How Do I Get There?

We've always been the best of friends
No secrets and no demands
But suddenly from somewhere out of the blue
I see a different light around you
One thing I haven't told you, I just want to hold you
And never let go, I need to know
How do I get there from here?

 

Trixie arrived a few minutes early for her meeting at Jupiter Plains Software. Warren Mortimer greeted her with a firm handshake, and seemed sincerely delighted to have her on board and evaluating his systems.

“You’re ready to get started then?” he asked once all the formalities of paperwork were out of the way.

“Yes. Do you have a cubicle or spot for me to work this week?” Trixie inquired. She managed to keep herself from tugging on the skirt of her black wool business suit. It felt entirely too short, although she knew she was appropriately dressed. She privately vowed that when this assignment was over, that she would never wear a skirt to work again.

“Over by our CIO, there’s a free office.” He stood to walk with her. “It’s very small, but we felt you’d want to be near the technical team.”

Trixie smiled. “That will be fine. It’s only for a few weeks.”

“You’ll have lunch with BeBe and me about noon?” he asked, punching the button on the elevator. The Information Technology Department was on the floor below Warren’s office.

“Yes, I’d love to.” Trixie smiled. Bebe would be a welcome break from looking at internet transfers and computer settings.

“Great, come on upstairs about then. I’ll make a reservation or have something sent up.” Warren’s schedule was busy, but he wanted to welcome the young woman as part of his team. Working with Trixie caused him to regret again that he and BeBe were never able to have more children besides Livvy. Not that they weren’t immensely proud of her. Her interest had been in medicine, specifically in medical research. While Warren regretted not having a child who was interested in running the business someday, he knew Livvy was happy. In hindsight, we should have adopted another child. Someone who might be interested in this business and how it’s run.

With those thoughts running through his head, he left Trixie in the hands of Ross Johnson, the CIO of Jupiter Plains. After a quick tour of the department and the necessary account logins and passwords, Trixie started the grunt work. Barely an hour into the process, she realized Jupiter Plains was much simpler to investigate than Prescott’s business. For one thing, it was only a fraction of the size of the larger, more complex Eastway-Berkley.

Trixie was deep in review when her cell phone distracted her from the task at hand.

“Belden,” she answered absently, her eyes focused on a financial spreadsheet.

“Freckles! Loverboy here. You busy tonight?” Dan’s voice was full of barely-suppressed mirth.

“Cute, Mangan. Really, cute. I’m working, what’s up?” She glanced around, wondering how private the tiny office really was.

“Meet me for lunch?” he suggested.

“I can’t. I’ve got a lunch appointment with the boss man and his wife. I take it you talked to Jim.”

“Yeah, how ‘bout you meet me for supper then?”

Trixie paused. “Are you trying to throw fuel on the fire or do you have something else in mind?”

Dan snorted. “Running scared from a little bit of gossip and scandal, Belden? I thought you had more backbone than that.”

“Of course not!” Her indignant rebuttal was accompanied by a toss of her sandy curls. Dan couldn’t see it, but he knew the gesture was made all the same. She slammed the top of her laptop down with more force than necessary, giving Dan her undivided attention. “What’s up, Daniel?”

“I’ll tell you tonight. Can you meet about six or so?”

“Where?”

“I’ll come pick you up,” he suggested.

“Dan –” she started, but Dan interrupted before she could continue.

“I’ll pick you up, Beatrix.” It was no longer a suggestion. It was an order. “Get back to work. They aren’t paying you to talk to Mr. Long Lean Loverboy.”

Before she could do anything more than snort, he had disconnected the call. She sighed and returned her focus back to the information on her laptop.

 

 

By the time the working day ended, Trixie felt she had a handle on the work to be completed that week at Jupiter Plains. The job would be a breeze compared to the amount of data she had sifted through the week before. She already had a page full of problems that Warren Mortimer needed to address in his operation, and it was apparent why there were so many. Warren didn't have a top notch talent running his information technology department. Ross Johnson, the CIO of Jupiter Plains, was mediocre at best. But the business side appeared sound, similar what she had seen at Eastway-Berkley, and she was left wondering why someone like Warren would risk the healthy profits brought in each quarter by his sales team.

She hurried home, choosing to walk instead of taking a taxi in an attempt to avoid the traffic jams. She hoped to make it there in time to change into more comfortable clothing for dinner out. Arriving at her apartment door with fifteen minutes to spare, she hurried to ditch the trim business skirt for black jeans, leaving on the tailored jacket and comfortable sweater she had worn to report for work that morning. She was changed in record time and had added a chunky bracelet by the time her buzzer sounded.

“A Detective Mangan here to see you, Ms. Belden,” Carl announced in his stiff formal voice.

Trixie bit back a laugh. “Tell him I’m on my way down, Carl.” She grabbed her coat and her purse as she headed out the door, knowing Dan was deliberately teasing her by using his official title with the doorman. Without even seeing the scene, she knew he had flashed his detective shield.

“Where are we going?” Trixie asked as she exited the elevator and saw Dan pacing.

“For now, right out front. I didn’t expect you to be ready,” he admitted, grabbing her arm and escorting her out of the lobby to the curb.

“Why not? I’m hungry and you said six,” Trixie protested. “Let me get my coat on.”

“You won’t need it,” he told her glancing up the road. “Our ride’s here.”

The long black limo pulled up to the curb, and with a nod from Dan, Carl hastened to open the door. “Don’t forget to smile for the cameras, Trixie,” Dan whispered in her ear as she moved to slide into the warm limo.

“You look nice,” the familiar voice spoke with a smile.

“Jim!” she exclaimed, scooting closer to the handsome redhead and leaning towards him for a kiss. “Do you want to explain what’s going on?”

“I didn’t get a greeting like that,” Dan complained. “All I got was she was hungry.”

Trixie grinned. “You picked me up just to see if anyone would take a picture, didn’t you?” she demanded of Dan as she snuggled deep into the warm leather seats of the limo, relaxing as Jim picked up her hand and held it.

“Yeah,” Dan answered. “Just a little experiment of mine. Jim agreed to go along after we talked. We both thought we’d see if it was a onetime thing or not.” Dan glanced out the back window. “That’s not the same doorman from Friday, is it?”

“No, Carl works nights,” Trixie said. “Friday was...” she hesitated for a second, “Malcolm, if I remember correctly. Why?”

Dan shrugged. “The picture angle makes me think they would have seen the photographer. Charlie thinks so, too.”

“You’ve talked to Charlie about this?” Trixie’s irritation was clear to both gentlemen.

“Yeah, needed to know my legal rights and all that kind of shit,” Dan muttered. He had warned Jim about taking things too far without consulting Trixie.

“Okay, spill it. What exactly have you two done?” The china blue eyes blazed back and forth at the two men who both tried to look innocent. “Where are we going for dinner?”

“You’re not the only person who knows how to investigate,” Dan replied at the same time Jim answered, “The Flatiron Tavern.”

Trixie didn’t know which one of them to respond to first. She finally looked at Jim. “The Flatiron is one of the most popular nightspots in Manhattan. Why there?”

“If anyone at all is interested in what’s going on, our dinner tonight will be in gossip columns by tomorrow night.”

“Okay,” she tossed her head and glared at Dan. “Detective Mangan, what did your investigation reveal?”

“The pictures were sold to The Squawker -- they weren’t taken by their staff or any of their regular photographers.”

Trixie stared, digesting this bit of news. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Dan rolled his eyes. “I just did. If you hadn’t had lunch plans, I would’ve told you then. Give me a break, Trix. We couldn’t have left you out for very long.”

“And tonight? It’s a set-up?” she asked, her eyes darting back and forth.

“Yeah. If you have a stalker, we think there’ll be more pictures.” Dan answered.

“How did you get the editors at The Squawker to cooperate?” She wondered.

“Cut ‘em a deal,” Dan answered. “They get to send a photographer to some other events they were excluded from.”

“That stinks!” Trixie complained.

“It won’t matter, Trix,” Jim answered. He didn’t like the solution any better than she did, but he believed it was worth it to find out if Trixie was being watched. “We all know they’ll be there. You, Dan, all of us. We’re not planning to give them anything to write about.”

“Of course we’re not!” she snapped. “But that doesn’t mean they won’t find a way to catch us in an embarrassing situation!”

“Come on, Trix,” Dan interrupted this time. “It’s better to have their cooperation for now. If you have a stalker, they could be your best friend.”

“Fine. You realize now you’re going to have to find a date to the fundraiser? No more going stag.” Trixie crossed her arms, shooting a fulminating look at Dan.

“Yeah, don’t worry I’ll get a date. Di knows plenty of single girls. You probably know some of them. She mentioned one, Kitty Buchanan.”

Jim smothered a laugh as Trixie sputtered. “Come on, you two. We’re here.” He looked between the two of them. Dan’s eyes were dancing with laughter while Trixie was doing her best to compose herself. “The curtain’s going up. Break a leg, okay?”

 

 

The drive home was quiet. The food and atmosphere at Flatiron Tavern had been superb. The three of them were full of the comfort gourmet cuisine and that, combined with the bottle of wine they had polished off, made them all quiet and reflective. None of them had noticed anything unusual, although Jim had arranged for seats by the front window, in effect putting the three of them on display for the evening.

The limousine dropped them in front of the apartment building. Trixie was tired as she walked into the building, but still managed a smile at Carl when she entered.

Jim and Dan both just nodded, and the trio strolled leisurely to the elevator. Dan gave Trixie a surreptitious nudge. “Say, Trixie. I’m going to make a quick phone call. I’ll be up in a minute.”

Trixie nodded. “There are some phone kiosks over there,” she nodded her head across the lobby. “They offer some privacy if you need it.”

Dan noted they offered exactly the kind of cover he needed while scoping out the lobby.

Jim and Trixie headed upstairs while Dan moved to make a call. Deciding to check voicemail, he entered the middle kiosk and turned to survey the lobby while he listened to his messages. “Damn!” he swore almost immediately as he glanced around. Unless he was way off base, the picture of him and Trixie had been taken from one of the three stalls. After listening to the first message, he ended the call but left the phone next to his ear, muttering occasionally to give the appearance of conversation. He turned and started searching the phone booth he was standing in, wondering if there were a hidden camera. Coming up empty handed, and not wanting to draw any unnecessary attention to his way, he disconnected and stared at his phone. He made another call and listened to the rest of his voice messages. He wanted to see if anyone else approached the phone kiosks.

Upstairs, Trixie shrugged off her jacket and took Jim’s coat, hanging it on the coat rack.

“Dinner was nice,” she murmured, giving a lazy, languid stretch. “Great wine.”

“Silver Oak Napa Valley Cabernet Sauvignon, 2002,” Jim answered, “You’re right, it’s a good wine.”

“We didn’t set you back too much, did we?” Trixie asked, turning to encircle Jim’s waist with her arms. “You know we would’ve pitched in, or we could have gone Dutch.”

Jim grinned, “I think I can afford a dinner, Trix.”

“Yeah, but you’re the only one of the three of us who’s currently unemployed,” Trixie teased. “You should have at least let us get the tip.”

“I can afford to take my special girl to dinner. Of course, Mr. uh, Loverboy, deliberately ordered the most expensive thing on the menu.” Jim grinned. “I think he was thinking of putting it on an expense account at the time!”

Dan and Jim had done the typical he-man fighting over the check, mostly for show in the event someone had been watching. Jim had won. Trixie leaned into Jim, rubbing her cheek on his soft shirt. “How long before Dan comes up?” she wondered.

“Not near long enough,” he grumbled, leaning down to give her a kiss. “You know the minute we start anything; he’ll be knocking on the door.”

Trixie giggled. “Of course, but you don’t mind if we take advantage of what time we do have, do you?”

Jim picked her up so her face was directly in front of his, and stared at her. Her legs automatically wrapped around his waist. “I don’t mind at all.” He carried her into the kitchen and sat her on the table.

Trixie looked around. “The kitchen?” she asked.

“It’s the only room you can’t see into from the front door besides the bedroom,” Jim explained. “It gives us a few seconds if Dan doesn’t bother to wait for you to open the door.”

“Nice logic, Frayne.” Trixie’s arms wound around his neck, and she leaned in for a thoroughly tantalizing kiss. “I like the way you think, but I locked the door.”

“I like the way you think,” Jim replied, his green eyes gleaming.

“Did anyone ever tell you what a great kisser you are?” Trixie murmured a few moments later, when Jim stopped.

“Not that I remember,” Jim said. “Of course, it probably has everything to do with who I’m kissing.”

“Do you really think so? Kiss me again,” Trixie requested. “Let me see.”

Jim claimed her lips again. This time the tip of his tongue moved to caress smooth enamel before dancing with Trixie’s tongue. He deepened the kiss, his arms pulling her close so she could feel the rise of his chest with each breath. One hand moved to entangle itself in her sandy curls.

Jim paused a moment later, taking a deep breath in order to maintain some control. He looked at Trixie. “That kiss was priceless.”

She shook her head in response, pulling his head back towards her. “Not fair, kissing is free.”

“And a damn good thing it is,” he muttered. His hands moved to run a finger along the v-neckline of her sweater, enjoying the small swell of breast that were exposed, and he noticed her shiver.

“Jim, I think –” Trixie started, but just then the phone rang.

“Not again!” Jim groaned before giving her an apologetic look. “Sorry, Trix. There’s just something about your phone.”

“It’s Dan.” She scooted off the table and moved toward the phone on the wall in her kitchen. “He’s probably trying to give fair warning.” She picked up the receiver. “Hello.”

“Hey, Freckles.” The familiar voice was brusque. “I needed to make another call while I checked things out. What’s happening upstairs?”

“Not much. We can’t exactly see anything from up here,” Trixie replied with a snort.

“Huh! I thought Frayne was a faster worker than that,” Dan said, irreverence filling his voice. “No one’s used the phones, so I’m heading your way.”

He disconnected without giving her a chance to answer. “I hate it when he does that!” Trixie muttered, returning the phone to its cradle.

“Does what?” Jim asked, leaning back against the counter. He fleetingly wondered if it would best tonight if he kept his distance from the petite blonde.

“Makes a clever, cutting comment and then disconnects before I can say anything,” Trixie fumed.

Jim couldn’t resist her and crossed the kitchen, pulling her into a hug. “I can only imagine. Come on, Trix. I take it he’s on his way up.”

“Yeah. I take it you two think you need to leave together,” Trixie reasoned.

Jim nodded. His hand moved to caress her cheek, giving her a concerned look. “Trixie, in all seriousness, you’re going to be extra careful, right? Cabs only after dark, paying close attention, that kind of thing.”

“Jim –” she started, irritated with him before she stopped. “Let me unlock the door for Dan.” She didn’t want to admit it, but she needed the few seconds to compose her thoughts. It would be so easy to take his concern for control. She took a deep breath, realizing she knew more about this case and what might be going on than she had told either Jim or Dan. When she stepped back in the kitchen she looked at Jim. “I’m going to be extra careful,” she promised.

“Hey!” Dan knocked and opened the door. Surprised he didn’t see them, he called out. “Where are you, two? Don’t tell me I’m interrupting something?”

“In the kitchen,” she called out, muttering “spoilsport” under her breath.

Dan walked in with a cheeky grin. “You two come to any great conclusions?”

Trixie shook her head. “Learn anything?”

“Yeah. That picture was taken from the phone kiosks,” Dan answered. “I checked the second one. It’s clean for hidden cameras. Do you think you can manage to unobtrusively check out the third one? Jim’s going to check the first one on our way out.”

“I am?” Jim asked.

“Yep, you’re going to get a call as soon as we exit the elevator. Trixie’s going to ring your cell phone. And you’re going to hold up a finger, asking me to give you a minute, while you go to the first phone kiosk and check it out. That way you and Trix can say all your mushy goodnight stuff and I won’t have to hear it.”

Trixie crossed her arms and gave Dan a look.

He responded with a mischievous grin. “What?” he held his hands up in protest, shrugging. “Did you already say all that mushy goodnight stuff?”

 

 

“Aren’t you supposed to be attending a meeting in less than ten minutes?” Trixie asked. Her question was directed to the broad-shouldered back of a supple red-haired man who was exchanging crumpled bills for a fully-loaded hot dog. Both of them were standing within a block of the Wheeler’s Central Park Apartment Building.

The man turned and gave her a guilty grin. “Yeah, I am. If I share this with you, will you promise to keep it a secret?”

Trixie shook her head. “No thanks. Not with all those onions. But a kiss before you start eating that mess might be a get-out-of-jail free card.”

Jim towered over Trixie, a glint in his green eyes; he bent his head down and somehow managed to make her blood pound with the short, but incredibly sweet kiss.

“Are you sure you don’t want a bite?” he asked one more time.

Trixie shook her head again. “Go for it!” She smiled as she watched Jim wolf down the foot-long chili dog in record time.

“For some reason I was under the mistaken impression your mother was serving lunch at today’s meeting,” Trixie commented.

“She is,” Jim answered, wiping his fingers on the small napkin. “But you and I both know it’s going to be quiche. All that frou frou food is fine for you girls, but man cannot live on quiche alone. We gotta have some meat.”

“You’re starting to sound like Mart,” Trixie said. “Except he would have eaten two hot dogs instead of one, and then had a plate full of, uh, frou-frou food.”

Jim gave her a mocking glare. “Trixie, do not think of me like your brother!”

She gave him a tiny smile, pulling her gloved hands out of her pockets and reaching for one of his. “For what it’s worth, I don’t think of you like a brother. But speaking of the brotherly types, have you heard from Dan?”

Jim shook his head. “He told me we shouldn’t expect to hear anything before three. His contact at The Squawker promised to let him know right before they go to publish.” Jim reached in his pocket for a roll of breath mints and offered her one.

She took one with a smile, looking up at him. “Funny how you forgot to mention you had these earlier.”

His wide, teasing grin was answer enough. “Let’s go. We don’t want to be late.”

 

 

“I was beginning to wonder if you were going to be late,” Grace Wheeler reproved as she motioned for the young maid to take Trixie’s coat.

“Just not early.” Jim smiled at his mother before dropping a kiss on her cheek.

“Yes, well, we’re ready to get started.”

“Mitsy!” Trixie exclaimed as she left Jim’s side to greet her newest friend. “It’s good to see you!” She embraced the younger girl in a hug. “Do you know Diana Lynch -- excuse me.” She paused to correct herself and shot an apologetic look at Di. “I mean Diana Belden, my friend first and my sister-in-law more recently.”

“Yes, of course.” Mitsy gave a pleasant smile. “You work over at the Met. A curator, right?”

“Well, just a lowly assistant curator right now,” Di admitted with a smile. “But it’s a start. I love it there.”

“I can only imagine. It must be fabulous to work around all those wonderful exhibits.”

“It is,” Di grinned. “Did I understand right that you work in the family business?”

“Yes.” Mitsy waived a hand in a dismissive manner. “But spreadsheets and statements can’t compete with paintings and sculptures.”

The three girls seemed oblivious to the covert glances and stares. More than one society matron was guilty of reading Page Six and the associated gossip rags.

After BeBe Mortimer breezed in with greetings, Grace Wheeler had everyone take their seats. Trixie found herself sitting between Di and Mitsy, not quite able to keep herself from tugging on the short skirt.

Jim had ended up across from her, between his mother and Carol Lynch. He immediately noticed the skirt tug and the nylon-encased legs. He appreciated how the short skirt had managed to inch its way up Trixie’s thigh. The view was quite tantalizing, and he allowed himself a few seconds of fantasy as to what she might be wearing under the short skirt before his mother gave him a surreptitious nudge.

“Pay attention, dear. You can look later.” Grace Wheeler spoke soft enough that only he could hear her. Her obvious knowledge of what he had been looking at caused Jim to flush, but her calm, unflappable demeanor never betrayed a whisper of what she had witnessed. She started the meeting in her smooth and gracious manner.

“Ladies, I can’t thank you enough for helping us,” Grace started, leaning forward to pick up a stack of ivory-colored paper. The heavy, creamy pages were passed around, and Trixie repressed a sigh as she saw her name along with Diana’s, Mitsy’s and Kitty Buchanan’s under “Music”. “We’re responsible for the music?” she whispered to Di.

“Hush. Yes. Mummy said they don’t want it to be boring and staid, so they put the four of us responsible.”

“Well I hope you two know what you’re doing,” Trixie murmured, “Because, I sure don’t.”

Mitsy patted her knee, her brown eyes twinkling. “Piece of cake. Just smile and act like we have it under control. As long as we don’t book a grunge band we’ll be fine.”

Trixie did her best not to snort, but ended up with a coughing fit. Mitsy and Di expressed concern as Trixie excused herself, but they exchanged grins across her empty seat when she left to get a glass of water.

“Grunge band?” Di commented in a low voice, settling back in her chair.

“I guess I didn’t know she had her heart set on one,” Mitsy said, her eyes wide and her voice full of mock innocence.

“You know, Mitsy – I like you,” Di said sweetly. “In fact, I like you a lot.”

“Mutual, sweetie. Absolutely mutual.”