Mysteries Unlimited Ltd.. Donald Ph.D. Ladew
woman; nice figure.”
He continued to sort through the data. There was another picture taken at the trial. She looked puzzled; the wounded puppy look.
“Well, Jean, it looks like you got your first taste of the real and sometimes ugly world.”
Because it was a first offense, the Judge sent her to a minimum security facility in the mountains west of the Mojave Desert.
It hadn’t been easy to arrange the interview. The Warden blathered like a man with a secret. He said Miss Heely couldn’t receive any visitors.
Why so nervous, Sydney wondered?
When Sydney suggested that the newspapers might be interested in how an ordinary prisoner wasn’t allowed visitors, the Warden backed off in a hurry: Peculiar.
The entrance to the prison was in a bone dry canyon that could have passed for a western movie set. After going through three layers of ten foot fences, he filled out forms and answered rude questions from a female warder with bad breath and worse teeth, which she sucked constantly, creating truly disgusting noises.
After that he was finally ushered into a small outdoor area with cement benches and picnic tables covered with brightly colored Cinzano awnings. Several prisoners were there with family, and men friends.
Two butch guards banged long oak sticks on a nearby fence and screamed every time some desperate husband or boyfriend tried to touch that which human frailty and the law had put beyond reach.
The guards at the gate went over Sydney and his hamper like an airport security team. While he waited for Miss Heely, he laid out a checkered table cloth, two sets of silver, two crystal goblets, and linen napery. Next came cheeses, a selection of fruit, fresh French bread, creamery butter, and an assortment of finely sliced meats.
Lastly he produced a bottle labeled Dom Perignon ‘75’. It didn’t contain champagne. Apple juice was as close as he could get to champagne.
Two guards escorted Miss Heely across the yard. At first he didn’t recognize her. Her hair was cut short and she wore a shapeless cotton dress in faded institution blue. In the book jacket picture she appeared to be carrying ten pounds extra. Since then she’d lost fifteen.
Her expression was closed, wary. Sydney stood and indicated the bench across from him. The two guards moved in and stationed themselves menacingly on either side of her.
“You can leave.” Sydney waited, but they didn’t move.
“Fine.” He walked over to the nearest one with notepad in hand. The guard had a name plate and a numbered badge like a policeman. Sydney wrote the number and name down carefully. Then he looked at his watch and noted the time.
Sydney turned to Miss Heely. “Excuse me for moment.” He walked over to the other guard and repeated the procedure. Then he moved to the nearest picnic table and spoke to one of visitors.
One of the female warders got nervous, ran after him and grabbed his arm. Sydney turned into the woman and snarled. She backed up so fast she fell down. Her hand went to a large walnut-gripped pistol worn forward like a gunfighter.
“Put your hand on me again you Nazi bitch and I’ll see you wearing a uniform the color of hers.”
Jean, who had been observing nervously, watched Sydney undergo a remarkable change. Easy going, eccentric, middle-aged, disappeared, to be replaced by something visibly dangerous.
“I’ll explain this just once, Miss.” His voice was filled with disbelief at her gender. “I am here as a legal aide to Miss Heely. You are hindering me in that pursuit. The Penal code is very clear regarding my rights and Miss Heely’s rights. I want to consult with my client privately. I will ask this gentleman to be a witness that you are preventing me from doing that.”
Sydney took another step forward and the Incredible Hulkess scrambled to her feet and backed up again.
To Miss Heely he seemed to have grown a foot taller. The guard blanched, kept backing up and said nothing. He turned and walked to the other guard standing next to Miss Heely.
“You too, beautiful.”
For a moment an ugly look began to form on her face. She thought about it, then walked away. Sydney took a breath, shrugged his shoulders like the boxer he had once been and sat down across from Jean.
The closed expression was gone from her face. She looked stunned and slightly hopeful.
“One wonders what they dream of, what peculiar fantasy occupies their thoughts. Miss Heely, I apologize for the fuss, and the bad language, but I had to be certain I was communicating. In these circumstances I find short tuetonic words to be most effective. This is going to take some time, and I don’t want those Neanderthals breathing on our food.
“Oh, I’m sorry.” He stood up and held out his hand. “I am Sydney Constant Lee, Mysteries Unlimited Ltd.”
She took his hand and murmured. “I am so pleased that you could come.” Very formal, very proper. A hint of a smile formed at the corners of her mouth.
“Constant?”
She’s really quite pretty, Sydney thought, even now. “The less said about my middle name the better. It’s one of those things over which one has no control until it’s too late.”
She started to speak. Sydney held up his hand. “I know, you have a lot to tell me, but first we eat. You’re too thin.”
The tentative smile, more an attitude than a physical fact, poked through again.
“Before I came to this place I struggled, unsuccessfully for this look.”
Sydney shook his head. “For what it’s worth, I liked your figure the way it was. C’mon, let’s eat.”
She winced, unable to have the compliment. A half hour later she sat back, sighed and looked down at her waist.
“God, I haven’t eaten like this since before the trial.”
“Good. I have tea in the thermos or more ‘champagne’,” he pointed to the bottle of apple juice.
As he leaned forward to pour the juice he felt something under the table.
“Damn!”
She looked alarmed. “What is it?”
He reached under the table, felt around, then jerked his hand toward his body. It was the size of his thumb nail and metallic with a matte black case.
“A bug, a listening device. Hummph! Someone’s either very worried about you,” he looked toward the administration buildings across the picnic area, “or me. This is very illegal by the way.” He turned it over and over, examining it closely. “It’s a Cony. Nice equipment, and relatively inexpensive.
“I’ve got an idea.” Sydney stood up and spoke in a loud voice. “Any lawyers here?”
Two guys at two separate tables looked up and nodded. “I just found this little goodie under my table. If there’s one under mine...”
There was a mad scramble as the lawyers and everyone else began searching under their tables. Sure enough there was one under every table. Someone wanted to be very sure.
There was a lot of cursing and threats to sue. The guards watched nervously but were afraid to take them away from the lawyers.
Sydney held it over his cup of tea, gave her an exaggerated wink and let it drop. “Clumsy ole me. Probably the FBI installed them, or the States Attorney.
“Miss Heely, you write a nice letter. Pretty handwriting too. Don’t see the Palmer Method much any more. I did quite a bit of checking before I came. I understand why the FBI is hanging on. Ninety million recovered would mean happy faces on the wall and promotions all around. So tell me, where do you think it went?”
“Hell, I don’t know, into the electronic woodwork, I