“Hello,” she said cheerfully. This was definitely her personal line. I’d called her business line once, by mistake, and it’s a bit like getting Eartha Kitt. Your whole body temp goes up a degree or three.

“It’s Zack.”

“Hi! Long time no hear! How’ve you been?”

“Good, pretty good. You?”

“Can’t complain.”

“Business good?”

“I think I’m recession proof. No matter how bad the economy gets, there are guys who need to be tied up and spanked. You called the wrong line if you want to book a session.”

“No, this is personal.”

“You think spanking isn’t personal?”

“Point taken.”

Trixie and I don’t exactly occupy the same worlds, and I don’t mean that to sound judgmental. She’s in a line of work my kids would call “sketchy” and maybe even a little bit dangerous, not to mention very possibly illegal. But her straightforwardness, honesty, and willingness to help me when I was in trouble once, made her a friend.

“Listen,” I said, “I haven’t touched base with you in a while, and thought I’d call. It was nice, when you were next door, we could have a coffee now and then.”

“Usually when you were having some sort of crisis,” Trixie said. “Does that mean you’re having one now?”

“I guess you could say I’m a bit stressed.”

“Nothing like when you lived next door, I hope.”

“I’m not trying to duck a murder charge, if that’s what you mean.” I told her about the night before, with Lawrence.

“How does a normal guy like you find so much trouble?” Trixie asked.

“It’s a gift. And then there’s this thing with my daughter.”

“My mind’s gone blank. Your daughter …”

“An—”

“Angie! Yes. How’s she? Still interested in photography?”

“Not enough that we’ve put a darkroom into the house, like we did when we lived in Oakwood. She’s pretty busy, anyway. This is her first year in college. With all the studying and assignments, there’s not that much time for hobbies. She’s living at home, heading downtown for her classes, taking a mix of things, but kind of leaning toward psychology, I think. She’s got a couple of psych courses.”

Trixie said, “Maybe, if she takes enough of them, she’ll be able to figure out what’s wrong with you.” I smiled. She went on, “So, what’s up with her?”

I told her about Trevor Wylie.

“I think you’re making a big thing out of nothing. So there’s a guy who likes her, she’s not interested. Eventually, he’ll get the message.”

“You’re probably right. But showing up at her friend’s place, out of nowhere. Sounds like he had to be following her, don’t you think?”

“Look, Angie’s a smart kid, right?”

“Yeah, sure.”