"Have you been coming to Trixie long?" George asked me as we went up the stairs together.
"Uh, no," I said.
"Well, you won't be disappointed. She's the best. I can't recommend her too highly."
"Really."
Trixie saw him off at the door. "Say hi to Mildred for me," she said, giving George a peck on the cheek and sending him on his way. I watched through the glass as he got in his car and backed out of the driveway.
"Mildred?" I asked.
"His wife. She's not really into this. It's been a real load-off for her ever since she started sending George to me."
"She sends him?"
"She saw my ad. First time she sent him, it was for his birthday. Now it's a semi-regular thing, every month or so. Some people are very open-minded." She grabbed a silk robe hanging on a hook just inside the door to the basement, slipped it on, and went into the kitchen. "Did you get yourself some coffee?"
"I was about to, and you called me downstairs to help free George."
"That was so embarrassing. I could have cut him out of it, but that strap alone was three hundred bucks." She shook her head. "Now, what's got you so wound up you're busting in here in the middle of the night?" She smiled. "Did you see my ad, too?"
"No, I didn't," I said. "I'm in a bit of a mess, Trixie."
"Grab a chair."
It was after that that I asked whether she was really an accountant, and offered my apologies about busting in.
"What is it?" Trixie asked. "Another backpack incident?"
"Worse, although it started out in a similar way. But things have sort of spiraled out of control. There are men, at least one, trying to find me and, I think it's fair to say, kill me."
Trixie's eyebrows shot up a notch. "Why would there be men trying to kill you?"
"Well, for one thing, this." I slid the ledger book across the table at her.
"What's this?" she asked.
"Well, you're the accountant. Maybe you can tell me."
She opened the book. Her nails were long and bloodred, and I found that I felt just a bit feverish. Where her robe opened I could see the swell of her breasts, pushed up and out, courtesy of the spectacularly engineered corset.
"Let's have a look. List of payments, money coming in, some names here. Wow, I think I recognize this guy. He's a building inspector, comes here sometimes, likes to play doctor."
"Okay."
"So he's getting paid five hundred every, it looks like, every week or so. And here's another name I recognize. Carpington?"
"Roger. He's a client, too?"
"No, I just recognize the name. From the paper."
"He's a town councilman. How much is he getting?"
"Well, right here he's getting five thou." She thumbed the pages. "His name pops up a lot, but it's just one of dozens. Zack, where did you get this?"
"It's a long story."
"I've got time," she said, leaning back in her chair and crossing her booted legs.
"Sarah and I were shopping," I said, and went through the whole thing. Taking the wrong purse, trying to return it, finding Stefanie Knight's body, getting tracked down by Rick, the meeting with Carpington, the episode at the construction site. Trixie said barely a word, taking it all in, nodding slowly.
I finished with finding the ledger in Stefanie's car, and Rick's destruction of mine out front of McDonald's.
"You're in some kind of deep shit," Trixie said, running her tongue across her top teeth.
"Yes," I said. "That's a fairly good assessment of the situation. Thank you."
"Listen, don't get snippy with me. Did I tell you to take Sarah's purse to teach her a lesson?"
"No. Did I mention that, in addition to everything else that's happened tonight, she thinks I'm impotent?"
"No, I think you left that part out. Are you? I could check."
"She wanted to, you know, spend some time with me tonight, before she went to work, but it's a bit hard to concentrate when you think the police might be looking for you and charging you with murder. I think maybe it's time to go to the police."
Trixie thought about that. "How did you get here, if your car's blown up?"
"Stefanie's car. Her Beetle. I parked it one block over."
"So you not only stole her purse, but now you have her car? That'll look good to the police. You're not wearing her underwear, too, are you?"
I hadn't thought about the incriminating aspect of driving Stefanie's car all around town. I did not, it occurred to me, have the makings of a master criminal.
"But if I don't go to the police," I said, "how'm I going to protect myself from this Rick guy? He's a total nutjob. He killed that Spender guy down in the creek, probably killed Stefanie, and he's wandering around town with a python in his trunk."
Trixie blinked. "Does Sarah know anything about any of this?"
I shook my head. "She's noticed me acting kind of weird, but no. And she won't be coming home from work until morning, she's doing the night shift, and I farmed the kids out to friends' houses."
"You need some kind of backup," she said. "You have a gun or anything?"
"Are you kidding? Do I look like someone who owns a gun? I don't even know anyone who owns a -" I stopped.