Killer Image (An Allison Campbell Mystery) (14 page)

She doubted this was the direction Hank McBride wanted to go in either. She saw her fee for this deal slipping away and along with it, her reputation and the money for her parents’ care.

Maggie said, “He’s so sweet.”

Allison looked again at Brutus. “He’s not that sweet.”

“You don’t know him yet.”

“Yet? Oh no, Maggie. I draw the line here. No dogs.”

“Wasn’t it you who told me people have the ability to shape their future? If you want to get over your fear of dogs, you can. You have that power. Please? Look at that face! Please, please, please?”

“I
am
looking at that face. Even if I wasn’t scared of him, I’d be worried about disease and fleas. There’s something wrong with his fur.”

The dog stopped licking the pot and sat next to Maggie, his flank against Maggie’s side. Making what sounded like a contented grunt, he sprawled on the floor, his head in Maggie’s lap. Maggie stroked his ears.

“Please? Just for a few days? It will give me time to find him another home.”

“Doesn’t he have a tag? Just call his owners.”

Maggie fingered the metal circle that hung from the dog’s collar. “I can only make out his name. The metal’s worn away.”

It did look as though he’d been panhandling for quite some time. Still, Allison said, “We should call the AASPCA to see if anyone’s lost him.”

Maggie just stared at Allison, a soulful pleading in her eyes.

“Oh, for goodness sake, Maggie. I have a life here. I work round the clock. There’s a reason I don’t have kids or pets...or plants, for that matter. You don’t even like me. Why would you want to trust me with a dog?”

“I like you a little bit.”

Allison looked at her, trying to decide if this was manipulation on Maggie’s part or the expression of real feeling. What she saw surprised her. While Allison had no doubt that Maggie wanted something—namely, help with the dog—there was also genuine warmth and trust in her eyes. Allison felt her resolve melting.

“Come here, let’s clean you up.” She walked over to the sink, careful not to turn her back to the dog, and pulled Neosporin and Band-Aids from a cabinet. These she laid on the counter. “Roll up your sleeves.”

She washed Maggie’s hand first. The scratches seemed superficial: a few long trails of dried blood covering thin lacerations. The arm was worse. A chunk of skin was missing, and the area around the wound looked red and puffy.

“You need to keep an eye on this. When was your last tetanus shot?”

“Like I know.”

“This could get infected. Tell your parents you need a trip to the doctor.”

“Um, no.” Maggie cocked her head to the side and rolled her eyes. Her dyed-black hair had blue highlights in the morning light.

“Then I’ll tell them.” Allison covered the wound with triple-antibiotic cream and a bandage, the whole time keeping one eye on the dog in case he decided a pot of raw meat wasn’t enough sustenance for one morning.

“You can’t tell Daddy. I will be
so
dead for skipping school.”

“I’m sure the school called your mother. She probably already knows—”

“Even if they did, she won’t tell. She’s afraid of upsetting my father. Everyone’s afraid of upsetting Daddy.”

“You saved that dog. They’ll be proud of you.”

“Yeah, right. If you haven’t noticed, Allison, Mr. Conservative Values is less about helping others and more about appearances. He doesn’t want that ugly dog saved any more than he wants to turn me loose to the media. Anyway, I told you. He hates animals.”

“There’s still your arm to take care of.”

“Will you keep Brutus for me? I know it’s a lot to ask, but I don’t have anyone else to turn to.” Maggie’s eyes were teary. “Please?”

Allison looked from Maggie to the dog. He did seem harmless enough, certainly nothing like her father’s wolf-dog, Thor. Maybe Jason would take him. She could put him in the basement until Jason arrived. What would an hour or two hurt? And it would make Maggie happy. She seemed so worried about the animal, and it was nice to see a human side of her.

“I’ll make you a deal. If you tell your parents you hurt your arm and get them to take you to a doctor—use whatever story you want—I’ll try to find a temporary home for Brutus until we find his owners.”

Maggie smiled. “Deal.”

As though on cue, Brutus let out a low, long fart. He looked quite pleased with himself afterwards, rolled over onto his side, gave a wheezy sigh, and closed his eyes again. Maggie laughed.

“Nice. All that All-Bran,” Allison said. “Anyway, so how did you know where to find me?”

“The Internet. You can find all sorts of stuff if you know what you’re looking for.”

True, Allison thought. No one had privacy anymore. “Who drove you here?”

“A friend.”

“And where is said friend?”

“At school.”

“So I guess you need a ride back?”

Maggie nodded. Allison eyed Maggie’s clothes to see whether a spin in the washer was required first. Despite the uniform, Maggie had managed to accessorize à la London underground: that pentagram necklace, black Doc Martens, anarchy-symbol earrings and her signature bed-head hairdo. Mud streaked the white Polo and pleated skirt. Nothing a little warm water and soap couldn’t handle.

“Let’s get you upstairs and cleaned up. You can’t go to school like that. And you certainly can’t go home like that. Your mother will know something’s up. You smell like a barnyard and there’s dog hair all over your skirt.”

Maggie looked down at her uniform. “So what do you suggest?”

“I’ll give you some sweats. We’ll throw your uniform through the rinse cycle, and then I’ll drop you off at school.”

“In the meantime?”

Brutus farted again. The sound startled him, and he jumped up in surprise. Maggie giggled.

Oh Lord
. “You can bathe that dog. If he’s bunking with me for a few hours, he needs to smell less like Eau de Waste-Treatment Plant and more like Johnson’s Baby Shampoo.”

Fifteen

“I can’t take him, Al,” Jason said. “My apartment doesn’t allow dogs.”

“Since when does Jason Campbell follow the rules?”

“Since I like having a roof over my head,” he said over the phone. “Would you prefer I live there again?”

“No.” She answered quickly—too quickly—but the fact was, the question gave her pause. Allison tried to decipher the tone in Jason’s voice. Was there even a hint of wanting, or was it just Jason being playful? Not that it mattered. She’d made her choice. They both had.

“Well, what am I supposed to do with him? If I send him to the AASPCA, Maggie will have a stroke.”

“Maybe he has an owner out there.”

“Maggie and I called every shelter in a fifty-mile radius. No one has reported him missing.”

“Then it looks like you’re a dog owner.”

Allison watched Brutus. She’d made Maggie barricade him in the kitchen before she’d dropped her off at school, but he wasn’t looking too thrilled about being corralled. The dog paced back and forth restlessly, head down, tail between his legs. Even Allison knew a non-wagging tail meant an unhappy dog.

“That’s not an option, Jason. I’m far too busy to care for a dog.” At the sound of her voice, Brutus walked over to the where she stood and sat, looking at her expectantly. “Besides, he wants to eat me.”

“You’re being ridiculous.”

She glanced at the clock: 11:14. “No, I’m not. I’m standing here staring at this dog. Soon he’ll have to go to the bathroom. Then what will I do? If I try to put him on a leash, not that I own one, he might bite me.”

She didn’t like the panic in her voice, but she couldn’t hide it. She wanted to add that she was still in jeans, hadn’t showered, had a headache-medicine hangover and needed to meet with a Third Circuit judge in forty-five minutes. But Jason already viewed her as an anal-retentive freak of nature, and she wasn’t about to give him more ammunition.

“Mia,” he said.

“Huh?”

“I’ll call my mother. She has the space, and she loves animals. Maybe she’ll take him for a few days.”

“There’s one little problem with that plan. She won’t talk to me, remember?”

“Don’t take it personally, Al. She’s just a little sensitive after everything with Bridget and then the divorce.”

“I think not returning a single phone call in two years is a pretty good indication of her feelings toward me, Jason. We both know she thinks I abandoned you.”

Jason didn’t respond. Rather than entertain the thought that he, too, felt Allison had abandoned him, she said, “If your mother will take him, I’d appreciate that. I’m desperate.”

“I’ll give her a call. For now, don’t show your fear, Al. Dogs can smell it. It’ll only get you into trouble.”

Judge Norman Lint sweated. Public speaking terrified him, and by the end of any speech he would be drenched: armpit stains, collar ring, a damp nest of white hair against his reddened forehead. The man had made it through two years on the bench of the prestigious Third Circuit only by using a mix of Paxil, behavioral therapy, and weekly sessions with Allison. She had no idea how he’d gotten through law school or managed a successful twenty-year stint as a litigator. Even with the meds and an audience of only one, Allison had a tough time keeping him calm and focused.

“Norman, remember to breathe. Find one person in the room and focus on his or her face...Good, now speak like you’re only talking to me... And breathe. That’s it. If you feel yourself starting to panic, take a deep breath and focus on your point person...Deep breaths. Good!”

Allison placed a hand on her diaphragm. “Here, Norman. Deep belly breaths.”

Norman stood six inches shorter than Allison, and his small-featured, mustachioed face tilted up toward hers. She tried to ignore the starry-eyed wanting in his eyes. For a shy man, he certainly wore his heart where you could see it. At least he wasn’t staring at her feet today. She’d dressed casually in charcoal capris, a white sweater set and ballet flats to remove any temptation. She hoped she’d remembered to put away her extra pumps. Last time they disappeared after his session.

After a moment, Norman said, “Labor law has changed over the years. There was a time when the Third Circuit heard cases...” In his typical monotone, the judge gave the short speech he had prepared for today’s session.

Allison usually suggested fun, easy topics like a hobby or sport, but Norman insisted on providing her with in-depth educational spiels about the legal system. She smiled.  “Good, Norman. Very interesting.”

From the other side of the closed door, Vaughn’s voice rose above Norman’s. “You can’t go in there, Congressman. She’s with a client... no, Congressman. I’m afraid she’s busy. Hey—”

The door flung open with a bang and the doorway was suddenly filled by Hank McBride’s unwelcome presence.

“Ms. Campbell, what in damnation were you thinking?” He stopped when he saw the judge.

Vaughn’s angry face hovered behind Hank. He mouthed, “Sorry.”

Allison was livid. Behind her, she heard Judge Lint’s breathing go from slow and steady to quick and labored. She had to get Hank out and Norman calm. They’d recognize each other, of course, both being powerful men traveling in a very tight Philadelphia political circle.

Confirming her thoughts, Hank said, “Norman.”

The judge nodded, but his cheeks were bloated and his face beet red. That telltale sweat was already beading across his forehead.

“Out, Congressman. Now.”

Hank looked from Allison to the judge and back again, considering, it seemed, whether to back down. Allison pointed toward the door. She made no attempt to hide her anger. “I’ll see you when we’re finished here.”

Vaughn placed his hand on Hank’s shoulder, but the man shrugged it off. After a final glance at Norman, Hank left the room with Vaughn at his heels.

Allison turned her attention back to the judge, who stood, back against the wall, arms clutching his chest. “I’m so sorry, Norman. Remember to breathe. Good, good, straighten up. That’s it.” She helped the judge to the couch and handed him tissues to blot his face. “Part of public speaking is
learning to roll with the unexpected, so consider that a good lesson.”

Allison took her time with Norman. When they were finished, she apologized again and walked the judge out. She’d finally calmed down enough to give Hank McBride—the blooming bastard—a piece of her mind.

She found him in her office with Vaughn, who glowered over Hank like an angry prison guard. Allison thanked Vaughn. “You can go,” she said, “we’ll be fine.” Then to Hank, she said, “What were you thinking? I had a client in there, Congressman. You can’t barge in that way.”

Hank walked over to the window, one hand clutching his mobile, the other arrogantly planted on his hip. His face was a mask of infuriating calm, though the red creeping from underneath his collar told Allison that he was feeling less than serene.

“Are you finished yelling at me, Ms. Campbell?”

“I wasn’t yelling. To the contrary. I would love to yell at you, but I’m a professional.”

He looked away. “I apologize for the misunderstanding. I thought you were alone.”

Bullshit
. “What do you want, Congressman? My time is limited.”

Head still turned away from her, he said, “Maggie.”

“What about Maggie?”

“I received a phone call from one Mark Helms this morning. Ring a bell?”

“
Lieutenant
Mark Helms?” With sudden understanding, she said, “He’s investigating the Feldman murder. But what does he have to do with Maggie? Or me, for that matter?”

Hank took two menacing steps toward her. “Why don’t
you
tell
me
what Helms has to do with my daughter, Ms. Campbell?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

He took another step, closing the distance between them. Allison stood her ground.

His eyes squinted menacingly. She said, “I think you should leave, Hank. Before you do something you’ll regret.”

“The police are investigating my daughter for the murder of Arnie Feldman.” He spoke through clenched teeth. “Do you have any idea what that means?”

Allison’s mind sorted through the implications. Maggie must not know at this point, or she would have mentioned it this morning. But once she found out, once Hank got a hold of Maggie...This was the end of the line for Maggie, regardless of the legal outcome. Boarding school would look like Disney World.

Allison said, “I’m sorry to hear that. Maggie must be terrified.”

“You knew Maggie was dating Ethan. It’s awfully coincidental that the Lieutenant comes knocking on our door just weeks after we hire you.”

“I have no idea why the police are questioning Maggie, and I certainly haven’t talked to anyone about Maggie in relation to this case.”

He tossed the cell phone on the floor and came at her in one swift move. He rammed her hard against the door with both hands, digging his thumbs into her shoulders. His breath smelled like onions and cigarette smoke.

“You bitch,” he hissed. “You told Helms that Maggie was with Ethan the night of the murder.”

His fingers pressed deeper into her collarbone, twisting the light cotton of her sweater. She tried to push him away. He didn’t budge.

“Get off me! You will be very sorry, Congressman. I had nothing to do with Helms.” Another push. McBride was dead weight against her. She tried to knee him in the groin, but the best she could manage was a stomp on his foot. She wished she’d worn stilettos.

Hank winced. He lightened his grip. “Maggie told Sunny that you knew. I’m not stupid—”

“Listen to yourself.” Allison gave him another shove and this time he backed off. There was a loud knock at the door.

“Allison, everything alright in there?” Vaughn said.

“Fine, Vaughn.” Allison shot Hank a warning stare.

“I’m right here if you need me.”

“Everything’s under control,” she said to Vaughn. She turned her attention to Hank. Her heart was racing. Sweat beaded across her brow. She wiped it away angrily and said, “What the
hell
were you thinking? I could have you arrested for battery. I don’t give a rat’s ass if you are a congressman!”

“I just assumed.” Hank looked down at his hands as though surprised at what they’d just done. He walked slowly back toward the window, still facing Allison. Allison rubbed her collarbone where his fingers had squeezed.

“Maggie seems even less compliant since she met you, not more. You come along, then Lieutenant Helms. It was a logical deduction. I’m sorry. You must understand. She’s my youngest, after all.”

Allison detected a hint of real concern in Hank’s tone and mannerisms. She
wanted
to believe the fear was for Maggie—and not his political career—but instinct told her otherwise. She said, “We’re through, Congressman. This engagement is predicated on trust. I’m afraid I can’t work with you anymore.”

He stood straight, a look of surprise replaced by the glare of righteous indignation. “We had a deal. You signed a contract.”

“Didn’t Sunny tell you? I refused to sign the contract. Our deal is off.” She opened the door and motioned toward the waiting room. She wanted Hank out of here, out of her building and her life. I should have trusted my gut, she thought. She felt awful for Maggie and, if she was being honest with herself, she would actually miss the kid. But the truth was, without the support of her family and a willingness to roll up her own adolescent sleeves, change was nearly impossible.

“Payment is dependent upon completion—”

“Then don’t pay me. I don’t want your money.” She pointed at the front door. “Please leave, Congressman.”

He picked up his phone and walked through the open door. In the waiting room, he paused and turned toward Allison. “You’ll be sorry, Ms. Campbell. Few people cross me and survive with their careers intact.”

“Don’t threaten me, Congressman.” Allison walked him to the front door of the office. She opened it, waiting for him to leave.

He flashed a crooked smile. “Oh, it’s not a threat Ms. Campbell. Merely a fact.” He held his wrist up to the light and made a show of checking the time. “I’m late for a press conference. Fancy that. I never know what will come out when I speak with the media. You know how rumors start.”

Allison tried to keep her voice even. “I also understand how fragile a politician’s reputation can be. And I’m sure the press would like to know about the stunt you pulled today.” Allison put her hand on her throat. Then, before he could respond, she slammed the door in his face.