Mirror Image: A Catrina Flaherty Mystery (Catrina Flaherty Mysteries Book 1)

by Pendelton C. Wallace

  Also by Pendelton C. Wallace

  Blue Water & Me, Tall Tales of Adventures With My Father

  Blue Water & Me is a high-adventure true story of author Penn Wallace's magical first summer fishing with his father, Blue Water Charlie, off the coast of Mexico at age eleven.

  Christmas Inc.

  What would happen if Santa decided to go public and sell shares of Christmas on the NASDAQ? What would happen to the elves if he outsourced toy making to China?

  Warning: This is not a children’s book. Exposure to children under 12-years old may cause child to stop believing in Santa Claus or take a cynical view of Christmas.

  The Inside Passage (Ted Higuera Series Book 1)

  Somewhere on Canada's Inside Passage, terrorist plot to destroy a cruise ship filled with celebrities and VIP’s. Ripped from today's headlines, a group of Canadian-born terrorist plan to bring their war to the Western Hemisphere.

  It’s also the story of a young Latino man coming of age in an Anglo world. Ted Higuera and his friends stumble upon an al-Qaeda plot to blow up the cruise ship and the clock starts ticking.

  Can Ted and his friends act in time to save the thousands of people aboard the Star of the Northwest?

  Hacker for Hire (Ted Higuera Series Book 2)

  If Clive Cussler had written Ugly Betty, it would be Hacker for Hire.

  Hacker for Hire, a suspense novel about corporate greed and industrial espionage, is the second book in a series about Latino computer security analyst Ted Higuera and his best friend, para-legal Chris Hardwick.

  When you’re already in the top 1% of the country’s money makers, how much is enough?

  Ted and Catrina are led deep into Seattle’s Hi-Tech world as they stalk a killer. But the killer is also hunting them. Can they find the killer before the killer finds them?

  Mirror Image

  By

  Pendelton C. Wallace

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental

  Copyright © 2014 Pendelton C. Wallace

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. For permission, contact Victory Press at www.pennwallace.com.

  www.pennwallace.com

  Author’s Note

  This is a disturbing tale. If you are faint of heart or abhor graphic sex and violence, do not continue reading. The sex and violence depicted in this story are there because that is the way it happened.

  Unfortunately, this story is taken from a real-life tragedy. I can’t make this kind of stuff up. I won’t go into details about when or where this happened, but it really did happen. I inserted Cat and her friends into the story, but it essentially occurred as depicted here. To paraphrase the old Dragnet TV series, “This story you are about to read is true. The names have been changed to protect the innocent.”

  The main character in this story, Catrina Flaherty, is based on a female private investigator for whom I did some IT consulting work several years ago. You may not believe what you read about her, but trust me, Catrina’s character is as close to the truth as I could get without revealing her true identity.

  Catrina Flaherty is a very complex individual. She is driven by a conflicted past. She was raised by a police officer father and has five police officer brothers, she was the abused wife of a Seattle Police Department officer, she was the victim of incredible sexual harassment as a Port of Seattle police officer. She filed a sexual harassment lawsuit against the PoSPD, was eventually joined by seven other female officers, and won the largest settlement ever given against a US police department.

  I was asked to write a short story by the Seattle chapter of the Mystery Writers of America. They were starting a new magazine that would feature local authors’ mystery fiction. The one direction that they gave was that the city of Seattle must be the setting and that the setting must play an important part in the story.

  I was writing Hacker for Hire at the time and was in love with the Catrina Flaherty character. I wanted to write a story about Cat that explained why she became the person that she is.

  The magazine never got off the ground. However, the story persisted. After I published Hacker for Hire, I decided to publish this story to help readers understand Catrina.

  I know I want to write more about her.

  Pendelton C. Wallace

  La Paz, BCS, Mexico

  July 12, 2014

  Mirror Image

  Seattle is a city defined by water. To the west, the great inland sea called Puget Sound, doorway to the Pacific Ocean, dances and sparkles in the summer sunlight. It broods maliciously under dark, wet winter skies.

  The Ship Canal connects the Sound to the first of the lakes. Following the canal through the Hiram Chittenden locks, the watery trail leads to Lake Union, a heart shaped body of water in the heart of The City. The Ship Canal snakes into the top of the lake on the west side and slithers out again at the top of the east side, a great artery leading to Lake Washington.

  Lake Washington, a long, thin body of water, marks the eastern boundary of The City. To Seattleites, the cities of the East Side, Bellevue, Kirkland, Renton, etc. are foreign soil. East of the first rank of East Side cities lies Lake Sammamish, running parallel to Lake Washington's path.

  With all of the waterways cutting through the metropolis, Seattle is a north-south city, and just to the north of Lake Union is the Wallingford neighborhood.

  To the casual observer, Wallingford is a cheery urban village. 45th Street runs east and west though the heart of the neighborhood, filled with mom and pop businesses. Not a single big box store, franchise fast food restaurant or chain department store soils the area.

  But appearances can be deceiving. Under the thin veneer of a bright young city lies a murky heart and soul.

  ****

  Darkness seeped into every corner of the alleyway, the broken streetlight helpless to penetrate the gloom. A weak incandescent bulb above a steel door offered the only illumination.

  A tall middle aged woman in a blue track suit with white stripes running up the arms and legs walked cautiously past the green dumpster. As she looked quickly from side to side, her short blonde hair whipped around her face. She stopped and glanced behind, her legs spread apart with her weight on the balls of her feet, fists clinched, crouched for action. No trace of anyone following her.

  Her long legs floated soundlessly over the pavement, her gray eyes constantly checking her perimeters. Where is he?

  She stopped to listen. No sound escaped the black hole of the alley. She took a fleeting look at her wrist watch.

  Thirty seconds. Any time now.

  She knew what was happening. No matter how many times she did this, the panic still crept up her throat, her arms and legs felt shaky and weak. The palms of her hands and the soles of her feet tingled. She took a deep breath. Her rib cage expanded against her tight sports bra. The sudden influx of air felt good. She forced the panic back down her chest.

  Without warning, she felt an arm around her neck, smelled hot breath on her collar, saw the black wrist beneath her chin. She leaned back into her attacker. "Always use your opponent’s weight against him," she shouted, then stomped down on the top of her attacker's foot.

  He screame
d and jumped back. She pushed back harder and he stumbled. She turned in his grasp, slamming her elbow into his solar plexus as she turned. He released his grip and reached in his back pocket, producing a swing-blade knife.

  "Once you've broken free," she yelled, "take every opportunity to run. Scream your head off. Never try to fight with your opponent unless you have no choice."

  She lashed out with her right foot and caught the attacker in the side of his knee before he had a chance to close in on her. His leg crumpled and he dropped to one knee. She kicked out at his hand and the knife went flying. One final kick to his helmeted head and he fell backwards.

  "Now is the time to run."

  The house lights came up and the audience burst into a roar of applause.

  "Hi, I'm Catrina Flaherty." She ran both hands through her hair and fought to control her breath. "I'll be your instructor today. You can call me Cat. This poor battered soul," she reached down and offered her former opponent a hand, "is my partner, Jonathon Jefferson. He goes by Jeff."

  Jeff removed his helmet to reveal a movie-star handsome black face, complete with a shaved head and gold earring. "Hi, y'all. I gotta find a new line of work." He shook his head as he removed his body armor. He got a nervous trace of laughter from the audience.

  "I've been where you're sitting," Catrina began her lecture for the umpteenth time in the gym of Wallingford's old elementary school turned community center. "My husband beat and abused me. You wouldn't believe some of the things he did to me, and I was a trained police officer. Then one day, I decided I'd had enough." She paused as the memories came flooding back. "Since I recovered, I've dedicated my life to helping others in my position."

  In the front row a petite brunette with a haunted look in her eyes caught Catrina's attention. She'd seen that look a thousand times before. Dressed in a pretty flower print dress, the woman stood out. Everyone else was dressed for action.

  "Please stack your folding chairs," Catrina waved towards some dollies on the perimeter of the gym, "and let's get to work."

  She watched the small woman. Her movements were slow, zombie-like, like she had to stop and think out every action before she moved. Her eyes, filled with a sad, faraway look, constantly darted from side to side. This woman is clearly in trouble.

  At the first break, Catrina sought out the distressed woman. "Hi, I'm glad to see you here today."

  "Thank you." Her voice was low and soft.

  "What's your name?" Catrina had to get her talking.

  "Mandy."

  "Hi Mandy, I'm Cat." Catrina held out her hand.

  Mandy hesitated for a moment, then took it. Her grip was soft and cool, like shaking hands with a corpse.

  "What brings you here today, Mandy?"

  "I . . . I don't know. I think this was a mistake. I should go. . ."

  Catrina held onto Mandy's hand when she tried to break free and turn. "Mandy, you're here for a reason. I can see you're hurting. Can we talk about it?"

  "No. . . I mean. . . if my husband finds out about this. . ."

  "We're just getting started. It'll be fun."

  "If I get a run in my panty hose, he'll know. He'll kill me."

  Mandy's as nervous as a cat at a dog fight.

  Catrina handed Mandy a business card. "If you need help, even if it's just someone to talk to, give me a call. I'm available twenty-four hours a day."

  Mandy studied the card. It said Flaherty & Associates, Investigations. "I better just go home before he misses me."

  "Is he at home now?" Catrina held Mandy's shoulder with one hand.

  "No, but he's out and about all day. He drives by the house or has one of his squad cars check on me several times a day."

  "One of his squad cars?" Catrina didn't like where this was going.

  "He's the chief of police." Mandy turned and walked away.

  Chief of police? Holy shit.

  ****

  The aroma of sautéing onions filled the house. Mandy's mother taught her to always get onions cooking before her husband came home. The smell of the onions would convince him that something delicious was going on in the kitchen.

  Mandy's upscale home, a faux Mediterranean villa with pink stucco walls, sat in an upscale neighborhood in Gig Harbor, once a fishing village, now a tourist Mecca on the eastern shores of Puget Sound. Built around the waterfront, the village oozed back into the hills of the Olympic Peninsula. From the top of one of those hills, Mandy could look out over the tranquil waters. The pastoral scenery did not match the turmoil in her soul.

  Mandy stood at the kitchen sink peeling potatoes without looking at them. She concentrated on the kitchen window instead, looking out over the front yard to the street beyond.

  It was time for Dwayne to come home. Will he notice that I drove to Seattle? Every day when he got home, the first thing he did was check the odometer on her car.

  At exactly six thirty, his burgundy Toyota Camry pulled into the driveway. The tall, uniformed man got out and went straight to the driver's door of her car. If Mandy hadn't been so terrified of what he would find, she would have marveled at his amazing good looks, his tall, straight body, his broad shoulders and trim hips.

  Instead, tears formed in her eyes and she began to shake. She knew what was coming.

  Dwayne burst through the door. "Mandy, get in here."

  His angry tone shook Mandy to her bones. She put down the potato, wiped her hands and stepped into the living room. She glanced up at their two children, Joyce, eight, and Daniel, five, standing at the top of the stairs. "Hi, honey. Dinner’s on the way."

  Dwayne covered the distance between Mandy and him in a single stride. He grabbed her long brown hair and twisted her face up to look at him. "Where’ve you been today?" His voice was somewhere between a snarl and a shout.

  "I went to my mother's. We took a ride."

  "One hundred and thirty-one miles? You took a ride for one hundred and thirty-one miles?" Dwayne tightened his grip on her hair. "You expect me to believe your went driving for one hundred thirty-one miles?"

  "Dwayne, let go of my hair, you're hurting me."

  "I'm going to hurt you a lot worse if you don't tell me the truth. Who is he? Who did you go see?"

  Mandy squirmed free. "Mom. I was at Mom's house all day." She knew she was going to pay for this. "Call her. She'll tell you."

  "I did call her. Several times today."

  Oh God, oh God. He knows.

  "I was helping her in the garden." Mandy and her mother had worked out her cover story long before Mandy made the trip to Seattle.

  The blow was quick and unexpected. Dwayne lashed across her face with the back of his hand. "Don't lie to me. I had a patrol car check your mom's house. Your car wasn't there."

  "I told you, we went for a drive. We drove up to Sky Nursery in Seattle."

  "Did you buy anything? Do you have a receipt?" He was right in her face, his minty breath blowing down on her.

  Tears ran down her cheeks. Mandy struggled to answer. "I didn't. . . Mom did. . . You can check with her." Her eyes darted up the stairs to her children.

  Dwayne wrapped his hands around her neck. "I already did. I called her when your car wasn't there. She said you couldn't come to the phone."

  "Dwayne, I can't breathe," she croaked.

  "I'd be doing you a favor." He shook her head back and forth until her eyes rattled around in their sockets.

  He released her neck with his right hand and reached to his side to pull his service revolver.

  God no! Not in front of the children.

  He held the barrel to her head. "You need to be taught a lesson." He cocked the hammer back with a loud click. "You're never going to get out of this marriage alive."

  Mandy's world swirled around her. Her knees went weak, but he held her up by her neck.

  "Dwayne." Her voice was barely a whisper. "The children are watching."

  "It's a good lesson for them, to see what happens when they disobey their father." He moved the
barrel of his gun under her chin. "I think it's time you showed me how much you love me. I'm going to bring one of my detectives over tomorrow night. Get rid of the kids. You're going to be very nice to her."

  ****

  Catrina drove her burgundy Ford Explorer onto I-5 southbound from her SoDo neighborhood office. The drive, through Tukwila, SeaTac and Federal Way paralleled the shores of Puget Sound. When she reached Fife, the freeway turned west towards Tacoma. She exited at University Place onto Highway 16 towards the Tacoma Narrows Bridge.

  Here the scenery changed from urban sprawl to spectacular settings. The suspension bridge crossed high over the Tacoma Narrows, separating the South Sound from what is generally referred to as Puget Sound. The South Sound wound, twisted and snaked all the way south to the state's capital of Olympia. Large and small emerald islands littered the seascape.

  As she marveled at the scenery, Catrina reviewed what she had learned about Dwayne Alcott. After Mandy called, she did a quick background check.

  Dwayne was the chief of police of the second largest city in Washington. At forty-four, he moved up through the ranks quickly. He had two commendations in his file for putting his own life at risk to save citizens. His service record was squeaky clean.

  His finances were all in order. He had a credit rating of seven hundred and eighty. Never missed a payment, had thirty-seven thousand dollars in savings. No outstanding debts.

  This guy was too good to be true.

  Catrina slowed and turned into the driveway. The yard was immaculately maintained. No weed would dare grow in the chief's yard.

  She looked into the mirror and checked her hair and makeup. What foolishness. She had stopped caring about her looks years ago, but for her court appearance earlier today, she had to be professional. No, more than professional. She needed to look like an expert, but exude an aura of sexiness.