A Breath of Dead Air (The Mysteries of Bell & Whitehouse Book 8) (4 page)

“
A
rrested
? Why? What did he do?”

Alice sagged a little. She and Fee had taken their customary booth by the window, while Fee’s mom had taken up position behind the counter. This was a task usually awarded to her cousins, but Busby and Bancroft were still in Los Angeles, trying to make it big in the world of the jet set, respectively as personal trainer and stylist to Tinseltown’s frequent highfliers.

“It’s the alcohol that did him in,” she said.

Fee slung a hand before her mouth. “Oh, no. Don’t tell me he’s taken to drink!”

“Well, no, he hasn’t, really. At least I don’t think so.”

“But then why did your father arrest him?”

“He’s been selling booze. Illegally. Without a license, I mean.”

“Oh, dear.”

Fee seemed disappointed. She’d probably expected Uncle Mickey had gone over to the dark side, mopping up the stuff like a vacuum cleaner and making a perfect spectacle of himself in public. Problem was that Happy Bays, not a town known for its gun nuts, was all gunned out, which presented gun store owners like Uncle Mickey with a problem. Every gun nut who was legally permitted to own his or her own peashooter at this point did. In other words, business had been excruciatingly slow of late. So Uncle Mickey had come up with the great idea of supplementing his income by selling the one article guaranteed to fly off the shelves: hard liquor.

And since he was on a roll he’d decided to add some extra profit to his moth-riddled pockets by avoiding to pay liquor tax. The idea had proved a big hit with the locals, and money had started rolling in by the bucketload.

For Alice, too, it had proved lucrative, as Uncle Mickey had given her a very generous commission. Not that she enjoyed going through life as a purveyor of liquor, but she didn’t have much of a choice. It was either that or quit her job, and she couldn’t very well afford to be out of work at this point.

She and Fee had recently gotten involved with a guy called Brian Rutherford, who ran a big corporation out of New York, and in his spare time liked helping ghosts. But the ghost hunting business was slow at the moment, and no new assignments had been forthcoming for a while now.

And to make matters worse, Alice’s second job, as a mortician’s assistant at her Uncle Charlie’s funeral parlor, was on a downward slope as well.

“My dad’s gone and boarded up Mick’s Pick,” she lamented, “so I’m down to one job, and even that seems to be going nowhere. Uncle Charlie’s even given me the week off.” She spread her arms. “What’s going on in this town? Nobody’s buying guns, and nobody’s dying!”

“Most people would consider that a good thing,” Fee pointed out.

She took a bite from her chocolate croissant, and Alice followed her example.

“So what are you gonna do?”

Alice shrugged. “Find another job, I guess.”

“What about Reece?”

“What about him?” She knew what Fee meant, though. Reece was a bona fide movie star and could easily take care of her. If she wanted to, she’d never have to work again. But that wasn’t what she wanted. She’d been independent ever since leaving the parental nest and was proud of the fact.

Fee said she understood. She was the same way. Even though Rick was making great coin lately, she refused to be a kept woman.

“You should come and work here,” Fee finally suggested. “I mean, with Busby and Bancroft gone we could sure use an extra hand. And when Mom and Dad retire, you could come in full-time. We could even be partners.”

Alice thought about this. She and Fee had discussed this scenario many times. Working at the mortuary and the gun store had always been a temporary solution. Her life’s dream was to be a cop, like her dad, who was Happy Bays’s chief of police. Unfortunately, she’d failed police academy.

“I could try,” she said hesitantly. “It would just be waiting tables, right?”

“Sure. Same thing Busby and Bancroft did.”

“Because you know I can’t bake.”

“I know, honey. And don’t worry. I will never ask you to bake. For now, my dad and uncle are still here, and whenever they retire, I’ll take over.”

Fee’s father had been scoping out Florida retirement communities but was held back by his wife, who didn’t want to retire yet. She had vetoed any move to Florida, no matter how desperately Pete wanted out. She said she’d be damned if she was going to leave her family when Fee hadn’t even produced her first grandchild yet.

Bianca Bell was looking forward to her daughter’s wedding and hoped to be around long after Fee and Rick announced the first Bell-Dawson baby. Pete would just have to wait until that auspicious moment for his retirement.

“I could do that,” said Alice thoughtfully. It would mean more money in her pocket, and the opportunity to work with her best friend. “But you’ll have to teach me. I don’t know the first thing about running a bakery.”

“Easy peasy,” Fee said, visibly pleased.

“Well, all right then,” said Alice, perking up. Uncle Charlie had pretty much given her to understand he wouldn’t be needing her for a bit, until the death rate picked up again, and Uncle Mickey never did need her much in his store anyway. And now that her father had put him out of business…

The two friends put down their croissants, and shook pinkies on it, and next thing Alice knew, Fee was pressing a red-striped apron into her hands.

Bell’s Bakery & Tea Room was just that: a bakery with a tea room attached. Patrons came in either to buy their bakery wares and be off, or to stick around and consume their freshly baked pastry on-site. It was a winning combo and had put the Bell name on the Happy Bays map. And then there was the fact that Pete Bell’s baking skills never disappointed. As a human being, the man might be hard to digest, but he was a genius baker, as his father and grandfather before him had been.

Alice smiled when she recognized a familiar face stepping into the store. It was her fiancé. Reece was home from LA, enjoying a break from filming his latest blockbuster. The Hollywood hunk, dark hair mussed up, brown eyes flickering with good-naturedness and his jawline so sharp you could use it to whet a blade, was decked out in frayed jeans and a black T-shirt stretched taut over his bulging chest. As usual, he looked super yummy.

“Hey, babe,” he said, greeting her with a peck on the lips.

She whirled around in her new apron. “Guess what?”

“What?”

“I’m Bell’s newest acquisition.”

“That’s great, babe,” he said, but something in his manner told her that he wasn’t really paying attention. His eyes flitted about the room until they landed on a female who sat nibbling from an almond scone in a corner booth.

Reece muttered something, and Alice watched him stalk off and approach the female. A pang of jealousy rippled through her, and she watched, arms crossed, as he took a seat, and started hobnobbing with the woman.

And then she recognized her. Jezebel Baskerville. She was the host of Temptation Town. The reality show featured a weekly changing roster of seductresses trying to induce married men to cheat on their wives. Each season was filmed in a different small town, setting out to prove that men were an unreliable breed. Judging from the scores they were succeeding.

The fact that Jezebel was in town could only mean one thing: Happy Bays was next on the show’s hit list, and Reece was her intended target!

For crying out loud, he wasn’t even married yet!

Fee joined her, and asked, “Is that who I think it is?”

Alice merely nodded, her face grim.

“What is she doing here?”

“Take a guess.”

“If she’s going after Rick she’s got another thing coming.”

The two friends shared a look of determination. If this woman so much as pointed a finger at their men, there would be hell to pay, that look said.

R
ick eyed the interviewee intently
. It was a rare thing for him to snag an interview on such short notice, and with such a prominent figure to boot, but Senator Job Vickar probably needed the publicity—he was a politician, after all—and he’d responded extremely enthusiastically when Rick had called his office. As it happened, the senator owned a house in Riverdale, the Bronx, where he resided when he wasn’t back home in Illinois addressing his caucus.

Rick hadn’t wanted to pursue the Pinocchio Bill story, but his editor had been adamant. Apparently Job Vickar really meant business when he’d set out to transform the political world, and Murphy Roops wasn’t the only one he’d rattled with his determination. And the man proved everything his editor had told him he’d be: avuncular, garrulous and eager to talk about his bill.

And as the senator lit up a pipe, Rick looked on in fascination. No one smoked a pipe these days. Certainly not indoors and certainly not when meeting with members of the press. But Vickar wasn’t just anybody. He was a bit of a rebel and liked to confound expectations. He was in his fifties, though judging from his lined face, veiny, bulbous nose and shock of white hair, he looked nearer to sixty. His feet were shod in a pair of monogrammed velvet slippers, and he was wearing a burgundy silk dressing gown.

What had actually convinced Rick to pursue the story was Bomer’s revelation that the feds thought he’d set up a slush fund to secretly finance the senator. Coming upon the Roops interview, this had sparked Rick’s curiosity. He now decided to use his customary subtle approach. Use tact and cunning to ease the senator into revealing the truth. “So, Senator Vickar,” he said therefore, keenly tapping his pencil against his teeth, “what’s all this I hear about you accepting twenty million dollars from CalypsoCo?”

The senator seemed perturbed by this, for the ruts on his brow quickly turned into trenches. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“The FBI arrested Baldemar Calypso this morning, son of CalypsoCo founder and president Grover Calypso.” He leaned forward. “My sources have revealed that they’re accusing him of embezzling money amounting to twenty million dollars to set up a slush fund in your name. All of it CalypsoCo money you’ve illegally appropriated for your own personal use.”

The senator appeared genuinely surprised. “I can assure you I don’t know anything about that, Mr. Dawson. I’m not in the market for bribery and most definitely not from CalypsoCo.” He barked a curt humorless laugh. “I think I’d know if suddenly twenty million dollars found its way into my bank account. US senators might be well-rewarded, but we’re not
that
well-rewarded.” Then he pointed a finger at Rick. “You know what this is, son? A smear campaign, pure and simple. They’re trying to slander me with this ridiculous accusation. Make it appear as if I’ve done something wrong. I know nothing about this Calypso fella, and you can quote me on that.”

“So the FBI haven’t contacted you yet?”

“No, they haven’t. But if they had, I would tell them the same thing I’m telling you. I don’t take money from big business for the simple reason I don’t want my hands tied. I don’t want to be kept from doing my job as a US senator: serving the people of this great nation of ours. I don’t take bribes or handouts, son, and that’s a fact everybody on the Hill knows about me.” He laughed. “And one of the reasons they don’t like me very much up there!”

“Yes, let’s talk about this Truth Bill of yours,” said Rick. “I’m told you have a person who can discern whether someone is telling the truth or not?”

“I do,” confirmed Senator Vickar with a nod of the head. “A very talented young lady with a keen knack for being a human lie detector of sorts.”

“And who might this young lady be, Senator?”

The senator’s blue eyes sparkled. “Now wouldn’t you like to know!”

“Yes, I would,” Rick agreed. “I would like to know very much, actually, and I’m pretty sure the rest of America would like to know as well.”

“Well, I’m keeping her under my hat for the time being, son, so you’ll have to wait and see—you and the rest of America—until I feel the time is right. All I can say is that she’s smart as a whip and both humbled and eager to take on this momentous task.”

“But…” Rick shook his head. “With all due respect, sir, surely there’s no such thing as a human lie detector. I mean, just the idea… it’s preposterous.”

Even though he believed in ghosts and even owned a ghost dog, there were certain things that were simply impossible. And just as he knew that politicians liked to skew the truth, he also knew that it was impossible to catch them at it, short of subjecting them to an actual lie detector test.

“Just you wait and see,” said the senator, steepling his fingers. “You’re in for a big surprise, son. And so is the entire political class. If they think they can get away with lying and cheating, they’ve got another thing coming.”

“But how will you prove it?” Rick asked. “I mean, let’s just assume, for argument’s sake, that this mystery woman of yours can do what you claim, how can she prove that she’s right?”

“Now there you touch upon the cornerstone of my plan, Dawson.”

“Rick, please.” He was beginning to like this bozo. He wasn’t like any other politician he’d ever interviewed. For one thing, he actually seemed to believe in what he was saying. Not just spewing verbiage for the sake of it.

“Rick,” acknowledged the old man, “the young lady isn’t merely capable of detecting a lie. She can also discern truths far deeper than any of us can.”

“But… how?” Rick was surprised even to hear the senator speak these words. It was more something he’d expect Brian Rutherford to say, the only other person he knew who believed in the supernatural as it intersected with ordinary everyday life. He just hoped—though he couldn’t quite fathom how—that the senator was right, and that this mystery woman really existed.

“I’ve known the young lady in question for a long time,” Vickar said, “and I, too, am amazed by the accuracy of her statements.” He abruptly stood. “Come,” he said, after a moment’s hesitation. “Let me show you something.”

Rick followed the senator as he disappeared through a connecting door into his study. A white grand piano dominated the room, and bookcases lined the walls. Job Vickar walked over to a sitting nook, picked up a remote from the coffee table and pressed a button. A section of the wood-paneled wall behind him slid open to reveal a flatscreen. Pretty cool.

“Watch this,” said the senator in a raspy voice as he clicked the TV to life. Footage of a tawny puppy appeared, playing and frolicking around a copse of trees. “This was captured by one of the security cameras out back.”

As Rick watched, a frisbee appeared out of nowhere, then was yanked away again, obviously attached to a string. The little doggie didn’t waste any time and raced off into the hedge to capture the frisbee, then disappeared.

“That was the last I ever saw of him,” said the senator, his voice cracking. “This footage is from yesterday morning, just before Pronto was taken.”

“Your puppy was kidnapped?” Rick asked, aghast. His own father’s dog had disappeared as well, not that long ago. When finally his lifeless remains were found, it turned out he’d been chased by pet thieves before suffering a stroke. Unbeknownst to Rick’s dad, Spot now lived with Rick as his ghost pet.

The senator nodded, sadness in his eyes. “I’ve talked to the police, and so far there’s no trace of little Pronto. So I asked the young woman at the heart of my Truth Bill to probe into the matter, and she did. It only took her a couple of minutes to find out what happened. Apparently, my precious pup was taken by a couple of guys calling themselves the Pet Bandits. And as it happens they operate out of Happy Bays.” He directed a moody stare at Rick. “Your hometown, Rick, if I’m not mistaken.”

Rick started violently. This wasn’t possible. “But I know the Pet Bandits,” he cried. “They tried to snatch my father’s dog.”

The senator nodded. “I read all about that. Which is why I granted you this interview.” He hesitated. “The trouble is that without proof I can’t send the police after these Pet Bandits. I will look like a kook if I do. But I know for sure these guys are holding my dog. My young protégée is never wrong.”

“So what are you going to do now?”

“I’ve sent her down to Happy Bays. She will dig up the truth and bring Pronto back to me. That’s a promise.”

Rick thought for a moment. He knew Jerry and Johnny not to be overly dangerous crooks, but even he had to admit they could be ruffians from time to time. He keenly remembered how Johnny had knocked him out cold during one of their first meetings, simply so he could obtain Rick’s laptop.

“Are you sure that’s such a good idea?” he asked. “I mean, these men are hardened crooks—I know from experience. They might hurt your assistant.”

“So what do you suggest? Pronto’s mother was a present from my wife—God rest her soul. I had her for twenty years until she passed away a couple of weeks ago. Pronto was part of her last litter. I love the little bugger, Rick.”

Rick made a decision. “I’ll help find your dog, sir,” he declared solemnly.

The senator’s face lit up, and he produced the smile that had endeared him so much to the good people of Illinois. “Will you do that for me, son?” Then his smile disappeared, and he shook his head. “I really can’t expect this from you, Rick. You said it yourself; it’s way too dangerous. And I should call back B—I mean I should tell my protégée to drop the search. I’m sure these Pet Bandits will contact me sooner or later to issue their ransom demands.” He sighed. “I just hope they won’t harm my Pronto. He’s just a baby.”

“I’m not just doing this for you, Senator,” Rick said. “If I manage to get Pronto back to you I want the scoop on your human lie detector. Let me be the first to interview her.” He held up his hand when Vickar started to protest. “I won’t reveal her identity, and I’ll only print the interview with your permission. What do you say, Senator? Do we have a deal?”

Senator Vickar looked at the images of his dear Pronto prancing off into the hedge and blinked away a tear. Then he took Rick’s hand and shook it warmly. “Mr. Dawson—Rick—yes, we have a deal. In fact, you can do the interview now if you like. As I said, she’s in Happy Bays right now, taking care of some other business besides finding my dog.” He swiftly picked his phone from his pocket, brought up a number, and dictated it to Rick, who eagerly jotted down the digits. Then he pressed Rick’s arm fondly. “If you bring Pronto back to me, I’ll be forever in your debt, son.”

Rick grinned. “That’s all right, Senator. It is I who will be in your debt once this article is published.” He tapped his notebook with his pencil. “One last thing… About this CalypsoCo affair? Full disclosure, sir. Bomer Calypso is one of my best friends, not to mention my brother-in-law. And I’m pretty sure he had nothing to do with this money affair either. He’s—” He hesitated. “Let’s just say Bomer’s not the brightest bulb in the bulb shop. He wouldn’t even know where to begin to embezzle twenty million dollars.”

The senator rubbed his chin. “Like I said, I think this whole thing is a setup. Once the Truth Bill is up and running, it’s going to expose a lot of lies and deceit. Even the president won’t be safe from its scrutiny. You can well imagine that a lot of people who don’t want their secrets known are going to come after me. I’m sure this is only their first attempt to discredit me.” He nodded seriously. “But I won’t back down. I will find out who’s behind this, and I will reveal their names. And then they will suffer the consequences.”