Chapter 5

Jim Harper surveyed the woman who was surveying him. She was a tasty dish, no doubt about that. He wondered if the techs recording everything through the one-way mirror on the wall behind him had repositioned their cameras, like they sometimes did when a good looking woman was being interviewed. He couldn't see Mrs. Custer's legs, but if she wasn't careful, the techs would find out if she was going commando or not. He didn't need that kind of crap, so he adjusted his chair to one side, to block the camera's view, in case the techs had been so idiotic as to try that. He knew a filing cabinet prevented them putting the camera low on the other side.

"I'm Jim Harper. Thank you for being so gracious about all this," he said, opening the interview. "I'm sorry to have had to ask you to come in for a statement."

She waved a hand in the air, and then settled long, sculptured nails down on the tabletop again, with a series of audible taps.

"I never mind doing my civic duty," she said, blinking at him several times.

"I'll try to make this go as quickly as possible," said Jim. "If this goes to court, you'll be called to testify, of course, but your statement now will help the prosecutor plan his case." He leaned back, signaling her in body language that she wasn't being pressed. "Just tell me what you remember."

"And so I defended myself," said Jean Custer. "I took off my other shoe and hit the miserable man with it to make him leave me alone."

Jim held up a hand, trying to stop her. She was talking about Larry. She had already described how she had stomped Curly's foot, apparently unaware that the spiked heel of her shoe had gone completely through his foot. She had also described how she had kneed Larry in the groin.

All that was fine, because when she took those actions, she really HAD been defending herself. But when she took her other shoe to Larry, he'd been down, helpless, unarmed, and no threat to her whatsoever. Technically, what she'd done to Larry with her shoe was assault, because she no longer had any need to defend herself. She wasn't under attack at that point. Furthermore, the six inch spike had torn Larry up enough that it could be viewed as a deadly weapon, which would make it aggravated assault.

"I don't need all that," he said quickly.

"Nonsense!" she said, her voice lilting. She looked a little flushed ... excited. "I want other women to know that a woman CAN defend herself. That miserable little man will think twice before attacking another woman. I made him pay for what he tried to do to me."

She'd made him pay, all right. She'd almost killed him. The doctors still didn't know if they could save his left eye, and he was still on IV nourishment, because the hole she'd driven through one cheek hadn't healed enough yet to allow him to chew food.

Jean Chantal Custer insisted on making what was, in reality, a full and detailed confession to having committed aggravated assault on Larry Higginbotham. Jim groaned inside. If the defense ever heard this, there would be hell to pay. He wondered who was on the other side of the glass listening to this. That became clear when the door burst open and a somewhat wild-eyed Chief Hooks stood there, mouth open. Harper did groan then, but what the chief said next wasn't what Harper had expected.

"I just want you to know, Mrs. Custer," he said breathlessly, "that we're doing everything in our power to identify and arrest the mastermind of this egregious infringement on your liberty."

"What?" Jim looked at the man like he was crazy.

"You didn't catch them all?" Jean Custer's voice held a mixture of concern and anger.

"Yes, we did," said Jim, looking at her and speaking soothingly.

"We'll find the man who planned all this and bring him to justice, along with his three underlings!" gasped Hooks, shooting a warning look at Harper. "Detective Harper is unaware of recent developments, but you can be sure that you are safe and will remain so."

Harper's eyes went hooded. If there were new developments, then he needed to get right on them. Particularly if the Chief of Police thought it was important enough to disturb a formal interview. He had pretty much everything he needed from the victim. He had planned on just chatting with her, because she was definitely eye candy, but that was just fluff. If there was another criminal to catch, he was interested in doing that. He turned to Mrs. Custer.

"Thank you again for coming in. You've been most helpful. I'm sure Chief Hooks would be happy to see you back to your husband."

Outside the room, Harper approached Captain Hildebrand, who had been standing with the governor.

"What happened?" he asked.

"Why didn't you tell me there was a mastermind involved in this case?" asked Hildebrand. "I got caught flat footed in the conference room!"

"What mastermind?" Harper felt a tightness in his chest begin to develop.

"The chief says those three are too stupid to have planned this themselves," said Hildebrand.

"That's it?" Harper's mouth fell open. "He broke into my interview and said all that shit, because HE thinks they're too stupid to have come up with this by themselves?"

"He's probably right," said Hildebrand, defensively.

"He's a fucking moron," snorted Harper. "I talked to those idiots - and I agree they're idiots. In fact they're too stupid to take orders from somebody smarter than they are. There is no mastermind, except for the one in Hooks' mind ... and now in Mrs. Custer's mind, as well. What a fucking mess!"

"Don't you take that tone with me, detective," said Lonny Hildebrand stiffly. "You just get your ass out there and find a mastermind. If the chief of fucking police says there's one, then there IS one, as far as I'm concerned, and you'd better fucking find him."

Harper looked at his boss like the man had sprouted a third eye.

"You're as fucking nuts as he is," he sighed.

"You take that back!" snapped Hildebrand. "You take that back or you're fucking fired!"

Jim Harper was saved from an impossible situation by the approach of Jean Chantal Custer. Her arrival caused a very sudden silence between the two men.

"Detective?" Her voice was high and sultry, somehow. "I meant to ask you about that man ... the one who saved me. Have you found him yet?"

"No ma'am," said Harper. "We're still looking. We have a few leads on his car."

"When you find him, I want to thank him personally," said Chantal.

"I can't really make you any promises that we WILL find him," said Harper. "He seems to want to remain anonymous."

"My husband and I will offer a reward, if you think that will help," she said.

"A reward." Harper's mind was whirling. Who offered a reward for a witness? The guys in the crime lab had come to the conclusion that the accident was just that ... an accident. There was no evidence that the mysterious driver had intentionally hit Moe in an effort to stop the kidnapping. If anything, the evidence matched that of a hit and run type accident. "The man may not know that he helped you," he said carefully. It wouldn't do to let this woman know that if her "savior" was ever found, he might be arrested on a hit and run charge. Not that it would go anywhere ... but the wheels of justice were often in a very deep rut.

"Then we WILL offer a reward," said Chantal. "That should get him to come forward. He saved my life, Detective, and I take that very seriously."

Harper wasn't about to argue with Mrs. Governor, especially since her husband and the idiot chief of fucking police were standing ten feet away, watching the scene.

Kris looked at his tray again, but nothing else had magically appeared on it. He turned off the TV. He decided that, in the life he could no longer remember, he hadn't been interested in morning television. It was mindless, vapid in a way that made him wonder why any advertiser would sponsor it.

He was in the midst of hypothesizing that sponsors of morning TV had decided that anyone who watched it was such an idiot that they'd buy anything, when the door opened slowly. A very odd looking young woman stuck her head in.

"Hi," she said. Her voice was high and light. It sounded more like that of a girl than a woman, though she was undoubtedly over twenty-one.

"Hello," he said.

She seemed to be looking at him like she wasn't sure she was in the right place.

"You're Kris ... right?" She confirmed his guess.

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