Fear Familiar Bundle

by Caroline Burnes

  Magdalena nodded slowly. "For a while it looked as if you were guilty. But you cleared your name. And Evans disappeared underground."

  The stir of emotions created a pounding headache in the back of Peter's head. "I quit vet school for two years after the fire. I couldn't accept what had happened, what Evans had done." He paced the room again. "I was almost finished with my degree. I had three weeks left in the summer to work at the chemical company. Three weeks, and I stumbled on Arnold's experiments."

  A worried look crossed Magdalena's face. "Have you revealed any of this to Eleanor?"

  "No." The word was spoken in a near whisper.

  "You have to tell her, Peter. Before she finds out about it from someone else. She must hate me, knowing that I've lied to her. If she finds that you've betrayed her, it might break her heart. I see the way she looks at you. It's something rare and special. Don't lose it."

  Magdalena's words created a sudden panic in Peter's blood that mingled with the pounding in his head. He'd been a fool to leave her alone in her apartment building. If they could find her on a houseboat, then…

  "I'd better talk with her now," he said, heading for the door.

  "Good idea," Magdalena said. "And ask her to forgive me. My deception was never malicious." She had her hand on the front door when the bell rang. She pulled the door open.

  "Magdalena Caruso?" a uniformed officer asked.

  "Yes," she answered.

  "Please come with us." He took her arm and signaled to his partner, who appeared from the side of the house.

  "What is this about?" Peter asked. He didn't like the way they were hauling at Magdalena's arm.

  "You have the right to remain silent— " the officer said, beginning the litany of the Miranda rights.

  "What's the charge?" Peter interrupted.

  Bewildered, Magdalena looked from one to the other. At last she jerked her arm so suddenly that she was free. "What is the charge?" she demanded.

  "First-degree murder of Rayburn Smith."

  Chapter Twelve

  Peter recognized the tall, slender figure and stepped out from behind a column near The Hub. "Wait up," he called to Eleanor as he started to jog. "I looked all over for you last night. I've been here since eight this morning, waiting for you." With all of the worry about her, it had been the longest night of his life.

  "You aren't the only person I know in town," she said, never slackening her pace. He drew abreast and she finally looked at him. "And you're the last person I want to see."

  "Magdalena's been arrested for the murder of that man in your apartment."

  Those words worked like hydraulic brakes. Eleanor stopped so fast that she nearly fell over.

  "Magdalena? Charged with murder? What kind of joke is that?"

  She was still wary of him. Peter saw it clearly in her eyes. The brown depths that had once reflected such trust now harbored only suspicion.

  "I wish it were a joke," he said softly. "The police checked the murder weapon that was left in your apartment. It was registered to Magdalena. In fact, it's probably one of the few registered guns in town," he added dryly.

  "Any fool could see that the gun has been planted," Eleanor said hotly.

  "I'm glad you can defend Magdalena, even after she held things back from you." He let that point sink in. "I'm hoping you'll be able to get over your anger at me and let me explain."

  "Both of you used me for your own reasons." Mixed with the anger was pain. "It doesn't matter. As soon as I find Familiar I'm leaving Washington."

  "Leaving? To go where?"

  "Someplace different. Someplace where I can try and start again. I don't know what you got me mixed up in, you and Magdalena, but whatever is it, I can't live in it. I want my own life, my own past." She turned away. "Tell Magdalena I'm sorry, but there's nothing I can do to help her. It's a bitter irony, but I really am innocent."

  "I know that." Peter touched her arm, his fingers circling the delicate flesh until he stopped her and pulled her to face him. "Now," he added. "At first I didn't believe you."

  "Better late than never." She tried to harden her tone, but it wasn't working very effectively. There was a dangerous crack.

  "You can help Magdalena."

  "How?"

  "Tell me everything that happened the night you went to the Behavioral Institute. What did you observe about the man calling himself Cal Vrenner? What about the facilities? What did Breck say? How did he react to Vrenner? What exactly are they doing in that building?"

  "Why is this suddenly so important?" She looked at him and saw his intensity, something had aged him. He wasn't playing games. He was really worried.

  "I spent most of last night trying to find you, and the rest of it trying to get in at the jail to talk with Magdalena, but I couldn't. You're the only one who can answer these questions for me."

  "Why should I?"

  "Cal Vrenner is really a man I knew years ago called Arnold Evans. He tried to kill me, and he framed me for some pretty horrible experiments. I've been actively looking for him for the past three months, after his picture turned up in a pet care magazine."

  "I saw that! In your office!" Eleanor's eyes grew luminous. "The man looked like someone I knew, but the name was wrong. It was Vrenner!"

  "Let's go to your office. I want you to tell me everything you remember."

  "And you'll tell me about Vrenner— I mean Evans."

  "I'll tell you everything," Peter agreed. Eleanor was looking at him, doubt still lingering in her eyes. He bent and briefly kissed her lips. The relief at seeing her was tremendous. His arms went around her, and she didn't resist. Her slender body pressed hesitantly against his, and he was suddenly aware of her vulnerability.

  "Oh, Eleanor," he said. "I've been so worried about you. Last night I didn't know where you were. After the bomb I realized how much trouble you might be in, and that part of it was my fault."

  "It's okay," she managed. She felt her own relief at Peter's return now that he was willing to explain his actions. The feeling of betrayal, which had attacked her all night, diminished slightly. There was still much to be settled, but it was good to see him, to feel his arms and lips.

  She pulled back so that she could look at him. "Let's go to my office and get this straight. I do have a cat to find."

  Reluctantly he broke the embrace. The chances of finding Familiar were slim to nothing, and he almost told her. Instead, he took her arm and linked it through his own. "Let me tell you about Evans." Arm in arm they walked across the campus, and he told her about the fire.

  They had been in her office for several minutes, and he'd finished with his story. In the silence that followed, Eleanor put on a pot of coffee. Soon a rich aroma filled the room, while steam obscured the tall window, fogging the winter view of the nearly empty campus. "I'm ready now to tell you about Vrenner."

  Peter took out a notebook. "I'm going to write down what you say, okay?"

  She nodded.

  "What was your reaction to this Vrenner?"

  Eleanor pressed a finger across her lips as she thought. "I couldn't tell what he was thinking about me. Breck thought I was guilty and didn't bother to hide it. But Vrenner, or Evans, was unreadable. I remember his eyes, the way he stared at me. It was unnerving, but I didn't get any sort of animosity. Almost a total isolation, as if I were a different species, something he wanted to study further." A chill raced along her arms and she rubbed them. "He was creepy."

  "Magdalena said the place was almost empty, right?"

  "There was only the orangutan."

  "Tell me about it," Peter prompted.

  "It's a female, or at least it curtsies. Anyway, it's being trained by Evans as some gift to a head of state. Breck made the arrangements…."

  "You'd think someone like Breck, with all of the surveillance equipment in the world at his fingertips, could break through a phony identity like Cal Vrenner!" Peter almost exploded. He dropped from the edge of the desk to the floor and started p
acing. "Evans has been right here in this town, and no one's even bothered to notice. I mean the man is wanted for arson and attempted murder!" He threw himself into the chair. "I'm sorry for the outburst. It's extremely frustrating."

  "I understand." Eleanor poured two cups of coffee and handed him a sky-blue mug. "Anyway, Breck hired Evans. I don't believe Breck ever said who the ape is to be given to, but he did say she was being given by some Nottingham person. I remember, because I always loved Robin Hood and hated the Sheriff of Nottingham." She sipped her coffee.

  "The rest of the lab was empty?"

  "As far as I could tell. There were these horrible, dirty cages. But whoever stole the cats must have gotten all the other animals. I think the ape was in a small back room. We didn't get to see it."

  "Knowing Evans, you probably didn't want to see it. There's no telling what he's done to that poor animal. Well, now it's time to get to work." He rose.

  "And do what?" Eleanor asked.

  "I want you to find this Nottingham person and make an appointment. I'm going back to Magdalena's to see if I can find any clues. I'm certain the man who broke into her house and hit her also took her gun. She said she was pointing it at him when he struck her with the door. It's obvious to me that he took the gun, killed Rayburn Smith and then planted the weapon to frame Magdalena."

  "My reasoning exactly," Eleanor agreed. "But what about Familiar?"

  "Let's look for a while now," Peter suggested gently. He walked across to her and put an arm around her shoulder. "But please don't get your hopes up."

  They searched near the library, where she'd first found the cat. They stopped every person on campus, but no one had noticed a black cat. Walking up and down along the shrubs, Eleanor softly called for the cat. After an hour of searching, she finally conceded that Familiar wasn't going to appear.

  "Let's get on with the other stuff. I still haven't given up, though. I just need to think of another place to look. Where would he go if he were free? That's what I have to figure out," she said softly.

  "If you can make an appointment with this Nottingham, do it."

  "I'll start with a list of ambassadors, things like that."

  "Don't call Breck's office," Peter cautioned her.

  "Why not?"

  "Just a hunch."

  "You think he might be— ?"

  "I don't think anything," Peter interrupted. "Let's just keep our cards to ourselves. You have to admit, that guy he posted at your apartment building isn't very bright."

  Alva Rousel had told her about Code One Orange, an obvious violation of CIA procedure. He'd even admitted that he talked too much. "Okay," Eleanor agreed. "I can't believe I'm doing this. I thought I told you when we first met that I didn't like games of espionage and intrigue."

  "Well— " he grinned at her "— you obviously lied." Placing a kiss upon her cheek, he left.

  Eleanor hustled to the library and went through a stack of governmental reference books before she found Nottingham listed.

  "War hero in Vietnam, former CIA agent in Central America, ambassador to Motambu, now a congressman from Maine. Quite an illustrious career," she mumbled as she made notes. Her eyes went back to the CIA notation. Central America! Code One Orange! Rushing to the pay telephone outside the library, she called Peter's office, but he was in surgery.

  She had no trouble obtaining Nottingham's office phone number and placed the call from her office, door firmly closed.

  "Sam Nottingham," he said when he finally came on the line.

  "Eleanor Duncan," she replied, matching his professional tone. "I'd like to see you about a female orangutan. It's vital."

  "What?" The cultured voice was startled.

  "No joke, Congressman."

  "What is this about? I demand to know."

  "I'm perfectly willing to discuss this with you. Set a meeting."

  A thin edge of anger came into the man's voice. "This better not be some prank. Meet me in thirty minutes, at my office in the Cannon Building."

  "I'll be there," Eleanor said. She checked her watch. She could just about make it there in half an hour, if she hurried.

  She threw herself into the drive with the fervor of a cabby. Dayton Avenue seemed the most direct and fastest route, and she pushed her accelerator dangerously close to the floor as she drove. With less than a minute to spare, she found herself standing at Representative Nottingham's door.

  "He's waiting for you," the receptionist told her with a disapproving look.

  Frederick Nottingham was not what Eleanor expected. He was a man of medium height with a shock of prematurely white hair, and blue eyes that were surrounded by a dense web of lines. Another man, dressed in the dark blue suit of an administrative assistant, was sitting unobtrusively in a corner.

  "I seldom meet with people who sound like kooks over the phone," he began. "Don't make me regret that I did so today."

  "I'm not a kook," Eleanor said flatly. He hadn't offered her a seat, but she took one in front of his desk.

  "I know about your gift, the orangutan." She hoped to shock him enough so that he'd listen.

  The aide in the chair rose slowly to his feet.

  "So?" Nottingham said, but a lot of the anger was gone from his voice. "It isn't a state secret that I intend to make a gift of her. Is there something wrong with that?"

  "I don't know," Eleanor said. She leaned forward and placed her hands upon his desk. "I'm not certain of anything, except that the man who's training the ape is a wanted criminal."

  "Dr. Vrenner?" Nottingham was clearly incredulous. "Don't be absurd. He has impeccable credentials. I think you should be leaving, Ms. Duncan." He waved at the aide, who appeared at Eleanor's elbow.

  "Vrenner is an alias for a man named Arnold Evans. His record is anything but impeccable. Check it out." She felt the aide's hands on her arms, lifting her from the chair.

  "Mr. Nottingham, be reasonable. Why would I come here and say these things? Why?"

  "In the half hour since you called, I discovered that you are mixed up in some behavior that leaves a lot of questions in my mind. I don't know why you have chosen me to torment, but I won't have it. Now get out of my office, and I warn you, leave my orangutan alone!"

  "At least check the Vrenner angle," Eleanor said. She was being propelled toward the door. "For your safety, check it," she told him, shooting the words over her shoulder before she found herself in the receptionist's office. The woman gave her a scathing look and pointed at the door.

  Eleanor hesitated. She didn't know what to do. She hadn't been able to talk with Nottingham the way she'd wanted to. She had come off as some kind of nut. But where had he heard about her? Breck! That was the obvious connection. And because of Magdalena, Breck believed she was part of it all.

  "If you don't leave, I'll call security," the receptionist said, picking up the phone.

  "I'm going," Eleanor replied.

  The phone on the desk buzzed. The receptionist answered it and turned back to Eleanor. Curiosity filled her eyes. "Representative Nottingham has asked that you meet him with Charles Breck and some others in the Capitol. Breck will be leaving the house gallery. Meet them in the outer chamber."

  "When?" Eleanor felt a thrill of victory. Maybe Nottingham had made one call about Vrenner. That was all it would take.

  "Immediately. You can take the tunnels and save time," the woman said. "Here." She handed her a pass. "Now hurry!" A note of excitement made her voice sound sharp.

  Eleanor eyed the phone longingly. She wanted to call Peter to find what he'd learned about Magdalena. She had to give it a try! Ignoring the frosty glare of the receptionist, she borrowed the telephone. As before, Peter was not available.

  "You're going to be late," the receptionist warned her.

  "One more call." She dialed Betty Gillette. "Find Peter if you can, and tell him I'm meeting with Representative Sam Nottingham and Breck at the Capitol. We may get to the bottom of this monkey business," she said. "I can't talk anymore,"
she concluded, not giving Betty a chance to respond. She hung up.

  Eleanor left Nottingham's office and took the elevator to the entrance to the tunnels. She'd heard about them, of course, but her one and only visit to Capitol Hill had been strictly as a tourist. There'd been no need to use the underground web of walkways that connected some of the main office buildings with the Capitol.

  An aide pointed her down the dark tunnel that would take her to the tram, which ran every two minutes. When the House adjourned, she could imagine the hustle and crowding of the tunnels, but at midafternoon, the one she walked through was deserted.

  Her heels made a soft, crunchy noise on the concrete floor, and overhead the hissing of steam through pipes gave a strange, surrealistic sensation of moving through time. In a moment of sudden panic, she felt as if she'd been swallowed by a snake.

  "Eleanor!" The name was a whisper behind her, barely audible above the gurgling pipes.

  Up ahead she could hear voices, the quick exchange of greetings and laughter. She moved from one light to the next along the curvy tunnel.

  "Eleanor, you can't run away from me." Now laughter floated behind her.

  Her hand clutched her purse and she whirled. A tall man walked toward her out of the darkness.

  "Who are you?" she demanded.

  "It's me, Carter. Don't you even recognize your husband?"

  The faint aroma of cigarette smoke tantalized her nostrils, and she saw the man take a long draw. Smoke curled out of his mouth and surrounded his head.

  "Carter Wells is dead," she answered, though her heart was nearly bursting with fear. "I'm warning you to leave me alone."

  "Give it back, Eleanor." He moved closer. "Just give it back and I'll go away." He laughed softly. "I'll descend back to the grave."

  A noise behind her startled her anew. Someone else was coming. She distinctly heard the sound of leather soles gritting on the cement. If she could only keep the apparition talking, then she might be able to trap him.

  "What is it that you want? Maybe if you tell me, I'll give it to you."