your way.  Invoke executive authority if you have to and use the emergency lights.  We’re cutting it close on time!”

“Yes, sir, Mr. Farley!”

“Don’t worry,” Tom said seeing the question on their faces, “Jerry can be trusted too.  He’ll have everybody off the road on his way to the FedEx office.  Not only will the lights be flashing but the other drivers will want to get out of the maniac’s way! And yes, in answer to your second question, we do have other copies—I didn’t just send off our only one!”

“Okay, now that’s all settled and the tale has been told, do you have questions?” Governor Patman asked.

“First of all, any ideas on who Jewel Hill is?”  Trixie began.

Both men shook their heads.  “That may be one for my buddy at MPD,” offered Tom.  “I can get him to run a check on the name through various data bases, including ones on criminals, property owners, driver’s license records, vehicle license plate owners, and the state, county and city personnel records.”

The last one caused Governor Patman to raise an eyebrow.

“Don’t ask, sir-don’t ask.”

Honey brought up the next subject.  “Who has access to your office and car?  I imagine it would be difficult to place the notes in the places where you found them without raising suspicion.”

Governor Patman responded, “The thoughts of an inside job are scary but very real for the reason you just mentioned.  Add to that, the kidnap note referred to Ryan as the Chief.  That’s the nickname the staff and Cabinet members use for him.  But to answer your question, Honey, not very many to the office.  Obviously myself, Tom, Donna and Kristy.  After that, not many can walk in my office unaccompanied.  Sometimes if Donna and Kristy know that I’m expecting something from a Cabinet member, they will allow the Cabinet member to walk in and leave it on my desk, especially if it has to do with an urgent, confidential matter.  But if they are not in and out quickly, one of them will go in to see what’s going on.  Normally things are just left with the two of them.

“The car—well, no one is in it without either me or Tom present.  Beyond that, it would be next to impossible to list everyone who has traveled in the car.”

“Tom, how about thinking back over the last two weeks and try to make a list of the passengers,” Honey requested.  Tom promised to do so that night.

Trixie made the next request.  “Do you have a picture of Mr. Jordan?  It would be helpful to know what he looks like.”

“Oh, of course.  I should have included one in the package I gave you.  I’ll get you a copy but in the meantime, I have one here for you to see.”  Governor Patman got a beautiful white leather album lettered in royal blue across the middle “The Inauguration of Governor Cleveland R. Patman, January 18, 1999.”  Inside were pictures of his inauguration day activities, the swearing in, and the balls held that evening.  He flipped through the pages, finding the one of Ryan Jordan, smiling, shining face so full of life and happiness, and looking so handsome in his black tuxedo.

When he showed the picture to Trixie and Honey, they stared at it unbelievingly.  They finally turned to each other and breathed one word in unison, “Jim!”

 

Chapter 11

“Jim?!” Governor Patman exclaimed in a bewildered tone.  “Let me see that.  No, that’s Ryan.  Who’s Jim?”

“Jim is my brother,” Honey answered.  “Except for the hair color, he bears an uncanny resemblance to Ryan.”  She pulled a picture of Jim from her briefcase and passed it across to the Governor.

“My goodness, you’re right.  Ryan’s face may be a little rounder but they could easily pass for brothers.”

A possible plan began to formulate in Trixie’s mind.  “We’ve got plenty to begin with.  I think it would be a good idea for us to check into our hotel and get started.”

“I appreciate what you’re doing,” Governor Patman told them.  “I just hope you’re able to come up with some kind of lead.  I hate to tie your hands, but any obvious attempt to quiz anyone is out of the question.  You’re just the daughters of some old friends down here to visit the State Capitol.”

“We understand, sir.  No problem,” Honey assured him.

They left the private study to return upstairs—Governor Patman to his office and Tom, Trixie and Honey to the car.  They all wore quite somber faces as they rode the elevator up to the main floor.  As they got off a man hurrying down the hallway collided into Honey.

Tom immediately went into full-protection mode for the Governor’s safety until recognized the man.  “Oh, hello, Mr. Winfield.”

“Tom, Governor,” the man acknowledged them and gave Honey’s arm a brief touch, in what they assumed to be a gesture of apology.  “I just left the report on the effects of that oil spill into Little River with Donna.  I just spoke with the Fort Payne police and the DeKalb County sheriff’s office and they still have no leads.”

With that, he rushed away.

“How curious,” the Governor mused.  “Stan usually isn’t rude that like.  Anyway, that was Stanley Winfield, the director of our environmental management agency.  Even stranger is the fact he gave me that report yesterday.  What I had asked for today was a status of our request to EPA to extend the deadline for our annual report.”

He was still shaking his head as the entourage turned left toward the Rotunda and headed away from the elevators.  They did not know that Donna had told Stanley Winfield that the Governor was “holed up” in his private study with Tom and two young ladies from out of town.  They did not see that Mr. Winfield had stopped behind one of the columns in the room just beyond the elevators.  They did not see the suspicious, inquisitive look he gave the young women accompanying his boss.

*       *       *

“Would y’all like to go out for dinner?” Tom asked as he drove toward their hotel?

Trixie knew she spoke for both of them as she said, “No, Tom.  We appreciate the offer, but we’ve got a lot of work to do tonight.  We would like to pick up something through a drive-through and take back to the hotel with us.”

“Not a problem.  Do you like hamburgers?”

Both girls responded with a resounding “YES!”

Tom got a twinkle in his eye.  “Have you ever had a Krystal?”

“A crystal what?” asked Honey as both she and Trixie eyed him with raised brows.

“No, no, not crystal with a “c” – Krystal with a “K”,” laughed Tom.  “Obviously the answer is no.  In that case, you are in for a treat.”  With that Tom whipped the sedan into the drive-through lane at a small white fast-food restaurant and pulled up to the speaker.

“I’d like to order 15 Krystals and 3 large Cokes,” Tom responded to the always scratchy voice on the speaker.  “Put those in three different bags, with five in each bag, please.”

“What—no fries?” cried Trixie at the same time Honey gasped, “My stars, Tom, we can’t eat five hamburgers each!”

Tom grinned and held up one hand.  “Now, now, ladies, you’ll just have to trust me.  I am, after all, a fellow Bob-White now, even though it is an honorary title!  Even if you can’t eat all five now, they’ll make an excellent snack for later, even cold.”

He paid at the window and hauled in the three sacks and drinks and handed one to each of them.  An extremely pleasant aroma immediately filled the car.  “You guys can wait if you want to, but I’m digging in now!”  With that he pulled on a small cardboard container from his sack and withdrew from the container a 3” square burger and began to eat.  “My, my, my, melt-in-your-mouth goodness!”

The smell and Tom’s visible pleasure were just too much for the visitors from New York.  They quickly removed one for their sacks.

“Hmmmmm,” sighed Honey as she bit into the steamed bun that contained a square, thin hamburger patty, topped with cooked diced onions, a dill pickle slice and a squirt of mustard.  “This is scrumptious!”

Trixie mumbled something totally unintelligible but her expression conveyed total agreement.

The remainder of their feast was consumed even before they got to the hotel.  Honey didn’t let on but she scanned the area for another Krystal restaurant—just in case.

They got checked in and Tom helped them with their luggage and made sure they were safely settled in.  Trixie had just about closed the door when Tom turned on his heel and came back to the door.

“I just about forgot these.”  He handed Trixie two plastic cards with metal clips and a piece of paper.  “The plastic cards are an electronic card keys for every door in the Capitol complex.  All exterior doors are locked down after six p.m. and some doors, including interior ones, are even locked during the day.  That card will unlock any door by swiping the card through the reader right to left with the front facing you.  I’d suggest you clip them on to your jacket or a pocket and have them handy at all times while your downtown.  The paper has a complete list of phone numbers where you can reach me—office, cell phone, beeper, home, even my mother’s apartment.  Do not, and I am most serious, do not hesitate to call me for anything at any hour.”

He returned to his car as Trixie closed and locked the door. 

Unbeknownst to them, Tom remained in the parking lot watching the door to their room.  He picked up his cell phone and punched in a code, then a password, and then a number.  “All tucked away safe and sound.  Any further instructions?”  He listened for a moment.  “Right, I’ll meet you at the usual place.”

 

Chapter 12

Trixie and Honey surveyed their room decorated in cool shades of blue and green and gave it a 5-star rating. The good-sized entry room was divided functionally into two areas: one end was a sitting area with love seat, wingback chair, and coffee table and the other was an office space, complete with phone, desk, two chairs, several electrical plugs, and a fax/modem outlet. Off to the left was a small kitchen that included studio-sized refrigerator and stove, a microwave, coffeemaker with supplies, sink, and a basic set of cookware and dinnerware. Straight behind was the bedroom, complete with two beds, bedside table holding a phone and clock radio, dresser, closet, entertainment unit, and vanity. At that point the bath was Honey’s favorite room—the oversized garden tub was calling to her!

"Trixie, you’d better get your shower first," Honey told her friend. "Once I sink down into a mound of bubbles with my Patricia Cornwell book, I may never come out!"

"I won’t argue with you! After the plane ride and all that we’ve been through today I feel like a Brillo pad won’t be sufficient to scrub me clean!"

To her delight Trixie found when she emerged from the shower that Honey had unpacked their suitcases and had everything organized. "Okay, Trix, everything on the left is yours—left bed, left dresser drawers, left side of the closet. I’m the right side."

"I don’t suppose there’s a philosophical message in that last statement, is there?" Trixie grinned at Honey, whose retort was in the form of a thrown pillow.

"My turn," said Honey. "Check on me in about an hour just to make sure I haven’t fallen asleep or that I’m not starting to resemble a prune."

Honey closed the door and Trixie heard the bath water running. When she was certain that Honey was not coming back out, she headed to the phone in the office area. She picked up the phone, dialed a New York state number, and then heard a polite female voice answer: "Ten Acres Academy."

*      *      *

Honey stepped into the living area still rubbing her hair with a large, fluffy yellow towel. Man, Trixie reflected, she even looks neat in a bathrobe and slippers, while I manage to make Donna Karan look like Donna K-Mart.

"Even though I was pretty beat when we left the Capitol, I feel really refreshed now. I’ve gotten my second wind and my mind wouldn’t let me sleep if I wanted to," Trixie said. "How ‘bout you?"

"I agree. Let’s organize our thoughts on this thing and see where we need to go after that," Honey replied.

"Okay! I’ve got my laptop hooked up and ready to go. I think I’ll do some Internet searches and see what I might come up with. Why don’t you take your legal pad and begin a list of what we know for sure and what are safe assumptions. Then start a list of the whole cast of characters and how they might fit into this." Trixie paused for a minute. A dark look came over her face. "We can’t let personal feelings get into this. As much as I hate to utter the words, we’ve got to consider that Tom might be involved with this. After all, he’s the one who has the most access to the Governor and his office and the schedule of the staff."

Honey’s face bore an unhappy look. "I know. We also need to keep in mind that Ryan himself may be one of the perpetrators. He would know how the Governor would respond to seeing the ring. Even Governor Patman himself said how easy it would be to create that picture using trick photography or a computer."

"That’s true, too. But it’s my opinion that we should go on the theory that he has been kidnapped and is being tortured unless something turns up that undisputedly proves otherwise."

Honey leaned back with her back in the corner of the love seat and her legs stretched out. "I wholeheartedly concur with that. If it’s okay with you, let’s not even list Tom as a suspect unless he does or says something to arouse our suspicions."

"Okay, I’ll go along with that. The next thing I believe we can definitely agree on is that waste is involved in this thing with all the verbal and visual references," Trixie offered.

"Very true. At first I gave some consideration to the idea of waste in state government, but I don’t think that’s the case. It must have something to do with garbage or hazardous waste—something like that."

Trixie went on. "When I first starting listening to Governor Patman, I thought we had been brought here to find whoever was sending the notes and the garbage. And actually that was his original intent, based on the timing of his letter to us. But the kidnapping of Ryan has turned this whole case inside out. That is our first priority—finding Ryan. If--no, no, make that when we find him, we’ll know who the garbage men are. Of course, if we knew who the garbage men were, it might be easier to find Ryan."

Honey’s laughter broke the serious mood in the room. "That last bit gave me a mental image of a dog chasing its tail and crying out ‘which came first, the chicken or the egg!’ "

Chapter 13

While Honey began her notes, Trixie turned her attention to her computer and dialed in to her Internet service provider. She waited as her log in completed and then accessed her favorite search engine. After thinking about all they had learned, she typed in "Alabama toxic waste" and clicked on Search. She groaned as the search engine returned 1,777,340 sites.

She clicked back to the frame in which she could enter more options or words to narrow her search. She chose "all the words", "English and North America only," and search the "top page" for each site found. This time the search returned 1,710 sites. Whew, that’s better! Trixie began looking at the summaries of the documents but nothing struck her as being a possible clue to the case. It wasn’t too long before Trixie realized that it would take too much time to even scan 1,710 summaries, much less read very many. She knew she would have to add more words in order to better refine her search—but what words?

Trixie flopped back in her chair, ran her hands through her hair, and explained her dilemma to Honey.

Honey chewed the end of her pen and thought about the situation. "I didn’t mention it before but there was something about the voice on the tape. I’ve been trying to mentally grab at it all afternoon, but just as the thought would come into focus it would fade away again. I think though I know what it is. The accent of the man speaking, Trixie."

"So, what of it?" Trixie asked with a "well, duh" sound in her voice.

"That’s just it—you and I, being from the North, didn’t give it a second thought. But that type of accent isn’t common for around here. It had New York written all over it."

Trixie’s eyes widened. "Gleeps, Honey! You’re absolutely right! It never crossed my mind that it was unusual. ‘Way to go, partner!"

"And there’s one more thing. If this series of events happened in New York, especially the thing with the finger, ‘Mafia’ would be the first word to pop in our heads," Honey observed. "Try adding that or the words ‘organized crime’ to your search."

"Ah, that may be just the ticket." Trixie added more words to her search. It didn’t take her long to find a story that caught her attention. "Alabama’s Retirement Chief Wastes No Time in New York City."

"Honey, come here! I may have just found our first major link to the case!"

Honey hurried over and both young detectives read with fascination the account that Trixie found. The story centered around Dr. David Bronner, the head of the Retirement Systems of Alabama (RSA), and the creative ways he had used the retirement contributions of state employees, public education employees, and judicial system employees to increase their worth. He invested in the usual stocks and bonds but his resourcefulness went way beyond that, most notably his ventures into the communications media, real estate, and the world-famous, award-winning Robert Trent Jones Golf Trail.

It was the focus on the real estate ventures that provided a connection to the case. RSA had purchased land in downtown Montgomery and had constructed many new, modern office buildings, including the RSA Plaza, RSA Tower, and RSA Union, among others. Dr. Bronner branched out further, much further, when he negotiated the purchase of a building at 55 Water Street, New York City. The article went on to describe how the building had deteriorated from an "A" rated building to a "B" rated building with vacancy reaching 40%. The RSA pumped $140 million into the building for renovations and soon it regained its "A" rating and near full occupancy. It even won several awards from various architectural groups in the New York City area.

New York has its reputations, some earned and some undeserved, but Dr. Bronner soon learned that dealing with the mob bosses was a very real part of doing business in NYC. Dr. Bronner was encouraged not to accept the low bid for garbage removal service for the 55 Water Street building while the exceptional points of another service were touted.

Dr. Bronner got the drift—you have to pay for "protection" or suffer the consequences. But this time, the mob bosses ran into someone they couldn’t intimidate. Dr. Bronner went to the police and reported the events. He even went so far as to send his own employees undercover. The result was the exposure of the mob-controlled garbage collection service and the break-up of the organization. The leaders who escaped arrest went into deep hiding. Word on the street was they had vowed revenge but in a way no one would expect.

Honey stared unblinkingly at the screen while Trixie bookmarked and printed out a copy of report. "Oh, Trixie, do you really think this might be connected to Ryan’s kidnapping?"

Trixie nodded vigorously. "You know that you and Jim have always told me that my greatest asset was my gut-feeling. This one is so strong I’m surprised and it hasn’t busted out all over the place. It’s got all the right ties—garbage, organized crime, and Alabama."

"But, on the other hand," Honey interjected, "This has nothing to do with Governor Patman. It was well before he was elected as Governor. If there was a vendetta, it would be against this Dr. Bronner."

"But how much attention would they get if they threatened the head of the retirement system? Look at what the notes say." Trixie retrieved the copies of the "Phantom’s Notes" from the folder. "They seem to imply that some kind of repayment will be demanded. It would be more logical to try to strong-arm the Governor, who has much more authority to get things done, or overlooked, rather than someone in Dr. Bronner’s position, even though he was the one who caused the problem."

"Yes, I understand what you’re saying." Honey’s voice trailed off before she said something that might infer she doubted Trixie’s instinct. Trixie was right about that—her intuition had been the key element in solving many of their cases.

"Anyway, let’s just say I believe this ties in significantly with Ryan’s disappearance. Let’s see what your notes say."

Honey crossed the room, picked up the notes she had left on the coffee table, and then laid them on top of the desk.

--Get Dan’s analysis of tape

--Who is Jewel Hill (double check with Tom on what MPD friend found)

--Waste—connection? Who would have access to waste found in the boxes?

--Repayment for what?

--Possible mob connection

--Must be inside job or a connection with someone on the inside

--Does Gov have something to hide, blackmail?

--Who’s been in car recently?? (Tom to make list)

--Known enemies?

Possible insiders:

Donna Stewart – Knows office schedule; has full access to Gov’s office. Likes to talk. Why the mean look at us?

Kristy Southern - Knows office schedule; has full access to Gov’s office.

Gail Patrick – Seems to be one of Gov’s main confidants but doesn’t have full access

Col. Rogers – head of ABI, not being responsive to problem in his dept – why? Secretly have it in for Gov? Being blackmailed himself to keep certain investigations from happening?

Mayor Harrison – spiteful, vengeful – not-so-secret foe of Gov, would have access to city’s garbage collection

Stan Winfield – head of environmental agency, acting odd, would know about toxic waste and its effects, would know where toxic waste was stored

"Honey, what in the heck do you mean by a mean look Donna gave us?" Trixie demanded.

"I mean, it was mean!" Honey giggled. "I had really forgotten about it until I started these notes. When I had to go back into the reception office to get my briefcase, she was giving us the most hideous, skin-crawly, goose-bumpy look you could ever imagine. You know that saying "if looks could kill"—if that were true, they would be referring to us as the late Miss Belden and the late Miss Wheeler."

"I wonder why, she was awfully nice while we were in there," Trixie mused.

"If I had to guess, it would be jealously caused by one of two things. First would be because Governor Patman was taking us to his private study. From what I gathered only a very few people are allowed in there. She probably had her feelings hurt that we, total strangers, had been asked to the "inner sanctum." The other reason for jealousy—simply Tom. She may have a crush on him and was jealous because we happened to be in his company."

"Well, let’s hope that’s all there was to that. Are you fairly sure the look was at us and not one of the men?" Trixie asked.

"Yeah, I’m pretty sure about that, considering the direction she was looking and where we were all located at the time," Honey surmised.

Honey and Trixie covered all of the points and other names on Honey’s list. Both realized that the list was far from being all-inclusive but it was the best they had so far. Before they knew it, it was nearly 1:00 a.m.

"Yipes! I had no idea it was this late!" Trixie exclaimed as she looked at her watch. "We’d better hit the hay or we’ll be yawning too much to know where we are or what we're doing."

The girls double-checked the door lock, ensuring that both the door handle lock and the hasp lock were both securely fastened and locked. For additional security, they propped a chair at the door so to prevent the door from being opened.

Neither one thought she would sleep soundly for all the thoughts and ideas that were bouncing on tiny rubber balls in their heads. But in just a few minutes, they were both sleeping soundly and peacefully. Fortunately, neither one heard the door rattle around 1:30.

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