Chapter 8: Interim Buildup

   Spencer had lain down for a nap on Libby's sofa after his long trip. Now that he was in Switzerland, he was not quite sure of his next move. The impostor had paid him well for the four months he'd been employed as...what? Butler? Bodyguard? Did it matter? It had really been for nothing except that the impostor had truly made everyone believe he was the one and only Schuyler Whitney...and that Schuyler Whitney was a paranoid angry wife-slapping murderer. Wife-slapping and butler-slapping, that night when Gavin Wylie fled from the mansion. Spencer had nearly quit and slapped him right back, but he had been there only a short time.

   He recalled the recent articles about Gunther's murder, and about Gunther himself. He had not liked the man much while working for the Bowies. He let a small smile escape thinking about Mrs. Bowie before returning his thoughts to Gunther. It was a puzzle to him still. Gunther had been a jokester and a bully at times, but he never did anything a punch in the nose wouldn't fix, nothing that necessitated murder.

   His thoughts were interrupted by a low moan from the bedroom. He got up slowly and walked to see Raven experiencing what seemed to be a nightmare. He wondered about her, what she was like before she hooked up with the impostor. He had done some research before coming to Monticello. She had been married twice, the more recent union being to the former district attorney. He'd read about the nasty custody battle over their son, Raven supplying the nastiness. Spencer wondered if the impostor was Karma coming back to her.

   Raven began to writhe. "No, no! Please, Sky, help me! Don't, don't do it, I love you! No!!!"

   Spencer frowned in concern and slowly backed away. He still wondered what to do next. Chasing the impostor wasn't practical since he had no leads on his location. For the time being, he felt helpless.


   Geraldine Saxon had not had more than two hours' sleep for over a week. Fretting over Raven and Sky was taking its toll on her. Sitting in her office and going over news stories was not helping, but Nicole was experiencing difficulties at home, and Nora Fulton seemed to be part of those problems. She wished she could fire the young bitch, but that was really up to Nicole.

   Her tired thoughts were interrupted by the phone. "Yes?"

  "Mrs. Saxon? It's Derek Mallory."

  "Yes, Derek!" She brightened up somewhat. There was a small lilt to Mallory's voice that was a welcome relief.

  "I wanted to let you know there was a break-in at the mansion two nights ago."

   Her eyebrows went up. "Again?"

  "Exactly. Spencer winged him just enough to stop the burglar. I know I should be telling your nephew this, but we can't seem to find him."

  "Spencer did what?"

  "He winged- er, shot him just to wound him."

  "How awful! I never liked the idea of him being armed."

  "It was all legal."

  "Still, I will talk about this with Spencer."

  "He left town, actually."

  "Strange."

  "He gave a statement before leaving. Anyway, we learned a few things about the burglar. He's a young up-and-coming gangster from Detroit."

  "That doesn't explain his presence at the mansion."

  "No, but it gets stranger. His attorney came from Detroit personally to bail him out. Detective Stoner overheard part of their conversation at Sid's Tavern after they left the jail. Apparently the young hood was coming to kidnap your nephew."

  "What?!"

  "Yes, it is strange. Here's the big part, someone wanted your nephew to tell them where a man named Brown was."

  "Brown?"

  "Right. From my talks with Damian Tyler, I can only come up with one Brown."

  "Jefferson Brown."

  "It's only a guess, but it makes sense given what little we know."

   Geraldine shook her head. "I can only think about Sky and Raven right now."

  "Mrs. Saxon, I know he's your nephew, but right now I'd put more thought into praying that Raven is all right. We still cannot find her."

  "All right. Keep me posted, Derek."


   Damian Tyler sat with Sky Whitney in his hospital room. He had to admit, talking to this man was a pleasure, and he was learning a lot about the Whitney family history. Stories about his cousins Colin and Keith were riveting. Learning about Geraldine in the old days was interesting, she sounded colder and more domineering when she was younger.

   Damian decided to press a bit after getting a past Whitney earful. "What can you tell me about your time in Switzerland before the plane crash?"

  "Oh, let's see. I chased women a lot, did a lot of skiing. Some business here and there."

  "Sounds like a fun life."

  "It was. It was going to get more fun when I got my full fortune. But that never happened."

  "Because of the plane crash?"

  "Because of the crash, yes. Just thinking about it gives me a headache."

   Damian nodded. "I can understand that.  What can you tell me about Jeff Brown?"

  "Jeff Brown? He was a friend...well, more of a tagalong companion. I met him in a tavern, he looked down on his luck. After talking to him over a drink, I asked if he wanted to join me on the slopes. I paid, of course."

  "He had no money?"

  "No, nothing of significance, he couldn't even afford a single hotel room."

  "So you skiied together?"

  "Yes, and as time went on, he tagged along on every excursion. I tell you, if he weren't so funny, I would have left him in that bar."

  "He had a sense of humor?"

  "Lots of jokes, lots of little games about intrigue and passwords. Strange man, actually."

   Damian smiled. "Sounds like it. You know, I saw your impostor for the first time briefly about 2 years ago in a Paris mansion he rented."

  "Oh?"

  "Yes, I was looking to talk to him about Jeff Brown but I never got the chance."

  "Why did you want to talk to him about Jeff?"

   Damian's face darkened. "Jeff Brown worked for the State Department before you met him, specifically he worked for my father. My father had been accused of stealing or losing important security documents. It was too much for him along with losing my mother and he ended up committing suicide. Jeff Brown slipped quietly away right after that."

  "I see. When he he disappear?"

  "About late 1977, early 1978."

   Sky nodded. "I met him March of 1978."

   At that moment, Isler appeared. "Herr Tyler, your Mr. Scott called."

  "And?"

  "He said he can speak only to you."


   Jefferson Brown hid in a corner of the Parisian tavern, his face partially hidden by a scarf. He was feeling like Richard Kimble, panicking whenever he saw a cop. This couldn't continue much longer. Monticello was out forever, so was Paris. He could hide in Switzerland, he supposed, he had the money. But that would get old, and it wasn't living.

   At the moment a life in Russia sounded pretty good. All he had to do was find a way to sneak into Monticello and get into his safe deposit box. The coded diary was in it. He remembered talking through his bandages to some Englishman, a spy, not quite James Bond calibre...what was his name? Devereaux! Ian Devereaux! Whoever got that disk would need to unlock it and he'd provide the key for it to the Soviets. But how to slip in and out of Monticello?

  
   Spencer heard her again. This time he walked up to her and placed a dry cloth on her sweating forehead.

   Raven moaned with a smile. "Sky?"

  "No, Mrs. Whitney, it's Spencer."

   Her eyes opened. "Spencer? Where am I?"

  "In a room, recovering. You took a bad fall."

  "Why can't I see?"

  "I don't know. A friend found you in the snow and brought you here."

  "I fell...yes, I fell on my skis. I knew that slope would be too tough for me."

  "Do you remember anything after that?"

  "No...you said a friend brought me here."

  "Yes."

  "A friend of mine?"

  "No, of mine."

   Raven hesitated. "Spencer, where's Mr. Whitney?"

  "The world is wondering the same thing. He disappeared."

  "No! That's impossible. He wouldn't leave me."

   Spencer shrugged. There was no point in being coy anymore. "I have some things to tell you, and you won't like them."

  "Why are my arms tied up?"

  "They're broken, and I think I prefer you stay tied after I tell my story."

  "Spencer! What's going on?!" Raven shouted.

Chapter 7 Enter Draper

   Isler thought he had heard and seen it all as a cop. Then he met the man who claimed to be Schuyler Whitney. Sure enough, he checked the news bulletins with the man’s face. They were identical with the exception of the beard. He believed Tyler: no man could get a thick growth of beard that quickly.

   He was with Damian as Damian got his things together to leave the hospital. “It’s a shame we can’t take the man with us, Herr Tyler.”

  “No, he’s too weak still.”

  “Do you believe his story?”

   Damian stopped for a moment and thought hard. The simple answer was yes, it made things fit in a strange way. However, it made other questions pop up, the big was being, who in hell was the other man? “Yes, Inspector.”

  “So where is your focus?”

  “Pardon?”

  “Are we still searching for the man who claims to be Schuyler Whitney or do you begin a search for the truth?”

   Damian shook his head in frustration. “I don’t think they’re mutually exclusive of each other.”

  “To me they are! My job is to cooperate with your government to bring in a murderer, not to solve a double identity mystery.” Isler’s voice then softened a bit. “I see your face clearly. Something eats at you, I know not what. The best thing is for you to focus on bringing in the murderer.”

   Damian slowly nodded. “I know. The problem is, the murderer is on the run, with a fortune at his disposal. He has the advantage.”

   Isler allowed a grin. “He was last seen in Paris.”

  “What?!”

  “A hotel employee spotted him after the newspaper bulletin was published. Even with sunglasses, the man’s features were clear.” He looked keenly at Tyler. “So how does a man become another man?”

   Tyler shrugged. “Plastic surgery, I imagine.”

  “My imagination, too. That mystery is easy. Here lies the problem: this part of Europe contains many clinics.”

   That’s when it hit. The man had a picture of Valerie Bryson, whose father ran a clinic right in Switzerland. “Kenneth Bryson!”

   Isler shook his head. “Who?”

  “Kenneth Bryson was a plastic surgeon who got rich changing faces for the criminal underworld. Unfortunately he died last summer. But I think his clinic was in Lucerne.”

   Isler nodded. “It is a place to start, but I just arrived in Bern. One case at a time, Herr Tyler.”

   Damian looked at Isler fully. He knew the man had a sworn duty, but he was also curious, just like him. It was tough, but finding the murderous double was most important. So was finding Raven. “Did anyone find Raven Whitney?”

  “No, the land was thoroughly searched. No sign of her.”

  “A body does not just vanish, Isler!”

  “Agreed. They are still looking, she has not appeared in a hospital yet…or anyplace else.”

   Libby Webster watched Raven’s unconscious form intently. Libby was a nurse from England who had made her way to Switzerland and had quite a successful career in the hospital in Bern. She was professional, competent…and quite opportunistic. She was in Bern when a friend who was supposed to have the job fell from a ski injury…and took the job herself. She was there for 5 years making a good living before an almost-dead body made its way to her attention. She nursed him, aided in his physical therapy, and was there when he finally began to speak. It was a good thing, for Schuyler Whitney had much to tell, even though his memory was patchy at points.

   Libby stared at Raven with curiosity, then thought of the woman in the other picture, a young beautiful blonde posing with Sky just as some schoolgirl would pose with a famous actor or singer, starstruck but nothing more. Libby hated both women equally, even as Raven had fallen for the imposter, whoever he was. She hated any woman or man who would get in the way of her millions…and of her having Sky for her own. The money was good and would provide comfort, but she truly loved the man for who he was…and heaven help the one who would get in her way.

   Spencer Varney entered the room and just stared open-mouthed at what he saw. “Mrs. Whitney!”

  “No need for formalities, Spencer,” Libby said with a smile. “And don’t call her Mrs. Whitney, it angers me.”

   Spencer was just as annoyed. “She’s Mrs. Whitney until we can prove otherwise. How did she get here again?”

  “I told you, her imposter husband threw her off a cliff close to where she fell. He didn’t know the drop was not nearly as long as he probably calculated. She had a hard fall indeed and has many breaks…and she apparently is blind.”

  “Both arms broken?”

  “And both legs, plus some cracked ribs.” Libby stared at Raven as she spoke. “She appears to be a survivor.”

   Spencer nodded. “Indeed. But why isn’t she in a hospital?”

  “Right now she’s safer in my room than in a hospital. Her husband is on the run and if he knew she were alive, she would be in danger again. Besides, she can help us.”

  “I doubt she will.”

  “Ye of such little faith, Spencer.”

  “You never told me, Libby. How did you rescue her?”

   Libby quietly led Spencer to the living room. “She wakens sometimes, I have to remain absolutely still then.”

  “You two haven’t officially met?”

  “No. It would complicate things.”

   Spencer thought about this. “Right, now, you’re probably right. Anyhow, back to the rescue?”

  “I’d followed them for a while, days actually. I learned where they were skiing. I was actually about to kill him in his cabin but someone from Monticello came to visit.”

  “What?!”

  “Yes, someone named Damian Tyler.”

   Spencer let out a rare laugh. “I don’t know who he wants more, the imposter to arrest or his wife to bed. He is persistent, and somehow easy to let out a little truth to.”

  “What?”

  “The night before they left for Switzerland, Tyler visited me. Don’t worry, he knows nothing about me besides former employers, but I think I gave him a clue that solved a murder the imposter committed.”

   Libby frowned. “A bit foolish, don’t you think?”

  “It was another visitor I told him a bit about, he took it from there,” Spencer shrugged off. “So what happened then?”

  “Well, the man chased Tyler down a slope and I think he tried to kill Tyler.”

  “You didn’t intervene?”

  “There was no time. The wife was coming back. I made my way to their slope and waited. She had an accident and fell. He carried her to a cliff. I think it was an impulsive decision to do it there. He threw her down, more like he dropped her. She bumped against a few rocks and screamed a bit. The snow impact made a powder shield he couldn’t see through, so he assumed she was gone. I had to make a decision: kill him or rescue her.”

   Spencer nodded in agreement. “You did right. What now?”

  “Well, there’s a complication: she’s blind.”

  “Quite a fall she had.”

  “I’m not sure it was from injury or if it’s psychological.” Libby picked up the day’s newspaper and showed it to Spencer. “He’s on the run.”

  “He’s got Sky’s money, he can spend it to death hiding.”

   Libby glared at him. “No! I won’t let that happen!”

  “Right now he has a slight advantage.”

  “I know…I know.”

   Damian had briefly phoned Miles Cavanaugh, then made a call to London. The recipient answered after three rings.

  “Hello, Draper Scott.”

  “Mr. Scott, this is Damian Tyler, Calvin Stoner’s partner. We met once or twice, I think.”

  “Yes, Damian. I vaguely remember. This is quite the long distance call, what can I do for you?”

  “No as long as you think. I’m in Bern.”

  “Switzerland? I didn’t know Derek Mallory gave vacations- wait a minute, aren’t the Whitneys in Switzerland right now?”

  “Yes, you’ve been following the Gunther Wagner case?”

  “When items appear in the London Times.”

  “Well, we have Sky Whitney as the killer, I came to St. Moritz to collect him. Only things got complicated, actually very complicated.”

  “And is this where I come in?”

  “You might. I know you went to Europe to investigate Kenneth Bryson’s clinics.”

  “Still investigating. Hard to concentrate when April’s ready to deliver.”

  “Well send her my congratulations when it happens. Anyhow, did you investigate the Lucerne clinic at all?”

   Draper lowered his voice. “That’s an open investigation right now, but I will tell you that the Lucerne clinic is a big deal.”

  “I imagine it would be. All right, I’ll lay it out for you. Sky Whitney had a plane crash in the Alps around 1978, then appeared in Monticello 2 years later. Here’s the kicker. I came to St. Moritz to arrest Whitney but he got away from me. A few days later in a Bern hospital, I met a man who looks just like Sky Whitney, except with a full beard. I talked to him and he seems to be the genuine article. So the question is, who’s the man posing as Whitney and where did he have the surgery?”

   Draper Scott whistled. “That’s quite a story.”

  “It is. I know it’s an open investigation and I don’t know what the records will show, especially if Dr. Bryson didn’t keep detailed files.”

  “I understand. Can you give me a number where I can reach you?”

   Damian gave him Isler’s office number then said goodbye. “Now comes the hard part: waiting,” he thought grimly

 

Chapter 6: A Whole New Ballgame

                                             

   Derek Mallory couldn’t believe his ears. “What do you mean you met Schuyler Whitney at the hospital? You’ve met the man, hell you’ve been hounding him in Monticello for almost a year!”

   

    Damian nodded on the other end of the line and rolled his eyes, waiting for the “Mallory Explosion” to end.  “Look, Chief, I don’t know if this is some kind of trick, but the man has a beard, a real one that can’t just grow in a couple of days, more like months.”

   

   “So you talked to him?”

    

   “Well I sat with him for a few minutes and chatted a bit. Believe me, my guard was up and he was trying to talk through a massive headache. He finally passed out and I helped a nurse get him back to bed.”

  

    Derek scoffed. “It sounds like he convinced you already.”

   

  “Hey, I don’t have any solid proof, but his story was riveting from what he could tell me. His memory isn’t clear on a lot, but if he was really piloting that plane that crashed 3 years ago as he says, it fits. And Chief?”

   

   “I’m listening.”

    “When you get a chance, see if you can talk to Valerie Bryson. Don’t let on what I’ve been telling you, just make it look like you’re checking Sky Whitney’s past.”

    “I don’t follow.”

    

   “This guy has a picture of her with him next to his bed.”

  

   “What?!”

  

   “Exactly.”

  

   “This is a heavy load, Tyler. Does it tie in with anything case-wise?”

  

   “Not that I can see. We all know who killed Gunther Wagner and Bobbie Gerard.”

  

   “Correction: we did know.”

   

    Damian frowned. “Right. If the man in this hospital is the real Schuyler Whitney, who the hell is the man I’ve been hounding? Wait a minute!”

   

  “Every minute I wait is on the Department’s bill, just say it.”

  

   “Let me ask you this: why was the man in Monticello so hostile toward me whenever I came to his house?”

  

   “Besides coming to see his wife? I’d take offense, too!”

  

   “No, Chief, it was more than that. Whenever I asked him about the plane crash or Jeff Brown, he got positively angry…come to think of it, the last time he and I spoke of it 3 months ago, I could swear he was more scared than angry. He seemed particularly interested in the length of my suspension.”

   

    Derek sat forward. “I hear you. The problem is, where’s the proof?”

   

  “Yeah, that’s always the problem. It took 4 months to get all of the pieces of Gunther’s murder together and much of it was by chance. If I hadn’t been on the Lorimer case I wouldn’t have learned about the blank cartridges.”

  

   “And you almost paid for that evidence with your life.”

   

   “Right. All right, Chief, I need to think on it for a bit. Anything interesting going on there?”

  

   “Besides my being engaged? Not really. Oh, yeah, there was an incident at the Whitney Mansion.”

  

   “Whoa, hold on. Engaged? To Jinx?”

   

    Derek smiled, he couldn’t help it. “Who else?”

   

    “Congratulations! Now what was that about our favorite center of criminal activity?”

    

   “Someone broke in and got shot by Spencer Varney.”

    

   “Spencer shot someone?”

  

   “He’s been cleared, the intruder shot first. Unlike Romeo Slade, this intruder is still alive. He apparently has gangland connections in Detroit.”

  

   “That’s bizarre. Did he say why he was there?”

  

   “No, he’s been quiet, too quiet really, almost like telling us would get him killed.”

  

   “Can’t Monticello be quiet while I’m not there?”

  

   “Well we can’t bore Calvin, can we?”

  

   “I guess not. I’ll be in touch.” Damian hung up and laid in his bed, thinking about everything…and it was exciting him and causing a massive headache at the same time.

 

   

   It was blurry at first, just a big gray blur. She opened and closed her eyes several times, but nothing cleared up. She tried to rub her eyes, but could not bring her hands to her face. She could hardly move them, in fact, they hurt like hell and could not bend…like her arms were in a cast. So she did what she always did in an unbearable situation: Raven Whitney screamed.

   

    After a moment, nothing happened. At least she heard herself scream, so she wasn’t deaf, but the vision was still not clearing. She closed her eyes and started to think, what was the last thing she remembered? In her mind, she saw the steep slope ahead, and remembered going faster and faster, losing control of herself. Sky told me it would be ok, he would be there with me.  A fast turn became a slide, then intense pain in her right leg…then it blurred. Wait, it wasn’t a complete blur…she felt Sky carrying her for a short time. Then he stopped. She could hear his voice, saying something…loving? Yes it had to be.

   

    So where was she? Where was Sky? What the hell was happening? In time, the gray turned to dark. It was night. She had apparently woken up on the edge of it. With a deep hopeless breath, she fell asleep.