Chapter Text
Good news never came at 3:00 a.m. Bea had been expecting the phone to ring. But that didn't mean she moved to answer it.
Someone had died. Someone important to her. The more beautiful the rainbow, the more beautiful the soul. And last night’s signal from Heaven had been a doozy.
At sixty, Beatrix Belden had gotten used to people dying. Her parents and most of their generation had passed - as had too many of Bea’s old cohorts.
The pale horse and its shadowy rider seemed to know the trails around Sleepyside all too well. Sometimes, Ms. Belden wondered why she’d been passed by. But, as sweet Honey had told her many times, God wouldn’t be calling her home as long as there was a mystery to be solved.
It had been a good life all and all. But that didn’t mean the self-proclaimed “tough old cookie” hadn’t been to hell and back a few times. And there was still that empty place in her chest where her heart had once been.
Of course, Bea would have given her life for any of the others. Of the Bob-Whites, her ever-eloquent brother Martin had placed many a wager that she’d be the first of their little group to go the way of the dinosaurs. His near-twin had never out-grown her propensity for stumbling into trouble. But sadly, Dan Mangan had beaten her to the mark. Being a cop in New York City had become a death sentence. But good ol’ Dan had known the risks when he’d signed up.
Di had come next. Breast cancer had taken her down, just like her mother. It ran in their family. And though Di had fought like a tigress to beat it, she'd lost her battle in the end. But by then, it’d come as a blessing. Bea’s beautiful friend had suffered far more than any angel should. At least now she had her wings…and her shining dark tresses again.
But Diana wasn’t the only Lynch girl in Heaven. Candy Lynch and Bea’s youngest brother Bob had been out on his motorcycle one Sunday afternoon when a car traveling too fast had come up behind the pair on Glen Road. There hadn’t been enough time for the vehicle to stop. And both teenagers were killed instantly.
Bobby had been a senior in high school, and Candy a sophomore. Lord, it seemed so long ago now. But the wooden roadside cross, which Larry and Terry Lynch had put up after the accident, still warned motorists, to this day, to slow down on the blind curve out in front of the Wheelers'.
Sometimes, Bea wished the eternal reminder had been allowed to rot away. Wasn’t the pain supposed to fade? The plastic flowers left by family and friends had. Just like Bob and Candy’s rainbow that day over the ocean at Aunt Alicia’s.
Bea’s aunt, part mentor, part fairy godmother, had been the first to open her niece’s eyes to the prismatic prophecy in the sky. The two ladies had been sipping margaritas on her aunt's back deck in North Carolina, watching a storm pass over the water when the sun had broken through the clouds, releasing a double arc of shimmering colors.
It had been the first twin rainbow Bea had ever seen, and she’d commented on how amazing it was. But Aunt Alicia had grown somber.
“What’s wrong, Aunt Alicia?” Bea had asked. “You look as if someone just died?”
Then, her usually buoyant aunt gave Bea a look she'd never forget. The sadness in it had cut right to her soul.
“Not yet, Bea Bea,” had come her melancholy reply. “But soon. I always see rainbows when a loved one is about to pass. God has just told our angels that he is calling someone close to us back home. The raindrops are the angels’ tears of joy. And the rainbows, the reflection of their smiles from Heaven.”
Bea had never heard of such a thing. But she was tolerant of her aging teachers’ unique pearls of wisdom. “Why, then, do the rainbows look like frowns?" she'd wondered.
Aunt Alicia had smiled softly and tapped the then-young woman’s hand with gentle fingers. "That's because we see them from Earth through our grief, Bea Bea. If we were to look down on them from Heaven, they’d look like smiles.”
Of course, back then, Miss Belden had yet to put much stock into what she'd heard. She'd never been a religious person, exactly. And her opinions were her own. But that was to change the following afternoon when the call came from Daddy about her little brother and Candy’s accident.
Aunt Alicia could have given her stunned niece a sad “I told you so”. But she didn’t need to. Bea’s angels already had. And slowly, the young detective began tying together other rainbows and deaths. Including the first, the one when Trixie Belden had died and Beatrix Belden had been born …Mrs. Vanderpoel's rainbow.
But she didn’t want to go there.
As the telephone extension by the bed stopped ringing, Bea heard the answering machine on the main unit in the living room pick up. Someone was leaving a message. Propping herself up on a protesting elbow, the sighing woman reached for the plush Irish Setter on the pillow beside her. "I wonder who it is this time, Reddy?" she asked her pet before cradling him like a lost child.
The stuffed toy was Bea’s security blanket. It had been a gift from Dan from another lifetime ago. And it was a companion that would never leave her side.
Swinging her legs out of bed, still clutching her floppy lifeline, the resigned lady winced as her bare feet hit the carriage house's cold wooden floor. Whoever had called had been brief. But they had sounded desperately urgent. The voice had been a woman's, and she imagined it belonged to Honey.
Bea hoped nothing had happened to Brian. Her oldest brother was sixty–three, after all. Daddy had been the exact age when he'd had his heart attack while shoveling snow. Maybe Brian had been mowing the grass…
Bea stopped herself. She’d gotten better at curbing her imagination when it wanted to run wild. But the bad habit still remained.
Brian was fine, she assured herself. He wouldn’t be tending to the yard at 3:00 a.m. Besides, it was too early in the season to pull out the lawn mower. The old brain just didn’t click right this early in the morning.
But someone wasn’t OK. And whoever it was had been a very special someone.
Setting Reddy down on the sofa, Beatrix went to the front door and let in a blast of nippy spring air. Down in the hollow, a wisp of smoke rose from the chimney at Crabapple Farm, but she couldn’t tell if the lights were on in the house. However, up on the hill, Manor House was ablaze. And Bea gulped.
Shivering, she wished she’d thought to grab her robe. But it wouldn’t have warmed her. These chills came from somewhere so cold that Bea knew a part of her would never thaw.
Slamming the door to the harsh reality, she returned to the sofa and scooped up her old friend. And then Ms. Belden just sat there. Five minutes passed. Then, ten more. And all the while, the pale-faced woman thought mindless, silly thoughts.
Maybe she should color her hair? Likely, she’d just added a few more grey strands to her snarled blonde mop. Not that anyone would notice. It was practically white, anyway. Plus, wasn't grey in? Where were Di and Aunt Alicia when she needed them? And speaking of where, where in heavens had she left her darn glasses?! Such a nuisance they were. Oh, well. If she couldn’t see the accumulation of dust on the coffee table, then it simply wasn’t there.
But the phone rang again, and this time, Bea got up and answered it out of zombie-like habit.
“Trixie?” came the weak voice on the other end of the line. “I’m so sorry to wake you this early. But Brian and I thought you’d want to know.”
Honey paused before going on. “Did you get my message? Trixie, are you there?”
Then Bea’s long-time friend began to cry. Honey and the boys still referred to Bea as Trixie. And normally, Bea found it comforting. Only this morning, it took her back to a place she didn’t want to go. And worse, it was only the first stop on a journey to the last place she wanted to be on Earth.
“Yeah, I’m here,” Ms. Belden returned quietly. "What's up, Honey? I haven’t listened to your message yet. But I was about to,” she added with a twinge of guilt.
But even Honey knew it was a lie. And Bea imagined so did Brian. Honey always put her on speakerphone.
Honey and Bea’s brother had been married after Brian had graduated from medical school. And the young couple had moved into the family farmhouse with Moms after Daddy’s funeral. By then, Brian had finished his residency and taken over Dr. Ferris’s family practice. The dutiful doctor also lent his services twice a week at Jim Frayne’s boy’s school.
Honey’s adopted brother had fulfilled his childhood dream of opening a center for misguided youths. Jim had built his foundation on the property left to him by his late Uncle James. But not all the neighbors were happy about having a reform school of sorts next door. And Jim had spent a lot of time in the courtroom struggling to keep his center open.
But all in all, The Frayne Institute had proved very successful. They’d helped scores of boys since they’d opened their doors. And Bea was fiercely proud of its founder. But she certainly wasn’t fond of his taste in women.
Jim and his wife Cynthia resided at Manor House. These days, the Wheelers spent most of their time in Florida. According to Honey, both of her parents were in failing health.
Jim’s son Matt, a businessman at heart, had been groomed by his grandfather to take over Wheeler Enterprises. He and his lovely bride shared the family’s stately home with his parents and, occasionally, his grandparents. Matt Jr. and Melanie were expecting their first child, and Bea suddenly had a terrible thought.
“Oh, Honey, nothing has happened to the baby, has it?” she gasped.
But her sensitive friend was sobbing by this time, and Brian had to take the phone.
“No, the baby's fine, Trix," he said, choking on his words. "But Cynthia called a little bit ago. David found Jim in his office at around one this morning. Word is, it was a suicide.”
Bea Belden sagged to the floor. God, no. Not Jim? Surely her ears were fooling her? But the distraught woman knew she’d heard her brother correctly.
Yet it couldn’t be? She and Jim were supposed to end up together. An old gypsy fortuneteller had once told Bea it was written in the stars. Someday, they’d live happily ever after.
But with the last of her childhood dreams shattered and in sharp shards around her, Beatrix Belden felt like self-destructing. She may have been a tough old cookie. But even cookies were known to crumble occasionally.
Only there would be time for grieving later. Jim wasn’t the kind of man to take his own life. He didn't fit the profile, especially with a new grand-baby on the way. Something was rotten in Denmark.
“Have you talked to Mart?” she asked Brian, pulling herself together.
“Not yet,” he confessed. "Honey felt you should be the first to know."
Bea was glad about that. She wanted to be the one to speak to Mart. Mart made an excellent sounding board. Brian and Honey had been too close to Jim. They were hurting, and Bea needed to be sensitive.
A part of her wanted to know the details of Jim’s death. But the wise woman also knew she wasn’t ready to hear them. She had to brace herself. Gather her wits.
“See that you and Honey get some rest, Brian,” his sister said, preparing to hang up. “I’ll give Mart a call. Tell Honey I’ll stop by the farm on my way to work.”
“You’re not going into the office, are you?” her brother returned with total disbelief.
But the tried and true detective certainly was. Come rain or shine, Sleuths-R-Us would hang out their shingle this morning. Bea owed Jim that much.