Confidential

I'll keep it confidential
Each secret confidential
It may come as some surprise
But I can stay secret from prying eyes
So don't worry, I'll keep it confidential
between you and me.

 

“Now twirl,” David demanded. “And not like a plow mule, like a runway model.”

Trixie rolled her eyes but complied with his request.

“What shoes are you planning on wearing?”

“Silver pumps. They’re closed-toe, so do I really have to get a pedicure?” The blue eyes twinkled at her friend.

“Egad, Beatrix!” David exclaimed, shaking his head sadly. “What are you going to come up with next? Yes, you absolutely must get a mani-pedi, a facial, leg wax, the works.” He peered at her more closely. “You need a facial, sweetheart. You’re looking decidedly tired these days.”

Trixie shook her head, unsurprised that David had noticed. Jim had refused to stay the night prior, citing the dark circles under her eyes. He had left her apartment after she promised to go straight to bed and sleep in the following morning.

“At least you won’t have to worry so much tonight. The gala is at Wollman Rink, and the lighting will be very kind.”

“Good grief, David. You talk like I’m an absolute hag,” Trixie complained.

“Really!” The word came out in a huff of air as his hands moved to his hips. He gave her a hard stare until she squirmed uncomfortably. “You’re getting there, Bea. Now, stand still while Marcie pins this dress.” David could be quite insistent. “While she’s doing her thing, you simply must tell me why you’re working so hard.”

Trixie relaxed. For some reason talking with David Steward was easy and she found herself talking to him as she would to Honey or Diana. “Business is booming,” she admitted. “We’ve got people calling all day wanting our help with everything from lost dogs to security reviews.”

“Mummy told me about your firm finding Mrs. Randolph’s prized pup,” he said. “She said it was quite the talk at the club last week.” His eyes focused on the hem of the dress, and he spoke to Marcie. “Don’t you think we should have her put on some heels before we decide on the length?”

“Whatever you think best,” she replied. “We’ve got shoes in the back to match the height she’ll be wearing. I just need to know what size and how high they are.”

“Size six and three inch heels,” Trixie interjected.

“Beeaaatrix,” David admonished. “I told you, four inch heels were the minimum you should wear in the evening. You’re just too short for anything else.”

“I know, David, but I’m part of the welcoming committee and I’m going to be standing most of the night. I’m not wearing four inch heels all night long.” She didn’t tell him she had picked the shoes because of the ability to secrete a transmitter in the pointed toe of the shoe. Between the transmitter and the glittery chandelier earrings she had found, she’d be able to stay in radio contact with her team and no one would be the wiser. “Besides, you told me you can never go wrong with Italian shoes!”

Marcie stood to go and retrieve the shoes. “She does have a point,” she advised as she began to walk towards the back.

“Yes, well, I suppose that I may have said something like that at one time,” David conceded with a sniff. “There are some special circumstances for this event.”

“You better believe it,” she muttered. Trixie turned and looked over her shoulder at the back of the dress. She had to admit, David had found the perfect dress for her. The design flattered her athletic figure. “What kind of dress did you say this was again?”

“Vintage,” he replied. “Vintage designer, and it’s perfect for you. The only thing I’m wondering about is this wrap.”

“I like the wrap,” she admitted, waving it at him. “It can get cold at these events, and it’s the perfect weight.”

“But the black,” he muttered. “The black is all wrong for you. You need color.” He folded his arm and propped his elbow on his hand as he studied her. “Do you have any idea what color tie your fiancé is wearing?”

“For the last time,” she said through gritted teeth. “Jim is not my fiancé. Are you going to let it go or what?”

“He may not be your fiancé right now, darling …” David turned to pick a sapphire blue wrap from the rack and hold it up to her. “… but after he sees you in this dress, he will be!”

 

 

Trixie felt relaxed for the first time in weeks. She had never expected a fundraiser to be as much fun as this one. Both she and Jim had donned their skates as soon as they arrived and hit the ice. They found themselves skating with Olympic champions and professional skaters. The pros demonstrated some simple moves that looked anything but simple when performed. After a half-hour had passed, Trixie noticed a familiar face standing at the side of the rink. She gave Jim a nudge. “That’s Reid Beckhart.” She gave a quick nod towards the edge of the rink. “Let’s go say hello.”

Hand-in-hand, the pair skated to the sidelines, where Reid stood with a petite, young teenager. “Good evening, Reid,” Trixie smiled. “Have you met my friend, Jim Frayne?”

Reid automatically extended his hand and smiled. “Nice to finally meet you. Beatrix tells me that I need to write a big check to you in a couple of weeks.”

“Big checks are always welcome when you’re starting a charitable foundation,” Jim answered with a smile of his own. “But they aren’t required. Tri – Beatrix has told me quite a bit about you. I take it this is your daughter?”

“Beth, this is Beatrix Belden and Jim Frayne. Associates and friends.”

The teenager smiled, flashing neon green braces in an engaging smile. “Nice to meet you.”

“Where’s Allison?” Trixie inquired politely.

“She had to bow out at the last minute. I’m afraid that’s left Beth here without a skating partner. “

“Nonsense!” Jim said, waving an arm towards the rinks. “All those professional skaters are just waiting for partners. Trixie ditched me in a flash to skate with that Russian Olympic champion.”

“I did not,” Trixie protested, punching him lightly on the arm. “But he’s right, Beth. Why don’t you skate around the rink a couple of times with Jim to warm-up? Then we’ll make sure you get introduced you to some of the professionals here tonight.”

“Do you know Jenny Brakeless?” Beth asked her eyes wide with excitement.

“We met her earlier tonight,” Jim answered. “Trix, uh, Beatrix told her there was going to be a huge fan here later.”

“You’ve met her?” Beth breathed in awe.

Jim nodded. “She’s very nice.”

“Do you mind, Dad?” she asked, her brown eyes shining.

“Please go. I’ll just go find something hot to drink.”

He watched as Jim and Beth skated off. He then turned to Trixie and expressed his thanks.

She waved it off carelessly. “That’s just Jim. He’s big on positive role models for kids.” She eyed his skates, noticing the shiny blades. “Can I persuade you to take a turn around the rink?” she asked.

He shook his head. “I’d much rather convince you to go with me and find a stiff drink.”

Laughing, Trixie held out her hand. “Two turns around the ice and we’ll go in search of some hot rum toddies. Although I did hear someone earlier talking about a hot apple cider with whiskey that would warm you up from the inside out.”

“Do you know how long it’s been since I had a pair of skates of my feet? Not to mention, I was on my backside more than I was my feet even back then.”

“Come on. It’s fun. Besides, if you don’t try it, how will you write that fancy computer program to teach people how to ice skate?”

“There are photographers everywhere,” he grumbled.

“Live and let live, Reid.” Trixie grabbed his hand and tugged. “Does it really matter? Just relax and have fun.”

“Okay, then. Let’s go. But I hereby put you on notice that when I bring you down with me, I am relieved of all liability, either direct or indirect.”

“Oooo, Reid’s been meeting with his lawyers today,” Trixie teased. “Agreed. No liability.” She tossed her head confidently. “And if you make it around the rink without falling, then you have to add another figure to the hefty check you’re going to write for Jim’s school.”

“Deal!” he muttered as he let go of the wall with his other hand. Pushing slightly with one foot, he rocked unsteadily to maintain his balance. Trixie turned to skate backwards, making certain she had a firm grasp on both his hands. She skated slowly, giving simple instructions.

“Just stand,” she advised. “Until you get your balance, let me pull you.”

He nodded and pushed all thoughts of their earlier discussion about who had broken into his system out of his head. After his fight with Allison earlier that evening, all he wanted was a stiff drink. But this was a start. He ignored the flash of the camera, and carefully bent his knees slightly at the first turn in the rink, holding his breath as Trixie picked up her speed. At least Beth is happy about tonight, he thought. Allison can avoid me all she wants, but I’m going to find out what she was doing mucking around in my system one way or another!

 

 

“Did you enjoy skating with Olympic champions?” Trixie and Jim entered the lobby of her apartment building.

“I did.” The day away from the job had rejuvenated her. Pushing the elevator up button, she smiled. “It’s good to have a day off.”

“You’re not kidding,” Jim admitted. As the elevator doors closed behind them, he leaned down and dropped a kiss on the top of her head. “It’s even better to have a day off to spend with you.”

The subsequent embrace lasted until they arrived at the seventeenth floor. They reluctantly broke apart as the doors opened. Jim grinned at her. “It’s nice that the paparazzi can’t get into the elevator.” He took Trixie’s key and opened her door.

Dropping her skates as soon as she was inside the door, Trixie turned to him and smiled. “The paparazzi can’t get into my apartment either.”

Jim pinned her up against the door as he kissed her again. “Do you know what skating tonight reminded me of?” he murmured against her throat.

She shook her head in reply.

“Remembering what it felt like to be jealous of another guy paying attention to my special girl.”

“When did that happen?” She barely managed to get the words out, as Jim’s lips demanded more. His hands pulled at her sweater, seeking the feel of her warm skin.

“In Iowa. Tonight when that Russian figure skating guy kept asking you to skate, I felt just like I did when Ned Schultz did the same thing.”

Trixie gave him a push. “And Jenny Brakeless did the same thing to you. Just like Dot Murray.”

“Not even close, Trix,” he protested. “Jenny was doing us a favor because we told her about Beth Beckhart. You know that.”

“Well if it helps, Aleksi doesn’t speak English.” She glanced away for a moment and then looked up into Jim’s eyes. “And Aleksi doesn’t make sure I eat something before he brings me home after two weeks of twelve-hour days. He doesn’t understand about juggling security reviews for clients or what it’s like when your oldest friend and your boyfriend’s mother suspect you’re secretly engaged to her son. He didn’t make sure a young girl spent some time with her skating idol, and I’m almost certain he can’t whistle. I did ask him, but I don’t think he understood what I meant by whistle.”

“You did it again.” Jim kissed her again before taking a step back.

“What?” She looked at him questioningly. “What did I do again?”

“You dropped the “E” bomb. Then you just keep on talking as if it’s nothing. “

“What’s the “E” bomb?” Her brow knit in confusion.

“Beatrix Belden!” He ground his teeth in a vain attempt to control his temper. “You just mentioned it again. E is for engagement! That the gossip du jour is our alleged engagement and that it is so rampant one of our closest friends thinks it could be true.”

“Oh, that!” She shrugged as she slipped under his arms, away from the door, and into the kitchen. “It’s just gossip.”

Jim followed her, seething at her reluctance to continue the discussion about their relationship from the previous evening. He said nothing as she grabbed a bottle of water and then, after staring at the refrigerator a few moments, shut the door.

“Did you really think we weren’t going to finish talking about this?”

Trixie stifled her first thought. “Of course I knew we would talk sooner or later,” she replied.

He waited for her to look at him. “Trix, what’s so complicated that you don’t want our relationship to move forward?”

Trixie carefully took a sip of water and sat the bottle on the counter. “Lots of things,” she answered. “I’m in the middle of starting a business I’ve wanted for fifteen years. You’re in the middle of starting a school, something you’ve dreamed of just as long. We’re both trying to build our future,” she spoke slowly, taking time to measure her words. “Your school. My business. Your house. My partnership with Honey. Your fundraiser.” Trixie ticked the items off on her fingers as she spoke.

Jim held up a hand to stop her. “All of those are important. But I swear to you, Trix, for me, not one of those things you mentioned is more important than us.”

Trixie stared at her bottle of water as if it might contain the answer.

Jim continued. “Last time it was me. I admit that ten years ago I wasn’t willing to commit because of timing and distance. It was imperative to me that we both be sure. This time it’s you, and I want to know why you’re unwilling to commit.”

She sighed and pushed the bottle of water away. “If we mess this up, it’s going to be a lot bigger and messier than your friend Mike and his fiancée. You can’t move away because of your school. I can’t move away because of my business. We’ll be stuck living in close proximity with our siblings, who’ll be married to each other, so we’ll always be connected by our families.”

“You think those are complications?” Jim was incredulous. “I think they make our lives simpler.” He reached for her hand giving it a tender squeeze.

“It won’t be simple if something happens like happened to your friend Mike,” she protested. “There are no guarantees. I’ll do something to mess things up and …” She shrugged.

“You’re right, there are no guarantees,” he agreed. “But Honey and Brian could break up. Then what happens? We stop being friends because of them?”

“Of course not.”

He continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “Would you stop being friends with Diana if she and Mart split?”

Trixie opened her mouth to answer but he didn’t give her an opportunity to speak.

“Look at Dan. You’re still friends with Dan. He split up with your own cousin after dating her for a year. You worked things out with him. So did Mart and Brian.”

“If you dump me …” she started and then shook her head. “Never mind.”

“I’m not going to dump you,” he said. “You are definitely not Eliza. You would never cheat on me and I’m not ever going to cheat on you.”

Trixie’s jaw dropped. “Are you saying that Eliza cheated on Mike?” she whispered in surprise.

Jim held up a hand. “It’s not my story to tell, but yes, Mike believes that Eliza did cheat on him, in the worst sort of way. When it comes to you and me, we’re not cheaters. We won’t keep secrets from each other.”

Trixie shook her head. A profound sense of sadness pervaded her soul. “Oh yes, we will. We’re both probably keeping secrets from the other right now. At least, I know that I am.”

Jim took her water bottle and sat it on the counter. Grasping both her hands in one of his, he cautiously caressed her cheek, forcing her to look at him.

“It’s like this. Eliza cheated on Mike with his father. He caught them together, and his Dad had a heart attack during the, uh, confrontation that ensued. I’m pretty sure that’s the only secret I’m keeping from you, but to be fair that really wasn’t my secret, although Mike did say I could tell you.”

Trixie’s eyes grew damp. She blinked several times before she managed to croak. “My secrets aren’t mine to share.”

“Then if they’re not your secrets, you’re not keeping them from me, are you?”

“What?” she stammered. “What did you say?”

“You heard me,” he answered. “Look, Trixie, it’s not a secret if you’re keeping information confidential for a client, or former employer, whatever,” he waved his hand impatiently as if to dismiss it as unimportant. “That information is their secret. You have a job that’s going to expose you to a significant amount of confidential information. I’m going to have a school full of students who have a significant amount of history and confidential information that I won’t be able to discuss with you. That’s not keeping secrets from each other. That’s respect. Respect for each other and the jobs we have. I’m not expecting you to tell me about confidential information on your cases. I’m pretty sure you’re not going to expect me to tell you any confidential information about my students.” He stopped and pointed a finger at her. “Are you?”

“No,” she answered.

“There you go. Discretion is not about keeping secrets from each other.” He smiled, and dropped a kiss on her forehead. “Do you have any real secrets?”

“What’s a real secret?” she asked, still unsure of exactly what Jim was trying to tell her.

“Oh, you know.” Jim waved a hand. “A secret love child from college, maybe a flaming affair with a married professor, or …” He paused and waited for her to look at him again. “Maybe that you’re not interested in the boy next door and wish he’d just leave you alone.”

Realization dawned on Trixie. She smiled at him as relief washed over her. “No flaming affairs, no love child, and the boy next door better not even think about leaving me alone.” She rose up out on her toes, brushing Jim’s lips with her own. “What about you, Frayne? Do you have a secret love child?”

“Now that I think about it, there is one secret I’ve been keeping from you,” he admitted.

“Is it a boy or a girl?” she teased.

Jim shook his head. “It really is a secret. It’s about my school.”

“Oh?” She quirked a questioning eyebrow at him.

He took a deep breath. “The name of my school is Frayler Academy.”

“What?” She squeezed his shoulders. “What did you say it was?” She had not had a chance to bet in the Bob-White pool on the name of Jim’s school.

“Frayler Academy. It’s a combination of the surnames Frayne and Wheeler. That way, I can honor both my dads.” He pulled her closer, his arms going around her before dropping his lips to hers. “It’s hard to believe, but do you realize that Matthew’s been around longer than my biological father?”

“No, it doesn’t seem possible,” she admitted.

“That’s the big secret. But you can’t tell the rest of the Bob-Whites. And you sure as heck can’t tell my parents.” He kissed her again.

Trixie smiled, as she pulled back from his kiss. “Sounds good to me. It’ll be our secret.”

 

 

Trixie frowned as the phone rang. The interruption was unexpected in the wee hours of the morning and she reluctantly began the process of entangling herself from Jim’s rather passionate embrace.

“Ignore it,” he mumbled into her neck. “They can leave a message.”

“But who would call me at this hour?” She glanced over at the phone and sighed. Slipping from his arms, she gave him an apologetic look. “Sorry.” Fumbling for the phone, she frowned at the caller ID display. “It’s Dan!”

“I’m going to kill him!” Jim crushed one of the cushions from her couch to relieve his frustration.

“I can’t imagine why he would call this late!” She clicked the answer button.

“What’s up, Dan?” Trixie’s imagination began to take flight and she swallowed hard. “Is everything okay? Are Mart and Di okay?”

“Check. The family and friends are fine. Look, Trix, this conversation is off the record. Understand?”

“What are you talking about?”

“You and me. We aren’t having this conversation, understand?”

Trixie pushed a hand through her unruly curls, and took a deep breath. It was an adjustment from ardent passion to panic to what now seemed to be an inside tip from a friend on the police force. She took a deep breath. “Understand. What is it?”

‘Your client, the new one, Reid Beckhart …” He paused.

“Yeah, what about him?” she asked. She walked back to the couch and caught Jim’s concerned look as she sat next to him.

“His lawyer’s that guy that likes to fondle your butt.”

“Mangan!” The warning was clear. Trixie felt Jim’s arm move around her shoulder and squeeze in a gesture of reassurance.

“Yeah, well … I still get steamed about that picture. Anyway, his lawyer recognized me at a crime scene tonight.”

“Look, Dan that stuff’s ancient history. Just tell me what’s going on with Charlie.”

“Whoa, Belden. Give me a second. What I’m going to tell you is nothing you wouldn’t hear at the press conference.”

“Press conference? What press conference?”

“The one the commissioner’s holding in a few hours to confirm to the press that Allison Beckhart was murdered.”

“Murdered?” She felt her bones turn to jelly, and her hand reached for Jim’s. “I don’t understand.” Trixie took a deep breath, processing the information. “Are you saying that Allison Beckhart has been murdered?”

She felt Jim’s arm move around her shoulder and give her a reassuring squeeze.

“Yeah, that’s what I’m saying. You know how this stuff works. Reid’s automatically a person of interest. The detective in charge is pushing him to come downtown, but he’s apparently got an iron-clad alibi.”

“When … what … how… this doesn’t make any sense!” Trixie stopped and took a deep breath. A million questions ran through her mind and she needed to organize her thinking. “Jim and I just saw Reid and his daughter tonight, along with at least a couple of hundred other people. Damn it, Dan, we skated together. When did this happen?”

“Calm down, Trixie. We’re not having this conversation, remember? This is off the record. Maybe you can convince Prescott to fill you in on the rest of it.”

“I am calm! I’m just trying to understand what’s going on.” The news had shocked her but had also confirmed her suspicions that Allison was the one who had played a role in the tampering of B3’s computer systems. “Is the police commissioner going to announce to the press that Reid Beckhart is a person of interest?”

Dan’s snort put her fears on that front to rest. “Hell, no! Besides his ironclad alibi, he is cooperating fully with the investigation. Except for telling us we’ll have to wait to talk to his kids, we have no complaint. If he hadn’t lawyered up so fast, we’d probably be moving him down the list.”

“Probably not as fast as you think. His lawyer’s one of his closest friends.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Dan paused. “Look, it’s a zoo over here. Homicide’s got the place sealed off. They’re only letting a few people in and they’re not letting anyone out. The housekeeper’s having a fit because it’s her day off and she wants to go home to her own family, not to mention she seems to be genuinely upset. Prescott’s doing all the talking for Beckhart now.” Dan paused. “There’s one more thing, Trix. He wants you to call him.”

“Who wants me to call?”

“Prescott. He said to tell you he needs you to call him.”

“Uh, Dan. What are you doing there? Why are you the messenger? Why didn’t Charlie call me himself? Unless there’s something you haven’t told me, you don’t work homicides.”

“I was in the area when the call came in and one of the first officers on the scene so they stuck me on the door to control access. Charlie recognized me when he arrived, or maybe I should say we recognized each other.” He paused and then continued, “You’ll have to ask Charlie why he didn’t call you. Maybe it’s because it doesn’t look good for your client, Trix.”

“But he was at the same fundraiser that Jim and I were at tonight,” she protested. “How could he have –”

“Yeah, well, you know that husbands and boyfriends are the most likely suspects.” Dan interrupted. “He could have hired someone to do it.”

Frustrated because she was fully aware that statistically the most likely person to have murdered Allison Beckhart was her husband, Trixie pushed a hand through her already unruly curls. “Yes, well, I’m still going out on a limb here and telling you he didn’t do it.” She looked over at Jim. “Listen … thanks. I do appreciate it. I know it goes against policy for you to do a favor like that.”

“Naah, that’s what friends are for.”

Trixie cleared her throat. “Where did you say that press conference was being held?”

“I didn’t. It’s right here, in front of the Beckhart’s house. The Commissioner is going to have the police tow all the news vans that are still here fifteen minutes after the press conference is over. You know how it is with the rich and famous. The mayor’s office is already getting calls about the street being blocked.”

“Thanks. Maybe I’ll see you there.”

“Say, do you know what time it is? You’re not coming down here now, are you?”

“Yes, I am. Or at least in the next twenty minutes.”

“Need a ride? It’s pretty late for you to be out on the street.”

Trixie shook her head. “Thanks, but no thanks, Dan. Jim’s here and I have a feeling that he’ll probably go with me”

“Jim’s there, huh?”

Trixie could detect the amusement in her friend’s voice. “Yes. You got something to say about it, Daniel, then say it.”

“Oh, I got something to say alright, but not to you. Tell Jim I said it’s about damn time.”