A Breath of Dead Air (The Mysteries of Bell & Whitehouse Book 8) (6 page)

R
ick had been trying
to find a parking spot for a little while. Usually there was plenty of space on Lake Street, but today all the best spots—in the shade the elm trees were providing—had already been taken. Finally he found the perfect spot, but just as he was indicating to turn and steer his car into it, a gray Volvo with remarkably filthy windshield beat him to it and snatched it just before his very eyes.

Cursing under his breath, he drove on. He’d tried to phone the mystery woman who worked for Senator Vickar, but the call went straight to voicemail. So he’d decided to return home for now, and have a bit to eat at Bell’s.

He wanted to talk things through with Fee. Pick her brain about this Vickar thing. And he’d finally parked his car and was crossing the street to the bakery when he saw through the store window that the same man who’d snatched his spot was inside, engaged in a spirited conversation with his housemates Alice and Reece and a third woman he didn’t recognize.

He frowned and quickly entered. The moment he did, he saw that Fee was darting worried glances at the foursome as they exchanged heated words. She was on the phone, jotting down an order.

“Hey, honey,” he said, attracting her attention.

She pressed the phone to her chest. “Oh, Ricky. That man over there is looking for you.” She gestured to the booth where Reece, Alice, and the woman were seated, the man now yelling at them quite vociferously.

He nodded and stalked over to the table where this stranger was making a ruckus. There was no one else in the tea room, so at least the loudmouth wasn’t driving away paying customers. Already Rick had formed an ill opinion of the man. First he’d snatched his parking space, and now he was making a nuisance of himself in Fee’s place of business. Not done, he felt.

So he approached the man, preparatory to giving him a piece of his mind. But the moment the other caught sight of him, he cried, “You!” and attached himself to Rick’s person by placing both hands on his shirt and giving him a vigorous shake. Why he did this, Rick did not know. And just when he thought his shirtfront was going to become detached from its moorings, the man hauled off and decked him with a surprisingly powerful sucker punch to the nose. Rick stumbled back, abruptly landing on the floor.

As a reporter, Rick Dawson had lived through quite a few ordeals in his time. He’d interviewed cannibalistic tribesmen in the dark heart of Belgium and had been forced to share a meal with them. Luckily no humans had been on the menu that night. Once, he’d even been targeted by a gang of former beauty queens, now stalking the seedier parts of Los Angeles and terrorizing the locals into paying their botox treatments. He’d come away from these harrowing experiences with a profound respect for his own life, swearing never to venture out there again. But this little man took the cake.

Irritated, he scrambled to his feet, but then saw that Reece was already subduing the violent twerp, holding him in a tight grip, and instructing Alice to call her dad, Happy Bays’s chief of police.

“Are you crazy?” he cried, holding his nose, blood seeping onto his shirt.

“I want my money back, Mr. Dawson!” the little man screeched, his face red as a tomato. “I want my money back right now!”

“What money? I don’t have your money!”

The man managed to extricate a fist from Reece’s grip and shook it vehemently in Rick’s direction. “You’re Baldemar Calypso’s brother-in-law. When that son-of-a—”

“Watch it!” Rick cried.

“When your brother-in-law embezzled that money, CalypsoCo stock took a nosedive.”

Rick winced at the mention of the word nose. “So?”

“So I’ve got my entire life savings invested in CalypsoCo! I lost my shirt!”

Rick’s shirt was starting to resemble the aftermath of a bloodbath, but he thought he could see what this guy was so upset about. Still he decided to dispense a PSA. “Why would you ever invest all your money in one stock?”

The little man hung his head. “I didn’t. My banker did. I gave him carte blanche, thinking he probably knew best. He said CalypsoCo was the new Coca-Cola or Microsoft. Told me Warren Buffett himself was invested heavily in the company, Berkshire Hathaway sinking billions into the stock.”

“How much did you lose?”

“Two hundred thousand dollars. My entire life savings. That money was for my kids’ college fund, and me and my wife’s retirement.” He shrugged. “I’ve got nothing left now that CalypsoCo is trading for cents on the dollar.”

Rick saw all now, and even though his nose was still hurting like hell, and his pride was still wounded, a wealth of compassion welled up in his bosom. “For your information, Bomer never embezzled that money. He was set up.”

The man looked up in surprise. “What are you saying, Mr. Dawson?”

“I’m saying that when I’m through with this story, CalypsoCo will come out of this swimmingly, their reputation restored and their stock soaring to new and greater heights.” He smiled when he saw hope dawning in the man’s eyes. “I’m going to set the record straight, Mr…”

“Pomice. Elroy Pomice. Do you promise, Mr. Dawson?”

“He does, Elroy. Mr. Dawson will make things right again.”

The words had been spoken by the unknown woman, and all eyes now turned to her. Rick thought she looked vaguely familiar, and then he recognized her. She was the star of that new hit reality show Temptation Town. Though usually he was more into highbrow stuff, he’d managed to catch one or two episodes with Alice and Fee. Purely for informational purposes, of course. To keep abreast of the current entertainment landscape.

The woman’s words seemed to do much to restore Elroy Pomice to equanimity, for the duped investor’s eyes widened, and his face actually displayed a smile. “Are you sure, Jezebel?” he breathed, visibly awed.

She returned his smile and added some wattage of her own. “Yes, I’m sure. And I think you can release Mr. Pomice now, Reece. He won’t be beating anyone up anymore, isn’t that right, Elroy?”

Elroy nodded ten times in quick succession, his beady little eyes fixed on Jezebel, a hand stealing out to fingercomb his remaining strands. “I’m sorry, Miss Baskerville. I guess I got carried away a little bit just then.”

“Why did you beat up Rick anyway?” Alice asked, still peeved.

“Yeah, he’s not the one who sank your stock,” Reece added.

Elroy shrugged. “I tried to get to Baldemar Calypso, but the man is protected at all points. So I decided to go after the next best thing.”

Rick grimaced. It is never flattering or nice to be described as the next best thing, but he could see Elroy’s point. Bomer was holed up at his father’s place right now, not allowed out of Grover or Charlene’s sight, much to his own chagrin. And until this mess was cleaned up, he was speaking to no one. Except for Rick, of course, his oldest and dearest chum.

Rick tentatively put a hand on Elroy’s shoulder, keeping a close eye on the man’s right hand, which had landed that unexpected punch to his nose. “I’m working on the story about the so-called embezzlement now, Mr. Pomice, and neither Bomer nor his father is to blame. CalypsoCo was set up—used as a pawn in a much greater game with much bigger players.”

“Who?” the man asked, fascinated. “Who’s behind all this, Mr. Dawson?”

He shook his head. “At this point, I can’t reveal anything, Mr. Pomice. It’s too soon to tell. But rest assured I will uncover the truth, and when I do, it will rock this country to its very foundation.” And in the process land him his Pulitzer.

“Rick! What happened to your nose?!”

Fee came rushing up to him, her phone call finally over, consternation written all over her features.

“It’s all right, honey. It doesn’t even hurt anymore,” he assured her.

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Dawson,” Mr. Pomice said with appropriate contrition.

“That’s all right. No harm done, really,” he said, wincing a little when Fee dabbed at his nose with her apron, trying to stem the flow of blood.

He brushed off her attempts to channel Florence Nightingale, feeling quite heroic now. No great story was ever written without a good deal of blood, sweat and tears, and all in all he saw that this episode would only add to the legend of the piece when finally he sat down to commit it to his laptop.

After a good deal of cajoling, Elroy Pomice was ushered out, Alice and Fee handing him a gift basket of Bell’s Best for his trouble, and Rick stood eyeing Jezebel Baskerville with professional curiosity. He remembered her as possessing a grating voice and obnoxious personality on the show, but talking to Elroy she’d displayed a gentleness and sweetness that belied that fearsome onscreen persona. Could it be that she was simply playing a part?

“I’m going to be on Temptation Town, buddy,” Reece announced, the entire Elroy Pomice episode already forgotten. It was hard for the movie star to focus on anyone or anything other than himself or his illustrious career.

“Is that so?” Rick asked, still studying La Baskerville.

“Yep. Me and Alice both, in fact,” continued Reece, excitement bubbling in his voice. “We’re gonna be on TV, buddy! Isn’t that great?!”

“Is sure is.” He didn’t know why he did what he did next. Call it a hunch, but he took his phone from his pocket, and tried the number of Job Vickar’s human lie detector once more. Not only did the call go through this time, but suddenly Jezebel Baskerville’s phone belted out a peppy tune. Her eyes met Rick’s, and when her lips curved up into a smile, his jaw dropped.

“You!” he cried. “You’re—”

“Bo Vickar,” she responded softly, her face morphing into a gentle smile. She thrust out a delicate hand. “I’m Senator Job Vickar’s daughter.”

F
elicity sighed wistfully
. She was a big fan of Jezebel Baskerville—or Bo Vickar as her name turned out to be. Temptation Town was the hit of the season, and Fee had caught every single episode. She loved that show, and so did Alice, actually, even though right now she did her best to hide the fact.

The five of them sat together in a booth, with Bo doing the talking.

“When I started working in the entertainment industry, I decided not to use my real name. For one thing, I didn’t want what I did to reflect on my father or his political career, and likewise I didn’t want people to think Dad had simply pulled some strings to get me to where I am today.”

“So you’re a senator’s daughter, huh?” Alice asked, eyes wide.

Bo grinned. “That’s right. But don’t hold it against me, Alice.”

“Quite the contrary,” Alice blurted out, and they all laughed.

Felicity, too, was surprised to find that beneath that abrasive exterior lurked an entirely different persona. Now that she’d dropped the mask, Bo Vickar turned out to be a very pleasant young woman, and not at all the vixenish man-eating monster Jezebel Baskerville appeared to be.

“That’s just part of the script,” Bo explained with an apologetic smile. “When the network created Temptation Town, they created Jezebel Baskerville along with it. I auditioned for the part, knowing full well Jezebel was as diametrically opposed to my own personality as could be. But to my surprise they hired me, and I must say I’ve quite enjoyed playing the part.”

“I can see why,” Alice said. “Who doesn’t want to play the femme fatale?”

“I don’t,” Reece said. He still seemed perturbed that Jezebel turned out not to be Jezebel. But then Reece’s was not a nimble mind. It would probably take him some time to adjust to this new state of affairs. For her part, Alice was visibly relieved that her competition proved to be no competition at all.

“So you’re the senator’s secret weapon, huh?” Rick suddenly asked.

Bo looked perturbed, but then Rick added, “Don’t worry. These are my friends. They won’t breathe a word about your secret to anyone. Trust me.”

“A secret weapon? What are you talking about?” Felicity asked. She might be a fan of Jezebel and her show, but she’d never imagined the woman possessed secret powers. “You mean like Wonder Woman or something?”

Bo laughed. Unlike her onscreen persona she had quite a pleasant laugh, Felicity found. “No, I’m not Wonder Woman. But Rick is right. I have the gift of sight. Have had it since childhood, actually. I guess I got it from my mother, and her mother before her. Or at least that’s what I’ve been told.”

“The gift of sight?” Alice asked. “So what do you see, exactly?”

The question was quite apt, Felicity felt. They’d been dealing with the supernatural for a while now, chasing ghosts and solving crimes, but a person blessed with the gift of sight wasn’t something they’d encountered so far.

“You mean you can see the future?” she asked.

“Well, not the future. I mean, I can tell if a person is lying or not, which is why my dad likes to call me his human lie detector. And I can read a person’s mind to some extent.” She gestured to Reece. “Just—just tell me something.”

“Huh?” Reece asked, put on the spot.

“Something that only you know to be true or not.”

Reece frowned, thinking hard. This was a tough one. Then his face creased into a wide smile. “Got it!” he announced, and abruptly his features morphed into a vacant look. “I can read minds,” he announced deadpan.

Bo laughed. “That’s easy. That’s an obvious lie, Reece.”

The actor’s jaw dropped. “How did you know?!”

“Reece, babe, even I knew you were lying,” Alice told him.

“Yeah, Reece. You have a tell,” Rick said.

“A tell? I do not!” Reece cried, vehemently denying the foul charge.

“Yes, you do. Every time you tell a lie, you puff up your chest and gaze off into the middle distance, like Bing Crosby about to burst into song.”

“You know? I never noticed before, but you’re right. He does that,” Felicity laughed. She gave Rick’s hand a squeeze. “Honey, now you say something. I want to see if you have a tell, too.”

“Um, well, lemme see,” Rick muttered, a little flustered. It rarely happened that people asked him the hard questions. Usually he was the one doing the probing. “Well, my dad—Chazz Falcone,” he added for Bo’s benefit, “—is a wonderful human being and I think the world of him.”

Felicity laughed, even before Bo called him out on his lie. “You think your dad’s the world’s foremost crook!” She had to admit Rick had no tell, though. He’d lied smoothly, unlike Reece. Probably a boon for a reporter.

Rick smiled. “She’s right. I do think Dad’s a world-class crook.”

“My turn,” Felicity said with a grin. She was starting to like this game. “I’m a lousy baker.” She directed a quick look at Bo, to gauge her response.

“That’s a… true statement,” Bo said, nodding.

“Can’t be!” Reece cried. “Fee is an excellent baker, aren’t you, Fee?”

“Nope. Afraid not. My dad’s the genius baker in the family, just like his dad was. I’m just average, muddling along—nothing to write home about.”

“Well, I like your baking,” Rick said, pressing a kiss on her cheek.

“Thanks, hon.” She glanced at Alice. “Your turn, Miss Whitehouse.”

Alice frowned. “Mh. It’s so hard for me. I never tell a lie.”

“That’s a lie!” Reece yelled.

“Hey, I hadn’t even started yet!” Alice complained.

“Oh, right. Sorry about that, babe.”

“Whenever I do the laundry, strange things happen.”

“Like what?” Rick wanted to know. “Be more specific, Alice.”

“Like… Like that time I washed Reece’s socks and they came out purple.”

Reece’s eyes had widened considerably. “So that’s why all my socks are purple! You told me purple was your favorite color and you’d bought me the set so you would love me even more!”

Alice was watching Bo. “Well? Was I telling the truth or not?”

Bo shrugged. “Which part? The part about the purple socks or the part about the laundry?”

Alice shifted in her seat. “Both.”

Bo took a deep breath and studied her gel nails. “You love the color purple; it’s your favorite color. And you did buy Reece those socks. Not because you would love him more if he wore purple but because his old ones were a gift from his former girlfriend and you burned them along with all of her other gifts. And you love doing the laundry because you love the smell of freshly washed clothes, and your favorite detergent is Ariel.” She cocked an eyebrow. “Shall I go on?”

Alice hitched up her jaw, which had dropped throughout Bo’s impressive demonstration. “No. That’s all right,” she said in a small voice.

Reece’s eyes had narrowed. “Did you really burn all my socks?”

Alice waved a hand in his general direction. “Oh, come off it, babe. You know I did. I told you at the time.”

“You did not! Or did you?” He looked thoughtful as he rubbed a finger along his angular jawline. “What about my sequined shirt? The one I wore to the premiere of
Hunk
?”

“Burned it.”

“Or my skateboard? The one with the fiery flames on the side.”

“Torched it.”

“What about my collection of vintage baseball cards?”

Alice pursed her lips. “Consumed by fire.”

“But, babe!”

Alice held up her hand. “Please, Reece. I told you to get rid of all of Dorothy’s stuff. That whatever you decided to keep was going to be toast.”

Reece looked pained. “I didn’t think you actually meant that, babe!”

Felicity had to grin. Dorothy Valour had been Reece’s girlfriend before he met Alice. She was something of a socialite, Instagram’s darling with millions of followers and pretty much only interested in Reece because of his own star power. The couple had been dubbed Doreece by the press, hounded by paps wherever they went, their picture appearing on the front page of every gossip rag every single day. Dorothy had loved every minute of it, even if Reece hadn’t. La Valour, as she was dubbed, was not a very nice person, and that was an understatement. So Alice had eradicated every last trace of her.

“You’re pretty good, Bo,” Felicity had to admit. “You know your stuff.”

Bo shrugged. “It’s a gift. Something I was born with. I can’t take any credit for it.”

“But what will happen to Temptation Town once you start to work for your father?” Rick wanted to know.

“I’ll have to give that up,” Bo responded. “I can’t be scrutinizing senators and congressmen and host Temptation Town on the side.” She sighed. “When Dad first started talking about this Truth Bill of his, I didn’t think he’d go through with it. And then when he did I never thought the bill would be accepted. I mean, all politicians lie to some extent at some point in their careers, or tell some half-truth. If Dad really wants to catch them all in the act, Congress will simply grind to a halt.”

“I think it’s only fair,” Alice opined. “They shouldn’t lie.”

“Yep. Expose them all is what I say,” Felicity agreed.

“Well, I will, of course. I can’t let my father down. And truth be told, this Temptation Town gig was starting to grate on me. Exposing cheating husbands is a lot more destructive to the soul than I initially thought.”

There was a momentary silence around the table. It was true, Felicity thought. During the two seasons the show had run, practically every single husband Jezebel Baskerville had encountered had succumbed to the seductive tricks of the temptresses the producers had selected. It was a sad state of affairs when there were so few faithful men in this world.

“So this is the last season?” she asked.

“No, the show will go on. Temptation Town is a monster hit for the network. Only I won’t be the one presenting it. Instead of catching cheating husbands I’ll be in Washington catching lying congressmen and senators.”

“I just hope you won’t find too many men willing to cheat on their spouses in Happy Bays,” Alice said.

Bo smiled. “Don’t worry. That’s part of my gift. I can tell what kind of person I’m dealing with. And judging from what I saw yesterday and this morning, this town will probably have the lowest ‘score’ ever.”

“So why did you come here, then?” Alice wanted to know.

“I think I can answer that,” Rick said. “It’s your father’s dog, isn’t it?”

Bo nodded. “We’re still in production phase, vetting potential towns for the upcoming season. I put Happy Bays on the list for the simple reason that Pronto’s kidnappers live in this town, and I wanted to make some inquiries.”

“Your daddy’s doggie was taken?” Reece asked, aghast.

“Yesterday morning,” Bo acknowledged. “Snatched by the Pet Bandits. Or at least that’s the name that popped into my head the minute Dad told me the horrible news.”

“Johnny Carew and Jerry Vale,” Felicity said, looking at Alice.

“Yes, only…” Bo’s brow furrowed. “I’m getting mixed signals. Everything points to these men as the abductors, but when I try to visualize Pronto, I keep seeing him with another man.” She shook her head. “Apart from the fact that I can see if a person is lying or not, I can go a little deeper, and get a sense of the person. Which is how I managed to get into the mind of Pronto’s kidnapper. Only, he appears to work alone, and according to the information I could glean, the Pet Bandits have always operated as a team.”

“So maybe Johnny and Jerry aren’t behind this after all,” Felicity suggested.

Bo chewed her lower lip. “Well, actually I’m starting to suspect the same people who set up the CalypsoCo fraud are behind this dognapping as well. At least those are the signals I’m receiving.” She suddenly looked flustered.

“Who do you think is behind all this?” Felicity asked a little breathlessly. She was starting to feel like those reporters Woodward and Bernstein, on the trail of the Watergate scandal. Now all they needed was someone with a deep throat, and they were in business. She sometimes dabbled in journalism with the Happy Bays Gazette, though all she’d done lately was the occasional baking recipe, and thought this had all the makings of a great story.

Bo glanced from one to the other, then said emphatically, “Please don’t let this information leave this room under any circumstance, all right?”

“We won’t breathe a word of this to a living soul,” Felicity promised.

“Or to a dead one,” Alice added breathlessly.

Bo took a deep gulp of air, then exhaled slowly. “The face that keeps popping into my head is that of… the president of the United States.”