by S. D. Tooley
Sam flipped through the pages checking to make sure she didn’t miss one word. “Hap probably confronted Preston with one of the pins. Preston felt threatened and that’s when he must have killed Hap. And because my father was going to go to the Senate Armed Services Committee to expose him, Preston had him killed, too.” Her voice trailed off as she thought again of the article reporting her father’s death. “I wonder who was the head of the Senate Armed Services Committee back then?”
“Sam.” Jake reached across the table and grabbed her hand. “We have no proof that your father was murdered. To keep focusing on Preston…”
“Speaking of Preston,” Sam started.
“No.” Jake pushed away from the table and checked his beeper.
“Just listen for a minute.” She told him how Tim had to use Preston’s computer to access the lock and key icon.
Jake pulled his cellular phone from his pocket and dialed Janet. “Did he say what he wanted?… And no one saw him leave?” He covered the mouthpiece and asked Sam, “Did you receive a call or a message today from a Lincoln Thomas?” Sam shook her head no. He returned to Janet and asked, “Did he at least leave a number?… No, that’s okay. I’ll be in shortly. If he comes back, make sure he waits.”
“Who is Lincoln Thomas?”
Jake shrugged. “He said he saw Hap’s picture in the Korean newspaper. It’s a pity he couldn’t stick around.”
Chapter 64
“Where’s he at?” Sam whispered, as she and Tim crept in through the back door by the kitchen.
“Upstairs getting ready,” Jackie replied.
They were in Preston’s house. The staff had been given the night off. Jackie had conveniently run into Preston earlier and made arrangements to stop by tonight.
“Wow.” Tim’s eyes took in Jackie’s tight black skirt and gold sequined top that was stretched over her massive chest.
“Down, boy,” Jackie laughed.
Sam stared at her reflection in the mirror above the sink — long, curly hair ratted for even more fullness, the sides punked out to display her cheekbones, cobalt blue eye shadow, lipstick thick and glossy, and large rhinestone earrings. Her royal blue spaghetti-strap dress looked as if it had been painted on.
Sam was thankful that Jake had been at the office most of the afternoon so she didn’t have to explain what she and Jackie were up to.
“Are we ready?” Jackie asked. Looking down at Sam’s feet, Jackie said, “And, pulleeze take care of my shoes.”
“I know. They cost you a hundred and fifty dollars.”
“That’s what I hate about getting a call fifteen minutes before quitting time.” Frank pounded the keyboard, pressed the PAGEUP key. “By the time we’re done talking to the stiff’s family and witnesses and writing up the report, half the night is over. Frank tugged on his tie. He pulled it off and tossed it on top of the IN box on his desk. “It’s so goddam hot in here.”
Window air conditioners were working overtime but did little to cool the central room. Ceiling fans droned overhead. Attempts were made to give desk clutter some resemblance of order by use of paperweights on haphazard stacks of papers or by placing everything from the top of the desks to the IN boxes.
Jake leaned over Frank’s shoulder reading the report as Frank typed. Jerry Sauder, the night duty desk sergeant, lumbered over to Frank’s desk. His jaws worked overtime on a piece of gum and he walked as if his feet were always in position one of ballet — pointed out, looking painfully awkward.
“Frank, call on one,” Jerry barked between chews.
“Who is this Noland guy?” Jake asked when Frank had hung up the phone.
“Parker Smith’s attorney. Parker Smith’s daughter won’t release a letter Parker wrote until she’s had a chance to read it. It seems Parker gave it to Noland years ago and told him to hold onto it and not to release it until his death.”
“I guess the sight of that pin literally scared the old guy to death.”
When Jerry put another call through, Jake punched the speaker phone. “Mitchell here.”
“Detective Mitchell?” The voice had a foreign accent, Asian, Jake guessed.
“Mr. Lincoln. I understand you came by earlier.”
“I don’t trust the phone, Detective.”
Frank looked up from the report he was signing. “Trust me, they are fine.”
“No. Nothing is fine, Detective. And I really don’t want to come back to your office. Not if he’s going to be there.”
“He, who?”
“Please, I need to meet you away from the office.”
“All right.” Jake checked his watch. It was almost eight-thirty. “You aren’t familiar with the city so why don’t you tell us where you are staying and we’ll meet you there.”
“I don’t want to give my location over the phone.”
Paranoid, Frank mouthed at Jake as he shook his head.
“You leave now. I saw your picture in the paper. I know what you look like. I will follow you.”
“What do you make of that?” Jake asked after he hung up.
“Someone who is scared for his life.”
Chapter 65
“How are we going to get Parker Smith’s daughter to let us have a peek at that letter he wrote?” Frank asked, sliding into a wide booth in the back of Izzy’s, a restaurant/bar known for its jumbo-sized burgers, fried chicken, and bottomless pitchers of beer.
“She’ll give it up once Carl exercises his authority.”
Gloria Estefan was warning that The Rhythm is Gonna Get You over the jukebox, while a bar filled with men in baseball jerseys tried to talk over the game on the television set. The eating area and bar were separated by a plaque-filled wall.
The bar should be safe enough for Lincoln Thomas, they figured. Everyone in it was a cop, including Rover, the hog-jowled owner/bartender, who had retired from the force three years before.
Two minutes later, a well-dressed Asian man of average height, walked through the front door. Jake slid out of the booth and stood up so Lincoln would see him in the back room.
He saw Jake immediately, walked over and slid into the booth across from the two men. Jake introduced himself and Frank. A waitress came over to take their orders.
“Have you eaten?” Frank asked Lincoln.
“I’m fine. Just hot tea for me.”
The two detectives ordered beer.
“You have a good memory,” Jake said, referring to Lincoln’s ability to pick Jake out of a crowd after seeing his picture.
“Yes, I believe I do.”
The back door opened and a young couple walked down the short aisle into the restaurant. Lincoln gave them a quick glance.
“Is it true what the papers say? Have you closed the Hap Wilson case?”
Karen, their waitress, set the tray on the table and distributed the drinks. “Anything to eat?”
Jake and Frank ordered burgers with the works. Clamping the empty tray under her arm, Karen hustled off to the kitchen.
“That’s the department’s official stand,” Jake replied, “but not ours.”
“And Sergeant Casey? I thought she would be here.”
“We tried reaching her but she wasn’t home and she hasn’t responded to her beeper,” Jake explained.
Reaching into his pocket, Frank said, “Let me try again.” After a few minutes, Frank reported, “Still no answer at home and her beeper isn’t on.”
Lincoln quickly checked the faces of the patrons at the tables and booths around them.
“You’re safe here,” Jake assured him. “All cops.”
Emptying a packet of sugar into his cup, Lincoln said, “Even your precinct wasn’t safe today.” Jake and Frank peered inquisitively at him over the rim of their beer glasses. “Allow me to introduce myself. Lincoln Thomas is my American name. My Korean name is Ling Toy.”
Chapter 66
Tim followed Sam into Preston’s study. On the other side of the wall, in the master bedroom, Jackie was keeping
Preston busy.
Tim’s eyes swept down the length of Sam’s legs. “I can’t get over how short that dress is.”
“The computer, Tim.” Sam pointed toward the desk. “And make it quick.”
Bony knees protruded below Tim’s wide-legged shorts. His high-top sneakers scraped along the carpet. Turning the computer on, he waited for the menu to appear.
Sam checked the surveillance camera. It was off. Jackie had seen to it when she arrived earlier. Sam walked over to the door that opened into the bedroom and pressed her ear against it. The sexy throbbing of an Enigma tune radiated through the door.
The gold sequined top slithered slowly down Jackie’s body. She stepped out of it and kicked it to one side. Leaning forward, she exposed her ample cleavage toward Preston. His glass was almost empty and his eyelids were growing heavy. He moved around in the chair, shook his head, widened his eyes as the effects of the sleeping powder took hold.
There was a footstool by a makeup table. Jackie swayed over to the stool and propped up one leg. She eyed Preston playfully as she slowly rolled the nylon stocking down one leg. After stepping out of her shoes, she peeled the nylons off and tossed them aside.
She eyed a silk scarf on the dressing table and picked it up, held it out with both hands, draped it around her shoulders, pulled it down across her breasts.
Preston’s head was starting to bob. Jackie let one strap of her teddy slide down her arm as she moved closer to Preston. She lifted the empty glass from his hand and set it on the nightstand. She stepped back, dropped the front of her teddy to her waist, and shook her massive breasts. When Preston didn’t react, Jackie said, “I do believe, Sugar, you are either dead or asleep.”
“Jezzus, Sam. What is this?” Tim stared at the pictures on the screen. He had used Preston’s password and accessed the lock-and-key file.
“Oh my god,” Sam gasped. “No wonder he only needed one set of those pictures. He scanned them into the computer.” She placed a hand on Tim’s shoulder. “Do me a favor and forget what you just saw,” Sam pleaded. “What did he program this computer to do? Can you tell?”
Tim’s fingers flew over the keyboard. A list appeared on the screen. “It’s programmed to send a full set of what’s in this file to every major newspaper, television station, and…”
“He planned on sending the pictures to every rag sheet, too.” Sam pulled Hap Wilson’s affidavit from her purse along with her father’s summary. She had planned to leave them on Preston’s desk for him to find in the morning but thought of a more devilish plan. She pointed to the piece of equipment on the two-drawer filing cabinet next to the desk. “What does this thing do?”
“That’s the scanner. You place the sheets in there and it scans it into the computer.”
Sam smiled. “And you can delete what he currently has in there?” When Tim nodded, Sam said, “Wonderful.”
She heard two raps on the door to the bedroom.
Poking her head around the door, Jackie announced, “All ready for you.”
The two women struggled with the dead weight of a sleeping Preston Hilliard. They got the top half of him into the bed, then swung his legs up and over.
Jackie positioned Preston, removing enough of his robe to prove he had nothing on underneath while still leaving vital parts covered. Sam slipped out of the blue dress, revealing a royal blue teddy.
“Have the camera?” Sam asked as she crawled into bed next to Preston.
“All set, girlfriend. This is going to be soooo much fun.”
Preston was propped up by three satin-covered pillows. Wrapping one of his arms around her shoulder, Sam leaned her head back, positioned the necklace so the lightning bolt pendant was in full view, then moved Preston’s right hand to her upper thigh.
Jackie snapped pictures as she giggled. Sam moved Preston’s head to her chest, pressed his head in close, and repositioned the necklace so it wasn’t covered.
“Now lean your head back and close your eyes like you are in complete ecstasy,” Jackie suggested.
“Oh, please. I’m going to puke.” But Sam did it anyway. “You are taking two sets of everything, right?”
“That’s right. One set for you. And one set that we are going to leave right here on his dresser.”
The women dressed quickly, covered Preston with the bedspread, left one set of pictures on the dresser, and returned to the study.
“All done?” Sam asked.
Tim grinned. “This is some of my best work ever.”
Chapter 67
“Yeh, baby. I’ll be home shortly. Abby’s packin’ us a late snack.” Frank winked at Abby as he spoke with Claudia on his cellular phone. “Did you tell Justin I’ll read him two stories tomorrow since I missed out tonight?… Okay, Sweetheart. See you soon.” He hung up the phone and joined Jake at the counter.
Jake stirred his coffee with deliberation. He and Frank had deposited Lincoln Thomas and his luggage in Carl’s suite. Lincoln’s signed affidavit confirmed what Hap Wilson had written about Mushima Valley. Carl needed time to figure out his next step. Until then, he had instructed Jake to still not share any information with Sam.
“Did Sam say when she’d be home?” Frank asked Abby.
“She said she was going to see a friend of hers — Jackie.”
They heard voices at the back door, laughing, school-girl giggling.
“You should keep the dress, Sam. You never know when you and Preston might have another date,” Jackie said.
When they reached the doorway to the kitchen, the two women stopped. Frank, Jake, and Abby stared in amazement.
“Jackie,” Abby said suddenly, her eyes taking in the short length of Sam’s dress. “I don’t believe you’ve met Jake Mitchell and Frank Travis.”
“My, my.” Jackie stretched her long talons toward them. “Hello, boys. Why didn’t they have guys like you when the cops busted me in my youth?”
Frank smiled broadly, finding it hard to peel his eyes from Jackie’s well-endowed figure, Donna Summer hair, and appealing smile.
“What’s this about Preston?” Jake asked abruptly.
“Preston. I almost forgot.” Jackie reached into her purse and pulled out the pictures.
“NO!” Sam said quickly, but she was too late. Jake grabbed the pictures.
“WOW! Frank yelled from over Jake’s shoulder. Abby leaned over the counter to have a look, then turned away, a smile spreading over her face.
The necklace was in plain sight in all of the pictures. It was difficult for anyone to tell that Preston was not in control of his faculties.
Jake threw the pictures on the counter yelling, “SHIT!” He leaped to his feet. “You better tell me this is the only set.”
“Uh, oh.” Jackie took one step backward. “I think this is my cue.” She pointed at Sam’s feet. “My two-hundred-dollar shoes, girlfriend.”
“Three hours ago they were worth one hundred and fifty,” Sam argued, stepping out of the royal blue heels.
“Inflation, baby.” Jackie gave a wave of her hand to the guys saying, “Nice meeting you.” To Abby she said, “Nice seeing you again.”
Frank raised a finger as if a light bulb switched on in his head. He looked at Jackie and asked, “Do you deal blackjack by any chance?”
“Uhhh…” Jackie glanced sharply at Sam, then said, “Gotta go.”
“She was at Preston’s, wasn’t she?” Frank asked Sam after Jackie left.
Jake’s eyes narrowed. “Tell me you weren’t dealing blackjack, that night, too.” Sam didn’t reply.
Feeling another argument brewing, Frank slapped Jake on the back saying, “Uh, later.” He picked up the container of cake, thanked Abby, and left.
Sam had never been on the receiving end of Jake’s interrogative scowl before. His face was such a mask of contradiction — one minute grinning, mischievous, ruggedly good looking; the next minute menacing, frightening, threatening.
She felt the air move as Abby slipped past her and dis
appeared down the hallway. The sound of an owl hooting drifted in through the patio screen. Sam folded her arms in front of her and waited.
“What were you trying to do? Blackmail Preston into admitting he killed Hap Wilson?”
“I don’t need to.” She noticed Jake was wearing her father’s arrowhead necklace and leather wristband but before she could say anything, he lifted up one of the pictures, his tight grip crimping one of the corners.
“Just look. You know he’s going to see the pin.”
“That’s the plan.”
He slapped the pictures on the counter again. “You are dealing with a dangerous man. If Preston is involved in Hap’s and your father’s deaths, he went through a lot of trouble to cover his tracks. He’s not above making sure his secret stays dead. I think that intruder who tripped the perimeter alarm the other night was Preston’s handyman.”
“You’re getting paranoid.” Sam turned and headed toward the study.
“Don’t walk away from me.” Jake followed her.
“Who gave you the right to give me orders in my house?”
Jake glared at Sam’s punked hair, her bright eye shadow, the thick lipstick. “Go wash that shit off your face.”
Her mouth gaped. “Excuse me? I thought my father passed away.”
“I thought his daughter grew up.”
Sam bolted up the stairs to her bedroom, noticing that Abby’s bedroom door was conveniently closed. Where was she when Jake was at his worst? She took a hot shower and washed her hair.
Dressed in sweat shorts and a sweat suit top, she ambled back downstairs. The lights were off in the dining room. She stretched out on the window seat and gazed up at the night sky. She felt bad about her argument with Jake. Part of her wanted to say it was none of his business where she was tonight. A larger part was flattered that he was concerned for her safety. She cursed herself for giving him such a hard time. Something was tugging at her heart. She found herself wanting to know all the secrets about his scars that Abby wouldn’t tell her. At what point had she started caring what he thought? She wasn’t sure. All she knew was that she did.
