Freeze Frame (17 page)

Once the plot behind the murders and phony
suicides came out, our innocence would be obvious.

During the next day or so we’d contact the
police and FBI. Of course we couldn't just ride up to police
headquarters. We needed a plan and thankfully, I had awakened with
one. We’d have to wait for dark, but it included the perfect place
to hide; the one place absolutely no one would ever think of
looking for us.

66

Saturday 6:34 p.m.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

My ex-husband stood in the doorway of his
apartment wearing a white tee shirt, blue jeans and an astonished
expression.

"Don't make us stand in the hall." I breezed
past him, looking over my shoulder to see Garry move aside to let
Sean enter behind me.

"You two are crazy." Garry checked out the
hallway before closing the door.

"If we aren't, we will be by the time this
thing's over," I said. "Garry, this is Sean Higgins."

"I've seen his picture."

Neither offered his hand. It was obvious Sean
felt uneasy meeting my ex-husband.

"Aren't you going to invite us to sit down?"
I didn’t wait, plopping down on the brown leather sofa against the
wall. Given the evidence we had, I admit I felt a bit cocky.

From the couch, I saw most of downtown
Detroit through the picture window. The room itself: genuine Garry.
Besides the sofa, the only furniture was a recliner chair and an
entertainment center with its large-screen television. I guessed
the total contents of his refrigerator were probably a partial
six-pack of beer and leftovers from his last pizza.

"Do you understand how much trouble you're
in? Every police officer in town is looking for you, and more than
a few would just as soon have you dead as alive."

"Garry," I said, "we can not only prove our
innocence, but have evidence that next week’s Presidential election
has been compromised."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"That DVD with the Avion commercial on it.
Caponi and Cato were killed over it."

Garry looked at Sean. "The jury’s still out
on Cato. What about the DVD?"

"We found out why Caponi and Cato were
murdered, and why Manny Rodriguez was beaten."

Sean jumped in. "There's a subliminal message
on the DVD."

"A what?"

“Every twenty-ninth frame of the commercial
contains a printed message. VanBuhler's name and the word
'leadership.'"

"This is the same DVD I watched in your
conference room? I didn't see any subliminal message. Just broads
in bikinis and a car on the beach."

"That's the point," I said. "With the words
appearing every twenty-ninth frame, the human eye doesn't see it,
at least consciously. It registers in the subconscious."

"It's registering like pure BS to me."

"The CIA and FBI have conducted studies on
the effects of subliminal projection for years, Garry. It's very
real to them."

"What did you say the message was? Something
about VanBuhler and leadership?"

"The election’s days away,” I said.
“Someone's making sure Niles VanBuhler gets elected. If we're going
to stop them, we have precious little time."

My ex-husband listened as Sean and I took
turns explaining the events of the past week. We covered the
confrontations with Bacalla at Adams & Benson, the chase that
ended with the shooting of the policeman and, finally, the killings
at Lake Manuka.

“And who do you think is behind all this?"
The note of skepticism in Garry’s voice rang like a bad chord.

Till now, I hadn't told anyone about the
conversation on Sid Goldman’s patio, or about his granddaughter's
picture. But it was going to take all the ammunition we had to
convince Garry, so I told the story, complete with details.

"I gotta be honest with you," Garry said, "if
it wasn't you telling me this story, Darcy, I'd run you both
downtown right now."

"Garry, the DVD we're talking about is down
in the car," I said. "We have proof."

"Proof? That's no proof. Anyone in your
business could make that disc. You could have done it to create an
alibi."

"Garry, somebody's trying to mess with the
government of this country, and you..."

"Darcy, it doesn't matter what I believe.
Besides everything else that’s gone on, you two are accused of
killing a cop. There are people with a hell of a lot of power
putting on pressure to find you at any cost."

"The election's an eye blink away. What will
convince you?"

"It's not me you have to convince."

"What about Robert Bacalla?" Sean asked.
"Have you checked him out?"

Garry grimaced. Sean had struck a nerve.

"Well?" I asked.

"Bacalla's in Washington."

"Washington?" I couldn't believe it. "He’s a
murder suspect. What the hell's he doing in Washington?"

"He was a suspect. But after you two split,
VanBuhler's people started applying pressure to get the judge to
set bail. The fact that you two disappeared helped their case
immensely. We held both of them...Bacalla and Roland. We checked
records, prints, everything. Nothing suspicious on either. Roland
was even decorated in the Gulf War.”

"If they’re out on bail, isn't there a limit
on how far they can go?" asked Sean.

"Technically, yes."

"Technically? What do you mean, technically?"
Now I was shouting.

"VanBuhler's people again. Rumors say this
time it came from the top. Both men got orders back to
Washington."

"And you didn't stop them?"

“No one downtown asks my opinion. The Chief
and I aren’t exactly drinking buddies.”

"So now, you're going to arrest us?" Sean
said it more like a challenge than a question.

"You think I've got another choice, lay it on
me.”

"Help us check out Bacalla and Roland," I
said. "I’m sure they not only committed multiple murders, including
two phony suicides, but they're deeply involved in the
conspiracy."

"I'll consider it," Garry said. "Meanwhile,
as long as you're here, you'd better eat something.

"There's beer and part of a pizza in the
fridge."

67

Garry couldn't remember exactly when he had
ordered the pizza, a fact painfully obvious when he lifted the lid
of the flat cardboard box.

"I think you've created some new life forms
here, Kaminski," Sean said.

"Penicillin. With all the venereal disease
out there, a single guy can't be too careful."

Sean nodded and surprised me by smiling.

"I'll leave the penicillin to you Romeos," I
said. I pointed to the telephone number on the pizza box. "Me, I'm
ordering a new pizza. Cheese, pepperoni and mushrooms...and hold
the mold."

Waiting for the pizza, I had an idea. Using
Garry’s computer to access the national telephone directory, I
found the number of Margi Wallace, a woman I knew at the New York
office of Young & Rubicam, one of the agencies Bacalla claimed
to work for prior to Adams & Benson. Luckily, Margi was
spending this Saturday night at home with her boyfriend.

"Yeah, I remember Bob," Margi said after we
exchanged greetings. "Great guy, always good for a laugh. Too bad
about the accident."

"Accident?"

"You didn't know? Bob died in a car
accident."

"When's the funeral?"

"Funeral? What are you talking about? Bob
Bacalla died three years ago."

The pizza arrived as I finished the
conversation with Margi Wallace, and we huddled around Garry’s
kitchen table.

"If Bob Bacalla bought the farm three years
ago, who’s at Adams & Benson?" Garry was a master of the
rhetorical question.

"You took his fingerprints," I said. "They
didn't tell you anything?"

"Like I said, Roland was easy. A war hero,
for god's sake. But Bacalla? There was no record of the guy's
prints anywhere."

"Any other way of tracking him?" Sean asked.
"I mean finding out who this guy really is?"

"Might be. It's a long shot, though."

"What is it?" I asked.

"When we take fingerprints, we also do mug
shots."

"Yeah?"

"Well, there's sort of a computerized mug
shot book. You scan the suspect's photo into the computer, and it's
compared with photographs of known criminals. All over the world,
if you need it."

"Can you do it?" Sean asked.

"Yeah."

"Tonight?" I asked.

"Tonight?" Garry checked his watch. "It's ten
minutes to ten."

"It's also ten minutes to police
headquarters," I said. "And less than two weeks to the
election."

Garry shrugged. "Let me finish this
pizza.”

***

I followed Garry to the door. "Thanks for
putting up with Sean. He may not be the most diplomatic person in
the world, but he's really very sweet."

"You two got something going?"

"Is it that obvious?"

"Nah, call it a cop's intuition."

"Yeah, I know. Good luck. There's a lot
riding on what you find."

68

I began to worry
.

Garry had been gone an hour on an errand that
should have taken thirty minutes at most.

Sean and I passed the time watching a cable
news report of the campaign. The polls showed the President
regaining a narrow lead over VanBuhler, with the Democratic
challenger still a distant third. The report was sprinkled with
sound bites of the three candidates addressing crowds in Chicago,
Muncie and Indianapolis. VanBuhler had a ready smile to go with his
glib comments and made-for-the-camera good looks.

The media adored him, but I wondered what
they’d say if they knew the truth.

As the report from the campaign trail ended,
I found myself watching the clock. What could be taking Garry so
long?

"I'm going down to the car to get our
clothes," I said.

“I'll go, too. I don't think it's smart for
you to go alone."

"We're more likely to be recognized
together.”

"Then I'll go.”

"You're too easy to spot. I can put my hair
up in a scarf, and pull it over my face.

“See?"

"Okay,” Sean said, “but if you're not back in
five minutes, I'm coming after you."

"I'll be quick. You hear me knocking, let me
in. I don't want to stand out in the hall."

69

Higgins stood behind the door as Darcy left,
to avoid being seen from the hallway. Once she was gone, he
returned to the sofa and the news.

Minutes passed when he heard hard, fast
knocking. Darcy was either awfully fast, or had forgotten
something. The knocking came again as he approached the door. Again
standing behind the door, he grabbed the handle and pulled it
toward him. A feminine shape breezed past.

"
Lord almighty!
I thought you were
going to make me stand out there all night in this," she said as
she flew by.

Only after Higgins closed the door did he
realize it wasn't Darcy. The woman had her back to him, and her
hair was long and blonde, not brunette. She wore a bright red
lingerie outfit straight from one of those sexy catalogs. And while
he hadn't yet seen her face, he could definitely see her cheeks. If
this was Victoria, she wasn't hiding any secret.

"Surpri..." the woman began to shout,
whirling around, arms in the air. Against all laws of physics, she
seemed to halt in mid-air, her jaw dropping open as she saw
Higgins.

"Who the hell are you?" The woman landed in a
crouch, folding her arms in front of her in an attempt to shield
her ample breasts.

She needed bigger arms.

"I...I'm Sean Higgins. Who the hell are
you?"

The woman started to answer, but another
knock cut her short.

70

Standing in the hallway, it seemed forever
before Sean opened the door. I ran in, a suitcase in each hand.

"I made it all the way without..." I stopped
dead, dropping the suitcases on the floor. Sean stood next to a
nearly naked and very buxom blonde. “What the hell’s going on
here?”

"Maybe I should be asking you two what you're
doing in my fiancé’s apartment."

"
Fiancé?
” Garry hadn’t mentioned being
engaged. I looked at the half-naked woman, then at Sean, his face
nearly the same red hue as the woman’s negligee.

"Hey, I know you," the woman said, looking at
me, then Sean. "I saw your pictures on TV, and heard Garry talk
about you."

"I'm afraid you're right," I said. "Garry and
I were married at one time."
Looks like he's gotten over it,
though.

"You two don't look like criminals to
me."

"We're not," I said. "That shooting was a
terrible mistake."

The woman stuck out her hand. "In that case,
I'm Rose Dombroski. Call me Rosie D. Everybody does."

"Glad to meet you Rosie D, I'm Darcy
James."

Rosie turned to Sean, offered her hand, and
caught him staring at her barely covered bosom.

"Oh..." he said, coming out of the trance,
"I’m Sean Higgins."
The jerk.

"Guess I'd better put something on. I was
planning on surprising Garry. Guess the surprise was on me."

The phone on the entertainment center rang.
Rosie reached for it.

"Yeah?" There was a pause as she
listened.

"Yeah, they're here now." Another pause.
"Yes, Garry, I introduced myself. In fact, you could say they've
seen a lot of me."

"He wants to talk to you." Rosie gave me the
phone.

I took it. "What did you find?"

"Something I'm not sure I believe."

"Try me."

"Reason I didn't get back right away: I tried
the computer for photographic matches in the U.S. first."

"Yes?"

"I got back three possibilities, two already
in federal prisons. The third’s been dead for three months."

"Go on."

"Then I tried the international file. Covers
the whole world."

"And?"