You're Not In For Much Fun

And when you're in a slump,
You're not in for much fun.
Un-slumping yourself
Is not easily done.

 

Trixie leaned her forehead against the cold window pane. The chill felt good against her aching head as she watched the falling snow. The snow was blanketing the ground in a pristine white cover, but the gray, snow-laden clouds drew Trixie’s attention as a more accurate reflection of her spirit.

Recalling the events following her abduction, Trixie realized her family and friends had waited for many anxious hours before learning she was going to be okay. It had been touch-and-go when she first arrived at the hospital. Loss of blood from an internal injury had sent her into shock and the doctors had to work fast and furiously, pumping her full of blood as they fought - even harder than she had fought - to save her.

At least I’m home! She thought to herself. Well, not exactly home … she surveyed the comfortable den at Crabapple Farm. I wonder how Jim is doing.

While incapacitated and in the hospital, her mind dulled by the vast quantities of drugs she received, Trixie worried more about Jim than about herself. Jim will blame himself for what happened, but once everyone knows about the door, they’ll know it’s my fault. Her eyes filled with tears as she thought yet again: Why didn’t I look before I opened the door?

She shook her head, refusing to cry. It wasn’t the guilt that threatened her well-being the most. It was the fear. Trixie was terribly afraid. Afraid Jonesy’s partner would be back to get her, or even worse, to torture Jim or kill him. The fear was new to her. She had felt guilt many times in her life, but never had she felt so afraid. Deep inside, the small part of her consciousness that was Trixie, struggled not to give up. She knew she couldn’t let them win. She wouldn’t let them win.

“Do you need anything?” Helen Belden’s soft voice interrupted Trixie’s internal tirade against the unknown they.

“No, I’m fine. I’m just glad to wear real clothes for a change.” Trixie had insisted on jeans and a soft cotton sweatshirt this morning. She was sick of sleepwear. Despite Helen’s gentle comment that clothes would likely cause more discomfort from the numerous abrasions, bruises and wounds that covered most her body, Trixie refused the silky gowns and soft pajamas.

Helen knew her daughter was far from fine, but she recognized the lie for what it was -- an attempt by Trixie to reassure her mother that she would be fine, eventually. Unable to stop herself, Helen probed gently. “Trixie, if you want to talk about it…”

Trixie shook her head, “Moms, please don’t.”

Her mother sighed and dropped it. “Let me know if you’d like some tea. I’m thinking a nap would be a good idea.”

Trixie nodded. She had only been up a couple of hours and she was already exhausted. She felt certain her head would explode at any moment. Unfortunately, sleeping was worse than being awake. When awake, she could fight off the demons, but when she slept they crept into her subconscious, making it difficult to keep them at bay. Her parents were concerned about her inability to sleep without help of the little white pills. “I’ll nap after my appointment,” she said as she turned to look at her Moms. She glanced at the clock and then down at her hand encased in the cast. “Do you think you could take me or should I call a cab?”

Helen shook her head; her daughter really wasn’t herself if she thought she would be going to her doctor’s appointment alone, much less in a taxi-cab.

“Your ride will be here in plenty of time.” She gave Trixie’s hair a ruffle, knowing that wouldn’t hurt her the way a hug would. She shook her head again as she left the room, mentally thanking her daughter-in-law for finding the therapist who had managed to connect with Trixie immediately.

 

 

Sleepyside Hospital after the attack…

Within ten minutes of meeting her, Trixie dismissed the young, bubbly psychologist who was assigned to her in the hospital.

“Beatrix Belden!” Liz and Honey both admonished her. “She’s here to help you.”

“There is no way that dippy little twit is going to help me. If you could have seen her face! She walked in here with her “How are we today?”” Trixie mimicked the high-pitched, perky voice perfectly. “What is this we shit? I am NOT six years old. They might as well send her down to pediatrics where she has a chance to connect with someone. She certainly isn’t going to be able to help me; I don’t care if she was the head cheerleader and homecoming queen.” Trixie sniffed, “Besides, Liz was head cheerleader at her school and she doesn’t act silly like that.”

“Uh, Trixie, don’t forget that I was also homecoming queen,” Liz reminded her friend. “In high school and in college, not to mention Miss Junior Miss, Miss Memphis, first runner-up for Miss Tennessee --”

Trixie interrupted before Liz could continue listing her many pageant awards. “Yeah, we know, Liz -- you start naming all your awards and we’ll be here all day. But you have to admit, you were never that perky!”

“Not once I met you!” Liz declared. “You wouldn’t let me be so focused on what people thought of me. You’re the one that taught me it was more important what I thought of me than what the guys at school thought of me, and once I stopped worrying about what they thought of me, then I liked me and you liked me too! You did like me, didn’t you Trixie?”

“Of course I liked you! I mean, I still like you. Liz, exactly how long have you been hanging out with Honey?” Trixie asked, staring at her friend. It wasn’t like Liz to talk about herself, much less ramble like she was doing. Something wasn’t right there. Liz is acting very mysterious, she thought to herself.

“Trixie.” Honey tried to be softer. She had pushed her friend hard to talk with a doctor. “You didn’t even give her a chance.”

“Yes, I did! There’s no need trying to wheedle me, Honey Wheeler Belden! If you want me to talk with someone they need to have a sense of humor. Why, I’ll bet there’s not a cop around that would have talked to Dr. Tiffany Van Thiess.” Trixie managed a weak toss of her sandy curls.

Honey and Liz exchanged a look. They both recognized Trixie’s reaction to the psychologist as a sign their friend was recovering, although neither would admit it in front of Trixie. The conversation ended with Honey shaking her head and murmuring something about finding someone else. Honey viewed it as a blessing when Trixie’s former partner called to check on things. After listening to Honey’s tale, he gave her the name of the exact therapist he believed could help Trixie.

“Just tell Trixie he’s a friend of mine and I promise he’ll be exactly what she needs,” John Harris told Honey. She had looked dubiously at the name and then asked Brian if he knew Dr. Reuben Sinclair.

“Why, yes – where did you meet him?” Brian asked in surprise.

When Honey explained, Brian was quiet. “What’s wrong, Brian? Do you think he’s the wrong doctor?”

“No, Reuben -- Dr. Sinclair -- is great. He’s older than me, but Honey, he doesn’t have privileges here at Sleepyside General. It’s not like he can just start treating her.”

“If he’s good, can’t he get privileges?” Honey asked. She was still bewildered by the many medical codes and protocols that Brian seemed to know so well.

“It will take a few days, and she needs to talk to someone soon, like today.” Brian spoke gently.

Honey nodded. She knew just the person who could make that happen. “I’ll make it happen today, you can count on that. All I need to know is if you’re going to call him or if you want me to?”

“Are you going to be stepping on toes?”

“Most definitely!” Honey exclaimed.

“And breaking all the rules of hospital protocol?” he continued.

“I will!” she affirmed, starting to smile for the first time in days.

“And you’re going to do whatever you think best for Trixie and to hell with the Chief of Staff and the Hospital Administrator?”

“I am!”

“Good, then I’ll call him for you,” Brian vowed.

“Brian Belden!” Honey threw her arms around her sometimes stuffy husband, “there’s hope for you yet!”

“I told you over a year ago, I just need to keep Honey in my life,” he murmured as his hand rubbed her back.

“And I told you over a year ago, all you had to do was ask.” She gave him a quick peck. “Now go call Dr. Sinclair and be sure and tell him that John Harris told us to call him.”

Brian clicked his heels together and gave his wife a mock salute before leaving to find an empty office to make the call. He already had a healthy respect for Reuben Sinclair, and John Harris’s endorsement was all he needed to help Honey break every convention of medical protocol drilled into him from the first year of med school.

After hearing Brian’s explanation of the circumstances, and that Trixie was John Harris’s former partner, Reuben Sinclair immediately cleared his schedule and drove to Sleepyside. “Just to visit, you understand?” he explained to Brian, his voice full of understanding. Brian knew from their brief conversation that his sister would be in good hands.

Honey, Liz and Brian all breathed sighs of relief when it became obvious that Dr. Sinclair hit it off with Trixie immediately.

 

 

“Dammit!” Jim hung up the phone with a slam, and let a curse fly as he allowed his frustration to get the best of him. He instantly regretted his behavior. It wasn’t Helen’s fault that Trixie had an appointment. He frowned as he wondered what kind of appointment it was. I should know why! Why can’t I remember what happened? Why won’t they let anyone tell me? Dr. Stewart is such an ass! Jim’s hand brushed through his russet hair in annoyance as he glanced at his watch. It’s time to call Brian and see what he has to say for himself.

Within two minutes, it was all Jim could do not to curse again. He badly wanted to hit something. He no longer had his cell phone and couldn’t remember any of Brian’s phone numbers, or Honey’s cell phone number. He easily remembered the phone number to the school, and of course, to Crabapple Farm. He was ready to tear something - anything - apart with his bare hands. “They won’t even tell me what happened to my cell phone!” he muttered out loud as he slammed both palms down on the smooth desk in the Manor House library. Disappointed in the way his day was unfolding, he sat in the luxurious, comfortable chair and rested his forehead on the cool glass that covered the desktop. “Damn, damn, damn!” he muttered, thinking: Surely my head will explode at any moment.

“Is there a problem, son?” Grace Wheeler asked solicitously, entering the room just in time to witness Jim’s final act of frustration.

Jim stood immediately, looking sheepish. “I’m sorry, Mother. I didn’t realize you were there.”

Grace shook her head sympathetically. “There’s no need to apologize. Is there something I can help you with?”

“Actually…” Jim stared at her as a thought came to him. “Mother, do you have Brian and Honey’s phone numbers written down somewhere?”

“Yes, of course, dear.” She crossed to the desk where Jim was sitting and opened the side drawer, pulling out an elegant dark green address book and flipping immediately to the B’s. Her perfectly manicured hand followed the names down, until she located Brian’s and Honey’s numbers. “Right here, which one did you need?”

“I’m not sure,” he replied, surprised his mother had such a thick book of numbers. He looked at the book and noticed she had Mart and Diana’s information as well as Trixie’s, Peter and Helen and even Bobby’s phone number at school and his address at the athletic dorm. “Mother, how is it that you have all of this?”

“What do you mean?” she said looking at him in puzzlement.

“The Bob-Whites, their addresses and phone numbers, even Bobby. How do you have all of this?”

“Well, dear, first of all Brian is my son-in-law. Don’t you think it would be unusual if I didn’t have his home phone number and home address? But as to the rest of the Beldens and Bob-Whites, I just ask for it and then either Celia or I will record it in my book. Your father takes it and has his secretary put it in the computer, so he has the electronic version of this. But I still don’t care for using computers and it’s easier for Celia and me to keep up with this book.”

“Mother, do you know what happened to my cell phone?” Jim asked bluntly. Looking at her, he saw a flash of concern in her eyes.

“Yes, I do.”

“Will you tell me?” he asked.

Grace Wheeler sighed. She knew that Brian, as well as Jim’s doctors had been firm about not telling Jim the things he couldn’t remember, but fact that the police had taken the cell phone wasn’t something he would know.

“The police have it. They wanted it as evidence,” Grace explained.

“Evidence of what?” Jim was incredulous.

“Evidence of what you can’t remember.” She shifted to rest her hand on Jim’s arm. “Jim, don’t ask me anything else. You’ll eventually remember and to be perfectly honest, I didn’t ask what kind of evidence was on the cell phone. Maybe it’s phone numbers that were called or something of that nature. Your father knows, and Dan, but I don’t think any of the rest of us know exactly what they want to prove with your phone.”

Jim nodded. She had told him more than anyone else. “Why did you tell me that much?” he asked.

“Because it’s not something you could remember,” she explained. “You were at the hospital when Molinson’s men arrived at the clubhouse to gather evidence. You would have no way of knowing they took your phone, so it’s not something you can remember.”

“Thank you, Mother. Thank you for telling me about the phone.” He added a private mental thank you for the unknowing hint she had given him. Thank you for telling me about the clubhouse. Now, what in the world was my cell phone doing at the clubhouse?

“You’re welcome. Do you want to tell me why you were banging your head earlier?” Her hazel eyes were full of concern as they gazed at the red-headed young man. She was still horrified when she remembered how lost Jim had seemed when he finally woke up in the hospital

 

 

Sleepyside Hospitalafter the attack…

“Where am I?” Jim asked groggily.

“You’re in a room at Sleepyside General Hospital.” Madeleine Grace Wheeler answered as if she were talking to a very young child.

Jim flinched and strained to remember but it just wouldn’t come to him. What’s the last thing I remember? I had a date with Trixie. He finally spoke. “Was I in an auto accident?”

Matthew and Grace exchanged concerned looks. They were shocked at this latest development. Matthew Wheeler was the first to speak. “Jim, what’s the last thing you remember?”

“I had a date with Trixie. We were going to ride and I was going to…” he stopped, remembering what he had planned to ask Trixie. I’ll be damned if I’m going say that! Wait, do they already know – is that the problem? What the hell is going on here? “Is anyone going to tell me what happened?”

“You just got out of surgery,” Matthew spoke up. “The doctors had to operate on your left leg.”

Jim’s hands moved immediately to push the covers off his lap and his leg. He winced as he saw the massive bandage on his thigh. He looked up at his dad. “How bad is it?”

“There was a major muscle severed, but the surgeon thought you would have a complete recovery. Only time will tell for certain. There is a possibility you may have a permanent limp.” Matthew believed in brutal honesty, and had ignored Brian’s counsel that it might be best to tell Jim only that the doctors expected a full recovery.

Jim nodded. “What about Trixie, is she okay? Was she in the car, too?”

Matthew shook his head, “Jim, you weren’t in a car accident. Are you sure there’s nothing else you remember?”

Jim gulped as a wave of nausea hit him. His head ached as he tried to remember, but he finally looked at his dad in despair and slowly shook his head. “Where’s Trixie?” he asked again.

 

 

Dan stared at the man he had just brought in for questioning about peddling drugs. Dan and Spider had been watching him for days, knowing he frequented several places on Hawthorne Street. Unfortunately, he was defiant and mouthy. There would be no way he would talk without a deal. Dan wanted nothing more than to plow his fist into the pusher’s face. His head ached beyond belief, but Dan knew if he gave into the physical release he craved he would lose the only lead he had. He felt certain this scum-bag had seen Jonesy over on Hawthorne and could tell them something about what Jim’s stepfather had been planning. Spider had been a hard sell when it came to making a deal with this particular drug peddler, but he eventually realized its importance to Dan.

“So, tell me Ringo, what do you know about what goes on over there on Hawthorne?” Dan gritted his teeth.

Ringo smirked in reply. “What’s in it for me?”

“We’ll forget about what we saw today,” Spider interjected. He wanted to keep Dan from giving away all of Ringo’s activities they had witnessed in the past few weeks.

“Naw, not good enough. No tellin’ how long you po pos have been watchin’ me.”

“Well… if you’re worried about that, then there must be something there. That’s our only offer for a deal today.” Spider stood up, hoping Dan wasn’t going to blow it.

Dan stood slowly, turning to follow Spider out of the room.

Ringo waited until the door was almost closed, before he shouted, “Wait!”

Dan turned, his poker face masking the triumph he felt. He knew Ringo would take the deal. “We don’t have all day to mess with you Ringo. If you got something for us -- spill it. Otherwise we have things to do.”

“You’ll do what you can for me about today’s bust?” Ringo knew every day he was in jail was another day he wouldn’t be making the cheddar to take home.

“Yeah, but just today,” Spider replied.

“Tell us what you know about Gene Jones -- Jonesy, I think everyone called him.”

Ringo shrugged. “Hadn’t been around that long. Kept to himself, kept his crib quiet, not much coming and going. Drove a dark green car for a while.”

“Tell us something we don’t know,” Spider advised, his eyes narrowing.

Ringo astutely realized the little bit of information he shared wasn’t going to cut it. He sighed. With his record, he needed their help. “An older lady, across the street, did you talk to her? She’s always watchin what’s going down out her front window. She mighta seen something.”

“Look Ringo, we want to know what you know. Give us some skinny, what’s the word on the street?”

Ringo laughed, “Look, the dude was shifty! He got what was comin’ to him, messin’ with that Sista and her baby-daddy. My peoples will tell you, he was trippin’ since he showed up round here. He had the cheddar, poseur and all, he had the cheddar.”

“Where did he get it, Ringo? The cheddar, the money, where did he get it?” Dan’s voice held a quiet intensity.

Ringo shrugged again. “Kept it down low, none my peoples was down with him.”

“What are you not telling us?”

Ringo shook his head, “Nuthin, I swear. You got all the 4-1-1 on the dude that I gots.” He looked at both Dan and Spider, understanding dawned his face. Obviously, there was more to the whacked, stoop-shouldered man on Hawthorne than he would ever know.

It’s something, Dan thought to himself. But it sure ain’t much.

 

 

Sleepyside Hospital after the attack…

The anxiety level was palpable in the Emergency department waiting room, where Jim’s and Trixie’s families and friends waited to hear reports from the doctors about the extent of their injuries. Jim’s surgeon had been out to explain to Matthew and Grace that surgical intervention was needed for Jim’s leg wound. Any chance for complete recovery was dependent upon immediate intervention, but only time would tell if he would have a permanent limp. The doctor was cautiously hopeful as he explained the procedure, making no promises.

Trixie’s diagnosis was taking longer, even though she had been the first victim to arrive at the hospital. Trixie’s brothers only knew the doctors were trying to get her stabilized. While machines pumped blood and IV fluids into her veins, warming devices were slowly returning her body temperature to normal as tests pinpointed the source of the internal bleeding which had sent her into shock shortly after her arrival at the hospital. Brian pushed the limits of his connections – only to obtain the sketchiest of information on her injuries and treatment.

Mart paced back and forth while they waited, having incurred the disapproval of his older brother for suggesting they should call his parents home immediately. Brian had wanted to wait until they could tell them something concrete and Mart had refused. For the first time ever, Dan had to separate the two brothers.

“Dammit, Brian! Are you saying you know she’s going to be fine?” Mart demanded, his temper about to fly.

“Know? I don’t know. I’m only giving you my medical opinion. If they can get her stabilized from the shock, the other injuries shouldn’t be life threatening.”

“That’s a mighty big if for me. I’m calling them.”

“There’s nothing they can do,” Brian said quietly. “There’s nothing any of us can do.”

“They can start for home. They can be here in case something goes wrong. She’s their only daughter, Brian. They need to know.”

“And they’ll worry the entire trip back! It’s a long train ride, Mart, five long hours of knowing nothing and worrying.”

Matthew Wheeler spoke-up then. “I’ll send my plane for them. They can be here in an hour, if I make the call right now.”

Brian shook his head, “I still think you should wait until we know more.”

“Listen, that’s our sister in there. They would want to know.” Mart insisted. “Maybe you need to think like her brother for a few minutes instead of like a doctor.”

“I am thinking like her brother! Why don’t you have a little bit of faith in the doctors!” Brian retorted. It was clear both brothers were upset now.

“I do have faith!” Mart insisted. “But if they can be here in an hour, then what’s the problem? Brian, what if something goes wrong? Can you live with not calling them if they miss the chance to see her while she’s still alive?”

Brian had shoved him then, “Dammit, Mart. She’s not going to die. Don’t you understand anything I’ve told you!”

“She’s not invincible, Brian!” Mart pushed right back. “Didn’t you hear what that doctor said to us? Until they know for sure, there are no guarantees. Things could go either way. Doctors can’t fix everyone, every time! I’m calling them, now!” Mart reached for his cell phone as if daring Brian to stop him.

Brian made a desperate grab for it, “Mart – wait!”

That was when Dan finally interfered. “Mart – give me the phone.” His tone was quiet but forceful as he stepped between the two brothers. Mart glared at him for one long minute before handing him the phone.

“I’ll call them,” Dan said. “It can be an official call. Mr. Wheeler, will you please call and arrange for the plane? I need to tell them where to go to meet it.”

Matthew nodded and quickly moved to make his own phone calls. Dan knew from the smooth ease of his movements and the business-like way he handled the calls that he agreed with Dan’s decision to call Trixie’s parents.

Di came up then. Gently taking Mart’s arm to lead him out into the hallway, she murmured softly to him, one arm carefully around his waist in comfort. At the same time, Honey led Brian to a nearby couch, providing the same kind of comfort as Di was, the comfort of simply being there for him.

After Dan completed his call to Helen and Peter, Liz approached him.

“Dan?” She lightly touched his arm. “Do you want to get out of here for a couple of hours? You could shower and change. Maybe eat something?” Dan could tell that Liz wanted to comfort him much like Diana and Honey were comforting Mart and Brian. However, he was consumed with guilt, blaming himself because he had not told all the Bob-Whites about Jonesy.

Looking for someone else to blame, he lashed out. “What’s the matter, Elizabeth? Been wearing the same outfit too long? I’m sure if you call pretty boy Riker, he’ll give you a ride back to Trixie’s apartment so you can change clothes.”

Liz took a deep breath, and tried again. “Dan,” she said softly, “You can’t help them if you don’t take a few minutes to recharge.”

“I could have helped them if I had told everyone,” he mumbled.

“What?” she asked. “Told everyone what?”

“It’s too late now.” He looked at her hard then. “Call Riker to take you home, Liz. Right now I need my friends. The Bob-Whites stand together.”

Liz didn’t say a word. She didn’t have too. Dan could see the hurt all over her face. She simply stood up and walked away, leaving him feeling as if he had just kicked a defenseless puppy. Dan shook his head, feeling as if he couldn’t do anything right.

 

 

Unknown to the three Bob-Whites who were suffering the most emotional pain from the aftereffects of Jonesy’s attack, they had one person who completely understood their concerns and frustrations. The Sleepyside police force worked the case as a top priority and Captain Wendell Molinson quietly worked behind the scenes. He read every report filed by the investigative team he had assigned to the case, but found nothing to explain Jonesy’s motives. He demanded and received daily briefings. He personally combed through every lead and tip the department received, usually on his own time. A trace on the gun itself revealed it had been stolen a month earlier from a store in White Plains. The dark green sedan had been found abandoned at the train station. It was stolen; tags exchanged with another vehicle and wiped clean of prints – another frustrating dead end.

Molinson had read Trixie’s police statement so many times he had it memorized. He was totally baffled, since he could not pinpoint a single clue to lead them to Jonesy’s partner. The veteran police officer felt almost as frustrated as Jim had, when he tried to remember what had happened that fateful afternoon. Molinson told no one how he had literally kicked his desk upon learning that the doctors were unsure if Jim’s memory loss was the result of the severe concussion or simply post-traumatic stress-induced amnesia. Trixie’s accurate and detailed account of her “amateur assailant,” as she had named him, gave no new leads, since the stocking mask had disguised any identifying features.

Molinson’s most difficult task was keeping Honey, Spider and Dan out of the way. The group had exchanged harsh words when Molinson refused to let the task force team assist on the case.

“What do you mean we need to stay out of the way and let the detectives do their jobs?” Dan was incredulous.

“You know exactly what I mean, Mangan.” Molinson’s tone was sharp. “Your task force is working gang migration and expansion from NYC to Sleepyside, White Plains, Croton, and other communities in Westchester County. Your background here is the reason why NYPD assigned you to the task force and it’s our grant that’s paying your salary. You need to focus on those issues and problems and let Lt. Turner and Detective West work the investigation.”

“But, sir,” Spider protested. “Dan and I know Jonesy. We can lead the investigation and continue our work on the task force.”

“Sorry, the answer is no. I’ll allow Turner and West to keep you two briefed, and that interfering friend and partner of Trixie’s as well,” -- he shot Honey a sharp glare – “but that’s as far as I’m willing to go with this. You can read the files on your own time, but you don’t chase any leads. Give your ideas to Turner and West to follow up on. Understood?”

Spider had responded with a resounding, “Yes, Sir!” while Dan had mumbled something.

“Mangan? Do you have a problem?” Molinson demanded gruffly.

“Hell, yes! Turner is a complete ass. How that man ever made Lieutenant is beyond me! He can’t run an investigation as well as Trixie could when she fourteen!”

“Take it or leave it!” Molinson barked in response

“Fine, but if he blows it, it’s not going to be Spider and me on your case. Matthew Wheeler is going to demand answers from the Mayor,” Dan warned. He liked Molinson and grudgingly admitted to himself that the police captain was doing the right thing.

“If Turner blows it, Matthew Wheeler will be the least of my worries. Don’t think I’m not going to be watching as closely as you are!”

Honey, as a licensed private investigator, stood silently, knowing the police didn’t have to cooperate with her at all. She planned to work with her own connections in the district attorney’s office anyway.

The three friends were quickly dismayed at the lack of progress in the case. Spider agreed with Dan that Jonesy couldn’t possibly be connected to anything Trixie was working as a PI. Honey had a “feeling” there was a connection somewhere, but she couldn’t provide a convincing argument to overturn their adamant position. She began to pursue a theory of an old life insurance policy Jonesy had taken out on Jim, focusing her investigation on locating such a policy through the connections they had forged with New York Mutual. Spider and Dan continued to work side leads through the task force by questioning drug suspects along Hawthorne Street.

“Dan, are you sure this is what you want?” Honey asked bluntly and with less than her usual tact. “It seems strange that we’re not going to keep meeting and comparing notes.”

“Face it, Honey. We’re not doing much more than arguing.” Dan replied. “By the way, how’s Jim doing?”

She shook her head, “Physically he’s doing okay, but he has this tension in him that I haven’t seen since I first met him. He hasn’t formed a bond with his psychologist.”

“Does that surprise you?” Spider offered. Both Dan and Honey looked at him in surprise. Spider was usually quiet during these discussions.

Spider looked embarrassed by their sudden attention and launched into an explanation. “Jim’s a top notch psychologist in his own right. Don’t you think it’s going to be difficult to find a doctor he can relate to, as well as one that can relate to him?”

The quiet that met his question troubled him. He didn’t realize they were carefully mulling over his astute insight into the situation. “You know what I’m saying, don’t you?” he finally interrupted the lingering silence. “Physician heal thyself, and all that stuff.”

Honey and Dan both nodded. It was Dan that spoke first. “Yeah, I should have thought of that, too.”

Honey looked at Dan oddly. “What else should you have thought of, Danny?”

“To tell everyone Jonesy was out of prison,” he answered without looking at her. “I only told Jim and Uncle Bill, instead of everyone.”

“Jim told Daddy,” she said quietly. “Daddy told Mr. Belden and Tom. Oh, and Mr. Maypenny, but you had already told him. That’s why Mr. Maypenny was so suspicious of the green sedan when he kept seeing it.”

“If I had told Trixie, she would have been ready for him.” Dan said.

Honey shrugged, “Maybe, maybe not. Daddy paid someone for years to monitor Jonesy and his parole, and it caught him off guard. Not to mention my decision to wait on the security system for the school until the first of the year.”

“Wait just a minute!” Spider spoke up. “Let me get this right. Every single one of you, the Bob-Whites; you’re going to find some way to blame yourselves for what happened. Please tell me I’m wrong about this!”

Dan and Honey exchanged guilty looks.

“Oh, great, that’s just great. Every damn one of you needs a reality check for Christmas! There’s only one person to blame for this mess and we all know who it is, and he sure as hell ain’t no Bob-White!” Spider stood up in disgust. “Let’s roll, Mangan. At this rate, none of us is going to be in for much fun this Christmas.”