Part One

September, 1995

Honey Wheeler took one long look at the document in her hand, then carefully filed it away. After years of putting the matter out of her mind, she had finally achieved a legal ending to her marriage to Michael Parker. Now that the annulment had been granted, she felt like a chapter of her life was closing.

“You okay?” Dan asked, from somewhere close behind her.

Wordlessly, she nodded. His fingers gently brushed her waist, and she leaned into his embrace. “I’ll be okay. I just feel… kind of restless, like something is wrong.”

He smiled against her hair. “That’s freedom you’re feeling,” he told her. “You’re free from that womanising, lying bastard and you don’t have to worry about him any more. You’re free to live your life the way you choose.”

“Am I really free from him, though?” She nestled against him. “I kind of feel as if he’ll always be in the background somewhere, waiting to hurt me again – not in a physical, looking-over-my-shoulder way, but that he’ll always be in the back of my mind. I don’t think I’ll ever think in the same way that I did before and if that isn’t hurting me, I don’t know what is.”

Dan shook his head. “He can only hurt you if you let him.”

“Sometimes I feel like letting him.”

His voice dropped lower. “Don’t talk that way, Hon. It’s over. You can get on with your life.”

She nodded. “I know. It’s just not the life I thought I’d have.”

Dan dropped a kiss in her hair and gave a laugh devoid of humour. “No. You imagined yourself happily married to Dr. Brian Belden, with three perfect children and an immaculate house behind a white picket fence, an apple pie in the oven and dinner on the table as Dr. Perfect walks in the door. What you’ve got is being shacked up with me in this dingy, old apartment in New York City and most nights, I do the cooking myself while you work. Wrong on all counts.”

“If you’re going to put it that way,” she countered, with a small show of temper, “you’d better add that I thought I’d have a detective agency with Trixie, that the Bob-Whites would go on together forever and that nothing could ever go wrong. I love you, Dan. I don’t want Brian, any more; I’m not sure I ever really did. I was in love with the idea, not the person.”

“Sorry,” he answered, his voice low and hoarse. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

She reached up to kiss him. “No, you shouldn’t have. I won’t hold it against you, though.”

“Good,” he replied, drawing her closer. “I don’t need any more negatives; I’m starting from far enough behind as it is.”

Honey shook her head. “If you’re going to talk that way…”

“Okay, okay. I give in.” He ran a gentle finger down the side of her face. “Everything’s rosy and it’s never been better.”

“I’d like it better if you really meant that,” she complained.

Dan shrugged and turned serious. “I do love you, Honey. I can’t help it if there are things that I’d rather change.”

“Well, I don’t want things to change.” She shook her head, frowning. “I’m still recovering from some of the other so-called positive changes in my life. I need some stability.”

“That kind of stability is overrated,” Dan grumbled. “And I was offering you stability – you’re the one who didn’t want it.”

Honey heaved a sigh. “I really don’t want to talk about this again, Dan.”

He gave her a long look and nodded, not saying another word.

The apartment door creaked as Honey pushed it open. Inside was pleasantly warm and she took off her jacket, folding it over her arm before she moved on. She took a glance around the room, seeking any clue as to whether Dan was already home. A slight noise from the kitchen gave her the information she sought and she slowly headed in that direction.

“I got it,” she announced, in stunned tones. “I don’t know what I’m going to do with it, but I’ve got it.”

Dan looked up from his dinner preparations with a quizzical look. “You have what?”

She held out a contract for him to see. Dan frowned as he skimmed through the difficult language, and further when he came to the section Honey indicated. “What does this mean? How much money are they advancing you?”

“That much,” she replied, tapping a slender finger against the number. “That’s how much they’ve already advanced me. It’s in my bank account right now. How do you feel about moving? Maybe I could buy a house.”

“What?” He stared at her, seeming to forget what he was supposed to be doing. “We’ve got a roof over our heads already. Why would you want a house? You told me a couple of weeks ago that you didn’t want things to change, that you wanted stability – by your definition and not by mine – and now you’re wanting a house?”

Glancing around the tiny, cramped apartment, Honey let out a little sigh. “I’d like a little more space,” she admitted. “Somewhere a little more quiet… more homey. Somewhere that I could have a proper working-space and not have to wear ear-plugs to block out the noise of the TV.”

“You want me to commute?”

She giggled. “I’m not thinking of Sleepyside. I was thinking of maybe somewhere like Staten Island. You could take the ferry.”

“It’s still a commute,” he muttered. “Could be worse, I guess. You could be talking about New Hampshire.”

Honey whacked him across the arm, frowning up as he grinned at her. “You can leave my New Hampshire relatives out of this,” she answered. “I have no intention of ever moving up there, but I have every intention of making a nice home for us somewhere more homey than here. I thought you’d like more space.”

Dan nodded. “So long as I don’t have to spend hours a day travelling. Check out the market, if you like. It’s okay by me.”

“Fine,” she answered. “I will – starting tomorrow.”

The first item on Honey’s house-finding agenda was to take a walk around one of the potential neighbourhoods that she was considering. With that end in mind, she took the Staten Island Ferry, meaning to check whether the commute would be too onerous for Dan. The journey was cheap, and not too long, but when she disembarked, she found that almost everywhere was uphill. Frowning to herself, she set off.

Some time later, and only a little out of breath, she thought that she had found a suitable area. The aspect was pleasant, with the houses on one side of some streets overlooking the river, but many residences of a modest but clean appearance. She took careful note of where she was, smiling to herself as she did so.

Despite the exertion of her walk, the breeze was cold and Honey shivered. Feeling weary and a little chilled, she was on her way back to the ferry and homeward when she decided to find somewhere to sell her a nice, warm cup of coffee but instead happened upon the office of a real estate agent.

The window display showed a number of properties for sale and Honey sighed when she saw the prices attached to many of the nicer ones. Her eyes scanned the display until she found a few that were within her price range: a shabby, run-down little house, barely more than a shack; a well-presented home in a location that she thought was a long way from where she now stood and a forlorn house surrounded by overgrown gardens. She studied each of these in turn and shook her head. Then, her eyes were drawn to another house, whose simple lines were pleasing to the eye and spoke of a different age. The price made her gulp, but the description sounded enchanting and the picture was that of her perfect house. Nodding once, she went inside.

Fifteen minutes later, the agent was opening the front door of the house of her choice for her. She stepped inside, from a garden that was a little untidier than had appeared in the photograph, into an empty room, the cold wind swirling the dust as they entered. Paint peeled, here and there, and the carpets had seen better days, but Honey could see the potential of the house. It would need a certain amount of work to make it liveable, but the position was good, the grounds acceptable and the basic layout of the house conformed to her requirements.

With growing excitement, she noted to herself the property’s good points until she was fully convinced that this was her house. She smiled at the agent and enquired about bringing Dan in to see the house, then asked him for a moment to make a call. Her request granted, she pulled out her cell phone and dialled Dan’s number.

“I think I’ve found it,” she informed him, with an excited little bounce. “When can you come and see it?”

“You’ve found what?”

“My house, of course,” she replied. “I’m here, now, and I want you to see it, too, so I told the agent I’d call you, so we could make a time to see it together, so when can you make it?”

There was a pause, apparently while Dan consulted his schedule. “How far is it?” he asked. “I guess I could take an extended lunch break, but then I’d have to stay late to make it up.”

“That’s great. I’ll meet you – when? Twelve? Twelve-thirty?” She rattled off an address and a lot of directions, repeating herself as necessary as he wrote them down. “Love you, Dan. See you then.”

Honey was nearly bouncing with excitement as they walked through the overgrown garden to the front door of the old house. The estate agent was lucky not to be knocked off his feet as she dashed inside, ready to show the place off to Dan.

“It’s not exactly the Manor House,” she babbled, as they entered, “and it sure needs some work, but it’s exactly the sort of place I’m looking for, and it has everything I want in a first house, and I’m sure that it won’t be that hard to make it liveable – really just some paint, and new drapes, and new carpet in most of the rooms – and don’t you think this little bow window is just adorable – oh, and over here would be my office – this would be our bedroom, and there’s room for a dining table over here. The bathroom needs a lot of work,” she added, screwing up her nose, “but the rest of the place seems okay. What do you think?”

She waited breathlessly, gazing up into his face, seeking approval of her choice. “Let me look around a little, Hon,” he requested, softly. “I can’t take it all in at once.”

Without another word, he slowly walked through the house ending in the room that Honey had designated as her potential office. “I don’t like this room,” he told her, in a quiet voice. As he did so, the estate agent made a slight move and Dan’s eyes focussed on the man’s face. “Is there anything about this house that we should know before we seriously consider it?”

“It’s in a great position,” the man replied, clearly winding up into a spiel, “and an ideal proposition for those looking for a property of distinction–”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it,” Dan interrupted. “But now that you mention it, it does seem rather expensive, compared to other properties in your window. It’s priced above the average for this area, yes?”

“It’s an above-average property. You’ll be buying a piece of history.”

Dan frowned. “What kind of history?”

Answering this question seemed to be outside of the agent’s ability, as he recommenced the list of the house’s positive attributes, including some which were nothing but positive spin put on liabilities. After a few minutes, Dan said that he had had enough and they left the house together. The agent pressed for Honey to talk about contracts, but Dan quietly put in that the two of them would need to discuss the matter first.

Once they were alone together, he began to tell her what was on his mind. “He’s hiding something from you, Honey; I just know it. Don’t buy this house without doing some research on it first.”

“But, Dan,” she almost sobbed, “it’s absolutely perfectly perfect! Someone else might snap it up if I hesitate too long. And what could possibly be wrong with it?”

He paused for a moment, as if trying to pin down a feeling. “There was some reason why I didn’t like that room,” he mused. “I can’t quite pick what it was… some memory, I think, or something. Then, there was the look on that guy’s face when I said that. It was almost as if he expected me to say it, or he’d been hoping I wouldn’t say it.” Before she could argue, he added, “And then there’s the fact that the place has been on the market for a long time. The ‘For Sale’ sign out the front was kind of stained from that tree it was under. I don’t think it would do that if it had only been there a few weeks.”

“But I can’t just leave it,” she told him, deeply disappointed with this turn of events. “It’s exactly what I wanted, and where will I find another one if I miss out?”

Dan paused, his face showing both his own uneasiness and sympathy to his girlfriend’s dilemma. His voice was gentle when he spoke. “You did only start looking this morning, so how do you know how many perfect houses there might be out there? Let’s at least think about it overnight,” he suggested. “Maybe in the morning I’ll remember what it is that I don’t like about that room.”

“I guess I could wait that long,” she answered, almost despondent. “But not much longer, please, Dan. Someone else is sure to love it and buy it any day now.”

In the early hours of the next morning, Honey was awoken by a shout and the fact that Dan was tossing and turning in bed. As she tried to decide whether to try to wake him, he opened his eyes and lay still.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, gently touching his arm. “Are you okay?”

“I had a dream,” he admitted. “There was a woman and she was crying, almost screaming. Someone was dead – a man, her man. Her name was Dinah. I’m sure I don’t know anyone called Dinah, but she seemed so familiar, so real. She was standing in that house we visited, in the room I said I didn’t like. There was blood on the floor. There was blood on her hands and her dress. There was something in the corner, but they wouldn’t let me see it. He was dead and it was Dinah’s fault and everyone was going to be in trouble.”

“It was just a dream,” she reminded him. “It’s not real, Dan.”

He turned and looked her full in the face. “Some part of that was real. I can’t remember how I know this, but I know that there’s something about that house.”

After a brief struggle of conflicting emotions, Honey’s features settled into an expression of distress. “But it’s perfect,” she protested softly. “It’s exactly what I want. How can it have something about it that would cause this sort of response from you? You can’t possibly have been there, can you?”

Dan reflected for a few moments. “I don’t know. I don’t remember going there, but if I didn’t, why do I feel this way?”

Honey’s eyes widened. “Maybe you’re psychic.”

Surprised at the suggestion, he laughed. “I don’t think so, Hon. I think I would have known about it before now if I was. I’m thinking that this is a real memory, but that it’s half-gone. Maybe if I leave it, I’ll remember a bit more and we’ll know what it’s all about.”

With a sigh, Honey lay back down. “I guess so. And I’ll see what I can find out in the morning. Maybe there’s an obvious answer.”

The following day was a Saturday. Early in the day, Honey went out to do some research, while Dan stayed home to do some tidying up. Nearing lunchtime, she returned to the apartment with the results of her search, but the shock she had received was such that she did not speak at once. She watched as Dan walked into the area which served as combined living room, dining room and office, carrying a bundle of papers. He was in the process of sorting them and filing them away when it came to his attention that Honey was standing in the apartment doorway, staring at him. He stopped, setting the pile down, and cast her a questioning look.

“Are you sure you’re not psychic?” she wondered aloud.

“Of course I’m not! Why are you even asking that?” His expression changed to one of perplexity. “Is there something to do with that house?”

She nodded and put some papers down on the table. “Look at this.”

Slowly, he walked towards her. On top of the small pile in front of her lay a copy of an inside page from a newspaper. His eyes skimmed over large advertisements and the photograph accompanying the main story on the page until Honey pointed to a small article, under the uninspired heading of ‘Man Found Dead’.

‘Police are investigating the suspicious death of Raymond Arnold Reynolds, 34, of Staten Island. The deceased was found in his own home shortly after authorities received a call to 911. Another resident of the house, Dinah Lou Veivers, 26, is missing and is wanted for questioning. Police are appealing for witnesses.’

When he had finished reading, Honey displayed the next sheet in the pile, which involved a slightly longer account and included both the street address and a photograph of the house. It also gave some further details of the incident. The man had died due to loss of blood, from a wound in his neck, but the blade which had caused the wound was not found at the scene. In the time since the previous article, the police had located and interviewed the other occupant of the house. Dinah Veivers claimed to have been out of the house between the time of the man’s death and the discovery of his body.

“So, I was – what? Two? Three, when this happened? I don’t get it. How could I possibly know this, Honey? My earliest memories are much later than that.”

“I don’t know,” she wailed. “It’s too much of a coincidence to not be something real, but I can’t figure out how you knew if you weren’t there – unless you are psychic, of course.”

“For the last time, I’m not psychic,” he told her, shaking his head. “There has to be some other explanation for it.”

“Well, what is it, then?” She raised a sceptical eyebrow. “If there’s another explanation, you’d better tell me what it is, because I don’t feel like believing in it if you can’t.”

He shook his head. “I can’t tell you that. How could I? I don’t know how I know.”

There was a long pause as Honey considered the matter. “Would you let me investigate?” she asked, finally.

“Sure,” he answered. “Investigate all you like; I don’t mind. More than that: I’d like to know, too.”

“Can I involve Trixie?”

He thought about it for a moment, then nodded. “That’s probably the best thing you could do.”

Later that afternoon, Honey arrived on her sister-in-law’s back doorstep and let herself into the warm kitchen, rubbing her arms to warm herself as she entered. She encountered Trixie walking through the living room and practically pounced upon her.

“Trixie!” Honey screeched, grabbing her friend’s arm so hard that Trixie grimaced in pain. “You’ve just got to help me with this case. It would have been such a perfect house, but now that Dan’s remembered what I think is an unsolved murder in it, I just have to know what it is that happened there and why and how Dan could possibly remember when he doesn’t remember remembering, and can’t figure out how he could ever have been there before.”

“I’d really love to help you, Hon,” Trixie replied, “but I’ve kind of sworn off murder cases after the last one. Jim really wasn’t happy about me almost being killed.”

“Oh, but I’m not investigating the murder, I’m investigating Dan, which is completely different.”

Trixie eyed her friend for a minute before bursting into laughter. “I’m not sure that I want to investigate Dan,” she explained. “I think I’ll leave that up to you.”

“You know what I mean,” Honey chided. “I’m investigating his past, not him personally, though, I do like to investigate him personally, but not with you, Trixie, which you should already know.”

“Okay, okay.” Trixie waved away the mental image. “I’ll help you investigate Dan’s past, if he lets me, but are you going to tell me what it’s all about, or do I have to guess?”

“I was looking for a house to buy–”

“You’re looking for a house to buy and you didn’t tell me?” Trixie demanded.

Honey huffed in exasperation. “I would have told you the next time I saw you, which is now, by the way, only I wouldn’t have seen you now, because I’m only here because of what I’m about to tell you, which you aren’t even letting me tell you–”

“Okay, then,” Trixie interrupted once more. “So, tell me.”

Her friend closed her eyes for a moment. “As I was saying, I was looking for a house to buy, and I found the most perfectly perfect one – though, it costs a bit more than I wanted to pay, but it’s just so perfect that I thought it would be worth it – but there was a room in it that Dan didn’t like and he said there was something bad about it and that I should research the house before I bought it, so I spent the whole morning at the library this morning, and I found that a man had died in that very room, under very suspicious circumstances. Oh, and before that, Dan had a dream about a woman called Dinah, who had killed a man in that room, and the details of Dan’s dream were the same as the details in the newspaper, but I didn’t see it until after Dan had dreamt it, so now we really need to know how Dan knows what he knows about that house.”

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me you were buying a house,” Trixie repeated, completely ignoring the point.

Honey growled with frustration. “Trixie! About the murder.”

“You didn’t tell me.” As her friend threatened to explode, she continued, “Okay, so there was a murder and Dan knew about it. Couldn’t he have seen it on TV when it happened?”

“When he was not-quite-three?” She shook her head. “And I don’t think it was that high-profile a case. It didn’t ever make the front few pages of the newspaper, it was kind of stuck inside. There just doesn’t seem to be any way he could know about this, but he does and how are we going to find out about it?”

“Leave it with me for a day or two,” Trixie suggested. “I know someone from work whose father used to be a police detective. With any luck, she might be able to get me in contact with someone who could give us something to go on.”

Honey nodded. “Okay, that sounds like a plan. But what happens if she can’t?”

Trixie screwed up her nose. “In that case, I think we’ll be doing some very boring research. So, you’d better hope that she can get me something.”

Continue to part two.