by Gary Ruffin
I chuckled, and said, “Call me whatever you want, but believe me, I won’t have any trouble recognizin’ your voice.”
“Good. I shan’t have any problem with that Southern drawl of yours, either. Now. Look here at the creep’s latest missive,” she said, taking my arm and pulling me towards the coffee table.
I asked, “This may seem like a dumb question, but is it the same person?”
She said, “Actually, that’s not a dumb question a’tall. The name is slightly different this time. See where it says ‘not-so-shy-guy2’ at the top of the box?”
“Yes. You said ‘slightly different.’ In what way?”
“The first message didn’t have a ‘two’ after ‘guy.’ That’s easily explained, of course, as I’m sure you know.”
“I may be the most computer-illiterate person left on Earth,” I said. “My secretary and officers take care of all the computer stuff. I’m just not plugged-in, so to speak. Explain it to me, and talk reeeaaalll slow.”
That earned me a smile, and she said, “Well, the thing is, when you go online using an instant messenger, you can create up to six identities on some of them. I think that’s right. I could be proven wrong, but I’m fairly sure that’s the way this messenger works. Anyway, since he used ‘not-so-shy-guy’ on the first computer messenger, if he tried to use it again on a different computer, it would tell him the name was already taken.” She frowned, and continued, “But, he could have used the same computer, and simply have added the ‘two’ to confuse us. But why would he do that? I think we should assume it’s a different computer, don’t you?”
It made sense to me, so I nodded my assent.
She went on, “So, since it’s probably a different computer, he adds a ‘two,’ and the messenger sees it as a different name, and allows it. Know what I mean?”
Women with English accents really do it for me. Especially when they have a pleasant voice, like this one. The way she pronounced Cooper, it came out, ‘Coo-puh.’ I could’ve listened to her blather on about anything, but the amazing thing was, I actually understood what she’d said about the computer messenger.
I said, “Okay, so he most likely used a different computer; and stating the obvious, a different location. First things first. Let me call and report this so the Feds can locate the address. I guess it’s too much to hope for, but maybe there was no one killed this time. Relax for a minute, and I’ll call my boss.”
Cherry sat down on the sofa for a full five seconds before she stood back up and began pacing. Normally someone pacing bothers me, but since there were so many interesting things about her to watch as she paced, I let it slide.
I got Neal in his car and filled him in about the latest message. He told me he’d get back to me as soon as he knew anything.
After I hung up with Neal, an idea came into my head, and I said to Cherry, “You know, maybe we could have you do an interview with CNN, and just casually mention that your computer died and you’re offline now. Maybe add that you’re tired of it too, whatever. CNN’s home base is here in Atlanta, and they could do an interview in a heartbeat. Really get the word out there and hopefully, stop this computer messaging. And killing.”
She stopped pacing, and said with a distracted tone, “I’m willing to try anything at this point.”
“I know what you mean.”
She went back to pacing, this time mumbling to herself. I couldn’t make out what she was saying, but I heard the words “killer” and “murder.”
Wanting to keep her mind occupied with something other than the stalker, I asked, “Cherry, could you do me a favor and go online and find out if the media has caught wind of what’s happening to you? Is it possible to do that without losing the message?”
Laughing softly, she said, “You really are a babe in the woods when it comes to computers, aren’t you, Cooper?”
“I tried to warn you.”
She walked over and sat down in front of the laptop again. After staring at the screen for a moment, she looked up and caught me standing by the table, gazing at the leftover food.
“Cooper, have you had your supper yet?”
“As a matter of fact, I haven’t, but I’ve had my eye on that steak ever since I walked in. You gonna finish it?”
“Oh, no, we can do better than that. Wouldn’t you prefer to order something else from room service?”
I said, “As a police chief, I know that wasting food is a crime. Besides, who knows how long it might take to get another order up here. Seriously, is it okay if I finish it?”
“Well, if you really want it, be my guest. I wasn’t much in the mood to eat after I saw the latest message. There’s tea in the pot, and—hey, I just realized there’s not a bed for you. I’ll call down and have them send one up.”
“Don’t go to any trouble on my account. I can sleep on the sofa. It’s no big deal.”
She gave me a look that said, “Don’t make me hurt you.” I said, “Okay, okay. Sheesh, what a grouch.”
Smiling, she reached for the phone and ordered a bed. I ate the steak down to the bone, put the cold eggs and ketchup on a roll, and devoured them, too. I washed it all down with a cup of warm tea, which was better than I thought it would be. In fact, it was pretty tasty.
The bed soon arrived and I asked them to set it up near the window; I like to have the sunshine coming in on me while I try to wake up in the morning.
When we were alone again, Cherry asked: “Cooper, what do you know about this ‘B-a-a-l’ person? Have you any idea what all that means?”
“First of all, I think it’s pronounced ‘Bail’—at least, Southerners pronounce it that way—but I’ve heard other pronunciations too. Other than that, I don’t remember much about him. You’ve got the computer. Look him up.”
“Will do.”
She tapped the keys for a moment, and said, “Right. Here he is. It says that Baal was a god that was worshipped by the ancient Israelites. Jezebel introduced him to the Israelites after she married Ahab and became their queen.”
Because of her age, I wasn’t sure if she knew who Jezebel was, so I asked, “Are you familiar with Jezebel?”
Cherry pushed her hair back from her face and said, “Yes, I know what she represents. Do you think Jezebel has something to do with all this? I mean, could this person see me as a Jezebel?”
“Whoever is doing this is probably not much of a thinker. I think.”
“Well, while you’re thinking, do you think this person wants to sacrifice me for real? Or is it just some sick game?”
“It’s sick no matter what they want. They may just be trying to scare you with the ‘sacrifice’ bit—as if the threats weren’t enough—but typically, these creeps are harmless. They usually just want attention, but it’s obvious that we have a real killer on our hands. I don’t believe the Baal stuff is real, though; sounds phony to me. I’m in the dark about a lot of what’s happening, but one thing I do know: we’re gonna find whoever’s doin’ this, I promise you that. Another thing I can promise is that you’re in good hands with the FBI. Not to mention me.”
I gave her my best reassuring smile, and she said, “You know what? I believe you.”
I said, “Good. You should. But as I said, and proved, I know very little about the Web and computers. My—one of my officers showed me how to Google when I got back from a case in New Orleans last year, but that’s about the extent of my knowledge. The case got a pretty good amount of media coverage. I was famous for a week or two. Put in ‘Samuel Cooper police chief Gulf Front Florida’ and see what you get.”
She said, “‘Cooper’ is such a good, solid, English name. Do you know much about your family history?”
“I hardly know anything at all about it, but I assume there were a few barrel makers climbin’ around in my family tree.”
“Mmm, I suppose so,” she replied, now occupied with the computer again. After a moment of typing on the keyboard, she said, “Hey, you’re still here. Six hits out of ten on
the first page are about you. The others are about some confederate general bloke.”
“See? I was famous for a while. Now. Look for any news about your stalker.”
Cherry said, “But I want to read all about your exploits.”
“There’ll be plenty of time for that. Now, let’s get back on track here. Find out if the media is aware of your ‘situation.’”
“Okay, whatever you say, Chief. But I’m going to check up on your recent history the first chance I get.”
She searched the Internet for a while, and found nothing to indicate that the media was aware of the situation. I knew it wouldn’t be long before the news got out, but we had at least one more night before all hell broke loose.
And I do mean “hell.”
8
After three solid hours of applying makeup and putting different wigs on, there was still no resemblance to Cherry Page whatsoever. You’d think there would be at least some minor similarity, but it was clearly hopeless. The finished look was more like a demented caricature than a twin.
The tiny dressing room was so damned hot with all those lights around the mirror, and sweating like a pig was not helping the situation. In fact, it was ruining any chance for inspiration. Not to mention having to wear the surgical gloves.
So, with a mighty heave, the makeup tray crashed against the wall, spilling its contents on the blood-covered floor. Lipsticks, mascara, brushes, powders; they were all useless!
One by one, the lights surrounding the mirror became dark, as they were smashed with the heel of the Manolo Blahnik open-toe pump. The exact model of the ridiculously expensive shoe that the fabulous Cherry Page had worn in her last film. The model that was supposedly her favorite shoe of all time; whether it was her favorite or not, it made an excellent hammer, popping the lightbulbs easily and completely.
As each bulb exploded, the room darkened a little bit more. That made it easier to bear looking at the face that had failed so miserably to achieve the famous “Cherry Page Look.” The look that was known all around the globe. The look belonging to one of the most beautiful women who has ever lived. The look that was not happening.
If only she had taken the time to listen.
9
THE SHRILL RINGING WOKE ME AT 6 A.M. AFTER THREE RINGS, I GOT UP in all my naked glory and answered the living-room phone. Cherry hadn’t answered because she was in the shower, as I could tell by the sound of water coming from the bathroom. I thanked the lady desk clerk for the wake-up call, and got back in bed.
A knock at the door made me grab my bedspread to cover myself as I answered it. A cute little brunette stood in the hall with a bellman and a breakfast cart for three. He set it up on the dining table as Sally Allen introduced herself to me. She was all business, with her hair in a bun and designer glasses. She opened her slim black briefcase and tipped the bellman, as she’d probably done a thousand times before.
When he left, I said, “Excuse my attire, but it beats meeting me in my birthday suit.”
“I’m not so sure that’s true,” Sally said with a smile. “I’ll call down and have a robe sent up for you immediately.”
She made the call, and we both sat down to breakfast. Me in my bedspread, Sally in her black business suit.
She said, “How was your flight, Chief Cooper?”
“I think memorable is the word, Sally, and please call me Coop.”
“And how did you sleep—Coop?”
“I slept like a log. How ’bout you?”
“I was tossing and turning all night, so worried about Cherry and this madman. Please don’t tell her though, she’ll only fret needlessly.”
“You’re secret’s safe with me,” I said, reaching for a croissant. “I don’t want to worry her either. She’s got enough on her plate, what with the movie and this jerk playin’ games.”
“Well, she likes you, Coop, told me so herself not fifteen minutes ago. I’m so glad that you were the one chosen to watch over her.”
“Me, too. I can assure you that she’ll be just fine until we catch this guy.”
Sally said, “After speaking with Mr. Feagin and the FBI, and meeting you, I’m confident of that,” and joined me in buttering a croissant. She poured herself a cup of tea, and asked, “Coffee?” I nodded as I chewed, and she poured me a cup.
She said, “So sorry about the sleeping arrangements, but the FBI were adamant about it. We could rent two suites that connect by a common door, but then there would be two ways in, as opposed to having just the one this way. I hope you’re all right with that.”
“I’m fine with it. It’s safer with just one door, and I slept comfortably through the night on the bed they provided.” I took a sip of coffee, and said, “What’s this I hear about a bulletproof car?”
She said, “The car—a Bentley—is out back behind the hotel, near the loading dock. They’ve graciously allowed us to keep it parked there, so you and Cherry can get in and out without alerting her fans, hopefully. It’s good luck them letting you park there, because the employee parking lot is down the hill a bit, and underground, sort of. Looks like it could be quite spooky late at night. Oh, before I forget, here are the keys.”
Taking them from her, I said, “Thanks, Sally, especially for the parking arrangement.”
“My pleasure.”
We ate in silence for a moment, and then the sound of the shower stopped. Sally excused herself, and went into the bedroom. I heard some hushed talk and giggling, but who knows what it was about. I just hoped they weren’t making fun of the Yank.
A knock at the door signaled the arrival of my robe. After thanking the bellman, I closed the door, dropped the bedspread and put the robe on quickly. Not a second too soon, as Cherry and Sally came in at just that moment.
Cherry was barefoot and in her robe, too, and her wet hair was down in big curls around her shoulders. She looked as good without her makeup as she did with it, I thought. And the legs weren’t too shabby, either. In fact, I was staring at them as I tied my robe shut.
“Oh, dash it all, Sally, we’ve missed the show,” Cherry said, which brought more giggles.
“How old are you people?” I asked in my mockest fatherly tone.
Yet more giggles, then Cherry said, “Shower’s all yours, Cooper.” To Sally, “I’m completely famished. Let’s tuck in.”
With that said, they both sat down and started filling their plates with eggs, sausages and tomatoes.
Cherry said, “What a lovely fry-up, Sal. Just what the doctor ordered. Thanks for getting my tea, you darling girl.”
“Just doing my job,” Sally replied.
They started eating, so I threw the spread on the bed, grabbed some jeans, clean boxers, and a tee shirt from my suitcase, and headed for the shower. The condition of the bedroom surprised me more than a little bit; Cherry’s bed was made, and all her clothes were put away. I knew for a fact that no maid had been in there to clean up yet. I thought, This one’s okay for a pampered movie star.
When I was finished showering, I dressed and came back to the table. There was still plenty of food, and I filled my plate. Sally poured more coffee for me, and said, “Coop, I was just reminding Cherry you’re to be at the Candler Community Theater by eight o’clock. It’s located in a section of town known as Little Five Points. From what I understand, it’s a small Bohemian community, lots of art and music. I’ve printed directions and phone numbers, so you should have no trouble. I’m quite sure—or, I assume—there’s a directional system in the Bentley, as well. There are also some brochures on the coffee table—local food delivery, shopping, that sort of thing. I always make sure whenever we travel to have local places to go, and—hmm, that’s not such a good idea now, is it? Right. Well, anyway, I must handle some errands, and meet with some very boring people. Call me if you need anything a’tall, Coop.”
She stood, kissed the top of Cherry’s wet head, and smiled at me as she walked over to and out the door.
I checked the directions,
and saw that Sally was obviously very good at her job. The directions were a computer printout, with every turn designated, along with the mileage between each one. There were also phone numbers for everyone in town from the looks of it.
Cherry said, “The studio has rented the theater so we can have a few days of rehearsal before we begin filming.”
“Oh, okay. That makes sense. I’m interested to see how the process works. Do you always rehearse before you start to film?”
“It depends on the director. A few like to just go out and start banging away, but that’s rare. Our director, Chuck Guinness, likes to have all his ducks in a row before shooting. He’s very much like Hitchcock in that way.”
I said, “I’ll start my acting career right now, and act like I know what you’re talkin’ about.”
She smiled, took a drink of her tea, and said, “I’ll bore you with the facts concerning Hitchcock when we’re not in such a bind timewise. I have a feeling we’re going to be spending a lot of long days and nights together, and we shall have need of subjects for conversation.”
“You’re the boss.”
She looked me over, and said, “Oh, am I now? Hmmm. I know only a very little bit about you, Cooper, but one thing is obvious: your acting skills are impeccable.”
We made our way down to the back of the Ritz in the service elevator, and as we were almost to the loading dock, I realized I’d left my wallet in the suite. I leave my apartment back home without my wallet at least once a week, if not more—must be old age setting in.
I said, “I forgot my wallet. Be right back.”
“I’ll go with you,” Cherry said.
She looked nervous, so I touched her arm and said, “No need.” I stuck my head in the door of the small security office, and motioned to a big black guy whose name tag identified him as Lewis. One of several people hired on as extra security, he was armed and looked plenty dangerous. He came out and I left Cherry in his charge; Lewis was more than happy to watch her, and I knew she was in good hands.
I took the service elevator up, retrieved my wallet, and stepped back into the hall. A few doors down, I saw a pretty, plump brunette dressed in a businesslike gray suit. She was wearing small earphones and dancing wildly to music only she could hear. Humping and pumping to the beat, she put her key-card in the door, then stopped immediately when she turned and noticed me watching. Embarrassed, she smiled, shrugged her shoulders, and slipped into her room. I made it back down to the security office in a matter of minutes, and after Cherry finished signing autographs, we left and got in the Bentley.
