Alter Ego

by Brian Freeman

  Jungle Jack chuckled and shook his head. “So you really can’t smoke in here, huh?”

  Stride said nothing.

  “Well, look, I’d love to explain it for you, but none of it makes any sense to me. You’d have to ask this John Doe character, but I guess you can’t, because he’s dead, right? Too bad. If I’m hearing you right, he’s the one that killed all these people. Me, I had lunch in Florida, I went to a party at Dean’s place, and I said ‘Hey’ to a man who happened to be renting a cottage near mine. That’s what this all boils down to, isn’t it? The only contact I had with this so-called assassin was telling him where he could get a burger. Now you’re the cop and I’m not, but that sure sounds like squat to me. So if you want to put the cuffs on me, go ahead. Otherwise, I’ve got to be on the set in twenty minutes.”

  Jack got out of the chair. He hesitated for a second to see what Stride did, and when Stride did nothing, Jack laughed and strolled out of the interview room. Stride sat there alone and waited. Not long afterward, Maggie and Cab joined him. They’d been watching the interview from the other side of the one-way window.

  “He’s right,” Stride said as they sat down. “We’ve still got squat. We can pin everything on John Doe, but we can’t connect Doe to Jack or Casperson. All we’ve got is a burner phone that doesn’t lead anywhere. We need more.”

  “Jack didn’t even bother lawyering up,” Cab said. “He knows we can’t touch him. This isn’t his first rodeo.”

  “So what do we do?” Maggie asked.

  “The strategy hasn’t changed,” Stride said. “We need to tie Jungle Jack to John Doe and not just with a meeting in the parking lot. If we do that, we can get Jack to flip on Casperson.”

  Maggie shook her head. “Those two are thick as thieves. Jack owes everything to Casperson. He’s never going to rat him out.”

  “He will if it means getting a deal on a murder charge.”

  “Except like you said, it’s still all smoke,” Maggie pointed out. “With John Doe dead, Jack’s in the clear. We can’t tie them together.”

  There was a long silence in the room. Then Cab Bolton spoke.

  “No, Stride’s right,” he said. “We’re forgetting something.”

  “What?” Maggie asked.

  “We think Jack was John Doe’s local contact, right?” Cab said. “He had to be the go-between who was using the burner phone. Well, we know the go-between made one mistake.”

  Stride thought about it, and so did Maggie, and they both blurted it out at the same moment.

  “He ordered a pizza.”

  34

  Aimee Bowe was quiet as Serena drove her back to the rental house from the hospital. She looked better and stronger, but Serena could see her anxiety as they neared the house overlooking the lake. When they got there, Aimee made no effort to open the car door.

  “You know, you’re welcome to stay with me and Stride,” Serena told her. “You can pick up a few things and come home with me.”

  “Thanks, but I don’t do well with other people. I’m better on my own. It’s not for much longer. Chris thinks we should be able to wrap up the filming tomorrow, and then I’ll be out of here and back to Los Angeles. No offense, but I’m not going to miss Duluth.”

  “I’ll walk you inside and check the house again,” Serena said.

  She got out of the Mustang and came around to the passenger door. She made sure Aimee was secure walking in the snow that led to the house. There had been flurries throughout the afternoon, giving the yard a fresh look and brushing it clean of footprints. No one had been there.

  Serena stopped and looked up at the sky, which was dark and starless under a low swath of clouds. She’d lived in Minnesota long enough that she could taste snow in the air. They’d be buried tomorrow. The wind was still, as if holding its breath in anticipation of a storm.

  “Everything okay?” Aimee asked.

  “Fine.”

  The actress studied the open yard and the surrounding trees. “Where did you find me?”

  Serena pointed. “Down there, near the band of spruces.”

  Aimee looked as if she wanted to remember, but she didn’t.

  They reached the house, and Serena went in first. Aimee came in behind her and took off her coat as Serena checked each of the rooms again, making sure the place was empty. Nothing had changed since her earlier visit. The back door was still blocked with a chair wedged against the doorknob. Aimee wandered around the living room, studying the photographs of the family who owned the house. She picked up one picture frame and dusted the top with her fingers.

  “Do you know the people who live here?” she asked Serena.

  “No.”

  “I suppose not; why would you? They look nice. Cute couple, cute kids. I have a sister with that kind of life. She lives in the suburbs of Cleveland. Three kids, two, four, and seven. All boys. It’s funny. As things started taking off for me, I felt a little bad for her. There I was jetting around the world, making more money than she’d ever see in her lifetime. I wondered if she was jealous. And then last year, out of nowhere, she told me how much she hated the kind of life I led. No roots, no husband, no kids. She said she would never want that for herself in a million years, and she couldn’t believe I chose it.”

  “We all want different things,” Serena said.

  “Well, it was an eye-opener for me. It made me more humble.” Aimee sank down into a sofa opposite the brick fireplace. “I don’t suppose you know how to light a fire, do you? I’ve been staring at this thing every evening, and I have no idea how to get it going.”

  Serena smiled. “Jonny gave me lessons.”

  She opened the flue and stacked several of the wood logs piled near the hearth in a rough pyramid in the grate. As she did, she disturbed a black spider that skittered away across the old ashes. She crumpled several sheets of newspaper and wedged them under the logs, and then she found a book of long matches that she used to start the fire. Everything was dry. The logs caught quickly, warming the room. Serena took a seat next to Aimee. The crackling, dancing fire had a hypnotic quality that entranced them both.

  “Do you want a drink?” Aimee asked after they had sat in silence for several minutes. “I need some wine.”

  “No, thanks.”

  Aimee got up and then looked down at Serena. “You can’t drink, can you? You have a problem with it.”

  Serena shook her head in puzzlement. “How do you know these things?”

  “I wish I knew, Serena. I dated a scientist in college who said I picked up on things without consciously spotting the clues. You weren’t drinking at the party when I first met you. And there was something in your tone of voice just now.”

  “I guess I can believe that,” Serena replied.

  Aimee went to the refrigerator and uncorked an open bottle of Pinot Grigio. She poured herself half a glass and returned to the sofa and sat down. “It’s not just you. My thing scares a lot of people.”

  “I’m not scared. Just skeptical.”

  “Have you ever used a psychic on any of your cases? It happens more than you think. The CIA had a whole program for it.”

  “I’d like to see Jonny’s face if I suggested that,” Serena said, smiling.

  “Well, most are charlatans, but if even a handful produce results that are impossible to explain, doesn’t that make you wonder?”

  “I don’t really think about it.”

  Aimee sipped her wine. She hesitated, as if she had things to say and didn’t want to say them. “You probably don’t want me to tell you this. I think your husband is wrong about the Art Leipold case.”

  Serena stared at her. “What?”

  “Someone else put those women in the box.”

  “What are you talking about? The evidence against Art Leipold was overwhelming. Fingerprints, DNA, soil samples, connections to the victims. The jury took less than an hour to convict him. It was an open-and-shut case, and there aren’t many of those.”

  “I k
now. I read all about the case when I was preparing for the role.”

  “I’m sorry, Aimee. Jonny doesn’t make mistakes about that kind of thing.”

  “Everybody makes mistakes.”

  “Not like that. What do you base this on other than intuition?”

  “It’s not intuition,” Aimee said.

  “Then what is it?”

  “I told you, I don’t know. But it’s real. Look, you don’t have to listen to me and you don’t have to believe it. All I’m telling you is what I feel.”

  Serena didn’t say anything for a while. She remembered what Aimee had told her the first time they’d met. Don’t trust anyone.

  “Forgive me for saying so, but I hope this isn’t some kind of weird game to drive publicity for the movie. That would be a horrible thing to do to the families of the victims.”

  Aimee put her wineglass down and brushed her hair from her face. “I’m hurt that you would even think that.”

  “I’m sorry, but you’ve lied to me before,” Serena said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You know exactly what I mean.”

  Aimee studied the fire and pushed her lips together into a frown. “You don’t understand my situation, Serena.”

  “Yes, I do. You’re protecting yourself and your career. The trouble is, you’re protecting him, too.”

  “I have no choice. You may think I’m a star, but in this industry I’m a nobody. Nobodies don’t go up against Dean Casperson, not if they ever want to work again. Don’t believe the hype that Hollywood has changed. If you think that, you’re kidding yourself.”

  “If you talk, others will, too.”

  “Or I’ll be hung out to dry,” Aimee said. “Either way, my career will be over. In public, people may talk about how brave you are, but behind the scenes, they’ll label you a troublemaker and a bitch. Those women don’t get parts.”

  Serena held her stare in the firelight. “Tell me the truth. Did you take the Xanax yourself?”

  Tears filled Aimee’s eyes. “No. Of course I didn’t.”

  “Did he assault you once before? When you did the first movie together?”

  She nodded silently. “It was awful.”

  “Then why go to his house? Why be alone with him again?”

  “When Dean Casperson calls, you don’t say no,” Aimee replied.

  “Will you come in and make a statement?”

  “No. If you repeat what I’ve said to anyone, I’ll deny it. This is between you and me and no one else.”

  “There has to be a first domino,” Serena said. “Someone has to talk.”

  “Not me.” Aimee wiped her face. “You should probably go. I have an early call for makeup on the set.”

  Serena stood up. The fire was hot on her back. Knowing the truth and not being able to do anything about it was more frustrating than the lie. “Okay. Fine.”

  “I wish I could help you.”

  “I wish you could, too.” She headed for the front door. “I’ll have an officer do a drive-by overnight. Just to make sure the area is secure. If you have any kind of problem, call me.”

  Serena left the house and pulled the door shut behind her. She stood on the porch under the dark sky, anticipating the snow. She studied the yard again, making sure there were no fresh footprints around the house. She was about to leave when she heard a voice in the house behind her. It was Aimee, talking to someone. Serena immediately turned back and shoved the front door open again.

  “Aimee? Are you okay?”

  The actress was standing in the living room with her wineglass in her hand. She pointed at the mantle over the fireplace. “I’m fine. I have a little visitor. I don’t know where he came from.”

  Serena stared across the shadows and saw a tiny flutter of movement in black and white.

  It was a chickadee.

  *

  Cat was already in bed at midevening, but she couldn’t sleep.

  She’d been playing Words With Friends with a boy in Idaho, but when she got 112 points for “quiz,” he became irritated with her and signed off. She checked Facebook, but it was late and none of her friends was streaming live. She pulled the Rubik’s Cube from Curt off her nightstand, but she’d solved it a dozen times and was bored with it.

  Her phone had a Netflix app. She opened it up and ran a search with the words “Dean Casperson.” Dozens of movies came up, going back years. She’d seen most of them. She picked a romantic comedy and then fast-forwarded through the movie until she reached Dean’s first scene. She froze the image with his face on the screen.

  The movie was only a few years old. He looked exactly as he had at the party on the North Shore when she’d met him in person. She was ashamed of what a fool she’d been for him that night. You are so amazing. I just love you.

  And then to hear him flirting back, knowing full well that she was melting for him. Cat, as in meow?

  Now she knew the truth about him. It made her sick.

  She got out of bed and pushed her tiny feet into boots and retrieved her heavy coat from the closet. She went over to the bedroom window and did what she always did when she couldn’t sleep. She climbed out onto the cottage’s front porch. She pulled one of the Adirondack chairs close to the white railing and sat down and propped her feet.

  Minnesota Avenue was hushed. She heard nothing but a low murmur as the snow started. A tiny advance guard fell through the streetlight ahead of the army behind it. The windshield of her Civic already had turned white. She thought about driving to the end of the Point to hang out on the green bench by the harbor. It was like an oasis. Stride went there to deal with crossroads in his life, and she’d picked up the same habit. But she didn’t want Stride to worry if he looked in on her bedroom and she was gone. She knew he checked on her sometimes.

  Her phone vibrated in her pocket. Curt was inviting her to a video chat. She accepted the call and saw a shadowy close-up of Curt’s face and his happy, cocky smile. He was in his car, driving one-handed. His long black hair was loose. Snow made sticky streaks on the side window behind him.

  “Kitty cat!”

  “Hey, Curt. Where are you?”

  “I’m on 35. I just left the casino at Black Bear. I think the sky’s falling.”

  “Looks that way.”

  “You want me to come over there? We could hang.”

  “Nah, Stride would freak,” Cat said.

  “Come on, Stride loves me. I’m the hero. I rescued you. That should count for something.”

  “I know, but I think he’s pissed at both of us. I’m just sitting out here by myself for a couple minutes. I’m heading to bed soon.”

  “It’s early.”

  “Yeah, but I’m bored,” Cat said.

  “You’re sounding all down again.”

  “I know.”

  “So talk to me,” Curt told her. “What’s with the frown?”

  “Stride won’t let me tell anyone what I saw at Dean Casperson’s house. It’s stupid. I want to help.”

  “Well, you didn’t see anything really juicy, right?”

  “Maybe not, but I know what was going to happen.”

  She saw a truck pass Curt on the freeway with a blare of its horn and a flash of its high beams. The snow got heavier.

  “You should probably hang up,” she said. “It’s not safe driving like that.”

  “I’m not hanging up until I see you turn the world on with that smile of yours.”

  “Well, that’s not going to happen tonight.”

  Curt gave an exaggerated sigh. “Look, I know you don’t want to hear this, but I’m with Stride on this one. If you try to make people think Casperson is a sleazebag, the only one who gets hurt is you. It’s not worth it.”

  “Everybody wants to protect me like I’m still a kid. I’m sick of it.”

  “I’m just saying, when it’s your word against Dean Casperson, who do you think the world is going to believe? Sorry, kitty cat, it ain’t you. It ain’t me either, or
Stride, or Serena, or anybody else. People love this guy. They don’t want to believe he’s a dick. If they don’t see it with their own eyes, trust me, it doesn’t matter what you say. They’ll just call you a liar and plunk down their money for his next flick.”

  “Yeah. I know.” Curt was right. So was Stride. No one would believe her.

  “Besides, it’ll all be over soon,” he went on. “No use sweating it now.”

  “What do you mean? Why?”

  “Word is, the film’s wrapping soon. There’s a big party tomorrow night.”

  “Another party? At Casperson’s place?”

  “Nah, they rented out one of the ritzy resorts on the North Shore. I guess Dean figures there’s too much heat at his place. It’s supposed to be hush-hush to fool the tabloids.”

  “Do you know where it’s happening? Will you be there?”

  “I’m everywhere. You know that. Nothing happens in this town that I don’t know about.”

  She bit her lip and thought. Her knee bounced. Her eyes narrowed. She didn’t say anything for a long time. Curt whistled on the other end of the phone as he stared at her.

  “I don’t like that look, kitty cat. You’re up to something.”

  Cat lowered her voice and looked over her shoulder on the porch to make sure Stride and Serena weren’t watching from inside the house. Then she pushed her face close to the phone.

  “You’re right. I’ve got an idea,” she whispered, “but I need your help.”

  35