Ashes To Ashes: Ashton Ford, Psychic Detective (11 page)

A "conservator" is someone appointed by a
court to manage the affairs of a mental incompetent.

Through all of this, Karen stands woodenly
with head bowed. As she is being helped into the limousine,
though, she swivels her head to stare directly at me. Our eyes
clash for maybe a tenth of a second and then she is inside and the
car is moving. I am left with an electric jolt racing through my
nerve tissue and I know that she knows what is happening to
her.

One of Kalinsky's men comes over to me, a
guy I now know as Herbert, to give me an edge on the flow.

"She will be booked on a preliminary charge
of simple manslaughter and immediately released to Mr. Kalinsky's
custody."

I said, "That's nice."

"Mr. Kalinsky will be wanting a conversation
with you immediately upon his return from the police station."

I said, "That's fine."

"You are to make no further statements to
the police or to the press unless Mr. Kalinsky is present."

I said, "That's right."

But as soon as Herbert spun on a military
toe and marched away, I ambled over to the DA's man and told him,
"She didn't do it, you know."

He smiled at me and said,
"You are ... ?"

I smiled back as I replied, "I are the guy
who

found them out here, your principal material
witness."

"Mr. Ford."

"That's right. And apparently I found them
too quick. There is a time problem. It was a cute trick, but not
quite cute enough. Do you know what is at stake here?"

The guy went right on smiling as he told me,
"Yes, I do, Mr. Ford. I would say that my entire political career
is at stake here."

I said, "Too bad," and left the guy staring
at my back as I went on to the Maserati and got the hell away from
there.

I made a beeline to the Highland estate
while jotting down distance traveled for every compass heading and
trying to maintain a steady 30 mph pace. It took me just under
three minutes to hit the front gate, which figures about a mile and
a half of distance traveled via the most direct roadways.

The gate guard had nothing to tell me about
traffic through there before midnight since his shift had begun at
that time.

I put the Maserati in the same parking space
as before, but she was now the only vehicle in the area. Obviously
the party was over. I retrieved the Walther and tucked it inside
the waistband of my shorts, then went on toward the pool.

The service force was
busily restoring order to the patio-lounge area. The bartender who
helped me with Marcia was cleaning the island bar outside; he
looked up at my approach and recognized me with a smile so I
steered that way and went over to thank him for the assist, then I
asked him in a casual way when he had last seen Miss
Highland.

He replied that she had come into the lounge
at "a bit" past nine o'clock, apparently while the dinner guests
were dawdling over desserts, to check on the musicians and to make
sure that all was in readiness there.

"You haven't seen her since then?" I
asked.

He dropped his chin and leaned a bit closer
in the response. "No sir, not since then, but something very
strange has been going on around here the past couple of hours. I
think maybe Miss Highland had another one of her spells or
something. I mean, the whole executive staff is very uptight and
they sent the guests home early."

I thanked him and started away, then checked
myself and leaned back to inquire, very casually, "Mr. Kalinsky get
back yet?"

The guy gave me a blank look and replied, "I
wondered where he was, I mean I figured he was with Mrs. Kalinsky.
Haven't seen him since, uh, since I guess right after Miss
Highland."

"You mean since right after dinner."

"Yes sir, it—well, I guess more like about
nine-thirty. He was looking for her—Miss Highland—asked me if she'd
come through. Because by then the party had moved out here, you
know, here on the patio and in the game room. Because people were
dancing and—about nine-thirty, yes sir."

"He was in a dither," I suggested.

"Sure was."

I asked, "See Doc Powell around that same
time?"

The guy was beginning to wonder about all
these questions. He was getting an edge to the eyes and the body
language was definitely one of withdrawal. "Not since we pulled
Mrs. Kalinsky out of the pool, no sir."

I thanked him again and went on inside.

There was no sign of life whatever in the
executive wing. The operations center was shut down and darkened
except for a small nightlight at the back wall. I expected the
executive office to be locked, as well, but the doors were not even
closed, not even the one to the inner sanctum.

My unsigned contract still lay on the desk.
There was evidence, also, that Kalinsky had quit the place in a
hurry: an open cigarette humidor, a dead butt with an inch-long ash
still attached in the ashtray, a doodle pad with several used
sheets filled with hieroglyphics and detached, but not discarded;
more importantly, a lighted LED on the telephone console indicating
"Record Pause."

I studied the console for a moment, doped
it, rewound the tape through three brief conversations, and hit the
playback.

My own voice came through the speaker,
bearing the message of my grisly find out Stone Canyon.

Then Kalinsky cussing in a husky voice to
himself, then a dial-out followed by a brief and cryptic
conversation:

"Yeah."

Kalinsky: "Okay, it's hit. Meet me out front
in two minutes. Better bring the squad."

"Are we ready for this?"

"We better be. Where's Herb?"

"He's mobile."

"Okay, we'll catch him on the way. Better
bring Mac."

"He's been partying. May not be ready."

Kalinsky: "Fuck that, just bring 'im."

A hang-up, another dial-out, but already I
was beginning to sort the players. "Herb" was no doubt Herbert, one
of the security honchos; "Mac" was Macllliney or MacAllaney, the
lawyer who had hand-held Karen during the ordeal in my car.

The second call-out was much more cryptic
and even more brief:

"Yes, hello."

"This is TK. I need that package. Can you
get started?"

The other voice was cultured, mature, maybe
even silvery-haired. "You mean, right now? Do you know what time it
is?"

"We both better know what time it is. Get
started. I'll contact you on the mobile."

That was it. I removed the cassette and put
it in my pocket, replaced it with a blank, then gathered up the
doodles and took them, also, and got the hell out of there.

I wanted a moment with Marcia before
Kalinsky and his goons returned to the palace.

And maybe, time allowing, a shot at Doc
Powell's doodles.

Time allowing
...

The time factor had become all-important. As
important, probably, as life and death.

Chapter Thirteen:
Engineering

The Kalinsky quarters seemed to be a mirror
image of Karen's apartment, about the same size but reversed in
layout, and upstairs over the executive offices.

Marcia was propped up with pillows on a
large, overstuffed couch. She wore silk pajamas and a dressing gown
but was otherwise uncovered. A large-screen projection TV was
playing an old movie at murmuring volume. She seemed a bit pale but
otherwise looked none the worse for the near-drowning
experience.

I said, "How you doing?"

It was a different Marcia from the one I'd
known as she replied, "Much better now, thanks. I understand you
saved my life. Thanks."

I showed her a grin and a shrug. "Seemed the
thing to do."

She said, "You're a nice man. And I have
been a terrible jerk. Sorry."

I did not argue the point. I just said,
"Sure."

"Have they found Karen?"

I said. "Yeah. She's going to be okay."

"Thank God. It was a stupid thing I—did you
hear about that?"

I replied, "I heard a version. Like to hear
yours."

"Why?"

I said, "Karen is in deep trouble. She came
to me for help. I am trying to help. But I need a handle. What did
you say to her?"

Her gaze fell away and there was a brief
silence before she replied, "I'd had too much to drink, but I was
not that drunk. I went down to make sure the staff was properly
setting up for dinner. Then I thought I might as well take a quick
dip because there really wasn't time for me to bathe and all. As I
entered the pool, I saw Karen standing in the shadows by the diving
board. She was wearing her yellow bikini. I remember thinking, well
how 'bout that, she remembered her suit this time and she doesn't
really need it. I mean, we always skinny-dip here after dark. I was
looking for her as I came up, to see if she was coming in with me.
I was looking straight at her and she was looking straight at me. I
know our eyes were locked all during that horrible struggle."

I said, "What horrible struggle?"

"I could not get to the surface." She
shivered in the memory of it. "It was as though a hand was holding
me under and I could not escape it. I fought like the devil, let me
tell you, but no matter what I did there was always a few inches of
water above my head."

"How do you account for that?"

She shifted position slightly on the couch
and gave me a flash with the eyes. "Come on, now. How would you
account for it?"

I said, "I suppose you know my
background."

She replied, "I sure do. And I'm sure you
know what happened to me down there tonight."

I inquired, "Has Karen ever before, to your
direct knowledge, exhibited any such power?"

She immediately replied, "Nothing I can put
my finger on, no. I mean, nothing like that. But we've talked about
it. You know, telekinesis, telepathy, psychic phenomena. I've had
an interest in that stuff ever since Bridey Murphy. We've talked
about it a lot. And lately Karen has seemed almost obsessed with
it."

I said, "Has she spoken to you about her
ethereal companion?"

"Her what?"

"A spirit, or something, that comes to
her."

She said, "No, I have not heard of
that."

I said. "Tell me about Elena."

"Elena. God. She's been dead ten years."

"Did you like her?"

"Never really knew her. Look, I know what
happened to me tonight. It was dumb of me to yell at Karen that
way, but I damn sure knew what I was yelling about. She tried to
kill me."

"Why would she want to do that?"

"Beats the hell clear out of me. I'm the
only real friend she has had all these years."

"But you never really knew Elena. Why not?
She

was around for—what?—more than fifteen years
before she died? And you were here, too, most of that time?"

She said, "I was here all the time, but
Elena was not. Not much, anyway. Until that last year, and
then—well, we just were not together all that much."

I said, "If Elena was not here then, where
was she?"

"In institutions one after another, I
guess."

"What sort of institutions?"

"You know what sort of institutions."

"What was her problem?"

Marcia sighed, as though suddenly becoming
weary of the conversation. "I'd guess," she said quietly, "that JQ
was her Number One problem."

"How so?"

She sighed again and replied, "Look, don't
quote me on any of this. I don't know all of the facts and I doubt
that anyone now living knows all the facts. But it seems that JQ
never liked Elena. He was very upset by TJ's marriage, and I
believe he just never accepted it. So he could not very well accept
Elena, either, could he?"

"But he accepted Karen?"

"Absolutely doted on her. JQ's one soft spot
was that kid. He spent the final two years of his life, while he
knew he was dying of cancer, setting up his affairs so that most
everything would go directly to Karen instead of to his own
son."

I said, "That's
interesting. And now she is about to come into all that. Is that
what you had reference to when you told me, earlier tonight, that
things here would be changing soon?"

She said, "I told you that?"

I said, "Words to that effect. You also told
me that Terry was setting me up for something. We had a date for
ten o'clock—remember?—when you were supposed to tell me what I was
being set up for."

Marcia smiled a bit uncomfortably and said,
"Give a girl a break, eh? I drink too much. And I am not very smart
when I drink." She made a rueful face. "Well, what the hell—why
not? No, I probably had something else in mind when I mentioned big
changes. I'm leaving here next Saturday. And never looking
back."

That last bit gave me
pause. I said, "You mean ... you are leaving Terry? Or you are
both—?"

"You bet I am. Look, I was little more than
a kid, myself, when I came here. Now I'm practically a middle-aged
matron, and enough is enough. I made the commitment a long time ago
to stick it out here with Karen and now the commitment is
fulfilled. I'm leaving one week from tonight."

"Terry know about this?"

"No."

"Karen know about it?"

"No. That makes you my confidant, doesn't
it? So please honor it. I'll tell them my own way, in my own
time."

I said, "Sure."

She said, "Just you and Carl."

I said, "Carl knows?"

She replied, "He'd better. He's going with
me."

I thought but did not say, "Oh shit." I did
say, "You are not worried about Terry's reaction?"

"Of course we are worried about Terry's
reaction. But there is nothing he can do to stop it, now."

I told her, very quietly, "You could be
wrong about that, Marcia."