Lust, Money & Murder (9 page)

Elaine wished she could travel back in time to the day she confronted Ronald Eskew in his office. If only she had thought to pick up something with his fingerprints on it. Of course, at that moment, she could not have known what was about to happen to her, and to her father.

She began doing detailed searches of all the modeling agencies that had been started in the year following the closure—or disappearance— of Rising Star. There were over 50 agencies that had started during that time in the USA. One by one, she began painstakingly investigating them.

* * *

One day when Elaine and Bill were working together in his office, going over the details of a new bank check fraud case, Bill suddenly grabbed her and kissed her.

“Stop it,” she said, struggling against him. He pushed her back on his desk and hungrily pressed his mouth against hers. She could feel his erection pressing against her thigh. Before she knew it, his hand went under her skirt, his fingers rubbing her vulva.

“Bill!” she gasped, roughly pushing him away.

He backed off, breathing hard.

“This is not
acceptable
. Do you understand?”

He blinked, wiping his mouth. “I understand.”

“You do?”

“Yes. You may go back to your office.”

* * *

When Elaine went home that day, she had a bad feeling about what had taken place. She didn’t sleep at all that night. The next morning, she went to a downtown cafe and had breakfast, dreading the thought of confronting him again. Things would be awkward, at best.

When she got to the office, he was already there. She passed his door.

“Good morning, Elaine,” he said evenly.

“Good morning,” she said, backtracking.

He was sitting at his desk, his arms crossed.

With a warm smile on his face, he said, “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Excuse me?”

His face was red, but not with embarrassment. “Do you think the law enforcement computers are here for your personal amusement?”

He tapped on a printout on his desk. “Would you mind telling me who Ronald Eskew is?”

“Bill...I asked you if it was all right for me to work on my own cases, and you said it was.”

“Did I?”

“Yes. The first day I was here. You said...” Now she noticed another look in his eye.

“Abuse of law enforcement databases is a serious violation of your security clearance. I could fire you for that.”

Elaine swallowed. So this is how Bill Saunders dealt with his bruised male ego. She remembered Luna’s words.
You’ll end up working for at least one first-class asshole, maybe more.

“Bill,” she said, willing herself to stay calm, “please don’t fire me. I won’t use the databases anymore.” She decided it was better to put herself at his mercy than to confront him about the real reason he was doing this.

He gazed at her for a moment with obvious resentment. “Well, you’ve been doing a halfway decent job here. What I’m going to do is recommend a transfer.”

Elaine was taken aback. “A transfer? To where?”

“You’ll find out soon enough. I’ll put in the request this morning.” He picked up his pen and cut his gaze from her. “That will be all.”

* * *

Elaine was furious, in a quandary about what to do. She was tempted to fly to Washington and file a formal sexual harassment complaint, but she thought the better of it—doing that so early in her career would probably just get her known as a troublemaker. Nobody would want her then. Besides, she had no proof of anything, including Bill’s permission to use the confidential databases. It would come down to her word against his.

She tried to tell herself that a transfer was a good thing. Just about anywhere was better than Great Falls, Montana.

CHAPTER 1.10

“
Bulgaria
?” Elaine said, staring at the confidential transmission in her hand.

Bill smiled.

“You bastard,” she said under her breath.

His expression darkened. “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that.”

Elaine just stood there, glaring.

“I had nothing to do with where they chose to transfer you,” Bill said. “I simply told them that I thought your talents were being wasted here—” he looked distastefully down at her legs “—and I think they are. Maybe in Bulgaria you’ll find a situation that’s more
acceptable
to you.”

He turned back to the papers on his desk. “You’ll leave tomorrow. Summarize everything you’re working on and have it on my desk by five o’clock today.”

* * *

That evening, Elaine stayed late, packing up her personal things in the office, putting them in boxes. Bill would go over it all with a fine-tooth comb and send it on to Bulgaria.

She felt as bitter as the weather outside.

Just as she was about to leave, she sat back down at her stark desk. She looked at the dark computer screen, hesitated, then turned it on and logged into the system.
The damage has been done
, she thought.

She opened up the criminal databases and continued her work on the Ronald Eskew case.

After only an hour, she stumbled on something exciting.

There was a modeling agency that was started in Dayton, Ohio only two months after Rising Star disappeared. It was only open eight months, then closed. According to city records, the owner had been R. E. Crawford.

Crawford—that was the name his assistant had used.

What about Robert E. Crawford?

Elaine typed the name into the FBI criminal database, waiting on pins and needles.

After a moment, it came back with a match.

Ronald E. Crawford, a.k.a. Robert A. Eskew, a.k.a. Steven B. Hayes, a.k.a, Edward T. Cane, a.k.a... The list went on.

She opened up the rest of the file.

Her heart gave a thump as the man’s mug shots appeared, front and side views, holding a number.

It was him! He still had the droopy mustache, and a beard as well.

She skimmed through the file, her heart beating faster and faster.
Wanted for direct mail fraud, computer phishing, passing bad checks, currency counterfeiting...
a dozen white-collar crimes.

Elaine frowned, confused, scrolling back and forth through the long file. Where was he now? He’d obviously been arrested, because there were mug shots.

Ah, there it was. Five years ago...

Convicted on three counts of direct mail fraud, Decatur, Illinois.
He was sentenced to two years in an Illinois minimum security prison.

And then what?

The file seemed to end there.

Then she noticed the last line.

September, 17th, 2006. Deceased
.

Deceased?
she thought numbly. The man is
dead
?

That couldn’t be...

With a growing sense of disappointment, she clicked on some more buttons. She finally found the death certificate.

Cause of death: heart failure. It is the opinion of the examining physician that the deceased passed away peacefully in his sleep.

* * *

Elaine left Montana in a daze.

As she gazed out the airplane window, watching Great Falls sink away, it felt as if the rug of life had been yanked out from under her.

...passed away peacefully in his sleep.

It wasn’t possible! The loathsome man who was responsible for her father’s death, had
passed away peacefully in his sleep
.

The bastard! The lucky, despicable bastard!

Only during the last few hours did Elaine fully realize that everything she had done since her father committed suicide—every major decision she had made, and every action as a result of those decisions—was driven by her desire to get even with Ronald Eskew.

And now the man was dead!

It just wasn’t fair. The greatest irony was that he had died long before she had even finished college.

Elaine felt every emotion imaginable, and she felt nothing. She had turned down two perfectly good jobs, had gone through that hellish process to join the Secret Service—and for what?

She was the captain of a rudderless ship.

* * *

When the plane landed in Chicago, instead of changing planes for the flight to Washington, D.C., she bought a ticket to Pittsburgh. She had not been home since she’d graduated from Bromley. Something told her it was time she came to terms with her past.

She rented a car at the Pittsburgh Airport and found herself driving to her old house in Garfield. A thousand memories flooded her mind as she drove down Penn Avenue, passing familiar landmarks— the little market where she used to shop, the laundry, bus stop where she had walked a thousand times back and forth to her house.

As she slowly rolled by the tiny, humble dwelling itself, it looked even tinier and humbler than she had ever remembered it, and the neighborhood much more run-down. She could see the balcony her father had built onto the back, the paint peeling. She could see herself as a little girl, held in her father’s arms.

Your great-great-great-great grandmother was an Irish Princess. She lived in a beautiful castle. It had a moat, and a –

What’s a moap, Daddy?

She felt a sharp pang in her heart and sped away.

A few minutes later, she pulled up to the Bromley Academy for Girls. She went inside to the main office. Ms. Prentice had long retired and had been replaced by a new, young director. There was a security guard on duty at the front desk, also a new touch. Even he was a stranger.

“Can I help you?” he said.

“I’m a Bromley grad,” Elaine said. “I’m just going to walk around the grounds, if it’s ok...”

“Knock yourself out.”

Elaine went back to the rental car and, from the trunk, retrieved a small pot of chrysanthemums. She trudged through the snow around to the back of the main building, past the soccer field, across the hill, until she reached the remains of the church. Ms. Prentice had arranged for her father’s body to be buried there, in the old graveyard. The school had paid for everything.

Elaine squatted in front of the simple headstone and brushed away the snow.

IN MEMORY OF PATRICK KEEGAN BROGAN, A WONDERFUL FATHER AND GREAT FRIEND OF THE BROMLEY ACADEMY FOR GIRLS

Elaine stared at the words cut into the slab, tears coursing down her face. She placed the pot at the foot of the marker. Suddenly she fell forward, weeping, overwhelmed by a feeling of loneliness and despair.

“I wish I could talk to you Daddy,” she gasped, pressing her hands and face against the cold marble. “I don’t know what to do.”

She wept for a few minutes, and then became aware of a crunching sound behind her in the snow. She turned around. Two girls about 12 years old on horseback, in their riding helmets, were moving along the side of the graveyard.

Elaine wiped her eyes and waved. The girls waved back.

She thought of Kaitlin, and how they had grown apart.

When Elaine went back to the car, her grief faded into a sweet sorrow. She would cope, somehow. She was a Brogan
. We’re made of the tough Irish stock
, she could hear her father saying. She would go to goddam Bulgaria and see what happened.

If things didn’t improve, she would quit the Secret Service.

CHAPTER 1.11

Sofia, Bulgaria turned out to be a pleasant surprise. The city had a distinctly European flavor, with balconied buildings overlooking tree-lined, cobblestone boulevards that rattled with slow-moving trams. The summer air was filled with the smell of flowers and the sounds of laughter and romantic accordion music. There was simplicity to the Bulgarian people and the way they lived, that Elaine found charming and down-to-earth.

In the center of the city, the men and women were better dressed than in the States, the men in suits and the women in stylish skirts or dresses, most wearing high heels. When they walked in couples, the woman would often take the man’s arm the old fashioned way.

The males, with their dark eyes and swarthy looks, were handsome enough, but their attitude towards females left much to be desired. In some parts of the country, girls as young as 14 were still auctioned off at fairs to the highest bidder.

Still, Sofia was a thrilling place for Elaine to find herself. A helluva lot more interesting than Great Falls, Montana.

The day she arrived, she was met at the airport by a Bulgarian driver from the office and formally escorted to an apartment in the center. The flat had been rented for her on a weekly basis until she could find permanent accommodations. It was lovely, with antique furniture and ten-foot ceilings, and overlooked a quiet, tree-shaded square.