Early December, New York City

“Good grief, this bucket weighs a ton.  Remind me again why I have to do the manual labor?” 

“Because I’m providing the protection,” Dan reminded his best friend, as he patted his police issue side-arm.  "Besides, we wouldn't have done a very good job if it wasn't heavy."

“Wait, I thought you were the muscle.  Shouldn’t the muscle be carrying the heavy stuff?”  Mart Belden was careful not to mention he was carrying a load of money to turn into the Salvation Army.  The two Bob-Whites were reporting in from bell ringer duty, having been relieved a few minutes earlier. The current mission was to unobtrusively deliver the money to the appropriate location designated by the Salvation Army.  This year it helped tremendously that Dan was not only an active-duty NYPD officer.  He was more than willing to donate his time along with the other Bob-Whites.  They tried to do a Christmas Charity project together each year, although with their varied schedules it had become more challenging to find one in which they could all participate.  The Salvation Army worked out the best for them this year.

“Dude, I might still be a rookie police officer, but no way am I carrying the money.  It doesn't look good.  Don't you know all the stories about cops and payoffs, not to mention — Wait!"

Mart stopped suddenly when Dan grabbed his arm.  Glancing down at the hand on his arm and then sideways towards the alley he saw what had grabbed Dan's attention.

A  tall, burly man was struggling in the alley with a medium sized dog.  It was hard to tell the dog's  breed, or if even was a breed, it was so dirty.  The animal was tethered with a short piece of cord that at first glance seemed to serve as both collar and leash.  The noise of the swarthy stranger berating the cowering pup was less than harmonious.

"You stupid mutt!  Leave that stinking trash alone.  Once we get back to the village you can see if you can find yourself some eats." The dog trembled as the man gave the lead a hard yank.  It was obvious the animal was scared.

"Some people have no business owning dogs," Mart remarked quietly as he frowned at the scene unfolding in front of them.  He and Dan watched, mesmerized by the drama, as the dog once more tried to escape from the distressing bounds.

"You mangy mongrel!"  A swift kick aimed at the dog resulted in yelps of pain and the two Bob-White men leapt into action.

"Wait just a minute!" As he strode purposefully into the alley, Dan's tone left no doubt that he meant business.  "There are laws against animal cruelty you know.  Yanking on the leash like that is bad enough, but that dog is already terrified of you.  You don't have any business kicking it."

"Really?"  He sneered.  "What are you going to do about it?"

Dan pulled back his jacket and exposed his police badge.  "We can start with a citation, then we'll discuss animal control ordinances."

One look at the badge was enough, and the brawny man took off at a surprising speed, dragging the dog with him.  Mart and Dan were caught completely off-guard.  After the moment of surprise, they both started an earnest pursuit of the thug.  Mart stopped when the man dropped the leash and left the dog whimpering in the alley.  Dan continued until the end of the alley when the hoodlum hailed a taxi and took off.  Remembering the bucket of money he was entrusted to protect, he made note of the cab number and returned to find Mart holding the leash and attempting to comfort the mistreated animal. 

"Awww, dude, look at this pooch," Mart knelt down, careful to keep the money cache close to him.  "This is one grubby canine."   The dog cringed as Dan knelt down next to Mart. 

"It's pretty dirty," Dan agreed. "Male or female?"

Taking a quick look, Mart confirmed the sex.  "Male.  Neutered.  Now what are we going to do?  You can tell the mutt's scared of us."  Mart held out his hand, but the dog continued to tremble in fear.  

"There's not much we can do until we get that money turned in."  Dan looked around and noticed they were apparently the only ones who had observed the animal abuse that had taken place.  He stood up and shoved his hands in his pockets.  "Where's Jim?  He's our dog whisperer.  He should be able to figure something out."

Mart shook his head.  "He's teaching and then he has parent conferences until at least six.  He won't be able to help until later.  In the meantime, I guess we go turn the money in and make a plan.  Do you think we can get this mutt to come with us?"  He stood up and gave the leash a gentle tug.  The animal whimpered, and he shook his head in dismay.

Dan studied the dog and then had an idea.  "Put the leash down and start walking," he instructed Mart.   "Maybe he'll follow us."

The two men made it to the end of the alley and turned around.  The dog had gotten to his feet and taken a couple of steps toward them, but now seemed to be trying to make up its mind.  Mart gave a short whistle and the dog bounded toward them.

"Wow, who'd of thunk it," he said in surprise.

Dan laughed.  "Yeah, the Bob-White whistle saves a dog.  Come on, let's get moving while we can.  The fewer people who think this dog belongs to us, the better off we are."

John Jay College of Criminal Justice

"What organization has one mission, two priorities, and eight investigative areas?"

The group of senior college students replied as one, "The FBI."

"Exactly, and you had better be able to name every one of those on the final and provide at least two examples of how each can conflict with other law enforcement agencies."  The Fonz surveyed his class room attempting to locate a student he could catch off guard.  Professor Mark Fondzacarro had never had any hope of avoiding his popular nickname.  He'd given up trying years ago and embraced the nickname, lifted from a popular 1970's era sitcom.  At the beginning of each term, he introduced himself to each class, telling his students not to let the name fool them, he was not the coolest professor on campus.   His sense of humor went a long way in teaching advanced students at John Jay College.  Today in particular, he was having fun with his favorite course, CRJ348, otherwise known as Special Topics in Criminology.  "Why is the FBI involved in many jewel heists?”  Ignoring the raised hands of several students, his eyes landed on the curly head of the one student who seemed to be studying something other than today's subject matter.  "Belden, can you enlighten us?"

Trixie looked up and took a deep breath, her mind quickly processing what the question had been.  "Several reasons," she stammered, stalling for time to recall the notes she had reviewed the previous evening. 

"The top two, then," he prompted, secretly enjoying the fact that he might have actually stumped his prize student.

"Most jewelry and gem thefts cross state lines," she managed to recall from the class-assigned reading.  "Items stolen are rarely fenced in the same town in which they were stolen.  Organized crime is also responsible for many of these types of crimes, and finally, uh, those responsible are usually already being watched by the FBI."

"Very good," the Fonz acknowledged.   “Now, can someone else name a popular jewel heist that was recently in the news?”

Trixie breathed a sigh of relief that her professor’s attention had turned to another student.   This particular course had become one of her favorites and as the semester wound down, the review of the subject matter was critical for acing her final exam.  Normally she’d never be caught off guard, but she’d just received an unusual text from her almost-twin. 

Come by apartment after class.  Need your help.

She quickly texted 'Will do' and returned her focus to the class just in time to hear her best friend answer the latest question.  “Several million dollars worth of jewelry and jewels were stolen from a jewelry store on the Upper East Side last month,” Honey explained.  “They included several original pieces as well as a cache of unset diamonds and other precious gems.”

The Fonz frowned.  “Not exactly what I was looking for, Wheeler.  Why was the heist unusual?”

Honey tried again.  “Because the jeweler was killed in the robbery, which happened in broad daylight.  Despite that fact, the robber seems to have disappeared and none of the jewelry or jewels have been fenced.”

“Exactly!” he beamed.  "Besides New York, what major fencing hubs would be alerted to this crime?"

"Miami, Houston and Los Angeles," another classmate piped up.

Honey looked over at Trixie and caught her eye.  This would probably be their last class together.  A required course for Trixie, it was an elective for Honey's pre-law program.  Both of them had found the class fascinating, since it focused on the problems law enforcement agencies encounter trying to work together.  The Fonz challenged them to think about how crimes could be solved outside the criminal justice system.  The last was something they had vast experience with.  But at this stage in their education, the science-based knowledge about crime reduction strategies was helping them to think about crimes both intelligently and critically.  

The Fonz wasn't close to being finished with the day's lecture.  “Now, can someone tell me why diamonds are a criminal’s best friend?”

New York City Apartment Building

"Wait just a minute!"  Both men froze as they recognized the unmistakable thick Bronx accent of their Super.  Dan had gone ahead to do the required reconnaissance in an attempt to slip the dog into their apartment.  He'd come back outside to report that it was clear and they were halfway across the lobby when they were stopped. 

"You call that recon work?" Mart muttered, as he flushed and pulled the dog's leash just a little bit shorter.

"Where do you think you're taking that dog?" the super demanded.

Dan reached for his wallet at the same time as Mart tried to explain.  "It's just for a couple of hours, sir.  My sister's going to stop by and pick him as soon as she's out of class.  He's been missing and needs a bath."  Mart deliberately led the apartment building's caretaker to believer that the dog belonged to Trixie, figuring he'd have a better chance of getting permission to take him upstairs.  "We don't want him to get away."

"Yeah, well we have a strict no-pets policy.  He waved his hand at the bill that Dan was trying to offer.  "Your money won't help me none.  If that nosy Mrs. Crutcher in 3G finds out you've got a dog, I won't have a chance to keep this job.  You can keep him in the basement until your sister gets here."

"But he needs a bath," Dan tried to argue.  "He stinks to high heaven."

"You can use the mop sink in the corner.  If it's good enough for the mops that we use around this joint, it's good enough for your sister's mutt."

In truth, Dan and Mart had chosen  their apartment because it was one of the few affordable places they could find that was routinely cleaned and kept well-maintained.  Hector Vargas ran the building efficiently and fairly, never leaving any doubt with his residents of his previous career as an Army Master Sergeant.   The mop sink would be as clean as their own bathtub, if not cleaner.

Accepting the validity of Hector’s solution, they turned to head downstairs to the basement.   "Tell your sister to feed that dog!" he barked as they were leaving.  "That's a growing dog and you can see his ribs."

Rather than try to explain further, Dan returned the advice with a mock salute.  "Maybe we should get some dog food, shampoo and stuff at the pet store?" he asked.

Mart looked dubiously at the dog.  While he still seemed to be afraid of the two men, he no longer resisted a tug on his leash.  They both hoped the animal was beginning to sense they had no plans to hurt him.  "Maybe we should feed him first," Mart readily agreed.  "But gleeps!  Do you want to take a dog looking like that to a pet store?  They'll mob us."

Dan shook his head sadly.  New Yorkers were known for their love of dogs.  "They won't be that nice."  He pointed a finger at Mart.  "You take the dog downstairs for a bath and I'll go get him some food."

"You forget Mr. Recon Man, we have nothing with which to bathe this poor beast," Mart pointed out.  "You're not making me feel good about police protection in this city, dude."

"Look, I'm not the dog person.  Did you ever see Mr. Maypenny with a dog?  Regan either, for that matter!  They had barn cats and everyone knows you don't bathe a cat."

"Yeah, at least not twice," Mart agreed.  "Okay, here's the plan.  Take D.O.G. for a walk and I'll run upstairs and get something to start bathing him with.  We're going to need a towel, anyway.  When I get back down, you go out for some food."

"Deal."

"Why do they want us to meet them in the basement?" Honey asked for the third time. 

""They didn't say," Trixie replied, turning to grin at her friend.  "You think it's a set-up?"

Honey shook her head.  "Nope.  It just makes me wonder."

"Yeah, well usually I'm the impatient one," Trixie laughed.  "I gave up trying to figure out my almost-twin years ago.  It's best just to wait and see.  Come on, let's take this shortcut."

In a few short minutes, Trixie and Honey pushed open the door to the apartment basement from the old alley next door.  Although they didn't try to be quiet, it seemed odd that while they could hear the guys talking, neither Dan nor Mart noticed them approaching down the stairs.  Once at the bottom, Trixie was the first to speak.  "What's up, guys?"

Both men jumped and turned to look at the stairs.  It was obvious they had expected them to come in through the lobby.  When they turned, both girls caught sight of a slightly bedraggled, but clean dog.

"Oh!  It's a dog!" they cried together, and hurried over to meet Dan and Mart's newest friend.  The questions flew fast and furious, with neither girl giving them a chance to answer. 

"Where did he come from?"

"Is he yours?"

"What's his name?"

"He's just adorable."

Much to Mart and Dan's chagrin, the dog wagged his tell and licked both girls as they fawned over him.  He wasn't the least bit afraid of them.  Trixie was the first to catch on.

"Someone hasn't been feeding this dog!" She ran her sturdy fingers along his ribs and down his legs.  “He's way too thin.  Where did you get this dog?"  She turned and glared at each man in turn, her foot already tapping impatiently because there had been no answers to the barrage of questions

"If you'll just give us a minute," Dan muttered.  "Can you believe it?" he said in disgust to Mart.  "He loves them.  We saved him, but he loves them."

It was true, the dog seemed smitten with both girls.  Honey continued to pet and cuddle the animal, but even she wanted answers.  She looked up at both men.  "Well?"

"We thought you might be ready for your first case," Dan tried to explain.  "You know, the Belden-Wheeler Detective Agency."

"What do you mean?"  Trixie's eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"We want you to find out who this dog belongs to." 

Two pizzas, a six pack of beer, three cans of the "right" kind of dog food, and one hour later, the four of them were sitting in Trixie and Honey's tiny apartment.  The story had been told and the pizza bones saved for late-night snacking.   Honey made a second trip to the pet store, where she had been unable to resist several chew toys, a handsome new leather collar and a box of "real bacon" dog treats.  Now the dog, that Trixie had decisively named Max, was sitting loyally between the two girls as if he were their guard.

"We always joked we’d start off by locating missing dogs," Honey said, for at least the third time.  

"We had to do something.  The super caught us trying to smuggle him in, and not even a small bribe could convince him to let us take the dog upstairs.  "Hector said we could keep him in the basement until you showed up."

"Why would he allow you to wait for us?" Trixie asked with a sweet suspicion. 

"Uh, well, we might have implied it was your dog," Mart hedged as Dan gave a snort.

"Your brother here went into some long convoluted tale about how this was your dog and it had been lost, and we wanted to get it cleaned up to surprise you."

"Why would you want him to think it was my dog?" Trixie asked in surprise. 

Mart and Dan exchanged abased looks and shuffled their feet.

"Do you want us to keep him?" Honey asked, puzzled.  "I'm sure we could, but our place is pretty small."

"For a little while," Mart answered truthfully, yelping as Dan's elbow caught him in the ribs.  "What did you do that for?"

"Be honest," Dan demanded. "We thought maybe Jim would keep him while you found his owner.  But if it turns out the guy abusing him was his owner, we want to find a new home for him."

“He has that revolting collar,” Mart started.  “No way a guy like that bought a jeweled collar for a dog.  He must belong to someone.  Maybe a young girl.”

It was Trixie and Honey's turn to exchange a look.  Somehow, it was important to the guys that they rescue the dog.

“Why call us?” Trixie pushed.  “Jim’s the one who can talk dog.  His apartment allows pets, too.”

“You really think Jim’s going to come all the way over here from his job in Brooklyn to help us track down a dog’s owner?”  Mart demanded. 

“Maybe if Trixie asked him,” Dan replied in a far too innocent tone.  “She could promise him –“

“Stop!” Mart interrupted.  “We are so not going there.”

Honey and Dan exchanged evil grins while Trixie rolled her eyes.  She deliberately ignored Mart.  "Jim would do anything we asked him to help a dog that was being abused," she said loyally.

"I'm sure our Super would let us keep him for a few days," Honey offered. 

"But --” Trixie attempted to protest, but her almost-twin knew her well enough to know the battle had been won. 

“Look, we gave him a bath and rescued him," Mart interrupted.  "Don't you think letting him stay here for a couple of hours until you can ask Jim about keeping him while you find his owner is the least you can do?"

Dan shot Honey an imploring look as the sibling rivalry appeared to be moving to the next level.

"Of course Max is staying here until Jim is home!" she interjected.  "I'll talk to the super and explain that it's just for tonight.  He won't make us pay a deposit just for tonight.  Jim can take over tomorrow if he wants.  Goodness knows we'd all better listen to him about training.  We don't want Max to be as unruly as Reddy was."  She glanced toward Trixie, who gave a confirming nod.   All the Bob-Whites were animal lovers and this particular dog was already working its way into their affections.

"Just remember, Trixie and I have final exams starting next week.  So when we ask you to help find his owner, then you're going to need to help."  Honey warned them.

They both nodded in agreement. 

Honey smiled and clapped her hands in delight.  "I'll make up a schedule for Max until we find his real owner."  Her hazel eyes twinkled.  "I vote we give Jim the early dog walking shift!"

“But Trixie, it’s a dog!” Jim protested weakly. 

Knowing her boyfriend as she did, Trixie simply arrived at his apartment, dog in hand.  There was no point in calling ahead and giving him time to come up with numerous perfectly logical and reasonable arguments about why the dog should be turned over to the appropriate animal control authority for the city.  “Of course it’s a dog, Jim,” she answered, a tad crossly.  “You don’t think I’d bring you a cat, do you?”

“Actually, I didn’t think you’d bring me any animal,” Jim spoke carefully, sensing the frustration in her tone.  “How did you manage to get tangled up in this?”

“Just look at him!” Trixie gave a light tug to the dog’s leash and they were both inside Jim’s small but neat apartment.  “After the guys managed to clean him up, we bonded.”

Bonded was a bit of an understatement.  When Trixie realized how much Max liked the bacon flavored dog treats, she'd offered him a piece of real bacon that morning at breakfast.  Now he was her best friend.  She couldn’t have gotten rid of him if she tried.  She needed the leash only to comply with local ordinances; the dog was attached to her like glue.  Max also liked Honey, but still only tolerated his real rescuers, Mart and Dan.   She reached down and unfastened the leash, allowing the dog to lick her hand.  “It’s just for a few days,” she started to explain, and looked up at Jim, her eyes pleading.

It was pointless.  Jim would do anything she asked short of murder, and there were times that she could probably convince him to do just that.  Fortunately for both of them, dog-sitting was not a crime.  Giving a sigh of surrender, he knelt down next to her and held a hand out to the dog.  “What do I need to do?”

Trixie smiled.  In that moment, Jim knew whatever was going to be asked of him would be worth it.  Trixie’s smiles were his weakness.  “Jim, this is Max.”  She handed Jim a small piece of bacon.  “Feed him this.”

Jim followed instructions well.  With one quick sniff and a wag of his short tail, the dog was bonding with him.  “Max, this is Jim.  He’s going to help us take care of you and find your owners.”

“He sure is clean for a stray,” Jim remarked, as his hands wandered over the animal, checking his ribs, examining his ears for mites, and otherwise looking him over. 

“Mart and Dan gave him a bath.  It was part of the deal.  Honey bought the new collar and the leash.  And I named him Max.”  Trixie grinned as she watched Jim’s careful examination of the pup.  “You should’ve seen the old collar.  It was as tacky as a dime store novel.  Lots of red and green jewels— it looked almost like a Christmas decoration.”

Jim frowned and he looked at Trixie.  “Since he was wearing a collar like that, he probably belongs to someone." 

“Maybe,” Trixie admitted.  “But Honey is already checking through online lost and found ads herself.  We don’t want to post an ad ourselves until we’ve done that.  We have a call into Brian to see if he knows anyone from medical school that took the veterinary route and then we’re hoping they can check him for an implant.  After that, we’ll see about running our own advertisement.”

“If anyone can do it, you two can,” Jim said loyally.  “Is this your first official case?”  He couldn’t resist teasing.

Trixie laughed and threw her arms around him in an appreciative hug.  "Honey says it is!"

The Bob-Whites banded together to help take care of Max.  Jim took the early morning walk and left Max in his apartment.  Trixie checked on him after her Economic Analysis of Crime course and took him out again.  Honey, Dan and Mart split up the mid day schedule and even the always-busy Brian made arrangements for a friend who had gone the veterinary doctor route to check him out.  It all seemed to be coming together, and Trixie relaxed as she made her way to her research internship right after lunch. 

Swiping her government badge to enter the FBI offices never failed to give her a small thrill.  She had worked hard to maintain the required grade point average to qualify for the Criminology Research Internship, but it had paid off.  She worked eight hours each week at the FBI offices and attended five different three-hour seminars related to FBI crimes.  The two hours each day she spent Monday through Thursday didn't sound like much to her friends, but it was absolutely her favorite part of her current school term.  For the first time, she could see her dream of being a detective beginning to come to fruition.

Her lofty dreams shattered when she reported in to her assigned supervisor and mentor, Special Agent Neil Burke, who promptly handed her a stack of new case files.  "These all need to be entered into the computer.  Hopefully, you can get that done the first hour.  Make sure all the photos upload, you know the program's been tricky about that lately.  Once that's done, I'd like to get your thoughts on this one."  He tapped the top file.

"What file is it?"  Trixie’s curiosity didn’t support waiting.

"Did you hear about the armed robbery that took place on Black Friday at the jewelry store on the 1100 block of Madison Avenue?” he asked.

“Yes, in fact it was mentioned in class yesterday.”

“Not surprising,” he acknowledged.  “It’s odd.  So get these entered and then let’s talk.”

Trixie nodded, knowing that was all he would tell her until she'd finished the assignment.  She quickly moved to the tiny cubicle she was assigned for her work and began to wade through a myriad of other interesting cases ranging from cargo theft to what appeared to be a new ring of electricity thieves.  The white-collar crimes division seemed to get quite an assortment of unusual crimes.  She finally made it to the file on the jewel heist, having deliberately saved it for last.  This time, instead of just inputting the key data points and scanning and uploading the photographs, she carefully read the entire file.  The case was interesting, and the modus operandi didn’t seem to fit most of the jewelry store thefts that came their way.  She studied each picture as she uploaded it, noticing the wide variety of jewelry.  Even the victim, Alexander Newman, seemed to be an interesting character.

In short order, she finished the task and reported back to Agent Burke.  “All files are entered and I’m ready to discuss the Alex Jewelry Store Heist,” she informed him as she handed him the files.  “The local LEOS took care of all the standard jewelry protocol notices.  The pictures of the stolen jewels have been added to the database and now those will be available across the country.  It certainly doesn’t seem like there are many leads.”

“There aren’t,” he replied tersely.  “It doesn’t help that Alexander Newman was apparently a well-educated, beloved member of the local community as well as a jeweler favored by many of the city's wealthiest.  He catered to an exclusive clientele and they are extremely upset over his murder.”

“They should be,” Trixie replied. “According to the reports, he didn’t resist in any way.  He was shot in cold blood in front of more than a dozen witnesses.  The store was packed with customers that the perpetrator used to his advantage to help him seemingly disappear the moment he exited the shop.”

“Which is exactly why the locals didn’t hesitate to call us in,” Burke replied.  “The city is in an uproar over it.  Over a dozen witnesses and they still don't know how he managed to get away.  The locals have viewed all the available security cameras but I’d like you to take a look.”

“Got it, boss.”

Humming a Christmas carol under her breath, Trixie pulled another one of the bacon flavored dog treats out of the box and used Jim's ice pick to poke a hole in the top.  Grabbing a nearby piece of ribbon, she cheerfully threaded the narrow strip of  bright fabric through the small hole.  After carefully tying a knot, she crossed to the small Christmas tree Jim had set up in his living room.  She selected a low-hanging branch that Max could easily reach for the homemade ornament.

Deck the halls with Milk Bone Dog treats, fa la la la la, la la la la.
'Tis the season doggies must eat, fa la la la la, la la la la 
Don the dogs with gay apparel, fa la la, la la la, la la la
Troll the ancient Yule dog carols fa la la la la, la la la la

"Is that a new Christmas carol?" Jim asked with a grin.  "I don't think I've heard it on the local station that's playing 24-hour Christmas music.  Maybe you should consider a new release?"

Honey giggled.  "If you don't think she has enough Christmas spirit, just ask her where she got Max's name from."

"Max's name?" Jim asked, puzzled.  "It's a good name for a dog."  He turned and looked at the dog who had immediately stood up and crossed to them when his name was said.  "Max, huh?"  His brow knit as he puzzled over the name for a few moments.  He shook his head.  "I got nothing.  Where did it come from?"

"The Grinch's dog was named Max!" Honey chortled in glee.  "It's perfectly perfect, don't you think?"

"But you and Trixie aren't Grinches," Jim protested. 

"No, but that horrible man that had Max to begin with could qualify," Trixie explained.  "Besides, I like the name Max.  It seems to suit him somehow."

"Yeah, it's a good name.  Just don't go buying him any of those fake reindeer antlers or anything to really make him look like the Grinch's Max."  Jim bent and gave Max a thorough rubbing.  It obvious he was as smitten with the animal as the rest of the Bob-Whites.

Trixie managed to muffle a giggle, but she couldn't dampen the twinkle in her eye as she turned and looked at Jim.  "Oh, don't worry.  You don't have to worry about me doing anything like that.  Max and me, we're all about the bacon and dog treats, aren't we boy?"

She knelt next to Jim to enjoy some play time of her own.  She picked up a rubbery tennis type ball, one of several toys Honey had purchased, and gave it a small bounce across the room.  "Here you go, boy."  Max faithfully turned to retrieve the ball.  Trixie leaned back on her knees.  "Is it just me, or does he seem to be incredibly smart?"

"He is incredibly smart," Jim replied.   "It's obvious that he's had some training.  He can already obey simple commands like stay and sit.  It wouldn't take much to train him some more."  He glanced over at Trixie.  "That is, if we decide who's going to be his trainer.  Everyone can't train him.  Remember Reddy?"

Trixie and Honey shared a look and giggled.  "Yeah, we know what you mean," Honey replied.  "It doesn't seem like we should work on it at all.  After all, if we're going to find his owner ...." her voice trailed off and she stood back up.  "Anyway, what do you think of your tree?"

Jim stood as well, and grinned as he surveyed the tree that Trixie and Honey had almost finished decorating.  "I don't think I've ever seen a dog-themed Christmas Tree before," he admitted.  "You girls outdid yourself.  The dog treats are a nice touch."

"Max is getting some other stuff for Christmas," Trixie told him.  "But since he's in the room, we can't tell you what it is."

Jim was quiet as he watched his sister and Trixie continue to make adjustments to the ornaments on the tree.  The dog paws, dog ornaments and various canine related themed ornaments were rather festive, but he didn't think either Honey or Trixie realized their job was to find Max's owner, not figure out a way to keep him.  He cleared his throat.  "Any luck with the ads today?"

Honey busied herself repacking the storage box while, Trixie dropped to one knee to fiddle with Max's collar.  Neither girl seemed to want to answer.

"You are checking the ads still, right?" Jim probed.

"When we have time," Trixie answered immediately without looking up from the dog.  "Right, Honey?"

"Yes, of course.  When we have time."  Honey never looked up to see Jim studying the scene with much interest.  He crossed to his computer and punched a few keys.  "You might be interested in a couple of the ads that I highlighted at school today."

"What ads are those, Jim?"

"Trixie," he said with a note of imploring in his voice.  "There are at least six or more ads on the pet finders website in the first two pages that could be Max.  Did you check any of them out today?"

"Uh, well, you see ...." Trixie looked up and saw Jim's honorable eyes demanding a truthful answer.  She sighed.  "I didn't check any of them.  Between classes and my internship, I just didn't have the time to do anything other than take Max for a walk.  I'm sorry, Jim.  You're right.  We are supposed to be finding his owner."

"If he were your dog, you'd want him found."

"But Jim!" Honey cried.  "What if he belongs to that horrible man that Mart and Dan found abusing him?"

"He doesn't," Jim assured her.  "Max's real owner took good care of him.  It's clear from how well-trained he is.  From everything Mart and Dan told me about how Max was acting with that jerk, there's no way he's Max's owner.  He probably found him and then started mistreating him.  It was obvious Max hadn't eaten in a while when they found him."

"We're supposed to be detectives and we can't even find out who this amazing dog belongs too," Trixie said, her voice full of remorse.  "The truth is, we've gotten attached to him and we don't want to find his owner.  We want to keep him."

"And if someone did that with Reddy, how would you have felt?"

"Heartbroken," Trixie answered with a great deal of reluctance.  "We'll get on it tomorrow, Jim.  Promise you won't give up on us yet."

"Never!" he vowed, with a tug of his favorite curl.  "It's easy to see how you can get attached to this little mutt.  He's a very loveable guy.  Aren't you, Max?"  Jim tossed the rubber ball and Max gave a tiny yelp at the sound of his name and made a beeline for the ball.  "That is one smart dog!"

“Where is this mysterious dog?” Diana cried as she pushed her way into Trixie and Honey’s apartment after giving them both hugs.  “I couldn’t wait to get here to meet him.”

Diana attended school at a fashionable liberal arts college in nearby Yonkers.  It was close to her friends, but not close enough to see them as often she would have liked.  Juggling the demands of a senior year was difficult enough without complicating things with frequent trips to the city.  She was however, the first to be finished with exams, over a week earlier than any other Bob-White. 

"He's at Jim's place," Trixie explained.  "I guess you could say he's a multiple-home dog.  We're supposed to go over there later with dinner and bacon."

"Dinner and bacon?  Now that's an interesting combination."  Diana grinned.  "What's up with that?"

"Dinner for us and bacon for Max," Honey explained.   "Max loves bacon.  It's what we've been using to train him."  She stopped and looked almost sheepish for a moment.  "To be fair, it's what Trixie and Jim have been using to train him.  I've been mostly a dog walker."

"That's not true!" Trixie protested loyally.  "You are the only one who's been keeping up with Max's schedule.  Not to mention all the toys you've bought him.  Besides, you have the LSAT to study for in addition to your finals.  I'm the one with Fridays off."

Diana removed her coat and hung it on a nearby coat rack while Trixie explained.  She put her hands on her hips and dismissed their concerns.  "It doesn't matter.  I'm here now and can cover as needed.  What are we supposed to bring for dinner?"

"Not pizza!"  Trixie and Honey answered together.  They looked at each other and laughed.  "We just had pizza," Honey explained.   She waived a hand airily.  "Something comforting.  We'll figure it out.  This is New York.  We can call in an order for almost anything."

Diana smiled.  She missed being with her friends but she wouldn't have given up Sarah Lawrence and her art history program there for anything.  "Great.  Not pizza.  Now tell me the story of the new dog."

Trixie and Honey exchanged knowing looks.  "Well, it was a dark and stormy afternoon ...." Trixie began in her most mysterious voice but they all cracked up.  "Come on, in the kitchen and let's get something to drink."  Trixie grabbled Di's hand.  "It's going to be important you get the full effect of Dan and Mart trying to give Max his first bath.  He still doesn't like them."

"Dan and Mart don't like Max?" Di asked in confusion.

"Nope," Honey clarified, also linking arms with Di.  "Max doesn't like Mart and Dan!"

Trixie looked down where Max stood close to her feet.  She had first seen him on Monday afternoon and now, only a few days later, it felt as if the dog had always been there.  That could explain why taking care of Max had become a higher priority for her than finding Max's owner.  Now they were all—mostly all of them, she quickly amended, mentally allowing for Brian's crazy medical school schedule, together—and it still felt as if Max were her dog.   The table was set for six of them and she put her hands on her hips and studied the setup as if something was wrong.

"Is there a problem?"  Jim asked quietly, circling his arms around her waist and dropping a kiss on top of her head.

"Your table doesn't really seat six," Trixie explained.  "We're going to be crowded."

"Okay, it's not Crabapple Farm with its stretchy walls, but we've had all seven of us here before," he reminded her.   The truth was, Jim loved his home being the city's version of Crabapple farm.  He was the only one with an apartment large enough to come close to holding all seven of the Bob-Whites for a get-together.   If they really needed extra room for something, his parents still had the Penthouse apartment, but all of them preferred Jim's place on the West Side.  It was his first home purchase.  Since he had graduated with his Master's degree over a year earlier and spent a year working full-time on his doctorate, he was ready for real work experience before completing his dissertation.  His father, Matthew Wheeler, had guided him deftly in the ways of New York real estate, and his current apartment was the resultant purchase.  During the past year, with occasional help from his friends, he’d carefully rehabbed the place.  Jim's own woodworking skills had made the place something truly special.  "It's a, uh, stretchy table.  Since when do you have a problem with it being crowded?"

Trixie turned quickly and frowned up at him.  "Did you say it was a problem being crowded?"

Now Jim was really confused.  "No .... I asked why you thought being crammed in here was a problem.  It never has been before."

Trixie snapped her fingers.  "That's it.  That's it exactly.  It was never so crowded before!  Not even at Christmas!"

Jim reached out and tugged a curl.  "Where is that Miss Nonsense of America badge when we need it?" he asked in fond confusion.  "I just said we've had even more than six here before."

"Not here!  At Alex's Jewelry up on the East Side.  It was the most crowded it's ever been, even at Christmas.  One of the witnesses said he even made an announcement asking everyone to please be patient." 

"Okay ...." Jim answered slowly. "I take it this is something to do with your FBI internship?"

"Yes."  She nodded eagerly. "My boss wanted my take on some videos and how the guy got away, and now I think I might have something to tell him tomorrow."

"Can you talk about it?" he asked.  "Might make for an interesting tale at dinner."

"Some," she answered.  "But maybe we should really talk about our case.  The one we all have."

"What case is that?" he asked. 

"Finding out who Max belongs to," she said wistfully, looking down at the pooch beside them.

How to find Max's owner became the topic of a lively debate amongst the Bob-Whites at dinner.  Both Mart and Dan were afraid the brute they had seen with Max would try to claim him.  Both refused to let that happen.  Honey kept reminding them of the gaudy jeweled collar Max had been wearing, the shiny metal leash, and the possibility that he belonged to a little girl.  Diana mostly listened with much interest, and occasionally offered an interesting insight.  Jim was adamant that the best approach was to contact local animal shelters and pet finder web sites with lost dog ads first.  Then there would be time to place an ad of their own.   Trixie was the only Bob-White with little to say. 

"You keep mentioning this ornate collar," Di finally asked.  "Was it really that tacky?"

Dan and Mart hooted.  "For a male dog, it was totally sissy!" Dan insisted. 

"Nothing any self-respecting pooch would be caught dead in," Mart added.

"I think it was meant to be Christmassy," Honey explained.  "Red, White and Green stones, very uh,  glittery."  She shot a look at Trixie, who nodded.

"Even the chain was different," she added.  "Like maybe they tried to gild it or something.  I have to agree with Jim, it did look like something a little girl would put on her dog."

"Not a little girl like Trixie," Mart clarified.  "She once tried to put a bandana on Reddy, that was the extent of her girly-girl days."

"Oh, no ..." Diana wagged a finger and her violet eyes gleamed.  "You forget the famous Thanksgiving and her yen for Ben!" 

"Diana Lynch!" Trixie protested. "I can't believe you even brought that up!"

"It's getting late," Honey interjected.  "We—" she pointed a finger at Trixie and then back to herself to clarify who was covered by the pronoun.  "We have class tomorrow."

The group moved to make sure they had cleaned up after the dinner of southwestern meatloaf, macaroni and cheese and mashed potatoes.  Mart had unashamedly eaten two pieces of the cheesecake Di had insisted on for dessert.   Honey had been on the money when she decreed comfort food was the menu.  As the group began to gather up coats and jackets, and thank Jim for his hospitality, Trixie couldn't locate her handbag.

"Did anyone see my purse?" she announced to the room at large.  "I know I had it when I came in."

"You were carrying the cheesecake box," Mart offered.  "I remember that."

"Yes, and you immediately came and took it from me," she reminded him.  Her hand automatically went to her shoulder where her small bag would have been hanging and she went through the motions of taking it off.  "Then I put it ... "  She stopped and frowned.  "Where did I put my purse?  I usually put it right there on the table by the door."

Max barked and went immediately to the table by the door.  He nosed along the baseboard and barked again.  Trixie looked at Jim and Honey in surprise.  "That's strange.  He doesn't bark very often."

She immediately crossed to where Max was sniffing along the baseboard and realized the dog had located her purse.  She looked at him in amazement.  "You brilliant dog!" she crooned picking him up in her arms and cuddling him.  "You know what my purse is?" 

Max answered with another yelp and nuzzled Trixie's purse when she reached to pull it out from behind the table where it had fallen.

"What's the deal, Trix?" Jim asked.  "Are you keeping dog treats in there for him?"

"Not tonight," she answered with a frown.  "But I have.  Why?"

Jim shrugged.  "Some dogs get used to certain behaviors.  It could be his previous owner kept dog treats for him in her purse."

"You're not kidding," Dan added. "We had a dog case in the academy where a dog had been taught to pick pockets by his trainers.  They kept his dog treats in their pockets."

"For real?" Di asked.  "An honest-to-goodness dog pickpocket?"

"Animals are trained to do lots of things," Jim reminded her.  "Just think of the movies and all the work that goes into training dogs, horses, cats for the movies."

"Yeah, like Toto," Mart added.  "There's no place like home.  Speaking of which ..." he raised an eyebrow.  "I thought that's where we all were heading?"

Trixie frowned.  She wanted to see if she could get Max to find her purse again, but she took a deep breath.  It was Di's first night with them.  They would be up late enough catching up on the gossip without waiting to run pet tricks with Max.

Jim, however, sensed what she wanted.  When she lingered for a personal goodbye he spoke quietly.   "Come over tomorrow and we'll see if we can get him to do it again, okay?  It could be he knows some other tricks.  He is a pretty smart dog."

Jim was not exaggerating.  Max had immediately followed the basic canine instructions for sit, stay, roll over, and speak.  Jim told Trixie the first day he had walked him that Max must have been through some kind of obedience training. 

Trixie nodded.  It was no surprise that Jim knew what she wanted.  "And Trixie," he added as she looked up at him.  "If we find his owner it'll be okay.  None of us are going to let him go back to someone who mistreats him, okay?"

"Thanks, Jim." She gave him a final quick kiss.  "I knew you'd get it."

"Any luck finding the owner of that dog?" Agent Burke asked Trixie when she reported to work on Thursday afternoon. 

"We have a couple of leads," Trixie replied.  "You wouldn't believe how smart that dog is.  We've taught him all kinds of tricks."  She paused and laughed.  "Or maybe we just discovered he knows all kinds of tricks.  Jim thinks he may have been in training with an entertainment animal specialist.  He's really good."

Agent Burke frowned.  "If he's that smart, I wonder how he ended up with the thug that was abusing him?  It seems like if he was any good, his owner would be anxious to locate him.  I understand trainers can make good money with those animals."

"Jim's trying to contact some of the local animal talent agencies," Trixie admitted.  "He really thinks we'll get some leads there.  If that doesn't pan out, then we're still chasing down all the traditional methods:  lost dog ads, pet finders websites and vets.  Our friend is here since her classes are over, so she's helping for a few days."

Burke nodded.  "You almost sound as if you don't really want to find his owner."

Trixie didn't want to think about finding Max's owner, so she quickly changed the subject.  "I have some ideas on the jewelry store heist.  Have any of the jewels turned up?"

"Not yet," he replied. "What's your idea?"

"The jewelry store was crowded that day.  According to the file, at least six different witnesses gave the police statements on just the shooting, and that doesn't count the other customers in the store, right?"

Burke nodded.  "Where you going with this, Belden?"

"The witness statements.  There was one customer, a long-time customer, who made the statement to the police that she had never seen the jewelry store so crowded.  I think some of those customers weren't customers at all.  I think they were there to help with the heist."

"Help with the heist?  Everyone said the gunman acted alone."

"Yes, they did, but he also used the crowd to help facilitate his getaway.  According to the witnesses, after he shot Mr. Newman, he made all but one of them exit the store with him at the same time.  Then the witness stories get wildly divergent.  One witness said he practically pushed her back into the store.  I think at least four of those so-called witnesses were part of the gang.  If you look at the tape, two of them are men and they're carrying large shopping bags."

"Yeah, so?"

"How many times have you gone shopping by yourself and carried a large shopping bag?"

"None that I can remember," he answered truthfully.

"Exactly!"  She beamed at him.  "Men don't shop like that.  They go and buy one thing and come home.  Only women do mass amounts of shopping and carry lots of shopping bags.  I'll bet you a nickel this guy's accomplices made sure he was in the middle of them walking out and he changed his hat and jacket, maybe even put on some sunglasses, all of it as part of the exodus from the store.  That's why none of the other cameras can pick him up.  He changed his clothes.  The old hat and jacket probably went right into one of the shopping bags."

Agent Burke nodded his head slowly and a faint smile emerged on his face.  "I'll get the NYPD to follow up with all the witnesses.  That will tell us pretty quick if you're right about this.  Any witness that was part of the heist probably gave false information to the cops."  He clapped Trixie on the shoulder.  "We don't have final exams in the intern program, but if we did, you just aced yours!"

"No luck, huh?" Jim asked as he answered the door.  Trixie and Honey were both standing there, Max between them.

Honey shook her head.  "Six more lost dog ads down, a bazillion to go."  She flopped onto Jim's comfortable couch.  "There's no way either of us can look any more this weekend.  Our exams start on Tuesday and we need tomorrow and Monday to study and review."

"Not to mention, Christmas shopping, attending the holiday party at the Bureau, and making sure we have everything ready for next semester before we go back to Sleepyside," Trixie added glumly.  She stopped only to remove Max's leash before she dropped next to Honey on Jim's couch.

"What happened to your helpers?" He looked back and forth between the girls.  "Remember, Mart and Dan?  I thought Diana was helping too."

"Diana went back to Sleepyside.  She found out her Mom's got a terrible cold, maybe even the flu, and she can help by driving the twins to all their activities." Honey informed him.

"That is probably more important than finding Max a home," Trixie added.  She gave a small smile as Max gave his typical yelp and jumped up next to her when she said his name.  She fondly rubbed his head and pulled him onto her lap.  "Personally, I'd just say to heck with it, and keep him."

"Why don't we just keep him?" Honey said.  "It's fine with me."

Jim looked helplessly at the two girls and waited for them to come to the right answer on their own.  They didn't disappoint.

Trixie sighed.  "I keep seeing Bobby at the age of six, upset like anything when Reddy was missing.  We have to keep looking."

"You never did say why Dan and Mart weren't helping look for Max's owner." 

Trixie turned and looked back at Honey who gave a reassuring nod.  "They took our shift ringing the bells for the Salvation Army and let us keep looking.  We both think they don't want to find Max's owner, either.  Dan suggested we that he would be better off with Mr. Maypenny or Regan.  He offered to talk to both of them about taking him."

"Well, we'll figure it out," Honey said brightly.  "We're not heading back to Sleepyside until a few days after exams anyway.  We'll have some time to keep looking then.  Besides, Trixie, wasn't there something important you were going to ask Jim?"  Honey gave her a pointed look, reminding her of the real reason Trixie didn't plan to go back to Sleepyside immediately after exams.

"Oh!"  Trixie flushed a little. "The holiday party.  I found out Thursday when I left work that we sorta, well, ...." she paused and took a deep breath.  "The FBI always has a holiday party this month, and they do a big splash and invite all the interns, even the ones that graduated already.  But it's one of those things where most people bring a date."  She paused and looked at Jim expectantly.

His green eyes twinkled, knowing what she was getting at, but he said nothing. 

"I knew you'd make me say it," she muttered.  She took a quick breath and the words came out quickly.  "Will you got with me to the FBI Holiday party?"

"Sure I will," he answered promptly. "When is it?"

She gave him the details and he nodded. "That sounds like fun.  What do I wear?"

Trixie blanked.  She hadn't thought to ask that question.  "I'll get back at you about that," she promised.  "I'm not sure."

Honey smiled knowingly to herself as she watched the exchange with immense satisfaction.

"That'll work," Jim smiled fondly and gave Trixie's curl a tug.  "Now, where are we going for dinner?"

"We can't stay," Trixie said regretfully.  "We've got to get started on our studying.  If we can get some done tonight, we can check out a couple more ads tomorrow afternoon."  She paused and shot her roommate an apologetic look.  Honey's load was much heavier this semester, since she didn't have an internship. Honey's plans to go to law school meant Trixie would join one of the federal agencies after graduation.  She was currently hopeful for a job offer from the FBI at graduation.  "At least it will let me do some more investigating.  Honey has to study all day.  She has more exams this term than I have.  Thank heavens the internship doesn't have anything but a paper, and I've already finished it.  Agent Burke pretty much told me that I didn't have anything to worry about."

"Will you be back with him next semester?" Jim asked.

Trixie shrugged.  "To be honest, I'm not sure.  I hope so, but for now, I'm not going to worry about it.  After the party next weekend, I'm ready to be home for three weeks.  Most of the Bob-Whites will be there for at least a week."

"I can't wait either," Honey interjected.  "That will be the longest we've all been back home together in just about forever.  I for one am looking forward to an honest-to-goodness Bob-White meeting and Christmas party."

Jim grinned.  "Count me in among those looking forward to a break.  Teaching definitely has its advantages when it comes to the holidays.  Is there anything I can do?"

"Just keep taking care of Max for us," Trixie rubbed the dog's head.  "He's such a smart dog.  I'm sure going to miss him when we find his owner."

"If you want me to help you look for a while tomorrow afternoon, just let me know," Jim offered.  "I have lesson plans to work on, but I'm sure I'll be wanting a break myself by the afternoon.  Especially if this weather holds."  Trixie and Honey had both remarked earlier how much they appreciated the milder cold temperature hovering just above the freezing mark.  New York City in December was as unpredictable as it could get. 

"I'll do that," Trixie acknowledged.  "Who knows, maybe tomorrow will be our lucky day."

Mart and Dan had complained bitterly about the irony of trying to find the man who had left Max in the alley, but despite Trixie and Honey's impression, they had continued to look.  It was Mart who found the ad on a pet finders web site.

"Listen to this," he said to Dan, reading from the website.  "Lost near Bryant Park.  Small mixed breed terrier dog.  Well-behaved and trained.  Wearing jeweled collar.   $1000 reward."

"That's a pretty hefty reward," Dan answered, frowning.  "If the guy we saw has that kind of money, I'm willing to bet he stole it.  He probably stole the dog as well."

"Why would someone steal a dog and then abuse it?" Mart asked.  "Do you think we should call Trixie and let her know?"

"Give me the number," Dan answered. "I'll call it and see if there's a chance it's the same dog before  we call her."

Mart rattled off the number while Dan entered the digits into his cell phone.  He waited on a few seconds before the call was answered.  As he explained why he was calling, Mart was surprised to realize Dan was talking to a woman and not a man.  His heart sank at Dan's next words.  "It sure sounds like the dog we found.  Is there some place we can meet you?"

Dan had to explain to the caller that it would take some time for them to retrieve the dog and meet the woman.  He looked confused as he disconnected the call.

"It's Max?" he asked.

"Sounds like it," Dan answered. "From the way she described him it could be.  She even described the collar and leash."

"What about the guy we saw him with?" Mart answered.  "Is he her husband or boyfriend or something?"

"She said he was lost when he was out with the dog walker," Dan explained.

"The dog walker!" Mart exploded. "That thug was no more a dog walker than I you or me."

"It could be he found it after it got away from the dog walker," Dan offered.  "She said it's been missing since the day after Thanksgiving."  He began to press the numbers into the phone.  "I'll call Trixie.  You call Jim.  I told the woman we needed some time to get up with the people who were taking care of the dog for us."

After no small amount of arguing, the four of them agreed to meet at DeWitt-Clinton Park.  Trixie had argued vehemently for Riverside Park with its larger dog run, while Dan pushed for Bryant Park.  It took all the powers of persuasion Dan could muster to convince her a location closer to where Max had been found was more reasonable, and they compromised on DeWitt-Clinton Park.  Since it was on his way, Jim planned to stop by Trixie's apartment and the two would meet Mart and Dan at the park.  Dan and Mart both insisted they wanted assurance that the animal abuser was not the woman's dog walker before they returned Max to her. 

It took Jim and Trixie almost no time to make it to the Park and the appointed meeting place.  They had the advantage of the park's location on the West side, not far from Jim’s apartment.  The brisk air, and Max's eagerness for a walk, had them both walking at a vigorous pace.  Jim looked at his watch.  "We're early," he remarked as he led Max over to a grassy area of the park marked for pet use.   He unclipped the leash and let Max run in the designated area.  There were several other dogs there, all of which Max checked out eagerly and without any problems. 

"He even gets along with other dogs," Trixie remarked as they watched him frolic in the brown grass. 

"He gets along with everyone," Jim reminded her.  "He even likes Mart and Dan now, thanks to your idea with the bacon."

"Max does love his bacon," Trixie smiled.  She blinked her eyes, unable to stop the sudden moisture she hadn't expected.  "It sure sounds like this woman is his owner."

Jim knowingly reached for her hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze.  "It'll be okay, Trix.  You just want whatever is best for Max."

Trixie nodded and they watched Max play in silence until they were approached by a tall, brown-haired woman wearing a navy colored trench coat and a Burberry plaid scarf.  "I'm supposed to be meeting some people here who may have found my dog," she said tentatively.  "By any chance are you Dan?"

Jim grinned.  "He's not here yet, but we're the people you're looking for."  He held out his hand in greeting.  "I'm Jim Frayne and this is my friend Trixie.  Our friends are the ones who found the dog."

"Oh, I'm just so relieved you've found him!" she gave a small smile.  "Where is he?"  She stood on her tiptoes and looked over them trying to catch a glimpse of her dog. 

The woman frowned and pointed towards Max. "That's him, but that's not his collar."  She glanced down at the blue plastic leash Trixie was holding.  That's not his leash either.  What did you do with them?"  Both Jim and Trixie were taken aback by her harsh tone of voice.

"They weren't exactly dog friendly pet equipment," Jim tried to explain but was interrupted before he could tell the woman they had the items in question.

"Those are just as important to me as the dog," she told, him her voice rising.  "What did you do with them?" 

Trixie took over, gently stepping on Jim's toes to warn him not to say she had the items.  "We didn't actually find your dog.  Our friends did.  Why don't we wait for them to show up and we can get this resolved about the collar and the leash."

"This is Dan?" she asked, pushing her hands nervously into the pocket of her coat.

"Yes, Dan.  He'll be able to help us figure it out.  He's a police officer," Trixie said her voice full of mock innocence.

"I see," the woman said.  "I guess I'll just go play with the dog while I wait."  She quickly walked into the dog run area and kept walking until she was out of sight.

"She's not coming back," Trixie said watching as she disappeared behind a clump of dog friendly shrubbery.  "Call Dan and have him meet us somewhere.  We need to make sure we're not being followed."

It took one call and a Bob-White whistle for Max to run back to where Trixie and Jim were waiting.  "Is she watching?" Trixie asked anxiously as she knelt to grab Max's collar and take the leash from Jim.

"No." Jim stopped as he reached Dan and tried to explain what had happened.  He listened as Dan gave him instructions.  "Yes, there are a lot of people here," he answered.  "Okay, got it."  He snapped the flip phone shut and shook his head at Trixie.  "He wants us to wait for him.  They're less than five minutes away."

"What's he going to do when he gets here?" Trixie asked.

"I don't know," Jim answered.  "Maybe he plans to haul her in for questioning on a dog napping charge."

Trixie ended up forgoing any studying the rest of the evening, as they all met up over an hour later at Jim's apartment.  Jim and Trixie split up, with Dan and Trixie taking Max on a circuitous route back to the apartment.  Jim and Mart went to pick up Honey so she wouldn't be alone and miss the excitement.  They also brought the mysterious chain and collar.  "Did you see her?" Mart asked as he opened the door to let them in Jim's apartment.

"Is Jim okay?" Trixie asked the question as she opened the door to let them in the apartment.

"Well, gleeps, Sis.  It's good to see you, too!" Mart quipped with a role of his eyes. 

"Something strange is going on with this dog," Jim replied coming up behind Mart.  "Of course, I'm okay.  We have the collar and leash, but they don't seem unusual to us."

"I'm telling you guys, those are nothing more than colored glass stones," Honey vowed.  "The setting is light-weight, thin metal.  It's not a missing jewel or anything."

"Maybe I could get someone in CSI to check it out thoroughly, just to be sure," Dan interjected.  "But if Honey says it's not real, then I'm sure she's right." he added quickly.

"That doesn't mean there's not something else she needs from the collar.  Maybe it's a messaging system.  They insert secret messages in the dog's collars and stop and retrieve them when they are out with their dog walkers."  Mart grinned.

"Maybe it has the secret launch codes for nuclear missiles," Dan replied dryly.

Trixie rolled her eyes but before she could say anything, Jim interjected.  "It's as good a theory as any right now," he said with a warning look at Trixie not to start anything with her almost-twin.  "I've ordered us some pizza.  We can eat our pies and then we’ll walk Honey and Trixie home so they can study.  Agreed?"

They all nodded.  "Unless anyone objects, I'm going to take this mysterious dog collar with me to work."  Dan paused and lifted a questioning brow at Trixie.  "Perhaps you'd rather take it into the FBI."

Trixie shook her head.  "They have their share of unusual cases, but so far, nothing in the dog-napping area has crossed my desk.  If they want our help, they only have to ask." 

As they waited for pizza the collar was passed around and examined thoroughly.  Jim even dug out a magnifying glass that they used, to no avail.  Finally, as the hour grew later and even the pizza crusts had been consumed, the group admitted defeat.  "Go ahead and take the collar with you, Dan." Trixie told him.  "Hopefully, your crime scene techs can figure something out.   Do you have the woman's phone number?"

"Yeah," Dan dug out his cell phone and looked at his call history before rattling the number off to Trixie. 

"Did she ever tell you her name?" Jim asked.  "She never did give me her name when I introduced myself."

"Yeah, she did," Dan replied. "Karen.  Karen Spencer."

Trixie thought carefully.  "That name doesn't ring any bells."

"Do you think I should run it for outstanding warrants?" he asked, looking at the group.

"It wouldn't hurt," Trixie admitted.  "But I don't think you're going to find anything.  She wouldn't have given you her name if there was anything outstanding on her."

"All right, then.  I'll let you know. You girls ready to get back to your studying?  Maybe we'll have something to report tomorrow."  Dan moved towards the door after pocketing the dog's collar, with Mart and Honey close behind him.  "Jim, you and Trixie coming?" he asked as the two of them clearly hung back.

"We'll be right behind you.  We're going to bring Max with us for one final walk tonight."

Dan choked back a laugh as he nodded and proceeded to the hallway where he let out a guffaw.  "One more walk," he mimicked.  "So that's what he's calling it these days!"

"Dude!" Mart complained through clenched teeth, "You're talking about my sister."

"Dude, yourself," Dan shot back. "Way past time for you to be over that.  Where have you been the last eight years?" 

"In denial," he answered. "And I'm planning to stay that way a little longer, so just humor me.  They're going to walk the dog, nothing else."

Dan shook his head.  "Whatever."

Even with Dan's contacts rushing the job, they were still waiting to hear back from the New York PD forensics lab when Trixie reported in on Tuesday afternoon for her last week at the FBI intern program.  Dan hadn't found any outstanding warrants for Karen Spencer.  When Trixie broached the subject of tracing the phone number with Agent Burke, he quizzed her at length about their encounter in the park with Max's alleged owner.  Permission was granted to run the phone number, but he seemed baffled when Trixie confirmed the collar was an inexpensive novelty item.  "You might be out of luck with your dog, but you hit a home run with the jewelry store heist."

"For real?" Trixie asked excitedly.

"NYPD has at least three of the so-called customers at the time of the murder who haven't checked out with the contact information they provided.  They're working to track them down and expect to bring in at least one of them at any time.  You were right on target with your assessment of that crowd."

"That's fantastic, sir," Trixie replied, forcing her voice to remain calm.  "Is there any motive known?"

"Seems they might have found something on that as well.  While Alexander Newman may have been a beloved member of the community, it appears he was broke.  He apparently sunk all of his cash into some new jewelry line or something.  His wife wasn't sure, but she said he was excited about it and felt it was a sure thing.  In the meantime, she's going to have to live on whatever they can liquidate from the jewelry store."

"What happens now that he's dead?" Trixie wondered.

"His wife inherited the business, but there's not much left of it. He left some sizeable bequests to his niece and nephew, but I'm not sure how that will work if the estate doesn't have the money."

Trixie frowned.  "The niece lives out of town and I thought the nephew had an alibi.  I remember reading it in the file."

"He does.  A tight one.  Too tight if you know what I mean.  He was working at his office that Friday morning."

Trixie knew she was supposed to get something from that.  "Was it unusual for him to be at the office?"

"Friday was a company holiday.   His colleagues and boss can confirm his presence, as well as security tapes and electronic transmissions, but not a one of them can tell us why he was working on a company holiday."

Trixie gave a low whistle.  "He made sure he had an alibi because he knew what was going down."

"You got it!" Agent Burke smiled. "Which brings me to the next order of business.  You'll be back with the intern program next semester, correct?"

"Yes, that's my understanding of how the Criminology internship works," Trixie answered.  "I wasn't sure if I'd be assigned to you still, or if I'd get a new assignment."

"We've requested you stay with us," Burke advised.  "What else do you have to take to graduate?"

"Mostly electives," Trixie told him. "All the required courses are done, or they will be done," she quickly corrected, "after the end of this week, except for one more PE credit.  That was easy to save until the end." 

"And what are your plans after graduation?" 

"I'm planning on applying to the FBI," she said.  "That was the reason I was so happy to get this internship, especially working in white-collar crimes.  To be honest with you, I'm not as interested in some areas of the Bureau.  One of my professors thinks that I should consider Homeland Security and think about a job in customs and border patrol.  But that would definitely mean leaving New York."

"Have you ever considered staying in school, going to graduate school?"

Trixie laughed.  "No, can't say that I have.  School's never been my thing.  Although I have to admit the program at John Jay is awesome."

"What if graduate school included a 12-week internship at FLETC?" he asked, leaning forward in the chair in her cubicle.

"What?" she asked in surprise. "Don't most agencies send you to FLETC once you're hired?"

"Yes, but they also have a student internship program for graduate and undergraduate programs.  John Jay doesn't send many students there in the undergraduate program simply because the closest facility to New York is in Maryland.  The main campus is in Georgia.  We'd love to write a letter of recommendation for you to be one of the graduate student applicants."

"Is it a paid internship?" she asked.

"No.  The FBI has cancelled our paid internship program for the foreseeable future.  But they give you a place to stay and a daily living allowance of around fifty bucks.  You won't be out anything but your summer and whatever it costs you to get down there.  When you get out at the end of the summer you'll be halfway through graduate school.  It sure would give you a leg up in choosing where you might be assigned if you pick the FBI.  I'd recommend you consider it.  You'd be a real asset to the White Collar Crimes Division.  Get your graduate degree and I'll do everything I can to hire you."

"For real?" Trixie asked.  She couldn’t believe he was offering her the opportunity of her dreams.

"Yeah, for real.  Now," he rose from the chair and nodded to the stack of folders on the corner of her desk.  "Take a second look at those and see if you have any ideas."

"What are they, sir?"

"A couple of files you input last week.  I'm hoping you might have an idea on where we can look next.  They both need a fresh approach."

"Sure!"  Eagerly she picked up the files and started her review.

"Oh, and Belden?"  he turned back to her as he remembered something else.  "Let me know what you find out about the trace on that phone number.  I've got a funny feeling about your dog."

Trixie groaned as she collapsed on the small sofa in the apartment she shared with Honey.  "I'm glad that one's over.  Now I only have to worry about our Criminology exam and one last day with the intern program."

"How was your exam?" Honey asked, looking up from her own notes.

"Not too bad," Trixie replied. "I just need to get a solid B to maintain my GPA. What about your two?"

"One was a killer, the other —" she shrugged. "It wasn't too bad either.  Any ideas on tomorrow's exam?"

"Not really." Trixie stretched for her backpack, pulled out her notebook and began to flip through it.  "The Fonz isn't big on surprises.  As long as we review the notes, we should be fine."

"Yeah, I'm not worried about it.  It's this ridiculous Utopian Thought course.  We have to be prepared to discuss justice and the law all the way back to Plato's Republic." Honey sighed and put her head down on her arms.  "Just think, this time next week it will all be over."  She pulled her head up and looked at Trixie.  "Did you find anything out about the phone number?" she asked.

"Nothing," Trixie answered. "It's a burn phone.  Paid for with cash.  If we wanted we could track it to the store where it was purchased and look at security tapes but what's the point?  I already know what Karen Spencer looks like."

"Dan called,” Honey told her.  “He got the report back from his lab.  There's nothing unusual about the collar.  He has the manufacturer and a list of stores where it was sold and stocked, but they normally sell quite a few of that particular model this time of year.  He said to tell you he'd email it to you in case you wanted to look at it yourself."

Trixie nodded.  "I'll take a look at it after tomorrow's exam.  Maybe the collar is just a coincidence."

"Don't forget rule number 39," Honey reminded her. 

Trixie laughed as the two friends recalled their favorite television show.  They chorused together.  "There's no such thing as coincidence!"

"You're right.  I'll definitely look at it tomorrow.  Something is going on, we just have to figure out what!"

"Did you talk to Jim today?" Honey asked as she looked glumly at the textbook in her lap.  She was clearly trying to postpone the moment of studying. 

"No, this is his late night at school."  She looked across the room at the clock.  "Maybe we should call and check on Max.  Neither of us was able to help out today and Jim still has classes to teach all week."

"He has Mart, Dan and Brian to help him," Honey reminded her yet again.  "Quit worrying about it.  We'll have all the time we need after our exams are over to find his real owner."

Trixie put the phone down reluctantly. "I guess you're right.  If Jim needed us, he'd call."

"Jim wants nothing more than for you to call," Honey said pointedly.  "When are you going to let him know about that Christmas Party?"

"Oh!  You're right.  I’d better call. It's holiday attire.  Do you know what that means?"  Trixie grabbed her cell phone and started punching numbers.

"Yes.  It won't be any problem for Jim, but you're not going to like it." Honey grinned.

Trixie groaned.  "I'm going to have to wear a dress."

Honey was patiently working through the exam questions; the only sounds in the room were the noises associated with sixteen students quickly scrawling answers to questions on their exam.  A sporadic cough and the rustle of paper punctuated the near silence.  The Fonz set in the front of the room, intermittently standing up to walk between the desks, making sure he wasn't needed.  He wasn't concerned about cheating.  He felt he knew these students particularly well. 

Next to Trixie, one of her classmates nervously wrote and fingered a silver-toned chain around her neck, touching the various beads and charms attached to it as she wrote.  Trixie paid little attention to the girl until the sound of beads clacking against the desk and floor disturbed the silence of the room.

The expletive that followed was expected and excused as the girl’s necklace flew apart.  The students around her paused and, after a confirming nod from their professor, helped her to gather miscellaneous beads and charms. 

Trixie retrieved the chain from the floor, along with four beads and a charm.  She handed them to the girl, who quietly thanked her.  "I should've been more careful with my dog chain," she explained.  "I should've realized."

"Your chain ..." Trixie stammered. 

"My necklace," she clarified. "It's just something I made, but you use really inexpensive dog chain to make it."

Trixie nodded and returned to her seat, but she couldn't focus on the exam.  They had examined Max's collar, but not the chain.  Alexander Newman was a jeweler, and jewelers worked with metals as much as gemstones.  Finally, unable to stand it, Trixie made her way to the front of the class and asked her professor if she could speak with him.  Together, they walked to the doorway of the classroom and in low tones Trixie tried to explain her concern and her need to call Agent Burke.

"Let me get this right," the Professor finally interrupted.  "You want permission to call your mentor with the internship program to tell him you've solved the jewelry store heist?"

"Yes, I think so," Trixie replied.

"Okay.  I'll give you your cell phone and you can dial the number.  But I'm going to confirm it's him and explain you're in the middle of your final exam.  I'm going to trust this isn't some ruse, Belden, an innovative way to cheat."

"I promise it's not," Trixie breathed excitedly.  "I'll stand right outside your door.  You can listen to the entire conversation.  I'll put you on speaker."

Trixie dialed the number and reaching Agent Burke handed the phone to her professor, who outlined the situation with amazing brevity.  He handed the phone back.  "He says I'm not to give you any extra time to complete your final."

Trixie grinned and took the phone. "Agent Burke?  Do you think you can get your forensics analyst to take a look at Max's dog leash?  I have a feeling that we might be surprised with what we find."

A few more questions on where Trixie had left the leash in her cubicle and a promise to arrive early for the internship followed before Trixie disconnected the call.  She handed her phone back to the Fonz.  "Thanks, Professor.  Is it okay for me to finish the exam?"

"Yes, on one condition," he held up a finger in caution.

"Yes, sir.  What's that?"

"You promise you're going to let me know how this turns out.  I don't want an email either.  I want a firsthand report."

"Yes, sir.  I promise."

"You want me to bring a dog to the FBI building?" Trixie asked in disbelief.  She had called her mentor immediately upon finishing her exam.  She’d paused for only one thing—to update a curious and waiting Honey Wheeler on the inspiration she’d had during the exam, and what had prompted it.

"Yes, and make sure you're dressed for field work," he instructed.  "No skirts."

Trixie started to ask him when he'd ever seen her in a skirt, but remembered her first week in the program she had worn dark suits to the office.   Her only remaining detour was stopping by Jim's apartment to pick up Max.

Agent Burke had already cleared the dog's arrival with security, so that when she swiped in with her credentials she was waved through as though nothing unusual was going on.  "I guess they've seen it all," she muttered as Max dutifully followed her onto the elevator, behaving as if visiting the FBI was something he did as a matter of routine.

When Trixie entered the office bay assigned to Burke and his team, she was pleased to find Dan there, waiting outside Neil Burke's office.  He gave her a cocky grin.

"You and Max have found yourselves a real mystery, huh?" 

She smiled.  "One too many coincidences," she replied.  "Were you able to bring the report on the crime tech's analysis of the collar?"

"Yeah, your boss has already handed it and the collar off to his own team.  We're just waiting on them to come back with an answer.  Apparently, his tech knows the person at NYPD who did the analysis and thinks it will be quick."  Dan looked around the area.  "The feds sure have nicer offices than the city," he remarked.

"Thinking of making a switch?" she asked, curious if Dan had considered the FBI.

"Not a chance," he replied instantly.  "I'm exactly where I want to be."

Further discussion was preempted by the arrival of the forensic specialist, Bill Bass, to Agent Burke's office.  To Trixie's dismay, the specialist had found nothing unusual about Max's original collar.

"You're sure about this?" Agent Burke asked the elderly curmudgeon who had worked with him for years.

"Positive.  Not only do I trust the analysis Dr. Pollock did over at the city lab, there's just nothing here.  This is a typical, inexpensive holiday dog collar." Dr. Bass handed the collar over to Agent Burke.  "But the leash, now that's where things get interesting."

"Explain," Burke demanded.

Trixie and Dan felt the excitement as the forensic analyst explained the composite nature of the metal, declaring it to be a unique "recipe" for metallurgy and something that was sure to be in hot demand.  "Someone is going to make a killing off this patent," he finished his explanation.  "The sheer conductive nature of the metal for use in the power grid is going to be amazing."

"The power grid?" Trixie squeaked.  "Did you say the power grid?"

"Yes, why?"  Dr. Bass looked at her in confusion.

"The case file, sir.  The other one you gave me about the electricity thieves.  They could detect the loss of surge in the grid sir, but they couldn't figure out how it was happening."

"I'm not following you, Belden," Burke frowned. 

"If this metal leash has special properties conducive to maximizing electrical power usage, it could be part of that case.  You had me input it last week, the same day that I did the Alex Jeweler's file.  This leash must have something to do with it."

FBI Special Agent Burke turned to Officer Dan Mangan.  "Looks like we're going to need one more thing from you."

"Certainly, sir.  What is it?"

"How about giving a description to our sketch artist of the guy that had this dog?  Right now, he's a missing link in all of this."

Later when she and Dan explained what had happened to the rest of the Bob-Whites, Trixie was amazed at how quickly the events unfolded that afternoon.  The examination of the electricity case file in conjunction with the Alex Jewelry heist yielded little more than a gut feeling among them all that the two were connected.  It wasn't until the artist's sketch had been completed and distributed that it was certain Max was connected to the  case.  Trixie immediately recognized the sketch as one of the customers from the jewelry store heist. 

Agent Burke moved faster than Trixie had ever seen him move.  The team of agents under his supervision came together in such an orchestrated process that Trixie felt as if she were watching a professional ballet.  Each of them instinctively seemed to know what they should do and their role in this investigation.  A conference call with the NYPD detectives assigned to the case permitted Dan's continued involvement.

"You ready for some field work, Belden?" Agent Burke grinned at his protégée, knowing she was.  

"For real?" She couldn’t believe her ears.  "Honest to goodness, field work?"

"For real," he confirmed. "We're going to need the dog as well."

"Where are we going?" she asked

"To find out if Alexander Newman had a dog," Agent Burke replied.

It was the first time for both Trixie and Dan to be in the back of an FBI surveillance van.  It appeared to be an ordinary ConEd utility van, complete with the logo and communication devices.  If they were by chance hailed by another utility company van, they had exactly the right responses ready.

"Why aren't you just going to ask his wife?" Trixie inquired.

"Because I'm not sure if she's involved," he said.  "There's also a chance the nephew could be there."

Trixie thought hard.  "I could ask the doorman," she suggested.  "What if I just walked up there with Max and asked him if he recognizes the dog.  He'll either think I'm nuts, or he'll start talking."

Agent Burke had planned a different approach, but he gave Trixie's suggestion careful consideration.  "Okay, but someone's going with you," he said. 

"Can I volunteer, sir?" Dan asked.  "I've been in this since the beginning.  I know that I'm just a rookie cop, but I think I can manage not to blow it."

"Okay, but you're going to follow my instructions and both of you are going to wear these earpieces.  Understood?"

Trixie was elated. She agreed and with the correct instructions, she and Dan were dropped out of sight from the Newman's apartment building.  They came around the corner, and approached the door of the building.  It turned out to be the easiest questioning either of them would ever be involved in during their respective careers.

"Why that looks just like the Newmans' dog," the doorman said as the approached the front door.  "You wouldn't happen to have found old Maxwell, would you?"

At the mention of his name, Max gave a short bark and happily wagged his tail.

"It is Maxwell," the doorman said.  "Well if that don't beat all!  We'd figured he was gone for good.  Where did you find him?"

"It was down closer to midtown," Dan answered.  "Are the Newmans home?"

The doorman frowned and looked up at the front of the building.  "You might not realize, but Mr. Newman was killed a few weeks ago.  Shot down in cold blood while working in his store.  That's when the dog went missing.  Best anyone could tell, Max got out during the robbery."

"I see," Dan replied.  "Is Mrs. Newman home, then?"

He shook his head.  "Sorry, but that niece and nephew of theirs are trying to move her out, saying she's not competent and what have you.  She's gone to stay with her sister for a few days.  But say, they'll probably be excited you've found him.  They've been looking for him day and night."

"A family of real dog lovers, huh?" Trixie asked casually.

"Not Mrs. Newman," he said. "The dogs were always Mr. Newman's thing.  He trained more than a few mutts over the years.  All of them named after characters from the television series Get Smart.  The first one was named Fang."

"Are that niece and nephew you mentioned around?" Dan asked.

"No, not at the moment.  The niece stops by each day to pick up the mail and check on things.  She'll be along any minute."

"Did anyone ever run an ad for the dog?" she asked.

"You betcha, but they haven't had any luck.  They offered a reward and everything.  Say, how about I give her a call?  I've got her number back at the desk."  He really didn't give either of them a chance to answer before he pushed into the lobby to make the call. 

"What now?" Trixie asked, not just to Dan but to Agent Burke who she knew was listening. 

"Just hang loose," Agent Burke instructed her.  "But don't go inside, stay outside."

Trixie and Dan walked the dog in front of the apartment as they waited for the doorman to return.  He wasn't long.  "Great news, Mrs. Kelly will be right here.  She was already on her way.  You don't mind waiting do you?  She said she'd make it worth your while."

They agreed to wait and weren't disappointed when she arrived shortly.  Trixie had been apprehensive, almost expecting the same lady who had met her and Jim in the park, but was relieved when it wasn't the same lady at all.  She introduced herself as Janice Kelly.

"Oh!  You found him!"  The woman clapped her hands together in surprise and knelt down to embrace the dog.  Much to Trixie's dismay, it was obvious she recognized Max and it was just as obvious that Max knew her.  "We were so worried about him.  Aunt Rita's never been Maxwell's biggest fan, but she sure didn't want anything to happen to him.  She's going to be so relieved to know that he's been found."

"Excuse me for interrupting the dog reunion, but is your aunt here?" Agent Burke joined them in front of the apartment.  He pulled out his credentials and identified himself, Trixie, and Dan.  "We have a photo we'd like to show her."

The addition of an FBI agent and New York police officer seemed to rattle the woman.  She once again introduced herself as Marguerite Newman's niece, Janice Kelly and invited them into the apartment.  "That's not necessary," Burke replied. 

"Perhaps you can help," Trixie interjected.  Her eagerness won out over the patience she had been faithfully employing since they embarked on the field work.  She failed to follow Agent Burke's lead.  "Do you know this man?"  She held out the photo from the security cameras.

"Why, yes!" Janice said immediately.  "Of course, I do.  That's my brother Harry's friend.  His name is Junior.  Well, Junior is his nickname, his real name is Jerry, Jerry Pellicci."  She looked back and forth between the trio.  "Why?"

"We identified him as being in the store on the day of the murder," Agent Burke replied.  "For some reason, the police failed to get his information.  We were hoping to follow up with him on some questions."

"Junior was there when Uncle Alex was murdered?" she asked in disbelief.  "I think that Harry would've said something about that."

"Junior may not realize that Mr. Newman was your Uncle," Trixie offered.

She nodded slowly as if trying to understand how that could be the case.  She finally spoke.  "You are going to leave Maxwell with me, aren't' you?"

Trixie looked down in a vain attempt to hide the disappointment on her face. 

"If you don't mind," Agent Burke interjected.  "We'd like to keep him for a few more days.  We think he has something to tell us about the case."

Trixie breathed a sigh of relief. "Could you tell us how Max came to be missing?"

"He was at the store that day, waiting for the dog walker to pick him up," she said.  Somehow in the confusion of everything that transpired, he got out.  We're not sure how, since he was in a room in the back."

"Can you tell us anything about this dog collar?" Agent Burke asked.  "I believe he was wearing it when he was found."

Janice smiled.  "That's my aunt's doing.  She thought it was good advertising to have Max wear jewelry.  It's not real, of course, but it was fun.  She was right, though.  After the customers saw Max wearing one, they wanted to buy them as well, so Uncle Alex started stocking them.  He gave Max a shiny chain leash to match his collar."

"Thanks for your help, Ms. Kelly."  Agent Burke stood up.  "Do we have your permission to keep the dog for a few more days?  We promise he'll be well cared for." 

"Yes, of course."  She brushed the moisture away from her eyes.  "Anything to catch the men who did this.  By the way, if you have the leash, we'd like to have it back since it was the last thing that my uncle made before he was killed."

"Of course, we'll bring it when we return the dog.   If you think of anything else, please give me a call."  Agent Burke handed her his card and nodded at Trixie and Dan.  They turned to leave at his signal. 

By mutual agreement the three of them remained silent as they walked back to where the rest of the team waited.  "So what do you think?" Agent Burke finally asked her when they climbed into the van.  "Should we put out an APB on the Jerry Pellicci, what would you do next?"

Trixie shook her head and smiled at her mentor.  "I'd get a warrant to tap her phone.  She's going to call her brother.  It's clear they're in this together."

Agent Burke threw back his head and gave a hearty laugh.  "Belden, you're going to be one hell of an agent.  Nothing gets by you."  He turned to his team and asked them.  "Did you pick up on it?"

The two agents who had been monitoring the conversation exchanged puzzled looks.  "Do you mean when she asked for the leash?"  the female agent asked.

Trixie grinned.  "No, she blew it when she said she'd do anything to catch the men who did this.  No one but the police and the FBI know there was a team working the robbery."

The next few days were enlightening for Trixie as she did some basic grunt work, but mostly watched as the police and FBI arrested Janice Kelly, her brother Harry, Jerry Pellicci and a host of others.  They also recovered the stolen jewels.  The only criminal targeted they weren't able to locate was the actual gunman.  He seemed to have disappeared.

"But that happens sometimes with hired killers," Trixie explained to Jim as he whirled her around the dance floor at the FBI Holiday Party.  Her sparkling blue dress swirled as the two of them finished the dance.  Jim had been as fascinated with the final resolution of the case as the rest of the Bob-Whites.  Like Trixie, Dan had been thrilled to be assigned some minor work in support of the case.  It had given him much needed closure to be part of the team that brought in Jerry Pellicci, the thug that he had caught abusing Max.  Brian had summed it up best when he said only Trixie could turn an innocent event like helping an abused animal into a murder-for-hire scheme disguised as a jewelry heist.

"So explain to me again, how you knew it was Janice Kelly," Jim complained as the song ended and they headed toward the refreshment table.  "What gave her away?"

"When we asked to keep the dog for a few more days, she said she was fine with it.  Anything to help catch the men who did this.  At that time no one but the police suspected that this was more than a one-man operation.   The press and everyone else were told it was the act of a single gunman, something that was supported by all the witness statements.  The only way she could have known, was if she'd been involved."

"That's it?" Jim asked in disbelief.  "You and Agent Burke both caught that."

She grinned.  "But when she asked about the leash, I knew.  We'd already determined that the collar was just a holiday trinket, but we didn't look at the leash very closely at all.  The leash is what she wanted."

"Because it was gold or platinum or something?" he asked.

"No because it was a special metal that Alex Newman was working on.  He was working on a new metal, something to help with energy.   That's when I remembered the electricity case I had input for the FBI the same day as the jewelry store heist.  That's how the woman in the park that day was involved.  She's been arrested in connection with that scheme.  They were using the metal Mr. Newman invented to make miniature induction coils to steal electricity.  Because of its superconducting properties, it only takes a little to steal a substantial amount of electricity."

"You're looking particularly festive this evening, Belden," Agent Burke said as he approached the young couple.  He held out a hand towards Jim and introduced himself and his wife, Sarah.  Jim went through the pleasantries and introduced himself as Trixie's boyfriend.

"Jim Frayne, huh?"  Neil Burke nodded.  "If my memory serves me correctly, you were Belden's first case."

Jim and Trixie laughed and gave a brief explanation to Sarah Burke of how they had met.  At the next pause in the conversation, Trixie got up the nerve to ask the question that was uppermost in her mind.  "Agent Burke, what's going to happen to Max?  I know you said the FBI needed to keep him after everything that happened at the beginning of the week, but what happens next?"

"He'll be turned over to Marguerite Newman," he replied.  "She's asked about him several times.  Apparently she's going to move to live with her sister after the first of the year.  My understanding is that Max is going to move with her."

"I see." Trixie managed to hide her disappointment.  "We had some Christmas presents for him, my roommate and I.  Do you think it would be okay to leave them with the doorman?"

"Absolutely," Agent Burke assured her.  "I'm sure Mrs. Newman will appreciate the gesture.  She's had quite a shock to deal with.  Not just losing her husband, but finding out that his niece and nephew conspired to steal his invention and murder him in the process to collect their inheritance."

"It never fails to surprise me how many truly horrible people you run across in your work, Neil." Mrs. Burke shuddered.  

"True," he acknowledged.  "But there are good guys too.  How about you excuse us men while we get you ladies a drink?  White wine, dear?" he asked his wife.

She nodded and Trixie murmured to Jim that she would have the same.  She watched as the two men departed, their mouths moving in conversation.  She looked at her mentor's wife.  "Those two certainly have a lot to talk about."

Sarah Burke laughed.  "Do you want me to call you Belden like Neil does or do you have a preference for something else?"

"Trixie," she answered promptly with a smile.  "Please call me Trixie.  All my friends do."

Handing her the first real case for the FBI was probably the best Christmas present that Dan and her brother could have given Trixie that year.  Once she was back in Sleepyside, the festivities and parties associated with the holidays were in full swing.  She was able to spend time with her friends, with Jim and her family.   But as Christmas Day drew near, she couldn't shake the feeling that something was missing. 

It was while watching a slide show on Christmas Eve that Mart and Bobby had put together of previous Belden Christmas gatherings that she realized what it was.  "Remember this one, Trixie?" Bobby asked her as he pushed the button to advance to the next frame.  It was the Christmas they had gotten Reddy, and the puppy was displayed in vivid color on the wall of the Belden living room.

"Reddy was a good dog," Trixie acknowledged smiling at the picture of a much younger Trixie sleeping with the red Irish-setter at her feet.  She'd never thought she'd love another dog like that until Max had come along.  She felt Jim reach for and squeeze her hand.  "He has a good home," Jim reminded her.

Trixie had to continue to remind herself of that fact, but it wasn't until the Bob-White Christmas Party the day after Christmas that she was able to really put Max out of her mind.

"We always do get serious about Dirty Santa," Trixie laughed, as she stole for the third and last time, a framed picture of the Bob-Whites that Diana had contributed to the exchange.  It was the hot gift of the night, and Trixie was thrilled to have drawn the last number for the exchange.  She watched as Brian turned and stole a gift from Jim to replace the picture that Trixie had taken from him.

"Are you sure, that's the last time that picture can be stolen?" Jim asked teasingly. 

"I'm sure," Trixie chortled with a toss of her curls.  "I'm the winnah!" 

"Well, I think I have something you might be willing to swap for it?" Jim teased.

Trixie looked around the room.  There was one package left under the tree and she had dismissed it when her turn came.  "I guess you'll have to open that one and take your chances."

"I guess I will," he said.  But instead of crossing to the tree and picking up the box, he moved to the door, opened it and walked out.

"What on earth is Jim doing?" Trixie asked.  The rest of the Bob-Whites ignored the question and stared at the door.  The next few moments seemed like an eternity to her, but in reality it was only seconds before Jim came back through the door, with Max beside him.

"Are you sure that picture can't be stolen from you?" he asked with a big grin on his face.

"Max!" Trixie cried, jumping up from her seat and heedlessly leaving the picture behind.  "Where did you come from?  You're supposed to be with Mrs. Newman!"

"Dan and Mart went with me to see her," Jim explained.  "They told her how they'd found the dog, and how attached you had gotten to him.  She wants you to have him."

"For real?"  Trixie asked.

"Merry Christmas, Trixie," he said handing her Max's leash.  "There is one condition, though.  I'm afraid Dan and Mart insisted on it."

"Sure," she agreed eagerly. "What is it?"

Dan and Mart exchanged a grin and a high-five as the chorused together.  "No sissy dog collars!"

Later, much later that evening, Mart snuck into her room and took another picture of Trixie curled up in her bed the night after Christmas with a dog sleeping at her feet. 

Chuckling to himself, he slipped quietly out of the room thinking to himself.   Next year at the Bob-White Christmas party it'll be the dog's picture that steals Christmas!