Bay of Deception

by Timothy Allan Pipes

  The sound of a door brushing across carpet pulled her back to the present and she turned.

  “Hello, Jenny,” Jenel said, shutting the door behind him before walking toward her. She noticed he was now wearing perfectly tailored gray slacks, a dark blue shirt with a light blue sports coat. “I’m pleased you’re awake.”

  She unfolded herself in the chair, then set about straightening her hair, deliberately refusing to look at him.

  “Show’s over, Jenel. You’ve enjoyed your fun, so let's drop the pretenses.”

  “Jenny," he said, peering at her. "You disappoint me.”

  She felt him draw close and the touch of his hand lifted her chin until their gazes locked. How long they stayed in that position Jenny didn’t know, but she was determined to not lower her eyes and, finally, his hand pulled away.

  “Yes," Jenel said, chuckling. "I suspected as much but I must say, Jenny. I actually thought you might be enjoying yourself at times.”

  “Only in your sick dreams, Jenel.” Her face grew hot at his chuckle and abruptly she stood to face him. “If that’s your idea of decent sex, I see just how pathetic your sex life's become. You never even came close to touching the real me, only my body.”

  “Why in god’s name would I want to touch the ‘real’ you," Jenel’s chuckle grew as he said this. "As if that were something special.”

  Jenny took a swing at him but the CEO easily side-stepped her attack and using her own momentum, threw her onto the bed.

  “Oh don’t worry Jenny, I've got the part I wanted,” Jenel said as he headed back toward the door. "You and I fucking, in ultra high definition. When you’re dead, I’ll pull this out to remember the time I owned you.” Then his grin widened, sadistically.

  “I think I'll show it to your cop just before I kill him. You know...let him see what you and I were up to while he was desperately trying to save you.”

  Oliver fought a growing sense of despair as he drove to a small turnoff along the coast. Desperately hoping to find a way out of this situation, he was still trying as he pulled off the road, shifted the car into neutral and shut the engine off. He stared at the man who was sitting beside him, looking somewhat ruffled after his extraction from the back seat of the patrol car, now handcuffed to the right front door handle, a strange look of innocence on his face.

  “Okay," Oliver said, taking a deep breath. "If you don’t remember your last name, why don’t you tell me what you do remember!”

  A furrow developed across McKenny’s brow and Oliver saw he was really trying. Finally, a smile appeared.

  “I remember playing football.” McKenny's face grew excited, searching Oliver’s. “I’m...a football player, aren’t I, mister?”

  Without answering, Oliver leaned his head against the steering wheel and wondered how the situation had gotten to this point. McKenny had become his ace in the hole and yet almost from the very start, the man had slipped out of his grasp. He'd had a shot at beating Jenel at his own game, so long as he could keep McKenny running scared. Without him, Oliver was left to search already searched houses and hunt down leads that were growing cold, all while the clock ticked down. He was screwed, Jenny was screwed and with McKenny locked away in his own head, there was very little he could do about it.

  McKenny interrupted his ‘planning session.’ “I think I want a lawyer, mister, and maybe a doctor, too.” A few seconds passed. “Hey, mister, did ya hear me....”

  Oliver leaned back against the seat and looked at McKenny...staring, yet not really seeing or hearing what he said.

  “Yeah, sure," Oliver said, distracted. He screwed up his eyes, then turned once again to his prisoner. “You said you wanted a lawyer and...” Oliver’s breath caught as a spark ignited within his mind. “A doctor.”

  “That’s right." McKenny rattled his handcuffs against the door handle. "If you aren’t going to arrest me or take me to jail, then I want to see a lawyer. I do have rights, you know...no matter what I’ve done.”

  Oliver continued to stare blankly at McKenny, his mind struggling to catch up. Then relief spread across his face.

  “I agree with you.” Oliver nodded, starting the engine. “A man in your condition needs a doctor as soon as possible.”

  Willy had just let out a sigh when he heard the sound of a car pulling up the driveway. He walked to the living room with his gun drawn, then pulled aside the drapes to see who had had pulled up. Through the sheer curtain lining he saw Oliver walk by his gray Ford Taurus and holstered his weapon, then noticed the figure of McKenny sitting quietly in the car parked behind his own. This struck Willy as being a bit like inviting a wolf to watch the sheep and yet Oliver appeared unconcerned as he entered the house.

  “Willy, sorry I’m late,” Oliver said, shaking his hand. “I’ve had one hell of a morning, one I’ll tell you about when this thing's over.”

  “No problem, Ollie.” Willy led him toward the kitchen.

  “Found anything yet?”

  Willy stopped at the counter and picked up the small stack of papers.

  “I’ve just finished most of the boxed stuff so I suppose it’s time to come up for air.” He handed the stack to Oliver. “The only thing that stood out were these Health and Life insurance contracts.”

  Oliver took the papers and perused them for a few seconds. “They seem pretty standard to me. What made them interesting?”

  Willy pulled a small folded slip of paper from his jeans. “I found those forms tucked away in a small shoe box at the back of her closet, along with this small piece of paper.”

  Oliver unfolded the slip and read the typed name on it before tucking it into his shirt pocket. Just as Willy had done himself, Oliver reopened the insurance forms and finally noticed who the beneficiaries were.

  “Willy,” Oliver looked up at him in puzzlement, “what the hell was Carol Montoya doing with Collin McKenny’s insurance papers?”

  Oliver climbed back into his car and though he was tempted to ask McKenny about the papers, he resisted and simply backed out of the driveway. Though not pleased with the delay, McKenny had put up only a mild fuss about stopping by to speak with Willy and had sat quietly in his cruiser.

  Since McKenny’s apparent memory loss, Oliver had noticed how less impulsive and conversely, how much more intelligently the giant conducted himself. This confirmed a long held belief on Oliver’s part that being a jerk was a learned behavior.

  “So who were you taking me to, Detective Peidmont?”

  “Oh, to a friend who helps me on special cases.” Oliver cocked an eyebrow at McKenny. “By the way, I see you remembered my name.”

  “Yeah, but not much else,” McKenny sighed. “It’s weird. I keep seeing flashes of someone falling to the ground in slow-motion, like something out of a movie.”

  Oliver wasn’t sure how much to tell this particular incarnation of McKenny, then wondered why he was even trying to decide. “I guess you still have a conscience, after all, Collin. Maybe breaking a man’s neck is not something you find that easy after all.”

  McKenny’s reaction was surprising. Like a little boy caught stealing, he lacked only the pouty, protruding lower lip.

  “You’re full of shit, Peidmont!” McKenny replied defensively, straining against his cuffs. “Just cause I don’t remember much doesn't mean you can make me believe I’m some kinda killer.”

  As McKenny continued to struggle against his handcuffs, Oliver became more and more grateful for the reinforced steel in both the handcuffs and door frame. Though he knew how to fight, Oliver had learned early on that size could not always be overcome with skill or speed. He decided silence on the way to the good doctor’s office would be a good thing.

  “Jenel!”

  Jenny called after the CEO as he stepped out of the bedroom suite. He halted, turned and looked at her with inquiring amusement.

  “If we’re going to come clean about what happened here, let’s cut to the chase,” Jenny shot him her most dazzling smile when he stepped b
ack into the room and closed the door behind him.

  Jenel stayed just inside as Jenny rose from the bed, then casually sat down to face him in the large wing back chair.

  “I allowed you to have my body because you threatened to kill Oliver if I didn’t.” She pulled both legs to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. “I’ve slept with my share of men, Jenel, from physics professors to some pretty scummy bar flies, but every single one of them had more class than you.”

  She watched his face redden, then continued. “Did you really think that I would like what you did? That I would enjoy being raped by you?” Jenny laughed, surprised to find her sense of humor intact. “I’d honestly have preferred the advances of an old billy goat.”

  Jenny could see his face become set as solid stone, both lips now pursed and white. “And let’s be honest about that high definition video you’re so excited about. You only did that because you need pathetic fantasies to feel like the man you aren’t.” Jenny flung her head back and laughed with as much gusto as she could manage. “And that pathetic little dick of yours...Please! At least Collin had something I could work with!!!”

  The CEOs face suddenly lost its practiced calm as all blood drained out of it. The next moment, he was storming toward her with a rising growl. She was ready by then, legs cocked like a slingshot, her grin piercing and vengeful.

  Ignoring Jenel’s outstretched hands and cat-like yowl, she timed her powerful two-legged thrust perfectly, embedding both feet into the man’s groin with such force the executive’s feet lifted off the carpet by at least a foot. For a brief moment he hung there, impaled on Jenny’s outstretched legs as his face twisted with pain, shock and impotent rage. Then his eyes rolled upward and he fell into a crumpled heap before Jenny. Only the sound of Jenny drawing breath was heard in the suite.

  Alicia Merrill had just arrived at her office in Carmel when the sound of the outer door opening caught her attention. Her first client wasn’t due until eleven and therefore she assumed it was the UPS driver. She rose from her desk and walked into the reception area, expecting to see one of the ‘men in brown’ as she liked to call them. When she entered the waiting room, she saw two very different men standing there.

  “Oliver!” Alicia smiled as she walked toward him. “I’m so glad you stopped by, I was going to give you a call about that question you had.”

  “Thanks, Alicia,” Oliver stammered. “I...um, don’t really need that information anymore.”

  She wanted to ask him why but instead, turned to the huge man beside him.

  “Who is your friend here, Oliver?” That his new friend was handcuffed had not escaped her. Both men seeming very uncomfortable with the situation, each looking like they’d slept on the street.

  “Alicia, I need your help, again. Only, you probably won’t like what I want you to do.”

  “Oliver,” Alicia clasped both hands together. “What you asked last time didn’t please me much, either.” She looked at McKenny and tried to recall his face but failed. “Come into my office and tell me what you need. I can’t promise anything more than a sympathetic ear.”

  She padded back into her office with both men trailing behind. Sitting behind her desk, she watched Oliver make himself comfortable. The same could not be said for his companion however, who seemed too large for just about anything he was near, including the two chairs in her office. Though he eventually squeezed into the largest, it was not without concern on her part that it might never be the same.

  “All right Oliver, my first client will arrive in about twenty-five minutes...so that gives you at least twenty.” Alicia’s smile settled into one of genuine concern as Oliver began his tale and a feeling of warmth overtook her because once again, a former client had called upon her for help.

  By eleven, every room in Carol Montoya’s house had been searched and Willy was about to turn his attention to the garage when he decided that, after nearly six straight hours of searching, a short break for food and drink might be in order. The idea of checking the refrigerator’s contents came to mind but he was gripped by the odd feeling that whatever lay in there shouldn't be touched.

  He was surprised at this, for though he was sensitive to the loss of a life, he had never been the overly superstitious type and often scoffed at other cops good-luck rituals. As he turned from the kitchen to the front door, Willy felt a bit less cynical toward those officers and athletes who always put their right foot in first.

  After locking the door, Willy walked to his car, deactivated its alarm and then wearily climbed in. He knew he could take only a couple of minutes for this excursion and accepted that the purpose of this meal would be fuel rather than enjoyment. Reluctantly he steered his car toward the top of Forest Avenue and the McDonalds located there. This particular establishment, (he refused to call them restaurants) lacked a drive-through and though he would have preferred a salad and maybe a nice pasta, time dictated he eat on the way back.

  Fifteen minutes later, Willy escaped what seemed an endless lunch hour line and was soon on Forest Avenue once again, consuming the burger that barely qualified as food in his mind.

  To his left, black oily smoke caught his attention as it rose toward the late morning sky and it immediately became clear that some kind of structure was on fire. He pressed the accelerator, tossing what remained of his burger onto the passenger’s seat while concentrating on the fastest route toward the now visible flames. His vehicle raced down the length of Sinex before he reached Congress Avenue and saw flames and smoke pouring upward, just blocks away. Only when he recalled that this was the way back to the Montoya residence did he begin to feel uneasy and suspicious.

  A minute or so later, Willy turned onto Sunset and saw that not only was Carol Montoya’s house ablaze, it was now little more than a huge bonfire. A group of neighbors had come to gawk at the spectacle as local fire fighters attempted to bring it under control and all Willy could do was watch the fire consume what remained.

  “Willy Johnson?”

  Willy turned and discovered his door now stood open and the man who'd spoken his name stood dressed in a dark blue suit, law enforcement written all over him.

  “Yes?" he said, suddenly feeling very sick. T

  “Please step out of the car.”

  The badge held before him bore the initials of the FBI and reluctantly, Willy complied, feeling worse with each passing second.

  "Mr. Johnson," the agent continued. "I'm FBI Agent Benson and you’re under arrest for the destruction of evidence in a federal case and as a possible accessory to the murder of FBI Agent, Carol Montoya.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  “Accessory to murder," brought Willy fully awake, aware that murdering an agent, FBI, CIA or otherwise was like no other crime. Federal laws came into play on those occasions and seemed to skirt constitutional mainstays and was one reason why federal prisons existed. Though he had little experience with the federal agencies, he knew their investigations were unusually swift, strangely tidy and almost always ended with convictions that withstood appeals. Willy also knew that cops convicted by such agencies were almost always gone for a long, long time.

  He heard the drone of his rights being read by Benson, felt his wrists pulled behind him and knew handcuffs were not far behind. A crossing point he’d hoped never to see appeared before him, and in that instant, Willy chose to follow his gut.

  Twisting around, he broke the agent’s grip which sent the handcuffs flying several feet away. For a single heartbeat he was afraid the agent might produce a gun but instead, the man simply backed away as a few of Montoya’s neighbors looked on. He and Benson stared at each other for perhaps three seconds before Willy backed himself against his car, then climbed in.

  “Johnson,” the agent called after him. “Don’t be a fool. Perhaps you didn’t kill Montoya, but we saw you leaving the house and a few minutes later, it burst into flames.”

  Willy started the Taurus’s engine and debated responding as he backed into a
neighbor’s driveway, but instead drove off. Why give him words to use against me? Willy thought. In the rearview mirror, he saw Benson run toward a gray car parked behind one of the fire trucks. Then Willy lost sight of him as he turned the corner onto Congress. He took a left at the next street, then cut across another until he reached Pine Avenue, before slowing to the posted speed and that of the cars around him. A few blocks down Pine, the Pacific Grove Police Department came up on his left and it was clear to Willy that only two choices lay before him.

  Shaking, Jenny stepped over Jenel’s prone body and ran toward the curtains located to the bed’s left and pulled them aside. She gaped at the blank wall before her and cursed the designers who thought up such cost effective decorations. She let them fall and turned to survey the entire suite, but could see only the original door through which she’d been led so many hours ago.

  “Shit!”

  Jenny walked to the door, gripped the handle and turned it to no effect. The small, square indentation near the handle nearly slipped her attention as anger within her mounted. Then kneeling, she saw that the inch square screen was the perfect size of a thumb print. Great, she thought. Leave it to Jenel to have state of the art door locks on his bedroom, what ego! She turned toward the CEO’s unmoving form and wondered how long he would remain unconscious.

  Reluctantly, she approached him and for several seconds stood gauging his weight to see if she would be able drag him to the door. Once she decided it was possible, the puddle of saliva below his mouth caught her attention. Then she realized that he’d been utterly still since falling at her feet. Before the idea could take hold, her mind rejected it and she bent down, hoping to see his chest rise and fall. A full minute later it had done neither and Jenny stumbled backward in a frantic attempt to retreat from the dead man.