Simple as That

Got us a situation
It don't need no explanation
It don't take a scientist
To figure out just what this is...
It's as simple as that.

 

Trixie was determined to track down her mysterious secret admirer. The day following the gala, she began by directing her attention to solving the puzzle the minute she was dressed. Unfortunately, she made no progress -- the florist who delivered the white orchid had yet to open for the day. Banishing all thoughts of mysterious orchids and her latest conundrum concerning nude-toned stockings, she switched her focus to completion of the database she had started. With the same determination that made her such a success at her job, she finished before lunch.

She was satisfied her work had been thorough, although it would need tweaking in the future as she gathered data and learned more facts about the case. Trixie stood to stretch, and sighed with the relief that came from finishing a major project. Glancing at the clock, she moved towards the phone to call the florist. The call was another exercise in frustration, leaving her disgruntled with her lack of progress.

“Look, it’s really very simple; I need to know who sent me the orchid. I don’t need a secret admirer – not in this day and age. Why can’t you tell me who sent the orchid?”

The answering voice was clearly losing patience with Trixie. “Ma’am, we understand you may have concerns but we’re not giving any information out over the phone. If you want to come down here and present some appropriate identification, the manager will speak to you. That’s the best I can do.”

“Okay, okay… What time do you close?” Trixie pushed a hand through her unruly curls. A trip uptown had not been in her plans for the day.

“Five o’clock. But there’s no point in coming by today. Mr. Steward always takes off the day after Valentine’s Day to recover from the madness and mayhem of the holiday.”

“Fine, what time do you open tomorrow?” Trixie was fighting a losing battle to keep the frustration out of her voice.

“Ten,” the voice answered curtly.

When she finally disconnected the call, she stood for a moment, arms crossed, reluctantly admitting a certain admiration for the woman’s firm stance on refusing to give out any information over the phone.

Trixie sighed. I may as well make some phone calls and get some work done before leaving to meet Ben. She shook her head, wondering if Ben was aware of the story Charlie had divulged the evening before. She had found it oddly ironic that Charlie’s story involved one of her suspects.

Charlie had related a crazy tale about Reid Beckhart’s wife, Allison, finding the two of them in a compromising situation. Charlie swore that the circumstances had been misinterpreted. Allison Beckhart’s alleged friend spread the rumors. He had refused to tell her what he had been doing with Reid Beckhart, citing attorney-client privilege. She recalled his earnest plea to believe him.

“Trixie, I swear to you – it was not what it seemed. It was nothing illegal.”

“Adultery and cheating aren’t necessarily illegal but they’re still wrong,” she had replied.

“It was nothing like that!” Charlie insisted.

Trixie’s only consolation in Charlie’s revelation about his checkered past was learning Reid and Allison Beckhart remained his clients. I’ll have to hope Charlie will be able to introduce me to him some time. I’ll wonder if they’ll be at the Winter Ball Saturday night.

The ringing of the telephone interrupted her musings. She glanced down at the caller-ID screen, pleased to see Diana’s work number. A few minutes into the conversation, however, Trixie found herself almost wishing she had accepted the assignment in Kansas.

“Di, I still don’t understand why you think that innocent comment has anything to do with me knowing about a wedding.” Trixie felt she was becoming well-versed in the art of deception. She knew she couldn’t reveal her knowledge of Honey’s engagement to Di.

“Maybe because you forgot to mention a certain quick trip to Boston at our brunch the other day,” Di retorted emphatically.

“I didn’t tell you about my trip?” Trixie asked, with a false air of innocence. “I could have sworn I passed on Honey’s greetings to everyone.”

“Did you see Brian?” Di continued her interrogation.

“Well, yes. All three of us went to dinner. Then Honey and I had an old-fashioned slumber party.”

“No hints? No ring? Nothing to make you think they might be planning something?” Di had the tenacity of a terrier.

“There wasn’t a diamond ring anywhere in sight!” Trixie answered truthfully. “Honey didn’t want to talk about Brian; she seemed to be avoiding the subject. Besides, I went to see her to talk about our business. She’s fine with us starting up full force at the first of the year.” Trixie’s voice dropped a level, and she used her most insinuating tone. “You know, I did specifically ask her if she was positive she wanted our business to still be called the Belden-Wheeler Detective Agency and she said she was positive.”

“Oh!” Di was quiet, seeming to pondering the information Trixie had just shared.

“I did tell her that I thought I could convince you to design our business logo.” Taking advantage of a lull in Di’s inquisition, Trixie seized the opportunity to change the focus of the conversation.

“Design what?” Di asked in surprise.

“A logo for our business – The Belden-Wheeler Detective Agency. I know you work primarily with fine art, but we thought you might be willing to give us a hand. You’re good with stuff like that.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yes, of course. We need a business logo. You know something to print on those little business cards, stationary, envelopes. We’ll probably have it screened on the glass door of our office.” Trixie smiled, taking a moment to dream about actually opening the business with Honey.

“I’ll make a stab at it,” Di offered. “I’d better run, Trix. Do you have plans this weekend?”

“Yes, the Winter Ball on Saturday night.” She grimaced at the reminder.

“Oh, good! Mart and I’ll be there. You know how Bebe is.” Diana hesitated only a moment. “Are you going with Jim?” Di sounded as if she thought that pairing was a given.

“No, Charlie’s taking me.”

“Trixie!” The dismay in Di’s voice was evident. “You can’t be going out with Charlie, again. That’s going to be your third date with him!”

“Yes, I know. Despite what everyone around me seems to think, I do remember how to count to three.” Trixie was striving not to show her impatience with her oldest friend.

“Trixie, three dates means you’re serious about him,” Di countered. “Everyone knows that. How on earth can you be serious about a guy like Charlie?”

“Di, he’s not what you think he is. He’s really a very smart man. He knows that I’m not serious about him. He’s already half in love with -” Trixie broke off, remembering she had no right to betray Charlie’s confidence about Mitsy Thornhill.

“Half in love with you?” Di demanded.

“No!” Trixie sighed, totally exasperated with herself and the situation. “Look, Diana. Charlie and I understand each other perfectly. We’re not serious about each other.”

“Okay, Trixie, have it your way. But people will begin to pair the two of you together whether you like it or not,” Diana warned.

 

 

Trixie visited the gym and updated her reports before picking up the New York papers and reading them over coffee at a nearby Starbucks. She cringed when she saw her picture with Charlie on ‘Page Six’ of The Post. A few minutes later, she glanced at her watch and ditched the newspapers; it was time to head towards Botany and Blossoms. She called ahead to make sure the owner was in. Dressed in the same outfit she had worn when she returned to New York to break the news to her parents, Trixie walked confidently into the trendy florist shop, surprised at how much the small space managed to hold. She lacked her friend’s eye for flair and art, but she quickly realized this shop, despite its small size, was operating with a unique panache.

A friendly, gray-haired woman greeted her as she entered. Recognizing the voice from the phone the previous day, Trixie explained the purpose for her visit. The clerk waved her toward a tiny glassed-in office at the back of the shop. A handsome, dark-haired man sat at a glass-topped desk and appeared to be studying a brightly colored Gerber daisy.

Trixie knocked on the doorframe, a tentative smile on her face. “Excuse me. I called yesterday about a delivery your shop made on Valentine’s Day.”

The slender man waved her toward a chair without looking up. “Have you ever thought about orange? Seriously, what in the world goes with orange besides hay and gourds? I tried explaining that to Mrs. Hancock, but she insists on these dreadful flowers.”

“Oh!” Trixie hesitated, unsure if he were really expecting her to answer the question. “The sun is kind of orange colored. Maybe she wants something cheerful.”

“What could be cheerful about something that reminds you of traffic cones?” His voice positively dripped sarcasm before he looked up. Then he frowned.

“Do I know you?”

“No, we’ve never met. I called yesterday and Ms. Thomas told me I’d have to come down here and speak to you. It’s about a delivery you made yesterday – well, actually the day before yesterday.”

“You look very familiar.” He dropped the orange flower on the glass-topped worktable and studied her carefully. “I’m David Steward. Are you sure we haven’t met?”

Trixie held out her hand. “I’m positive. I’ve just moved back to New York after several years away. I’m Beatrix Belden.”

“Beatrix… Beatrix…” he mumbled, his eyes narrowing. He took her hand and instead of shaking it, dropped a kiss on the back of her hand. “Indeed, the pleasure is min—”

“Oh my! Oh my! It’s can’t be.” His jaw dropped as realization dawned on his face. “Marta! Marta! It’s her – the girl in the paper.”

Trixie looked over her shoulder in bewilderment, to see if there was another person standing behind her. The friendly gray-haired woman was evidently Marta; she was making her way toward the office.

“David, what is the excitement?” Marta asked calmly. It was clear to Trixie that she was the unflappable employee in the shop.

“It’s her – the girl in the red dress. Charlie Prescott’s latest flame.”

Trixie’s face flushed a faint pink. “I’m sorry, were you at the Heart Association Gala?”

“Oh, heavens no! We’re much too busy on Valentine’s Day for social events. Moreover, they expect you to donate your time for that event. Marta and I are loyal followers of all the society gossip. You’re on today’s Page Six, and you looked fabulous, girlfriend.” David practically gushed as he smiled at the petite blonde-haired woman. “Oh, sweetheart, please tell me you need me to do the flowers for your dinner party?” He grabbed her hand and brought it to his cheek. “I’ll be happy to do it, even if I have another engagement.” His hand waved airily as he continued, not at all nonplussed by her stunned silence. “It doesn’t matter if I have another party scheduled, Marta will handle anyone else. Won’t you, Marta?”

Marta smiled at her boss’s enthusiasm, but shook her head. “You’d best listen to what she has to say, David. I’ll bring tea.”

David brushed a chair off with a flourish and gestured for Trixie to have a seat. “So, darling, tell me, what brings you to my humble shop?”

Trixie cleared her throat. The urge to stereotype the flamboyant florist was overwhelming.

“You see, Mr. Steward—”

“David,” he interrupted again with a clasp of his hands. “I insist! You must call me David!”

Trixie took another breath and nodded. “Okay, David. You see, I received a couple of deliveries from your shop on Valentine’s Day.”

“Oh, yes! The young Mr. Prescott placed an order for two dozen roses. I picked them out myself – red tiger roses. They were okay, weren’t they?” he asked anxiously.

“Oh, yes. They’re beautiful. I’m not concerned about the roses. There was a plant -- a blooming, white orchid in a ceramic pot,” Trixie explained, pausing when Marta returned with a tea tray. Further conversation was halted while David fussed over the tea, not satisfied until Trixie was sitting with a delicate tea cup in her hand. At that time, he eagerly indicated that she should continue her story.

“You see, it’s the orchid that I’m concerned about. I’d like to know who sent it. The card wasn’t signed.”

“You mean you really don’t know?” David asked, plainly astounded.

Trixie shook her head. “No. I asked every possible person who could’ve sent it. They all said they didn’t.”

To her surprise, David clapped his hands in delight. “So this is a true secret-admirer!”

Unsure what the proper response would be, Trixie only nodded slowly.

“Let me get Marta. She’s the only who’ll be able to find the record of the order.” David stood and bustled out of the office, leaving Trixie alone. She was tempted to try her hand out at the computer sitting in the back corner to see if she could locate the order herself, but she refrained. A few moments later, David returned.

“This is a bit tricky,” he admitted to her as he sat down.

“Oh?” she frowned.

“Do you have some identification?” he asked politely.

Trixie pulled out her passport and driver’s license, handing them over for inspection.

Hmmm…” He studied both id’s, frowning. He finally looked up. “Are you single, Ms. Belden?”

“Why, yes!” she replied.

“Are you sure?” he insisted.

“Of course, I’m sure!” she retorted indignantly. “I believe I would know if I were married or not.”

“It’s just, well, we don’t want to be in the middle of any kind of marital dispute,” David explained. “We just take the orders and send the flowers. We really don’t want to be swarmed with detectives and people trying to catch their spouse cheating.”

“David, I promise you. I’m not married, and I’ve never been married. In fact, no one has ever asked me to marry them!”

“That’ll change. Don’t worry sweetie,” David reached over and patted her hand in a gesture of reassurance. “A girl like you doesn’t come along every day. Trust me; Marta will tell you, I’m never wrong about these things. You are going to be this year’s ‘it’ girl. I haven’t seen any one with your unique style in a long time.”

His comments almost distracted her from her mission. She opened her mouth to ask him why and then shut it. “Are you going to tell me who sent the flower?”

He placed an order form in front of her. Her mouth dropped as she read the information. “You… you’re sure?”

“I take it you know him?”

“Absolutely,” she grinned. “Thank you for your help.” She stood to leave. “And thank you for the tea.”

“My pleasure. This person, it’s okay that he sent you the plant?”

“It’s fine,” Trixie reassured him. “I should’ve realized it was him.”

“Very well. Please keep us in mind anytime you need flowers.” David stood and once again picked up her hand, this time giving it a kiss. “You are a delight.”

“Mr. Steward…”

“David,” he interrupted immediately. “I absolutely insist you call me David. Mr. Steward is my father.”

“David,” Trixie gave him a tiny smile. “May I ask you a question?”

“Absolutely,” he vowed. His voice rang with sincerity.

“Is there anything wrong with wearing red shoes with a red dress?”

 

 

In the end, the two of them went to lunch at a secluded café where David assured Trixie they could “dish” about anything in a discreet and private environment. Once settled at a tiny table for two, Trixie shamelessly picked his brain about everything from belts to hosiery color. She felt some of her uneasiness evaporate when he patted her hand and reassured her that her Valentine’s Day ensemble was spot-on.

“Darling,” he said –- but from his mouth it had been a three-syllable word with the long daahling drawn out in his own personal dramatic style -- “you must understand, those girls are simply jealous. Here you show up, flaunting the latest designer fashion, in a style they wouldn’t have dreamed of pulling together because it didn’t come off the runway like that, on the arm of New York’s most eligible bachelor. Of course their claws are going to come out!”

“But, David, you don’t understand! Charlie and I are just friends. They looked great as well. What’s the point of slamming me? They don’t even know me!” Trixie was still smarting over the overhead conversation.

“Oh? Just friends, huh?” His gray eyes twinkled, and it was clear to Trixie that David adored gossip. “Well, even so, with your fabulous ensemble came on the heels of that marvelous gown you wore to the Opera -- they see you as competition.”

“Yeah, well if I didn’t consider Charlie a friend, I would say they were welcome to him! But as it is now, I wouldn’t wish girls like that on my enemies, much less my friends!” Trixie muttered.

David responded with a delighted, tinkling laugh. “Oh, Beatrix, daahling, you are just what this city needs! Now, tell me what are you wearing to the Winter Ball?”

 

 

Armed with a new friend and fashion ally, Trixie returned to her apartment in total embarrassment over the mysterious orchid. She couldn’t believe she hadn’t solved the identity of her secret admirer. Once inside, she went straight to the phone and dialed a familiar number.

“Sleepyside National Bank.”

“Daddy. It’s me, Trixie.” She leaned back in her chair. “What did you get Moms for Valentine’s Day?”

“Why, princess, are you thinking I forgot to get your mother something?” Peter smiled and dropped the pen in his hand down on the desk. He had a feeling he knew what was coming next.

“No, I’m sure you remembered. Just like you remembered how much I like white orchids.”

He chuckled. “Well so much for my great plotting and subterfuge. That little mystery didn’t take you but two days to solve.”

“Daddy!” Trixie wailed. “I can’t believe you did that! Do you know how many men I asked if they sent me the orchid? I’m so embarrassed. What will they think when they find out my father sent me a flower on Valentine’s Day?”

“How many guys did you ask?” Peter asked, sitting up a bit straighter and finding he was very interested in what was going on. “I figured you would think it was from Jim, unless he sent you some flowers as well.”

Trixie was quiet for a moment. “Daddy, are you trying to meddle in my love life?” she asked bluntly.

“Of course not, princess. I just wanted to make sure that my second best girl wasn’t feeling lonely on Valentine’s Day.” Peter would never admit that one of the tellers at the bank had shown him the picture of Trixie at the opera with Charlie Prescott. While he had no real desire to meddle in his daughter’s affairs, he shuddered at the thought of her with anyone other than Jim Frayne.

“Thanks, Dad. It’s a beautiful plant.” She knew she had made her point.

“You’re welcome, princess. It’s my pleasure.” Peter grinned, wondering what Jim had thought when Trixie asked him about the orchid. “Now, tell me – when are you going to make it home again for a visit?”