Up in Smoke (33 page)

Psycho killer!!!

He looked at her, trying to judge true or false. He didn't think she was lying, she was too scared. “You sure?”

She nodded.

“When?”

She pounded the bed with her fist.
Just now!!

“Who was it?”

If a furious scared fourteen-year-old could be said to look sheepish, then this one did.

“Well?”

She slid down in the bed.
Don't know.

“You don't know. But you're sure he was here.”

Yes!!!!

“How do you know he was here?”

She scrunched in on herself, making herself smaller and typed.
I don't know! Okay?

If she was playing games, it wasn't funny. “You know he was here, but you don't know why you know and you don't know who he was.”

She glared at him.

“Were you asleep when this whole circus started?”

She lifted her pointed little chin a slight bit and winced at the pain. Had she been dreaming? If that were the case, why wasn't she frightened right away? Why wait until the whole circus had been there for several minutes? Something had scared her silly. The wild eyes and gray skin weren't faked. What was the trigger?

“What scared you?” Demarco asked.

Already said. Don't know.

“When did you start feeling scared? I know it wasn't right away. The whole side show was in here for several minutes, before you felt frightened.”

Tears brimmed in her eyes and she, angrily, rubbed at them with her fingertips.
Don't know!!!!!

“Okay, take a breath, close your eyes. Relax. Think about when they first came in.”

Dumb blond called me Arlene.

“Right. You can hit her when you're stronger. The governor said something to you. What was it?”

Don't remember.

“Come on, now, tell me what he said.”

She made a fist and pounded the bed.
Wasn't listening. Thinking about psycho killer. He was in room!

“I believe you.” Demarco didn't know whether he believed her or not, but he could see she believed it. “What was it that made you think so?”

Her chest was heaving as though she were having trouble breathing, she still looked gray, and was struggling to keep humiliating tears from spilling over.

“Okay. We'll talk about it more later.” He tapped her wrist with two fingers. “Get some sleep. I'll hang for a while. The guard will be at the door at all times. Nobody will be able to get in.”

It took a good while before she settled down, but fatigue finally took over and she drifted off. He waited until he was sure she wouldn't rouse again before he went out, worry heavy on his shoulders.

The guard, one shoulder propped against the wall, was flirting with a nurse. When Demarco looked at him, he hustled back. “She okay?”

“Sleeping. Was anybody here before the governor came?”

“Not a soul.”

“You were here the whole time? Nobody else went in the room?”

“Yes, sir. No, sir.”

“You're sure. You were here the whole time?”

The guard got huffy. “Yes, sir. All the time.”

Demarco nodded. “If she wakes up, call me.”

*   *   *

The day was warm and Demarco shrugged off his suit coat and loosened his tie as he went to his car. Uneasiness hung over his mind like wet fog.

Sucking in a breath, he hit the ignition. Too close to this one. From the time she came home dressed in that ridiculous outfit and looking like a teenage hooker, he was snagged. He didn't know why she got to him so much. Gutsy little kid, managing to keep a sense of humor, even with all the shit thrown at her.

He ought to step down, stay away from this case, let Osey and Parkhurst handle it.

*   *   *

Cass saw the tape of Jack in the hospital visiting the little girl on the ten o'clock news. When it was over, the blond newscaster was shown standing in front of the hospital. “The family dog is missing. We're told it's a Belgian Shepherd, similar to a German Shepherd and its name is Rosie. And the police say it may have been injured.”

Cass looked at the dog sleeping on the rug by the hearth. “Rosie?”

The dog scrambled to its feet, ears alert.

Cass called the police department and reported she'd picked up a stray dog that may have belonged to the Egelhoff family.

Twenty minutes later, the dog barked and sped to the door. Cass opened it, expecting a uniformed officer, but the chief of police stood on her porch.

“Ms. Storm? Chief Wren.”

Cass had seen her on the news often enough lately to recognize her and asked her to come in.

The chief bent down to pet the dog. “It's been injured,” she said examining the wound on its head.

Cass nodded. “The vet said it was probably hit with something.” She invited the chief into the living room.

“How do you come to have the dog?” Chief Wren sat in the wing chair by the fireplace.

Cass, sitting on one end of the couch, explained about driving to Hampstead during the thunderstorm and finding the dog. “How is the little girl doing?”

“Doing very well. She has some recovery time coming, but she should be fine.”

The police chief asked questions about Gayle Egelhoff, about Vince Egelhoff, then about Wakely, and Cass's connection with each one. It didn't occur to Cass that the police chief, with all her politeness, was viewing her as a murder suspect until the chief started probing into her relationship with Jack Garrett. How stupid can you get? Of course, she'd be a suspect.

Arrested for murder? How's that for crisis intervention? It would certainly throw a snag into her plans for Halloween.

The chief thanked her, got up to leave, and said, “Can you keep this dog for a short while until I can make other arrangements?”

“Uh—okay,” Cass said.

37

Bernie wondered what Jack said when he whispered in the girl's ear just before they left the hospital. Jack and Molly, Todd and Leon climbed in the limo. Bernie got in the town car with Cass, Hadley and, alas, Nora. Thank God it was a short ride. Busload of crows trundled along in the rear.

The living room in the old farm house had been made into a mock-up of a television studio to give Jack prep time and practice for the upcoming talk show. Everybody took their places.

Todd, Carter Mercado the pollster, and Leon threw out questions. Bernie did the moderating. Nora, sitting with Molly on a couch pushed back against the wall, was her usual disruptive self, irritating everybody with idiotic suggestions and sighing theatrically at some of Jack's responses. It didn't take long before Todd was ready to strangle her. Cass, who only came because Bernie went after her and herded her in the car before she could escape, was in a chair angled in the corner, looking remote and far away. He slid a glance her way, worried about her. The Wanderer, Leon called her. Bernie thought she was wandering now. Hadley was in the dining room keeping tabs on the polls.

“Always remember the basic rule,” Todd said. “Never talk about complicated issues. Stay completely away from them.” Todd slid his glasses down his nose and peered over the rims at Jack to make sure he understood. “Completely.”

“Right. Never talk about anything important.”

Todd ignored the sarcasm. “Never. Because your opponents can grab a piece and run with it, distort every last word you say. If they're clever, which these are not.” He waved a hand at nonpresent opponents. “But some of their handlers are.”

He tossed out questions, Leon tossed out questions and Carter tossed out questions. Jack fumbled and stuttered.

They were all wanting a sound bite that would be picked up by the crows and spread across the news community to blunt the media blitz of fallout from the deaths of three people close to Jack. They weren't getting it. This rehearsal wasn't working and everybody knew it. They were getting boring sincerity. If this were the real thing, Senator Halderbreck would have won hands down. Even with the guy hired to critique and coach and Jack reading prescripted lines, it was obvious he was working with half a mind.

“Don't forget the economy,” Leon said.

“Yeah, yeah. Cutbacks in government spending, businesses downsizing. Prices going up.”

“Same-sex marriages,” Carter threw in to lighten the mood.

“An abomination unto the Lord,” Todd said in his character as Halderbreck.

“Okay,” Jack said, “but what's your stand on this issue? And what's your position on gay rights?”

“Jack,” Leon said.

“And while we're at it, what's your position on teenage pregnancies? Now me, I'm all in favor of passing out condoms. How about you?”

Okay, Bernie thought, Jack was getting dingy, time for a break.

“Stay away from condoms,” Leon said. “Parents think you're handing out permission when you hand their teenagers condoms.”

Jack placed fingertips against his temples, like he did when he was reaching the end of his energy reserves. Bernie wondered if they should cancel this, since it was just shambles around their feet, and let everybody go take a nap. Probably more productive than trying to pretend anything useful was going on.

Todd clapped his arm around Jack's shoulders. “We know you can do it.”

“Thanks for your support, Mom. Any other words of advice?”

“Yeah, if the opponent is winning, bite his nose.”

“That'll help.”

Before the situation deteriorated even more, Hadley rushed in. “You guys should see this.” She clicked on the television set in the corner.

For days, Leon had been trying to get Jack to cut some new ads and ditch the one they'd been using lately. Leon didn't think it had enough killer flavor. Jack liked it:

Voice-over with the resonate tones of a radio announcer said, “Senator Halderbreck promises, if he's elected president, he will raise taxes, spend more for defense and the war on terrorism, cut Social Security, cut Medicare and cut money for education.” While the announcer is talking, words appear on the screen.

1. Raise taxes.

2. Spend more.

3. Cut Social Security.

4. Cut Medicare.

5. Cut education.

Then a picture of Halderbreck appears, not an awful picture, not looking like a crook or a deranged Nixon, just friendly and smiling, but clearly looking befuddled and half-witted. The announcer says, “Do we really want this man taking away our Social Security and our children's future?”

On the screen, a shot of the
GARRETT FOR AMERICA
banner.

The ad Hadley wanted them to see was Halderbreck's response.

Halderbreck sitting on couch in cozy living room, fire in the fireplace, leans forward to watch six-year-old grandson, adorably chewing on pencil, work a page of math problems on a coffee table. Television set in the background. “Garrett For America” slide flashes on the screen.

Boy: “Who's Garrett, Grandpa?”

Halderbreck: “Nobody you want to know.” Picks up remote and clicks. Garrett For America disappears and in its place:

JACK GARRETT. FACTS

His live-in companion for twenty years was a man.

He was recently in a hospital for tests. AIDS?

He is involved in a murder investigation.

He lived in sin while in college.

MORALITY. WHAT IS IT GOVERNOR GARRETT DOESN'T UNDERSTAND?

Boy: “Would you help me, Grandpa?”

Halderbreck reaches for the boy's pencil and scribbles answer to math problem.

“Son of a bitch!” Todd pounded his fist against the wall.

“We can't let him get away with this.” Jack stomped to the back of the room and snagged a half-sandwich with dried curling bread and sank his teeth into it.

Bernie hoped the platter got refilled quick, running out of food was all they'd need.

“We gotta respond to this asshole.” Leon struggled up from his chair, plodded to the table and ripped a slice of cold pizza from where it had glued itself to the box.

Bernie thought it had a layer of cardboard adhered to it.

Hadley said, “I have a copy of the tape coming.”

“Get more pizza while you're at it.” Leon ripped off the crust and dropped it back in the box.

“We need to be careful here,” Nora said. “Maybe we should try a little spicing up. If we'd put Molly—”

Everybody ignored her.

“We gotta come up with something quick.” Todd ran a hand through his hair as he paced.

“I say we use something positive,” Leon said. “Give people some reason to like us, something to cheer about.”

“I'm not sure positive is the way to go at this point,” Molly said.

“Bernie?” Todd stopped and looked at him.

“After this piece of shit, we need to come out swinging.” Bernie said.

“I agree,” Todd said. “Leon? Any ideas which way to swing?”

Cass, looking tired and wishing she were somewhere else, absently rubbed the scar on her left wrist with her right thumb. “I think it's wrong.”

“Fuck yeah, it's wrong,” Todd said. “The question is what are we going to do?”

“No, I mean the math problem,” Cass said. “It wasn't clear enough to be sure, but I think the answer was wrong.”

Todd gaped at her, then looked around the room. Nobody else had noticed. “Hadley!”

She rushed in.

“Get our techno nerd,” Todd said. “Tell him to bring whatever he needs to look at that tape when it comes. Zero in, enhance, focus. Whatever.” Todd waved her off.

Twenty minutes later, Eugene the techno nerd was set up in the dining room. He fiddled with the mouse, clicking and moving. “All set. What did you want?”

“The paper on the coffeetable,” Todd said. “Can you close in on that?”

Eugene made a square around it and enlarged it. Nothing but fuzz. He did some clicking and moving and it came into focus.