Twisted Hunger

by Marilyn Campbell

  Beside the coffee shop was a full-service beauty salon with a sign in the window that caught his attention. They offered people the opportunity to see what they would look like in different hair colors and styles with the help of a computer program.

  He hurried back to the motel room, picked up the serious photo of Jones and returned to the salon.

  “I know this sounds crazy,” he said, turning on his charm for the manager. “But I have a friend who played a really rotten practical joke on me, and I’m trying to get him back. Could you use your computer to put a woman’s hairdo on this man?”

  The manager laughed aloud when she recognized the senator. “Tell me what you plan to do with it and I’ll think about it.”

  Luke’s eyes twinkled mischievously. “I’m going to set my friend up on a blind date.”

  She shook her finger at him. “Your friend may never forgive you.”

  Luke grinned. “He deserves it, believe me.”

  “Well then, maybe I can help.” In a conspiratorial voice, she added, “But if anyone asks, I’ll deny that we had anything to do with it.”

  Winking, he used the same tone. “Mum’s the word, ma’am.”

  Her eyes said she thought he was adorable, and his smile broadened for her.

  “We’re not too busy this morning,” she said. “If you’re not in a big rush, and you’re willing to spend ten dollars more, our nail tech could do a little fine art on his face to make it look like he’s wearing makeup.”

  Luke had been hoping she wouldn’t throw him out of her shop. Having her assistance was definitely worth the extra ten dollars plus a nice tip.

  An hour later, every woman in the salon was in on the “joke” and looking at Luke with personal interest. But with Ellery’s face still fresh in his mind, and most of that mind preoccupied with The Eye Doctor, dating wasn’t anywhere on this week’s program.

  The end result of the project was phenomenal. No one would ever guess the attractive woman in the photograph was a man, let alone the well-known senator, sporting a hairstyle similar to the one the police artist had put on the aged image of the psycho whore. If it wasn’t totally illogical, he might even think the killer was the senator himself. No one in such a public position could hide a secret like that for over two decades. Whereas his stuttering, shy, pushed-aside, nearly identical yet older brother would have few problems leading a double life. He existed in his brother’s shadow, not a bad place for a psychopath to hide.

  Luke paid for an extra print to send to Terrell, profusely thanked the ladies for their help then headed back to his room with one more piece of evidence for his case against Theodore Roosevelt Jones, alias The Eye Doctor.

  He had previously come to the conclusion that Terrell would need a mountain of proof before giving credence to Luke’s theory. However, after running into Jones and having him recall his connection to Terrell, it occurred to him that as he continued to pursue hard evidence against the senator’s brother, his life could be put in jeopardy. If something fatal happened to him, he wanted Terrell to know why—and who was the likeliest suspect.

  After trimming off the motel stationery’s masthead, he wrote Terrell a note, telling him about the dates and locations that he’d been able to compare so far, then took it and the photo to the main branch of the Sacramento post office to mail in one of their generic priority mail envelopes, with no return address. Under no circumstances did he want Terrell to know exactly where he was staying for fear the big guy would be tempted to personally escort him back to Charlotte.

  * * *

  “Ms. Oliver is here, sir,” Ellery announced over the intercom while smiling at Diane.

  “Very good. Have her come in.”

  As she led the way, Ellery told Diane, “It looks like I might be able to leave at a reasonable hour today. Before he got the call to return to L.A., Brandon and I were planning to see the new Schwarzenegger movie. How do you feel about men who can leap tall buildings and yet have bigger breasts than you?”

  “You just described my fantasy date. Count me in.”

  “Miss Winters?” the senator called before she could close the door behind Diane. “Could you please have someone run downstairs to my car? I filled the gas tank last night and I think I left my wallet on the front seat.”

  “Certainly.” She took the keys he held out to her then went back to her desk. She was about to buzz for a runner when she remembered the promise she’d made to Brevowski in their last conversation. With all the things that had been going on, she nearly forgot about his “suggestion” that she check on the senator in more personal ways.

  Rather than delegate the errand, she went down to the parking garage herself. After letting the security guard know what she was doing, she headed for the senator’s white Chrysler sedan with the tinted windows. As she unlocked the door on the driver’s side, she tried to think the way a spy might.

  First, she agreed with Brevowski that it was definitely unusual for a man in the senator’s position to insist on driving himself around so often, regardless of what she’d said at the time.

  Second, she considered his choice of automobile terribly ordinary for someone of his stature. She would have thought he’d at least drive a big, black Cadillac or something equally prestigious and official-looking. His car looked like thousands of others on the road. On the other hand, if she were someone famous who liked to drive herself around to unwind, she might also pick a very inconspicuous car.

  The wallet wasn’t on the seat, so she slid inside to check the floor. It was there, on the passenger’s side, but now that she was in the car, she knew she had to take the opportunity to check it out thoroughly.

  The mileage odometer attested to the fact that the senator loved to drive. Although the car was barely a year old, it had over thirty thousand miles on it already. Of course, frequent trips between Sacramento and his residence in Sausalito and Vivian’s parents’ home in Santa Monica could account for that.

  In the door pockets were maps of Sacramento, San Francisco, Los Angeles and the states of California and Nevada. They had all been used often enough to be frayed along the folds. The glove compartment contained the usual ownership papers and manuals, and there was nothing else anywhere inside the car, not even loose change under the seats.

  She was about to get out when she realized she was holding something very personal of the senator’s—his wallet. Her conscience fled into hiding as she opened the leather billfold. A piece of folded note paper fell onto her lap. Everything else in the wallet was ordinary items that belonged there. She made herself unfold the paper and saw that it was a phone number with a Los Angeles area code.

  It probably belonged to a colleague who had run out of business cards or something else just as easily explained, but she knew a good spy wouldn’t ignore it. She committed the number to memory, then put it back in the wallet the way she’d found it.

  The only thing left to check was the trunk, and again she had to hush her conscience before going ahead with what she had promised to do. As soon as she opened the trunk lid a foul smell entered her nostrils. It took her a moment to realize that it reminded her of biology class and dissecting frogs. It was the unmistakable odor of formaldehyde.

  Upon closer inspection, she could tell that the flat floor of the trunk had a slightly different shade of gray carpet than what was on the raised portions. There was no way of knowing for sure, but she deduced that the original piece of carpet must have been damaged and replaced very recently. She congratulated herself on being observant, but her discovery was hardly grounds to suspect Jones of treasonous activities.

  Because she was so observant, she noticed that whoever had done the job on the carpet hadn’t been very meticulous. One corner was loose and slightly buckled. She pressed her fingers to the edge to try to straighten it and felt something underneath that was preventing it from lying flat.

  Careful not to pull up more of the carpet than was already detached, she lifted the edge to see what
was beneath. What she saw made no sense. It was a California license plate. She compared the numbers to those on the tag on the rear of the car to see if it was a duplicate, but they didn’t match.

  Why would the senator have two different license plates? Better question, why would he hide one of them?

  Then she read the words “Orange County” on the one in the trunk and became more bewildered. As far as she knew, Jones had never lived in Orange County, so why would he have a car registered down there?

  As much as she admired the man, she had to admit this was strange enough to be considered suspicious. The instant after she had that thought, a logical explanation came to her. Since he drove an inconspicuous car to keep from being easily recognized, he might have a second license plate to throw off any bothersome media trying to track him down.

  But why would he hide it? Since no easy answer came to her, she pressed the carpet back down the way she’d found it. With nothing left to examine, she closed the trunk and was about to lock the doors when she heard a hushed “Pssst.”

  Her heart slammed against her rib cage. Was she about to be attacked? Or had someone caught her spying? She didn’t know which she dreaded more.

  She glanced anxiously around and finally saw Brevowski motioning to her from a squatting position behind another car.

  “You scared the hell out of me,” she scolded as she crouched down beside him. “What are you doing here? Did the guard see you?”

  “The guard has been distracted for a few minutes and the security cameras have been momentarily jammed. But I don’t want to take any chances of someone seeing us together. It would certainly be easier to have impromptu meetings if you weren’t quite so… eye-catching.”

  “Well, excuse me,” she retorted in a snippy tone. “Perhaps you’d prefer me to dress like a bag lady while I’m sneaking around doing your dirty business.”

  “I apologize for frightening you. I heard an opportunity to speak to you and I grabbed it.”

  She narrowed her eyes at him. “I already figured out that you have the phones tapped, but that doesn’t explain— You have his offices bugged too, don’t you? Oh no, don’t tell me you have a video camera in there.” Immediately she tried to think if she had ever said or done anything embarrassing that he might now have on tape.

  “No cameras, I assure you. As to everything else, you’re better off not knowing certain aspects of what I do. I told you I would be watching you for your protection. You’ll just have to trust me about how I do that. We don’t have much time. Have you found anything?”

  She was still annoyed at him, but to show that she was doing her best to keep up her part of their agreement, she showed him the phone number in Jones’ wallet and told him about the new carpet in the trunk. “It’s not the kind of thing you’re looking for, but like I’ve said before, I really don’t think there’s anything earth-shattering for me to find.”

  He studied her face for a moment, then said, “There was something else, wasn’t there? I must ask you to let me decide what is and isn’t important. You just pass everything on to me.”

  She sighed. He was right. If there was even the tiniest possibility that Jones had anything to do with her mother’s death, she could not allow herself to feel protective of him. “I’m sure there must be a reasonable explanation, but I can’t think of what it could be.” She told him about finding the license plate and gave him the number.

  “Excellent work, Ellery,” he said, rewarding her with a smile. “I know this doesn’t sit well with you, but it’s all going to pay off. I’m sorry to have to push you even harder, but our time is running out.”

  “What do you mean, harder?”

  “You’ve got to get into his home in Sausalito, where your mother had her heart attack.”

  She shook her head. “I lucked out with an excuse to go through his car and wallet. There’s no way I could inspect his home.”

  “You could, if you were invited,” he stated firmly.

  His implication was clear enough once she reminded herself that he could hear everything that went on in the senator’s office. “You mean the Jones’ dinner party next weekend. Well, that could work, if I had any reason to be there, but I don’t. All the guests are influential Republican Party officials and their spouses.”

  “Considering your own political aspirations, I would think that dinner might be one you would want to attend, even without any urging from me.”

  Naturally the thought had occurred to her, but she hadn’t seen any way to get herself invited. Perhaps Brevowski was right about this also. She had to try a little harder. “I’ll work on it,” she assured him without promising results. “If we’re finished here, I should be getting back.”

  “A few more minutes, if you please. You’ve been a very busy lady since I spoke to you last. I can’t order you not to go out on dates with old friends or not to strike up new friendships, but I must remind you that you’re in a very precarious position.”

  “I know,” she said before he could repeat his warnings. “Trust no one. Brandon Ross is an old friend, one I know well enough not to trust, but not for the reasons you have. And since you’ve been listening in, you know the woman who joined us for dinner last night is Diane Oliver, a professional image consultant referred to the senator by his own mother. Any other questions?”

  “What about the man you had lunch with yesterday?”

  She tilted her head at him. “Why don’t you tell me about him?”

  He frowned. “I have no idea what you mean by that.”

  “Are you saying you didn’t send him to check up on me?”

  “No, he’s not one of my… acquaintances. And if I send someone, I’ll make sure you know about it. Did he say or do something that made you suspicious of him?”

  She was slightly relieved to learn that he wasn’t able to listen in on every word she said outside the office, but she wasn’t sure how she felt about learning that Luke hadn’t come from Brevowski. “I’m not sure. I mean it wasn’t anything specific. It was just a general sort of suspiciousness, if that makes any sense. Do you think he could have been sent by someone else to spy on me?”

  His frown deepened. “It’s certainly possible. What has he told you about himself?” He made a few notes as she related details that she remembered from their two conversations. “Did he ask to see you again?”

  “Yes, but I turned him down.”

  “Did he tell you how to contact him if you changed your mind?”

  She had a bad feeling about where his questions were leading. “Yes.”

  “You should do it then. Contact him and stay in contact, at least until I can verify who he is.”

  “Why would I—” She cut herself off. “Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer.”

  He smiled. “True, but that’s not exactly the reason I had in mind. If he has been sent to spy on you, and you don’t let him near you, they’ll just send someone else until they’ve sent someone you feel comfortable with. At least this way, you would know who the enemy is.”

  She clucked her tongue. “I don’t think he’s an enemy, he was just…” She couldn’t think of any words to explain what it was about him that bothered her.

  He shook his head and sighed. “Unfortunately, Ellery, in my business, I have to assume people are enemies until I’ve confirmed otherwise, and even then, it’s still smart to watch my back. If you don’t think you can handle this guy, it’s okay to say so.”

  Ellery’s spine straightened in response. “I’m not afraid of him. I just… wasn’t interested. But if you think I should keep him close, figuratively speaking, then I’ll contact him.”

  “In case he’s a professional, don’t do anything to try to trip him up. All you want to do is make him believe you trust him, and be sure to reveal nothing of your true mission. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

  She clucked her tongue again. “My intelligence quotient is far above average. I understand perfectly. Now if there isn’t
anything else, I really need to get back to my office.”

  “I think that’s it for now. Go on.”

  She opened the car door then turned back to him. “How will you get out of here without the guard questioning you?”

  “Don’t worry about it. Just go.”

  The guard waved at her as she headed for the stairwell, and she waved back. She would love to hang around to see how Brevowski was going to get out without being seen, but she had an appointment with Vivian Jones in a half hour and several calls to return before that. Besides, Brevowski had given her something much bigger to think about than his cloak and dagger tricks.

  Although he had assured her she didn’t have to make contact with Luke, his reasoning made sense. Wouldn’t it be better to know who your enemy was? If she didn’t let Luke get close to her, the next person they sent might not be so easy to figure out.

  Why, it could even be someone like Diane—without Mother Jones’ reference, of course. Someone she felt so comfortable around, she would never suspect her.

  Her speculations came to an abrupt halt when she heard someone else’s quick footsteps on the stairs. She stood still and confirmed that they were coming toward her from above rather than below, which eased her momentary panic that she had been followed into the stairwell. She rationalized that the panicky feeling was only a leftover reaction from Brevowski’s surprise appearance combined with the fact that, during all the times she’d used the stairs, she had never passed another person doing the same.

  Telling herself how foolish she was being, she started climbing again, only to come to another abrupt halt when she saw Senator Jones coming toward her. Dear God! If he had been a few minutes earlier, he’d have caught her meeting with Brevowski. The mere thought of that made the panic flood back.