| Subject: Empty Reflections Part Ten |
Author:
Karen
|
[
Next Thread |
Previous Thread |
Next Message |
Previous Message
]
Date Posted: 18:26:57 10/16/08 Thu
In reply to:
Karen
's message, "Empty Reflections-Prologue" on 14:52:42 08/05/08 Tue
A/N: Well this is it we’re coming down the home stretch now. Hope you’ve had fun. Only a bit more to go. Thanks for all your comments and support. I know its been an unusual story.
Empty Reflections
Part Ten
Chesapeake Grand Hotel
Baltimore, MD
Main lobby
August 2004
Sunday 1250
After a breakfast from room service, Harm and Mac had worked all morning sorting through the narrowed group of photographs that they’d settled on the night before. Now they were waiting in the hotel lobby for Ben and McGee to join them for a late lunch and compare what they’d found.
Just as the host approached the two of them to lead them to their table, they saw Michael Morgan hurry across the lobby toward the front desk. He hesitated for a moment, spoke to one of the desk clerks, then continued on to the elevators.
Quickly, Harm made a decision.
“Give me a set of those pictures, Mac,” he held out his hand.
“Why? What are you going to do?” Mac narrowed her eyes i suspiciously, but pulled a set of printouts from her folder.
“I’m going after him. I’ll bet anything he can identify these women.”
“I’m going with you,” she replied.
Pulling her aside he protested, “No. You stay here and meet Tim and Ben. They’ll be here any minute. I won’t be long. I can almost predict what his reaction will be. If he knows them, he’ll lie. But I think I’ll be able to tell, because he assumes his stuffy upper crust British act, sort of looks right through you when he lies. If that’s his reaction, I’ll come back down and we’ll call in the cavalry,” Harm referred to the Baltimore police.
“If he doesn’t know them his response will be simpler, more direct and dismissive. He’ll meet my eyes, be angry at the interruption, but his answer will have a different tone. If that’s the case, we’ll have to look further for our suspect, but somehow, I’m convinced that one or both of these women are involved with him. And I don’t think it’s an accident that they dress in a similar fashion. It’s deliberate, almost like a uniform.”
“Aren’t you getting a little ahead of yourself, flyboy? You make it sound like some kind of deep conspiracy.”
Harm chuckled. “Now you sound like Lieutenant Hancock, Mac. No, I actually think it ‘feels’ more like one is mimicking the other, probably the younger one. I just don’t know why. In a well-dressed crowd like that you would think they’d stand out more instead of less in those outfits.”
“I still think I ought to go along,” Mac protested.
“Hey, what if I get in trouble?” he grinned to cover the illogical inconsistency of his point. “There won’t be anyone who knows where I am to ride to the rescue.”
“I thought you said he wouldn’t give you any trouble,” Mac returned the volley.
“I don’t expect him to, that’s why you shouldn’t worry. Go relax, order an appetizer while you’re waiting, your schedule has been messed up for a few days and you have a bigger responsibility than this. Take care of yourself for both of us,” he furtively brushed the back his fingertips against the top of her small tummy.
With their backs toward the lobby no one was in a position to see the brief intimate act. She shivered involuntarily as his touch penetrated the soft silk top she was wearing. It was sufficient to distract her, refocusing her thoughts on her responsibility to the family they both wanted. She also experienced a lateral moment of aggravation. Like it or not, they both had to think twice about taking chances. She wasn’t used to having restrictions on her physical activities, and Harm would have to rein in his impulsive tendency to take chances
Although she still had serious misgivings about this case, she couldn’t identify exactly where they came from. She was certain Morgan hadn’t been the one to actually push the girl, but he was involved in some significant way. Harm had actually met the man, and beneath his sudden need to pursue the actor she could feel his confidence. Had she truly suspected Harm was in danger, nothing would have kept her from going with him. But the men were of equal stature and Harm was in better shape. She knew he was prepared for trouble whether he admitted it or not.
“Okay, but I won’t wait long,” she warned. “If you’re not back very soon, I’m coming in after you.”
“If I’m not back soon you’d better bring Tim and Ben, and the whole Baltimore police force,” he laughed. Using a playful tone and his full flyboy smile, he made light of any potential danger.
Her tight smile demonstrated she wasn’t amused, “I told you once that your smile didn’t have any effect on me.”
“I know, but I never believed you,” he teased, then scoffed. “Mac, you know better than anyone what kind of training I’ve had. I’m not going to get taken out by an actor.”
She gave him a sharp nod, acknowledging it wasn’t just bravado talking. “I know Harm…but…be careful.”
“I promise,” he squeezed her arm in reassurance.
“You have ten minutes.” She smiled, but underneath was a hard promise of her own. She turned back toward the dining room and the waiting host.
Harm didn’t actually expect the actor to pull anything he couldn’t handle. For some reason he didn’t believe the guy was directly involved, but indirectly the man knew something. Harm was determined to find out what it was, and he had to do it quickly. They may have made light of the situation, but he had no doubt if he were gone very long Mac would be on his heels like a hound on a rabbit.
He watched her follow the host to their table, while he waited for the elevator. Then he stepped in, let the door close, and punched the button for the twenty-fifth floor
As he ascended his thoughts turned to previous evening. They had spent long hours compiling, sorting, and comparing the information they’d received. McGee’s software took the task from an effort of days or weeks, to several hours, but they had still been up very late.
After their supper, and the tale of Mac’s vision, McGee had suggested installing the software and transferring the photo file to Mac’s laptop. McGee had continued sorting files, while Ben compared information on the documents. Mac sifted through the photos, fine-tuning the output of the facial recognition module, and separating out photos that obviously did not fit the description of either the young French girl or the vague figure in Mac’s dream.
Harm had worked between Mac and Ben, giving each a break in turn, then allowing Ben to relieve McGee since the Sheriff was far more computer savvy than Harm.
They’d still weren’t certain if they were looking for two women or only one, and it had taken hours to narrow their search to a little over three hundred possible photographs. McGee’s software had given them a rough selection of women with dark hair, but it was hampered by the quality of the photos and the uncontrolled environments where they were taken. If they’d possessed just one verified photograph, it would have made the job easier. Instead, they’d ultimately been forced to cull for the likeliest match to the anomalous young woman or women, by looking at every one of the software selected photos.
In a late night addition of new files from the Baltimore investigation, Ben had quickly located the hotel banquet bartender’s statement. It concurred with the one from Brisbane and the one from Turkey. An account of a pretty young French girl with long dark hair, and heavy, exotic makeup, dressed all in black, who requested a glass of white wine for another guest. “She looked underage,” he admitted, “but it was a private party and I watched her walk across the floor. I wanted to make sure she wasn’t getting it for herself. I warned one of the security women to keep an eye on her, but she went ahead and took the glass to a blond in a blue dress.” He had then identified the recipient from a photograph. It was the woman who fell from the roof.
The Vegas bartender’s statement hadn’t mentioned anything about a dark haired girl. Harm wondered if a further interview might give them information that this same young woman had attempted to get a drink from him. At the time, it might not have seemed important.
Their final coup had been discovering a photo from the previous night’s party. A young woman who matched the description perfectly, engaged in conversation with the woman who had died Friday night. While not conclusive evidence on any level, it still pointed to big red road signs that needed to be deciphered. Although it was a profile shot, it gave them more information for their search than they’d previously had.
With the discovery of this information, Harm called for a halt. It was nearing 0100 hours and they were all tired. His unspoken reason was that Mac needed some rest. They wouldn’t be able to interview the local bartender or contact Las Vegas until morning. Sorting through the remainder of the photos for more matches could wait until after they had some sleep.
This morning they’d resumed with a good idea of what they were looking for, eliminating nearly seventy percent of the photos on the basis of age, weight, or clothing before they narrowed the field to two people and more than three dozen photos. Superficially, it looked like the same person, but further examination revealed it was actually two different females. Mac eventually found possible matches in photos from every party.
The younger one was more slender and matched the description of the French girl given by the bartenders. By whatever twist of fate that had brought them into this investigation there was a single photo of her handing a glass of wine to the woman who had died in Istanbul. Another showed her talking to the man later found dead in Brisbane. Eventually they found three photos that showed her standing very near the woman who had died in Vegas. Their best guess put the young woman’s age somewhere around eighteen or nineteen.
She appeared often enough in the background of candid shots taken at nearly every party. A few showed her near the victims, but just as often, they showed her talking to other people. Often, she was near the co-star Gretchen Deerslayer, in one she was holding what looked like a glass of champagne. There was even a possible match in a few of the grainy snapshots taken in the unfavorable jungle conditions of the first party, but only portions of the person they thought they’d identified was visible in those shots. It wasn’t a clear match.
The other woman was several years older and more mature in build, probably between twenty-five and thirty. She appeared in the background of the photos on a less frequent basis. But she always had her face averted or partially averted. Almost as though she had deliberately avoided being photographed.
Unfortunately, Mac didn’t recognize either woman. She explained that she’d never actually seen the person in her ‘dream’ and she couldn’t ‘feel’ her from the photograph. Just before coming down for lunch they had printed out half a dozen copies of the best photos, one for each of them and one for the hotel’s security director. They emailed copies to the Baltimore investigative unit.
As Harm reached the twenty-fifth floor, he noticed there was no guard on duty and the door to the suite’s foyer stood ajar. It could only mean one thing, Morgan and his group had checked out.
Same time
Suite 2502
Morgan had left the limo idling at the curb. He didn’t want to take the slightest chance of delaying their departure. Daphne had begged him tearfully to retrieve her teddy bear handbag. In their haste, she had left it on the nightstand of her room. He’d tried to reassure his daughter that it would be an adventure shopping for a new bag. However, with a sideways glace at her daughter, Polly had then added her voice to the plea with such urgency that his skin had prickled at the possibility of an underlying reason.
He’d hurried to the front desk to request use of the room key he’d just surrendered. It wasn’t normal procedure; however, he wasn’t a normal guest. Entering the elevator, he’d caught a fleeting glance of that infernal Navy Captain standing near the dining room with his woman. Then the doors slid closed and the car rose swiftly to the top floor.
Morgan had reached the back bedroom and retrieved the handbag when he heard a knock on the door. Turning impatiently, he’d tossed the bag under the end of the bed. Suspicious of Polly’s reaction, he’d already looked inside and he didn’t like what he’d found.
Foolishly, he struggled to convince himself it was just the close of another long arduous season. That everyone was exhausted and irritable. That must be it. He was reading complex meanings into a simple request, a simple discovery. His worst fears danced wickedly with his imagination as he attempted to deny the unformed terror in his mind. Perhaps it would be better for all of them if he retired. Yes, of course, that would be best. Though he realistically doubted he’d have much choice after this fiasco, perhaps it would be a mixed blessing.
He knew who was knocking on the door. Pulling it open, Morgan spoke without looking.
“What can I do for you, Captain? I’m in a hurry,” his voice was barely polite.
“Leaving town?” Harm looked past him, observing the deserted room.
“Yes. There’s no reason to remain.”
“Didn’t Detective Hancock ask you to stay?”
“We weren’t ordered to stay. This unfortunate accident has nothing to do with me, I assure you. We’re flying home in less than an hour. If the police have further questions they can contact the British Home Office, who will very likely direct them to my solicitor.”
“On the contrary, Morgan, I think it has everything to do with you, even if you aren’t directly guilty,” Harm’s tone was accusatory.
“How can you possibly suggest that? There is absolutely no evidence other than the circumstance of this young woman having attended our party, to tie me to this supposed crime or any of the others that you seem to be pulling out of your fantasies.” Morgan was bluffing now. Harm was certain. And his bluff had a harder edge than in their first interview. In Harm’s mind, this could only mean he had discovered something since yesterday morning, and it was making him very afraid.
“Someone with your group, either your personal entourage, or the production staff in general has had a hand in this. We have photos of two women who were present at every party.” Harm handed him the computer sheets. “And this one shows one of them standing beside the woman in Turkey, you can clearly see her handing the woman a drink. This one from Brisbane shows her speaking to the man who died, the bartender told the police she asked for a glass of wine and took it to him. In the next one you can see her very near the dead woman from Vegas, and this last one shows her in a corner conversing with the girl who died Friday night.”
A look of abject fear passed swiftly across Morgan’s features. Harm was quick to observe the reaction. He continued pushing his advantage.
“Nearly every one of the photos shows her interacting in some way with the person who has been found dead later. Every one of the people has shown traces of a barbiturate in their system that can be traced back to Southeast Asia, the site of the first ‘accident’. I need to know if you can identify this woman. Otherwise, I’ll be forced to call Lt. Hancock and have your plane grounded so we can look for her ourselves.”
“I don’t believe I can let you do that, Captain,” Morgan replied with deceptive mildness.
His answer surprised Harm. He had expected an adamant protest or simple lie.
“You’re protecting someone. Who is she? You can’t possibly want to be implicated in this.”
“Implicated? How charming. You know, I’m not so very different from you, Captain.” The tall actor spoke softly, but his words held an unspoken threat.
“You’re nothing like me,” Harm protested vehemently
“Tell me Captain, who is the beautiful Marine I’ve seen you with in the lobby? Your wife? Perhaps your lover? Is the child yours?” the other man mused suggestively.
“Leave the Colonel out of this. She isn’t involved,” Harm snapped defensively
“More than a mere fellow officer, I think. I saw the way you held yourself when you spoke to her.” Morgan was using all his skill to suggest a return threat to what Harm held dear. A threat he knew he wasn’t capable of carrying out.
Harm just stared the man down. Fear for Mac’s safety warred with his desire to push harder.
“I’d wager you believed you were being circumspect,” Morgan taunted Harm, dramatically punctuating his speech with a wave of his manicured hand. “I know about your restrictions against public displays of affection and all that. But really, Captain, hasn’t anyone ever pointed it out to you? You telegraph your feelings from a mile away.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Harm became defensive.
“On the contrary, I believe I do, Captain. You see I’m rather good at my trade. I take pride in my interpretation of emotions and such. It wasn’t what you did, you see, it was the way you spoke to her. Leaning towards her in that particular, almost possessive way, the lingering look, the rather remarkable smile on your face when you separated.”
Harm looked stunned.
“And the way you touched her arm,” Morgan continued tauntingly. “That wasn’t the sort of pat you would give a chum or colleague, was it? It was quite tender, caressing, and it lasted just half a moment too long. So, you see, I know how important she is to you.”
“Is that a threat? I could have you arrested. Have your plane grounded,” Harm coldly repeated his threat.
“Not at all, just an observation. Now tell me, Captain, what would you do if you suspected your lovely wife of being involved in, shall we say, over-protecting you?”
“Your wife? Is this your wife? It was our information that you’re not married.”
The actor smiled. “Ah yes, the press. They do have a way of getting things wrong now and then, don’t they? But no matter.”
“So, just where do you keep this wife…? Wait a minute, the woman in black, the one who is supposed to be a man…” Harm’s wheels turned furiously, trying to sort out this new direction.
“You figured that out?” Morgan’s eyebrows went up. “Very good, Captain.”
“But it’s obvious she’s neither of these women. Her hair is light brown, not black, and one of these women looks taller, the other is as tall but more slender, very young, perhaps a teenager,” Harm protested, then his eyes widened as the revelation hit him “No, it’s not her is it? It’s the child…her child…your child.” However, Harm got no farther. He barely saw the hand come up in time to deflect the blow, but the force of it sent him stumbling backwards half a step. Before he return the blow, his arm was twisted behind his back and pressure applied to his neck. Everything went black for the Navy Captain.
“Bloody hell, Channah! Why did you do that? What are you doing here?” Morgan stormed at the governess.
“I was watching through the glass doors. I saw him follow you. I thought there might be trouble…,” she explained easily.
“Well you needn’t have killed him,” Morgan exploded in panic.
“He isn’t dead.” She stooped impassively to check Harm’s pulse. “However, he will have a very nasty headache. If you like, I can kill him for you. Obviously it wouldn’t be the first time.” She smiled, and a look Michael could never have imagined replaced her benign features.
“You?!” He accused. “All the time I was worried…”
“That it was your precious Polly? Actually, I believe the first one may have been. After all Daphne was much too young. An accident of course, but still a mess that needed to be cleaned up.”
“Cleaned up?...Oh, good God!”
“Yes, well, I doubt very much that God had anything to do with this,” she remarked coldly as she opened her cell phone and hit a speed dial number.
“This is Channah, instruct the driver to take you and Daphne to the airport immediately. No, we’re just going to be delayed…don’t argue…and tell him to send another car for us…never mind, we’ll tell you later,” she finished with a closing snap of the instrument.
“Now don’t tell me you never suspected this,” she asked with a hard edge to her voice. “You’ve been running interference on these ‘accidents’ for years.”
“Wait a minute, you said the first one? In Thailand? That writer?” He was struggling to make this tumble of facts fit his nascent fears.
“Of course, she was sloppy drunk and had a filthy mouth. Did you hear even half of what she was saying?”
“It wasn’t true,” he protested.
“Well apparently some of it was true, wasn’t it? And that’s the part that hurt Polly,” Channah accused.
“What a bloody mess, and I suppose Polly heard all of it.”
“Naturally, most of it was said with that very purpose in mind.”
“That woman was a bitch,” he dismissed, then thoughtfully added, “but…but, everyone thought Polly was Paul Stanley. Why…?”
“You may have your little fantasy about that,” she smirked, “and the studio may protect you, however, no one on the set, none of the regulars, ever believed that lie. Not for a moment. They’ve gone along with it mostly because you treated them well and they liked their jobs.”
“If…if Polly did…um…was responsible for only the first one…then the others…?” His stomach churned as he asked the inevitable question.
Channah looked at him hard.
“No! No, not…Daphne? But, why?”
“She felt threatened for herself and her mother. She mostly wanted to eliminate Gretchen, I suppose. She was under the distinct impression that your lovely co-star was the reason her mother needed to hide her identity. You know that whole scenario hasn’t done a lot for your daughter’s mental stability. I suggest you find someone to help her…perhaps even the entire family. Fortunately, she hasn’t succeeded with Ms. Deerslayer, but just the act of trying, of course, that’s the part you’ll have to deal with.”
“But it was Polly’s idea to hide her identity…,” he protested, before his mind switched to a different track. “Wait, how…”
“…did Gretchen survive? Simple. Daphne doesn’t really understand how the drugs work. Ever since before we went to Thailand, she’d watched Polly take one at bedtime to help her sleep. So Daphne put more in Gretchen’s drink in a childish attempt to make her go away. The difference was that Gretchen regularly used sleeping pills and other prescriptions to relax her. Her system was used to them. In addition, she never drank alcohol. You didn’t know that?” she asked at Michael’s dazed look. He shook his head in response. “No, well the drink everyone thought was champagne was actually ginger ale. Fortunately, she never got more than a heavy night’s sleep and a headache from the dosage. That would have indeed been a very nasty mess to clean up,” Channah declared matter-of-factly.
“And the others?” he asked, almost too stunned to react at this point.
“They were a threat to you, and they upset Polly and Daphne very much. You hired me to protect your family, so I did.”
“How? By poisoning those people?” his voice hardened.
“No, I didn’t put the drugs in their drinks,” Channah shrugged, then smiled grimly. “Daphne did that because she observed them as a threat to you and to her mother. I have no idea how much she put in their drinks. Once they had enough alcohol in their system that they appeared to need help, I took them someplace safe.”
“Safe?” His voice deepened with emotion. “One was eaten by animals, two were drowned and a fourth fell from the roof Friday night. I suppose only the man in Brisbane doesn’t count, he merely had an allergic reaction,” Morgan finished acidly
“Yes, too bad, poor dear, he was having terrible trouble breathing by the time we got to his room,” Channah explained with a complete lack of sympathy.
“Bloody hell!” Michael sat down heavily on the arm of a nearby chair. “But…but they were harmless. Just people rubbing elbows with someone famous, people looking for a little attention.” He ran his hands over his face and through his hair.
“You didn’t hear what they said about you, the threats they made, the stories they were prepared to tell the press, just like that writer in Thailand. Your picture, your story, your whole life would have been repeatedly dragged out in the open. The paparazzi would have been all over you like fleas on a desert dog. Your family would have had no peace.” Channah’s face had taken on a look of fanatical dedication that frightened Michael.
“Who are you? Where did you come from? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Did you really want me to?” She hesitated a beat, then when his silence was all the reply she needed, she continued. “In any case I wasn’t hired as a family therapist. I’m Daphne’s governess and bodyguard, Mr. Morgan. Your wife hired me to protect your daughter. That’s all you need to know about me.”
“Wait a minute, how did Daphne get her mothers sleeping pills and…God I didn’t even know she was taking pills,” he protested.
“It must be very convenient, this private little fantasy you live. So much deniability,” Channah smirked. “Actually I don’t know if Polly does use sleeping pills any more. She threw away the prescription that she got in Thailand immediately after that writer was found dead. Daphne found them and hid them in her teddy bear. I’m assuming that’s when she first got the idea of making Gretchen go away.”
“Are you saying Daphne knew what Polly had done?” he was aghast.
“Children have a tendency to mimic their parents,” Daphne offered cruelly.
He took a deep breath, raked his fingers through his hair, and looked about helplessly. He was in way over his head. Would Channah now prove dangerous to his family? He had no idea how he would bluff his way out of this mess.
“What now?” his calm demeanor decried his inner turmoil, more a tribute to his acting skills than his deep feelings. He had to get to the plane, and somehow he had to rid himself of this woman, but that would take far more skill than he possessed. Far more skill than his TV character possessed, as if any of it had ever been real. “What do we do with the good Captain here?”
“If we’re up here too long, someone is going to get curious. I suggest you go find the item you were sent to find,” she ordered the stunned actor.
“I asked you a question, Channah.”
“What would you have me do with him? He obviously knows too much.”
“Yes, he does, and if he knows his wife probably knows.”
“Undoubtedly…”
“And that police detective…the Federal agent…”
“Correct.”
“I see no need to add to this mess any further. If we can just get back to England… Yes, If we can just get home, then it becomes something for the diplomats to work out…” he murmured, retreating from the grim reality of the situation.
“As you wish,” she conceded. “Now go find Daphne’s bag. It no doubt contains the remainder of Polly’s sleeping pills.”
“How…how long has Polly been taking sleeping pills?” he wondered that he’d been so blind, so stupid, he hadn’t noticed his wife’s habit.
“I have no idea. She had them in England, but then she had the prescription refilled after we joined you. After Daphne found them, she embarked on her little crusade. It must be the same medication since the drug signatures match for every death.”
“How could you possibly know that?” he asked in clear astonishment.
“I have my sources.” Once again, the mirthless smile appeared on her face.
“This is a god-awful mess,” he dithered.
“Go..get..the..bag,” she order forcefully pulling him from his useless mental state. “Now!”
Michael turned and fled to the adjoining room to retrieve the discarded handbag. He took a quick moment to wash the contents down the sink before he returned to the main room. He was terrified that Channah might still make good on her threat to dispatch the Navy Captain. And wouldn’t that be a fine international incident. His return found her stripping Harm of his clothing.
“What ever are you doing?” he asked in bewilderment.
“He regained consciousness, I had to knock him out again. If I remove his uniform, it will be more difficult for him to follow us,” she replied as she tugged the trouser off Harm’s long legs and tossed the clothing in Michael’s direction. “I suggest you change clothes with him quickly, unless you do want me to kill him. If he called the police about these photos, we need to get out of here. If anyone sees you, they will think you are him. By the time they find him, we’ll be airborne.”
Stunned by her command of the dangerous situation, he quickly stripped out of his clothes and changed into Harm’s uniform. This was no ordinary governess, but then hadn’t he always suspected there was more to Channah Newell. He simply hadn’t wanted to know.
She bound the Naval officer’s hands with strips torn from the suites’ expensive Italian bed sheets, then removed his boxers and bound his feet.
“Now what are you doing?” Michael was aghast at this final indecency.
“I told you I wouldn’t kill him, but I do need to stop him from pursuing us. If he’s naked, he can’t go running around the hotel sounding an alarm even if he gets loose. Pull that chair over here, help me with him he’s heavy,” she instructed.
When she finished, they shoved Harm into the closet at an extremely uncomfortable angle, closed the door, and placed the chair under the doorknob. It was overly simple, but it would take him a while to get free. Next, she systematically cut every phone line in the suite, then bundled the clothing Michael had discarded. Opening the door into the foyer, she listened for a few seconds, and shoved at Morgan. “Let’s get out of here.”
As they waited for the elevator, she tossed the actor’s clothing into a wall mounted trash bin next to the elevator doors. In their haste, neither of them noticed the items that Morgan had left on the small side table.
End of ten
[
Next Thread |
Previous Thread |
Next Message |
Previous Message
]
| |
Feedback: 