Mirror Image (Capitol Chronicles Book 4)

by Shirley Hailstock

  Freddie Turner's life revolved around the industry of making and selling clothes. The only out of place item was the design of the evening gown.

  "What's going on?" Turner asked.

  "We're here about an old friend of yours." Coop paused. "Duncan West.”

  Turner smiled.

  "When was the last time you saw him?"

  Turner inched over to his chair and sat down. He leaned back in it and looked at the ceiling. "I haven't seen Duncan since the day he usurped my show." He laughed as if sharing a private joke with the absent Duncan. "I wasn’t cut out for Hollywood. Losing that show was the best thing that ever happened to me."

  Coop kept his eyes on the man. He had the urge to look at Kelly, but years of training had him looking directly at Turner.

  "He took over your show?"

  Turner was already shaking his head before Coop finished the questions. "I had a television show out in Hollywood about eight years ago. Duncan had one, too. His was on the way up, mine down. The old 'a-star-is-born' thing." He waved his hands like a producer, short on time and in a hurry. "My show was pulled and Duncan's went on in its place. God, I hated him. Hated him for years."

  "Have you had any contact with him since?"

  "No." He held onto the word. "What's he doing now? Is he in some kind of trouble?"

  Coop shook his head. "No trouble. He's producing The Marsha Chambers Show."

  "Television?"

  "Yeah."

  "I don't watch it. Don't even own one."

  "Thank you, Mr. Turner. You've been a lot of help."

  “You haven’t told me what this is about. Is Duncan in any trouble?”

  “It’s an ongoing investigation. But no, Duncan isn’t in nay trouble.”

  Coop and Kelly left then. Outside, Coop asked the cop to check out where Mr. Turner had been on the day Aurora was attacked and the night the phone call came. Coop thought the man was telling the truth. Still, it wouldn't hurt to check every angle. Turner could probably afford the pearls that had been sent to Aurora. Yet his profile didn't call for women.

  The gown on the drafting board intrigued him. The office had been purely masculine, almost sterile, then that gown. If he had a gown, maybe he'd have pearls, too.

  And maybe he'd be up on the use of makeup.

  ***

  Not a single light shone in Aurora's house when Duncan got there. The fear that gripped him earlier took up permanent residence in his body. His heart raced, his hands were cold and clammy, and he felt the need to shout her name. His internal radar told him something was wrong. Where were the guards he'd posted? Where were the police cars that regularly patrolled the area?

  Duncan parked across from the house and got out of the car. He saw nothing. Crossing carefully, he went up the drive. Old news reports of snipers snapped into his mind. The darkness of the place was disconcerting. If Aurora had come here, wouldn't she have turned on a light? The guards would have called the studio. Where were they? Why were they nowhere to be seen?

  Duncan peered through the front window. He saw nothing. He should have called Coop, but his phone was back in the car now. Going around the house he found nothing out of place. Then he saw the car in the garage. She had to be here.

  Forgetting his fear, Duncan rushed to the door, rang the bell, and pounded on the heavy wood. He squinted through the glass ovals trying to see inside, hoping to see Aurora coming toward him, but nothing happened. No one came. Duncan called her name. His voice got louder and louder, more frantic, almost insistent. She had to be here.

  "She's not there."

  He turned. Standing at the edge of the property was Aurora's neighbor. Duncan remembered her. She probably didn't remember him. She stood far enough away to make a run for it if he were a criminal. Her name? he asked himself. What is her name? Megan.

  "Megan, has she been here?" He remained where he was, not wanting to frighten her. "It's Duncan West from The Marsha Chambers Show."

  She searched his face in the dark. Then he saw recognition change her body language. She smiled. "I remember you."

  "Aurora's car is here. Did you see her?"

  She shook her head. "I haven't seen her for weeks, since she went to do the show."

  "She left tonight. She was angry." Duncan went toward the woman. "I want to talk to her." His voice was low, persuasive. If Aurora was at Megan's he wanted to convince her to let him talk to her. "I just want to make sure she's all right."

  "I haven't seen her. She's not at my house." Megan glanced over her shoulder, then back at Duncan. She'd picked up a signal that he thought Aurora might be hiding.

  "Did you see anyone else about the house? There should be some guards."

  "I thought it was strange that they weren't there today when I got home from work. I thought they had been called away. They've been there a couple of weeks and nothing has ever happened."

  "They were sent by the studio, and we didn't release them."

  "Do you think something happened to them?"

  Duncan didn't want his mind to go there. He didn't want to know that anything could have happened to the guards. Unfortunately he couldn't stop the thought.

  "I have a key," Megan said. "Maybe we should look inside."

  Duncan could have hugged her. "Would you get it?"

  She nodded and turned to leave. He stopped her. "Megan. Call the police."

  ***

  Aurora resisted but the stranger pushed her into the dark little shack in the middle of nowhere. He'd taped her mouth, hands, and legs and hauled her into the van. Everything hurt now. The drive to wherever they were took at least half an hour. She'd lain in an unnatural position and her back, neck, legs, and arms ached.

  Sitting her in a chair, he re-wrapped her legs with duct tape. She tried to talk. Her voice was muffled. He ripped it off her mouth.

  "Who are you? What do you want?" Aurora asked as soon as she could talk. She didn't want the terror to be in her voice, but it was there. She didn't care that her mouth was swollen, that the tape left a burning sensation on her face.

  "Simple. I want Duncan West."

  "Then why did you take me?" As soon as she said the words, she felt guilty. She wouldn't want Duncan to be kidnapped. She loved him.

  "It's nothing personal."

  "What!"

  "I mean, I'm sorry. You're just a diversion."

  "What are you going to do to me?"

  "I told you on the phone."

  Aurora's heart slammed into her chest. Sweat popped out on her brow. The phone call came back with vivid clarity.

  "Why? We don't even know each other."

  "Like I said, it's nothing personal. Just payback. Duncan West is going to lose his star, and I'm going to ruin him like he ruined me."

  His star. He thought she was Marsha.

  "How did you get into my house?"

  "This isn't Twenty Questions."

  She ignored his statement. “Did you happen to look at my mailbox, see any of my mail."

  "I'm not a fool!" he shouted. "You can tell the world you're Rory, even have mail sent to yourself in that name, but I know better. You're Marsha Chambers, the bread and butter of the show. Duncan is deep into this production and I'm going to take him out.” He pronounced each of the last three words as if they were single sentences.

  "Why? What did he do to you?" Aurora had to keep him talking. It was the first rule of self-defense. Keep the person talking and perhaps you can keep them from killing you, or you can delay them long enough for help to come. There would be no help tonight. No one knew where she was. The guards saw her leave. They probably thought she was Marsha. No one had seen her go into her garage. Even if they found her car there, she'd left no clue that she'd been in the house. Duncan and Coop would have no place to look.

  She'd been alone with people who wanted to kill her before. Then she'd had backup, but barely got away with her skin. She'd been in a city where she could scream and people would hear her. Out here she was alone.

>   Chapter16

  Coop's fingers flew across the keys of the computer on his desk. He'd searched for everything he could find on Freddie Turner, Kevin Baldwin, and Melvin Master. He'd gone through police records, airline information, even high school and college transcripts, and come up against the two drawbacks the machine had. It couldn't get through a brick wall, and it couldn't answer questions that weren't asked.

  Turner's financial records were without reproach. He'd had trouble with the IRS once, gone to court, and won. That alone reinforced Coop's assessment of the man. He was driven to succeed, worked at it, excelled, and fought for his rights. Did he think that Duncan had done him wrong, and was he determined to make him pay for it? It didn't appear so. The officer in New York, Kelly, verified Turner's whereabouts on the nights in question. He couldn't be in two places at one time. But he could mastermind a kidnapping if he chose.

  Baldwin had a prison record. Duncan testified against him for slipping subliminal messages into the film. He'd gotten a light sentence because he'd only focused on personal greed by suggesting that people view his next film. He hadn't perpetrated any mind control games.

  Coop had placed a call to the prison and spoken to the warden. Often there was information not contained in the files. He learned Baldwin was suspected in the death of another inmate, but no one could prove it. According to the prison report Baldwin had been a model prisoner, being released early for good behavior. But then practically everyone who went to the "Country Club," a white-collar crime facility, had lived in luxury and was furloughed early. Most returned to their former professions, as did Baldwin. He was back to making movies. Apparently, he had a huge project in the works. It was expected to do well and there were rumors in all the trade publications that it would be the blockbuster of the summer. Baldwin needed it to flourish. What money he had was tied up in his production and he was heavily in debt. If he had a pearl necklace at his disposal, Coop was sure he'd have used it to finance his work. Baldwin was also in California. On the surface, that precluded him. Coop had someone checking airline flights just the same.

  Lastly, Melvin Master, the sound engineer. Reports of him were shrouded in shady and underhanded deals. The Los Angeles Police Department knew he was bootlegging DVD’s and music videos, but they hadn't been able to catch him at it. He blamed Duncan for firing him and had vowed to get even. Although he wasn't living hand-to-mouth he certainly couldn't afford the cost of the necklace Aurora had received. He was also three time zones away from any personal contact on this coast.

  Coop was up against a wall. None of these people appeared to be involved. They also had Duncan as their focal point, not Marsha and not Aurora. What would the connection be? Revenge against one by using the other? It wasn't out of the question. It had been done before. One of them might want to ruin Duncan by destroying his livelihood, giving him a taste of his own medicine, so to speak. He could even go so far as to frame Duncan for a crime he commits. Coop didn't want to think of that. It meant he could hurt Marsha or Aurora for no reason.

  And that would piss him off. The worse kind of crime, in Coop’s opinion, was one perpetrated again an innocent; the man or woman who killed without remorse and with no reason. To achieve an expected end, he could just kill another human being. Coop pushed himself back from the machine. Maybe coffee would help clear his mind and give him energy to find another avenue to approach. He stood up.

  Marsha Chambers walked through the door. She stopped the moment her eyes locked on his. All the haughtiness she usually showed to the world was gone. This was a different Marsha Chambers. This one was the woman bending over that child in the hospital; the one standing in the shadows as the child's mother made an appeal for her lost daughter to return home. Coop's heart reached for her. He wanted to cradle her in his arms and absorbed her hurt, take it away and leave her with only happiness and joy.

  "I need to talk to you." Her voice was small and her eyes looked sad and confused.

  He came around the desk. He was going to go to her, touch her, but that would give him the opportunity to crush her against him and he didn't think he could stop himself if he got that close. He couldn't do it. He was still a cop, and he'd always be. Marsha Chambers had a secret that affected this case. He needed her to tell him what it was and he needed his mind sharp when she did. If he touched her he couldn't account for his actions.

  Coop stopped when he reached the chair in front of his desk. Crooks and robbers had sat there. He held it out for Marsha. "Sit down."

  Marsha took a seat. “I am being blackmailed," she said.

  Coop closed the office door and resumed his own chair. "Is this an official visit?"

  Marsha hesitated. "I don't know."

  "Do you want to make a report? Swear out a warrant against the blackmailer?" He sounded like an unfeeling cop, there only to fill out forms and pass along reports which would be filed and forgotten.

  "I only want to tell you about it.” She paused. "I know it won't be long before the news people find out. I need you to know first."

  Coop swallowed the lump in his throat. She'd said she needed him. She trusted him. "Go on."

  "Aurora Alexander is missing."

  Coop leaned forward. "When?"

  "She left the studio last night after the recording was done. No one has seen her since. Duncan is in a panic. It's all my fault." She broke down in tears. Coop kept himself from jumping out of his chair and going to her. He grabbed a box of tissues from the credenza and set them on the end of the desk. He waited until the tears subsided and his voice could be trusted.

  "Tell me what happened." He had no reports of a kidnapping. Duncan hadn't called. There were no messages on his machine, just a couple of hang ups.

  "I don't know what happened.'' She got up and paced the room. "One moment I was watching that show on the missing child and the next I was sailing through the gates and demanding that she leave my show." She turned back to him then. Her gaze was steady but troubled. "She was so calm, so under control. I felt like an idiot, and the more she agreed with me the worse I felt and the louder I screamed. Finally, she grabbed her belongings and left. I didn't know anything would happen to her, Coop. I swear I didn't.” She pleaded for him to believe her.

  He did. He knew how deeply she could be touched. The scene of her standing in the darkened studio came back to him. He'd held her in his arms, made love to her. He knew she could feel deeply. She hid that as if it would make her weak in the eyes of the world. The truth was, it would make her seem more human.

  "You've got to believe me!" she shouted at him.

  "I do," he told her. "Tell me about the blackmailer."

  She didn't sit down but walked to the window and looked out. “I was in college. We did some pretty crazy things being away from home, no parents, no rules."

  "All college students do that."

  "I know." She sighed. Then she turned and faced him.

  Coop glanced at the files he’d been studying. He didn't want her to see how much control she actually had over him.

  "It was my senior year. Graduation was only a couple of weeks away. Exams were over and we were celebrating. We'd go out every night and party. One good time after another." Her eyes rolled to the ceiling and her tone told him the opposite of her words. "The last foster family I was with gave me an old car when they bought a new one. It was a graduation present. I got it the day after grades were posted. They thought it would be good to get used to it since I'd be driving it a long distance."

  Coop glanced toward the door as someone stopped outside. Through the glass partition he saw Duncan. Marsha saw him and reacted.

  "I'll get rid of him." Coop started for the door.

  "No," she said taking a step toward him. "He should know this, too."

  Coop opened the door. Duncan stepped inside and closed it. He looked like a man in need of sleep—red eyes, tired expression, rumpled clothes. Seeing Marsha he stopped, his face tightened. The tension in the room increased to slicing
thickness.

  "Marsha told me Aurora's missing."

  His friend nodded. "I haven't been able to find a trace of her."

  "Duncan, I'm sorry," Marsha apologized. She took a step. His expression backed her up. "I didn't mean for anything to happen to her."

  "You never mean it, do you, Marsha? You walk over people as if they're ants, and never think of consequences."

  "Duncan," Coop said with warning in his voice.

  "I'm sorry," Marsha said. Her eyes were full of tears. "I didn't mean it.”

  "You don't know anything's happened to her." Coop spoke.

  "No, I don't."

  "Sit down, Duncan. You too, Marsha."

  After a moment Duncan removed his coat and slung it over a chair, then took a seat in front of Coop's desk. Marsha took the other one and Coop resumed his own seat.

  "Marsha has something she wants to tell us."

  Marsha swallowed and hazarded a glance toward Duncan. "I was telling Coop about the blackmailer."

  Duncan's head came round to look at her.

  "I've been being blackmailed for three years, since the show became a success."

  "Why didn't you say something?"

  "I didn't want anyone to know that I'd murdered someone."

  ***

  Aurora didn't think her shoulders would ever be the same. With her hands behind her she'd spent an uncomfortable night on the smelly cot. She was hungry and in pain, and her legs were numb.

  "What's your name?" she asked, sitting up.

  "Trying to get familiar with me? It won't work."

  "Where is this place?"

  "Timbuktu," he snapped.

  "You haven't told me why you want to hurt Duncan."

  "You ask a lot of questions." He grunted. "I suppose it comes from that show. You're always asking questions."