| Subject: Empty Reflections Part One |
Author:
Karen
|
[
Next Thread |
Previous Thread |
Next Message |
Previous Message
]
Date Posted: 12:23:17 08/07/08 Thu
In reply to:
Karen
's message, "Empty Reflections-Prologue" on 14:52:42 08/05/08 Tue
A/N: Okay here’s the part where you get to find out how Harm and Mac fit into these peoples lives. As we go along, I’ll be telling you more about the adversaries. To quote someone we all know and love ‘its complicated’.
Thanks to everyone for your warm comments. I hope the story continues to interest you all.
I want to thank my friend TxJAG_b for his unwavering support and Janlaw for all the military stuff where she keeps me straight.
.
Empty Reflections
Part One
Chesapeake Grand Hotel
Baltimore MD
August 2004
Thursday 0710
“What the devil is all that about?” Harm asked irritably as he joined Mac and Sheriff Ben Farraday for breakfast. A last minute phone call from his boss, Secretary Sheffield, had delayed him.
They were in Baltimore for a combined law enforcement conference that included members of both the civilian and the military police and legal communities. He waved his hand, referring to the uproar visible through the restaurant door. He’d had to fight his way across the hotel lobby past several women who seemed to think he was someone else. Whatever was happening, the hotel had apparently hired a private security firm to handle it or he never would have made it through.
“Probably that movie star,” Ben grumbled acidly into his morning coffee.
Though he didn’t swear, the qualifier was evident in his voice, a reaction that was completely unlike Ben. Even early in the morning he was normally sanguine. The prickly response startled Mac. Knowing it was in direct opposition to his basic character, she searched his disgusted countenance for a reason.
They had worked closely on a case early last spring and she’d become quite familiar with his temperament. Several times, she’d drawn on his vast law enforcement knowledge, as they’d collaborated on their hunt for a vicious killer.
“What’s wrong, Ben? What movie star?” She tried not to sound too personally concerned. Harm still harbored a smidgeon of jealousy with regard to the relationship between his wife and the good-looking Sheriff from Hampton Roads.
“I’m fine,” he replied with forced cheerfulness.
“What movie star?” This artificial turnabout caused her apprehension to deepen.
Ben’s focus was lost for a fraction of a second in the anxious depths of her eyes. He quickly broke the contact, allowing his gaze to travel furtively across the crowded restaurant, as he considered his feelings for her. Quite simply he loved Mac. Not as he loved his wife, Patti, of course, but as a friend and comrade in arms. She was smart, determined, beautiful, and she was all Marine. On the case they’d worked in February, he’d had to kill a man with his bare hands to save her. It was the first time he’d done that since he’d left the SEALS. There was no way he could maintain a bad mood around her.
“What movie star?” she repeated.
“The one from that international TV show S.P.I.E. They blew in Tuesday night.”
“Spy! Never heard of it,” Harm snorted. He dismissed the information and buried his head in the menu.
“Not Spy, S-P-I-E. It stands for Security, Protection, Intelligence, and Elimination.”
“Never heard of it.” Harm still withheld his interest. Truthfully, he simply resented Ben knowing something he wasn’t aware of, and he didn’t like the look of curiosity on Mac’s face.
“Why is he here?” she asked, shooting a mildly reproachful look toward Harm’s deliberate rudeness. “And I already ordered for you,” she told him, gently dismissing Harm’s retreat into the menu.
Ben controlled a smile, then replied, “Some sort of fan party, also they’re filming the action scenes for their season finale over on the Eastern Shore. Last year they filmed an episode in Las Vegas and it was apparently a big hit, so they decided to end the year in America to boost their ratings further”
“Are you a fan of the show?” Mac asked mostly to forestall another impolite comment from Harm, but also to cover undue interest of her own.
“Not me,” Ben declared, then added peevishly. “But my wife is crazy about it. She shares every last detail with me. Ever seen it?”
“I’ve watched an episode or two,” Mac admitted casually.
“I didn’t know you watched that kind of stuff,” was Harm’s surprised comment.
“Oh, it was way before we were together. When I didn’t have anything interesting to do at night,” she flirted with her grumpy husband.
Ben chucked softly at her comment, and even Harm cracked a small smile. He knew he had nothing to worry about, he obviously had her heart, but Ben’s presence always elevated his possessive instincts. He’d probably catch hell from Mac later. She didn’t have a lot of patience with this particular attitude.
“Actually, I’m surprised you never heard of it, Harm. The guy who stars in the show is a dead ringer for you. I have to wonder why none of your co-workers ever brought it to your attention.” Ben enjoyed the cat and mouse game he and Harm always played.
“You’ve got to be kidding,” Harm responded in disbelief. “Is that the truth?” Harm turned to Mac.
“Oh, I wouldn’t say a dead ringer, more of a passing resemblance,” she waffled. She’d never admit, even under torture, that she’d watched the show specifically because the star looked exactly like Harm. It had been during that dark time when she’d thought Harm was lost to her.
“Uhn uh.” Ben shook his head. “Dead ringer. The first time I saw him I almost choked on my beer,” he laughed.
“So why didn’t you mention this when we worked together in January?” Harm raised his eyebrow.
“I’d never seen the show then,” Ben drawled in his soft Virginia accent, bringing the small confrontation back into perspective. “My wife was working nights, and she taped it. She’d watch it during the day when I was at work. A few months ago she was transferred to day shift, so I’ve seen it several times since then.”
“How long has it been on the air?” Harm tried to keep his interest casual.
“Five years, I think, but the first year it wasn’t shown in the states. It’s the brainchild of a small British production company working out of Australia. The premise of the show is a team of international…well, I’d call them hired guns…vigilantes,” his voice dripped scorn, “anyway the name says it all. They hire themselves out to corporations, small governments, and wealthy people, anyone who needs their kind of help and can afford the bill. It’s a little short on legal ethics, but they try to make it look like the guy hiring them is in the right and this is his last resort, that sort of thing. Apparently the star is a whiz at accents and languages so they incorporate a lot of undercover stuff into the storylines.”
“They travel from country to country for filming, with only a small core crew and two recurring stars. The idea is to keep costs down by hiring the extra help and actors wherever they film. Somehow, the show caught on and the demand for broadcast in America escalated. Even though it runs as an off-season replacement series on a cable channel, filming in Vegas last year put it in the top twenty in overall ratings. Women are crazy about the star, and men watch for his sexy little sidekick who is only referred to as Number Two. Everyone apparently responds to the complicated action plots.”
“For someone who doesn’t like the show, you sure know a lot about it,” Harm commented suspiciously.
“Like I said, my wife’s a fan,” Ben equivocated.
“And?” Harm demanded. What was Ben Farraday not telling them?
The two men eyed each other for a moment, each in turn putting their alpha foot down harder.
“Ben?” Mac broke the stalemate. “Is there something important we should know?”
Looking at her with the same soft expression he’d reserved for her since they’d first met, he answered. “I sure hope not, little lady…but…”
“But what?” she urged.
Motioning for them to lean closer, he confided. “I surely do hope nothing comes of this, but when they filmed in Las Vegas last year there was a suspicious death. A local…uh…’dancer’ was found drowned in one of the decorative pools that feeds the hotel’s waterfall feature. The last time anyone saw her she was dancing very closely and very suggestively with Michael Morgan.”
“Who’s Michael Morgan?” Harm asked.
“The star,” Mac supplied quickly. “Go on, Ben.”
“A few minutes later, the security cameras showed her near the only elevator that accesses the top five floors. That’s where they have the high-end suites and the executive banquet hall.
“So which floor did she get off?” Mac questioned.
“They can’t tell. Morgan’s suite was located two levels above the pond where they found her body. The pond is on a patio outside the executive banquet hall. Those Vegas hotels have cameras all over the place, but to insure guest privacy they don’t point at the doors to any of the suites. There was no way to tell which of the floors she got off or which room she entered. It’s even possible she exited on the banquet floor, although the elevator door is supposed to be secured on that level, when the room isn’t in use.”
“So they didn’t see her get on or off anywhere? There must be some way to identify the floor, aren’t there cameras inside the elevators?” Mac persisted.
“Nope, not inside the elevators either. Guest privacy again, and in low risk areas like lobbies and banquet halls the cameras are fed to a multiplex setup that only records an image every one, two, or five seconds. It’s pretty amazing how fast a human can move in a second even if they aren’t trying to. The camera caught her near the elevator on the first floor then she just disappeared. With the banquet room closed all the lights were turned off. The ambient light was extremely low. There was some movement on the tape but nothing they could identify. Next morning she was found floating in the pool. They thought she might have fallen or been pushed from a window or balcony above, but she had a load of barbiturates and alcohol in her system. She may have just staggered into the pool on her own.”
“Wouldn’t there have been evidence of a fall? Bruising or some sign of a struggle if she was pushed from a window?” Mac’s investigative juices were flowing.
“Not necessarily. She had that party cocktail in her system. The bruising was slight and might have come from struggling with an assailant if she was pushed into the pond. However, if she was staggering on the edge of consciousness and fell on her own, it could have come from the turbulent water banging her into the side of the pool. The water feature is a signature of this particular hotel. The decorative ponds are pretty deep and the water is moved by heavy pumps so they can get the maximum power into the falls.”
“Then it could have just been an accident,” Harm reasoned. “Or even been done by someone not connected with the show.”
“It could have been,” Ben, allowed. “Except something similar has happened three other times, in other countries.”
“Are you saying you think he’s a serial killer?” Mac whispered harshly.
“Not saying anything, just hoping nothing happens while we’re staying here. I understand there’s another big fan shindig here tomorrow evening. It’s the last day of production for the year. That’s when every one of these deaths has happened except the one in Vegas. That was a special little party so their high rollers could rub elbows with celebrities.”
“Good lord,” Mac exclaimed sitting back against the booth. She was stunned by the information. She was also uncomfortable leaning so far forward over her small but developing tummy. Rubbing a hand over her abdomen, she absently soothed the minor cramp.
“You okay?” Harm responded quickly.
“Hey, now, little lady, I didn’t upset you did I?” Once again, Ben used the pet name he’d bestowed upon her at their first meeting. Why Mac allowed it Harm couldn’t grasp, he only knew it annoyed him. Especially since she wouldn’t let him use it.
“No, Ben,” she smiled. “I guess I just have to learn to live with this for a few more months, but it’s already limiting my movement. Something I’m not used to,” she laughed to the relief of both men.
“So how do you know all this, did your wife tell you?” Harm asked, reassured that Mac was comfortable.
Ben shook his head. “She doesn’t know, at least not most of it. Crime is my business, but it’s also my hobby. When one goes unsolved, I get curious. After the death in Vegas, I played on the internet trying to find information, cross reference clues, suspects, or locations, things like that. All of a sudden, I was getting hits from all over the world, small wire service articles, local newspapers, minor tabloid publications even a few press releases from local police. There have been four deaths associated with this production company over the last five years. Filtering out for sensationalism, it’s still a bothersome pattern.”
“You used the term ‘dancer’, Ben, as though it meant something else,” Mac commented.
Ben reddened slightly. However, the fact was Mac was a Marine and a lawyer, it was unlikely this would completely shock her.
“It’s a euphemistic term they use in Vegas. Sometimes they call them ‘escorts’.”
“A hooker?” Mac raised an eyebrow.
“Yeah, but a real high priced one. She was sent in by one of the high-rollers as a joke. He told her she was a present for Morgan from ‘the boys’. She was told to make it a big show. I guess they got some kicks out of it, but reports are Morgan was very uncomfortable, and very displeased.”
“How do you know? Was all that in the papers?” Harm asked.
“I know one of the cops who worked the Vegas case. He says when these…‘whales’ is what he called them…when they come to town, they do that kind of stuff all the time. For them its part of the Vegas experience. He shared some stuff unofficially, and a few days later, I sent him my research, but they never were able to get enough to build a case. Word is getting around though. Wherever that bunch land, someone in law enforcement is alerted so they can keep an eye on them.”
“So this has been going on for five years?” Mac’s curiosity was running full out.
“Uh-huh, the first one was at the end of their first season. They were filming in Thailand. She was a member of the crew. The tabloids reported rumors of an affair between her and Morgan that entire year. They didn’t find her until several hours after the company plane took off for Australia.”
“How did she die?” Mac asked quickly.
“Uh…they couldn’t tell,” Ben hedged, not meeting her eyes.
“What do you mean couldn’t tell? An autopsy, forensic investigation…”
“They were a hundred miles into the jungle. There wasn’t a high tech lab available. The best they could do was figure she’d been dead for at least fifteen hours.”
Mac studied his face then her frown deepened. “Animals?”
“Yeah,” he agreed, ducking his head. The southern gentleman in him hadn’t wanted to create that picture for her in her condition.
“Didn’t anyone notice she wasn’t on the plane?” Harm inquired, harshly changing the subject. He didn’t think Mac needed to visualize this either.
“They noticed, but Paul Stanley, Morgan’s personal assistant, told the production manager that the young woman had found another love interest and was staying the summer to explore the relationship.”
“That seems kind of suspicious,” Mac elbowed her way back into the conversation. She could see she was going to have to keep reminding the two overprotective males that she was merely pregnant, not incapacitated.
“Now, in hindsight, yeah it does. At the time, no one questioned it. It was written off as an accident. The locals figured she just got drunk and passed out. Stanley claimed never to have seen this new lover.”
“Would he have any reason to lie?” Mac asked.
“Hard to tell, there was another tabloid report that ‘he’ was Morgan’s lover, but the studio sued and squashed that speculation. Can’t have a big action star like Michel Morgan suspected of being gay. In fact, their publicist has released numerous reports of an affair between him and his co-star, Gretchen Deerslayer. According to those reports she’s very hot tempered and very jealous of anyone she’s involved with, even though she’s hardly the model of fidelity herself.”
“So it could have been her?” Mac speculated
Anything’s possible,” Farraday shrugged.
“What did Morgan say?” Harm asked.
“Morgan says he was with Stanley all evening, most of the time with their producer Phillip Ascot hashing out plot lines for the following season. But Ascot claims to have left the party early because his newest bride had flown in to meet him for an overdue honeymoon.”
“Didn’t it go any further? Their stories are all over the place. Someone must have questioned it.” Mac sounded frustrated by the shabby investigation.
“I know how you feel,” Ben agreed. “Once I gathered all the information I was a bit frustrated myself. Apparently, a doctor from Krabi who doubles as their coroner went so far as to perform some blood tests and found barbiturates and alcohol in her system. He’s the one who declared it an accident. Case closed.”
“That Morgan?” Harm nodded out the coffee shop window as a big black limo pulled up. It was a bizarre moment. Akin to looking in a mirror and seeing yourself do something you weren’t doing. The only visible difference between them was the slightly longer hair on the actor, and a few barely noticeable years.
“Yep,” Ben responded. “Morgan must have had a little press conference out in the lobby. They’re supposed to be on their way to the eastern shore. They rented a big estate out there for today’s filming. That one’s Paul Stanley, he pointed to a small, compact figure.
The small man wore loose cargo pants and jacket with heavy dark glasses and a baseball cap pulled low over his face. Dressed all in black, Stanley appeared to use personal projection in place of size to hold back the crowds as Morgan entered the large car.
“Almost looks like a woman,” Mac mused.
Ben looked at her sharply. “Why do you say that?”
“I don’t know.” Her voice was thoughtful and hesitant. “Something about the way she…he…moves. In the service, the women wear basically the same BDU’s as men, but you soon discover it’s not difficult to tell the difference.”
“Hmmm, never thought of that. Then again maybe those rumors are true and he just has a real feminine side,” Ben shrugged, his voice laden with dark humor.
“Maybe,” Mac conceded distantly.
As the limo pulled away, their breakfast was served. The subject turned away from the deaths, and back to the conference they were attending. She sincerely agreed with Ben in hoping another murder would not occur, but a small part of Mac’s brain was picking up signals she didn’t understand. Signals that were making her skin crawl. That hidden part remained engaged on the mystery surrounding Michael Morgan.
End of part one
[
Next Thread |
Previous Thread |
Next Message |
Previous Message
]
| |
Feedback: 