Taylor Made

by Alex Westmore

  Alexandria sighed heavily. “I didn’t want to put you in a more compromising position than I already have, but I don’t know where else to turn.”

  Delta sat across from Alexandria. “Go on.”

  “I was hoping you could tell me what to do with this.” Alexandria extracted a black videotape. “It arrived in the mail this morning.”

  Delta took the tape and turned it over in her hands. It looked like a regular VCR tape housed in a black sleeve. “I’m afraid to ask. What is it?”

  “Play it and see.”

  Delta rose and pushed the tape into the VCR sitting on top of the television. Then, she picked up the remote and sat next to Alexandria on the couch. The first image to appear on the screen was a campaign promo for Wainwright, apparently sponsored by the Citizens Against Repeat Offenders. After a little blurb flashed across the bottom of the screen, footage of Alexandria’s shooting played. Apparently taken by a home video camera, the footage came from behind the shooter, as if someone were taping Alexandria’s exit from the building. As the shots were fired, one of Alexandria’s secretaries pulled her to the ground, while photographers snapped pictures and the crowd started running. The tape zoomed in on Alexandria laying across the steps, while a female body shielded her. As the camera focused on the two women, a deep voice came over the tape.

  “If she can’t defend herself, how can she protect you and your loved ones?”

  Delta watched the tape end and then clicked it on rewind. When the VCR shut off, Delta plucked the tape from the VCR and handed it back to Alexandria.

  “I am so sorry.”

  Alexandria nodded. “Me, too. But I didn’t come here for sympathy, Del. The implication of this tape is clear. Either we find out in the next seventy-two hours who is behind this assassination campaign, or I’ll be ruined. If I let myself get blown away in the polls, it could ruin my career forever. The only way to save face would be to drop out saying I needed to regroup after the shooting.”

  Delta stared down at her hands, wishing they were around Wainwright’s neck.

  “Delta, if this tape airs, I won’t be able to get a job in River Valley as a dog catcher, let alone DA. I’d have to leave River Valley.”

  “Leave? To where? No, don’t even answer. I won’t hear it.”

  Alexandria reached out and took Delta’s hand. “Delta, it’s over.”

  Delta pulled her hand away and stood abruptly. “The hell it is. Before you toss in the towel, you give Connie and me a chance. If we come up empty-handed at the end of seventy-two hours, then you can pull out. You’ve got to give us a fighting chance.”

  “To do what, exactly?”

  “To catch the blackmailer. Whoever shot at you just made a big mistake. Blackmailers are easier to catch than murderers. This tape is just what we need.”

  “How so? It doesn’t implicate anybody.”

  Delta grinned slyly. “Maybe not to you, but to me it does.”

  “Yeah, well, don’t get your hopes up.”

  “You just hang in there, Counselor—the cavalry is on its way.”

  Alexandria smiled, and for the first time in days, Delta saw a ray of hope in her eyes. “You never give up, do you?”

  “Never.”

  Connie walked out of her house wearing a three-piece suit with a skirt. Delta did a double take. “Was it hanging with the mothballs, or did you buy it at Goodwill?”

  “Such a card. Enjoy my beautiful stubby legs while you can. Did you get the badge?”

  Reaching in her pocket, Delta withdrew a black leather wallet and flipped it open to reveal a badge imprinted with Federal Bureau of Investigation on it. Connie took the wallet and examined the badge. “We’re history with a capital H if I get caught impersonating a FBI agent.”

  “Then don’t get caught. Don’t worry, Con, he’ll be too paranoid to know whether or not the badge is bogus. You’ll be fine.”

  They climbed into the Delta’s truck, and Connie examined the badge before looking up and glaring at Delta. “Prudence? Excuse me, but I specifically asked you to give me—”

  “Who would you rather have been?”

  “Try Martina, Billy Jean, Jodie, Lily. Almost anyone but Prudence.”

  “Oh, right, like Lily is a better choice?”

  Connie harrumphed as she pulled the visor down and looked at herself in the mirror. “How about Bright Star or Running Bear?”

  Delta shook her head. “Or maybe Crazy One or Coco Loco. Man, Con, you go any deeper into this Native American phase of yours and you and Gina will soon be living in a teepee.”

  “We’d prefer a wigwam.”

  “See what I mean? Regardless of your name, you have to come out of there with something solid. Otherwise we’ll be calling Alex something other than DA.”

  “Did you and Sal leave the amethyst?”

  “10-4. It was a big, fat amethyst, too. Taylor won’t pass up a beauty like that.”

  “And you left Sal’s address?”

  “No, we left the address to the White House. Relax, will you?”

  “Relax? Delta, we’re breaking the law.”

  “Won’t be the first time.”

  Connie just shook her head.

  “You wired okay?” Delta asked.

  Connie nodded and lifted her skirt to show the taping device. “Wired and ready for action.”

  “Just don’t do what you did to me last time. Either you stay wired and on the air, or I’m coming in after you.”

  “History does repeat itself, doesn’t it?”

  Delta cut a glance at her. “Only this time, I won’t have to pull myself ten stories up a ladder.”

  Connie laughed. “I wished I could have seen it.”

  “You’re a sadist.”

  “What can I say?”

  They drove in silence for the remainder of the trip until Delta reached over and pointed to a large house set back from the road. “That’s his house.”

  Connie peered in the direction Delta was pointing. “House? You call that a house? That creep lives in a fucking mansion!”

  “Easy, tiger.”

  “Easy, shmeasy, Del. The guy is swimming in green. If money and power are what he’s about—”

  “Then he’s in good company with 2.5 billion other men.”

  Connie snorted. “Makes me sick.”

  Pulling up about six houses from Wainwright’s long, brick mansion, Delta turned the ignition off. “Don’t do anything stupid like last time, or I’ll come in there and kick your butt.”

  “Not even on your best day.”

  Delta grinned. “Honey, if I can’t beat a woman with a name like Prudence, then I don’t deserve this badge.”

  Allowing her grin to show, Connie patted Delta’s hand. “Good point. See you in the funnies.”

  “You mean, we aren’t there yet?”

  Connie smiled as she slammed the truck door. “Almost.”

  Delta adjusted the rearview mirror and watched as Connie walked toward a house that looked like it was straight out of Architectural Digest.

  “Okay, Storm, here we go.”

  Pushing her earplug further into her ear, Delta adjusted the volume. As much as she hated having to send Connie in, she couldn’t risk being recognized by Wainwright. Reclining the seat, Delta heard the tremendous gonging sound of the four-pipe doorbell.

  “Mrs. Wainwright?” Connie’s voice was clear and strong over the tap.

  “Yes?”

  “I’m sorry to bother you at this hour, but I’m Agent Rivers from the FBI, and I’d like to speak with your husband.”

  “Oh...my. Why...uh...sure. Yes, please...do come in.”

  Delta checked the tape recorder to make sure it was on. Then, she picked up a walkie-talkie and pressed the orange button. “She’s in, Sal. Are you two ready?” Delta released the button and waited.

  “That’s a big 10-4 good buddy. We’re ready.” Delta smiled at Sal’s enthusiasm.

  “I’m freezing my titties off up here,” Sal sa
id.

  Delta’s smile broadened. “Won’t be long, Sal.”

  “I hope not. A pigeon has found me attractive. I think he wants me to be his mate.”

  Delta chuckled as she set the radio next to the recorder. She hoped they had all their bases covered.

  “Mr. Wainwright, I’m Agent Rivers with the FBI, and I need just a moment of your time.”

  Delta heard Connie unvelcro her wallet.

  “The FBI? I’ve given all my information regarding the Pendleton shooting to the police. I have nothing more to add.” Wainwright’s voice was a baritone.

  “Would it be possible to speak privately, sir? In your study, perhaps?”

  “Why, yes...of course. How did you know I have a study?”

  “It’s our job to know these things, sir.”

  Delta grinned. Connie was very good. “I see. Of course. Follow me.”

  Delta picked her nails while she waited.

  “Terribly frightening to have villains out shooting at candidates, don’t you think?” Wainwright said.

  “Yes, the DA was fortunate. However...” Connie lowered her voice to a conspiratorial tone. “We at the Bureau believe the shooter intended to miss her. This is confidential, of course.”

  “Of course.”

  “Mr. Wainwright, let me be perfectly frank. My office has been investigating the attempt, and we are under the opinion that your people—”

  “Now wait just a minute, Ms.—”

  “Rivers. And that’s Agent Rivers.”

  “Well, Agent Rivers, my people have spent the last two weeks jumping through hoops for umpteen detectives and investigators. Any suspicions about this awful act being a grotesque campaign strategy have been dropped. I suggest you do the same.”

  “And I suggest you calm down, sir.”

  “Who’s in charge of this insipid investigation anyway?”

  “I am.”

  “Then I want the name of your superior. This is ridiculous. The FBI. Don’t you people have better things to do than harass taxpaying citizens? Well, I will not be harassed, Agent Rivers. Not by the police, not by the media, and not by the FBI. I know my rights.”

  Delta rubbed her hands together to keep warm.

  “In an attempted murder investigation, Counselor, the only ‘rights’ suspects have are those given to them. Do you understand?”

  “Suspects? Are you calling me a suspect? I’ll have your badge. No, better yet, I’ll have your job. Who is your supervisor? I demand to know who sent you and under what authority.”

  “Here’s my card, sir. Be my guest.”

  Delta leaned forward, hearing Wainwright punch the numbers on the phone.

  “Agent Duncan’s office,” came Sal’s tiny voice. How may I direct your call?”

  “I would like to speak with Agent Duncan, please. Tell him it’s Cole Wainwright from River Valley.”

  “Mr. Wainwright?” the radio sputtered as Sal’s voice tripped across the line. “I’ll see if he’s taking any calls.”

  The resulting silence was as fake as this ruse. A male voice, replacing Sal’s, broke the quiet. “Mr. Wainwright, this is Agent Duncan.”

  Delta could only imagine what they must have looked like atop the telephone pole; Sal in her black fatigues, and Josh with his woolly beard and huge body hanging on like a brown bear.

  “This is Cole Wainwright—”

  “Counselor, what can I do for you?” came Josh’s voice over the air.

  “I have one of your agents here in my home, telling me I am a suspect under investigation for the attempted shooting of DA Pendleton. Is this true?”

  “Yes, it is. Is there a problem?”

  “A problem?” Wainwright’s voice boomed. “A problem? This idiotic investigation has already been dropped for lack of evidence. Of course there’s a problem.”

  “I fail to see one, sir. You have a motive. We are investigating everyone with a motive. That’s all.”

  “Mr. Duncan, I am a very busy man in the middle of a very important election. My people and I have already been cleared of any implications in—”

  “Cleared, locally, sir, but federally is another matter. With all due respect, we don’t really care whether a local agency opens or closes an investigation. If we feel there is sufficient evidence to warrant a continued investigation, then we shall proceed with that investigation.”

  “I resent—”

  “I’m sure you do, sir, and I fully understand your resentment. But we believe someone in your organization, sir, not necessarily you, is connected with this crime. Agent Rivers needs your cooperation to help expedite the matter.”

  “I have been exceptionally cooperative.”

  “Again, we appreciate that, Mr. Wainwright, and we hope you continue to be as we conclude our investigation.”

  There was a slight hesitation before Wainwright spoke. “Does this mean you have a suspect?”

  “I am not at liberty to divulge that information, but I can assure you we are very close to making an arrest. I have another incoming call, Mr. Wainwright, so if you wouldn’t mind, I’d appreciate your cooperation for a little longer. Goodbye.”

  “Well?” came Connie’s voice.

  Wainwright’s sigh was so loud, Delta heard it over the wire. “So, what exactly is it that you want Agent Rivers?”

  “We believe the shooter is still in town, either awaiting payment, or preparing to blackmail the DA into checking out of the race early.”

  “That’s ridiculous.”

  “There is nothing ridiculous about attempted murder, Mr. Wainwright, and you, of all people, should know that.”

  “I didn’t mean—”

  “What we need for you to do is keep your people within the county lines until the end of the election. Can you do this without rousing suspicion?”

  “Of course.”

  “Are you aware that someone in your office is threatening to blackmail Pendleton?”

  “No, I am not. And if I were, I’d—”

  “Well, we are very aware, and whoever it is, sent her a tape of the shooting. Prints are going through the computer as we speak.”

  “A tape, you say? Someone from my office sent her a tape?”

  “Of the shooting, yes. Someone believes you can’t beat her fairly, so they’re trying to take her out unfairly.”

  “That’s preposterous! Pure speculation.”

  “Well, sir, what is speculation to you is fact to us. I would appreciate it if you could have your people fingerprinted. I’ll send a messenger by to pick the cards up in twenty-four hours.”

  Delta heard the click of Connie’s briefcase as she opened it to take the fingerprint cards out. “Please include yourself and members of your household staff.”

  Wainwright grunted. “I’m running for election, Agent Rivers. I’m not some Mafioso crime lord.”

  “Well, thank you for your time. I’ll see myself out.”

  With that, Delta heard the doors close and Connie’s heels clicking down the driveway.

  “He knows something,” Connie announced, sliding into the passenger seat. “His eyes were all over the place.”

  “Did you drop one?”

  Connie grinned. “Like a hot potato. Geez, he’s loaded. Everything was teak. Dark teak, light teak, teak paneling. Teak ain’t cheap.”

  “Nice house, huh?”

  “Incredible is more like it. But it’s his wife’s dough. Did you know her daddy is Vince Tognotti?”

  Delta turned. “Of Tognotti’s clothes?”

  “One and the same.”

  Delta whistled as they drove off. “Megabucks. Why would he need so many other backers?”

  Connie shook her head and sighed in mock frustration. “When will you ever learn the importance of doing your homework?”

  “Why should I? That’s what you’re here for.”

  “Humph. Okay, Pilgrim. Tognotti may have bucks, but he doesn’t spread it to his son-in-law. The house was a wedding gift to the daughter.” />
  Delta sat up. “Oh?”

  “Daddy wanted the son-in-law to inherit the business, but Wainwright snubbed him in favor of law and politics.”

  “Because he’s into power more than money.”

  “It looks that way. He could be living on Easy Street, but he wants the power of politics.”

  “What about the Mrs.? What’s your take on her?”

  “You know, I did a quick file on her, and she’s an interesting lady. She appears to stay very much in the background of his campaign, but she’s actually the one who gets all his financial endorsements.”

  “Because of the good old Tognotti name.”

  “Exactly.”

  “What’s in it for her? Daddy’s acceptance if Wainwright makes it big in politics?”

  Connie shrugged. “Who knows. But Tognotti doesn’t give the Wainwright campaign any financial support at all.”

  Delta cocked her head in question. “Why not?”

  “I think it’s because Wainwright has some supporters with very deep pockets that are connected to the mob. Tognotti washes his hands of anything mob related. He’s definitely a self-made man.”

  Delta said nothing as she pulled alongside a van parked beneath a lamppost. When she and Connie got out, Delta knocked three times on the van door, which slowly opened electronically. Inside the vehicle reminded Delta of the cockpit of an airplane. A TV, VCR, and brightly lit console with red, blue, green, and yellow lights dominated the space. There were headphones, microphones, reel-to-reel tapes, and hundreds of other gadgets only a spy could appreciate. Beeps, buzzes, hums, and clicks created an eerie electronic symphony that seemed to energize the pulsing lights.

  Sitting on a milk stool with a set of headphones on was Sal, still wearing her trademark fatigues and black Sox cap. Next to her sat a very large man sporting a bright red ZZ Top beard and wearing fatigues. Josh rose and gave Delta a big bear hug before setting her down and shaking Connie’s hand.

  “Good to see you again, Josh.”

  Josh nodded. “You’re better off than the last time I saw you.”

  Delta grinned. For all the violence and gore Josh must have seen during the war, he was a very quiet, somber man; gentle, unless threatened or unless those he cared about were in danger. He had slit a man’s throat to save Delta’s life in the desert.