Authors: Lynde Lakes
She turned to her computer, typed in her code and entered the Homicide Information And Tracking System that contained data on all the murders in the State of California. Nothing came up on Gordy Angelo or Bill Smith. Next, she began to look for occurrences where names appeared on more than one list. She saved some and discarded others. She had just cleared her computer screen when her SAC unit chief came into her office.
“How’re you feeling?” Ray’s eyes gentled with concern.
Jill leaned back in her chair and stretched. “A little stiff and sore. But I’ll live.”
“Relieved to hear that. You’ll need your strength for this!” Ray waved the newspaper. “Read Clark’s account of our raid on the video studio. He called us a bunch of gun-toting, jack-booted, bungling idiots.”
Jill scanned the page. The slam against The Bureau was brutal, but well written. She shrugged, unwilling to let on how much the story irked her. “He didn’t give away any clues.”
Ray leaned forward on her desk. A flush crept up from his neck. “Maybe not this time. But who can say what that poison-penned renegade will do next.”
She tucked her hair behind her ear. “I’ll handle it.”
He folded his arms and glared at her.
“I will,” she promised.
But how?
Ray leveled his stern gaze at her. “We can’t let Clark mess up this investigation. We’re a long way from making our findings available to the press.”
He gave her his rock-wilting look. But she didn’t flinch. There were two camps that Bureau agents fell into, those who asked permission to do everything and those who seldom asked permission for anything. Her unit chief fell in the latter because he liked to get things accomplished. She did too, and Jill knew he respected her for it. She decided to use his rare moment of vulnerability. “Maybe if I told Dane what we have so far—”
Ray’s jaw tightened. “Give him the story? Maybe you could type it for him too. Then sell his dammed papers on the corner!”
She kept her voice calm. “Dane knows I’m holding out, so he’s doing the same to me. Today I almost missed a lead by keeping things to myself. And yesterday my holding back almost got us both killed.”
“Stay away from him, Jill.”
“You ordered me to hold back and I did. But now I’m playing it as I see fit. Tess’ life depends on it!”
Ray paused in the doorway, grim-faced. “Think about it, Jill. Rather than saving your sister’s life, a wrong judgment call might end up taking it. Could you face that?”
Chapter Eighteen
Jill paused in the doorway of the deceased model’s apartment and stared at the opened drawers and jumble of papers and files, scattered about the floor. Books, stripped from the shelves and flung in every direction, joined the crazy mosaic.
“It looks like whoever tore up this place knew about Charmaine’s journal,” Jill said.
Gary, who was right behind her, removed his mirrored sunglasses and whistled. “The landlord didn’t mention anything about this. I’d better tell him the bad news.”
Jill nodded.
The stale, musty air carried a hint of lilac. Probably Charmaine’s favorite scent. Jill stepped over broken glass from a framed family picture. The place would have to be cleaned up before Charmaine’s mother and brother came to claim her belongings. If they had to face this mess it would be another knife in their hearts.
She turned. The hazy morning sun peeked over the drooping marigolds in the window box. Charmaine wasn’t here to give them water. She never would be again.
Jill blinked back a rush of tears. Where was her control? She opened her cellular and dialed. She had to report the break-in and request a lab team.
That done, she slipped on her plastic gloves and began going through the clutter. Judging by the mess, she suspected the intruder hadn’t found the journal. That was a plus.
She turned at the sound of footsteps at the door. Her mouth went dry. “Dane!”
“What happened here?” he asked.
His gaze swept the room and paused on the drooping marigolds in the window box. A sadness flickered in his eyes, followed by an enraged brightness. Then a veil dropped. The depth of his grief and the impact of his dark good looks hit her in two powerful waves—for an instant she was stunned.
Then it registered. She was supposed to meet him at
The Chronicle
offices in an hour, not in Charmaine’s apartment.
Earlier she’d seen grief and anger in his expression, now he was joking. This man turned his emotions on and off like a faucet. Was that how he got through the misery unscathed? Sometimes sensitive people masked their emotions with a coping lightness that might seem inappropriate to others.
Dane flipped on his recorder. “You said
search.
For what?”
Did he know about the journal?
“Why is it that you’re never far from the trouble?”
“Who knew you were coming here?” he asked.
Jill forced herself not to step back from his inching nearness. She tapped her foot. “What I’d like to know is what brought
you
here.”
“I try to anticipate the killer’s next move. Then dig out the facts.” His voice was irritatingly confident.
“Not here, you won’t!”
Dane looked down at a bent photograph lying on the floor. It was of Charmaine and a kitten. By the way he was staring at the photo, Jill was afraid he was going to pick it up and get his prints all over it. His fists opened and closed.
Suddenly, his mood shifted again and he framed his eyes as if he held a camera to them and did a click, click gesture. “Mind if Sammy takes a few pictures?”
Inside was a pile of ashes.
Damn. If that was the journal, a potentially crucial lead had been wiped out forever.
****
In the
Chronicle
parking lot, Dane hurried toward Jill. The sight of his tall, lean frame hit her hard.
He’s trouble
, she reminded herself.
Bad news, an opportunist
. Just as soon as they talked with Tess’ classmates at the university, she would omit him from the information loop.
Sure, that would give him his big story.
She rubbed her temple to ward off a headache. Fighting with him wasn’t the way to get his cooperation. She had to do better. At least for this afternoon.
Her decision made, the drive to the university was almost pleasant. The sun was bright, the sky a clear blue.
Like a boomerang, her tension returned when they entered the video class. She hadn’t expected to see Sammy there. He and Dane exchanged closed glances.
What did that mean?
She temporarily squelched her concerns as Dane introduced her to all Tess’ classmates while her hidden recorder took down names and places. The interviews produced enough potential leads to keep her and Gary busy for days. The trouble was, she didn’t have days.
Now, as she and Dane waited for Professor Craig Mansell in his office, her tension returned. She leaned forward. “I didn’t know Sammy was in your video class.”
Were the two newspapermen in something illegal together?
“There’s no mystery,” Dane said. “It’s like I told you, he’s been helping me with the video story.”
A monotonous tap tap tap of a typewriter in the outer office tightened Jill’s already taut nerves. “What’s Sammy like to work with?”
“He’s a jerk, but a hell of an assistant. He knows his way around film. But don’t get all worked up over Sammy.”
Why not?
she wondered. Her profile on the killer matched some of the newsman’s traits. And he was skilled enough to make the videos. But so were others. “Does Gordy Angelo miss class often?”
If only she believed that. She stood and went to the window. Outside, the sun filtered through the needles of a tall pine tree. Could Tess see the sun, feel it on her face?
Jill turned and scanned the professor’s office, looking for anything out of the ordinary. The antique electric train on a side table was the only surprise. His walls were covered with the usual certificates and plaques. Books and files stood tall and lined up to perfection. The man who worked here had an organized mind. So did the video killer.
Jill sat down again. Would the professor provide the missing link or would it come from one of the students?
Professor Mansell entered the room looking confident. He was slim with brown hair, and wore his beard cut close to the chin. In his early fifties, Jill guessed. He favored Jill with an engaging smile, the kind impressionable female students could easily fall for.
“This is my friend, Jill,” Dane said. “She’s working with me on my projects.”
Jill noticed that Dane had purposely avoided using her last name. She hoped Mansell wouldn’t pick up on it.
The professor’s clothing was the same color as his hair. Even the patches on his sweater were brown. Here was a man who wanted to blend into the scenery. But couldn’t.
“I’m delighted.” Mansell stuck his pipe in his mouth and absently patted his pockets, searching for a match. He paused and studied Jill’s face. “You look very familiar.”
Jill clutched her hands in her lap, wishing the explanation could be that simple. Gary had already obtained the names of the absent students. Besides Tess and a girl named Lisa Cramer, there was Wang Siu, Butch Conley and Gordy Angelo. Jill shivered. All three men were co-tenants on the studio lease.
Mansell stroked his neatly trimmed beard. “Maybe Tess decided to go to Monterey with Butch after all.”
Dane exchanged glances with Jill. “What do you mean, after all?”
“I overheard her turn Butch down. Tess seemed emphatic about her answer, but Butch was quite insistent. Perhaps she changed her mind.”