Ben

Ben, you're always running here and there
You feel you're not wanted anywhere
If you ever look behind
And don't like what you find
There's something you should know
You've got a place to go

 

The door opened so slowly she gripped her handbag tightly with her left hand and moved her right to her service weapon. She’d knocked, called his name, and banged on the door longer and louder than she wanted to think about. If the doorman showed up to throw her out it wouldn’t surprise her at all. But if that happened, she could demand he call the police for a safety and welfare check. Finally the door opened enough she could see it was him.

“Good grief, Belden. Do you know what time it is?”

“Of course I do!” She pushed inside his apartment, not waiting to be invited. “Do you have company?”

“Just me and Jack,” he replied covering a yawn.

“Jack?” She carefully surveyed the apartment, watching the entrances to his living area.

“Jack Daniels.” He managed a sleepy grin. “Are you sure that you’re awake?”

“Don’t tell me you’ve already started drinking this morning.” Trixie relaxed her hold on her handbag, placed her hands on her hips, and studied Ben Riker carefully. He looked like crap. She was certain he hadn’t shaved in a day or so, not to mention he reeked of alcohol, body odor and something that even a dog would object to sniffing. He desperately needed a shower.

“No, but only because I wasn’t awake. Your phone calls, knocking, and the buzzer managed to take care of that. Face it Belden, even the most refined New York socialite would question your visit at this hour on a Saturday morning unless we’d made a date for the gym.”

“We need to talk and this is the only time we can talk,” she replied curtly.

“Okay, you talk and I’ll drink.” He crossed to the kitchen, his intent clear.

“How about I listen while you explain,” she countered.

Ben shook his head. “I’d rather drink.”

“Why did you give me those code words?”

That was enough to make him hesitate for a moment, but only a moment, before he reached up and opened the cabinet. “What are you talking about, Belden?”

She followed him to the kitchen. “You know what I’m talking about, Ben. You had the code phrase. You used it and pretended to be my undercover contact here in New York. You implied, no wait—” She help up a hand as if to ward off his arguments. “You flat out stated you were working with my agency.”

“In a way I do work for the Belden Wheeler Group,” he replied more cheerfully than she’d expected. “Although, if Honey hasn’t told you yet, I think she plans to fire me.” He slowly unscrewed the top of the bottle of Jack Daniels. The strong scent of the whiskey combined with the early morning hour was enough to make Trixie’s stomach churn.

“Listen to me, Ben. I don’t know what kind of game you think you’re playing but you’re in way over your head on this one. Get dressed and come with me. Let me put you in protective custody until this is over.”

He chuckled then and turned to give her a cheeky grin. “Protective custody from whom, Belden? My cousin? Don’t worry about it, she came to see me yesterday and I think we made up. Anyways, she ended up asking me to go work with her in Chicago to defend that asshole ex-fiancée of hers, Jed.” He spat out the man’s name.

Trixie crossed the room, placed her purse on the counter, and settled into one of his leather bar stools. “At least we agree in our opinion of the ex-fiancée.” She paused for only a moment, looked around quickly and continued. “Make me some coffee, Ben. Please?”

He hesitated and then nodded. “Fair enough.” Twisting the cap closed on the bottle of whiskey he returned it to the open glass shelf above the bar. “Coffee for two, coming up.”

They were both satisfied with silence while Ben made coffee in his elaborate machine. He didn’t bother to ask if she wanted an espresso or cappuccino, but prepared an ordinary pot of coffee. When it was done he poured the fragrant brew into hefty, thick mugs and passed her a carton of half and half along with her cup.

She stopped only long enough to check the expiration date imprinted on the carton and take a sniff to satisfy herself it wasn’t spoiled before adding a healthy amount to her coffee. Once they’d both taken a few sips, she continued took up her topic again.

“I have a pretty good idea who gave you the code phrase,” she started. “If you think you’re protecting him, you’re wrong. He’s going down with the rest of them.”

Ben remained impassive and took another sip of coffee before answering. “If you know, then why are you asking me to tell you who it was?”

He had a point. She hated to admit it but it was true. “Because I’m not sure I can prove it, but you better believe I will. And when I do …”

She didn’t finish. She didn’t need to finish. They both knew she was there because she cared what happened to Benjamin Thomas Riker.

“I think I need to get out of this mess on my own,” he said mildly. “I’m not a Bobwhite and I don’t need rescuing.”

Trixie bit her lip, hard. She needed to stop the tears that threatened. No matter how smart Ben Riker was, there was no way he was going to escape alive from the clutches of a terrorist organization without some help. It simply wasn’t done.

“Allison Beckhart tried to get out on her own. You can see where that got her.”

His eyes narrowed and he acknowledged her point with a brief nod. “I’m not Allison and I’m not foolish enough to let them know I’m getting out … once you solve the case –”

“Ben! Once I solve the case you’ll be arrested with the rest of them. You’ll go to prison for the rest of your life.”

“I’ll make a deal—” He started and stopped when she started shaking her head.

“The U.S. Government does not make deals with terrorists. Don’t you think we’ve learned our lesson on that one? Tell me everything now, Ben. Let me help you.”

He finished his coffee before responding to her offer. He set down the mug and looked her in the eye.

“I need to do it my way.”

“And your way is how, exactly?” she asked daring to hope he was going to work with her.

“Give me three days. I need to fix a couple of things and then I’ll be ready to work with you. I’ll tell you everything.”

“Ben, we don’t have three days! My team is at the point where all we’re doing is putting together the final pieces. We’ll be ready to move no later than Monday morning. We’d move today if it weren’t for Jim’s fundraiser. Besides, what are you going to accomplish in three days that I haven’t already covered?”

“Prove who killed Allison Beckhart,” he replied. “Would that be worth it?”

“Solving Allison’s murder is not part of my case,” she pointed out. “Dan and his colleagues at One Police Plaza might be interested, but the CIB has only a tangential interest.” She waited for a beat and then realized she had to know. “You have proof?” she asked. “What is it?”

He shook his finger at her. “Uhn uh, Belden. I said I could get proof in three days. In fact, I think I might be able to get it tonight, but that will depend upon a few things.”

“Tonight? But tonight is Jim’s fundraiser. What will you … Oh!” She stared at him anxiously.

“Ben, we can’t do anything to interfere with the fundraiser for the school. You need to be careful. Wait until after it’s over. Let me wire you and …”

“My proof, my way. That’s my final offer. Take it or leave it.”

“But Ben –”

She stopped as he shook his head. “You’re asking me to choose between my fiancée and this case and you know it.”

“Maybe I am,” he admitted. “But we both know you’ll pick Jim Frayne over anything and anyone at any time. But I give you my word, I will not do anything to hinder Jim’s shindig tonight, is that fair enough?”

“Not really.” She couldn’t afford to be gracious. All she wanted was his cooperation, but as much as her gut screamed the name of the person who had killed Allison Beckhart, she didn’t have a lick of proof. While Allison’s murder wasn’t her case anyway, she was enough of a detective to want all the loose ends tied up. “You need me, Ben. You don’t want to admit it, but you need my help. Once they realize you’re working against them …” She didn’t need to finish. They both knew to what lengths IRMA would go.

“I’m not going into witness protection, Trixie. I can’t. It would drive me insane.”

“It would keep you alive,” she shot back. “You might be crazy but you’d be alive.”

“Not worth it,” he countered with a shake of his head. “My way, Trix. Take it or leave it.”

“Is it because it’s me?” she asked. “If it’s me, you can work with someone else. Special Agent Tibbs will be willing to step in if you don’t want to work with me. Or if you prefer, I can get Sean Barnes over here to take you to a safe house.”

“It’s not you, Trix. It’s never been you. Let’s face it, I’ve been miserable since my first day working after graduation from law school. I never wanted to be the kind of lawyer my father wanted me to be. I’d rather work in a small town, maybe somewhere down south or in the Midwest, where I could hang out my shingle and handle Betty Sue’s divorce, help Billy Bob figure out how to keep his automobile dealership, and rewrite Crazy Aunt Mary’s will every other week. I’d meet a nice girl, a kindergarten teacher maybe, we’d fall in love and have 2.3 kids, live in an old house in the historic district and have the best house in town on Halloween. Who knows, I might even follow NASCAR racing or the Cubs.” He grinned and shrugged. “But I’d have someone who cared if I was at home at night, not what my win ratio was before the court of appeals.”

“You can still have all that, Ben. I can help you.”

He shook his head. “No. We both know that if I’m in witness protection things won’t be my way. I have to do it my way, Trixie. Take it or leave it.”

Trixie finished her coffee as she contemplated Ben’s ultimatum. “Okay, we’ll do it your way,” she finally spoke. “Now, how can I help?”

 

 

“You’re serious, you want me to be your date?”

Once again Beth Patterson found herself in her father’s apartment talking with her former fiancée. She was participating in conversations that a week ago she’d have never imagined possible, much less probable.

“Yes.” Beth replied. “I want you to be my date at Jim’s fundraiser tonight.” She extended her hands, turning her palms up as she stopped pacing. She shot Mike an earnest look. “You’re going to be there, I’m going to be there …” She shrugged and didn’t finish the sentence. “Beatrix thinks that it will be just the distraction needed. People won’t be able to stop talking about us being there together. It’s been five years.”

“She hates that name,” Mike said.

“What? Who hates what name?” She looked around thinking she must have missed something.

“Trixie. Beatrix. She hates the name Beatrix. She only uses it professionally because she wanted other agents to take her seriously. Apparently, there was a lot of teasing about her nickname.”

“Tell me about it,” she muttered with a roll of her eyes. Her own name had given her plenty of vexation over the years, and she’d answered to every nickname from Betty to Buffy. She resumed her pacing. “She hasn’t asked me to call her Trixie, so I don’t. But she’s right. People will talk, they’ll wonder about what happened five years ago and—”

“Five years, two months, one week and three days,” Mike interrupted. “Haven’t you had enough of people talking about us?”

Beth stopped her pacing again, cocked her head to one side and gave him a puzzled look. “No. I don’t care at all what people think about me. The only people I’ve ever cared about are my dad and you and your parents. Well, your Dad anyway.” She shrugged. “I don’t care what your Mother thinks about me.”

“No, you shouldn’t,” Mike agreed. He hadn’t moved from his spot next to the well-stocked bar. “Listen, are you sure this is Trixie’s idea? Not some ploy you’ve cooked up to get back together with me, because if it is –”

“Michael Cornelius King!” She crossed to face him and slapped her hand on the bar. “How dare you accuse me of concocting some stupid ploy to get back together with you? I’ll have you know that I wouldn’t marry you if you were the last man on earth. Furthermore, what makes you think anyone would want such an indecisive, weak-willed, mama’s boy! Hell, you don’t even have your own place. You come to town and mooch off your friends, you’re too damn cheap to even get a hotel room. Who cares how much the Wheelers are inconvenienced by your arrival and staying with them while they’re in the middle of a huge fundraiser? You sir--” She jabbed his shoulder with her finger to accentuate her point. “You have all the sensitivity of a gnat! If it weren’t for this case, why ….” She stopped, realizing what she’d just said.

“Case?” He grabbed the finger she’d used to jab him. “What case, Beth? What are you talking about?”

“It’s nothing.” She tugged her finger to pull it from his grasp but his grip tightened.

“No,” he shook his head. “Not this time. This time you tell me everything. I mean it Beth. You tell me everything and I’ll go to the damn fundraiser with you. I’ll dance with you, flirt outrageously with you, and even kiss you in front of a photographer if that’s what it takes. But dammit! You will tell me the truth!”

“The truth!” she shouted. “I’ve never told you anything but the truth. Your problem is you don’t want to believe the truth.” She yanked harder, finally freeing her finger, but she didn’t back down or move away. “I have never lied to you, Michael King, and I’m not going to start lying to you now. I can’t tell you about the case. Let’s just say that I’m helping Beatrix with a case and leave it at that.”

“Beatrix works for the CIB,” he pointed out.

“She quit,” she countered.

“She says she quit,” he retorted. “But it doesn’t take much to realize she’s still tied to them somehow. Jim’s known it since she came to New York. Have you?”

“Yes.”

The silence grew as he digested her answer. “You work for the CIB?” he finally said.

“I never said that,” she replied with a toss of hair. “But what if I am?”

“Were you working for them five years ago?”

“Five years or five years, two months, one week and three days? Make up your mind.”

“Damn, you can still remember everything people say, can’t you?”

“Yes. It’s very helpful in my line of work.”

“So you were working for them back then.”

“I never said that either. Besides, what does it matter if I am or if I’m not? What’s it to you? You threw me away, decided I was a lying, cheating, conniving, bitch. Remember?”

He cringed as he remembered the words his mother had flung at her during the incident. It was right after that his father had gone into cardiac arrest, and then it seemed there was no way to find out the truth. She’d tried to explain, but he refused to listen.

“You threw it all away because you wouldn’t believe the truth.” Her voice was quiet again, but her back remained rigid and her chin slightly lifted.

He knew then what he’d always known. She’d told him the truth then and she was telling the truth now. Maybe it was time he did the same.”

“Beth, there’s something you should know about my mother.”

She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. “Whatever,” she muttered.

“My mother was having an affair when my father died. She accused you in order to cover up her own cheating. I found out about the affair, but I still didn’t want to believe you. That’s on me, not you. But I’m working on it. I fired my mother from Kingston.”

“Wh …, wh …, what did you say?” she stuttered staring at him in disbelief.

“Yesterday, I fired my mother from Kingston. That’s when she told me that she’d lied to me about you and my Dad. But I already knew she’d lied. You’re right, you’ve never lied to me about anything, and I should have believed you in spite of what my mother told me.” He shook his head. “Especially after she married that asshole Gaitley. What was wrong with me, Beth? Why didn’t I see it?”

“That’s the second time you called me Beth,” she echoed. “Why?”

It was his turn to look puzzled. “I thought that was the name you preferred, or so you used to say. Why, do you prefer something else now?”

“No.” The words came slowly. “But you never called me that. You always wanted to call me Eliza, or Lizzie.”

“Oh!” He finally broke eye contact and looked down, his face flushed. “It’s stupid. Eliza was my personal name for you, the one I gave you.” He looked sheepish. “Eliza was the first psychotherapist simulation, an early computer program, part of what I was studying in my field. I’m sorry if you hated it, it was just a play on your name.”

She crossed her arms and rolled her eyes. “I swear, you have to be the biggest geek on the face of the earth. Why didn’t you tell me then where you got it?”

“I thought you knew.”

“No, I didn’t know. It’s—” she stopped, her voice choked and she turned away, unwilling to let him see the tears form. It had been too long for vindication, and it now threatened to overwhelm her.

“Beth.” He moved closer to her, reaching for her shoulder. He turned her around. “What’s the matter? What did I say?”

She shook her head and cleared her throat. Throwing back her hair, she gave him a hard look. “It took you long enough, Michael. Five years is a damn long time for someone to wait for an apology.”

“Yeah.” His eyes narrowed. “But then I’ve always been slow and methodical. There was a time when you liked that about me.”

“There was a time when you liked things about me too,” she retorted. “It’s too late for us. Let’s go to the fundraiser and help Beatrix, okay?”

“Yeah, I’ll go with you to the fundraiser. But there’s one thing you need to keep it mind.”

“What’s that?”

“As long as we’re both breathing, it’s never too late.”

 

 

“You want what?” Dan Mangan said into his cell phone. “Hell. Trixie, do you know what time it is?”

“Why does everyone seem to think that I have no concept of time?” Trixie complained. “Yes, I know exactly what time it is. That’s why I’m calling. Right now, timing is everything. Can you help me or not?”

“Let me get this straight. You want me to arrange for Ben Riker, to review the homicide’s department complete case file for Allison Beckhart?”

“That’s right,” she affirmed. “Can you do it or not?”

He pushed a hand through his hair, knowing he was only making the matted mess of bed head worse. “Maybe. To be honest, I don’t know. What are you offering in return?”

“Her killer,” Trixie replied.

“There are some here that think they know who the killer is,” Dan reminded her. “And as I recall he’s your client.”

“Does it matter if he’s my client?” Trixie replied shortly. “If your team is still chasing Reid Beckhart as Allison’s killer then you need us worse than you know.”

Silence filled the phone line for several long moments. “I’ll call you back, Trix. But if I pull this off you’re going to owe me big time.”

“Thanks, Dan.”

Trixie turned to look at Ben. “He’s going to try.”

 

 

“I know you hate this,Trixie, but I just adore it!” Diana sighed as the spa technician placed the cucumbers on her eyes. “It feels wonderful to be pampered. It’s been entirely too long since the three of us had a girls day to be pampered.”

“If you ask me it hasn’t been anywhere near long enough,” Trixie muttered. Fortunately only Honey overheard her and changed the subject.

“What are you wearing tonight?” Honey asked Diana. “I don’t think you said.”

“Something new,” she answered. “I’d rather you be surprised. Not even Mart has seen it, although Mummy said she thought it looked like a slip.” She giggled. “That’s because it shows a lot of leg. What about you?”

“Something vintage,” Trixie replied. “David picked it out. He said it was me.”

“Really, Trixie!” Honey interjected. “Here we thought you’d come so far when it came to clothes and now all we get is ‘something vintage’? Vintage who? Color, length, anything?”

Trixie sighed. She despised this part of her assignment. Even with the training back in January at the European school, the quiz on designers, shoes, and fashion, she would never really be able to embrace haute couture with any real desire for shoes, clothes and accessories. “Lavin,” she finally said racking her brain. “Vintage Lavin. It’s white and long. Sparkly shoes and some sort of scarf thingie that goes with it. That’s not white, it’s black or blue. I’m not sure what David decided for his final choice.” She shot a glance over at Honey. “As for you, Miss Wheeler, what are you wearing?”

“Oh, I’m recycling from an event in Boston earlier this year,” she said airily. “A black over one shoulder affair with a multi colored black and silver stripe with a few other colors thrown in for good measure. I like it too much not to wear it again, not to mention I don’t want to remember what I paid for it. Enough to have paid Brian’s student loans for several months.”

“Any progress on the wedding plans?” Diana asked. “I guess after tonight, those will gear up into full swing.”

An awkward silence grew as Trixie said nothing and Honey hesitated with an answer. Sensing the strain, Diana finally spoke.

“I’ve stepped in it, haven’t I?” she asked raising a cucumber off one eye and looking guiltily towards Honey. “What’s happened?”

“You might as well know now, Di,” Honey finally spoke. “I’ve resigned from the district attorney’s office in Boston and I’m relocating to Chicago for a few months. I’m going to be representing Jed. He’s been charged with murdering his ex-girlfriend.”

“Jed!” Diana exclaimed raising up far enough that both cucumbers fell to her chest. “I thought you were his ex-girlfriend? I don’t understand.”

“After me,” Honey explained. “Tracy something or other.”

“And you’re going to defend Jed?” Diana was having a hard time comprehending. “What does Brian say?”

“At first, plenty,” Honey said drily. “But now he’s told me to do what I had to do. Hopefully, I’ve convinced Ben to come with me to Chicago and work the case with me there. I hope he will; he’d be a real asset and it would get him away from Uncle Sir.”

Trixie tried to hide her grin but failed. Wisely, Honey didn’t acknowledge Trixie’s secret delight in her uncle’s nickname.

“You and Ben in Chicago,” Diana relaxed and replaced the cucumbers on her eyes. “A postponed wedding and Brian will be …” she stopped. “Where will Brian be?”

Honey shrugged. “He’s trying to decide. Boston or New York, but not Chicago. He’s got offers to participate in a couple of different things, so we’ll see.”

Diana digested this information for a few moments before directing her next question to Trixie.

“Does that mean that you and Jim will be next instead of Honey and Brian? After all, Grace will need something to focus on if she’s not planning Honey’s wedding.”

“Nope, Jim and I are in no hurry,” Trixie replied cheerfully. “He’s got a school to build and I have a detective agency to build. We’ll get married at some point, but no time soon.”

“I’m starting to feel cheated,” Diana said. “I was really hoping for a wedding this year.”

“Don’t sweat it,” Trixie grinned. “After all, I was really hoping for a niece or nephew this year. Is that going to happen?”

“Trixie!” Honey chastised her friend.

“Well, it’s true,” she replied. “If she can ask about my wedding plans, why can’t I ask about her plans for kids?”

“You can ask,” Di replied. “I don’t mind, really I don’t. But no, not this year. Mart and I like it being just the two of us. They’ll be plenty of time for kids later.”

“Good grief, I feel like we’re on an episode of the Dr. Phil show or something,” Honey mumbled. “How did we get into all this, anyway?”

“It’s the downfall of talking about fashion,” Trixie teased. “It always leads people astray.”

Diana pushed herself up on one elbow and looked at her friend. “Trixie, my friend. You’re nuts!”

She threw a cucumber at Trixie’s head, hitting her squarely in the forehead.