The Cherry Pages

by Gary Ruffin

  Carver smiled, and said, “No, I don’t think I’ll bet on anything about this case.”

  Riley said, “They also found some stuff that proves Tingle was actually serious about this ‘Baal’ business. It’s definitely not just a smokescreen. And, get this. It appears that Miss Cherry Page is a virgin. A virgin. You believin’ that?”

  Carver let out a long whistle, and said, “That’s pretty personal stuff. Not for public consumption, certainly. Back to Giles. He knows somebody? Somebody involved in the case?”

  “Oh, yeah. Giles recognized Tingle from a photograph found in Tingle’s house. Giles remembered where he’d seen him before.”

  “Where?”

  “Giles was one of the agents working security at that charity benefit the other night—the one at the High Museum downtown—where Cherry Page gave a speech, remember?”

  Carver nodded.

  “Well, Giles saw Tingle at the benefit, even noticed him talking to Miss Page and her bodyguard. J.G. remembered it all because Tingle was the only guy there dressed like a cowboy.”

  Carver started to speak, but Riley interrupted, “Yes, Giles is working on getting the surveillance tapes from the museum for a positive ID.”

  Carver smiled and said, “You may actually make it in this FBI business someday, Riley.”

  Riley returned the smile, pointed at the small Japanese man, and said, “Tough break for Nakamura. Tingle got him with his knife before dying himself from the bullet wound. From the bloody prints on the keyboard and what’s written on the computer, Tingle was trying to finish his message to Cherry Page when he collapsed. Gotta give ’im credit—he was giving it the old college try right up to the end. The way it played out, Tingle was close to Nakamura when Nakamura shot him. Tingle was moving to stab him, and was able to put the knife in Nakamura. Then, the gut-shot cowboy goes back over to the computer to try and finish his message. That’s what the blood trail on the floor says anyway.”

  Carver didn’t say anything for a moment as he looked back and forth from one corpse to the other. Riley asked, “What’s on your mind?”

  Carver replied, “As you may have noticed, I’m losing touch. I really missed the ball this time. Ten years ago, I woulda had my guys at the High Museum, and we woulda nailed this sonofabitch Tingle before anyone else got killed. Tingle was ripe for the picking. He was right there. I don’t know—I mean—there was some talk about these murders being done by a group, or maybe even a female. This has all been such a clusterfuck, and I’ve been—anyway, it’s clear I was lost from the get-go.”

  Riley felt sympathy for his colleague and quickly said, “Well, I don’t know about that, John. But as soon as the lab makes all this official, I’m buying the drinks.”

  Carver stared at Tingle’s corpse for a long moment, and then said, “From now on, I’m going to just let the profilers do their work. It’s not like the old days, that’s for sure. I mean, DNA wasn’t even a theory when I started.”

  “Hell, John, when you started, there weren’t even fingerprints.”

  “Forget what I said earlier about your career. From now on, you’re assigned to permanent latrine duty at Quantico.”

  Riley asked, “Wanna see the computer? The message is ironic as hell.”

  “Sure, lead the way.”

  They walked over to the desk and Riley touched the mouse with a pen to wake it from sleep mode. There on the screen was the last message to Cherry Page from William J. Tingle, the Computer Killer:

  This will be the last time I speak. Look for me, and you will see me. You will sikljnoaiq1

  Riley said, “See? Tingle was dying as he tried to type, didn’t even get a chance to finish his last sentence, just dropped dead. And look at the two lines I’m talking about: ‘This will be the last time I speak.’ ‘Look for me, and you will see me.’ He got both right. He sure as hell won’t be doing any more speaking, and everybody will be seeing this prick all over the news for the next week, if not longer.”

  Carver smirked, and said, “I just feel so sorry for poor old Baal. He won’t be getting his slice of Cherry pie after all.”

  71

  AFTER A LONG NIGHT SPENT WIDE AWAKE, I GOT THE CALL FROM NEAL about what had happened at Hideki Nakamura’s cabin. It was around two Saturday afternoon, and Susan was doing laundry and cleaning the kitchen. The Feagin girls had Cherry upstairs and were brushing her hair, getting makeup tips, and more girlie stuff. I was sitting on the living-room sofa watching a show about orangutans in Borneo.

  Susan answered the ringing kitchen phone, assured Neal we were all still breathing, and told me to pick up the phone by the sofa. I said, “Hey. Everything okay in Texas?”

  “As okay as it can be, seein’ as I just got back from visiting the body of a man who’s much too young to be dead. But that’s not why I called.”

  “All right, then. Why did you call?”

  “Well, bud—you sittin’ down?”

  “As a matter of fact, I am. And don’t tell me anything that will ruin my day, understand?”

  Neal said, “Man, are you ever off base. I’ve got news that’ll make your day, and several other people’s day as well. I’m talkin’ good news, old bud-of-mine.”

  “Well?”

  “You sittin’ down?”

  “Look, Feagin, P.I., we’ve already established my position. Are you gonna tell me this good news, or do I have to come out there and kick your bad ankle?”

  “Agent Carver called.” He paused.

  “And?”

  “And … they got the Computer Killer.”

  My mind went blank for a few seconds. Then I wanted to let out a whoop, but I restrained myself, and asked quietly, “You wouldn’t kid your old bud, wouldja?”

  “Serious, man. The guy’s name is—was—William Tingle, and keep this to yourself. He was at that charity event you escorted Cherry to last Monday night. She even talked to the guy.”

  “She talked to the guy? You gotta be kiddin’.”

  “Nope. No joke. One of the agents remembers seeing him talking to Cherry and you. Did you notice a cowboy at the event? Supposed to have been the only one.”

  I went back to the previous Monday night at the High Museum in my mind, and there he was: asking Cherry if she liked country line dancing, and talking about dancing that night, and breakfast in the morning. “I remember him. Me and Cherry laughed about him and all the others who hit on her. Damn, man, this is a little spooky, knowing we looked that bastard straight in the eye.”

  Neal said, “He’s dead as a hammer now, so don’t give ’im another thought. He was found not too far from y’all actually. No more than five or ten miles from my front door. Let’s not tell any of the girls.”

  “That will never happen, bud. I plan to keep all of this as far away from Cherry as possible, and I know you intend to do the same with Susan and the girls. They’ll find out soon enough. Just give me a quick rundown.”

  Neal told me what he knew, about the crime scene at the cabin, and what Agent Giles had found in Tingle’s house, the computer stuff, newspaper and tabloids, the whole nine yards. And what a whole nine yards they were.

  After a minute or so, I said, “Whoa. That’s enough for now. Wow. Let me process this for a day or two. I’m shaking a little, I’m so happy and keyed up at the same time. You can finish giving me all the details later.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yeah. You and me will have a nice long talk about all this when things get back to normal. I don’t wanna ruin the moment by hearing all the gory details. That will come, and too soon. Man. I’m at a loss for words, bud.” I took a deep breath, exhaled, and asked, “So, you wanna talk to Susan?”

  “Naw, you deserve to tell everybody the good news. After all, you’re the one who had his ass on the line all week.”

  “Okay, thanks, but I didn’t do anything you wouldn’t have done if you could walk, you huge gimp,” I said.

  “Whatever you say, twinkle toes. But I owe you one for takin’ ca
re of my girls. Big-time.”

  “You don’t owe me a thing. Let’s change the subject. If that’s even possible. Whew, this is too much.” Another couple of deep breaths, then I said, “Okay, I can breathe again. Now—listen to me—Joe Don was doing what he wanted to do and I hope you’re not feeling like you were responsible. Anyway, I’m sorry you have to go through all that funeral stuff.”

  “It’s okay. Compared to what the Kendricks are going through, not to mention Joe Don himself, this wasn’t much for me to do. I’ve made peace with what happened. His parents have been really nice. They said basically the same thing you just did. The kid wanted to be a private eye real bad, and it wasn’t my fault, and they don’t blame me for a minute.” He sighed deeply, and said, “I just hope the funeral turns out to be beautiful, not like last year in New Orleans. I’m sure there are a whole lot of friends and family in Bandera to send him off. Still …”

  “‘Still’ nothin’. His parents are right. There was nothing you could have done, and you know it. You’re doing all you can, you’re paying your respects. Now, shut up and get back home as fast as you can.”

  We said our good-byes and hung up, I called to Cherry and the girls to come downstairs, and then I told Susan to come into the living room.

  When I had them all in a group, I smiled my biggest smile, and said, “Ladies, I have something to tell y’all.”

  When I told them the news, the screaming, crying, laughing, hugging, and general pandemonium went on for a good five minutes. The sense of relief I felt was tremendous, and there was a good deal of pride mixed in among the happiness, too. Cherry was doing her best to keep it together, and I was once again glad that she’s an actress. She gave another wonderful performance, but I wouldn’t have been surprised if she had collapsed into a fetal ball on the floor. As had happened before, I underestimated her; her demeanor made me very proud.

  After it all finally died down, we turned on the news and watched as every local station and news channel told the tale of how the Computer Killer had been found dead at his final crime scene, and how wonderful it was, and all that good stuff. Atlanta policemen and -women were interviewed, and we saw several people me and Cherry knew, including Sergeant Traylor and other members of the task force. After twenty minutes of watching it all unfold, Susan asked me what my plans were, and it hit me like a cold glass of water to the face: it was time for me to go home.

  I thought for a moment, and said, “Well, I guess I better call the airport and see about makin’ a reservation for tonight. If there’s a flight, I can be home for a late supper.”

  All the Feagin females looked at Cherry, and she said, “A reservation? You shan’t have need of a commercial airline; you’re a star now, remember? Let me call Sally for you, Cooper. She can take care of everything, and you can surely be home for that late supper. Would that be all right?”

  “That would be great, if you’re sure she wouldn’t mind.”

  “I’m absolutely sure. You know how much Sally likes you. She’d be very cross with us both if we didn’t let her take care of you one final time. I’ll call her right this minute.”

  She walked over to the kitchen phone, and me and the Feagin women all took seats on the big sectional.

  Jill said with a mischievous grin, “Uncle Coop, who is this ‘Sally’ person, and what have you been doin’ with her? She takes ‘care’ of you? Hmmm?”

  This caused the other girls and Susan to tease me about Sally, and I took it like a man, as if I had a choice. Thankfully, her daughters being there kept Susan from giving me another lecture about my relationships with women other than Penny.

  After a few minutes spent defending myself, I saw Cherry hang up the phone. She came in the living room, sat down next to me on the sofa, and said, “Sally is very sorry, but the best she can do is have you on a flight for tomorrow evening at eight thirty.”

  This caused the Feagin girls to squeal, and caused Susan to give me a look that said, “You’d better behave yourself until you’re on that plane, buster.” It also caused me to relax and settle back on the sofa, finally able to unwind after constantly being on pins and needles for the last several days.

  Susan stood, and said, “Well, since no one’s leavin’ tonight, what do y’all want for supper?”

  Everyone looked to Cherry, since she was the guest, and she took a moment before saying, “I hope that you all don’t take this the wrong way—any of you. But I would really like to go back to the Ritz and have a long steam in the gym, and a quiet supper in the suite. Would you all hate me if I did that?”

  There was silence for a few seconds, and then Susan said graciously, “Of course we won’t hate you, will we, girls? We completely understand you wantin’ to do that. After all you’ve been through? As much as we’ll miss you both, we understand, don’t we, girls?”

  For a moment, the three girls looked like they didn’t understand, and that they wanted Cherry to move in with them and stay forever, and that the last thing on Earth they wanted was for Cherry to leave. But they recovered quickly and said of course they understood, and whatever was best for Cherry was best for them, and they all gave her a group hug and she hugged them back, the four of them smiling and laughing and hugging in a pile on the big sofa.

  This gave Susan another chance to shoot me a look, and I gave her a “What?” expression, all the while secretly glad that Cherry and I would be spending one more night together. I had to go get my stuff, didn’t I? Besides, how often in a man’s life does he get to spend time with an international movie star in a suite at the Ritz, for cryin’ out loud?

  That was the moment I finally admitted to myself that I needed to deal with the mixed feelings I was having about Cherry Page. On one hand, I felt great that Cherry was no longer in danger of her life. Not to mention Penny, and Neal and his family. Also not to mention me. It was a fantastic feeling to know that the FBI had captured the sick, dead bastard, but on the other hand, there was also the feeling of not wanting my new life with Cherry to end.

  By that, I mean, what if I took Cherry up on her offer to become her permanent bodyguard and travel the world with her? Would a life with her be better than the one I have? Should I stay on with her, or go back home? It was a pretty big decision, and I only had a little over twenty-four hours to figure it all out, and decide how to proceed.

  There was my life in Gulf Front to consider: I live in a little piece of heaven; I have a job I love; I have an incredible relationship with my incredible girlfriend about half the time; I’m surrounded by a terrific group of friends; I even have a really cool dog. But, does all that compare to the high life I could live with Miss Cherry Page?

  I couldn’t believe I was even thinking about all that stuff, but there I was, thinking it. It’s not easy being a forty-five-year-old man with the maturity level of a twelve-year-old boy.

  It came down to this: we knew who had been trying to kill Cherry, so the big mystery was solved.

  But that left me with a new mystery to solve.

  What the hell was I going to do with Cherry Page?

  Part Four Hollywood Ending

  72

  WHILE CHERRY GOT HER STUFF AND SAID GOOD-BYE TO THE FEAGIN women, I called Penny and told her the good news, and that I would be coming home the next night. Whatever I decided to do about the rest of my life, I would have to go home to Gulf Front and face Penny. She was ecstatic, naturally, about the news of the killer’s death, and even shed a tear or two, something that she doesn’t do very often. I felt bad about not telling her what I was thinking, but then again, I didn’t really know what I was thinking. When Cherry was ready to go, I gave her the phone so she could talk to Penny while I got my stuff together.

  Ten minutes later, Cherry and I said our long good-byes to the Feagins and went outside. After a quick talk with the agents who were guarding the house, and securing their promise that they would stay until Neal got home, we got in Neal’s car.

  Since we were technically still missing,
I gave Cherry my cap and she put her hair up again and wore her shades so no one would spot her in the afternoon traffic. Twenty minutes later, we made it to Highway 400 and headed towards Buckhead.

  I decided not to turn on the radio, and Cherry didn’t object. After we had driven in silence for a while, Cherry leaned over, gave me a lingering kiss on the side of my mouth, and giggled as I tried to remain calm and drive.

  “What was that for?” I asked.

  “That’s for being my hero.”

  “Oh. Okay. I just don’t want you takin’ advantage.”

  “There will be plenty of time for that,” Cherry said. She looked straight ahead at the road, and continued, “Seriously, Cooper, I don’t think I can express how grateful I am for all you’ve done. I’ve had to thank someone once before, for saving my life—Poppy—but never like this. So much danger, so much anxiety, for such an extended period of time. I’m at a loss. I need a screenwriter, at once.”

  “Cherry. I didn’t save your life, or get your stalker. I was just hangin’ around, ready to take a bullet, or a knife, or a hand grenade, or a bazooka, or whatever, for you, with no thought whatsoever for my personal safety. No big deal. I’m just a plain, truly heroic figure of biblical proportions, a simple man whose name shall live forever in the anals, I mean annals, of, um, time, and stuff like that. Really. You’re embarrassing me here.”

  Groaning, Cherry said, “Did I say I was grateful? I meant to say, I’m queasy. Sorry I misspoke.” She gave me another one of her girl punches to my arm, and said, “Thanks anyway, Cooper. I mean it.”

  “I know you do, and, you’re welcome.”

  We drove in silence again for a while, until we hit a stall in the highway traffic, and moved only a half mile in the next fifteen minutes. I expected her to bring up the subject of my intentions, as in, what were they, and what was I going to do about taking her up on her offer to stay on as her bodyguard, and all that, but she surprised me one more time.