“Uh, no, I never gave them...”
Oliver cleared his throat. “You sure about that, Benson?”
“That’s of no real concern," Thompson sneered at Oliver. "Since you’re about to die.” She turned toward District Attorney Sullivan. “Mr. Sullivan, if we kill these two right now, what will happen in terms of an investigation?”
Sullivan stared at her. “Big balls you got under that skirt.”
“That's..." Jeffers broke in quickly, "Sullivan's way of complimenting you, Bar...Ms. Thompson. Please take no offense.” Thompson gritted her teeth but kept silent.
“Well, let’s see.” Sullivan said, leaning back in his chair. “Collinson isn’t a problem, but with all the publicity of the last few months, Peidmont could be.” The attorney paused, lost in thought. “I should be able to handle any investigation.”
Barbara Thompson looked unconvinced. “What about the other police departments? Can you deal with them as well?”
“If you’re referring to Chief Dawson,” Sullivan responded sarcastically. “He’s a puppet and about as smart. Don’t worry, he does what I say and everybody knows it.”
She nodded, satisfied. “Can we arrange for Mrs. McKenny to die as well, perhaps an unfortunate reaction to her current medication?”
“Seven dead people within a week,” Benson remarked, “would be tough to explain, no matter how good the cover story.”
Ms. Thompson spun on Jeffers. “You said only Jenel and an informant had been killed.”
“Damn!” Oliver snapped his fingers. “Another little thing they didn’t mention.” He smiled at the flushed woman. “I’ll bet they told you Mrs. McKenny killed Jenel. Truth is, he had a heart attack and that should come out in the autopsy report, since Mrs. McKenny’s told the police about that already. Then the police will want to know why he had a bullet in his heart.”
Jeffers whirled and came at Oliver, his massive fists poised to strike, nearly forcing him to reach for the small revolver tucked beneath his pant leg.
“Mr. Jeffers!” Thompson’s shout halted the giant only two feet from Oliver. “Stop your asinine behavior, NOW!”
Slowly, reluctantly, the executive faced her.
“I need a clear picture of this entire situation,” Thompson said. “Now sit down and tell me all you know so I can fix this mess you’ve created.”
Red-faced, Jeffers did as he was told.
For once, something’s going my way, Oliver thought as he listened to Jeffers’ unedited version of what had happened to Jenny, Hana and the trail of the documents.
Fifteen minutes later, Williams turned and stared at Dawson in the darkness of the car.
“Heard enough to call in some units, Henry?”
“Damn you! Patrick!” The older cop hissed as he clenched his weathered fists as they rested on his knees. “I suppose you enjoyed this!”
Williams lifted his shoulders, shrugging. “Not really, Henry, I only wanted you to see that the wolves were in the hen house. I’m sorry to do it this way, but your own bull-headedness forced me to it.”
“I suppose," Dawson turned to look at Williams. "I should thank you for sparing Ruth. A lesser man might not have.”
Williams remembered that the women were still outside in the cold and tapped lightly on the horn. A moment later, cold but invigorated, the two wives slipped into the back seat.
“How was your talk, ladies?” Dawson said as the two woman bundled into the back seat.
“Quite enjoyable,” Ruth replied with agreement from Shelly.
Dawson turned as the two women breathed into their cupped hands. “Patrick, mind if I make a quick call? I need to take care of something you reminded me about.”
“I’ll be right back, ladies,” Dawson said unlatching the car door. “In these hills, I’ll get better reception outside the car.” With that, he stepped outside, anger and pain etched on the old cop’s face.
“...And that’s everything?” Thompson’s tone was doubtful. "You haven’t forgotten some detail that will hang us down the line?”
“Yes, that’s all of it. I didn’t want...”
“Don’t make excuses!” Thompson said cutting Jeffers off. “In the big chair, you’re responsible for everything.”
It was obvious Jeffers wouldn’t be sitting in “The Big Chair” any longer. Oliver realized he was enjoying this, especially when he recalled how Jeffers allowed Jenny to be shot. Time to twist the knife, he decided.
“Actually, Ms. Thompson,” Oliver raised his hand as if he was in school. “I believe Mr. Jeffers failed to mention Jenel’s secret taping room.” Oliver withdrew the CD and held it up. “Agent Benson was kind enough to help us find this CD which shows Detective Hana shooting Mrs. McKenny.”
“You know, Oliver,” Collinson nodded in agreement, amusement on his lips. “I do believe he skipped that little tidbit.”
Jeffers suddenly leaped at Oliver and wrenched the CD from Oliver’s hand even as a small pistol appeared in Ms. Thompson’s. Suddenly Benson looked unsure of who to aim his own gun at and Sullivan rose from his chair as if to leave.
“Stay where you are, Jeffers. Sullivan, you might as well sit back down too.” Thompson’s voice had a steel edge to it now. “You too, Benson,” she turned to the agent, then gestured toward Oliver. “Is what he said, true?”
“Barbara,” Jeffers pleaded, staying very still. “You must believe me, Peidmont’s just trying to turn us against each other.”
Pistol in hand, Thompson ignored Jeffers. “Well, Benson?”
The agent took a deep breath, then exhaled as he addressed the woman.
“I can’t say if the CD is incriminating, but yes, there is a room all right. We saw you three on a monitor about forty-five minutes ago.” Oliver watched Jeffers sag, small and defeated.
Sullivan, who’d been quiet during all this, now stirred. “It's clear things have gotten away from Paul, Ms. Thompson.”
“Shut up, Sullivan!” Jeffers shouted.
“You’re a fool, Paul,” Sullivan shot back, coldly. “You could never have stepped into Jenel’s shoes.”
Thompson waved her gun toward the bickering men.
“Both of you, be quiet! Can’t you see we’re missing something?”
“What do you mean?” Sullivan asked, warily.
Thompson didn’t respond but walked to where Oliver sat, the small pistol held loosely in her hand.
“You’ve certainly been helpful, Detective, for a man who’s about to die.”
“What can I say?” Oliver replied. “I’m just that kind of guy.” He watched her strain to make sense of his calm.
Thompson whirled about, staring straight at Benson.
“Tell me you searched them, Benson. Tell me you searched the cops for wires!”
It was not a question, but a command.
“I....I mean....” Benson sputtered, and then could only shake his head in answer.
“It doesn’t matter, Ms. Thompson,” Jeffers rallied one final time, a touch of hysteria to his voice. “We’re several stories underground, surrounded by tons of reinforced concrete. There’s no way he could be transmitting to somebody!”
Pure hatred washed over Thompson’s face as her voice rose with each spoken syllable. “Then tell me, YOU IDIOT!” she screamed. “How did we contact you through our communicator?”
Jeffers opened his mouth, struggled to reply and finally gave up, his face pasty white.
She turned back to Oliver, and instinctively, he stood up from his chair. She tucked her small pistol in her skirt, then pushed his coat off his shoulders. Without hesitation, she ripped open his shirt and sent buttons everywhere. Her eyes grew wide at the small, but sophisticated listening device taped to the inside of his bullet proof vest, the small microphone visible.
Oliver leaned forward, drawing the device nearer to the stricken woman.
“Say hello to Chief Dawson and Chief Williams, Ms. Thompson.” He grinned. "As well as some interested government agencies who lo
aned us this new hi-tech toy.” In retrospect it was a mistake to volunteer this since Ms. Thompson’s pupils shrunk to the size of pinheads as he spoke these words.
In a clarity of mind he’d seldom experienced, Oliver watched the delicate looking pistol reappear in Thompson's hand, even as the sound of cops thundered down the hallway toward their location. Oliver sat transfixed as with a wild shriek of rage, Ms. Thompson spun about, firing every last bullet within her small weapon into Paul Jeffers' chest.
“If there’s one thing I cannot tolerate,” Ms. Thompson stated calmly, just before what seemed like every cop on the Monterey Peninsula, burst into the room. " ...it is an incompetent man!"
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Nine o’clock the following morning Oliver headed to Community Hospital, located on the hill which separated Monterey and Carmel. Surrounded by a forest of pines, he hunted for a parking space that wouldn’t require a ten minute hike. Five minutes later he was still circling the hospital parking lot and in frustration, pulled into a space at its far corner. With a grumble that was part sigh, he began the walk toward the hospital and Jenny.
He was nearly there when a southern voice called out. “Oliver! Oliver, dear!”
He turned to see Dr. Alicia Merrill, hurrying toward him.
“Alicia, hello!” he said. “How are you?”
She halted before him, her breath somewhat ragged.
“Tired, Oliver,” she replied. “More tired than you can possibly know.”
“Let me guess," he said, “Collin McKinney?”
After several more deep breaths, Dr. Merrill took his arm and they continued toward the hospital entrance.
“He’s an amazing person, Oliver, a fascinating case study, really.”
Oliver snorted.
“If you say so but if it were anybody but you, Alicia, I’d say he was playing you for the fool.”
She gave his arm a gentle squeeze and graced him with a weary smile.
“It’s very difficult to fake Multiple Personality Disorder for long, Oliver. It’s exhausting to observe and I assure you, even more exhausting to fake.” As they neared the hospital, she slowed her steps and they halted just outside the main entrance. “Actually, I believe you were the first to meet Phillip?”
“Phillip?”
She pulled him toward a nearby bench, the hospital's fountain splashing in the background.
“Phillip is the emerging personality," she explained patiently. "He is the individual who surfaced in my office yesterday and the one you met, following his repeated shocks with the taser. He’s also the one who called you at the hospital yesterday, claiming to be your brother.”
Oliver gaped at the doctor. “That wasn’t Collin?”
“No,” she laughed. “Though it was a good imitation of his counterpart, I must say."
Shaking his head in amazement, Oliver asked what seemed the obvious question.
“So how did Collin create this Phillip and why?”
“Those are very good questions, Oliver!” Dr. Merrill sat back against the bench.
“Why?” he asked with a smile, taking the bait.
“Because Phillip claims to be the core personality,” she replied, one eyebrow raised.
“What does that mean?" Oliver asked with a laugh. "Minus the psycho-babble, please?”
“Well, if true, it means that Phillip existed first and that Collin was the created personality, apparently to deal with severe trauma in his younger boyhood.”
Oliver suddenly understood why, at times, he’d felt a strange compassion for Collin. “Boyhood trauma, eh. Pretty bad?”
“According to Phillip, his father abused him in every way imaginable. Murdered his mother right in front of him when he was thirteen and just telling me about this brought Collin to the surface for several hours.” She shook her head sadly. “His case affirms the old adage, ‘Sadists are made, not born.'”
Oliver thought about this as Dr. Merrill stood to leave.
“So what happens to Collin or Phillip or whoever he is now?” he asked, standing.
“I won’t bore you with the details, Oliver dear,” she winked. “The two personalities will have to go through a fusion process, because whether they like it or not, they exist in a single body.” She sighed again, her tiredness and age suddenly evident. “It will take a long, long time and the success rate for such a treatment is not impressive. But I have hope.”
Dr. Merrill adjusted her coat to the other arm. “Well, Oliver, I must go see my patient. He’s here for the next seventy-two hours for his own protection and I must work to strengthen Phillip’s hold, in order for him to stay present longer. Needless to say, Collin is not terribly happy about this turn of events.”
Both smiled sadly as they stepped through the hospital entrance, bid each other good-bye and walked in opposite directions.
Oliver walked into Jenny’s room as two nurses finished replacing the bandages to her abdomen. Lying on the bed and looking slightly pale from the process, Jenny sent him a smile nonetheless.
“Hey, Mr. Detective!” She waved him closer as the nurses cleaned up and left. “Gossip around here says you caught the bad guys with their pants down and more than a few things exposed.”
Pulling the chair near to the bed, Oliver sat and took her hand in his. “You’ve been talking to Wanda, and she’s been talking to Willy.”
“Guilty as charged," she said with a slight wince. “What’s my sentence?”
He stood up and kissed her lightly on the lips. “Very severe, a whole lot of these.”
“With such punishment,” she laughed after returning his kiss. "I’ll become the subject of town gossip.”
“Justice must be served, my dear,” he responded laughing as he sat down again. “But yes, your ‘sources’ spoke the truth. We bagged a bigger fish than we’d hoped and right this minute, a veritable gaggle of federal agents are combing every inch of JenelCo. I’m sure you’ve heard that Jeffers is dead, shot by one of Jenel’s compatriots and now she and Jack Sullivan now sit in my former cell. She, for murder and his involvement with JenelCo. Agent Benson was whisked away in handcuffs late last night by a suspicious looking jet that flew into the Monterey airport and flew out fifteen minutes later. All very hush, hush." ”
She grinned impishly. “So how’d you manage all this?”
“Well, actually,” he said. “Two people made it happen and you’ll be surprised to hear that Collin was one of them...sort of.”
“Collin?”
“Surprisingly, yes.” Oliver began stroking her hand. “He told me about Benson, who it turned out, was working for JenelCo.”
“Why’d you say sort of?”
“Jenny," Oliver paused before speaking. “What do you know about Collin’s childhood?”
Apparently surprised by the question, she hesitated. “Well, actually, not much considering I was married to the guy. He was given up for adoption and raised in foster care. He’d get real mad if I brought it up, which naturally wasn’t often.”
“Did he ever say anything...?” Oliver shifted in the chair, “about his mother or father?”
“No.” Jenny slipped her hand free of his and adjusted the bed upward slightly, as if on a beach recliner. “He said he couldn’t remember much before twelve or thirteen, something about a fall.” Her eyes narrowed. “why?”
“I..." He fell silent, unsure of how to proceed. I really can’t answer that, Jenny, but I’ll bring somebody by who can.”
Jenny bristled. “Oliver, don’t you dare...”
“Believe me,” he said emphatically. “You’ll understand why, when you know. The other person,” he said changing the subject, "who helped bring JenelCo down was Benson’s partner.”
Though obviously irritated, she nonetheless took the bait. “Who?”
“A guy by the name of Thomas Flanders, an FBI agent in his own right who was sent to help Benson with his investigation. As it turns out, it was your friend, Carol, who approached the FBI about the g
oings on at JenelCo, not the other way around. Unfortunately, they assigned Benson to her and by then, he was already working for JenelCo.”
“So Carol wasn’t an FBI agent like Benson claimed?" Her face grew sad.
“No, just a citizen concerned over some things she’d stumbled onto.”
“For the last four months,” Oliver continued, “Benson’s had Flanders running all over the state on false leads. On Thursday, he tried to pin the fire at Carol’s house on Willy Johnson, even though Flanders saw the blaze start only minutes after Benson left the garage. That was enough to confirm Flanders' suspicions and the next day he reported them to his superiors in San Francisco.
“Once I learned about Benson’s relationship with JenelCo, I called my own friends in the FBI down in LA. After comparing notes, they agreed to fly up some special high-tech equipment to eavesdrop on the goings on at JenelCo, and for once, everything fell into place at just the right time.”
He took her hand once again, staring at its perfect softness. “By the way, all charges against you were dropped.”
"Yeah," she said, nodding. "Chief Williams came by earlier. He has a really nice wife, by the way. I really like her.”
Oliver smiled incredulously. “Chief Williams came by earlier?”
“Yeah," Jenny yawned. "Around seven this morning.”
“On a Saturday morning," he shook his head. "The man does not sleep!”
“You look like you could use a little yourself, my dear.”
“I got a few hours, once all the excitement died down.”
The door behind him squeaked slightly.
“Hello there, Lover Boy!” Wanda called as she bustled into the room. “Stopped by to see your sweetheart, I see.”
“Hello Wanda,” he said turning. “I heard you’ve been gossiping.”
Wanda began to change the bag of fluid on Jenny’s IV. “Gossiping is a sin, Detective and I only speak what is true-you might say I'm spreading the good news. Besides, Willy is my favorite nephew and we talk most every day. Just so happens we talked this morning.”
“I stand corrected,” he said, laughing.
Bay of Deception Page 21