Bay of Deception (19 page)

Peidmont had to smile. “What the hell are you doing in administration?”

“I like theory,” Williams resumed his chair’s movement.  “The pay’s better and after sixteen years of doing
your
job, I decided I prefer theoretical crooks to the real ones.  They shoot imaginary bullets and I have a dislike for the other kind.”

“I think Jenny would agree with your preference right now.”  Peidmont said, thinking back to the fiasco’s beginning.  “Jenel sent me on what I thought was a wild goose chase, but before we were separated, Jenny mentioned she might know where more evidence was.  Problem was, Jenel wanted to play his sick games with Jenny and Collin kept me so busy I never had a chance to look.  I just don’t know if there’s any more evidence out there.” 

"Speaking of," Oliver sighed tiredly. "Any news on Collin McKenny?”

“None at all,” Williams said, shaking his head.  “Gone from the face of the Earth or at least the Monterey Peninsula as far as we can tell.” 

“Real tragedy if he was found floating in the bay,” Oliver offered, then felt a surprising twinge of guilt. “Well, I suppose it can only help Jenny if I can shed more light on the web over at JenelCo.”

“You’re not a sailing man, are you, Oliver?”

“Let’s just say I get seasick around bathtubs,”  Peidmont replied wryly.  “Why?” 

“In sailing, you learn about knots of every kind,” Williams said, clearly in his element.  “There are knots that would take you an hour to untie, maybe longer.” 

Oliver conceded this with a smile. 

“But,” Williams went on, “there are also knots which look hellishly complex and yet unravel with a single tug.  I have a feeling that’s the kind of knot you're dealing with here; you've just got to find that one thread and then pull till it all comes apart."

Collin stirred and sat up, his eyes seeming to open reluctantly.  Instead of the cab’s back seat, he found himself sitting in a small unimpressive room.  He briefly suspected that the scene about him was a dream, until his headache returned with a vengeance and something about the room struck him as oddly familiar.  The empty chair nearby caught his attention. 
The cop
! he thought. 
He'd sat next to him in this room
. 

“Why hello, Mr. McKenny.”

He turned and recognized as if from a dream the small, elderly therapist from the day before.  A slight touch of fear rippled through him. 

“Lady,” he said, more fearful than irritated.  “What the fuck am I doing here?”

The older woman laughed.

“Perhaps I would not have used those
exact
words, Mr. McKenny, but I was about to ask
you
the very same question.”

McKenny leaped up and stared accusingly at the elderly therapist.

“You’re that shrink Peidmont brought me to.”  A grin appeared after a moment.  “Yeah, that’s right!  You told him I couldn’t be fixed with a snap of your fingers.  Boy, was he pissed!” 

“Eventually we must all accept the limits of what’s possible, Mr. McKenny,” the doctor responded calmly.  “However, you have yet to explain why you are here.”

McKenny seemed lost in thought for a moment, but caught up with the doctor’s question.  “What?  Oh,” confusion crossed his face.  “How the hell do I know?”

The doctor’s right eyebrow slipped upward. “You don’t know why you are here?” 

Though her question infuriated him, the obvious concern in her voice kept him from lashing out. “Look, Doc, last thing I remember was telling some cabby my home address.  I guess I fell asleep.  The next thing I know, I woke up here just a couple of minutes ago.” 

She nodded at his explanation,  her eyes skeptical.

“So...you would like me to believe a cabby carried a man of your size up the stairs and placed you in my waiting room. 
While you slept
?”

He went red in the face. “I don’t give a fuck
what
you believe, Doc, I’m outta here!” 

Turning, he reached for the door knob, which was followed by an agonized scream.

“AAAAAAIIIIII!!!”

McKenny gripped his head with both hands and his body shook as his lungs struggled to voice the pain in his head.  The agony only ended when he stumbled away from the door and back against the opposite wall. 

“Oh God!  Oh God!”  His breath came in short quick spurts.  Terror filled his eyes.  “What...what the hell was that?  What happened to me?”

Dr. Merrill had taken several backward steps herself when the giant suddenly howled in agony.  

“Mr. McKenny, what happened?  Are you all right?”

He couldn’t keep the fear from sweeping through him now and could hear it in his voice. 

“It...felt like a red hot needle went through my left eye!” 

Pushing himself free of the wall, he stepped toward the door, gingerly testing each step as if on the thinnest of ice.  As he came within an arm’s distance and slowly extended his hand toward it, a sudden desperate grunt escaped him and forced his retreat again to the opposite wall.

As if reading his thoughts, the doctor walked to the door and without hesitation, opened it as if to say, ‘See, I’m not affected.’ 

Again, he edged toward the now open exit only to fall back as another pain lanced through his head. 

“What the hell have you done to me?”  Panic fueled his voice. 

Doctor Merrill closed the door, then came to stand by him.

“It is not I who is causing your pain, Mr. McKenny.”  She reached up and touched his sweating forehead. “What does it feel like?” 

“I told you
already
, like a hot needle right through my eye!”  

She appraised him for half a minute. “You seem different than when I met you last,” she stated flatly. 

“No shit, Doc,” he said, regaining some of his composure.  “Can’t you tell I'm back to normal?  That other guy’s just a bad memory now.”

“Interesting, Mr. McKenny.  Perhaps,” the doctor stepped toward her office, “we should spend some time,
talking
.”  Without waiting for a response, the elderly therapist walked toward her office.  With the pain in his head slowly retreating, McKenny reluctantly followed. 

Ollie exited Williams' office and after grabbing a cup of stale coffee, found agent Benson waiting at his desk.  The agent said nothing until Ollie had settled at his own desk and taken a sip of the astonishingly bad coffee. 

Benson finally spoke, “I need your help, Peidmont.”

Ollie sighed as he began trying to organize his much neglected work space.  “Haven’t we had this conversation already?”

Benson was unfazed. “Yes, we have, and I still need your help.”

He took another sip of coffee, set the cup down and looked at Benson.  “Carol Montoya was murdered by those thugs from  L.A., Benson.  It’s been days since we got the report matching their weapons with the bullets that killed her.  I’d say it’s pretty cut and dried.” 

“We know who pulled the trigger, Peidmont,” Benson said patiently. "Not who ordered her killed.  That’s where I think you can help.”  The agent pulled a small 4X6 glossy from his coat’s inside pocket and laid it before him.  The sideline shot of Jenny in her cheerleader outfit stopped Oliver’s heart cold.  “I believe you know Mrs. McKenny?”

“You might say we’ve gotten to know each other recently.”

Benson’s eyes twinkled. “Rumors have it that you’ve become very,
close
.” 

Oliver was suddenly very tired of Benson. 

“For you, Benson, anything.”  He picked up the photo and tucked it in a folder.  “I’ll do my best to get her autograph, but I can’t make any promises.”

Benson’s twinkle died. “Amusing, Peidmont, really!  Maybe that sense of humor will help when she’s serving a life sentence at Soledad.  That prison’s what, only thirty minutes from here?  You’ll be able to have weekly visits that last a whole half hour.”

Time for him to put up or shut up
, Oliver thought savagely.  “And you can help avoid that, Benson?’

“Possibly," Benson said, his tone suddenly warmer.  "If Mrs. McKenny were to cooperate with us in our investigation of JenelCo and provide some key documents, we might be able to give her immunity as a state’s witness.” 

Oliver stared impassively at Benson.  “What’s so special about these documents?” 

Benson was obviously preparing to spout the party line about secrecy when he thought better of it. 

“Carol Montoya was an agent for the FBI, working undercover at JenelCo when she was killed.  We recruited her at your local college as she earned her A.A. degree.  Carol had in her possession, documents that could prove devastating to what we suspect is a special breed of crime syndicate.”

Oliver laughed. “Come on, Benson, you can do better than that.  Organized crime is on the way out.”

“You’re right, Peidmont,” Benson’s face grew deadly serious.  “It is on the way out.  But crime, like many things, changes according to its environment.  Sometimes it even evolves.”

“Now that’s a novel concept,” Oliver smirked.  “An evolved criminal.” 

Benson ignored him.  “I spoke with Mrs. McKenny this morning, had a hell of a time getting in to see her.” 

Good
! thought Oliver.

“However, I feel that if someone...close to her explains the situation, a cop she trusts perhaps.  She may be more open to helping us and perhaps, herself.”  Benson stood and placed an austere looking business card on a stack of folders before him.  “Call me at this number if she decides to cooperate.” 

Oliver picked up the nondescript card, “And if I can’t convince her?”

“Then she’ll stand trial for a double homicide,”  Benson pulled his car keys from his coat pocket.  “Our hands will be tied.”              

The Consortium phone arrived at Jeffers’ office around four and from its appearance, he wasn’t sure he liked it.  About twice as large as a typical cell phone, it did seem normal enough. Not that different, really, from the newer, larger phones which had come out in the last year. 

What he didn’t like was its
weight
.  At about half a pound, he knew enough about recent technology to know that the device strapped to his belt could contain enough explosive to level a small building.  Suddenly becoming President of JenelCo seemed less enticing.

Sitting at Jenel’s old desk around four-thirty and feeling very much the weight of his new leash, his heart nearly stopped when his new phone vibrated against him.  After a moment to still his breath, he pulled the device from his belt and found himself staring at Ms. Thompson, alongside Caldwell in the small display.  Both seemed to enjoy his obvious reaction. 

“I’m glad you received our little toy, Mr. Jeffers.” Caldwell’s inch high image spoke through a miniaturized speaker.  “This technology is completely secure and reliable
wherever
you find yourself and is just one of the benefits of our
united
venture.” 

Jeffers understood now the reason for the device’s weight and tried to keep from showing just how impressed he was.  He also recalled the many times Jenel had left a room before responding to a call. 

“Quite a trick,” he replied offhandedly.  “Real time cellular HD video.  Perhaps you’ll show me how it works one day.”

Ms. Thompson’s smile, though small, still held a carnivorous element. 

“All in good time, Mr. Jeffers, however, we first need to continue our research into what you’ve told us.  So far, everything looks as it should.”

“Anything I can do to help, Ms. Thompson.”

“Call me Barbara,” she offered with a slight moistening of her lips.  “We need check only a few more items before we get to know each other...in person.” 

From the look she’d sent just before signing off, the cost of her vote would be at least a couple of steamy nights with her.  Not an unpleasant prospect, he decided. 

He picked up the phone and dialed, settling back in Jenel’s old chair. The courthouse operator came on.

“Paul Jeffers for District Attorney Sullivan.” 

A moment later, Sullivan picked up the phone as he finished motivating an employee. 

“...you got one last time to get it fucking right, Brenda!” he heard Sullivan yell, “or start looking for another job.” 

Jeffers listened quietly as he heard the sounds of  weeping fade from Sullivan’s office. 

“Jack, yeah, it’s Paul, I think it’s time we end this McKenny situation.”

Jenny was awake when he came in, drinking her dinner through a straw and not looking happy about it. He could see some color had returned to her cheeks and the blood cleaned from her hair as well, though her pretty face was still puffy and marked by bluish looking bruises.  She gave him a weak smile as he came up alongside her, finishing what looked to be a protein drink of some kind.

“Doctor Grant says I’ll have to drink liquids for several weeks, maybe longer,” Jenny sighed, reading his mind.

“Sounds…
yummy
,” he said, picking up the drink.

“
What
in Sam hill do you think you’re doing
?” A husky voice called out from behind him as he was about to take a sip. 

He turned to find a nurse, African American and fairly large, standing with one hand holding the door wide, a deep scowl upon her face.

“Wanda!"  Jenny instantly grew excited. "Come meet my hero!!”

'Wanda' stormed over to Oliver, pulling the drink from his hands. 

"So...you’re the Lover Boy, eh?" she said, handing the small drink container back to Jenny without taking her eyes off Oliver. 

"Well, you may be cute, and fancy at catching criminals, but you got a lot to learn about infections.”  She waved at the drink Jenny was now dutifully sipping. “Unless you want to make my Jenny worse, you best go get a hamburger somewhere.”

Oliver held up both hands in surrender.  “You win, Wanda, I won’t even kiss her if you say so.”

Wanda, somewhat appeased, placed both hands on her hips.

“Well, alright then,” she said, smoothing her uniform absently.  “Just don’t be giving her any of those
deep
kisses just yet, you hear, boyfriend!  You save those for
later
.”  She turned to Jenny, lifting the drink off the tray she'd just set it down on. “Now, Jenny...you finish up that drink.  We got to keep plenty of fluids going into you.” 

Reluctantly, Jenny picked up the container and slowly sipped from it.  Satisfied, Wanda shot Oliver a quick smile before bustling from the room.

“She’s the mother I always wanted,” Jenny released the straw from her mouth.

“I think she’s the mother every kid wants.  In fact,” he turned toward the door, “do you think she’d adopt me if I asked real nice?”  He was ready to go on but could see real laughter would be painful for her. 

Resting her head on the pillow, Jenny reached toward a small plastic device latched to her bed.  “An injured girl’s best friend,” she said, turning the dial on the box-shaped meter.  “If the pain starts to really bother me, I just turn this dial and soon I’m feeling
real
good.”  He pulled up a chair next to her and took her hand in his.

“Boyfriend, eh?" he said, grinning like a school boy.  "I like the sound of that.“

“Best I could do, being a married woman and all.”