Chapter 5 – Where the Demons hide
Washington D.C., Wednesday, 24th October 1973
As usual, Perry was the last one in his office. Only this time, he wasn't exactly working. He was waiting for Paul Drake's telephone call. He was hoping against hope Paul had a first break through, but he had the sinking feeling he would end updisappointed. He felt helpless and that was an emotion he wasn't accustomed to. Deep down, he was already preparing for the moment the bomb would explode. What would he do if someone published the photos and exposed Della? The decent thing would be to condemn the people who did it, but would the Party force him to use it against Carlisle? That's what politics was all about, wasn't it? If you can't win on your own, you make sure your competitor didn't make it to the finish line? The poll numbers spoke in favor of Carlisle these days, but that would change soon, once Della was thrown under the bus.
Perry checked his watch. Paul was late and his nerves got the better of him. Just as he was aboutto pick up the receiver, the phone rang.
"Hi Perry."
"Hi Paul. I was about to call you. Is everything all right?
"Yes, don't worry. I just had the most interesting day."
"Shoot!"
"I've started to traipse around all sorts of places who are specialized in that kind of photography and shops who sell the respective equipment. I came across a guy who told me about a young couple who bought stuff that looks identical to the lingerie and the masks used in the photos."
"Did you get a name?"
Paul scoffed. "Of course not. But it wasn't the first time he had seen the woman. She must be some sort of regular and always pays cash. He said she likes to change her looks as well as her companions. He'll call me when she shows up again."
It was a start, but Perry wasn't satisfied. Suddenly agitated, he fished for a cigarette. "Anything else?"
"Have you heard from Della lately?" Paul asked.
"No. Why?"
"I think her husband smells a rat."
"How come?"
"When I talked to Della the other day, I noticed a car following us. I've done some digging and I'm sure it's someone Carlisle hired."
"Did you tell her?"
"Sure, I did. I told her to talk to him and to get rid of the other guy. The last thing we need is someone else getting involved. Let's hope Carlisle will play ball. Otherwise, we have another problem."
"You're right." Perry felt a headache rising. If Carlisle was already suspicious, this was doomed to become a lot tougher than he had feared.
"Of course I'm right. Listen, I have to go. I have an appointment with someone who works in the bar Della was in the night she was abducted."
"Call me as soon as possible. No matter what time of day."
"Aye, Sir."
Perry hung up and, when he looked up, he froze. Laura was in the doorway, leaning against the frame. She was dressed to the nines with an expression on her face as if she were ready to kill. Her dress exposed more than it covered and she toyed with a bottle of champagne. He tried to remember when he had spoken to her last. It must have been days ago. Perhaps almost a week? He had been too preoccupied with Della and his work to think about her. When did this happen to him? When did he start to forget about his wife?
"Hello Darling," she said too sweetly and entered his office. "I hope I'm not interrupting you."
"Of course you aren't," he answered. She greeted him with a lingering kiss that surprised him. He started to realize that she had switched into her usually quite successful seduction mode. He wasn't in the mood for games and certainly not in the mood for sex, even if it was the only thing that ever worked out between them. Over the years, they had developed a routine to cope with differences. They stopped talking for days when they reached the point of absolute disagreement and when she was sick of the silence between them, she bought some new lingerie and fixed things between the sheets. He had grown accustomed to it and, most of the time, it was the easy way to live with her, but this time was different. The last time they talked, they hadn't argued.
"Something wrong?" he asked, as he gently pulled back his chair and rose to his feet.
She smiled brightly at him. It was a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "No. I just thought we could spendthis evening together. You've been quite busy over the last week."
"I know. I'm sorry I didn't call you."
"Never mind... I know you wouldn't keep me waiting unless something very important had kept you occupied." She kissed him again and, this time, he allowed himself to return her advances. Refusing Laura would only cause another problem for him. He was sure she was already suspicious of his last week's absence and he didn't want for her to get involved in the whole mess with Della. Separating Laura from Della was essential to him, especially now that Della's reputation was on the line. Deep down, he sensed Laura would use every chance to discredit Della.
"Why don't we go out for a late dinner?" he asked between kisses.
"I'm not hungry," she purred and undid the buttons of his shirt one by one. "Just starving for you."
Sacramento
"You are where?" Della couldn't believe it. She was on the phone with Richard who had just told her he had gone to San Francisco on short notice, because 'something' had come up. It wasn't like him to leave without talking to her first. The last two days had been awful between them. Every time she had tried to talk to him, he had interrupted her, the phone rang, or he had been claiming to be too busy to talk. From Paul, she knew that it had indeed been Richard who had hired the private investigator that had followed her around. Now she was on guard when she left the house, but the black car was gone. The unspoken truths and accusations between them were suffocating every interaction, every tenderness and she hated it with every fiber of her being. But since when was it like him to avoid her? Richard had never shied away from arguments. He wasn't the passive aggressive type who hid behind meetings to avoid unpleasant situations. What had changed? Her biggest fear was that he was finally sick of her. What if he already knew about the photos and just didn't want to face her anymore?
"When will you be back?" she asked, unable to cover up the anger in her voice.
"I don't know. Not tomorrow... perhaps Friday or Saturday."
"Well, maybe you can find the time to call, when you know what you want. I'm sure Ruben will want to know, if you'll be here for the weekend." Her words didn't miss their intention. For a moment, he was silent.
"Kiss him good night from me," he said. "Tell him, I'll be back as soon as possible."
"I will."
Again, silence filled the distance between them. "Della... I think we need to talk, when I'm back."
"Yes, I guess we have to."
"Good night." He hung up and for several minutes she just stood there, the receiver still in her hand, wondering how to make things right between them.
"Mommy?" Startled, Della turned around. Ruben, half asleep with his pajama completely askew was standing in the doorway.
"Yes, Honey, what is it?" She quickly hung up and rushed to him.
"Where's Daddy? I thought was back."
Saddened by the confusion on her son's face, she stroked his hair and placed a kiss on his head. "Daddy had to go San Francisco," she explained. She bent down and took his face between her palms. The older he grew, the more he resembled his father. "But he just told me he'll be back as soon as possible."
"Are you sure?" he asked, his eyes narrowed just like Richard's when he had trouble to believe something he was told.
"Of course, Honey. Why would you ask something like that?" She was honestly perplexed by her son. Ruben was usually a quiet child who rarely spoke about the things that concerned him. Often, she feared he was too sensitive for his age.
"You said the same about Nick. Do you remember? You said, he would come back soon and he didn't."
His answer was like a dagger pushed straight into her heart. She needed a few seconds before she knew what to do or say. Gently, she pulled Ruben with her to the couch and onto her lap.
"Honey, Nick had an accident. That was horrible, but not everyone who goes away for a few days, dies."
Ruben contemplated her words and then he slowly nodded. "I think I know that, but I'm still scared."
"I can understand that," Della said softly and cradled him against her. "You know, sometimes I'm scared, too."
"Really?"
"Sure, and I'll tell you a secret. Everyone's scared once in a while. People just don't say it."
"That's not so smart, is it? I mean I don't feel good when I'm scared, but now I feel better."
Della smiled. "Do you feel good enough to go to bed again?"
Ruben nodded and slipped from her lap. "Yes, I think so."
"Good, go upstairs. I'll be with you in a minute."
Della watched her son as he left the room and felt like crying. For a second, she considered having a brandy to calm her nerves, but decided against it. Alcohol wouldn't make anything easier.
Fifteen minutes later, Ruben was again sound asleep. Della took a cigarette from her hiding place in the top shelf of her kitchen cupboard. On her way to the terrace, she crossed the hallway and startled when she saw a shadow sneaking up to her front door. Quickly she pressed herself against the wall and waited for something to happen, but the figure didn't move. Whoever it was just stood in front of the door. It was a man, that much she could tell. Then, when he moved again, she suddenly recognized who he was and sighed with relief.
"Paul!"
She hastened to the door and opened it. "Paul Drake, have you lost your mind? I almost called the police!"
He passed her quickly. "I'm sorry, Beautiful. I just thought I'd give it a try."
She put her index finger on her lips. "Ruben's asleep. Come in!" He followed her inside the kitchen.
"Do you want a coffee? Or anything else?" She asked, after she had closed the kitchen door.
"No, thank you," he said as he sank down behind the table. "Where's Richard?"
"Hiding in San Francisco."
"Oh..."
"And before you ask... I didn't talk to him, because he avoids me like the plague."
"I'm sorry, Beautiful. I told you it wouldn't get easier."
She shrugged. "I'll have to find a way to make him listen to me, but that's not your problem."
"I wish I could help you with this, but I'm afraid I can't."
She gave him a smile. "Why are you here, Paul?"
He sighed, "I'm here because I think I found something. An hour ago, I talked to the bartender who was working the night you got kidnapped."
"And?"
"He remembered you and your friends - especially you, because you were the only one who wasn't drinking."
"That's true... I had a headache."
"He also remembered another woman who wassitting at a table close to yours. He said she's a regular, but that evening, "she looked different than usual," to quote him. He used the term "dressed up like a doll". She had reddish hair and wore a mink that she didn't take off all evening. Can you remember her?"
Della shook her head... she hadn't paid much attention the other people.
"Please, Della… this is important. The bartender is sure she followed you outside. Close your eyes and think. She fits the description of the woman who bought the... lingerie in the photos. Remember that evening? Let me help you to go back..."
"What?"
"It's a great method. Close your eyes and remember the evening."
"Are you sure...?" She had wrecked her head a thousand times trying to remember what had happened. What could Paul have in store that could help her to remember?
"Trust me, Della. Do as I ask. You won't regret it!" The eagerness and hope in his voice spread over to her and she did what he said.
"Now, close your eyes, Beautiful!" He took her hand and she closed her eyes.
"I'm not sure this will help," she said, but he squeezed her hand and she did her best to relax.
"Just do as I say... Go back. What is the club like?" Paul asked. "Do you freeze in there or is hot?"
"It's sticky in there," she said. "It's hot and my head is exploding. The others are having fun, but I just want to go home."
"Good... what else do you remember?"
"I go to the bathroom... it's crowded. I'm so annoyed and search my purse for an aspirin, but I don't have any... I think someone runs into me. My purse ends up on the floor."
"Who runs into you?"
"A woman... she apologizes and helps me collecting my things."
"What does she look like?"
Della tried to picture her, but it was hard... she didn't really look at her. The only thing she did remember was her perfume. It added to her headache "She wore this heavy scent... very flowery with a hint of vanilla. I just wanted to get away from her."
"Does she wear a mink coat?"
"I don't know... but I remember her hands. Her nails were short and her polish was dark red."
Paul was disappointed, but he didn't give up. "All right... let's move on. You decide to leave. What happens?"
Della shook her head. "I'm not sure... the place is so crowded. It takes me some time to get out..."
"Slow down... do you see anyone suspicious? Look around."
The faces she remembered were blurry. There was a lot of laughter…someone is singing loud to her favorite song, "You Don't Own Me." Just before she reached the door, she stopped and looked around, curious as to who was singing... she couldn't make out the singer, but there was this one face that caught her attention. A woman who was sitting at a table with a strange man. Hit by surprise, Della remained where she was until she was sure about the woman's identity. Before the other woman noticed Della was staring at her, she turned away and rushed out. The fresh air hit her like a train and she became dizzy. With unsteady legs, she went to her car and leaned against it, reaching out for more air.
"What is it, Della?" Paul squeezed her hand. "Are you all right?"
Della opened her eyes. The realization made her breathless and she was trembling. "I saw someone that night... when I left the club."
"Good! Was it the red head?"
"No... I mean it's possible she was there, but that's not the woman I remember."
"And who do you remember?" Paul asked, excitement clouding his voice.
"Paul, I saw Laura in that club. She was there at a table with another man."
"Laura? Laura who?"
"Laura Mason."
~~tbc~~
