Mystery in the Heart of Dixie

(Continued)

Chapter 14

Both girls were enjoying a sound slumber when the simultaneous buzzing of the alarm clock and the ringing of the telephone woke them up from their reverie at 7:00 a.m.

Trixie managed to "turn off" the glass of water on the bedside table while Honey barked "Hello! Hello!" into the bristle end of her hairbrush. "We’re pitiful," Trixie mumbled as she finally found the alarm clock button and shut off the insistent buzzing.

Honey was finally successful in locating and answering the phone.

"Good morning, my Yankee doodle buddies! Do I have the pleasure of speaking to the charming Miss Wheeler or the lovable Miss Belden?"

"Tom? "Honey inquired. "This is Honey. Did anyone ever tell you that you’re disgusting at this hour of the day?"

Tom let out a belly-laugh. "That’s too kind, Honey. Most people just say I’m disgusting at any hour of the day! I’m glad I caught you before you got dressed."

Honey had finally cleared her mental fog and sat up on the side of the bed. "Actually you caught us before we’d come back to life and risen from our coffins!"

Tom laughed again. "Hey, I could get used to having you two around! I just wanted to let you know that the Governor and I will be away from about 9:30 until about 2:30 this afternoon. You’ll be in the good hands of Gail Patrick for the day. Don’t forget to wear comfortable walking shoes. Today’s your tour of the Capitol and State House."

"Thanks, we appreciate that," Honey answered.

"Oh, one other thing. There’s a reception this evening starting about 5:30 that you’ll be attending."

"A reception? Oh, dear, we really didn’t bring anything that fancy to wear," Honey lamented.

"No, no, not a formal reception—very informal, as a matter of fact. This is one that a lobbyist group is holding for the legislators. Everyone goes directly after work, so it’s just whatever you had on at work . And as the gals in the office say, with whatever make-up is left on at the end of the day. We’ve got an open invitation to these little wing-dings. There’s usually at least one a week while the Legislature is in session. I’m not much of a party-goer but the free buffets help out an old bachelor like me! I think the Trial Lawyers Association is hosting this one so the goodies ought to be tasty. They usually lay out a good spread."

"Okay, I got you. Sounds good to me. I’ll let Trixie know, as soon as I give her CPR," Honey jokingly said as she nudged Trixie in the side with her foot. "Oh, my, I think the monster is coming to life! I’d better run while I still have the chance."

"Don’t run too far," Tom joked back. "I’ll be there with breakfast around 8:30."

By 8:20 both girls were fully awake, dressed, and waiting on Tom. Honey looked striking in her tan jumpsuit with the white sailor collar, white belt with gold buckle, and tan Mootsie Tootise loafers. Her gold watch and simple gold loop earrings were her only jewelry. Trixie looked equally as nice in navy blue slacks, light-blue and yellow striped Tommy Girl shirt, blue woven belt, and navy blue flats. Trixie’s jewelry consisted of a time-worn but still precious silver ID bracelet.

"I still can’t believe we started drinking this stuff," Honey said as she sipped her coffee.

"Me either but we had to out of self-preservation at college. Those late-night study sessions were killers!" Trixie said with a shiver. "But I still have to use enough sugar to give diabetes to a small country and enough cream to make a cow jealous!"

A knock on the door brought both young ladies to their feet. Trixie looked out the peep hole. She turned to Honey and said, "You’ll never believe this, but a Krystal bag is knocking at the door."

"For heaven’s sake," exploded Honey, "let it in—quick!"

Both were shaking with laughter as they opened the door and greeted Tom.

"A gaggle of giggles this morning, are we?" Tom asked, causing another wave of laughter.

"Ooo-wee. Burgers for breakfast with enough onion breath to slay a few elephants," Honey chortled.

"Not quite. This is another Epicurean delight from Le Krystal," Tom said mimicking a French accent. "This succulent little morsel is called a Sunriser. Same square bun but this time with sausage, egg and cheese. Didn’t know if you would prefer coffee or Coke. Since I knew you drank Coke, that’s what I got. But I do see you’re sipping on Java there."

"We drink coffee only when we need to be kickstarted," Trixie explained, "but we prefer soft drinks with our food. You did good!"

Once again, the food hit the spot. Trixie began to wonder how they might get one of these restaurants in Sleepyside. She knew that it would become Mart’s home-away-from-home, especially since Wimpy had retired.

They finished up, threw the empty sacks and cups away, and rinsed out the coffee maker and mugs.

While Honey "powdered her nose," Trixie took the opportunity to speak privately to Tom. "I’ve got a favor to ask if you can do it." Trixie went on to explain. Tom said "no problem" and quickly turned the conversation to the weather as Honey came back into the room.

Tom declared it was time to "head ‘em up and move ‘em out." Honey grabbed her purse and camera and Trixie slipped a slender billfold into one pocket and clipped her cardkey into the other. They got into the black Ford, this time without any trips or falls, and headed back toward downtown Montgomery.

"I’m glad it’s after 8:30," Tom observed as he came up to the light at the intersection of Carmichael Road, where their hotel was located, and a major thoroughfare Tom called "the Bypass." "This route to town is packed like motorized ants on their way to the Mecca of picnics until about 8:30." When the light turned green, he turned right and then immediately right again at a sign that indicated the entrance to I65/I85 and the took the "Downtown Montgomery" route.

"Gail is so excited about spending the day with you. She’s got a nice tour of Capitol lined up, lunch at one of her favorite restaurants, a visit to the Legislature, and then the reception this evening," Tom informed them.

"We feel very guilty about taking away from our investigation time for this day of leisure," Trixie confessed.

Tom reassured her. "I understand how you feel, but this is necessary for the cover story we’ve told every one. Besides that, you never know what tidbit of information you may pick up in the hallway."

"Speaking of which," Honey said, "how much does Gail know about the situation? We were discussing last night she might be a good source of information but certainly didn’t want to overstep our bounds with her."

"She is a wealth of information, especially on state government, but on this particular situation, she’s a little limited. She does, of course, know about the notes, boxes, and the fact that we’re somewhat concerned about Ryan’s location. She knows absolutely nothing about his kidnapping. Except for the three of us and Governor Patman, no one else knows anything about it. But if you need to ask her something, well, you know, just out of curiosity or wanting some information about state government, you can casually ask her. You know what I mean.

"Oh, and speaking of information, I spoke with X, my buddy down at the MPD.."

Tom started to tell them.

"X?! What kind of name is that?!" Trixie cried out and then immediately was afraid that she might have insulted Tom’s friend. Tom’s chuckle told her she had not.

"His full name is Xavier McNamara Hillman, Jr. We just call him X. Sometimes X-man or X-peditor or X-terminator, just depends on the situation," Tom said, giving them the impression that Tom and X were close and had probably worked on some deep undercover cases together before. "Anyway, he’s going to run the name Jewel Hill through his databases to see what he comes up with. He asked if there was a certain area to which he should limit his search. I told him for the time being to limit it to the immediate tri-county area, Montgomery, Autauga, and Elmore Counties. I hope I said the right thing."

"That’s just what we would have said too," Trixie assured him. "This thing could be spread out to any part of the country, but we’ve got to work right now with the assumption that it’s being operated here locally. If I remember correctly, all of the postal codes stamped on the envelopes containing the notes received in the mail were local."

"That’s right, they were," Tom confirmed. "I’ll give him a call later on today and see what he says. That piece of paper lying there next to you, Honey, is the list of people I recall as having been in the car in the last two weeks. I don’t guarantee that it’s complete."

Honey looked at the list and recognized only a few of the names, including Gail, Stan Winfield, and Mrs. Patman. Honey expressed appreciation for his help as they turned into the driveway at the Capitol.

"No, it’s me who thanks the two of you for all that you’re doing to help us find Ryan."

 

Chapter 15

"’Morning!"

"Hi, Gail!" Trixie and Honey chorused together. "This is so nice of you to take the day away from your work to show us around," Honey added.

"Not a problem! In fact, I’m probably more excited than you. I’ve worked in and around the Capitol complex for 25 years and I’m still amazed at what I see. I think I just walk through and just take my surroundings for granted. It’s good for me to relive the history too."

"Before we get started, I am curious about one thing. I saw a sign out back that said something about Goat Hill. What’s that about?" Trixie inquired.

"Easy one," Gail replied. "When they chose this site on which to build the new state capitol building, this whole area was a rural farm area. This literally was where the goats hung out."

Gail began their tour by telling them about the idea that sprung up in the ‘70’s and began in earnest in the ‘80’s to restore the Capitol to the décor and color schemes of the late 1880’s. Most of the offices that had been housed in the Capitol were moved to the newly remodeled State House, including the Governor, Secretary of State, State Auditor, State Treasurer, Executive Budget Office, and the entire Legislature.

"The Capitol was in such a state of disrepair. It was a real shame," Gail said with a sad shake of her head. "When we’d come in every morning, we’d have to clean off our desks to get the paint flakes and other debris that had fallen during the night and turn our computer keyboards upside down to get the bugs outs. Pipes and electrical conduit were suspended by wires from the ceilings. The floor up on the third floor would sway when you walked across it. One of the legislators barely escaped a serious accident when a piece of the ceiling fell in."

As they started out into the hall, she told them some interesting stories that happened during the restoration, including how some doorways and fireplaces that no one knew existed were found behind plaster walls.

As she led them through the Capitol, Trixie and Honey oohed and ahed over so many of the rooms, decorations, and furniture that they soon ran out of superlatives. They visited the original Supreme Court Chamber, where the body of Confederate President Jefferson Davis lay in state; the original House and Senate Chambers; the old Archives room; and the original Governor’s suite. Trixie was fascinated by the painting method used in many of the rooms called trompe l’oeil, "fool the eye." This technique made it look as though walls were decorated with three-dimensional paneling, moulding, decorative inserts, and wainscoting, when actually it was just the way that the painting was done.

Honey was captivated by the pair of three-story spiral staircases in the entranceway, which were thought to have been designed and built by Horace King, a freed slave and a noted engineer and bridge builder.

They thought they had seen it all until Gail took them to the third floor and showed them the murals that embellished the inside of the Capitol dome. The murals depicted eight different scenes from Alabama history, including DeSoto’s meeting with the Indians; the French establishing colonies near Mobile; the surrender of the leader of the Creek Indian nation; pioneer settlers; the drafting of the state’s first Constitution; antebellum life; the inauguration of Jefferson Davis; and the industrial and agricultural prosperity from 1874 through 1930. The two girls were simply awe-struck.

"I know it won’t do any good to take pictures with this camera," Honey wailed. "The murals are just too far away for this little camera to be able to pick up the detail and do it justice."

Gail let her know that all was not lost. "Don’t despair, Honey, I believe the gift shop has postcards with the murals on the front and probably has a book or two. Did you enjoy the tour?"

"Oh, Gail, it was wonderful! How can we ever thank you?" Honey asked sincerely.

"By accompanying me to lunch! I don’t get to go out to lunch much anymore and that will be a real treat for me," Gail answered.

Trixie feigned indecision. "Welllll, I guess we can. It is so difficult for us to choke down food!"

On their way out, they stopped at the gift shop as Gail had promised. Honey quickly found the postcards with the pictures of the murals in the dome. She also found a rack where worn-out state flags from the Circle of Flags were sold. She was delighted that they had one available from New York. She purchased several of the cards as well as the New York flag. Trixie couldn’t resist buying a plush toy goat to remind her of the pleasant aspects of their time spent on Goat Hill.

Gail led the way to her car and told them to get ready for the best fried chicken ever. They left the Capitol complex and went through an area Gail referred to as the Mulberry Shoppes.

"These used to be small old houses and some clever boutique owners created a little shopping district through here," Gail told them as they saw gaily colored buildings that housed gift shops, clothing boutiques, a lingerie shop, and a travel agency. Honey’s favorite was a pink house that featured an entry walkway covered by black-and-white striped awning, with matching bows tied to the support poles. Trixie’s favorite was a seafoam green two-story structure with intricately designed trim painted a coral color.

At the end of Mulberry Street was a shopping center where they saw Martin’s Restaurant. "You either get here early around 11:00, get here late around 1:00, or expect to wait! We’re arriving late so we shouldn’t have too much trouble getting a table," Gail told them.

It wasn’t long before all three ladies were feasting on the plump fried chicken breasts with the crunchiest, most delicious crust either girl from New York had ever tasted, along with fresh green beans, fried green tomatoes, onion-and-cucumber salad, and delicious cornbread muffins slathered with melted butter.

"Well, shut my mouth!" said Honey. "Isn’t that what you in the south say when something is surprising or outstanding?"

"To tell you the truth, Honey, I don’t know anyone that says "shut my mouth" or "honey chile" or any of that other cornball stuff the movies have southerners say," Gail said. "I think that’s more of the regional stereotype stuff, just like all New Yorkers are rude and everybody that lives out west is a cowboy. But, yes, this food is great."

"I’ll deny it to my dying breath but this fried chicken is actually better than Moms makes. And you’re dead meat, Honey Wheeler, if you even hint I said it!" Trixie warned.

Honey made a zipped up motion across her mouth and then leaned forward and whispered conspiratorially to Gail, "This is just being nosy, so you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to or can’t. But, does Donna have a major crush on Tom?"

Gail giggled. "Not Tom—the object of her unabashed affection is Stan Winfield."

"For real?" Honey was surprised at that bit of information. "He seems, well, somewhat older than her and quite a different personality."

"He is probably, hmmmm, 17 years older, you’re right about that," Gail agreed. "I think that’s part of the attraction for her. Remember that commercial where the actor says, ‘confidence is very sexy’? That could be Donna’s slogan. Stan is a very confident, charming man."

The expression on Trixie’s and Honey’s faces clearly indicated disagreement. After a moment of contemplation, Gail said, "From the "are you kidding me look" you both have, you must have a different opinion. Now that I think about it, he has been acting out of character lately. Ill-tempered and very jumpy."

 

Chapter 16

"Next stop – the State House!" Gail announced as they left her office after stowing the packages and Honey’s purse in her desk for safekeeping. "That’s the building right behind the south end of the Capitol where our Legislature meets. There’s actually a tunnel that leads from the basement of the Capitol to the basement of the State House, but since it’s so pretty outside we’ll just walk around."

The girls enjoyed the outdoors and hearing about the different buildings Gail pointed out, including the Archives and History Building and the Little White House of the Confederacy. She pointed to a building whose front faced the right side of the State House. "That’s where the reception will be held tonight. It’s called the RSA Plaza."

"Oh, one of Dr. Bronner’s buildings," Trixie said, remember the name of the article she found on the Internet.

"You know of Dr. Bronner?" Gail asked with surprise in her voice.

"We’ve read about the golf enterprise and his real estate ventures," Trixie explained.

They entered the State House, went through the security checkpoint in the marble lobby, and took the elevator up to the sixth floor. They entered the glass-fronted visitors’ gallery high above the floor of the House of Representatives. They were excited to find that the House was debating the General Fund budget for the upcoming fiscal year. They listened attentively as Gail told them about how votes were electronically cast and a little about the automated system of legislative process.

When they first came in it appeared that all 105 members were present on the floor, along with a full staff of legislative employees and aides. The floor was a bevy of activity as a parade of speakers came to the podium to make a statement on some issue or to offer amendments to various parts of the bill. Trixie and Honey saw with interest the votes being cast on the amendments, as a light underneath either Yea, Nay or Abstain lit up beside each Representative’s name on a large electronic board behind the Speaker’s desk.

"Now in the Senate, it’s a little different. They don’t use the electronic vote. They either do the roll-call vote or voice vote," Gail informed them.

Trixie soon noticed that many of the members had begun leaving the chamber and two that stayed began a lengthy discussion on some unimportant point. "What’s wrong with them, Gail? Don’t they care about the funding issues of their state?" Trixie cried out in disbelief.

Gail patiently explained what was occurring. "Oh, it just appears as though they are leaving and discussing trivial matters. Much of the political process takes place off the floor. There’s only so much of the state pie to divide and every interest wants its share plus more to expand programs. And all are good causes—senior citizens, children’s issues, environment, health, public safety, the court system, corrections, Medicaid, just to name a few. Plus all legislators want a slice for projects in the district they represent. The heart of politics is give and take. What’s happening now is that the two representatives at the podium are keeping the bill alive on the floor until those that are leaving can get to the back rooms and hammer out their differences."

"Oh, I see," Trixie said. "That’s very interesting. I guess I should have been paying more attention in Mrs. Stern’s civics class."

"But it looks like those three over there aren’t bothering to go to the back rooms to argue," observed Honey as she pointed to three men standing off in a corner of the room. "Say, isn’t that Mr. Winfield?"

Gail and Trixie turned to see two of the men clearly having a heated discussion, even though they couldn’t hear what was being said. The angry faces and the violent arm gestures made it certain that Mr. Winfield and a man in a blue suit were locked in a bitter turmoil. A third man in an olive-colored suit was observing the clash.

"That’s extremely unusual," Gail commented.

"What, that they are having a disagreement? Are they usually in agreement on the issues?" Honey queried?

Gail explained the situation. "The man in the blue suit, that’s Representative Howard Singleton. His largest campaign contributors and supporters are industrialists and large PACs – that’s political action committees – that represent business groups, including the very powerful Business Council of Alabama. Actually it’s very normal to see Mr. Singleton and Stan going at it."

"Why? Isn’t Mr. Singleton for protecting the environment?" Honey asked.

"Oh everybody is for protecting the environment. Everybody wants safe drinking water, unpolluted lakes, clean air to breathe. It’s just that nobody wants to pay for it, in particular big business. To them it’s a huge hit to their bottom line that reaps them no direct business benefit," Gail explained.

She went on. "The odd thing is that, according to the rules of the House, no one other than Representatives, aides, or the legislative staff is allowed on the floor while they are in session. That keeps paid lobbyists off the floor during debates and votes and prevents any questionable activities, at least out here in public. Unless they’ve just recently hired someone, that man in the green suit doesn’t belong there."

"You don’t know that man in the olive suit, Gail? That is unusual. Honey, would you hand me your camera? I’d like to get a picture of the House chamber," Trixie said, trying to keep her voice from revealing that she felt any significance toward the verbal fight they were witnessing.

Trixie stood up and walked down the row of chairs a little way to the right in order to get the best possible shot. She framed the picture and pressed the button. The camera clicked and whirred. The camera’s flash reflected off the glass and caught the attention of the man in the olive suit. Trixie shuddered as the man raised his head and sent waves of piercing arrows at her with his dark, narrowed eyes.

Chapter 17

It was 4:30 when the ladies returned to the Governor's suite in the Capitol. Donna greeted them as they came in. "Hey, there! Gail, the Governor asked that you handle this as soon as you got back." She handed Gail a folder.

Gail winced and said her good-byes to Honey and Trixie. "I'm going to try to go with you to the reception tonight but this may have just changed my mind. Honey, don't forget that your purse and sacks are in my office."

Donna got up and touched Honey on the shoulder. "I'll get those for you and keep them under my desk. Right now the Governor and Tom are in the Governor's Office and they wanted you to come in right away." She led them back to the office and closed the door as she left.

"Did you have a nice day, girls?" Governor Patman asked.

"Oh, yes! Definitely!"

"Gail was the greatest!"

"Fried chicken at Martin's, I'll bet," he said, with a twinkle in his eye.

Trixie pretended to wipe crumbs off her face. "Does it show?!"

"Let's just say I know that Gail hasn't had her Martin's fix in a while." Governor Patman then turned serious. "But back to the business at hand. Tom has a report to give you."

"Good," said Trixie. "Then we'll need to try to contact Dan to see what information they were able to determine from the tape. Did X come up with anything?"

"Yes, he did," reported Tom. "But how useful it is remains to be seen." He handed Trixie a copy of what X had faxed to him. "You can see that he came up with eight people with the name of Jewel Hill in the tri-county area. By doing some cross checks, however, he found that three of them are now deceased. Those are the ones with a line drawn through them.

"Two are in nursing homes; those are marked NH. Of the three remaining, we learned that one has been on a tour of Europe for the last month and isn't due back until next week. That leaves two that may be some kind of link.

"Jewel Hill "A" is Norma Jewel Smith Hill. She is a housewife here in Montgomery. Her husband is Nathan Robert Hill, the manager of the Food World grocery store on the Atlanta Highway.

"Jewel Hill "B" is Jewel Priscilla Hill, a single lady who works as a valuation analyst for the Autauga County revenue office. She owns a townhouse in a Wynlakes, very posh neighborhood in East Montgomery, and drives a new Jaguar. She doesn't seem to have any other sources of income. X looked at the salary scale for her position and, while $35,000 a year would provide a comfortable living, it certainly would not support her high life style."

Both detectives had listened intently to Tom's information. Trixie spoke first. "I think it's obvious that the only suspect we have among the Jewel Hills is this last one - Jewel Priscilla Hill."

Honey nodded her agreement and asked Tom, "Can X run some background checks for us?"

"Knowing him the way I do, I imagine he already has that in the works. I'll check with him tonight." Tom took out a small spiral-bound notepad from his inner jacket pocket and made himself a note. "I may have another connection as well. My mother also works for Autauga County. Believe me, if there's any scoop on Miss Jewel Priscilla Hill around the courthouse, my mother will know it!"

"Yea, Mom!" exclaimed Trixie.

Governor Patman rejoined the conversation. "Jewel Priscilla Hill. That name sounds so familiar Where do I know that name from?" He stared intently at the blotter pad on his desk as though the answer would magically arise. "Oh, well, maybe it will come to me later."

Honey looked at her watch and turned the face where Trixie could see the time. "Isn't it time to call Dan?"

"It sure is. I'm really anxious to hear what he has to say about the tape. May we use the phone in here, Governor?" Trixie requested.

"Of course, Trixie. Do you prefer this to be a private call?" Governor Patman asked courteously.

"Oh, no, not at all. In fact, I was thinking it might be nice to put Dan on the speakerphone so that we could all hear what he has to say," Trixie replied. "I'll get him on the line and then you can activate the speaker."

Trixie reached into her pocket for her billfold and retrieved the piece of paper with Dan's Washington DC phone numbers on it. As she began dialing, Tom stepped to the reception office and asked Mr. Barnes to make sure that no one came up to the office door until they all came out. Honey borrowed a pen and writing pad.

"Dan, hi! It's Trixie," Trixie spoke into the handset. "Do you have something for us?" Trixie waited for his response and then continued, "Great! Hold on while I put you on the speakerphone so we can all hear."

She handed the handset to the Governor.

"Dan, you're on the speakerphone now. I'd like to introduce you to Alabama's Governor Patman and Tom Farley, his Chief of Security."

Dan's full rich voice came through the speaker as though he were in the room. "Governor Patman, this is certainly a surprise and a pleasure. Hello to you too, Tom. Trixie didn't tell me who or what all was involved in the case, so I'm a little flabbergasted right now."

Governor Patman's responded warmly, "Dan, I'm glad to meet you, even if it is by voice, at least for the time being. We hate to keep you in the dark on the details but once everything is settled I certainly want you informed of everything's that gone on. "

"Not a problem, sir. Being in law enforcement, especially in the investigation side, I understand completely. Are you ready?" Dan asked.

"Sure thing. Fire away. We're taping this conversation now," Trixie said as Tom pressed the Record button on the telephone set, "and hopefully Honey will remember to take notes this time!"

"Must be an inside joke," Dan replied as he heard Honey go "grrrrrrrr" at Trixie's remark.

Dan started off by saying, "Let me tell you that the top sound analyst in the country worked with me on this. Dr. Ramirez suggested that we bring in Dr. Laurie Powers, the head of the sound lab. Otherwise we would not be finished yet. I was amazed at how she was able to electronically separate the sounds and then match the patterns to sounds already programmed into the computer. Some of the sounds were initially identified just from the computer she must have in her head. She is awesome! So put Dr. Powers on your list of people to thank big time when this is all done."

"You've got it, Dan. I hope to be able to do something nice for all of you once this nightmare is over," promised the Governor.

"Just having this learning experience and your trust in me to handle it is thanks enough, sir. Anyway, just sit down and buckle up because what Dr. Powers found and the conclusions we reached will blow you away. First, the voice of the caller. Definitely New York, most likely second or third generation Italian living in the Bronx area."

With that Trixie gave Honey a thumbs-up for her observation that the caller was probably from New York.

Dan went on. "Dr. Powers also suspected that the caller probably had some kind of dental malformation since she heard a distinctive whistling sound. Her best guess is that some front teeth are missing or misaligned.

"Next, the background sounds. The droning sound is a small airplane. From the change in decibels and tempo, the plane is taking off away from the location of the caller. The airplane is more than likely either a Cessna 929 or Piper Cub Cadet III.

"The noise that sounds something like "zzzzzzittt" is a circular saw. From the resonance, it's cutting through something thick but not very wide, like a 2-by-4.

"The last thing we were able to pick out was a farm animal--a cow. Holstein, black and white."

"Holy cow!" Trixie exploded. "No pun intended! Are you serious? She could tell that?!"

"Gotcha'!" Dan roared. "Actually there was an animal. We picked up the faint whinny of a horse, probably more than one. Those sounds were barely audible and pretty much drowned out by everything else."

"Dan, it's Tom. I am truly shocked and amazed. I listened to that tape over and over again and I never even knew some of those background noises existed. I thought it was just a hum on the telephone lines. And to think we have the technology to not only separate them but to identify them down to airplane type. I am blown away."

"You're not the only one, Tom. This has been a real eye-opener for me."

"Dan, was Dr. Powers able to deduce anything about the voice that we are assuming to be Ryan Jordan's?" Governor Patman asked.

"Yes, sir, a bit. Since no one here has ever heard him speak before and without a voice print from him in the computer, we cannot make a judgment as to whether it's actually Mr. Jordan. Dr. Powers did remark that she did not believe that his mouth was as battered as the caller indicated. Otherwise "Jewel" would have come out more like "Thewel." But she did say he sounded like he was drugged."

"Dan, it sounds like Ryan is being held in a low-populated area when you consider a small airplane taking off and the horses, maybe on or near a farm somewhere," Honey observed. "Is that a good assumption?"

"That's an extremely good assumption, Honey," Dan said, orally patting his friend on the back. "Dr. Powers said the exact same thing since small planes are sometimes used as crop dusters."

"You don't know how much we appreciate this, Dan. Once again, one BWG comes to the aid of another--just like when we were kids," Trixie said affectionately.

Dan was glad that they were not on a videophone otherwise they would have seen his flushed cheeks. "No prob, girlfriends."

Governor Patman and Tom both expressed their gratitude and good-byes and then broke the connection.

Trixie slouched down in her chair. "Whew, I'm worn out! What a mental exercise. I'm like you, Tom. I am astonished at what they were able to determine. That really gives us a lot to go on."

Honey stood up to stretch and smooth her pants legs. "It makes me think that we need to go back to school and take some classes in the latest criminology techniques."

Trixie hugged herself, "Oooo, just the thoughts of it makes my head hurt! But I know what you mean. I am humbled."

Governor Patman suddenly banged his hand on his desk and cried aloud, "I know who she is!"

The other three looked at him as though he had just announced he was from Mars. Politely, Tom asked, "Who, sir?"

"Jewel Priscilla Hill," he responded. "That's Glenallen's daughter. He's one of the wealthiest men in this part of the country, although you'd never guess it by looking at him. He's the most unpretentious man you'd want to meet. Made a fortune off 2,000 acres of scrub land down in the middle of Florida that his grandfather left to him. Y'all ever heard of Disney World?"

"You're kidding!" Tom exclaimed. "I never knew that. So you say this Jewel Priscilla Hill is his daughter?"

"Yep. If you had said Cilla Hill I would have known in an instant," he continued. "That's what they call her. That would explain how a $35,000-a-year employee can own a $300,000 townhome and drive an $85,000 car."

"Yes, it would," Trixie said, disappointed that one of their leads had apparently come to nothing.

"Well, we might have lost that angle but look at all the other information we've gotten today!" Honey replied, sensing her friend's frustration.

"You're right. I guess I had put too much emphasis on finding Jewel Hill. She may turn up any way. It may be an alias or someone X hasn't found in the databases yet," Trixie said, shaking off her temporary doldrums.

Governor Patman smiled at the girls. "I really admire you two. I know I haven't known you personally for very long, but it doesn't take a genius to see the perfect partnership. Maybe I can make up for taking away Jewel Hill, at least for the time being. I'm making a present of Tom to you tomorrow. He's all yours for as long as you need him."

"Super!" Trixie cried out, returning to her usual bouncy self. "But won't you be needing him here?"

"I'll be gone all day to Huntsville and Tuscaloosa. I'll have Mr. Barnes and Mr. Wyatt with me. I know if I were in Tom's shoes, I'd rather spend the day with two pretty young ladies than with me."

Trixie and Honey blushed simultaneously. Tom fiddled with the cuff of his sleeves and picked off unseen lint off his jacket.

Tom cleared his voice. "Well, it's about time we wandered over to the reception. Are you going with us, Governor?"

Governor Patman shook his head wearily. "No, thanks, Tom. I've had just about all I can handle for the day. I sure don't want to have to freeze on a fake smile and act all gracious. You go on over with Trixie and Honey, and I'll get Barbara to come get me. We're going over to Mark and Deb's tonight anyway."

 

Chapter 18

With the package and purse retrieved, Trixie, Honey, Tom, and Donna walked down the hall toward the south entrance. Honey inhaled as they stepped outside. "This fresh air is so nice. It's such a nice, peaceful feeling here."

Donna replied in a resolute tone, "Yes, it is. Stan, uh, I mean, Mr. Winfield works very hard at trying to keep it that way. You just wouldn't believe what he goes through trying to prevent industrial polluters from taking over our state."

Honey and Trixie inwardly smiled at Donna's outburst on Mr. Winfield's behalf, especially after Gail's revelation at lunch.

Honey proudly held up her bag as they walked past the Circle of Flags. "I am so glad they had a New York state flag for sale. I don't think anyone at home has one. Do you, Trix?"

"No, I don't. You know, it might be nice if we had that one framed and hung in the office. Maybe we could get a plaque to go underneath it saying where it came from."

"Great idea!"

The foursome made their way diagonally across Washington Street to the RSA Plaza Building. A group of men and women wearing name tags that indicated they were legislative staff fell in behind them as they walked up the steps to the entrance. Once inside Tom led the way to the elevators and pressed the UP button. The doors to one of the cars opened and they quickly stepped inside. Tom pressed the button for the sixth floor and the elevator car whisked them up to the floor where the reception was being held.

A rush of noise from the activity taking place hit them as they exited the elevator. Many small groups stood around, talking, laughing, some were having quite serious conversations, and some were vying to earn the title of "class clown."

"I hope you don't think I'm rude," Donna said apologetically, "but I've got some friends I need to join. I hope you don't mind."

"Of course not! We'll probably see you later," Honey said graciously.

Tom escorted Honey and Trixie into the main reception room. Three six-foot tables were lined up end to end and were positively groaning from the amount of food that had been placed on them. Chicken fingers with bar-be-que and sweet and sour sauce, crisp raw vegetables with ranch dressing, corn chips with a chili-cheese dip, a huge bowl of boiled shrimp with cocktail sauce, fruit trays with poppyseed dip, cheese and cracker trays, three large fried onion blossoms with a spicy cream sauce, fried mushrooms, Swedish meatballs, and potato skins topped with melted cheese and bacon bits were part of the feast that Honey and Trixie could see. Bars had been set up on the two side walls, as well as another in the adjoining room where round tables had been set up.

Trixie and Honey looked around in amazement. "This could rival some of the spreads you've had the Manor House, Honey. Are you sure all this is free, Tom?" Trixie asked.

"Yep. It's politics in action--lobbyist groups trying to make a favorable impression on the legislators. The Trial Lawyers have a couple bills they're trying to get through but more importantly some they are trying to kill, especially the one that limits the amount of judgment in civil actions," Tom explained.

"Farley, you dog, you!"

The thunderous voice behind them made Trixie and Honey jump and gasp for breath.

"Here you are in the company of two gorgeous females and you don't invite me along. Kept 'em both for yourself. What a friend!" chided the newcomer with liquid brown eyes and close-cropped curly black hair.

"X! Ole' buddy! What's up?" Tom enthusiastically slapped his friend on the back. "How did you know I'd be here?"

"Simple deduction, my good man," X replied, twirling an imaginary mustache. "It's Tuesday and the Legislature is in session. Drove by and saw a stream of folks headed this way from the State House and knew your stomach would lead you here." He then turned to the 'gorgeous females.' "Since my so-called friend here has forgotten his manners, let me introduce myself. I am Xavier McNamara Hillman, Junior, at your service!" he said, making a sweeping bow.

Trixie and Honey giggled as Tom shoved X on the shoulder. "X, these ladies are Trixie Belden and Honey Wheeler, visiting us from the great state of New York. Ladies, I'm sure by now you've realized this is the world-famous X, the man who doesn't know the meaning of the word humble."

Trixie groaned, "Oh, no, not another Mart!" Honey laughed as Trixie explained, "Mart is my almost-twin, only 11 months older. He, too, is--how shall I say this?--very unmodest."

"How do you like this little get-together?" X asked, sweeping his hand around.

"Very impressive. Looks like everyone here is really enjoying themselves," Trixie observed.

"Yes, especially those three over there," Honey said pointing to a group standing in the far corner. "Quite a different demeanor that they had earlier today."

Trixie was dumbfounded when she saw Stan Winfield, Representative Singleton, and the mysterious man in the olive suit, laughing and carrying on like they were best buds. Trixie was about to reply to Honey, but when she turned to respond she saw that Honey has disappeared. "Where'd she go?"

"Don't look now," Tom said, "but I think she's headed for the party in the corner."

Trixie stood rooted to the floor, mouth wide open, as she saw Honey walk headlong into "mystery man," causing him to drop his glass and spill dressing-covered vegetables and bar-be-que sauce on his shirt and coat. The livid expression on his face was enough to make Trixie shudder and take hold of X's arm. "What is she doing? Has she gone mad?"

From across the room, all three watched in amazement as they saw Honey gesture out apologies She tucked her purse, camera bag, and package up under her arm and grabbed napkins away from the other two men. She then began wiping his shirt and coat. The man in olive roughly pushed her hand away and they could see him mouth what they assumed to be angry words at Honey.

Honey then bent down and picked up the plate and put the scattered vegetables back on it. Then, using a napkin, she carefully picked up the glass. She then spoke a few more words to the still fuming man and headed back across the room.

"Honey, what were you thinking?" Trixie blurted out as soon as Honey was in hearing distance. Honey turned so that her body blocked her hands from the view of the trio of men who were still staring at her. To Trixie's amazement, she handed the glass to X, turning it so that he could grasp it where the napkin was.

"How quickly can you get fingerprints off and run through NCIC?" Honey had an urgency in her voice.

X picked up the tone and knew this was business. "It would normally take several hours if we knew we were dealing with one set of prints. I can't image how many may be on that aside from your gentlemen friend there--someone packed the glass in a box to bring it up here, someone else set it out, the bartender. That makes it quite a lengthy process."

Honey smiled slyly. "I think I can eliminate all but one. Tilt the glass back. Look there at the brownish sticky imprint. I noticed he had some kind of sauce on his thumb, bar-be-que would be my guess. You should be able to find a nice print there."

"Wow, good work, girl!" X complimented her.

"And believe me, that's high praise coming from the X-Man," Tom added.

Trixie was just now finding her voice. "What on earth made you do that? I thought I was going to die!"

Honey sniffed. "You're not the only one that got suspicious about the mystery man on the House floor today. Don't you think for one minute that I didn't know what you were doing with the camera. Taking a picture of the House floor when I had already taken five or six."

"My fault," Trixie apologized. "I should never underestimate you, Honey Wheeler. Good going!"

"Speaking of going, it sounds like I'd better go myself and see what mysteries I can solve," X said, holding up the glass.

"Thanks, you've already been a great help," Trixie told him as he left.

"Well now, I'm going to attack the buffet. Won't you join me?" Tom asked.

"Not me," Honey said quickly. "I'm still too stuffed from breakfast and lunch."

"Same here," Trixie agreed, "but I am thirsty. Can I get you something, Tom?"

"A Sprite, please. I'll just meet you back here." Tom walked toward the buffet.

"Oh darn!" Honey cried out, reaching up toward her ear. "My earring just fell out!"

They both began looking in Honey's hair and then on the floor for the missing earring.

"Look and see if it rolled under the table," Trixie said, pointing to a nearby table.

Honey placed her belongings on the table and Trixie held up the tablecloth while Honey looked. "Yep, you were right. Here it is," Trixie heard Honey say.

Just then Trixie felt someone brush by her. She looked up just in time to see the olive-suited man running toward the elevator. "Honey, he's got your camera!" Trixie screamed.

"Yow!" Honey yelled as she tried to raise up while still under the table and run after the thief.

Trixie dropped the tablecloth and ran after "mystery man." She rounded the corner just in time to hear the elevator doors close. She banged hard on the DOWN button, hoping that the elevator would sense her emergency and open quickly. "DING!" she heard behind her. Trixie turned and almost knocked down a service person carrying a large plate of chicken fingers.

"Oh, excuse me!" Trixie cried as she leaped into the elevator, pressing the first floor button and the Close button as quickly as possible. "Come on, come on! Let's go!"

When the elevator reached the first floor, Trixie practically clawed the doors open. Without waiting for them to fully open, she slid through and looked toward the entrance doors. There he was--crossing the street!

Trixie raced down the hallway, skidding, almost losing her balance as she stepped from the carpeted hallway to the marble-floored lobby.

Trixie burst through the front doors and down the front steps. At the street, she had to come to a screeching halt so that she wouldn't be hit by an oncoming truck. The driver whirled his finger around his temple to indicate he thought Trixie was loco.

"Yeah and you, too, buddy!" Trixie yelled. As soon as the truck went by she ran across the street. She saw the side door of the State House closing. Oh please don't let me lose him now, Trixie prayed. Trixie rushed up to the door and almost jerked her arm out of its socket as she yanked on the locked door.

"Oh no it's locked!" she cried out loud. "My card key!" Trixie pulled the plastic electronic key from her pocket and swiped it through the reader as Tom had instructed. Click! Trixie thought that was the nicest sound she'd ever heard. She pulled the door open and took the few steps to the main hallway. She quickly looked right and saw it dead-ended and then left. "Eureka!" Trixie mentally cried as she saw an olive-draped leg disappear to the right at the end of the hall.

Trixie madly dashed toward the end of the hall, giving some passing thought to the security cameras mounted on the ceiling. I guess they're getting an eyeful now.

She reached the end of the hall and turned right and went through the door. As she came through the door, she saw that she was at the top of some steps. At the landing there was an exit door. Trixie scrambled down to the landing and peered out. About the time she was thinking that she didn't see anything a clack of a door shutting made her realize the man had continued down. She followed suit and found herself at the junction of two hallways. To her left she thought she heard the faint ding of an elevator. Well, now I've got a 50-50 shot here. I might as well go toward that sound.

Trixie went only a short distance before she saw the doors to a small elevator and pushed the Call button. "Okay, somebody give me a clue as to whether he went up or down," Trixie beseeched some unknown fairy godmother. The doors opened and to her great relief, she saw that there was only one choice--the elevator only went to two floors, the one she was on and one below. "Thank you!" Trixie said to the patron saint of strong-headed young detectives.

Trixie pressed the Down button, the doors closed, but nothing else happened. She pressed the button again but still the elevator sat unmoving. "Not now! This can't be happening!" Then she saw the blinking red light on a card reader. "Aha!" Trixie swiped her card key through the reader. YES! The car began its descent.

When it opened Trixie bolted into a long hallway as quiet as the proverbial tomb. She came to a full stop and looked around for an instant. There was carpet on the floor but the gray concrete walls surrounding her and light fixtures handing down from the ceiling told her she was not in a normal building hallway. Man, is it ever eerie down here. By the way, self, where is "here"? Trixie restarted her run down the hall and continued on as it bent to the left. This must the tunnel between the State House and the Capitol Gail told us about.

Trixie stopped abruptly as she came to an escalator in front of her, a bank of elevators on her right, and a hallway that continued behind the escalator. There was no sign of her olive-suited prey. Great! Now which way? I don't guess that fairy godmother is going to give me another hint here.

Just then a strong arm grabbed Trixie around her neck and pulled her into a shadowy recess in the wall. Trixie began to choke as she struggled to pull the man's arm off her throat. A frightening thought crossed her mind. No one knows where I am.

 

Chapter 19

Trixie knew that she was within a millimeter of having the life squeezed out of her. The man's arm was within a hairbreadth of crushing her windpipe. She felt her legs go weak and then, fearfully, she realized she couldn't feel her fingers and feet.

The man's hot breath growled in her ear, "If you try to scream, it will be the last thing you say--or do. Do you understand that?"

Trixie was so weakened she could barely make her head nod. Even in her hazed state, her brain registered the thought, "The voice! Not the one on the phone but similar. I know we're on the right track. I've got the tell Honey and Tom…if I live that long."

Thankfully, the man loosened his grip enough for Trixie to feel like the immediate danger had subsided. The man suddenly let go, violently spun her around, and dug his fingers into her shoulders. Trixie then got her first up-close and personal look at the prey-turned-captor. He was rather short, not quite as tall as Honey. Every part of the man seemed to be a study in contrast of a once hard life now turned to a soft life filled with luxuries. Styled black hair topped an acne-scarred face; hard black eyes peered out from under professionally trimmed brows; the gums above the capped teeth showed signs of former gum disease; the Armani suit whose sleeves covered all but the end of a long scar that ended in the back of his left hand; a soft paunch replaced what used to be a hard, flat stomach.

If the situation had been much different, Trixie would have burst out laughing at the brown and cream-colored stains on the hand-tailored Dior shirt and silk tie. As it was, she was at least able to get some satisfaction at knowing that both were ruined. Trixie also saw Honey's camera bag slung over his shoulder.

"I don't like snoopy little girls from New York following me around, taking my picture," the man said in a gravelly, threatening voice.

Uh, oh, he knows who we are, Trixie thought. Aloud with a calmness she definitely was not feeling, she replied, "Well, I guess it's a good thing for both of us that it's not illegal for people from New York to visit Alabama."

The man's stare was so intense Trixie felt as though her soul was being violated.

"I think we need to get out of here and go for a little ride. It's a nice evening. We have much to talk about and share. Yes, you definitely have something I'd like for you to share with me," the man sneered, looking at her slowly from head to toe, licking his lips as his eyes lingered on her torso. "You'll be begging me for more. And then you'll be begging me for life."

Trixie knew what she was in for: a brutal defilement of her womanhood, followed by a torturous death at the hands of a man who probably issued death orders as easily as other people ordered dinner.

Now that she could breathe, Trixie's strength began to return, as was the feeling to her hands. She had to get away, but how?

The whir in the elevator shaft in the wall behind the man caused him to involuntarily jump and loosen his grip. It was just the opening that Trixie needed. Summoning all her reserves, she jerked her right knee up, catching him in his gut.

"Oof!" the man let out as he released his grip on Trixie to grasp his stomach. Trixie scrambled out of the recess and tried to run back toward the tunnel. Unfortunately she had not fully regained all the feeling in her lower extremities. Her ankles wobbled and her feet tangled up. She fell hard into the floor, getting a burn on her cheek as she slid across the carpet.

"You little witch!" screamed the man as he came after her.

Trixie managed to get to her feet and almost get upright when the man grabbed her from behind by the neck of her shirt and the waist of her pants. He slung her around and then let go. Trixie flew into the sharp edge of a support column just in front of the escalator, her right forearm catching the brunt of the force.

"OWWWWW!" Trixie shrieked, as she clutched her arm and fell again to the floor. She rolled over and looked up to see the man getting prepared to charge her again.

"Hey, what's going on out there?" A voice came from the direction of the tunnel.

For the zillionth time in her life, Trixie mentally whispered "Thank you, thank you."

Trixie got to her feet and hand-pressed her blouse and slacks as the man smoothed his hair and jacket.

"Just remember--rats get exterminated," he hissed.

"And so do cockroaches," Trixie shot back.

Trixie thought she had never seen a more blessed vision as a uniformed Capitol Police officer came into view.

"Miss, are you okay?" asked the officeras he approached them.

One part of Trixie wanted to spill everything, to tell this officer, whose tag read Wilkerson, how she was attacked and threatened and to demand that the madman be hauled away. But the professional in Trixie, the part that knew she had an obligation to Governor Patman and to Ryan to keep her mouth shut, replied, "Yes, sir, everything's fine."

Officer Wilkerson eyed Trixie and then the man suspiciously. "I could have sworn I heard you scream."

Trixie gave what she hoped to be a plausible explanation. "I just got tangled up in my own feet and fell. I banged my head and arm when I hit the floor. I guess I did let out somewhat of a howl. I'm just a klutz. Just ask my friend Tom Farley. He'll tell you how I usually trip and fall all over myself."

Officer Wilkerson raised an eyebrow. "Ah, you're the MIA friend Tom asked us to look for." He then keyed the button on his communication radio. "D1, this is D10."

He let go of the button and a raspy voice answered, "Go ahead, D10."

"Contact A2 and let him know we've got an All Clear on his call. Tell him to hold his position and we'll meet him there, ETA 10 minutes."

"10-4, D10."

The man in the olive suit was beginning to sweat under his collar. "Is it okay if I go now, Officer? I'm already late for an appointment with Representative Howard Singleton."

Officer Wilkerson was clearly not impressed with the name-dropping of a House member. He'd been around way too long for that. "No, sir, not just yet."

The man acted like he wanted to get arrogant but a pat to the officer's gun holster convinced him to keep quiet.

"Now just a few minutes ago, our security cameras caught you running down the hall of the second floor of the north wing of the State House," the officer directing his statement at the man and then he looked at Trixie. "And then we saw you, just a minute later, hot on his heels. Just what was that about?"

The man cleared his throat and adjusted his tie before he spoke. "I just told you I was late for a meeting with Representative Singleton."

"Uh, huh, and you, miss?"

"Well, Officer," Trixie said sweetly as she reached over and removed Honey's camera bag from the man's shoulder, "this gentleman accidentally picked up my camera bag, and I was just trying to catch up with him to retrieve it."

Officer Wilkerson's instincts told him both stories were a bunch of baloney but there was nothing further he could do.

"Okay, mister, you go on to your meeting. You come with me, miss. Mr. Farley is waiting for you in the lobby of the RSA Plaza."

*      *      *

"Oh my gosh! Trixie! Oh, your face! What happened?" Honey cried out and ran toward Trixie. She threw her arms around her friend and buried her tear-stained faced in Trixie's sandy curls.

"Ow, ow," Trixie grimaced. "Honey! Tom! I think we've got a link to …" She became aware that many people had gathered around to watch the scene unfolding. "Well, you know."

"Never mind about that," Tom said with deep concern in his voice. "How are you? What happened?" As he asked, he took Trixie by her right elbow.

"Eeeeee--that's kinda sore right there," Trixie said between clenched teeth.

"Whoa--let's take a look at that," Tom said, leading her to a bench in the lobby. He then turned to the Capitol Police officer, "Thanks, Charlie. I appreciate your finding Trixie. I think she'll be okay now."

"All right, Tom, as long as you're taking responsibility for her," Officer Wilkerson said. "You take care, miss."

"Yes, thank you so much," Trixie replied sincerely. I owe you my life and I can't even thank you properly, Trixie thought.

Officer Wilkerson touched two fingers to his forehead, turned, and left the building.

Trixie sat down and rolled up her right sleeve. She held up her arm for Tom to inspect. As she did she lifted her chin, revealing her neck.

"Trixie!" Honey cried in distress. "Your neck is turning purple!"

"I'll fill you in on the details later," she said cocking her head toward the people still gathered in the lobby.

"You've got quite a knot there. I think we need to let a doctor check you out," Tom pronounced.

Trixie started to protest but Tom's expression told her that he was in charge. Tom pulled out his cell phone, pressed in a number, and pressed Send. He listened for a second, then punched in another number, and then pressed End. "Beeper number" was his short explanation.

In just a few minutes, the cell phone rang and the young detectives heard Tom's side of the conversation. "Hello. Hey, where are you? Good, I'm on my way with a patient for you. No, it's not the Governor. It's a special friend of ours. Gotcha. See you in about 30 minutes."

He pressed End and placed the phone back into its holder.

"You gals just wait here while I go get the car," Tom instructed. "And don't go ANYWHERE with ANYBODY until I get back."

"Yes, sir," Trixie replied meekly.

During the 20-minute ride to the East Montgomery Medical Center, Trixie filled them in on the details of her chase and the connection of the voice on the phone with the voice of the man with whom she had just tangled.

She could see Tom clench his fist she talked. Honey was fighting back tears. "Oh, Trixie," Honey lamented, "he could have killed you! That bruise on your throat shows how tightly he had you. I don't know what I would have done if he had..." Honey let the sentence trail off; but everyone knew what she had left unsaid.

"Thank goodness, we don't have to worry about that, Honey," Trixie said, trying to soothe her friend. "Let's just concentrate on what we learned and how we can use that information to find Ryan."

Tom pulled into a "Reserved for Doctors" spot near the entrance to the hospital's emergency room.

"I don't mean to question you, but is it okay to park here?" Honey asked.

Tom grinned. "Rank does have its privileges, you know. Just kidding--sort of. Trust me though, it's okay."

"Oh, no, not that way," he said as Trixie and Honey headed for the main entrance to the ER. "We're going through here."

He led them through a "Staff Only" door and straight back to the treatment area. A chubby blond nurse behind the counter looked up with a sharp look on her face. She then saw who it was. "Hi, Tom! Long time no see! Y'all just go in Room 3 there on the left. I'll let Dr. Dana know that you're here."

Trixie whistled appreciatively. "Wow, rank really does have its privileges."

Trixie and Honey entered the treatment room and Trixie sat on the end of the bed. Tom stood in the doorway watching for the doctor, and for any trouble that might have followed them.

A slender young woman with long brown hair clipped with a gold barrette at the nape of the neck and wearing a white coat emerged from the exam room just across the hall. "Well, hey there, good lookin'!" She walked straight toward Tom and wrapped her arms around him. Their embrace lasted a bit longer and was a little tighter than just a friend-to-friend hug.

Trixie poked Honey in the arm and Honey responded by wiggling her eyebrows up and down. Both girls tried hard to suppress giggles but wound up sputtering and spitting like adolescent boys who had seen their sister kissing her boyfriend.

Tom looked up and caught them in the act. He just rolled his eyes in mock consternation. "I guess it's time for introductions here. Dr. April Dana, meet your patient, Trixie Belden, and her ever-faithful sidekick, Honey Wheeler."

"Hi! Now, let's see what we have," Dr. Dana said as she took hold of Trixie's right arm. She examined the arm in the bruised area. She poked and prodded and got enough yelps and moans from Trixie to know that further x-rays were needed.

"What do you think, Dr. Dana?" Honey asked.

"Please, call me April. Trixie's arm has been traumatized but to what extent I won't know until we take x-rays. I'm also concerned about that contusion on her throat and the abrasion on her cheek. How did that happen, Trixie?"

'Let's just say that I got a bear hug that went awry and leave it at that," Trixie weakly responded, her eyes asking Tom to help her out.

"It's okay, April. I'll fill you in later on that," Tom said, catching Trixie's imploring look.

"Okay," April said, but her tone clearly indicated she was not pleased with the response. She stuck her head out in the hall. "Robin, ask Sandra to come take Trixie back to X-Ray." She then reached into a supply cabinet and removed a silver tube. "I'm going to put some antibiotic cream on your cheek. It will not only soothe the burning but will prevent it from becoming infected."

"Dr. Dana, it's Sandra. Robin says you've got a patient for me," said a voice with a lively Australian accent from outside the exam room.

"Sandra? Hold on a second." April put away the cream, washed her hands, and then stepped out into the hall. In just a moment she returned. "Okay, Trixie, Sandra's going to take you back to X-Ray. We'll know more about what you've done to yourself after that. Honey can go with you. Is there someone around here who might like to buy a weary old doc a cup of coffee?"

Tom's eyes sparkled as he answered, "Well, I guess I might be persuaded. See y'all later."

After the x-rays were completed, Trixie and Honey returned to the exam room and waited for April to return. Robin came in and assisted Trixie with completing a patient information sheet, including her name, address, age, medical history, and what medications she was currently on or allergic to.

Trixie was becoming very tired but the pain from the poking and twisting on her arm made it impossible for her to relax. Honey did her best to try to keep Trixie's mind off the discomfort and away from the case, but she could see from the Trixie's occasional facial expressions that she was not totally successful.

About a half-hour after Trixie had returned from X-Ray, April came back to see her. "Okay, do you want this in doctorese or in plain English?"

"Plain English, puh-leez! My oldest brother Brian is a medical doctor and my almost-twin Mart uses words of five syllables when two would do nicely. I'm just plain, ole' Trixie."

April laughed. "That's the way most patients want to hear it. Okay, this is it. Your arm here," pointing to the now yellow-and-purple mark on Trixie's right forearm," is not broken all the way through. It is cracked, but thank goodness the crack is just a small one. However, as a precaution I am going to have a cast put on it just to give it some protection. I would suggest that the cast be left on for two or three weeks. Just don't get it wet.

"Stop by to see me before you leave town and I'll have a package prepared for you to take to your doctor back home. I see from your chart that you are not allergic to acetaminophen or codeine, so I'm going to give you several sample packets of Tylenol 3 to help ease the pain. Go ahead and take two now. You can take more every four to six hours as you feel is necessary. If you run out, I'll need to write you a prescription."

"Thank you so much. I appreciate your looking out after me," Trixie told her. "Don't I need to fill out some insurance or billing paperwork or something?"

"No, just consider this one on the house. Of course, I'll have to buy off Sandra and Robin, but that won't be too difficult," April responded. "They love my Snickers pie! Oh! I almost forget. Just stop by any drugstore and get an over-the-counter tube of antibiotic cream for the abrasion on your face. There's no need in bandaging it unless you are going to be in a place where it might get dirty."

Trixie again expressed her sincere appreciation to April. An orthopedic technician came in and applied the plaster cast and sent the trio on their way. After a quick stop by the drug store, Tom returned the girls to their hotel. He admonished them to make sure the door was locked and not to open it until he came back the next morning.

"Are you sure you don't know my brother Jim?" asked Honey, teasing him for his overprotectiveness but being very grateful for it.

"I've got an errand to run first thing in the morning, so I won't be sure until around 9:00 or 9:30, so you just pack it in until then," Tom told them.

"You've got it, Tom. These Tylenol 3 are starting to take effect, so I'm on my way to dreamland now. Thanks again." Trixie waved goodbye and shut the door, once again double checking all the locks.

By the time Honey had returned from her shower and brushing her teeth, Trixie was in a deep sleep. Honey smiled at her friend and pulled the covers over her shoulders. When will you ever learn, Trixie Belden?

 

Chapter 20

Honey has just turned over and peered at the clock that read 7:30 when the most appalling sound came through the walls from just outside their hotel door. It was the sound of metal scraping against cement, not unlike the skin-crawling sound of fingernails across a blackboard.

"Let the dead rest in peace," Trixie groaned and threw the pillow over her head.

Honey giggled. "Okay, you corpse, just lie still and I'll see what's going on."

Honey threw back the covers, slid on her slippers, and padded her way across the bedroom and living areas to the window. The sight outside the window left her in shock.

"Hello, Earth to Honey, come in, Honey," Trixie shouted playfully as she sat up in bed. "What's the scoop from outside?"

"Ohmigosh, scoop is right! You aren't going to believe this! We've really stepped in it this time, Trixie. Come take a look!"

Trixie yawned and stretched and then made her way over to the window. She stood there completely nonplussed, mouth wide open, eyes rounder than the proverbial saucers.

What confronted their optical senses was too bizarre to register as being real. Garbage, probably at least a Dumpster full, had been emptied onto the sidewalk outside their door. The scraping sound they had heard was hotel maintenance workers shoveling up the trash.

Trixie just fell into the nearest chair. "This is too much. These lunatics either followed us last night or they know our names and just called around until they found us. Either way it's just too scary to think about."

"Amen to that," Honey replied with an emphatic nod of her head. "But it does give us a strong indication that we're on to something. You're right though, it is not a comforting feeling to know that there may be armed crazies watching our every move. Oh! Speaking of armed, how's yours this morning?"

"It feels just fine. I wished I hadn't gone along with this cast. I don't think it was necessary and it's going to be a pain to try to deal with," Trixie said.

"Hold it!" Honey admonished. "Brian's the doctor in the family, not you. I don't think April would have wanted the cast if she didn't think it was necessary. I think she did the right thing. Not only does she have good taste in men, but she's highly intuitive to know that you probably wouldn't take it easy with your arm."

"End of speech?" Trixie grinned. "If so, I'm going to attempt a bath and a hair-washing. Listen out 'cause you may hear a "Holp! Holp!" in the next few minutes!"

"Right-o! Ensign Wheeler, standing by and waiting for your call, Captain! By the way, let's just wear jeans today since we're not going downtown that I know of."

"A-okay with me, Ensign Wheeler!"

By 9:30 both girls were dressed comfortably and sipping coffee.

Honey gave her friend an admiring look. "Trixie, that pink polo shirt looks fabulous on you. You should wear pink more often. It really gives your face a nice soft blush."

Thankfully the phone rang about that time, since Trixie was uncomfortable with dealing with compliments. Even though she had grown into quite a beautiful young woman, the face she saw in the mirror was still that of a thirteen-year-old tomboy.

Honey had answered the phone but brought the cordless handset over to Trixie. "Here, it's X. He wants to talk to you."

"'Morning, X. What can I do for you?" Trixie chirped into the handset.

"Trixie, my lady. I think that's my question to you. I just talked with Tom and he told her about what happened right after I left. Man, I can't believe I missed out on all the excitement!" X laughed heartily. "I'm afraid our town didn't roll the welcome mat all the way out for you, Trixie."

"Not a problem," Trixie assured him. "In fact, from the man's accent, it looks like I may have brought him here with me."

X changed the subject. "I've got two pieces of information for you. First, Tom picked up your package and should be there, oh, in about ten minutes more or less. Second, I got a make on your fingerprints."

"You did?! Wonderful! Who is it?"

"His name is Leonardo Salvatore Maddeloni."

"Does he have a rap sheet?" asked Trixie.

"And how!! Let's just say that you should thank your lucky stars, and anything and anyone else you can think of, that we're able to have this conversation. Some of his nicknames include Mad Dog, King Leo, Sal the Slasher. Like a lot of these guys, he started off with a series of small stuff, bicycle theft, tire slashing, running numbers, and such. In and out of juvie hall. By the time he was twenty-seven he'd moved up to grand theft auto, drug possession, and felony B&E and did some jail time.

"Kinda' funny though. He dropped out of sight until he was thirty-five. Then he emerged as the right-hand man to Don Caparelli, a major mob boss in Queens. Then two years later Mr. Caparelli met an unfortunate end. It seems he inadvertently fell into a commercial meat grinder at a slaughter house. Mad Dog succeeded Caparelli as the boss. He then was associated with a number of major crimes, actually being indicted on one but it never came to trial. Let's see, attempted bribery of a federal judge, mail fraud, blackmail, felony assault on the CEO of Chase Manhattan Bank, attempted murder on a New York police detective, and a money laundering scheme that operated throughout the New England area. A real sweetheart."

Trixie almost became physically ill as she listened to the description of the dangerous man who had held her life in his twisted hand. "Can you e-mail me a copy of that information?"

X agreed to send her the information, got her e-mail address, and hung up.

Honey came back into the room and gasped when she saw Trixie. "My heavens! You're as white as a sheet, Trixie. What did X say to you?"

When Trixie relayed the information, Honey fell back on the sofa, putting the back of her hand to her forehead. "I think I'm going to be sick."

"Come on, Ensign Wheeler! Shore up!" Trixie said, trying to be lighthearted to alleviate the apprehension both were feeling. "Tom will be here soon and it'll be time for us to get to work and earn our fee."

Honey giggled nervously. "Aye, aye, sir!"

Trixie shifted in her chair and ran her hand through her hair. "I really feel that we've got all but one piece of this jigsaw puzzle. When Tom gets here, we'll run through everything we've got and see if can't identify that last piece."

A knock at the door made Trixie jump up and hastily walk to the door to answer it. She looked through the peep hole and a wide grin broke across her face. Thank goodness Honey can't see this goofy grin, Trixie thought.

Trixie swung open the door, admitting the two good-looking men who stood there.

Honey looked up from her notepad. "Good mo…." Honey's mouth was absolutely frozen in an "O". She tried to say something but her mind wouldn't form a coherent thought at that moment. Ryan, he's safe! Who found him? Why aren't Trixie and Tom saying anything? Why is Ryan smiling at me like that. That smile, those eyes, they look just like… "JIM!" Honey's brain finally registered the identity of the now brown-headed man in the navy blue suit.

"Well, I was beginning to think my little sister wasn't going to give me a hug!" Jim and exclaimed and dropped his suitcase.

Honey jumped up and in one leap crossed the room and threw her arms around her brother. "How--why--what HAVE you done with your hair?"

Trixie, leaning back against the door frame, and Tom, standing beside her, were thoroughly enjoying the scene. "Looks like you were right-on about Jim with dark hair," Tom remarked. "It even momentarily fooled Honey."

Jim twirled Honey around and set her down. "I think this is Trixie's story."

Everyone came into the living area and sat down. Trixie explained that when she saw the striking resemblance between Jim and Ryan that having Jim here could work to their advantage when they found where Ryan was being held. "See, I hope that his captors will have the same reaction you had, Honey. When they see Jim they'll be so stunned, it will give us the advantage we need to overtake them." She went on about how she had called Jim while Honey had been in the shower and told Jim the plan.

"I confess," Jim said, "I just wasn't sure about the hair thing. Mother nearly died and Dad was just dumbfounded. Regan laughed so hard that he fell backwards into Jupe's stall and nearly got hoof-in-mouth disease! But after I explained why, they all naturally admonished me, well all of us, to be careful. Dad is taking a few days off, believe it or not, so he let me use the company jet and pilot."

Honey looked at Trixie admiringly. "You really kept this one under your hat."

Trixie just looked smug as she answered, "Now that everyone's here, I think we need to get to work. Let's bring Jim up to speed on everything."

"Before you do that, would you mind telling me exactly where the garbage dump is and how someone got so mixed up on directions and wound up here?" Jim asked.

"I think that will be answered when we tell you what's happened," Trixie replied.

They fixed soft drinks and began munching on the still-hot Krispy Kreme doughnuts that Tom had brought. Trixie began the narration, with Tom and Honey adding a few details along the way. Jim's eyes blazed as he heard about Trixie's encounter with Mad Dog Maddeloni. He rose from his chair and paced the floor in an agitated manner when she replayed her conversation with X. So many things he wanted to say to his sister and this young woman who occupied a very special place in his heart. Like, why can't you take up knitting or work at the library or be a lion tamer--anything safer than this. But he knew it would be futile. It would be like telling him to become a lawyer rather than a teacher.

"I guess that's about it," Trixie said as she finished.

"Not quite," Tom said soberly, holding up the manila envelope that he had in his hand. "The Governor has received another communiqué from the kidnappers last night." He pulled out a piece of paper the same color and texture as the original note. Tom read aloud:

My dear Governor Patman:

As you can tell from the events of the past weeks, we are very determined to get what we want and will take whatever measures we deem necessary to achieve those ends.

You are probably wondering what it is we want and it is now time to reveal our desires. First, we want use of 1,000 acres of land in your state to be used as a landfill. This land must be in an unpopulated area but readily accessible by road. The ownership of the land must be in the name of an untraceable corporation. Our activities must be unrestricted and unmonitored by any law enforcement or regulatory agency of your state. Second, we need several vehicles and a safe house with the same stipulations--all in the name of untraceable person or corporation.

As of the writing of this letter, our "insurance policy" is still alive though in a weakened condition after his surgery. He has been receiving medical attention but you never know when the good doctor will stop making house calls. To show you that he is still alive, a recent snapshot of Mr. Jordan is enclosed. We hope that it will convince you to accept our proposal.

Just in case you should deny our most reasonable request or fail to follow the rules after the transaction is complete, we will purchase two additional insurance policies. By the way, Jennifer and Stephanie are excellent swimmers. Both should take ribbons at the swim meet at the Homewood YMCA in Birmingham this weekend. We've never seen two little girls who looked so cute in their swimsuits eating chocolate ice cream cones at Baskin-Robbins after practice yesterday. Little Stephanie just looked adorable in her Cubs cap and Jennifer is beginning to develop quite a nice figure. Yes, we would all have such a grand time together. They would be very photogenic.

Any activity out of ordinary will be deemed as a nonacceptance of our request on your part. So we wouldn't suggest any sudden trips or unusual houseguests for members of your family.

Further instructions on finalizing our proposal will be sent to you in the next few days. We thought you'd like some time to find just the right property for us and to dwell on the consequences of failing to comply.

The note was unsigned.

"As you can imagine, the Governor is going wild over the thoughts of his two granddaughters being harmed in any way," Tom said.

Trixie could see that Honey was having a difficult time maintaining her composure but knew they had to press on. "The note mentions a picture. I assume that it's in the envelope."

Tom nodded and pulled out the picture. Trixie and Honey mentally braced themselves for the contents, having already witnessed one heinous photo. Tom took another look at it, shuddered, and handed it over to Trixie.

She walked over to the sofa, sitting between Honey and Jim. She turned the picture over and the three of them looked in dismay at it. There was Ryan, standing on gallows with a noose around his neck. The terror is his eyes clearly came through the picture. Trixie just lost it as she threw down the picture and stormed across the room.

"Damn! These monsters have to be stopped now and we're the only ones to do it. I guess the cutting sound on the tape was these fiends building the gallows. Okay, let's review what we know or are pretty sure of. First, the location. We're going on the assumption that it's in a nearby rural area with some type of landing strip and horses nearby. Anything else?"

"In thinking back to the taped call, whoever was there had to go get Ryan and bring him to the phone. Then we heard the phone being slammed down and the dial tone following. To me that says that the phone is a wired telephone, as opposed to a cordless or cellular phone," Honey offered. "Since it wasn't a cellular phone, there will have to be phone lines to whatever structure he is in."

"Excellent observation, Honey," Tom said.

"Yes it is, but we still need to narrow down the area," Trixie reminded them.

"While you were briefing me on what all had happened, you mentioned that you were disappointed that the name Jewel Hill had not turned into a major lead. I'm just wondering, maybe Jewel Hill is a what not a who. Like Catamount Hill at home or Bunker Hill," Jim suggested.

"We hadn't thought of that angle," Trixie admitted. "I got off on one track and never thought of it that way. Tom, is there a Jewel Hill in the area?"

Tom shook his head. "Not that I know of, not officially anyway. But it could be a nickname for an area that I'm not aware of. I know that Ryan has never mentioned any area like that or it would have registered with me as soon as I heard it."

"Okay, Honey and Tom that's your assignment. See if you can locate anything in the area by that name," Trixie directed. "Now, the garbage men. I'd like to get more information on who all might be involved so that we might be better prepared. I'm curious as to why they would go to such lengths to get this property. Jim and I will do some more web surfing and see what we might find."

"I saw some brochures in the hotel lobby on sightseeing spots in the area as well as some real estate brochures. Tom and I will go get those," Honey said. She then snapped her fingers. "Oh! The package of information Mrs. Mills gave us may have some information."

The two teams got busy with their respective assignments. Trixie and Jim logged onto the Internet and retrieved the e-mail from X. They then connected to the archives of the New York Times. Tom and Honey busied themselves with studying the brochures and Tom also made a couple of calls to his mom and some friends asking if they knew of any area called Jewel Hill.

Around 1:30 both groups were ready for a break. They all piled into Tom's personal vehicle, a black with bronze trim four-door Dodge Ram truck, and drove to Chappy's, a nearby deli, to get up some sandwiches, chips and drinks. They made a quick pit stop into a drug store next to the deli. Tom and Honey picked up another local interest magazine and a brochure of the Parade of Homes, an annual event sponsored by the Tri-County Real Estate Association where builders and decorators show off their talents to those visiting the various subdivisions featured in the show.

Back at the hotel, Trixie sunk her teeth into the hot pastrami and Swiss on rye with slaw and let out a contented "hmmmmmm."

Honey giggled at the sight. "Don't look now, Miss Belden, but your cast has taken a hit from the mustard and mayo dripping out of your mouth."

Trixie chuckled as she wiped the excess condiments off her cast. "Actually, I did that on purpose. I thought yellow spots would make it look quite fetching."

Both girls went into gales of laughter while the guys just shook their heads. "Dames," Jim said. "You can't live with 'em..."

"But you can't live without 'em," both finished in unison.

After everyone had finished lunch, Trixie and Jim reported that they had uncovered enough information through the Internet to learn that Mad Dog like to be the one and only brain of his operation. He feared that he might meet the same fate as his predecessor if he should hire anyone with any intelligence, so he hired only those with brawn, not brain, whose vocabulary was mostly limited to "yes, sir."

"So whoever is guarding Ryan is most likely not going to be able to take charge without direction from the boss. Hopefully, when we find him, we won't have to encounter Maddeloni," Tom said.

"If we could just get some idea of where to look. The phone company was of no help in tracing the call that was made to the Governor?" Jim asked Tom.

"No, the call came so quickly and out of the blue, under the circumstances we thought he did extremely well in pressing the Record button. He didn't even think about a trace until it was too late," Tom replied.

"So no luck so far on finding an area called Jewel Hill?"

"Regretfully, not yet. Tom is going to look through the magazine and I'm going to look through this Parade of Homes brochure," Honey reported.

While Jim and Trixie cleaned up the lunch mess, Tom and Honey began reading.

"I know this is off the subject, but listen to the description of the featured subdivision of this year's Parade," Honey said. "It sounds so nice, like one that we might live in some day, Trixie. It's out in the country but has all the conveniences of city living--water and garbage service, cable television. It's called Emerald Mountain. It has its own equestrian center, a golf course, clubhouse, and tennis courts. Just look…"

Before Honey could finish the sentence, Trixie dropped the cup she was carrying, spilling ice and watered-down Coke all over the floor. "What did you say?" she practically shouted at Honey.

Tom and Jim looked at Trixie as though she had just announced that she was actually a reincarnation of Queen Victoria.

Honey was taken aback and rather meekly replied, "Golf course, clubhouse…"

"No! No! The name of the place."

"Uh, Emerald Mountain," Honey said, still not sure what had caused Trixie's outburst.

"That's it!! Don't you see? Jewel Hill--Emerald Mountain! Ryan knew that if he said the real name, he'd be killed for sure. He was trying to use a code word that maybe those goons wouldn't catch on to. This is it! It's gotta' be! Rural area, horses, the whole nine yards!" Trixie was bouncing up and down, arms flapping in preparation for take off, her blue eyes shining with excitement. "What do you think, Tom? Do you know this area?"

"You could be right, Trixie. David Morgan had a meet-the-candidate barbeque at his home in that area when the Governor was running for election. It is in a rural area, they do have an equestrian center where you can board you r horses. They also have horse shows there a couple of times of year."

"What about the airstrip part," Jim said, trying to think through everything in his logical manner. "Does the description say anything about an airstrip for use by the residents?"

Honey started to scan the brochure again but Tom wagged his hand to stop her. "Yes! There is a airstrip but it's not for the residents. It belongs to the developer, Allen James, who lives on a 1,000-acre spread nearby. I recall now listening to Mr. Morgan ranting about how Mr. James had ruined the ecology of the area when he built the Emerald Mountain subdivision. Mr. Morgan lives on 30 acres bordering the subdivision and has lived out there for quite a while. I remember he said that when they first moved out there his closest neighbor was probably five miles past his property on down the dirt road.

"He gave me an earful on how Mr. Allen had drained a wetlands area but somehow never got into trouble for violating federal law. But he really got hopping mad when he told me how Mr. James had bulldozed an ancient Indian cemetery to put in the landing strip for his airplane."

"Oh, my gosh, oh my gosh," Honey chanted. "Trixie, you're right. You have to be right. Let's go!"

Tom looked at Jim with a questioning look in his eyes. Jim just shook his head. "I know, I'm still amazed how these seemingly ditzy women do it, but trust me, when Trixie's gut instinct speaks, you'd better listen. Let me change clothes. I don't think I want to go exploring in this suit."

 

Chapter 21

A twenty-minute ride, first north on U.S. Highway 231, then east on Rifle Range Road, brought the foursome to a sign that indicated they should turn left on Peace Church Road to get to "Emerald Mountain - An Award-Winning Planned Community".

Honey looked at the brochure on the area. "According to the information included in the brochure, back in the early '60's there was a Baptist church on this road called Peace Church. It was bombed during the Civil Rights movement and that the foundation of the church still remains on a resident's property. Interesting."

They came to an intersection where the main road bore off to the right, a private drive to the left, and a smaller paved road went straight ahead. Tom pulled the car off onto the right shoulder in front of a beautiful white-sided farm-style home nestled under a stand of large oak trees, surrounded by white picket fences. Two horses nibbled tender young grass in the green pasture just across the fence from them.

Honey rolled down her window and one of the horses whinnied a welcome to her. "Is this part of the equestrian center, Tom?"

"No, I'm trying to sort out where everything is," Tom said. "The main part of the residential area and clubhouse are to the right. If I remember correctly, Mr. Morgan's home is about a half mile up this road on the right. From the way Mr. Morgan was gesturing, I believe the airstrip must be on the other side of the road from him. It must be nearby since he was concerned about low-flying airplanes flying across his rooftop. I think the equestrian center is beyond Mr. Morgan's house on the left. Honey, is there a map of the area in the Parade book?"

Honey leafed through the brochure until she found a map. "Yes, you're correct. It's on the left."

"The only thing that concerns me is that I could have sworn the road we took straight ahead was dirt but that's a paved one. I hope I don't have my areas mixed up."

About that time a blue Australian cattle dog came bounding out of the woods on their left, also barking its welcome. Tom cracked his door slightly and reached down to pet their greeter who had put her paws up on the running board. "Hello, girl. Let's see. This tag says her name is Bandit. Well, Bandit, can you tell us where we need to go?"

"Bandit!" a voice scolded. A tall, brown-haired woman with two leashed dachshunds emerged from the same woods as Bandit had come. "She's not bothering you, is she? She's just overly friendly."

"Oh, no," Tom assured her. "In fact, I had just asked her for directions to the equestrian center but she's not talking!"

"Bandit, how rude," the woman laughed. "Actually, it's straight up the hill here," indicating the paved road straight ahead.

"Thanks," Tom replied. "I thought it was, but I remembered the road as being a dirt road."

"It used to be but Mr. James had it paved about three months ago." The woman looked curiously at Trixie and Honey. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to be rude myself, but you look so familiar."

"I don't believe we've ever met," answered Honey politely. "We're from New York and have just been here a few days."

"Oh, okay. Well, y'all have a great day," said the woman. They watched as she opened her mailbox and break into a big grin as she pulled a priority mail container from her mail box, just about the right size for a book. She smiled and waved and then disappeared back into the woods, with Bandit and the dachshunds trotting beside her.

"Why don't we see if they rent horses and do our exploring on horseback. That way the Black Beast here won't attract attention," Tom suggested. "That is, if you ride horses."

Jim smiled. "Oh, yes, we practically lived on horses when we were kids, especially during the summer."

They drove up the hill and Tom slowed down at Mr. Morgan's place, where wrought iron fences were covered in honeysuckle and wisteria. Honey breathed in deeply, obvious pleasure registering on her face from the smell of the floral array.

They began looking for any signs of the airstrip. They were just about to decide it was not in this area, when Trixie yelled, "Stop! I think that's it! Look back that way. It looks just like a very wide opening between the trees, but look on the ground. Aren't those landing lights?"

"Good spot, Trixie!" Tom exclaimed. "And look, there's power lines going out that way too."

All four began clapping each other on the shoulders, feeling like they were in the vicinity of where Ryan was being held and got a hearty laugh as Jim had to dodge the cast on Trixie's arm.

They pulled up the equestrian center and saw a man with a noticeable limp leading a horse out to a round pen.

"Hi!" Tom called out to the man, and the man waved and came over to them. "I'm Tom Farley and my friends and I were wondering if you rented horses."

"Hey, my name's Bill Braxton. No, I'm sorry, we don't rent horses. These are all privately owned horses. Say, don't I know you, Tom?"

Tom rarely, if ever, mentioned his line of work but felt he should so in this situation, thinking it might be to their advantage in their quest for Ryan. "I'm Governor Patman's Chief of Security. I think we met at Mr. Morgan's rally last fall during the campaign."

"Oh right! I remember. During the campaign, you're the fellow that dragged Patman to the ground and covered him when that crazy woman barged out of a crowd in that shopping mall down in Mobile waving a handgun," Mr. Braxton said with a great deal of admiration in his voice. "Well, I'll tell you what, if Cleve Patman trusts you that much, well so do I. Actually you might do me a big favor as well. Are you all experienced riders?"

Jim explained about their stable at home and how it had been part of their responsibility growing up to exercise the horses, especially when they were out of school, and that they continued to ride several days a week. Tom admitted it had been a while since he had ridden but said as a teenager he had worked summers at a riding school south of town.

"With my wife and daughter gone for a week, I've got three horses here that need exercising. I severely sprained my left ankle yesterday and it's difficult for me to put the weight on it to get into the saddle. I'll let you take my three and I know my buddy John wouldn't mind if you took Honey."

"What do you mean?" Honey exclaimed in bewilderment.

Mr. Braxton looked at her, fearing he'd just made a mistake in offering the horses. "That golden-brown quarterhorse there. That's Honey. She belongs to my young buddy John Chitwood."

The four visitors burst out laughing and were joined by Mr. Braxton when they explained. Mr. Braxton then proclaimed that Honey must ride Honey-Horse. They led the two horses back to the barn and Mr. Braxton pointed out his other two horses.

He watched as they first put blankets on the horses, then saddles. He nodded his approval as they tightened the girths and expertly put the bits into the horses' mouths and slipped on the bridles and reins. "It'll be dark in maybe two hours. There's a full moon tonight so it'll be a great ride on the open trails. But, here, take these flashlights with you, just in case."

Jim and Tom had a lengthy discussion on the lay of the land. He warned them about a sharp drop off about just about a hundred feet off to the right of the trail that led to the southwest. "It's about three miles down the trail just beyond a run-down house where that crazy old coot Marvin Johnson lives."

The four visitors could hardly retain their excitement at the word "house" down a horse trail in the direction of the airstrip.

"Thanks, Mr. Braxton, we'll take very good care of the horses," Honey promised. "By the way, where's the leather cleaner and the grooming supplies so that we can clean the tact and groom the horses when we get back?"

Mr. Braxton was impressed with the offer and knew he had nothing to worry about. He showed them where everything was and asked them to lock up before they left. "If you have any problems, just call me." He tipped his hat and left.

Without exchanging a word, the riders all turned their steeds to the trail that led to the southwest. At the head of the trail, they stopped to discuss strategy.

"Obviously this Mr. Johnson' s house is what we're looking for," said Trixie. "Since Mr. Braxton said it's about three miles down the road, I suggest that we ride for about two and a half miles, secure the horses, and go the remaining distance on foot. When we near the house one of us can slip up closer, case the premises, and come back to make the report. We can then decide what to do."

"Right," said Jim. "I'll be the one to go on to the house."

"No," Trixie said with an emphatic shake of her head. "Actually, I think Honey should do it."

"You do?" Jim and Honey said at the same time but for different reasons. Jim because he was being his protective self and Honey because it was normally Trixie that took on the more dangerous assignments.

"Yes, I do. For one, we don't know what kind of setting the house is in--is it in a clearing, or surrounded by trees, or have a fence, or just what the situation will be. I think that it would be best for someone who can move quickly and easily and someone small enough to hide behind a bush or slither through a small opening in a fence. Anything that requires slender and graceful kinda' leaves the other three of us out. Plus Honey has an excellent memory and an eye for detail. She'll be able to draw out a good layout."

"Sure, I can do that." Honey was trying to keep her professional face showing but inside she was glowing because of the confidence that Trixie had placed in her.

Tom and Jim reluctantly agreed, knowing that Trixie's logic was correct. They started down the trail with Jim in the lead on a Palomino named Stormy; Honey next on Honey, Trixie followed on Sugar, the champion barrel racing horse owned by Mr. Braxton's daughter, and Tom in the back on Mr. Braxton's black cutting horse named Amigo.

With the pending rescue weighing heavily on their minds, it was difficult for the four riders to truly enjoy their surroundings. But each in his or her own way appreciated the thick woods of pines, oak, dogwood and sugar maple. The sounds of birds twittering, squirrels chattering and a hawk screeching overhead gave the ride a magical touch to the otherwise quiet forest ambience. Suddenly Jim reined in Stormy to a quick stop, with the others quickly following suit. Jim leaned to his left and pointed toward a bend in the trail. Two doe along with two yearlings were crossing the path in front of them. Honey and Trixie were especially thrilled when the two yearling deer looked at them with such trust in their warm brown eyes.

The riders continued down the path, immersed in their own thoughts, quietly observing the area, too afraid to make any sound other than the soft clop of the horses' hooves on the leaf-carpeted trail and the occasional creak of the leather.

When Jim signaled that it was time to pull over, Trixie felt like she had been riding in a trance. In one aspect she felt as though they had just started and in another way it felt as though they had been riding for several hours. The slant of the sunlight through the trees let her know that it was getting late in the afternoon, probably around 5:30, she guessed.

The riders dismounted and Jim gave Stormy's reins to Honey. He hand signaled that the three of them should wait there while he scouted for a space in the woods for them to lead the horses.

He returned shortly and took the reins from Honey and indicated that they should follow. He walked down the path another thiry feet where a small path turned off the left. About twenty feet down the path was a small clearing on the right. Someone had camped there quite some time back, as evidenced by a circle of rocks that once made a fire ring and several two-foot high stumps of wood that had been sawed and sat around the fire ring. A couple of broken bottles and a faded canvas-covered canteen were all that remained of the campers.

They eased the horses to the campsite and secured the reins around some small-trunked but sturdy oak trees. Tom's eyes never stopped darting, taking in every detail and listening and watching for any hint of danger. Trixie was mentally preparing herself for what she hoped would be a successful rescue attempt. Honey was praying that she would be able to carry out her mission in a way that would support Trixie's trust and faith in her and provide enough information to make the rescue go as quickly and easily as possible. Jim, the ever-logical one, was hoping that Trixie had not put too much faith in a string of coincidences or read too much into whatever clues she though she had.

Jim spoke in a whisper. "I know that Honey will do the scouting run alone but I'm going to walk with her until we spot the house. Once we've surveyed the outside to make sure that she can safety enter the yard, she'll go on her own."

Trixie and Tom nodded their agreement. Trixie then added, "If there's trouble, signal. We'll make a call for help on Tom's cell phone and then we'll come to where you are."

"Okay," Jim agreed. "Just be careful when you approach. It would be bad enough if Honey and I are taken hostage. There's no need to let them have all four of us."

Trixie gave Jim and Honey a tight squeeze and watched her partner in work and her partner in life, she hoped, slip through the woods.

After they had left, Tom asked in a low voice, "How will he signal? How will you know what to listen for?" Trixie explained about the Bob-White whistle.

"Ah, I've got a lot to learn about being an honorary Bob-White," Tom said lightly, momentarily easing the stress for both of them.

There was nothing for Tom and Trixie to do but wait. It was sheer misery for Trixie. She began to question her decision to let Honey go on the scouting mission. She knew in her heart it was the right decision but her brain was arguing loudly. Anyway, she told herself, this break will do me good. Her arm was aching but she didn't dare say a word to anyone.

In the meantime, Jim and Honey slipped up the trail. When Jim estimated that they were just about in the vicinity of the house, he pressed his hand in a downward motion to indicate to Honey that they should walk slower and more carefully. After about 30 more steps, they saw the house on their left. It was gray-weathered wood with a tin-roof porch. The roll-type roofing on the house looked like it would barely keep the rain from running in. The wood on the front door had bucked up in the middle and the screen door was barely hanging on, with the mesh all but rusted off. There were two windows to the right of the front door, both were cracked open but yellowed, sagging Venetian blinds prevented them from seeing in.

Honey could picture this house back in the Depression era, with barefoot kids and chickens all running around the front yard, while Daddy was off working for a local farmer, and Mama tending the garden and baking bread, trying to stretch what few dollars her husband could bring home each month.

The yard was now almost barren of anything but some weeds and a few scrub bushes in the front. It was dotted profusely with liquor and wine bottles with a healthy dose of beer cans thrown in for good measure.

On the left side of the house they saw a road of sorts, more like where vehicles had flattened the grass, coming from the direction of the airstrip. The beat up blue 1970 Chevy truck looked like it belonged here. The new dark green four-wheel drive Ford Explorer did not.

Jim and Honey eased back into the woods and continued until they were on the right side of the house. They came back to the edge of the woods. From that vantage point they could see a window with the glass broken out and partially covered by a red-faded-to-pink cloth curtain, a row of sad-looking azalea bushes, two pine trees, and a back porch similar to the front. Out in the back they saw two sawhorses and a pile of wood scrapes nearby.

Just then they heard the back door swing open and bang into house and saw two men come out to the back porch.

Honey immediately recognized one of the men and tapped Jim's leg. She gestured to the ground and wrote in the dirt "Mad Dog." Jim's blazing eyes was all the signal Honey needed to know that he understood.

The other man was scrawny but they knew that it didn't take a big man to pull the trigger of a gun. He had the same olive complexion as Maddeloni, but his hair was just a few tufts around the sides. His t-shirt was sweat-stained and torn. His filthy khaki pants were splattered with a dark substance that looked like dried blood to both Honey and Jim.

"Look, Eddie," Maddeloni was saying, "Just keep it in the road here just another couple of days. I'm going to send instructions to that hick governor tomorrow and set up the day after that for his commitment. If he doesn't play, you'll have the pleasure of doing in pretty boy any way you want."

Honey grabbed Jim by the arm, her fingernails digging in.

Eddie grinned. "Okay boss. I can hang in for that long. But it's getting tough out here, ya' know. Us Italian guys, we got special needs, ya' know?"

"I know, Eddie," Mad Dog replied, draping his arm around Eddie's shoulder. "He's got two pretty young granddaughters that you'd really like. We'll just let that be your reward."

With that Honey's nails almost drew blood on Jim's arm. He had to bite his lip to keep from crying out.

"Listen, I've got to run back into town for a little while. That Singleton guy is starting to get on my nerves. He's beginning to think he runs this little bit. I think it's time for him and me to have a little heart to heart chat. Kenny's staying here with you since he's not feeling too swift right about now. An all-nighter with too many shots of bad tequila last night did him in. Don't you let anything like that happen to you. You got that?"

Eddie was eager to please. "Oh, yes, sir. I stay away from that stuff while I'm workin'. By the way, what happened to that old man?"

Mad Dog patted Eddie on the back. "Well, let's just say that the old man started wandering around drunk and accidentally fall off that cliff over there."

Eddie grinned. "Gotcha' boss. See you later."

Jim and Honey watched as Maddeloni got into the Explorer and drove off toward the airstrip. They strained to catch any part of the license plate but were unable to at that distance in the failing light.

The sun was beginning to dip below the tree line. Eddie went back into the house and turned on an inside light. They could hear the faint strains of a television and Eddie's guffaws at the show that was on.

With Maddeloni gone, Eddie now engrossed in the television, and Kenny out with a hangover, it was time for Honey to go into action. The normally gazelle-like Honey felt like she was more elephantine as she ran to the tree closest to her. She peered around the edge and, seeing the coast was clear, dipped low and loped to the azalea bushes along side the house.

She waited for a moment, taking deep breaths to calm herself and to slow her heart that was now beating faster than a hummingbird's. She carefully raised up far enough to peak inside the window. Her brain began mentally drawing a picture of what she saw. Rectangular shaped room. The front door opened at the far end, the major portion of the room to the right after entering the door. The television sat on the front wall about 10 feet down from the door. The windows were on either side of the television with the blinds still closed.

Straight across the room from the front door was an interior door that probably led to the kitchen. On the wall opposite the t.v., Eddie lounged on a green and brown plaid loveseat that looked like a reject from Goodwill. In one hand he held what appeared to be a cigarette but the acrid smell drifting toward the window told Honey it was something more. In the other hand was a can of beer. Well, so much for not drinking on the job, Honey thought. A heavy ceramic lamp sat next to him on what little part of the floor that wasn't littered with newspapers and the remains of take-out dinners.

However, what concerned Honey was the pistol lying on the cardboard box-turned-coffee table in front of him. It looked like a military issue with a clip in it and another full clip beside it.

Honey's eyes focused on the part of the room past where Eddie was contentedly getting blitzed while watching re-runs of M*A*S*H. A long hallway about 10 feet from the front door and to the left. She couldn't see what was on either side of the hall but she could see that it dead-ended at the door of a bedroom. She could see the figure of a man draped across the bed with his head hanging off the edge. The long shaggy mop of matted blond hair told her that it was Kenny, not Ryan.

Honey then angled her body so that her right shoulder was against the window frame. She looked down the inside of the wall.

Inwardly Honey squealed with sheer joy! It was Ryan! He was lying on a cot so close to the window that Honey could have leaned in and touched him with her hand. His breathing was shallow and labored and Honey could see his left hand was wrapped in bandages, although the outside was stained with dark red spots. On top of a small two-drawer cabinet at the foot of the cot were medicine bottles, bandages, alcohol, a pair of scissors, and other assorted items Honey couldn't distinguish.

Ryan! Honey concentrated her thoughts, hoping there was something to this ESP thing. Ryan, I'm Honey Wheeler and we're going to get you out of this mess. Just hang in there, Ryan. A lot of good people are pulling for you and I know that your Dad is giving me the strength and courage to do this.

As if in response, Ryan moaned and moved restlessly.

Honey turned around to return to Jim and was amazed to see that it had grown quite dark. However, as Mr. Braxton had predicted, the full moon made it quite possible to see well. She darted across the yard to Jim's hiding place and put her mouth directly on his ear. "He's there. Let's go."

As soon as they sneaked past the house, they emerged out of the woods onto the path. They broke into a run and just about had gone past their turnoff when a soft Bob-White! made them stop and turn toward their anxiously awaiting friends.

Trixie could hardly contain herself. "Did you see him? Is he okay? What's the plan?"

"Okay, first things first," Jim said, leading the conversation. "Ryan is there."

Trixie let out a soft WAHOO! She turned to high-five Honey but saw that she was holding one of the flashlights close to the ground and was busily drawing sketches of the house in the dirt.

"But almost as important, so was your buddy Maddeloni. Honey and I saw and heard enough to connect him to Ryan's kidnapping, the threats against Governor Patman, and possible murder," Jim reported, telling what had been overheard about the old man. "Tom, I think you should go ahead call whomever you need to and alert them to pickup Maddeloni on suspicion of kidnap and extortion. He's driving a new dark green Ford Explorer. We couldn't get a license number but there did seem to be some kind of bumper sticker, half looked blue and half looked yellow. It was hard to tell. Maddeloni did say he was on his way back to town to confront Singleton."

"Okay, I'll call X. He'll have it set up to pick him up as soon as he hits the Montgomery city limits," Tom responded, pulling out his cell phone as he spoke.

"Hold on one second, Tom. I know I'm taking over here, Trixie, but things are just spilling out. You mind?" Jim asked the acknowledged leader of the Belden-Wheeler Detective Agency.

"No, please, go on," Trixie urged.

"Honey, what's the status of the two guys in the house?" Jim asked.

Honey temporarily stopped her drawing. "The lead guy, Eddie, is drinking beer and is smoking what I believe to be marijuana. The second guy, Kenny, is nursing a severe hangover. He looked like he will be out of it for quite a while in the back bedroom. There is a gun on a cardboard box in front of Eddie."

Jim nodded and continued, "Tom, I think with that information, that the girls and I will be able to handle that situation, even with the addition of the gun to the mix. I think you'd better ride back toward the barn and make your call to X. Then you might want to call for an ambulance for Ryan and the local law enforcement people. Please tell them to not turn on their sirens or lights. We don't want anything to jeopardize this rescue operation."

Sometimes he gets on my nerves the way he takes over, but this time I'm awfully glad he's here, thought Trixie. I guess my mind and body are still a little numb from last night's adventure. I hadn't even thought about calling anyone.

"Jim, I can make those calls from here and help you out down at the house. I absolutely don't like the idea of leaving you here," Tom said gravely.

"I know. I'd rather have you here. But see how we're having to keep our voices down? I think it would be better for you to put some distance between yourself and the house so you can talk where someone can understand you clearly. Plus, you'll be there when the ambulance and law enforcement people arrive."

Tom fully understood Jim's point but it didn't make it any easier to accept. Tom almost choked as he reached out and put his hand on Jim's shoulder and said, "All right, you be careful, though." He then wordlessly hugged Trixie and patted Honey on top of her head. He untied the waiting Amigo from the tree, mounted, and rode back toward the barn.

Jim and Trixie then turned their attention and flashlight beams to the drawing Honey had done in the sand. They discussed a plan of action. They made sure that Sugar and Honey-Horse were still securely tied to the tree and untied Stormy and took him to be part of the rescue team.

The moonlight lit the path so they could easily see. At the edge of the yard, they tied Stormy to a tree and the three BWG's sneaked quietly toward the front door. The listened for just a moment and could hear the television still playing. Trixie peeked through the window at the edge of the blinds. She indicated that Eddie was still on the sofa.

Jim mouthed One, Two, Three. On Three, he kicked in the door and shouted in a booming voice, even scaring Trixie out of her wits, "WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO ME?"

A startled Eddie leaped from the sofa and then froze, his brain not understanding what his eyes were seeing: Ryan Jordan standing in the door yelling at him with two females standing behind him.

It was just the reaction that Trixie had predicted. It was just in that moment of suspended animation that Jim bent down and rushed headlong into Eddie, forcibly planting his head into Eddie's belly.

"You son of a.." Eddie started yelling but his roar was cut off in mid-sentence by an uppercut from Jim's right fist. Eddie went sprawling back on the sofa.

Trixie rushed over and grabbed the gun. She ran out the front door and dropped it over the porch railing. She came back in, glanced quickly at Honey, who was trying to rouse Ryan.

Just then Jim made another flying leap towards Eddie, who by then had regained some of his senses and jackrabbit kicked Jim in the stomach. Jim let out a loud "oof" and flew back into the television set and then fell to the floor. Jim jumped up just as Eddie was getting to his feet.

Eddie and Jim tangled up with each other, each landing and taking blows. Even though Eddie was making a good fight of it, Jim's size and strength were wearing Eddie down. Jim swung around and caught Eddie in the ribs with his elbow.

While Eddie and Jim traded punches, Trixie caught movement out of the corner of her eye from the doorway that led from the kitchen. During the melee no one had seen the lights coming up from behind the house or heard the back door opening. It was Maddeloni!

Maddeloni's face registered shock as he saw what he thought was Eddie in a fistfight with Ryan Jordan. He pounded his right fist into his left palm, getting prepared to join the fray, not sure which he wanted to hit the most--Ryan or Eddie. But his brain was having difficulty processing the other information his eyes were gathering--those two annoying women and the fact that Ryan still seemed to be lying on the cot.

Trixie used his hesitancy to her benefit. She ran across the room, swinging her right arm down as she went. Just as she reached Maddeloni, she swiftly brought her arm up, catching him under the chin with her cast.

"YEEOOWW!" hollered Mad Dog as he grabbed his now broken jaw and fell to the floor.

"IIEEEEEEE!" yelled Trixie, and for the second night in a row she grabbed her arm and cried out in pain.

As she yelled out, Jim turned to see what was happening to Trixie. Eddie took advantage of the Jim's inattention and kicked Jim in the back, knocking him into Trixie. Both crashed to the floor in a one big heap.

"You little troublemakers! I've had it with you," Mad Dog sneered through painfully clenched teeth.

Jim and Trixie detangled themselves and rolled over to see Maddeloni standing there with a knife, its gleaming edge threatening to do them severe bodily harm.

CRASH! Maddeloni's eyes went big, his arms flew out, and then he sunk to the floor. Standing behind him was Honey, with the remains of the lamp in her hand. The other pieces of lamp were in Maddeloni's hair and all over the floor where he now lay senseless.

Trixie and Jim scrambled to their feet. With his boss unconscious and his body drained from the fight, it didn't take much to subdue Eddie. Honey went out back and found the rope they had used around Ryan's neck for the gallows picture. Jim forced Eddie to sit on the floor and propped up Mad Dog behind him. He then wound the rope tightly around the pair of hoodlums to secure them until the law enforcement agents could deal with them.

When Jim stood up, all three hugged each other and began talking simultaneously. "Way to go, Honey!" "Jim, you've got a cut on your eye." Trixie, did you hurt your arm again?"

A weak male voice behind them came floating in over the din, "Hey, is there a place around here to get a decent cup of coffee?"

"Ryan!" they cried in unison and ran over the cot where Ryan was trying to sit up.

"I don't know you guys, but I gotta' say, you're the best lookin' folks I've seen in a long time. Who are you and how did you find this place?"

Honey sat on the cot next to him. "Just take it easy, Ryan," she said soothingly. "We've got plenty of time for introductions and explanations. Right now there's a palomino outside waiting to take you back to safety."

*      *      *

When they got back to the barn, a loud cheer went up from the full array of medical and law enforcement personnel who were waiting, as well as some of the local residents who had heard the page-out for the ambulance and paramedics on their volunteer fire department communication radios. Paramedics immediately put Ryan into the ambulance and rushed him to the hospital. Tom had been able to give a quick briefing to the Elmore County Sheriff and three of his deputies of the events that had taken place.

Tom brought one of the men over to the threesome, who were quickly becoming known as the heroes who had dramatically rescued a man being held hostage by dangerous killers.

"Trixie Belden, Honey Wheeler, and Jim Frayne," Tom said, pointing as he said each one's name, "I'd like for you to meet Sheriff McNear."

"I'm pleased to meet you folks. I know that you've been through a lot tonight already, but I am going to need for you to come down to the office and let us take some statements. I'll try to keep it as short as possible," Sheriff McNear said.

"Sure, we understand," Trixie replied, "but please give us about thirty minutes or so to take care of the horses."

A six-foot-two young man with short strawberry blond hair stepped up to the group. "That's okay. I'm John--the one that owns Honey. My friend Rodney and I will take care of the horses for you. After what you've done, it's the least we can do."

Trixie and Honey smiled their thanks at the handsome young man, while Jim firmly shook his hand and expressed their appreciation for his help.

As promised, the sheriff kept things as short as possible. He allowed each of the four to go to a separate room and give a tape-recorded statement of the events that had led up to this moment. Sheriff McNear asked that they come back the next day to go over the transcribed statements and to answer any further questions that his office or the FBI might have.

Sometime after midnight, Jim, Tom, Trixie and Honey were finally back to the hotel.

Trixie fell across her bed in an exhausted heap. Jim sat beside her and rubbed her back and shoulders. "It seems you've done it again, Miss Belden. Making something out of nothing. I don't know how you do it, but I'm glad I was here with you when you did."

Trixie managed a weak smile at him, "I'm glad you were too. I was really grateful for your help tonight."

Jim drew back in mock surprise. "Why, I must write that down on my calendar--Trixie grateful for help! I'm just kidding you, Trix. I'm proud of you."

Trixie was glad that her face was buried in the covers. When she felt that her cheeks had returned to their normal color, she rolled over and sat up. "Where are you staying tonight? Did you get a room before you came here this morning?"

"No, I didn't. We just came straight here from the airport. But, great guy that he is, Tom is taking me home with him. Says he's got three bedrooms and he can only sleep in one at a time." With that Jim stood up. "Speaking of which, I guess we'd better shove off and let you girls get your beauty sleep."

He leaned over and kissed Trixie on the top of her head. "'Night, Trix. See you tomorrow."

Trixie opened her mouth and said something in return. She just prayed that whatever had come out made sense.

 

Chapter 22

The next morning and early afternoon was a busy one for the foursome. They made a visit to the hospital, their first stop being to Dr. April Dana's office.

"Something told me I should put a protective cast on that arm and aren't you glad I did?" April playfully chided Trixie.

"Well, honestly I thought it was going to be a pain for me, but it turned out to be a pain for Mad Dog!" Trixie laughed.

They had already removed the old cast, taken x-rays and determined that no further damage had been caused during Trixie's brief career as a professional wrestler. April agreed to put a Velcro-wrap cast on, so that Trixie could take it off when she slept and took her baths.

Once again she expressed thanks to April and they left to visit Ryan.

A "No Visitors" sign on the door prevented them from going in, but a nurse informed them that he was weak but resting comfortably. "We've given him a couple of units of blood as well as glucose. He'll probably be ready for visitors late this afternoon."

They made a return trip to the Elmore County Sheriff's office. They each read the transcribed versions of their own statements, making a few additions and clarifications. They then spent the next four hours with the FBI agents who had come on the scene not long after they had left the previous night. They were able to learn some very interesting facts from the agents. Eddie had quickly agreed to become a protected witness rather than face prison again and spilled everything he knew about the scheme.

*      *      *

Late that afternoon the foursome, Governor and Mrs. Patman, and their son Mark gathered at the Summer Cottage at the Governor's Mansion, a small white detached structure across the driveway from the main part of the Mansion. The inside was decorated with informal white wicker furniture with blueberry and yellow striped and solid pillows and various potted plants and hanging baskets. Two white ceiling fans lazily turned above, giving just the right amount of cool circulation to the room. A tea cart was laden with chocolate chip cookies, walnut brownies, buttery shortbread cookies, and pitchers of lemonade and iced tea and all the guests were enjoying the various treats.

"I simply can't believe that all happened under my nose and I didn't even know anything!" Barbara Patman exclaimed.

"It just sounds awful, Dad, that you and Tom had to endure the pressure of that whole mess alone," Mark said sympathetically.

"It really was, Mark. I hope I never have to face that again. I'm just so glad that Ryan is going to be okay," Cleve Patman replied.

"Would somebody tell me why those horrible men did it? Why did they want the land so badly that they would kidnap and probably kill for it?" Barbara asked.

Trixie finished a gulp of lemonade, wiped her mouth, and responded. "The amount of toxic waste generated in this country is growing at a rapid rate and there's a huge problem in trying to dispose of it. Apparently waste management companies can take in a fortune for collecting it from all the places that generate it. However, by the time they go through all the expense of buying land and equipment, going through all the hassle and red-tape of getting approval for a hazardous waste site, getting the land properly prepared, and on and on, the profits are cut significantly.

"What Maddeloni and his bunch of hoods figured out was if they could strong-arm some state into giving them some land and overlook permitting and monitoring requirements they could keep most all of the money for themselves. With the problems Dr. Bronner caused in New York over garbage disposal, they just figured this was a great way to get even."

"How did Stan Winfield fit into all this? I just can't imagine him doing anything to harm the environment," Governor Patman said. "He's been a staunch environmentalist since his high school days."

Trixie went on with the story. "That part goes back to Howard Singleton. Mad Dog and his bunch already had Singleton in their pocket by making tidy little contributions to his various campaign funds to the tune of one point five million dollars.

Mark let out a long, low whistle, "Holy cow."

Trixie continued, "What they got Singleton to do was to finger someone they could use to get into your office. It was an ironic coincidence that the one he chose was your environmental director. You and Mr. Winfield have been working closely together on several environmental issues during this legislative session and was a frequent guest to your office and to the Mansion. He was just a pawn. They had him deliver the notes, make observations about the workings of your office, and report back to them."

"How did they get him to do it?" Mark inquired. "We know these people don't ask politely."

"It was another case of blackmail, this time undeserved," Honey took up the explanation. "They took innocent videos, pictures, and taped phone conversations and with a few computer tricks, voila', they have 'evidence' of Mr. Winfield taking bribes to overlook violations of state and federal law. It was all so convincing that he was afraid not to go along with it. When we saw him at the reception, he had just been told that his mission had been completed. He was so relieved, that's why he was acted so happy that night.

"His other crime was to have involved poor Donna the way he did. He knew that she had a mad crush on him and he used it to his advantage. He wheedled information out of her that she doesn't even realize she gave. He even got her to put the note in your jacket pocket, Governor, saying it was a humorous card to help lighten your day."

Governor Patman shook his head sorrowfully. "She's been an excellent worker but under the circumstances I'm afraid I'll have to reassign her. I know that she'll regret whatever part she had in this situation but that kind of breach of trust can't be overlooked."

"Okay, one more unpleasant question and then let's enjoy ourselves for a little while," Barbara said. "After that hideous thing they did to Ryan's finger, how did he not bleed to death?"

"Once again the long-arm of the Mafia," Tom explained. "There was a local doctor who was in deep to the mob for unpaid gambling debts. He had been paying it off by supplying drugs and was offered the chance to pay it off in full if he agreed to do, shall we call it the surgery and follow-up care. The FBI agents know who he is but naturally wouldn't release his name. They did say the doctor is apparently on the lam but don't believe it will difficult to catch him."

"I'm just glad it's all over. You don't know how grateful I am to the four of you," Governor Patman said sincerely.

"Amen to that!" added Mark. He then turned to Trixie and Honey, "My dad was telling me about all the cases that you've been involved with since you were teenagers. Being a writer I am quite naturally interested in the literary aspect of everything. Has anyone ever talked to you about writing a series of books on your cases?"

"My heavens no!" Honey laughed. "Who'd want to read about us?"

"Hey, you might have something there," Tom agreed. "A series of books about the BWG's."

"Now that's the second time I've heard that term used. What is the BWG's?" Governor Patman asked.

Tom held out his hand, palm up. "Whoa, sir, that's secret territory. Can’t go there."

Governor Patman's eyes twinkled. "And you know all about it, huh?"

Tom blew on his nails then buffed them on his shirt. "Naturally, for I am an honorary BWG."

"Oh, I see. Hmmm, if that's your attitude, Trixie and Honey, are you interested in a job? It looks like I've got an opening as Chief of Security."

Everyone stared at Governor Patman, not quite sure if he had taken wrong what Tom had said in jest. Tom himself just stuttered, "I... I'm...I--"

Barbara Patman mischievously poked her husband in the side, "Oh, Cleve! You've been dying to say something ever since they got here. Go on!"

Governor Patman cleared his throat. "Just teasing with you somewhat, Tom, but I am serious about needing a new Chief of Security. Everyone, I'd like for you to meet the new Director of the Alabama Bureau of Investigation, Mr. Tom Farley!"

Everyone stood dumbstruck, not knowing whether the Governor was serious.

"Well, do you accept the job?" Governor Patman asked with a huge smile on his face.

Tom's eyes sparkled with joy. "You betcha'!" Tom strode over and shook his boss's hand to seal the deal.

The announcement and acceptance was followed by handshakes and slaps on the back from the guys, big hugs from the women, and cheers and hoorays all the way around.

"Perfectly perfect!" Trixie and Honey cried out together.

*     *      *

The sun hung in the beautiful spring afternoon sky like a huge yellow balloon released at a joyous celebration. Waves from the Gulf of Mexico gently lapped the sugar-white sand beaches of Orange Beach while seagulls called from overhead. The gentle breezes brought the sounds of Jimmy Buffett songs from a musician playing acoustic guitar in the cabana up by the crystal clear pool. Children ran playfully into the water's edge while moms and dads kept careful eyes turned toward the youngsters.

Trixie sat up from her bright orange beach towel and applied sunscreen on her arms.

"Boy, this is really nice, Trixie," said a dark-haired man lying in a beach-lounger next to Honey.

"Made even nicer by the fact that my big brother could take some time off from work and join us."

Honey and Jim echoed both sentiments.

"I'm lucky that I work with a great bunch of guys at the hospital," Brian said. "When they found out my sister and two very best friends were here, they all pitched it to cover my patients and hospital shifts for me. It's just a short drive over here from Biloxi."

'Well, I, for one, am very glad that Governor Patman suggested this side trip and that we had the company plane to come down on," Jim said.

"And that nice little bonus Governor Patman added because he felt that we had kept his granddaughters out of harm's way came in handy to pay for our suite here at the Perdido Beach Resort," Honey added.

Trixie handed Jim the bottle of lotion and pointed toward her back. "Pretty please?"

Jim took the bottle and had Trixie turn her back to him.

"Look at that!" Trixie exclaimed.

"What?" Jim said, looking up from his very pleasant task.

"Look at that man with those binoculars. He's looking up at one of the rooms of the hotel. Don't you think that's a little strange?" Trixie questioned.

"NO!" shouted the other three at once.

"Well, okay, but maybe I'll just wander down that way and check it out," Trixie said.

With that, Jim pushed her down and the three of them began furiously piling sand on her legs. "Not if we can help it!" Honey called out laughing.

"Okay! Okay! I give!" Trixie gurgled.

For now anyway.

The End

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