by Deborah Camp
“I found him,” Kenya sang out, still grinning. She was followed by a short, bald man with a big, black mustache. “This is Stan Meyers. Stan, this is him! Levi Wolfe!” She extended her hands, palms up, proudly presenting Levi to his audience of one.
Levi shook the man’s hand. “Nice to meet you. So, you were here on Saturday?”
“Pleasure,” Stan said. “Yeah, I worked on Saturday.”
“Hi,” Trudy said, getting Stan’s attention. “I’m Trudy Tucker. Levi and I are working together.”
Stan shook her hand and smiled. “What can I do for you, ma’am?”
“Did you notice any man who seemed to be watching women more than he was actually looking at the art exhibits?”
He rubbed his chin in a thoughtful gesture. “Can’t say that I did.”
“He would have been in here,” she said, turning to point at the long bench set before the wall that displayed the Madonna and Child artwork. “Sitting there. We think he’s in his late twenties or early thirties.”
“No . . . I didn’t notice anyone peculiar.” He shrugged. “It was busy that day. Lots of people. Sorry.”
Trudy gave a little shrug. “If you think of—.”
“I was telling Kenya, though, that I did see that woman on the news.”
“What woman?” Trudy and Levi asked in unison.
“The picture of that woman the police say might have some knowledge about the killer. I think her name is Zelda?”
Trudy looked at Levi and saw her own excitement mirrored in his eyes. “She was here? On Saturday?”
“Yes, ma’am. I called the police and told them about it.”
“You told the police,” Levi repeated. “When and who did you talk to?”
“I called them on Monday and some gal took down my name and number and said they’d get back to me. Nobody’s called yet.”
Trudy shared a frown with Levi. “You’re sure it was Zelda?”
“Looked just like her.”
“Was she alone?”
“I think so. I saw her several times and I never saw her with anyone. She smiled at me. She was real friendly.”
“How tall was she?”
“Oh, about my height. I’m almost six feet tall, but she had high heels on.”
“Shapely?” Levi asked.
Stan grinned. “Yes, sir, she had a nice figure. Sort of like Joan Crawford. You remember her?”
“Who’s that?” Kenya asked with a frown, earning chuckles from Levi and Stan.
“So, would you say she was stately? Good posture?” Trudy asked, trying to recall the late, great actress’s figure.
“Yes, that’s right.” Stan nodded. “And she was all made up. Penciled eyebrows, fake lashes, red lipstick. Real dolled up.” He leaned sideways toward Trudy and said in sotto voce, “Not a natural beauty, like you, ma’am.”
Trudy felt color wash up into her face and Levi’s warm gaze on her. “Well, thank you, and thanks for that information, too.”
“Can I get my picture now?” Kenya asked.
“Certainly.” Trudy held out her hand for Kenya’s cell phone. “I’ll do it.”
“Let’s go to the entrance. We can’t take photos in the gallery.” Kenya led the way.
In the sun-splashed entry, Trudy waited for Levi to step closer to Kenya and place his arm around the guard’s shoulders. Kenya grinned and looked up into his face. Trudy snapped two photos. “Got it.” She turned to Stan. “Would you like a photo with Levi, too?”
Stan shrugged. “Sure. Why not?” He wrestled his phone out of his trouser pocket and held it out to her.
“Tell you what . . .” Levi took the phone from him and gave it to Kenya. “Why don’t you take the picture for us, Kenya?” He grasped Trudy’s hand. “You want Trudy in the picture, don’t you, Stan?”
“Absolutely!”
Trudy gave Levi a quick grin, touched by his smooth directions to include her. Stan motioned for Levi to get on one side of him and Trudy on the other. They took their places and Kenya snapped the shutter.
After thanking the guards again, Trudy and Levi made their way out of the museum. Levi paused on the steps and slipped on his sunglasses.
“I’ll leave it to you to contact Sinclair to see why no one has followed up on this Zelda spotting,” he said, glancing at his Rolex. “We need to get back to Stirring Palms. I have to pack and zip to the airport to catch my flight.”
“No problem. Do you think Zelda was here with the psycho?”
He sighed. “It’s hard to say. Maybe he’s following Zelda. Maybe he was here with her and the guard just didn’t notice. Maybe it’s all a huge, fucking coincidence.”
“I’ll enter all of this into the case file,” she said, “along with what Tom says.”
He nodded, cupping her elbow in his palm and moving down the steps with her to where they’d parked the Nissan. “By the way, Trudy . . .” He stopped, turning her around and nudging her chin up with his knuckle until she was staring at her face reflected in his sunglasses. “I see you now, too.” His kiss was light and gentle. “And the more I see of you, the more I like you.”
###
“Would you care for another Scotch and soda, Mr. Wolfe?” the pretty flight attendant asked, leaning across the empty seat beside Levi.
He turned away from the window and his moody contemplation of clouds. “No. Two is my limit.”
“May I get you anything else? Candy? Cashews? An extra pillow?”
“No, thanks.”
She smiled and her eyes were a warm shade of brown. “Very good, Mr. Wolfe. Are you flying to Los Angeles on business this evening?”
“Yes.”
“I hope it goes well.”
“Thank you.”
“I think what you do is simply fascinating.” Her eyes widened. “I saw you on the Sissy Franklin show last night.”
He nodded and turned his face away from her to stare out the window again. She took the hint and left him alone. Any other time he would be glad to chat with an attractive flight attendant as he whiled away the hours in first-class, but not now. He closed his eyes, feigning sleep, and let go of a long sigh. God, he was tired! Tired, wrung-out, spent. Trudy Tucker was exhausting.
His thoughts shuffled back to last night when he’d been frantic, racing back to the RV park, his heart lodged in his throat, images of Trudy facing the serial killer because the psycho had found a way to locate the woman who could ensnare his mind, share his demented thoughts and plans. Quintara had said that was highly unlikely, but who could say for certain? It could happen, and that was all he could think about as he had sped back to her, desperate for the phone to ring and it would be her and she would say she was safe.
Sometime between midnight and dawn, when he was sure Trudy had finally gone to sleep in her RV, he had phoned Quintara. She had answered on the first ring.
“This is Quintara.”
“You weren’t sleeping.”
“No. I’m working on a magazine article. Why aren’t you sleeping?”
“It’s been a shitty night.”
“Oh. What happened, Levi?”
And he’d told her about the cold fear that had gripped him and how he had been so furious with Trudy – so irrationally enraged that he had wondered what was going on with him and how Trudy could tear him up inside like that.
“You care for her. More than you want to and more than you probably are ready to admit. You can be overpowering, you know.”
“She’s the one with the power. I don’t even know myself when I’m around her. It’s nuts!”
She’d chuckled, and the sound had been warm in his ear. It had made him smile and had relaxed the tensed muscles in his neck and shoulders.
“Take a deep breath, Levi. Clear your mind. Better?”
He’d tried, but the strange feelings kept circling his heart, looking for a chink in the armor. “Did you see Sissy’s show last night?”
“Of course. You know that I love to watch you. I’
m your most devoted follower.”
“Some calls came in afterward. I’ll talk to Detective Sinclair later to see if anything came of the tips.”
“There’s something else. You’re jealous of the detective?”
“He sure moved in on Trudy fast.”
“Hmmm. What’s good for the gander . . .”
“What’s that mean?”
“How long did you know Sissy Franklin before you had her? An hour. Two?”
“You’re listening to gossip again.”
“I don’t have to listen to gossip. I know.” Laughter had threaded through her voice. “You’re not the only psychic on speaking terms with Sissy.”
That had gotten his attention. Quintara had been talking to Sissy? Shit.
“In her office lavatory?” Quintara had expounded. “Her sitting on the sink with the faucet biting into the small of her back? With your clothes on?”
“Christ, Quintara! I’m hanging up.”
That low, naughty laugh again – classic Quintara. “Oh, yes. She told me all about it.”
“You’re not helping.” He could handle Sissy. Trudy? Not so much.
“Oh, dear Levi. You’re cross because I can get under your skin. And so can Trudy. You’re used to calling all the shots with uncomplicated women. You give them one of your smoldering looks, tell them to drop their panties and spread their legs, and then you go to work on them. Then you quickly put them out of your mind. It’s not so simple with Trudy, is it?”
Levi opened his eyes slowly to stare at the dark sky outside the plane. He recalled how quiet Quintara had been when he’d told her about Trudy asking if he’d be a faithful lover. They both knew that would be a tall order for him. No woman had ever asked that of him.
The overwhelming physical attraction he had for Trudy mystified him. He hadn’t experienced this level of hard-on producing need since way back in England with Lizzie. He’d been young, randy, and totally inexperienced then. It was natural for him to want to bed Lizzie every day, every night, and three or four times every Saturday and Sunday. To be so fixated on one woman now . . . God! He lusted for Trudy. Smoking-hot, cock-driving, mind-blowing lust. What really singed his soul was that he couldn’t stand the thought of any other man having her.
All he had to do was picture her soft, auburn hair, limpid, green eyes, and sweet, upturned mouth and he could drive nails with his dick. She was smart as a whip, winsome, a wise ass, and a touch wicked. And all of that turned him on in a big, big way.
He shifted in the seat, the heat pooling in his groin, making him lengthen and thicken. He gathered in a big gulp of air to clear his head. Goddamn, he had it bad for her! How the hell had this happened? It was so not his style. And why did it bother him so damn much that she couldn’t wait to leave him after they’d fucked?
“Do you need anything, Mr. Wolfe?”
He sat up straighter and blinked. The flight attendant was leaning toward him, a frown puckering her brow.
“I’m fine.” His ears popped. “Are we descending?”
“Yes. We’ll be landing in a few minutes.”
“Thank you.” He buckled his seat belt, feeling hot and bothered and fucking miserable.
Chapter Ten
Sitting on the RV park’s fishing pier the next morning, Trudy sipped coffee from a University of Tulsa Hurricane mug and held Mouse’s leash in the other hand. The Chihuahua sniffed the weathered planks and Trudy wondered what gross scents she must be picking up on – fish scales, fish guts, bird poop, blood, bait. Mouse was totally absorbed in the aroma bouquet.
Trudy faced the water again and sighed as melancholy drifted around and through her. She watched a pelican fly just above the water, its feet skimming the surface, and then landing not too far from her on the shore. She smiled, watching it, thinking how funny it looked on land and how graceful it was in the air.
Swinging her feet over the side of the pier, she admired the sun diamonds glinting across the choppy water. She looked at her phone to make sure it was on and the ringer volume was as loud as it would go. Why hadn’t Levi been in touch with her? Not a peep from him since he’d sent a text last night that he had landed safely and had given her his hotel room number.
Her eyes burned and she blinked, realizing she was still staring at her phone. Ring, damn you! What if something was wrong? Maybe he’d had a car accident and was in the hospital or . . . She mentally braked. God, was this what he had gone through when he’d been unable to reach her? Should she text him just to be sure he was okay? No, she was being silly. He was fine.
Earlier, she had plugged his name into the search engine and been dazzled by a wide array of photographs of him. Most of them pictured him at events, always accompanying a woman – many, many women. Mostly tall, blond, stacked women. Women who looked well-heeled, always in expensive clothes and wearing dazzling jewels at their throats, wrists, or earlobes. There were a few of him and Sissy Franklin and she was always looking at him with open adoration. Yep. She had carnal knowledge of him. No doubt about that, Trudy had thought, staring for too long at those photographs.
A few recent ones were of him and an Atlanta TV meteorologist named Nicola Bartlett. The weather girl he was linked with, Trudy surmised. Nicola was blond, extremely pretty, and stacked. She looked to be in her early twenties. In the photos, Levi usually had his arm around her waist. In one of them, he was bending near her ear, saying something to her that had made her smile and look up at him with shining eyes. He was wearing a tuxedo in one. Levi in a tux was orgasm worthy.
A couple of magazines had included him in their roundup of “Sexiest Bachelors” or “America’s Most Eligible Bachelors.” His bio info on Wikipedia was sketchy:
Leviticus David Wolfe, (birthday November 12), known professionally as Levi Wolfe, is an American television personality and professional psychic medium. He is best known for appearing on television shows such as “The Tonight Show,” “The Sissy Franklin Show,” “The Late Show,” and “Psychic Detectives.” Born in Carthage, Missouri, Wolfe says he realized he had special gifts when he was seven years old. He has written books about his psychic experiences, including bestsellers Soul Searching and A Curse and a Gift. He studied psychic and paranormal fields in England and has degrees in psychology from Georgia State University. He has studied parapsychology and lectured at the Rhine Research Center in Durham, N.C. He became well-known when he assisted the FBI in capturing serial killer Vernon “Bud” Schneider, who murdered more than a dozen women in New York and Maine.
When did he have time to earn those degrees? He must have a high IQ, she thought. He’s probably the classic 4.0 GPA overachiever.
And he knew he was psychic at seven years old . . . two years before he was in a “crisis mode” and Gregory had saved him. She tried to picture him as a dark-haired boy. Something terrible had happened to him and it must have been more than just realizing he was having visions. That was often upsetting, but he’d had inklings before then.
No mention of his parents or what his real name had been before he changed it to Wolfe. Did he have brothers and sisters or was he an only child? Another realization hit her. Hey, his birthday was in a few weeks! She recalled him saying something about not caring about his birthday or age. Wonder if he ever—.
“Are you fishing or daydreaming?”
She jumped and looked over her shoulder as her heart climbed into her throat. A man stood behind her, the sun at his back and obscuring his features from her. She lifted a hand to shade her eyes as she beat down the black wings of fear that rose up inside her. Then she recognized him.
“Jay.” She let out a shaky laugh. “You scared me for a second there.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, softly. “May I join you?”
“Sure. Have a seat.” She patted the planks next to her, then glared at Mouse. “Some watch dog! Not a peep from you.”
Jay laughed and reached out to pet the Chihuahua’s head. “What a cutie! What’s her name?”
“Mo
use.” Trudy leaned back on her locked arms. Jay was wearing another Hawaiian print shirt, snug blue jeans, and sandals. “Visiting Mike today?”
“Yeah. I’m owed about three weeks of vacation. I’ve covered the hurricanes and stockpiled a lot of vacation days the past couple of years. My boss says I have to use it or lose it, so I’m taking this week off.” He glanced around. “So you’re not fishing. You must have been daydreaming.”
“Yes. It’s been a crazy couple of days.”
“Still working on the serial murder case?”
“That’s right. Do you know Detective Sinclair?”
He nodded and gave her a smile that deepened the dimples in his cheeks. “My dad said that Sinclair has been here and picked you up. You two dating?”
She decided to skirt that issue. “Did Detective Sinclair show you the sketch of Zelda?”
Jay nodded. “Yeah, but after I saw it on the Sissy Franklin Show. I filed a story about it. Did they find her?”
“Not that I know of.” Trudy frowned. “I thought that the police would release that sketch immediately to the media.” Why hadn’t they? she wondered.
“Have you tried to reach Zelda . . . you know, with your mind?”
She shook her head. “That’s not how it works for me.”
“How does it work?”
She paused, not wanting to launch into a description of how the thoughts of strangers wove through her mind, unbidden.
He held up his hands. “If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s okay. I understand. Talking to a reporter is something that a lot of people are reluctant to do.”
She nodded, glad for the reprieve. “Your father is a character.”
He barked a laugh. “That, he is.”
“He had quite a career, didn’t he?”
Jay petted Mouse and didn’t answer for a few moments. “He was gone a lot while I was growing up. Work, work, work. He loved his work. Even when he was home, he was writing, reading, doing class plans. Now he realizes that he should have taken more time to be with his family.”
Trudy squirmed, feeling as if she were hearing something too personal. “So you two are making up for lost time now. That’s great.”