Part Three

Relations were somewhat strained between Honey and Dan for the next few days. In the morning, a rather hung-over Dan had apologised for his behaviour, and Honey had apologised for hers, but the damage was done. The two tip-toed around each other, not knowing quite how to get back to their previous level of comfort together. As the days passed, however, it seemed to get easier and Honey began to hope that she had not messed everything up completely. By Friday, she was starting to feel confident again, deciding that she would hide the fact of the fight with Dan from her best friend.

When she arrived at Rose Cottage that morning, it was to be greeted by the comforting smell of baking cookies and a blessed sense of respite from her troubles. The weather matched her unsettled mood. A chilly wind was blowing leaves around the yard and she welcomed the change of stepping from the chill of outside into the warmth of the kitchen.

“Mmm, it smells wonderful in here,” she greeted as she sat down at the kitchen table to wait.

“Have one,” Trixie offered, waving to a tray of cookies cooling on the counter. “I’ve got the last batch in the oven right now.”

Honey chose one that was studded with chocolate chips, taking a bite and closing her eyes in bliss. “I’m so glad I came here.”

Trixie giggled and handed Honey a mug of coffee. “I just knew it: you only love me for my cooking.”

“And for the peacefulness of the place you live, don’t forget,” her friend replied. “It’s days like today that I wish I still lived in Sleepyside.”

Trixie pulled the last tray from the oven and set it to cool. The kitchen was once more filled with the delicious aroma. She grabbed a plate, piled it with cookies and took it and her coffee with her to the study. Honey followed along.

“So, how did you go?” Honey asked, as they shut the door behind themselves.

Trixie screwed up her nose. “I don’t like Veivers. He was a creep. Other than that, I don’t have all that much.”

Her friend crinkled her nose in sympathy and took another cookie. “At least that means we don’t have to feel sorry for Veivers when we blame him for interfering with the crime scene.”

“True. I don’t feel sorry that he’s dead, either, other than that he might have been convinced to confess to that.” She shook her head. “It probably would have been easier to tell if it was murder, suicide or accident if he could have told what it was he did, but it’s too late now.”

“So, which do you think it was?”

“I can’t decide,” Trixie complained. “Either someone else killed him and Veivers made it look like Dinah did it, or it was either suicide or accidental and Veivers made it look like Dinah had murdered him. It almost has to be one of those, unless Dinah really did kill him, and I’d just about convinced myself that she couldn’t possibly, or unless Veivers’ alibi was a fake and he really killed him. Why is it that practically everyone concerned in this case is either dead or missing? It makes it so difficult to investigate.”

“It is a little strange, isn’t it?” Honey ran her finger down a page of her notes. “You wouldn’t think that it could happen that way, especially since most of them were young and it wasn’t terribly long ago.”

“Did you get any information from the missing persons stuff?”

Honey shook her head. “Not much. Dinah is apparently still listed as missing. There’s a write-up on her that I’ve seen and from what it says, no one has seen or heard from her, no clues have turned up, nothing. It’s like she disappeared off the planet.”

Trixie frowned. “And you’d think that if she’d died somewhere they’d have checked missing persons reports and identified her.”

“And, since they have her fingerprints on record, from when she was caught stealing when she was about eighteen, you’d think that they’d be able to find out who she was. Which means,” Honey added, “that either she’s still alive and living under another identity, or she had established another identity and died under it.”

“Or that her body has never been found,” Trixie concluded, darkly. “I’m beginning to be really suspicious about all of the deaths connected with this. Jim will not be happy if it turns out that there really was a killer who’s still on the loose and that he’s coming after us.”

Honey drew a shaky breath. “If you need to drop this, Trixie, I’ll understand.”

Trixie leaned over and gave her sister-in-law a hug. “That won’t help, you goose. Jim’s rather attached to you, as well.”

“When you put it that way, I guess not.” Honey shrugged. “I don’t think we’re any threat to whoever it is, in any case, since we can’t make head or tail of it.”

“They might not know that, though. If all of these deaths and disappearances are attributable to the one person, they probably don’t have much conscience left. They might just bump us off to be sure.”

“In which case, it’s probably too late already. Okay, Trixie, we’ll keep going, but right now I’m feeling like the only thing that can happen is that we’ll fail. We just don’t have enough to go on.”

Her friend sighed. “I know, and that’s worrying me, too. You don’t think we can get anything more from Dan? Something he heard or saw, something he doesn’t even realise that he knows?”

“I’ll try asking him again,” Honey offered. “I don’t know how much more we can expect from him, though. He was so young when it happened. I’m not sure what else we can do, though, without more information.”

“Well, let’s go over the different scenarios,” Trixie suggested. “Maybe we’ll pick up something that we didn’t see before.” She tapped her pen against her paper. “It could be murder; it could be an accident; it could be a suicide. Let’s start with the idea of it being murder. That would mean that Reynolds and some other person were in the house together that night. Dinah is not there, because we know that she was at work. Presumably, the murderer, then, is the one who took away the object which stopped the blood splattering on the floor. Veivers, when he arrives, presses the button between the dead man’s fingers and he may or may not have changed other things, such as removing the weapon.”

“That makes sense,” Honey answered. “If it was a suicide, it’s most likely that he was there alone and that means someone else came by and took the object before Veivers arrived. And, as well as maybe taking the weapon – if the other person hadn’t done that – he also might have taken the suicide note, if there was one.”

“Yes.” Her friend nodded. “If it was an accident, he may or may not have been alone. If he was alone, then we have a similar situation to the suicide theory, except without the note. If he wasn’t alone, we’d have to wonder why the other person didn’t try to get help for him.”

Honey shrugged. “That’s easy enough. Either they panicked, or they saw that it was too late. From the description of the wound, there was nothing that could have been done for him – a slash that big will cause a person to bleed out before you can stop it.”

“Well, whichever is true, someone saw him, either as he died or after, but didn’t call for help.”

“If it’s murder, then that’s easily explained, too,” Honey pointed out. “The murderer wouldn’t call for help – they’d want him to die and not be discovered.”

“By that reasoning, you’d think that an accident would be the least likely scenario,” Trixie mused. “I’m not sure, though. I think there’s still something here that we’re not seeing.”

“If we knew what the object was which was taken away, we’d probably know.” Honey frowned. “Though, I suppose the whole reason it was taken away was so that no one would know what it was.”

Her friend nodded. “Unless it was taken away so that the person taking it could have it. They could tell from the scene that it wasn’t an absorbent surface, so it’s possible that the blood was cleaned off it and it was… I don’t know, put back into use wherever it came from, or something.”

“And that place probably wouldn’t be in the house,” Honey added, “because the police would be looking for something that fit the description. They have ways of finding blood on things, even when you can’t see it.”

“I guess we’ll just have to trust that the police would have found the object if it was somewhere in the house.” Trixie’s brow puckered as she considered the matter. “I don’t see what else there is to do there at the moment. We’ll have to follow other lines of enquiry.”

“Are you going to keep looking for something on Veivers, or is it time to give up on him?”

“I’ll keep at it, but I’m not holding out much hope,” her friend replied.

“Which means that we’re pinning our hopes on Dan giving us something new, doesn’t it?” Honey asked. “All our leads are drying up and we’re getting nowhere.”

Trixie only nodded.

At home that evening, as cars honked and skidded on the rain-slicked streets below, Honey gritted her teeth and determined to confront Dan, with a view to getting more information from him. Her frustration with the lack of progress in the case overrode the raw feelings their recent argument had left, which in other circumstances would have made her leave the matter alone. As a result, she was less gentle than she perhaps should have been, launching into the discussion without much in the way of introduction.

“We need more information,” she told him, noting with dismay the closed expression that sprang to his face. “We’re not getting anywhere, and without more information about your parents, we’ve got nowhere to go. You need to tell us more.”

“What is there to tell?” he asked. “I’ve told you everything I can.”

“There must be something more you can remember,” she prompted, her voice rising in frustration. “Think, Dan! You must have some idea of what kind of people they were.”

His shoulders tensed and he began to pace. “I’ve explained as best I can. How do you expect me to describe them? It’s not that simple.”

“Just say whatever you remember. Their likes, their dislikes. The people they knew, the places they went.” She made a sharp gesture. “Anything, Dan. We have nothing to go on. You need to give us something more.”

Dan turned his back, angered. “There’s nothing left to give. The more I try to remember, the less that’s there. I can’t remember any of their friends. Most of the places they went aren’t even there any more – and I couldn’t find them if they were. Sometimes, I can’t even remember what they looked like, or the sound of their voices. There’s nothing more, Honey. I can’t give you anything else.”

“You haven’t even tried,” she accused. “You’re blocking out the memories because you don’t want to think about them, but if we’re going to solve this, we need answers. Take it down a level – we could use emotions, values, world views.”

“Well, I don’t want to talk about those.” He was standing over her, now, his anger and pain overwhelming.

Honey did not back down. “Maybe you need to.”

“Fine,” he snapped. “Let’s start with values, since you brought that up. I think they’d be ashamed of me for living like this. Is that what you wanted to hear?”

For a long moment, Honey was silent, her head bowed. “For myself, no. As a detective, absolutely. Do you think that would mean they would disapprove of Dinah’s living arrangements?”

The negative emotions on his face were replaced by a look of astonishment. “Yeah. Definitely. Does that make a difference to the case?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. It might.” Her voice was more gentle when she continued. “Is there anything else? I don’t want you to feel bad, Dan, but these are the kinds of insights we need, and I don’t know how else to get them.”

He nodded, looking away. “They were caring people. I always felt loved and valued by them. Our family – the three of us, I mean – was everything to them. We didn’t have anyone else. Money was always tight, but they didn’t seem to worry about that.” He paused, biting his lip. “They were kind and honest and law-abiding. They did teach me right from wrong, which is partly why I didn’t want to be found after Mom died – I knew that what I was doing was wrong. But I don’t see how any of this can help you.”

“It might,” she told him, her hand resting on his arm. “And even if it doesn’t, I’m glad you told me, since I won’t ever meet them.”

Dan turned and embraced her. “You were right: I don’t like to think about them, or talk about them. It makes me sad and I feel like I’ve had enough sadness in my life without dragging some up from the past.”

“I’m sorry,” she murmured. “I don’t want to cause you pain.”

He pulled her closer. “I know. I’m sorry for getting angry about it. I told you that I wanted to know, but I’m not liking what I’m finding out.”

“I’m sorry,” she repeated, in a whisper. “I want to make it better. I want to help you through this. I’m just not doing a very good job of it.”

“It’s okay.” His voice was low, but his embrace was warm and comforting. In that moment, Honey knew that despite their disagreement, they would be okay.

Honey related her conversation with Dan to Trixie when they next met. She found it hard to meet her best friend’s eyes as she did so; the feelings of guilt at the way she had spoken to him were growing stronger as time passed. Trixie seemed oblivious to the strain, or at least was politely ignoring it. Her face showed thoughtful interest.

“What are you thinking?” Trixie asked. “Did Dan’s parents disapprove of Dinah’s living arrangements? And, if so, did they disapprove on principle, or did they disapprove because of what they had seen of Dinah’s life?”

Honey frowned. “That’s an interesting point. You mean, which came first: the disapproval, or the living arrangements. I don’t really know.” She began tapping her pencil against the table in a rhythmic pattern. “Dan thinks that they did disapprove – and I’d tend to believe him. I would have thought that they’d have had the principle first, but now that you mention it… well, there’s nothing, really, to tell us, one way or the other.”

Trixie started pacing up and down the room. “See, what I’m wondering is, did the disapproval come before or after the events that we’re talking about here. What if they didn’t start being so disapproving until after whatever it was that happened here? Could something have caused them to take up that attitude, and could it give us a clue?”

“You mean, like the circumstance of their small son seeing a crime scene?” Honey shuddered. “I think, if I was a parent, I’d be a bit upset about that. He was so little when this happened.”

Her friend stopped short. “That’s a good point. If they disapproved, why would they get involved?”

“Lots of people have made it clear that they disapprove of Dan and me, but that doesn’t stop them being involved in our lives.”

Trixie gave her friend a hug. “That’s because we all love you.” She turned thoughtful. “So, maybe we’re looking for a relationship that’s based on love – between Dinah and Dan’s parents, I mean. I wonder if they went to school together, or something; after all, I went to school with you.”

“I don’t know where Dan’s father went to school, but I suppose it’s more likely it was his mother who went to school with her…” Honey trailed off. “Oh, wait. We know how old Dinah was from the newspaper report. I don’t think they’re the same age.”

The two scrabbled among the papers, found the one that they wanted and began calculating. “You’re right,” Trixie decided. “She’s not the same age as Dan’s mother – she’s five years older. That’s too much of a difference for them to have been childhood friends, or anything like that, don’t you think? Do we know how old Dan’s father was?”

“Not really,” Honey answered. “Dan thinks his parents were about the same age as each other, but we don’t really know.”

“Well, hopefully we’ll get that when we get his death certificate.” Trixie took a glance at the calendar. “We probably won’t get it for another few weeks, though.”

“Well, we might mark that down to follow up later,” Honey suggested, “but it doesn’t look so likely, now that I think about it. And it still doesn’t explain how one of Dan’s parents could have been at the scene without the police knowing that someone else had been there. Unless, of course, they were really careful and didn’t leave any trace.”

“Is it really so easy to walk in and out of a house without leaving any trace? Is it even possible, in this case?” Trixie wondered. “If it had been someone outside of the family who did it, surely they’d have left some evidence, wouldn’t they?”

Honey shrugged. “I suppose it depends how closely the police were looking. Though, from what Jack told me, they were looking very closely, but just couldn’t find anything.”

“So, either they were very professional, or very lucky, or there really wasn’t anyone in the house that day, other than Reynolds, Dinah Veivers and, possibly, some members of Dinah’s family, who Jack seemed to discount right out of hand.”

“That seems right.” She frowned. “Though, if no one was there, other than those people, how did Dan see what we think he saw? How could you take a child of three into a house and have them not leave a trace?”

“Without tying them up and wrapping them in plastic? I have no idea,” Trixie answered. “You’re right, though: that’s really strange. Do you think it could be that he was in the house sometime before the death, and only heard about it?”

Honey shrugged. “It doesn’t seem all that likely. Who would describe a scene like that to a three-year-old? Even if they told him that the man was dead, they wouldn’t have told him about the blood, and blood figured really heavily in Dan’s dream.”

“Maybe he overheard it accidentally?” Trixie shook her head. “Or, maybe he did leave some evidence at the scene, but the investigating team discounted a small child’s fingerprints for those of one of Dinah’s relatives, without actually checking them.” She stopped. “We’re grasping at straws, here. I think we need to think about that a little more, but it’s definitely significant.”

“But it brings us back to where we started – with it being so unlikely that Dan could know this.” Honey sighed. “We’re going around and around in circles and I don’t know where it’s all going to stop.”

Her friend nodded. “We take little steps forward, but they never seem to get us anywhere.”

“So, what do you think happened, Trixie?” Honey asked. “How do you think Dan fit into this?”

“The only conclusion I can draw is that Dan was there with one or both of his parents, or someone his parents had let mind him,” Trixie answered, her face contorted with distress. “He seems to remember it, and there’s no way he could have seen it other than if he was actually in that house. I guess, if it wasn’t one of his parents themselves, it might possibly have been a babysitter or something, but the biggest possibility in all this is that Dan’s mother or father was there with Dan and that they were the ones who helped cover up for Dinah.”

“But that means that Dan’s parents had a strong connection to Dinah.” Honey began to tap the end of her pencil on the table, unable to keep still. “If that was true, why can’t we find out what it was? Surely, if she was close enough to cover up a murder for, she must be close enough that the police would have found out about them, wouldn’t they?”

Trixie sighed. “You’d think so. I wonder if Regan can tell us anything else. Maybe he had another sister that he’s never mentioned, or something.”

Honey giggled and some of the tension in the room dispersed. “What are you going to do, Trixie? Ring up Regan and ask, ‘By the way, do you have any other sisters you’ve forgotten to mention?’ on the off-chance that he knew she was a murderer and disowned her?”

“Well, actually,” Trixie began, “that’s kind of what I was thinking of doing. I wasn’t going to talk about murders, though, only siblings, cousins and any other relatives he might have had, whether dead or alive. You never know, there might have been somebody.”

“I agree that it’s worth a shot,” Honey answered, “but I think it’s a bit of a slim hope.”

“I do, too, but if I don’t ask, I won’t know.” Her friend frowned for a moment. “Maybe I should do that right away.”

She picked up the phone and dialled the number, setting it on speaker and tapping her fingers against the desk as she waited for it to be picked up.

“Can I ask you something, please?” she asked, when he answered and they had exchanged greetings.

“Go ahead.” He sounded wary.

She took a breath. “You haven’t ever mentioned anything about any relatives, other than Dan’s mother. I’m just wondering if you could tell me about any others there might have been – people that you might have assumed were deceased, for example, or any cousins you might have not known well.”

“I haven’t mentioned any because there weren’t any others. After our parents died, there was no one but Carrie and me. No cousins. No aunts or uncles. No grandparents living in my lifetime. Nothing.”

“Oh.” Trixie did not know how to respond to that, as the situation was so far from her own experience. “Well, I guess that disposes of that theory. I don’t suppose you knew anything about Dan’s father’s family?”

Regan laughed, though without much humour. “No. Not a thing. Any other questions?”

“No, I suppose not,” she answered and wound up the conversation.

Honey sighed. “We expected that. It doesn’t make the disappointment any less, though.”

“It doesn’t,” Trixie answered, shaking her head. “It narrows the field, though.”

“The field hardly needed narrowing. It’s so narrow already that we hardly have a field at all.”

Her friend grimaced. “Don’t remind me. Well, if that theory’s a wash-out, we’ll just have to keep going along the lines we’ve already got.”

Honey nodded. “I don’t know how much longer they’ll hold out, though. We seem to be getting nowhere.”

Trixie screwed up her nose. “Don’t remind me of that, either. We’ve just got to keep going. Something will turn up soon; I’m sure of it.”

Honey jerked awake as Dan sat straight up in bed, yelling, “No!” His breath sounded loud in the dark stillness and it came in uneven gasps. Agitated fingers raked through his hair before one palm wiped across his face.

“Dan?” she asked, in low tones. “Did you have another nightmare?”

“Yes – no – I’m not sure.” He shook his head. “I must have, but it’s gone kind of vague, except for that feeling of dread you get. I’ve remembered something else, though. I think we need to check it out.”

He had swung his legs off the side of the bed and made it half-way across the room before Honey had the presence of mind to ask, “Where are you going?”

“I’m just getting something from the other room,” he called, as the drawer of the filing cabinet opened and shut again. He returned a moment later, carrying a large yellow envelope. “It’s some papers that I got from Uncle Bill when I turned eighteen. Some of them were my mother’s, that he got when they sent me to Sleepyside.”

He flicked on the light and tipped the envelope’s contents out across the rumpled sheets. Dan started to sort through them, setting aside his own birth certificate and that of his mother, a number of school reports from Sleepyside and some official-looking documents on various kinds of letterhead. A smaller envelope emerged from the pile, the word ‘Important’ inscribed across it by hand.

“This is what I was thinking of,” he told her, turning it over and over. “I should have thought of this before. It’s in my mother’s hand-writing.”

Honey frowned. “But how did you get it?” she wondered. “You said that Regan was given some things from your mother, but how did they get to the judge to be given to him in the first place?”

Dan looked away. “I’ve never really talked about this to anyone.”

She backed off at once. “If you don’t want to tell me–”

“I’ll tell you.” His voice was quiet but firm. “When my mother died, she owed a lot of money. I knew that everything she had would be sold, that there would be nothing left for me but more debts, so I just left before I could be sent somewhere I didn’t want to go, or someone tried to make me pay. I didn’t think anyone would look for me, but it turns out I was wrong. Whoever it was that went through my mother’s things saw that I had lived there, too; they found my birth certificate and knew that I was only thirteen. They had enough sense of civic duty, or something, to keep any important papers they found – and that’s how they found my uncle when I got caught. His birth certificate was in the bundle of papers that my mother had, with hers and mine.”

Honey nodded. “Was you father’s birth certificate there, too? Your parents’ marriage certificate?”

Dan shook his head. “Not as far as I know. Just those papers there and this envelope. And no one ever understood what it was about.”

Her face grave, Honey took it from him and slid out a single sheet of lined writing paper. Her brow creased as she read and, once she was finished reading, she looked up at Dan in confusion. “‘In case the matter comes up again and I am not alive to tell about it,’” she read, aloud, “‘I want it to be known that Dinah Veivers wasn’t involved in the things that happened at the house on Staten Island before Ray’s death. Those men who were after her had the wrong idea and the things that Tim and I did were to protect her. She never knew that Ray wasn’t the one to steal them. She just thought he’d done it and that it was best to put them back where they’d come from and not leave a blot on his character when he was dead and not able to defend himself. She’s hiding because they threatened to kill her and I don’t know where she is. I don’t know how they knew that I was helping her, but they threatened us too. The lies we’ve told and the things we’ve done, I know they were wrong, but we had to do it to protect Danny.’ And it’s signed Carrie Mangan, by the looks of it – though, I don’t know what that line is across the top of the surname – and dated 1980. You’re sure this is her handwriting, Dan?”

“Yeah, I am. Does it help at all?” Dan asked, eyeing her with a worried look.

His girlfriend shrugged. “It sure looks like it’s related, but I think I’m going to have to run it by Trixie. In the morning, I mean. I don’t think she’d appreciate a call just now.”

Dan shuffled the papers into a rough pile and dumped them onto the floor. “Well, let’s get back to sleep,” he suggested. “The morning is soon enough to worry about this.”

Honey nodded and followed his lead, but her mind was churning and sleep was a long time coming.

When morning came, Honey placed a call to Trixie, only to find that she was working long hours for the next several days. In desperation, she agreed to meet her friend for breakfast at five o’clock the following morning. To avoid being forced to drive at that time of day, she accepted the offer of a bed at Rose Cottage for the night.

Bleary-eyed, she dragged herself to the breakfast table in the morning, where she scowled at her brother, who was wide awake and cheerful.

“So, what’s so important that you’re awake now?” Trixie asked, her words cut off by a wide yawn. “I didn’t think you knew this time of day existed.”

“It doesn’t, usually,” Honey replied. She pulled out the note and began to explain the circumstances of its coming to light. “So, what do you think? Is it related?”

“It almost has to be,” Trixie answered. Her eyes were shining and she was digging in to her breakfast as she read. “So, Dan’s mother definitely knew Dinah and wanted it known that Dinah hadn’t done something – but it’s not the killing, it’s a theft. I’d guess, though, maybe it’s somehow related to the killing. It kind of has to be about the same time, because of Dinah hiding – which is what she did after the killing, though, I guess she might have done that more than once.”

Honey nodded. “I guess she could have. The part about them threatening to kill people worries me, though. I wonder who they were and whether they might find out that we’re investigating?”

Her best friend leaned over and patted her hand. “I’m sure they couldn’t find out about us. Who would tell them? And I’d guess from the way this is worded that they’re the real thieves and that Reynolds was just handling the stolen goods. I don’t see what they would gain from coming after us – we didn’t have anything to do with that. And I don’t see how they could be the killers, since they left the booty there for Dinah to cart away.”

“I suppose so,” Honey agreed, “but what about the part where they threatened Dan’s family? Are we sure that they didn’t carry that out?”

Trixie gave a sad smile. “Yes, I’m pretty sure. I’ve seen both of their death certificates, now, and it really looks like they both died of natural causes. Nothing suspicious at all and both of the certificates issued right away without having to have any kind of enquiry first.”

Once more, Honey nodded and considered this. “What do you think the rest of it means for Dan’s mother?”

“I think it means that she was there,” Trixie mused, “and, since Dan has these memories, I think it means that she took him with her. I just can’t understand why, though. Why would a mother take her small son to a place like that crime scene? She says in her note that she was protecting Dinah, but wouldn’t she protect Dan first?”

“Maybe she didn’t know it was a crime scene when she went.” Honey frowned and set down her fork. “Maybe it wasn’t a crime scene when she got there. Maybe she did know, but didn’t think Dan would see anything. Maybe she was tricked into going.”

Trixie shook her head. “I don’t think that second one is an option. From Dan’s dream, it seemed that it was all over when he arrived.”

“But how accurate is the dream?” Honey wondered.

“I don’t see how we can know that,” Trixie answered, “but I would guess it’d be more likely that he’d see the crime scene and imagine the crime than that he’d see the crime and imagine the crime scene after it’s all over. That’s just my guess, though.”

Honey nodded. “Do you think this gets us any closer to a solution?”

Trixie shrugged. “A little. We’re inching closer, I think. I kind of wonder, though, whether this might be the case that I don’t get to solve.”

“I hope not, for Dan’s sake,” her friend answered.

“I hope not, too,” Trixie agreed. “But we might have to face the fact that there just aren’t that many leads left to follow.”

“We still have a few, though.” Honey frowned. “Which do you think we should follow next?”

“Well, I think there are a few things about that note that we should check on,” Trixie mused. “Like whether there were any other things that happened at that house in the year or two leading up to the death. Do you want to do the next stint at the library, or will I?”

“I guess I could,” Honey decided. “It’s supposed to be my case, after all, so I suppose I should do the boring work.”

Trixie grinned. “I’m glad you said that. I’m pretty sure, if you leave it to me, it won’t get done for weeks. I’m just not that into libraries.”

Continue to part four.