Two Down Part 18

Belle shot him a glance, then continued. Her words and tone were thoughtful. "So, here's my notion: Jamaica masterminds The Globe The Globe photo spread. Her 'mysterious male companion' is part of the deal-or not. That's an unimportant detail because who knows where, or photo spread. Her 'mysterious male companion' is part of the deal-or not. That's an unimportant detail because who knows where, or who who he is... When said cruel pix are published, the actress appears outraged. Whines to her best buddy, Genie, and furiously decamps the L.A. scene-only to tragically disappear at sea during a yachting 'accident' aboard said best friend's chartered boat." he is... When said cruel pix are published, the actress appears outraged. Whines to her best buddy, Genie, and furiously decamps the L.A. scene-only to tragically disappear at sea during a yachting 'accident' aboard said best friend's chartered boat."

"You've lost me again, Belle... What's the purpose of this hoax?"

In the waning light, Belle's gray eyes burned like smoldering coal. "How much publicity has Jamaica gotten out of this situation already?" The speech flew ahead without waiting for a response. "A lot! And what happens when the media learns the dinghy didn't sustain damage in the ocean? Where will speculation lead, then?" Again, Belle didn't pause for an answer. "Everyone will a.s.sume a.s.sume it's a kidnapping, Rosco! Beloved actress hideously abducted... Fans of it's a kidnapping, Rosco! Beloved actress hideously abducted... Fans of Crescent Heights Crescent Heights and Jamaica's character will start tearing the tabloids off the shelves. When she reappears, shaken but unscathed, she'll be reinstalled as a star in the Hollywood pantheon." and Jamaica's character will start tearing the tabloids off the shelves. When she reappears, shaken but unscathed, she'll be reinstalled as a star in the Hollywood pantheon."

"Okay..." Rosco said. "Supposing you're right... Just supposing... What's Genie's role?"

"She's giving her friend every bit of help she can. Think about it-a solid citizen is abducted as well. It's perfect. Who would suspect a hoax?"

Rosco was silent, mulling over the suggestions. "I don't know, Belle. This is pretty outlandish-"

"No, it's not. It's dramatic. It's Hollywood! And that's what we're looking at. A drama created by an actress. Two, if you want to be specific about it-"

"Where does Tom fit in? According to this... this theory of yours?"

Belle gestured toward the darkening waves as if their depths held answers. "Well..." she began, "obviously, Tom has to be aware of each detail in the plot... More than 'aware' he's got to be a player, too... After all, he 'found' Flack in his home, had him thrown in the can-and insisted bail be posted at a quarter of a million dollars... Besides, Pepper has all sorts of alibis that point to noninvolvement. First, he's away hunting in Maine, then he hauls you in on the 'case' next, he pretends to go ballistic with the Coast Guard, then feigns an attack on an unfortunate photographer-who turns out to be none other than Mr. Reggie Flack..."

Rosco didn't speak.

"Tell me you don't agree."

"I don't. For one thing, I don't believe Tom could possibly have faked the rage I witnessed. He was truly irrational; I told you I was genuinely concerned about his mental health-"

"But the setup is perfect, Rosco!" Belle insisted. "It's flawless!"

In the dimming light, Rosco took a long breath and shook his head. "Was," he finally said.

"What do you mean 'was'?"

"It can't be flawless if someone uncovers the supposed supposed crime. And that's what it is; a crime. No one could pull a stunt like this without getting prosecuted." crime. And that's what it is; a crime. No one could pull a stunt like this without getting prosecuted."

"That's a.s.suming they get caught." Belle sighed impatiently. "You don't believe me, do you?"

Rosco paused, then gently took her hand. This time the gesture was in earnest. "I think your idea's too complex, Belle. It involves too many players to be successfully staged."

"What about the CIA's tactics? What about the FBI stings?"

"Where did that come from?" he said with a smile, finding her looking overly alluring in the setting sun.

"Anything's possible. We haven't even considered the guys from D.C."

Rosco drew her close. "It's getting cold. What do you say we go home-"

"The crossword puzzles," she interrupted with a quick shake of her head. "I just remembered clues and answers that seemed insignificant earlier..." Her brow creased in concentration.

"You don't give up, do you?"

"Never!" she answered. "So you'd better get used to it." Then her words raced ahead. "FLACK appeared in the first puzzle I received. MOE was in the second puzzle-the answer to One of the Stooges One of the Stooges-"

"Belle..." Ros...o...b..gan.

"I know what you're going to say." She waved a hand in excited impatience. "But maybe Stooges Stooges doesn't refer to television clowns; perhaps it indicates another group-one more closely allied to finding the doesn't refer to television clowns; perhaps it indicates another group-one more closely allied to finding the Orion Orion. A 'stooge' can be a puppet, a straight man-or a stool pigeon. Think about the implications, Rosco. Vic Fogram admitted dousing the Orion Orion fire, right? And he said his buddies were acting crazy. The puzzles must have been created by someone who witnessed their behavior." fire, right? And he said his buddies were acting crazy. The puzzles must have been created by someone who witnessed their behavior."

Rosco tried to interrupt, but Belle would not allow it. "Then there's The Globe, The Globe, Reggie Flack's newspaper-that was Shakespeare's theater." Reggie Flack's newspaper-that was Shakespeare's theater."

"Flack doesn't publish the paper, Belle; he's not responsible for-"

"But everything fits, Rosco! It's all part of a bigger puzzle! Remember the quotations from The Merchant of Venice, The Merchant of Venice, the references to the references to Hamlet, Much Ado About Nothing Hamlet, Much Ado About Nothing-those clues had had to be Flack's creation, Rosco. Apt quotes from the Bard are his stock in trade, remember? Flack's the one who's been sending the crosswords. He's the one who staged Jamaica's kidnapping." to be Flack's creation, Rosco. Apt quotes from the Bard are his stock in trade, remember? Flack's the one who's been sending the crosswords. He's the one who staged Jamaica's kidnapping."

Rosco shook his head. "With her permission, I think you mentioned-"

"With her collusion collusion!" Belle corrected vehemently. "And Genie's and and Tom's! They're up to their eyeb.a.l.l.s in this!" Tom's! They're up to their eyeb.a.l.l.s in this!"

Rosco leaned close, gently brus.h.i.+ng a strand of blond hair away from her face. "I love your enthusiasm, Belle... along with everything else. Really, I do. But as a former cop, I've got to tell you-"

Belle studied him, her expression dangerously solemn. "You know, your eye looks worse than it did an hour ago."

"Listen... It was a good theory."

"It is is a good theory," she insisted. "And don't try to change the subject. Your eye really looks awful. We should put more ice on it." a good theory," she insisted. "And don't try to change the subject. Your eye really looks awful. We should put more ice on it."

"I probably shouldn't have mentioned Doris's name, but I was trying to get a rise out of Fogram," Rosco said with a rueful shrug.

"You certainly succeeded in getting a rise out of your eyebrow."

"You'd be surprised how much information can flow with a good burst of anger..."

She turned away from him and the water's edge and began to survey the now dusky beach.

"Belle, I'm serious; it's a good theory. We just need to bounce it around a little more."

After several thoughtful minutes she spoke. "You said it took two of you to stash the inflatable tender in the patrol car, right?"

"Correct."

Belle continued to stare toward the dunes. "If the dinghy had been driven to Munnatawket Beach and immobilized here, a good-sized vehicle would have had to transport it; and one person couldn't have wrestled the tender to the spot where you found it without creating a visible trail... And if if it had been cut elsewhere and it had been cut elsewhere and then then driven here, two people would still have been involved." driven here, two people would still have been involved."

"What are you getting at?"

"Flack must have an a.s.sistant who's still at large."

"Belle..." Ros...o...b..gan. He walked to her and put his arm around her shoulder.

"Admit defeat, Rosco. I'm right and you're wrong."

"No surrender." He laughed briefly. "How about you're wrong and I'm I'm right?" right?"

Belle ignored the comment. "And I know just who the guilty party is, too."

"I'll just bet you do."

"Don't be so high-and-mighty, Mr. Ex-Cop."

Rosco sighed. "Okay, I'll bite. Who is our mysterious missing link?"

"Billy Vauriens!"

Rosco closed his eyes. "Don't make me laugh, Belle, please; it makes my eye sorer than it already is."

"Why not Vauriens?" she demanded.

"Well, for starters, why don't you tell me why his name sprang into your head?"

"Genie wanted her brother to go into acting, right?"

"Mmm-hmm..."

"But he couldn't tolerate bit parts in cla.s.sical theater. It was below his talent. Isn't that the gist of what you relayed to me?"

"Something like that..."

"Then he disappears... his girlfriend's disgruntled; his work history is spotty-to say the least... Why couldn't he have been Jamaica's 'mysterious male companion,' the guy Flack claims claims set up the Catalina visit. Vauriens jets out to L.A. from Boston-maybe more than a few times. Maybe he's even serious about breaking into the movie biz-" set up the Catalina visit. Vauriens jets out to L.A. from Boston-maybe more than a few times. Maybe he's even serious about breaking into the movie biz-"

"Belle, give it up."

"Think about it, Rosco! You don't know what Vauriens looks like. Who's to say he wasn't that blurry male on the beach in Catalina?"

"Don't you think Tom would have told me that Vauriens-"

"Why would he, Rosco?" Belle interrupted. "If he's in on the whole thing? I know what you're going to say, but you've got to admit there's a good possibility of Vauriens and the 'mysterious escort' being one and the same man."

Rosco was silent for several seconds. "I don't know, Belle. This is a huge leap-"

"Not if you subscribe to my previous theory."

"Which I don't."

Belle threw up her hands. "You are really stubborn, Rosco. I hope you know that... Besides, you told me you always played hunches. Well, this is my hunch. And it's a strong one. I believe Flack is the point man for an operation that Jamaica's clandestinely controlling-and that he has a very willing young a.s.sistant."

Again, Rosco didn't speak. "Let's hope a few of these ideas are correct," he said at last. "And if Tom isn't in on it, let's also hope he gets a ransom note soon. Because if you're wrong, the fact is that those women are still missing... And if they've been kidnapped by someone whose motive is money and revenge, they're still in a great deal of danger."

"I know," Belle said quietly. "I know."

In the early-evening gloom, the two walked to the Jeep. The sun had set, and the last residue of pink and orange long since gone from the sky. Rosco put the car in gear, and they began retracing their route to Newcastle.

Near the hairpin curve leading to the secluded point of land upon which the Pepper house stood, the rapid blue, red, and white flash of emergency strobe lights slashed across the darkened pavement. As the Jeep rounded the bend, Rosco and Belle spotted an ambulance and two police cars-one of which was Lever's unmarked Ford. An ancient orange VW Bug clung to the road's shoulder, its driver an equally antique lady who looked white and gla.s.sy with horror. Al Lever leaned down talking to her while two medics and another police officer attended to a body lying p.r.o.ne and lifeless in the road.

Without a word, Rosco and Belle jumped from the Jeep. Lever glanced up. "Bad news sure has a way of trailing me today, Polly-Crates. Tell me you two are out on a date, and this isn't business."

"Anything I can do, Al?"

"Yeah, tell me to go home." He turned back to the VW's driver, then suddenly jerked his head in Rosco's direction. "Lady witnessed a hit-and-run... says she saw the whole thing... 'Some kind of truck' was 'driving recklessly, almost out of control.' The guy you see over there must have been walking along the opposite shoulder. Dead on contact, according to the EMS..."

Lever straightened and approached Rosco and Belle; his lips were tight. "ID states he was William Vauriens-Genie Pepper's half brother."

26.

"Who is this?" Rosco grumbled into the receiver of his bedside telephone. "What time is it?" He said this half to himself and half as an annoyed accusation to the early-morning caller whose raspy voice he hadn't recognized. Rosco fumbled with his clock radio, turning the dial toward the window in an attempt to attract predawn illumination.

"I couldn't sleep," the person said as if the answer would suffice as apology for calling at such a heinous hour.

"What time is it?" Rosco repeated.

"I don't know... five... five-thirty... Maybe earlier." The words slurred over themselves, fading in and out. "h.e.l.l, you used to be a cop. You must have worked night s.h.i.+ft. Able-bodied seamen can tell the time by the stars."

"Who is this?" Rosco demanded again, then suddenly remembered Belle's menacing phone call. "Unless you identify yourself, I'm hanging up."

"Fogram..." Rosco finally heard. "Vic Fogram... the Red Admiral..."

Rosco fumbled with the alarm clock. "You don't sound like the Vic I met," he said.

"Fogram... Vic Fogram." Again, the words had a muzzy sound. "You came up to my place yesterday..."

Rosco finally succeeded in illuminating the clock's face. It was five-ten A A.M. "The Red Admiral..." he heard repeated. "I had me too many shots and beers last night. Too many smokes. I can't sleep..." The conversation had spun full circle; Rosco decided to shake it loose. He pulled himself upright in the bed. "How's Doris?" he asked.

The response was a ferocious expletive.

Rosco smiled to himself, then remembered the welt above his eye. "Okay. I guess you're who you say you are."

"You leave Doris out of this, Polycrates. She's got nothing to do with you. Nothing to say, neither. I thought she made that clear already."

Rosco finally found the switch on the table lamp and glanced at his caller-ID box. He didn't recognize the number, and the prefix wasn't the downtown exchange of Fogram's tavern. Again, he was second-guessing himself as to who the caller truly was. "Hold on a sec, there, Vic... This phone's a piece of junk. I'm having trouble hearing you... Let me call you back on a different line."

"You can't do that... I'm not home."

Rosco jotted the number on a pad of paper. "Well, why don't we let this conversation ride till you get there," he said.

"This can't wait till later. We gotta talk now. I'm in danger here, Polycrates. One man's dead already."

Rosco felt the skin at the back of his neck p.r.i.c.kle. What did this man know? "Who would that be?"