Twisted Hunger

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Twisted Hunger Page 12

by Marilyn Campbell


  To prove she wasn’t a snob, she took him to the cafeteria rather than the sit-down restaurant off the lobby. And to prove she could be nice, she asked him questions about himself and paid rapt attention to his answers. Surprisingly, she didn’t have to fake that as she usually did with men. Luke Madigan was actually an interesting person.

  Through his anecdotes, she could see that he was a dedicated teacher who used humor and a youthful attitude to get through to his students. She imagined that he was the sort who could inspire a young person to read the classics. When she asked how he filled his free time, she wasn’t at all surprised that there was a daredevil lurking just beneath his “average guy” façade.

  “So how did you spend your last vacation?” he asked after telling her about the week he spent hiking alone through the Canadian wilderness.

  She wished she had an adventurous story to relate, but all that came to mind was how she’d spent the only extended time she’d taken off work in several years—sitting by her mother’s hospital bed.

  “From the look on your face, I’d guess wherever you went, you didn’t have much fun.”

  She pulled her thoughts back to the present. “No, I didn’t.” Glancing at the clock on the wall, she was so stunned to see that over an hour had passed that she nearly jumped out of her chair. “I’ve enjoyed your company, but I really have to get back to my office before the senator sends out a search party.”

  “I’ll walk you back,” Luke said, quickly rising and helping to dispose of their food trays.

  “That’s not necessary,” she protested and walked a bit faster toward the elevator.

  “Of course it is. I wouldn’t want you accusing me of not having good manners.”

  She sighed and shook her head. “We’re not going to start that again, are we?” The elevator doors opened and this time he waited while she took her steadying breath and entered the box before him.

  “Go ahead and ask,” he said, after they were moving. “You know you’ll be bugged all afternoon if you don’t.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “Ask what?” He gave her a look that implied she knew very well what he was talking about, but she didn’t. “What?”

  “If you succeeded in your mission.”

  The word “mission” sounded like an alarm going off in her head. Was it a code word? Could he be the one Brevowski had warned her about? She tried to maintain a calm demeanor. “And what mission would that be?”

  “The one where you prove to me that you really are a very nice lady.”

  She expected relief, but it didn’t come. “Oh. That mission. Well? Did I succeed or should I ask the teacher if I passed his little test?”

  He smiled. “Yes, to either one.”

  She made herself smile back. “So you don’t think I’m a snob anymore?”

  “I wouldn’t go that far,” he replied, looking serious again. “You proved you can be nice over a Dutch-treat lunch in a cafeteria, but the only way you’ll convince me you’re not a snob is by letting me take you out to dinner at a decent restaurant tonight.”

  The elevator stopped at her floor before she could form her answer, and when the doors opened, Senator Jones and a security officer were standing in front of them.

  Chapter 10

  “Perfect timing, as usual, Miss Winters. I’m heading to the Capitol for my meeting with the governor, but I should be back well before my appointment at four with Ms. Oliver. Hopefully, I’ll be finished up today in time to have a cocktail with my wife before the dinner meeting with the Bar Association.

  “Which reminds me, she was so impressed with your handling of the AIDS banquet, she wants to meet with you to go over the arrangements for the private dinner party we’re having next weekend. Perhaps you could give her a call and set something up for tomorrow.”

  Jones turned to Luke and frowned slightly. “I’m certain we’ve met, but…”

  “He was at the banquet,” Ellery supplied.

  “I was just one of thousands you met that night,” Luke said before she could give his name. “I’m surprised you recognized me.”

  “The senator has a special talent for remembering names and faces,” Ellery explained.

  “Really? I have a fairly good memory for faces myself.”

  Ellery watched the two men scrutinizing each other and had the distinct impression there was more going on between them than their words implied. It was enough to make her suspicious of Luke’s true motives again.

  Suddenly Jones smiled. “Now I remember. You were the young man who entertained my wife while I was talking to the Los Angeles detective. She was quite grateful to you. I’m afraid my talent has failed me on your name, however.”

  Ellery noticed how Luke clenched and unclenched his fist before reintroducing himself. He was definitely tense.

  “Lucas Madigan,” he said after a noticeable pause and held out his hand. “From North Carolina.”

  “Ah, yes. I do remember now. But tell me, Mr. Madigan, if you’re from North Carolina, how did you happen to be sitting next to the detective?”

  “Just good luck,” he said with a tight smile. “I was the guest of one of the other officers at that table.”

  “Now you have me truly curious as to how you’ve come to be with our Miss Winters today.”

  Ellery opened her mouth to explain, but Luke was faster.

  “The competition for her attention Saturday night was a little too stiff. I thought I’d have more luck impressing her this way.”

  Jones laughed. “I’m sorry I have a meeting to run off to. I’d like to hear how this story ends.”

  As soon as the senator was on his way, Ellery confronted Luke. “That was very embarrassing, thank you very much.” She turned away from him but stopped when he followed. “Perhaps I needed to be more clear. I no longer appreciate your company.”

  “You didn’t give me an answer,” he reminded her. “About tonight.”

  “I’m sorry. I already have a date.”

  “With Brandon? Or some other celebrity?”

  He was back to using that disapproving tone of voice. “Not that it’s any of your business, but yes, I’m having dinner with Brandon.”

  “Tomorrow night then?”

  “Sorry. I can’t.”

  “Or any other night, right?” Her answer was in her eyes. “Because I’m not important enough?”

  She clucked her tongue. “You just spent an hour convincing me how important you’ve been to several thousand young minds. No television star can do anything more important than that.”

  “Then it’s my looks. I’m not handsome enough? Tall enough? Muscular enough?”

  “You know very well how attractive you are. I’m not going to feed your ego by detailing your features for you.” She tried to leave but he stepped in front of her.

  “It can’t be my I.Q. or my lack of imagination or that I’m a boring conversationalist.” He snapped his fingers. “It’s the money, isn’t it? You figure an associate professor doesn’t make enough—”

  “Stop this! You’re being ridiculous, and I have to get back to work.” She moved, but again he blocked her path.

  “There’s only one thing left, and it’s a pretty pathetic excuse.” He made her wait for his conclusion. “You’re afraid of me.”

  “What?” She couldn’t believe he said that. She wasn’t afraid of any man! Certainly not some nutty professor who would be long gone in a day or two.

  “You heard me. The thought of spending private time with me frightens you. Since you don’t seem to have any objections to me personally, however, that doesn’t make much sense. Unless…” He rubbed his chin and slowly nodded.

  After a few seconds, she gave in. “Unless what?”

  He grinned. “Unless you’re afraid I might be the man who could get you to take those pins out of your hair.”

  That was the last straw. “I’m tired of this game. Go find someone else to poke your stick at.” She regretted using that phrase the instant it was ou
t of her mouth and his eyes twinkled with sexual response. This time when she stepped around him, he let her go.

  “I’m staying at Conley’s Motel,” he said to her back. “In case you want to prove I’m wrong again.”

  “Don’t hold your breath,” she replied.

  By the time she returned to her desk, her temper had cooled sufficiently for her to realize he had managed to push two of her most sensitive buttons.

  Although she knew it was impossible to make everyone like her, being called a snob was too reminiscent of her school days when jealous girls were always saying mean things about her just because she didn’t want to waste her time the way they did.

  And being called a coward, well, that was just too much. There wasn’t a man on the planet with whom she couldn’t stand eye to eye. If anything, he should be the one who should fear being with a woman as strong and independent and passionate as she knew she could be… if she chose.

  It was almost as if he knew in advance exactly how to get her attention. The fact that it was negative attention didn’t seem to make any difference.

  Again she was struck with the idea that Lucas Madigan could be the one she was supposed to beware of. And whatever that was that went on between him and the senator seemed to support that. Now that she thought about it, she had the distinct impression that Luke had not wanted to tell Jones who he was, how they’d met or that he was in the building acquiring information on him.

  Suddenly it occurred to her that she may have gotten the whole thing backward. Instead of Luke using the information as an excuse to get to her, perhaps he was only pretending interest in her to get the information. The problem there was that the only information he’d asked for were items anyone could access without having someone on the inside.

  The other problem with that line of thinking was that even if Luke were some sort of spy, that didn’t really explain how he could know about her vulnerable spots. Even her mother hadn’t known her that well.

  She forced herself to concentrate on the notes the senator had asked her to prepare for tomorrow morning’s budget meeting. No matter how hard she tried though, she couldn’t quit thinking about Lucas Madigan and why he disturbed her so much.

  If you spent more time with him, you could figure out for yourself whether he was after you for your body or to find out what your secret mission is. Isn’t there a saying about keeping your friends close, but your enemies closer?

  She ordered the voice in her head to be quiet. It was only making her more confused.

  If he was a professional spy, she didn’t have the experience to trick him into revealing any secrets. And if he was just a horny man… well, she could have taken advantage of Brandon for that sort of evening.

  At least Brandon didn’t aggravate her… or challenge her… or surprise her. With Brandon, she had no problem keeping all the pins in her hair.

  For some reason, that knowledge didn’t feel as satisfying today as it had yesterday.

  * * *

  “I’m Detective Harris,” Terrell told the thin, middle-aged man in the receiving area. “Come on back to my desk. I understand you have some information about the Neuman case.” He could tell the man was quite nervous about being in a police department. As soon as they were both seated, he said, “I’ll be honest with you, we don’t have much on this one, so we’ll be very grateful for any small thing you can add. I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”

  He gulped. “Levitt. Henry Levitt. I… I would have come in sooner, but I was in Las Vegas for the last week… on vacation. You know how they don’t even have clocks in the casinos so you’ll lose track of time. I didn’t know about Stewart until I got back last night.”

  Levitt looked emaciated, his blond hair was thinning and his skin had an unhealthy color. Terrell had seen other men who were dying of AIDS. They made good witnesses; they had nothing to lose. “Were you and Stewart friends?”

  He shook his head. “Not really. We have, er, had some mutual acquaintances, and I’ve been a customer in his store for years. I went in to buy a new outfit for my trip. I’ve lost a little weight recently.”

  “When was that?” Terrell asked, poising his pen to jot down the date.

  “It was the day before I left. Friday, May 17. I was told Stewart was killed that night, mutilated…” He shivered. “I can’t believe anyone would do that to him.”

  “We were told there was a jilted lover in the picture. Do you know anything about that?”

  “You’re talking about Corey, but that wouldn’t make sense. Stewart kicked him out because he found out he was cheating on him with some doctor, a neurosurgeon, I think. Corey walked out of Stewart’s house and moved straight in with the doctor. He isn’t the type to hold a grudge when the result is financially advantageous to him.”

  Terrell scribbled a note to follow up on that information. “Did you speak with Stewart that day?”

  He nodded. “That’s actually why I’m here. He told me something that might be important.”

  “Go on,” Terrell prodded when Levitt was slow to explain.

  “When I walked into the store that afternoon, Stewart was talking to a well-dressed blonde woman. I’m sure the pink suit she was wearing was an original design. Their faces were sort of close together, almost like they were about to kiss. She seemed very embarrassed when I walked up to Stewart to say hello, and she left seconds later. When I teased him about being too old to switch, he just laughed. See, the attractive blonde wasn’t a woman at all.”

  Terrell straightened in his chair. “You mean it was a man? In drag?”

  Levitt gave him a crooked smile. “I’ve seen plenty, and I’ve got to tell you, this guy had me fooled. He had obviously intrigued Stewart too, because he said they had a date that night. I could be completely wrong, but if Stewart did go out with him the night he was murdered, I might have seen his killer.”

  Terrell’s mind whirled. After all these years, someone besides Luke might have gotten a good look at The Eye Doctor. To counter that positive note was the fact that Levitt’s statement supported Luke’s new theory that the psycho whore was really a cross-dressing man. Damn! He could just imagine Luke’s reaction to this. “Can you give me a description now? Then if you have some time, I’d like you to talk to our police artist.”

  “I have plenty of time,” Levitt said. “But I’m not sure how much help I’m going to be. I mean, he must have been wearing a wig—although it was an excellent one—and he had rather large sunglasses on.”

  “What about height and weight or build?”

  Levitt frowned in thought. “I guess he was about my height or a little taller. I’m five-eight. I think he was wearing heels, but I didn’t really notice how high they were. I’m afraid I was checking out the cut of the suit jacket. It was very flattering for a full-figured woman, which is what I thought he was. The blouse had a high collar with a soft chiffon bow that pretty much concealed his whole throat. He didn’t have a beard shadow. I can tell you that for sure. So he might have been a natural blond.”

  “How about an age?”

  “Sorry. I couldn’t begin to guess. Bangs covered the forehead, sunglasses covered the eyes and gloves hid his hands.”

  Two hours later, Terrell was staring at the police artist’s sketch of the man-woman Henry Levitt had seen. He didn’t need to compare it with the one Luke had to know that the lower part of the face was similar. Even the police artist made a comment about it. Damn Luke for asking him to do that second drawing and calling attention to himself.

  Terrell had Levitt read and sign the report he’d completed while Levitt was with the artist. “I would strongly suggest you not speak to anyone else about this, especially not the media. If you saw the murderer, we don’t want him to find that out.”

  Levitt looked at him directly. “Do you think he might kill me too?”

  Terrell heard the words he didn’t say aloud. Levitt would not object to a swift death at this point rather than the slow deterioration
he was experiencing. “You may be our only witness, Mr. Levitt. We need you alive. In fact, I’d like to make arrangements for someone to stay with you.”

  He shook his head. “If I don’t have to have someone strange hanging around, I’d rather not. I had been thinking of visiting my brother in San Francisco for a while. Would that be okay?”

  “Actually, that’s a very good idea. Just give me his phone number and address in case I need to reach you.”

  After Levitt left, Terrell placed a call to Sheriff Patterson’s office. That was another unusual thing about this case. He’d been given a written instruction to call the sheriff directly with any new piece of information. Something was up, and so far, he couldn’t see what it was.

  One thing was certain. He wished to hell Luke hadn’t come to Los Angeles, hadn’t met the senator and had never seen that stupid picture in the paper. His idea that Theodore Jones could be The Eye Doctor was completely off the wall. Impossible. But because Luke had said it aloud, Terrell couldn’t seem to forget it. And it didn’t help that the police artist noted that the jawline and mouth of the woman Levitt saw looked similar to the one he’d drawn for “Mr. Brown” last week.

  With the sheriff’s special interest in this case, how long would it be before he heard about that other sketch and questioned Terrell about Mr. Brown? How would he explain why he didn’t write up an official report on that man’s complaint?

  Thank God Luke had taken his advice and returned to North Carolina while he still had the opportunity.

  * * *

  On the drive back to the motel, Luke’s mind finally stopped racing enough for him to sort out the events of the last hour. He never realized the human body could experience so many different emotions all at the same time without breaking down.

  Running into Jones unexpectedly, and having him recall that he’d been seated next to the detective handling the Neuman murder, still had his stomach churning. And having another opportunity to look into that man’s eyes at close range reinforced the possibility in his mind that he, or rather his brother, could be The Eye Doctor, no matter how crazy it sounded.

 

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