Twisted Hunger Page 2

  Unbuttoning his suit jacket, he finally began his explanation. “As I’m sure you’re aware, many of the state primaries are now over, and there doesn’t appear to be any doubt that Sam Erikson will be heading the Republican ticket come November. Unless he commits a monumental faux pas between now and then, he will probably also win the election by a landslide.”

  Ellery had met the governor of Illinois and, although she didn’t agree with Erikson’s nearly right-wing platform, she did respect his record.

  Rather than respond with any personal opinions, however, she narrowed her eyes and said, “As you said, I am aware of the situation, but I didn’t get in this car to discuss politics. You implied that you know something about my mother’s death. I would much prefer to hear what you meant by that.”

  “I assure you that is where I’m leading, but the situation is so delicate, it is imperative that we establish certain facts first. Please bear with me.”

  She wasn’t happy about his evasive answer but she motioned for him to continue.

  “You studied political science at Berkeley, Miss Winters. If you were one of Erikson’s advisors, who would you recommend he select as a running mate?”

  His question intrigued her despite its irrelevance. “Well, I’d tell him he needs to balance the ticket politically by choosing someone who was far enough left to be a Democrat, but still firmly entrenched in the Republican Party.”

  Mr. Brevowski angled his head at her. “Can you be more specific?”

  “As a state governor, Erickson’s focus has been on domestic matters. He’s a little weak on the international stage. So an ideal veep should have some foreign affairs experience. Geographically, his base is the Northeast and the last president was from the South. I’d look for someone from the central or western United States.”

  Mr. Brevowski smiled slightly. “So far, you’ve given the exact same recommendations that Erikson’s advisors made. But can you suggest a name?”

  She sighed but decided to answer that question, and then she was going to insist he explain why they were talking politics while her mother’s casket was being lowered into the ground. “My first thought would be Abraham Lincoln Jones. And quite honestly, Mr. Brevowski, I’ve had enough of Twenty Questions. Either tell me what connection any of this has with my mother’s death or take me home.”

  “I apologize,” he said with a frown. “It was inconsiderate of me to approach you during your hour of grief, but time is of the essence and my questions are pertinent. You’re right, of course. Jones is the name that’s bubbled to the top. Being a California state senator puts him in the desired electoral region. Plus, he’s a favorite of some of the most liberal groups in America. And he’s a child of world politics. His mother is the daughter of a Republican U.S. senator, his father a diplomat, assigned to various American consulates around the world. Jones was born in Paris, spent his grade school years in New Zealand and Australia, high school in Japan and the first two years of college in Germany. In other words, he seems to be perfect.”

  Ellery couldn’t help but hear the insinuation that Jones was not what he seemed, but beyond that, she was still in the dark.

  “You know your mother was in Senator Jones’ Sausalito home when she had a heart attack. And his name was the only one she managed to communicate clearly, besides yours and her husband’s, along with words like ‘horrible’, ‘secret’, ‘scared’, ‘saw’ and ‘he’. Is that not correct?”

  Ellery was no longer intrigued or impatient. Icy fear was creeping into her mind. He had just recited most of the list of fully formed words her mother had managed to point out on the alphabet screen during her conscious moments.

  Considering the fact that Audrey had been in the senator’s home, Ellery had not thought there was anything unusual about her mother spelling out his last name. Rather than raising her suspicions about Jones, however, Mr. Brevowski’s insinuations made her leery of him.

  “How… how do you know about those words?”

  “Let’s just say I have my sources. I also know that your mother once told you there was something not quite right about Senator Jones and his wife.”

  She felt her stomach fill with acid. “Not quite right” was the precise phrase her mother had used during a telephone conversation with her, but that call had taken place nearly a year ago, after Audrey’s first catering job for the senator.

  Her mother made a similar comment when she visited Washington a few months ago. She talked about the uncomfortable tension she’d picked up in the Sausalito home the four times she catered parties there. She mentioned strange looks shared between the senator and his wife when they thought no one was watching. She had the feeling that Mrs. Jones was not the sanitary political wife everyone assumed she was.

  Though her mother’s intuition was often right on target, Ellery had figured she had to be wrong this time. Everyone else seemed to highly approve of “Honest Abe” Jones.

  However, whether Audrey had been right or wrong, the important point here was, how did Carl Brevowski know about her intuitive feelings? “I don’t believe it’s customary procedure for a junior-level congressman’s aide to be spied on or to have her phone tapped without a valid reason. I’d appreciate it if you’d give me one, Mr. Brevowski… which I now doubt is your real name. And while you’re at it, you can tell me which agency you work for.”

  He waved a hand at her. “I’m not affiliated with any official government agency. Due to the delicacy of this matter, I can only tell you that I represent a group of people who have a vested interest in the future of this country, and it is their belief that Abraham Lincoln Jones should be kept out of the White House.”

  “Why don’t you simply present your group’s concerns to the Republican National Committee and let them—”

  “The Committee, as well as routine private investigations, has confirmed that Jones’ background is spotless. No one has uncovered a single blemish that would make him an unfit candidate. The worst thing anyone has come up with is some ancient gossip that Mrs. Jones was somewhat, shall we say, loose in her college days, but since she has apparently been completely respectable since then, no one cares if the gossip is true or not.”

  In a sarcastic tone she said, “And yet you and your group want to find something big enough to do just that. Why don’t you manufacture something or try entrapment? That might work.”

  He smirked at her. “Our goal would stand a better chance of success if it was achieved honestly. We’re seriously concerned about his political platform and economic views.”

  “Since when do the opinions of the vice president seriously concern anyone?”

  “Since there is a very realistic question about Erikson’s advanced age and a health matter, despite what is being formally released to the public. Whoever is chosen as his running mate could very well end up King of the Hill. But before I go further, I want to assure you that your phone was never tapped. We have been observing Jones’ political climb for some time. More recently, our, uh, observations extended to people around him.”

  Ellery shook her head in disbelief. “My mother was an independent caterer, not an employee of Jones.” His shrug didn’t make her feel any better. “I’m out of here.” She opened the car door to get out but his fingers closed around her upper arm to hold her inside.

  “Jones may have killed your mother,” he said quickly.

  That was enough to keep her there. “My mother was not murdered, she suffered a heart attack.”

  “There are ways to kill someone and make it appear to be a heart attack. I doubt that any of the medical personnel administering to your mother would have been looking for an injection mark in a discreet place on her body.”

  Ellery rubbed the bridge of her nose and squeezed her eyes shut. “This is ridiculous. Why would the senator want my mother dead?”

  “Remember the messages she was trying so hard to convey to you? We believe there’s a chance that Audrey Weiss saw something she wasn’t supposed to
see that night—something terrible enough for her to use words like ‘horrible’ and ‘scared’. Perhaps she witnessed an incident or came across some sort of evidence that revealed that Jones was not the loyal American everyone thinks he is. If so, we need to find out what she saw… before he’s named as a running mate for Erikson.”

  Again, she shook her head. “The national convention is less than five months away. If no one has uncovered any negative information by now, how do you think you could find it between now and August?”

  “Unfortunately, we really don’t even have that much time. The party wants Erikson to name his proposed running mate on the Fourth of July. They believe it will make good press, especially if that mate’s name is Abraham Lincoln. With that in mind, Jones’ aide in his Sacramento office has just accepted an offer in the private sector that requires her to leave his employ by May 15. We intend to put one of our people in her place, and although we have several others in mind, we think you’d be the best choice.”

  “Why?” she asked with an increasing feeling of dread.

  “Your credentials are legitimate and impressive enough that it would not be difficult for us to put a few words in the right ears and get you the position. We can practically guarantee your acceptance with little more than a superficial background check. Your interest in politics and the future of America should be enough for you to want to learn the truth. But more than that, you have a personal motivation. Don’t you want to know why your mother has been taken away from you?”

  “Of course I do,” she snapped back at him. “But you’re asking me to be a spy for an unidentified group of people. I’m not sure I can be so… so sneaky. Besides that, I voted for Jones in the last election. I like his platform.”

  “Then prove that he’s innocent of any wrongdoing. Either way, if you work with us on this, we’ll guarantee you an easy path into that seat in the California House of Representatives that you’ve wanted so badly.”

  Her brows shot up. Did he know everything about her? “I don’t believe I’ll need anyone’s questionable assistance to get elected. In time—”

  “We can shorten that timetable of yours. You know very well that honesty and experience do not always win elections, and if you don’t win, you can’t make a difference, now can you?”

  His words hit another vulnerable chord. She wanted to see changes made in the system, and she couldn’t do that as an aide to an unambitious congressman.

  The truth was, it would enhance her credentials if she were Jones’ aide when he went on to become vice president. On the other hand, if he didn’t, because his horrible secret was something traitorous, she could end up being painted with the same brush.

  She took a deep breath. “What if your suspicions are right about my mother witnessing something she shouldn’t have? Wouldn’t I be putting my own life on the line then?”

  “Possibly. That’s why you’d have to keep your relationship to Audrey Weiss a secret, just in case. At any rate, we’d be watching you closely. You might not see us, but if it looked like you were in trouble, we’d get you out. I’m afraid you’d have to trust me on that.”

  She wasn’t at all convinced that he could save her from danger if it truly existed, but if there was any possibility that her mother’s death was not by natural means, she owed it to her to right that injustice. “All right. You’ve got yourself a spy.” But only until I’m satisfied one way or the other.

  “Good. As soon as I’ve made all the necessary arrangements, I’ll contact you again, but our plan at this moment is to have you in Jones’ office by the first of May. That will give you about two weeks to train with his present aide. The best-case scenario would be for her to tip you off to something before she leaves, so try to get friendly with her.” He pulled a card out of the inside pocket of his jacket. “Meanwhile, if you absolutely must reach me, call this number from a public phone, never your cell phone or any line that could be connected to you, even indirectly. When you hear a beep, punch in four eights and hang up. I will be your only contact. Don’t trust anyone else who approaches you from this moment on, even an old acquaintance.”

  Ellery mentally amended his last sentence. She would trust no one from now on, including Mr. Carl Brevowski.

  Chapter 2

  Stewart Neuman’s psychic counselor had predicted that a mysterious new love interest would enter his life in mid-May and, for once, she was right on the money.

  He watched the white sedan with the darkened windows pull up to the curb in front of his men’s clothing store on Rodeo Drive in Beverly Hills. He quickly glanced at his Movado watch. Not only had Jewel returned to have dinner with him as promised, his new acquaintance was early. Stewart took that as a very good sign. Until that moment, he had not allowed himself to get excited about the suggestions Jewel had made that afternoon. Now he welcomed the tremors of anticipation that he’d been holding at bay.

  It was five minutes past closing, but one of his regular customers was still looking around. Though he would not normally do anything to offend someone who routinely spent several hundred dollars for a tie, he was no longer thinking of business. Within the customer’s hearing, he told his two employees that he would close up and they could go home. It bordered on rudeness, but it worked. The customer made a decision and brought a shirt up to the cash register.

  Logic warned Stewart not to hope for anything beyond tonight with Jewel. After all, his heart had barely begun to recover from his last lover’s betrayal. And yet his intuition told him Jewel was cut from a much finer bolt of cloth than Corey had been. Besides being considerably more mature, Jewel was obviously sophisticated, with an aura of mystery to boot.

  When Jewel first entered the shop, Stewart assumed she was a wealthy woman who wanted to keep her identity hidden. Although the pale pink Armani suit and matching pumps showed off a well-maintained figure, the cream lace headscarf covered all her hair except dark blonde bangs, and large sunglasses concealed her eyes.

  After only a few minutes of conversation, the woman surprised him with an invitation to dinner. When he tactfully declined, she untied the collar bow on her cream silk blouse, revealing a man’s Adam’s apple, then repeated the invitation in a deeper, masculine voice. Stewart had been delighted that he was completely fooled by the masquerade and was titillated by the innuendoes exchanged after Jewel had admitted to his true gender. He seemed to be exactly what was needed to forget about Corey.

  When Jewel continued to remain in the car rather than come inside the store to wait, Stewart grew curious. Perhaps Jewel’s feminine disguise was hiding more about his identity than his sex. Perhaps he was an actor who was too well known to be seen going out on a date with a man. If that was the case, he supposed their dinner would have to be in a discreet location. As his imagination conjured several intriguing scenarios, he closed the store in record time.

  As soon as Stewart neared the car, Jewel pushed open the passenger door for him. “I’m so glad you didn’t change your mind,” Stewart said as he eased into the plush passenger seat. He noted that Jewel was still dressed as he was earlier, minus the scarf and sunglasses.

  Jewel gave him a soft smile as he pulled the car away from the curb. “I hope you like picnics,” he said in his sensual female voice.

  “Love ‘em,” Stewart replied and concluded that he’d been right about this man’s need for privacy. When Jewel had glanced at him and smiled, Stewart thought there was something familiar about him, but with his face fully made up, he couldn’t be sure, and the car’s tinted windows did not let in enough light to study his features more closely. “Was today the first time you were in my store?”

  “No. I’ve been there before,” Jewel replied somewhat cryptically.

  Stewart studied his profile for another few seconds. “But not as Jewel.”

  Jewel chuckled. “No. Not as Jewel. But if you don’t mind, I’d prefer to be Jewel for a while longer. Perhaps… later… I’ll let you in on my little secret.”

  The
teasing promise of an unveiling was good enough for Stewart. For the remainder of their drive, he set aside his curiosity about Jewel’s identity and focused on being a charming, witty companion.

  Stewart wasn’t terribly surprised when they ended up near the beach at the north end of Santa Monica. There were a number of places in that area where a couple could share some private time, if they were just a little daring.

  As soon as they were parked, Jewel got a gym bag and an ice chest out of the trunk. Stewart carried the chest, but Jewel insisted on carrying the bag himself. They walked for quite a while before Jewel was satisfied with a secluded spot.

  “I just want to make sure we’re not disturbed,” Jewel explained sweetly. “Now be a dear and turn your back while I perform a little magic for us.”

  Stewart grinned and obeyed. When he was given permission to turn around again, he was delighted with the enticing scene before him. A variety of cold appetizers, crackers, cheese cubes and fruit had been attractively arranged on disposable plates in the center of a large blanket. Behind the food, Jewel was seductively posed, holding two plastic goblets of wine.

  “To new friendships,” he said, handing Stewart his drink. “This is from my private collection. I so hope you like it.”

  Stewart sat down, toasted Jewel and took a sip of the wine. It was a bit tart for his taste, but he didn’t want to insult his host, so he smiled and took another drink. By the time they had finished eating, he had consumed at least three full glasses. He was feeling very drunk but still didn’t care for the flavor of the wine. “Thank you, but no more,” he protested when Jewel tried to empty the last of the wine into his glass. “Any more and I’m afraid I won’t be… very good company.”