Daddy's Little Killer (11 page)

No, something about their methodology
screamed that they had done enough breaking, entering and abduction
at the behest of a mastermind to know better than to leave clues
behind.  I stepped aside before Haverston could push me out of
the way.

"How long did you wait to call me after they
left?"

"Not even five minutes."

He depressed the call button on the
walkie-talkie on his shoulder and muttered police code into
it.  "Talk to the desk clerks, the doorman, anybody in the
hotel coffee shop and get back to me."

"May I ask what good it will do if you don't
know what these men look like?"

His eyes narrowed.  "Let me take a stab
at it.  Neither one is a prime example of physical fitness,
but one is so big, it looks like his fat head is sitting on top of
his shoulders instead of a neck."

My jaw dropped.

"The other, while he has a neck, has a
distinct odor of a man who neither bathes frequently or has much
concern for the amount of tobacco he smokes."

I hadn't noticed that part in D.C., but now
that Haverston mentioned it, there was an unusual bouquet in my
hotel room.  "How can you possibly know who these men
are?"

"When you mentioned private detectives
breaking in and stealing, they were the first two that popped into
my mind.  Your report wouldn't be the first one made against
them."

I shuddered.  "Who would hire
them?"

"You'd be surprised how much use for
unethical people there is in this city.  And before you ask,
Orion wouldn't have either one of them on staff at his
business."

"You're an Orion fan," I said
dully. 

"Personally, I think the guy's a prick, but
he's not a thief."

That didn't explain why Orion was following
me.  What was his interest in meeting me before I came to
Darkwater Bay?  Only George Hardy could answer that
question.  Or Rodney Martin.  "Go ahead and have them
process my room," I said after a moment of reflection and a snap
decision.

"Where are you going?"

I tugged one boot on and reached for the
other.  "It might be too early for me to pay a visit to George
Hardy, but it's not too early for me to wake Rodney Martin."

Haverston shuffled his feet and stared at
the floor.

"What?"

"You're going to Captain Martin's home?"

"I need answers that won't wait until police
admin drags its sorry ass into the office for the day."

"But …"  He censored himself.

"But what, Haverston?  What aren't you
telling me?"

He jerked his head toward the doorway and
left the room.  When we were in the relative privacy of the
hallway, Haverston continued.

"Dr. Eriksson, the last people on earth who
can give you answers are George Hardy, Donald Weber and Rodney
Martin.  The only guy who knows what's really going on at
Central Division is Jerry Lowe."

"The chief of detectives."

Haverston nodded.

"How many people knew George Hardy asked me
to come to Darkwater Bay, Charlie?"  I read his name off the
tag on his chest.  Officer Charlie Haverston.

"As far as I know, nobody."

"Meaning what exactly?"

He shrugged.

"This is no time to be reticent."  I
amended at his confused gaze.  "Don't hold back.  Do you
have a better explanation for how private detectives from Darkwater
Bay tried to forcefully remove me from my home in Washington? 
Somebody knew George called me.  They didn't want me coming
here."

"That seems to make sense."  Still,
reluctance radiated from every pore.

"What you say to me is absolutely
confidential.  It goes no further, Charlie.  I need to
know what I walked into here, all right?"

"I really shouldn't say anything,
doctor.  I mean, I don't have anything more than rumors and
innuendo."

"Which are what exactly?  Please. 
Perhaps I didn't express clearly enough what happened to me at the
hands of these private investigators in D.C.  I believe it was
their intention to abduct me.  They tried to remove me to an
unknown location.  This is serious, Charlie."

He nodded.  "I'm sure it's more serious
than either one of us knows."

"Tell me about these rumors."

Haverston cleared his throat and stared at
the floor.  "My personal opinion is that Chief Lowe is a
paranoid control freak."

"All right."

He stared up at me with hard eyes.  "He
wouldn't take news that Hardy and Weber were bringing in somebody
from the outside lying down, Dr. Eriksson."

"Meaning … ?"

Another head shake, this one conveying utter
disgust.  "Never mind."

"Are you implying that a high ranking
official in the Darkwater Bay police department would be inclined
to break the law to keep me out of Darkwater Bay?"

"Maybe not break it.  Bend it for
sure.  Chief Lowe has a rather fluid interpretation of the
law."

I saw that clearly.  "So perhaps the
intention wasn't to hurt me, but to scare me off."

The time line didn't jibe.  Hardy
called sometime while I was at Rick's funeral, between ten and
eleven eastern time.  That would've been between seven and
eight pacific time.  It was shortly after six when the two
goons from Darkwater Bay accosted me in the lobby of the
Ritz.  Not enough time to fly to D.C.  Unless …

"Charlie," I reached out and gripped his
hand.  "This is important.  You said you didn't think
George would've told anyone that he wanted to bring me to Darkwater
Bay to consult on a few cases."

"That's right."

"When I spoke to the commissioner, I got the
impression that he had a specific case in mind that he wanted my
insight on.  Of all you know about this city, do you have any
idea what case would bother him enough to ask for help from the
outside, one that perhaps is a sore spot with Chief Lowe?"

"It could be any number of them," he said
slowly.  "We haven't got a very good reputation around
here."

"Think carefully."

"It seems too ironic to me that you showed
up the same night as another dismemberment."

I agreed but kept my thoughts buried under a
concerned façade.  "Anything else?"

Haverston's eyes darted past me, took a
detour over his left shoulder only to return and settle on my
face.  "Only one that seems a little too obvious."

"Tell me."

His lips moved. 
Sound did not happen.  I read the message just the
same. 
Danny
Datello
. 

That made sense.  My head and heart
were in complete agreement that Uncle Sully might reach out to a
vast network of resources in his attempt to find out what I knew,
what I had done about it and how the feds were responding.  It
had to be part of the solution to the puzzling shadow that had
lurked its way into my world. 

Something still didn't add up.  How in
the world could Datello possibly know that I might end up in
Darkwater Bay?  There was no way he could've learned about
Rick's last confession, that he would suspect that he was next on
my list.

"Do you understand?" Haverston cut into my
thoughts softly.

I nodded.  "I think so."

"It might bear consideration, exactly what
the chief knew and who he might have shared that information with
before you got here, Dr. Eriksson."

My eyes snapped into focus. 
"Yes.  That's an interesting observation, Charlie.  Thank
you for sharing it with me."

Problem was, it was a twist I understood all
too well from my father's history.  Not all men in law
enforcement are incorruptible.  Question was, did Jerry Lowe
fall into that category or not?  If he was morally flexible,
he might be exactly the man I needed.

Chapter 10

The key to assessing any situation most
effectively is to keep everyone involved off guard.  When
people's expectations aren't met, they don't read subtle signals as
well.  In fact, they're so off kilter, it gives me a better
chance to see motives.  It's basic psychology.

With that in mind, I
refocused on what Rodney Martin probably remembered about me from
university.  I tend to favor the stereotypical look of the
environment.  It's part of what Wendell taught me about
blending into the environment. 
The
chameleon survives because he can fade into oblivion.  He can
see danger before it arrives, Sprout.  It makes him much more
difficult to catch.

Today, I needed to abandon that rule. 
My goal was to stick out like the proverbial sore thumb, to defy
every expectation Rodney might've shared with his superiors when I
walked into Central Division.

A cream suit with gold jewelry set the stage
for a socialite attending a brunch with her philanthropic planning
committee.  I looked less like a psychologist and more like an
heiress.  And there was certainly no trace of federal law
enforcement clinging to my aura when I climbed into the tiny hybrid
and engaged the GPS that would guide me to central Darkwater
Bay.

The last time Rodney saw me, I was gangly,
in a tweed jacket with hair in a tight bun and a pair of bookish
glasses perched on the end of my nose.

Today, I could've been a Hollywood starlet
on the way to a photo shoot or an awards luncheon.  I clutched
the tiny handbag under my arm and walked up the stone stairs to the
home of central's law enforcement nexus. 

Heads turned.  In part, it might've
been due to the oversized sunglasses I wore and left in place after
entering the building.  Darkwater Bay was just as foggy in the
morning as it had been when my flight landed at midnight. 

"Could you direct me to the administrative
offices?"  A desk officer stared up at me when I asked for
assistance.  I glanced at my Rolex.  "I have an
appointment with Commissioner Hardy this morning at eight."

"Uh.  Elevator," he stammered. 
"Eighth floor.  When you get off the elevator, George's
receptionist will meet you."

I turned to leave. 

"Excuse me," the voice called after
me.  "Are you Dr. Eriksson?"

A smile lit up the room, designed to disarm
and dazzle.  "Yes.  I wasn't aware that anyone knew I was
coming."

"It's all anyone has talked about since that
murder last night."

Ah yes.  Poor dead Gwen Foster. 
If Lowe had been ignorant of my arrival and not behind the PI's
following me, he certainly had heard I was here by now.

Rickety elevator doors jerked shut.  So
far, Central Division looked like it might be on the cusp of
becoming a condemned building.  Layers of grime had been
buffed away from the spacious lobby floor but had left deep
scratches in the tiles.  Once white stone was stained
yellow.  The wood railings and information desk were chipped,
the finish faded and worn.

A hand shot between the doors.  "Hold
the elevator!"

I pressed the "open" button on the wall
panel.  And almost gasped.

Perfectly pressed in dark blue Armani, a
statuesque man stepped into the small deathtrap box that would
deliver me to the eighth floor.  Dark hair highlighted his
olive skin.  His cheeks dented when he flashed a white,
perfectly straight smile.

"Thank you."

Blue gray eyes twinkled down at me. 
Another towering specimen in Darkwater Bay.  This one was much
less muscular than Johnny Orion, and possibly older too. 
Threads of gray streaked his temples.

"We're going to the same floor," another
flashy smile.  Disarming. 

I reinforced my goal, to be the one who
stunned others into showing their tells.  I returned it at 100
megawatts.  "I'm meeting some people this morning."

"Me too."  His hand thrust
forward.  "Jerry Lowe.  And you are?"

"Helen Eriksson.  Dr. Helen
Eriksson."

His eyes widened.  Mission
accomplished. 

"Special Agent Helen Eriksson?"

"I'm not what you expected, am I?"

"Frankly, no.  This is a pleasant
surprise, doctor."  But the twinkle vanished in an instant,
and the brilliant smile came off more than a little bit forced.

"The way I burst onto that crime scene last
night had to have left a very poor impression with your detectives,
Chief Lowe.  I apologize for that.  This consultation
could've been handled better."

Color suffused his neck above the crisp
collar.  "I hope that my detectives weren't entirely
rude."

Got to him again.  They had only been
partially rude.  "They were very gracious under the
circumstances.  I'm sure you realize that in my line of work,
I'm the last person that local authorities like to see at their
fresh crime scenes."

"I suppose so."

Lowe looked sufficiently discomfited by the
time the elevator doors opened.  I pushed the envelope a
little harder. 

"I would so appreciate a formal introduction
to the commissioner, Chief Lowe."  Super dazzler between the
lips, demure glance down, but not before I caught a glimpse of the
lines creasing Lowe's forehead.  "I've only spoken to
Commissioner Hardy on the telephone, so you see, you're really the
first person in authority that I've met in Darkwater Bay."

Let him choke on reality when Rodney saw
me.  He could interpret it as a bald faced lie, or disrespect
of Rodney's authority.  Either way, it kept him unbalanced
with me, and that's exactly what I wanted.

"Of course, doctor.  After you." 
His hand swept the open space in front of us, and I stepped into a
different universe.  At least as it related to the main lobby
of the police headquarters.

Plush carpeting swallowed my low
heels.  Cream and deep burgundy office furniture populated the
spacious reception area.  Hardy's girl sat behind a mahogany
desk reminiscent of a judge's bench.  Her telephone chimed
rather than rang.  She held up one perfectly sculpted nail at
Lowe and me and answered.