

Dumb Ganger

Doppelgänger Mysteries #1

By Mary Lou. Danielson

Published by Mary Lou. Danielson

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2011 Mary Lou Danielson

Cover Artist: Mary Lou Danielson

Cover Photo by: Dorothy Danielson

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission of the copyright owner, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

This publication is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and events in this book are fictitious or used fictitiously. Any similarity to real people, living or dead is coincidental and not intended by the author. The author acknowledges that any reference to a trademarked name, has been used fictionally, and are not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

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This eBooks is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBooks may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please download an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you are reading this eBook and did not download it, or it was not downloaded for your use only, then you should return to the eBook retailer from whom it was acquired and download your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author's work.

Parental rating:

This book contains content that may not be suitable for young readers 17 and under.

It may contain mildly explicit sexual scenes or swearing.

***
DOPPELGÄNGER MYSTERIES #1: DUMB GANGER

Prologue

If you're familiar with the Southern California coastal cities of San Diego County, you will be right at home. The names of the cities are fictional for wider latitude. Places and buildings may be recognizable or purely fictional to enhance the story. People are fictional and any similarity is coincidental. To avoid jurisdictional problems, I combined all of the story's imaginary cities under the umbrella of the Diego Norte Sheriff's Department, with sub-stations in each city. Future Doppelgänger Mysteries may also take place in the San Diego coastal communities.

Chapter 1

If she'd stayed in her own warm bed on Sunday morning, she would be alive and well on Monday. Instead, in a few days, they would find her bloated body lying among the rocks on the beach.

*

Sunday, October 29, 2006, 7:00 a.m. PST

*

Who in her right mind would meet a stranger at dawn, to do photo shoots, when she could be snuggled in bed with Sam? Jennifer pulled her coat tighter against the coolness of the ocean breeze, as her long reddish hair wafted in billows behind her. She stood gazing skyward through the arched metal canopy of the gazebo near the pier. If anyone actually saw her in this deserted place, she might resemble a flamingo in a birdcage.

The rumble of an approaching motorcycle caused her to turn, to see a lengthy braid, and a manicured mustache on a slumped back rider, whose arms stretched high to the chopper handlebars. The bike thundered into a parking space and shuddered to a stop with a roar and a putt-putt-putt, before it died into silence. She couldn't tell if the rider was studying her through his smoked-lens glasses, while he removed the half helmet and suspended it from the handgrip. An earring dangled from each ear, one with a diamond. His tattoos, exposed on arms uncovered by a tie-dyed tank top, shocked her when he tossed his black leather jacket over the seat.

Oh God, she thought, this better be the photographer, because his shiny, black steed, didn't match the middle age, hippie biker.

Black boots carried a gangly body toward the gazebo, and each step up the staircase magnified his height until he towered over her. The corners of his eyes showed the first signs of crinkles. He must be somewhere near her father's age.

"I hope you're Jennifer," he said, "otherwise the slinky, red dress and stilettos, imply you're a hooker who's awake awfully early, or late, depending on your point of view."

His extended hand swallowed hers as she shook it and said, "I hope you're Dominik Doppelgänger, or I'm in trouble, alone out here this time of day. What's the matter with sleeping late on Sunday?"

"Less clutter to remove from the background, this place gets wicked before noon," he said.

Leaning to her right, to peek around him at the bike, she asked, "Ah, what kind of name is that, and if you're the photographer, where's your camera and lighting equipment?"

"I'm the photographer; who else would use that name? Dominik means Lord and in German, Doppelgänger means double image, so it makes me Lord of Bad Photography." Jennifer giggled, as most people did at his pun. "In some cultures a doppelgänger is the evil twin, so with the biker look; you never know if I'm good or bad. Call me Dop, please, but some of my biker friends call me Dumb Ganger because they're always loosing me when I stop to take pictures or do some other dumb thing. Early morning photography isn't one of them.

"The camera and collapsible tripod are in the tail bag on the back of the bike. I only need the built-in flash, because the morning sun saturates the picture with a particular light. Anything else I can enhance on the computer. Digital photography is amazing, so let's get started."

***

Jennifer was twenty-one years old, 5' 10", with blue eyes and strawberry blond hair. Her hair hung nearly to her waist, gently curving at the ends. The freckles covering her fair skin resembled the millions of stars in a clear night sky. Her long, trim legs and slim hips were perfect for a model, but her upper arms and shoulders were too well developed. She had been the star swimmer on her high school swim team.

Until a year ago, when she moved in with Sam, her boyfriend, she was an only child living with her divorced mother. She seldom sees her father, who lives on the East Coast. She and Sam share a one-bedroom apartment in a coastal town south of the pier. Both were born and raised in San Diego County's north coast communities. They have low paying jobs, so they're not ready to get married or to begin a family.

Her love of children led Jennifer to earn a certification to be a nursery school teacher at a local childcare facility. She hopes to continue her education to become an elementary school teacher. She dreams of being a model, but knowing her chances are slim, she settles for part-time jobs to earn extra money.

The one hundred year old pier, where Jennifer met Doppelgänger, extends about two thousand feet into the ocean. The metal gazebo sits near its entrance and resembles a Victorian birdcage. Sometimes couples use it for beach weddings. It's tall enough, and sits far enough from the pier, so photographs only show the ocean and sky.

Today she wore a long, red dress, which clung to her lithe body. The neckline plunged into her cleavage and the side slit revealed a slender leg. Yes, she might be mistaken for a working girl. Per instructions, her makeup was minimal, because Doppelgänger could enhance skin tones later.

*

Dop led Jennifer to his bike where he opened the tail bag. He removed his camera and two remote headsets; he wore the set with the microphone. He said, "Put on this earpiece so you can hear me talking to you. I want you to slowly move and pose, move and pose as I give you direction. Periodically I will give you a prop; react to it as you would naturally. You will range from happy, to sad, to fearful, and so on. Please show your true feelings, not what you think I want. Truth shows like a neon sign in photographs."

Moving towards the gazebo, he said, "We'll begin with a few casual shots to test the light so I can adjust the camera. Go to the center, and follow my instructions. Can you hear me?" She nodded, climbed the stairs, and began to work. Soon she forgot the chilly air.

A few minutes later, Dop said, "I like the way your dress drapes on your body, but panty lines are showing; please remove them."

Startled, Jennifer looked around, and said, "Where should I go?"

"Reach under your dress and pull them off. I'll turn my back," he said.

After tossing her panties into her bag, she said, "Ready."

"Thanks," Dop said, "that saves hours of work. Move around the gazebo and inspect it as if you've never seen it before. Touch it; caress it. If you find something strange, inspect it closely. That's it. Keep moving and turning. When you get to the next column, pretend it's the pole in a nudie bar. Work it as if you're in love with it. Good. Keep going. Show me how it feels when your boyfriend touches you."

Shocked, Jennifer stopped and looked at Dop. "That's a little personal, isn't it?"

Click, click, Dop never stopping shooting, but said, "Sex sells. Make it real if you want to be a pro or go home and forget about modeling." It took a minute before Jennifer was comfortable showing her emotions, but soon Dop said, "Good. He's touching you in all those magic places. Feel it and let it show. Work the column. Good."

Jennifer was so engrossed in her actions; she didn't realize Dop was inside the gazebo with her. Quietly he said, "Open your eyes and look at me like I'm the one touching you. Move toward me and beg me for more. I'm refusing you. Beg; beg. That's it. You're Marilyn Monroe, Madonna, every sexpot who ever lived."

Backing around the gazebo encouraging her emotions, the wind whipped her hair in sunlit swirls around her face and arms. Dop reached behind his back and handed a fluffy, white stuffed kitten to Jennifer, and said, "If you like kittens, love it. If you hate cats, show me your angst. Be honest. Don't worry about what others would do with the kitten. Be you." Next Dop gave her a picture of a ragged child in South America. Touching the photo, she frowned and portrayed sadness. Next, he handed her a rag and said it was a dirty diaper. Her reaction was less than he expected, because she changed babies daily at the nursery school.

"Freeze," he shouted. "There's a huge rat by your foot. He might bite if you move."

Her reaction was real, because she didn't know if Dop was telling the truth. She pulled her arms to her chest and made fists while scrunching her face. Frozen, she said, "Chase it away. I hate rats."

"There's no rat, so look at me with hate for scaring you." He nearly fell off the platform as he tried to avoid her onslaught, and finally grabbed her and held her tight to his body until she calmed herself. He released her and began shooting her sobbing, wet eyes.

Trying to avoid Dop's camera, she said, "Stop it. Leave me alone. That was a terrible thing to do. I'm through; I want to go home."

Realizing her discomfort, Doppelgänger dropped his camera to his side and said, "Sorry, I went too far. You captured me with your emotions. You were good."

Jennifer glared at him and said, "I displayed feelings in public I didn't know was possible. You worked me. Other photographers say pose like this, pose like that. You found my soul, but it will take a few minutes to recover from that session. Let me walk around." Glancing at Dop, she said, "You can take pictures."

Soon she was flirting with Doppelgänger and his camera as he let her take the lead, and be herself. By the end of the session, he knew he had some prize winning photos. Every picture he could sell put a few extra bucks in his pocket.

At 10:45 a.m., Dop rapped up the shoot. "Thanks Jennifer, I worked you hard and you were a good sport. Want to do it again sometime?"

Grinning, she said, "Yea, but go easier on me, okay?"

"Wait until you see the photos. You'll understand why I use those techniques," he said. "I'm going to shoot casual pictures on the boardwalk for a while. You can watch or go on your way."

"I want to enjoy the sun. I might walk on the beach," she said.

"Careful," Dop said, "you're already pink. With your fair skin you'll become a crispy critter."

Jennifer laughed, and went to her bag.

Doppelgänger sauntered toward his bike as Jen extracted her cell phone from her purse, which was half-open on the ground. He heard her squeal, "I'm free for the rest of the day, wanna meet me at the beach?...Rats, maybe another time."

In real life, Dop admired her trim body, because during the shoot, his camera shrunk her best assets. At times, he thought he missed special sights while viewing the world through a two-inch rectangle.

Since he was planning to shoot casual photos of the locals, he folded his tripod into his tail bag. He glanced toward the beach, saw his friend Sonja, waved, and locked the case. He turned to wave at Jen, but she seemed to be in a heated discussion about Sunday football. After one last glance at Jennifer, smiling at Sonja, he crossed the street.

***
Chapter 2

Sunday, 9:15 a.m.-

Earlier, when Jen left for her photo session, Sam was sleeping peacefully in bed.

He woke and saw 9:15 a.m. displayed on the clock. As the sun hit his eye, he moaned, "Morning I presume." He flopped his arm to Jen's side of the bed, but finding it empty, he remembered she went to a photo shoot earlier. In the husky voice of sleep, he said, "Tough luck, Jen." No, he thought, my tough luck, I had other plans for this morning. Grinning and thinking of their last encounter Thursday night, he pulled the covers over his head and cuddled her cool pillow. Jen had her flaws, but sex was not one of them. He imagined how the cool morning air would affect her nipples in the red dress she modeled for him yesterday. Ah, no wonder the photographer wanted her so early. Creep! He'd have words about it later. She was his, not the property of some fly-by-night photographer who wanted to make money off a beautiful young girl.

Expecting his friends to arrive about eleven, Sam rose, showered, and padded barefoot to the kitchen for coffee. None. Grabbing the empty pot, he said, "Damn Jen, at least make coffee. I could have nuked a cup in sixty seconds instead of waiting for a whole pot to brew." He found cold pizza in the refrigerator and nuked two slices, and thought it would do until fresh ones arrived for the games. Since there was no coffee, at least the beer was cold, which he used to wash down the pizza. Rubbing his belly, he said, "Breakfast of champions. Maybe they ought to feed them to the players. A few carbs are good for sports."

When Sam undressed to take his shower, he noticed Jen left so long ago for the photo shoot, her towel was dry. He grabbed it from the rack and threw it on the floor for the laundry, muttering aloud, "Sometimes she's such a pig. She'd use the same towel for a month if I didn't take care of our things."

***
Chapter 3

Sunday, 11:15 a.m.-

As Sam's friends were settling in front of the TV, his phone rang. "Hi, Jen, you on your way? The guys are here and food will be here soon if you're hungry."

"Oh, Sam," she said, "I'm tired of football. It's too beautiful to be stuck inside in front of the TV. I think I'll stay at the beach for a while and get some sun. Joanie had plans, so I'll hang out alone. Maybe I'll go shopping later, but you have fun. You'll look like a marshmallow next to my tanned body."

"Fat chance. You only burn and peel. You hanging out with your new photographer? Is he cute? Is that it?" Sam said.

"God, Sam," she said. "The guy's old as my dad and he's already making eyes at some blond chick on the boardwalk."

"Guys are never too old for a hot young girl in a slinky red dress. Did he touch you so your tits popped?" Sam asked.

"Stop it, Sam," she said. "We need the money to pay for your football parties. You stayed in a warm bed, while I froze my buns off. For your information, Mr. Doppelgänger didn't need to touch me. The cold did the job. Maybe if you didn't pass out at night, you could make it happen. You and your parties and football games are getting to be a drag. I don't need you today."

"Jen, Jen," Sam said to the dead phone. Returning to the living room, he said to his friends, "Damn women. They've got too many rules. Sex at night, but not in the morning. Don't mess up my hair and makeup. Eat your vegetables. Too much beer. Put the toilet seat down. Hang up your wet towel. Be on time. Too many sports on TV. Watch stupid chick movies and sitcoms. The music's too loud. Can't do rowdy sex 'cause the neighbors might hear. You guys are lucky, you don't live with girls."

"They have their good points," his friend said. "Sex, sex, sex."

"Yea, if it wasn't for the sometimes sex and half rent, I'd be out of here. She's too good in bed," Sam replied. "When she's in the mood."

Sam and his friends watched football until 5:00 p.m. They left him sacked out on the couch, and the apartment was a mess, but they didn't care. Sam would clean it up so Jen didn't blow a gasket when she got home. It wouldn't be the mess, but the idea of a wasted day.

***
Chapter 4

Sunday, 11:16 a.m.-

After moving down the boardwalk, Doppelgänger stopped, brought the camera to his eye, and began photographing Sonja. She laughed and casually changed poses for Dop who never let the camera fall from his eye...pose...click...pose...click. Doppelgänger wasn't sure which of Sonja's features he preferred; her bright white smile, her tight pants, or the deep cleavage peeking above her plunging neckline. He gave equal attention to each attribute, as well as the whole, beautiful package.

*

Sonja had known Doppelgänger since elementary school. In high school, her older sister dated him, but Sonja, being four years younger, was a Mussel Beach, obnoxious kid, until he returned from Viet Nam. They had both grown up, especially her chest.

She turned eighteen just before his return; he was twenty-two. She attended his welcome home party with her boyfriend, but by the end of the evening, the old boyfriend was history, and Dop was the permanent man in her life. She wasn't sure if he first noticed her long blond hair, blue eyes, or the deep-v shirt stretched across the push-up bra. She knew now it wasn't the hair or eyes, since a fair amount of her income came from nude modeling for Dop's camera. He and it made her look beyond good.

The party ended early for Dop and Sonja when they slipped out and strolled on the beach below the cliffs south of Mussel Beach. There were numerous caves eroded from the sandstone walls, which the kids used for privacy. It was all he could do to keep his fingers off her, until they reached the beach, but soon he was exploring her youthful body with his mouth and hands. Dop discovered Sonja's endowments were very real as he removed the thin layers of fabric masking her ripened form, which more than filled his large hands. Four years away in a stupid war was enough to make any young man eager for romance, but romance alone was not his main goal.

Dop had his share of shore leave during the past four years, but the best of those tiny, Asian women, fell short of the maturing teen he left behind at Mussel Beach. Quickly disrobing in the sandy cave, they both knew the clock was ticking on their privacy. Dop knew how to linger and make a woman beg for fulfillment, but urgency drove them together. Urgency to satisfy their mutual needs and urgency to finish before the cops found them. He could still feel her soft body and hear her screams of passion, which were muted by the pounding surf a few yards away.

If the cops ventured toward the occupied caves, the kids on the beach caused a disturbance to deter the original mission. Eventually, the police found them clothed, but still chased them back to the crowded beach. Dop and Sonja met in the caves at 2:00 a.m. until they found a tiny studio apartment they could afford.

*

Dominik was a wild kid. In 1960, at age seven, his family moved to Mussel Beach, when the hippies had a firm hold on the area. His older brother became involved with drugs, was later drafted into the Army, and sent to Viet Nam at the height of the war. He continued using easily available drugs. The Army discharged Matthew. Wounded and angry, the war experiences took its toll on his psyche. He and his friends had a ceremony on the beach, where each one tossed their Purple Heart into the bonfire. A week after his brother was home, Dop received his own draft notice. Matthew made him join the Navy so Dop would at least be warm, dry, and away from the floor of the jungles.

By the time Dominik received an honorable discharge, his brother was knee deep in crap. Matt was part of an outlaw biker gang, when he wasn't in jail. He lived in a run-down shack with a skinny girl with flyaway, kinky hair, and another couple who lay around smoking pot. Somehow, they managed to survive. Mathew's life bothered Dop, but he still tried to shadow the brother he adored. Mathew made him leave Mussel Beach and go to school. At the beginning of each semester, a wire arrived with enough money to pay for his college expenses, and a small apartment. After graduating with a degree in Architectural Design, Dop never saw or heard from Mathew again.

Sonja and Dop lived together for a while, but she couldn't understand his struggle to follow his brother rather than stay in school. She went her way and he went his, fortunately school won out for Dominik. During the next six years, he worked construction, married, had son, and then divorced. He never remarried.

After his divorce, he and his friend John formed a partnership, and began remodeling houses and offices. Dop discovered he loved the creativity he brought to the company. Within three years, they were so in demand, they had several employees.

Becoming more stable, he reconnected with Sonja, who also married, had a son, and was divorced. He had been photographing his completed projects. He thought the houses and offices would look better with a woman in the photo, so he used Sonja. Business doubled.

As a child, his grandfather taught him to carve, so as time allowed he began carving dolphins and mermaids, which ornamented mirrors and doorframes they installed in their remodeling projects. Sonja became the mermaid as a live and photographed model. Her ample figure enhanced his carvings.

The relationship was sometimes business, sometimes pleasure, but always friendly.

*

It wasn't unusual for Sonja to turn up at one of his photo shoots near the beach, like the one today with Jennifer. Sonja and Dop acted out a ballet of the photographer making love to his model with his camera. Some shots were from a distance, while she danced seductively around a lamppost, or so close the lens almost fogged from her hot breath. Dop didn't need an earpiece with Sonja; she knew how to play to the camera. What began as casual photos on the boardwalk brought them together physically.

Gradually, they moved to a place with fewer people. Settling on the seawall, Dop said, "I haven't seen you lately."

"Been busy," she said.

He knew her too well to accept her excuse. "What's wrong, Sonja?" he said.

Tears filled her eyes, and she said, "Money, as usual. If I get a little ahead, my stupid kid gets in trouble and I get another lawyer bill."

"He's over twenty-one, let him pay it," Dop said.

"You know he ain't got spit, Dop. If I don't hire a decent attorney, he'll get a county lawyer and end up in jail," she said.

"Sonja, you can't coddle him forever. Turn him loose and let him stand or fall on his own."

Tears streamed down her cheeks and Dop pulled her into his arms. Her warm curves turned him to jelly. The friendly kiss on her forehead soon became passion, and the next kiss was not for public viewing. His large hands molded her butt into his palms and he lifted her until her body settled against his large frame. They lost awareness of their surroundings as the fire of the moment fanned their desires.

"Take me home, Dop. Love me; hide me away from my troubles in this world. Be my savior," she pleaded.

Barely able to speak, Dop said, "I'll take you home and love you, but I can't solve your problems with your son."

Struggling from his arms, she screamed, "Pig. You're like all men. You only care about your dick. You're the stud and I'm the slut. Fuck you, Doppelgänger." She stormed away, leaving him sitting on the wall with a bulge in his pants.

He took a few deep breaths to become calmer, and let his camera dangle appropriately, as he followed Sonja. He caught her near her car and said, "Sonja, follow me home and we'll see what we can figure out about your son. We can plan some shoots for a new mermaid I'm planning. This guy has big bucks, so he needs something special."

Sonja blinked away tears, and said, "I was so dumb to walk out on you when we were younger. I might be enjoying a nice life and nice kids now."

Through his deep, gravely laugh, he said, "I'm not such a great catch. It took me a few years to grow up after I returned from Nam and its horrors, besides the public's attitude toward the Vets. There's still hope for your son. You left me because I wasn't ready for the real world. I will never be, but I found where I fit as long as the establishment lets me be who I am." He smoothed a tear across her cheek, and said, "Give me a big mermaid smile; it always sucks in an audience so I can shoot the locals."

She punched his arm, and said, "I was wrong, your camera is more important to you than your dick."

After a long, wet kiss, he said, "Not always, but they're number one and two...in either order." Sonja laughed, posed, smiled, and people stopped to watch Dop and Sonja do their magic together.

For nearly an hour Dop took photos of Sonja, two senior couples, a guy on inline skates, two girls, and a myriad of gawkers enjoying a day at the beach.

An older couple, Bert and Margie, were out for a walk in their Sunday best. In tattered opulence, they and his mothballed suit smelled of long forgotten dreams. Margie seemed a little out of it, but Bert kissed her wrinkled cheek, and weathered lips. She giggled when he whispered in her ear. After posing for Dop, they sauntered away hand in hand.

A fluffy, white puppy danced around the legs of Josh, while his wife Mary, leered in the background. Dop sensed the woman distrusted him, so he dropped the lens to the dog. This couple dripped elegance. Their dreams had become reality. Josh was thrilled with the attention, picked up the dog, and kissed its' flicking tongue. He nuzzled it to his face and wiggled his fingers at Dop's camera. His wife grabbed his arm and pulled him away.

Dominik had regularly seen David near the pier on his inline skates. Dave was a tad flamboyant in black shorts and a muscle shirt, trimmed in hot pink and sequins. He had been twirling and prancing in the background. Grinning, Dop turned his camera on David who began a new act as a wanna-be professional skater. He did flips and skated by on one foot, holding the other high in the air like a female ice skating champion. He displayed a huge, toothy grin through the whole episode.

Finally bored, David skated away, nearly crashing into Lucy and Dora. As they swore at him, Dop clicked away, catching all their fury. The second they realized they were Dop's subjects, their attitude morphed into flirty young women. They tugged their clothes up and down, to display long, slim legs, bare shoulders, and as much boob as public allowed. He finally had to ask their age, so he didn't get arrested.

It was nearly 12:30 p.m. when, alone on his bike, Dop roared out of the parking lot. Sonja sent him on his way with a peck on the cheek, and he had forgotten about Jennifer, who disappeared sometime in the past hour.

***
Chapter 5

Sunday 12:30 p.m.-

Pete's Palace was in San Elijo, on a stretch of Coast Highway, which barely emerged from the 1920s, and 1930s when many of the old buildings were constructed around Cottonwood Creek. Tall eucalyptus trees shed bark and leaves on the road and sidewalk. Some days the area smelled like a menthol factory, unless masked by coco-butter suntan lotion.

The city limited the encroachment of apartment buildings and condos along the six mile stretch of highway so small businesses could still survive. They included restaurants, bars, boutiques, gift stores, bicycle shops, surf-beach shops, old motels, gyms, and a microscopic Post Office. Beach, booze, and tacos were the theme. Many cafes had small patios with thatched roof umbrellas to shade customers from the sun. Flip-flops, shorts, and t-shirts were the accepted dress code. The only makeup was white zinc oxide to prevent nose sunburns.

Pete's was one of the old windowless buildings. It was painted hot pink and over the door, it had a black awning with pink fringe. Inside, the walls were shiny black, the booths hot pink Naugahyde, and the wood molding matched the booths. A spinning disco ball reflected flickering pink lights.

The jukebox played doo-wop and beach rock music from the 1950s, and '60s. You'd better like the Beach Boys, Paul Anka, Bobby Darren, Everly Brothers, Dylan, Baez, Joplin, Elton John, and a list too long to complete. When there wasn't football or baseball on the black and white TV, Willie played old surfing movies and surf contest footage. After football season ended, on Monday nights, Willie played old TV shows; Ozzie and Harriet, I Love Lucy, Carol Burnett, Rawhide, Andy Griffith, and dozens of others. Along with the above mentioned, photos of Elvis, The Beatles, drive-in restaurants, and muscle cars adorned the walls. If you wanted screamin' rock or country, you went elsewhere. It had everything but the dancing girls in bouffant petticoats. Pete and his partner, Willie, were stuck in times past.

The only thing modern was Sonja's likeness. Her pink neon silhouette adorned Pete's sign on the roof, and her carved figure was a mermaid which graced the corner of the mirror on the back bar.

Pete and Willie were miniatures of Dominik, with shorter ponytails instead of a braid. Their uniforms were jeans and tank tops. Tough, if you didn't like hairy arms, chests, and tattoos. It was a local's bar, because tourists were afraid to enter, especially with three or more bikes parked outside at any given time. Those neophytes who did grace the door were either pleasantly surprised by the friendly, retro atmosphere, or gravely disappointed...by the friendly, retro atmosphere.

Like many men Doppelgänger's age and older, they returned from Nam with an attitude. The US Government dealt them a dirty hand, and because the public hated the war, the hate ran to its soldiers. There was no welcome home. Young men, only skilled in killing in the jungles of a foreign land, had a hard time adjusting to civilian life during a recession. Pete and Willie served in the war together and managed to survive the impact of the drugs.

"Hey Dop," Pete yelled, as Dominik entered the bar, "Ready for a burger and a beer?"

"Is there a new menu yet?" Dop asked.

"Nope," said Pete. "I don't have enough money to bribe the health inspector to do anything but burgers and dogs."

Dop straddled a pink barstool, saying, "In that case, it's burgers forever."

Pete tossed a bag of BBQ chips to Dop, and said, "New flavor of chips today. Nobody will try them until you do. You better like them, 'cause I got a whole case."

"Pass the Devil's Salsa and anything's good," Dop said. He scooped the chip full of salsa, popped it in his mouth, and said, "It didn't ruin the salsa, so they're okay."

Pete gave him the bird, said, "Up yours," and walked to the other end of the bar.

Dop finished the bowl of salsa and asked for a refill.

While eating his hamburger, Dop, Pete, and several of the regulars discussed the weather, the Sunday football games, and the sinking state of California's economy, which had begun to slide as the real estate bubble was bursting.

***
Chapter 6

Sunday 1:30 p.m.-

An hour later, after Dominik finished his hamburger and beer, he left Pete's. He stuffed his leather jacket in the saddlebags because it was a beautiful warm afternoon, mounted his bike, and cruised south on Coast Highway.

A mile away, he turned into the parking lot at Moon Beach. He stopped near the fence overlooking the water. A volleyball game was in progress below, so he got his camera, sauntered down the ramp, and spent several minutes taking pictures of the players.

He recalled his youth on the sand of Mussel Beach. Back then, he would fly through the air to save a volley before he crashed onto the sand. Umm, not today. Having cruised past fifty, he might break a critical part of his anatomy. The dress code was the same: bikinis and suntans for the girls. The guys didn't matter so much, but they were shirtless, buff, and tanned.

Back in the parking lot, a Beach Patrol Officer was in friendly conversation with a woman. Dop took a few shots of the Law at work, but they turned away when they saw his camera. Did he encounter a look of guilt on their faces? His casual portraits often caught unexpected expressions when he reviewed the photos. The camera doesn't lie. A minute later the Patrolman rode away on his bicycle and the woman left in her car.

Hmm, Dominik thought, perhaps their conversation was not in the line of duty. The parking lot was devoid of people, so Dop fired his bike and continued his trek.

***
Chapter 7

Sunday, 1:45 p.m.-

It was amazing; Jennifer and Doppelgänger missed each other at Pete's on Sunday afternoon. Dop was pulling into the lot at Moon Beach when Jen stopped at Pete's. The pink building caught her attention and she'd heard they had good burgers. She'd only eaten a slice of toast this morning.

A minute after she entered, a man poked his head through the door, looked around, and left. Both she and Pete thought the man was Doppelgänger at first glance, but he had a scraggly beard and shorter hair.

"Hum, he looked like a friend of mine," Pete said to Jen. "Do you know him?"

"No, but he looked like the photographer I was with this morning," she said

"Doppelgänger?" Pete asked.

Nodding her head, she said, "Yes, we were at the pier at 7:00 a.m. He's amazing the way he works. I hope I can do it again, but not so early."

"He was just here. I'm surprised you missed him," Pete said. "Dop's a good guy. What's your plan for this beautiful day? By the way, I'm Pete. I own the name out front."

"Hi, I'm Jennifer. My boyfriend's glued to TV football games, so I'm going to Pearl Shores for a while, then to the Village Shops. Can't afford to buy anything, but I love to walk around and wish. I pretend to be a famous model while I try on some of the clothes. I get a big bag with a stores name on it and stuff my jacket inside so they think I'm shopping."

Inspecting Jennifer, Pete said, "I assume that isn't the outfit Dop had you wear."

Laughing, she said, "No, I had a fantastically slinky, shiny red dress. I changed before I left the beach. Funny, everyone watched me in the red dress, but I became a wallflower in this outfit."

"Then they're blind," Pete said.

"Thanks," she said, and finished her burger. She took a soda with her when she left.

Staring at the door, Pete understood why Dop used her as a model. Even in shorts and a tank top, she raised his heartbeat.

***
Chapter 8

Sunday, 2:00 p.m.-

After taking pictures at Moon Beach, Dop roared into the small, weekend flea market a few blocks away. Rosa, at the produce stall, waved to him, and said, "I got marvelous plums and peaches today. Try a plum."

The plum dripped juice on Dop's shirt and pants when he bit into it. "Oh well," he said, "it'll blend into the tie-dye. Better buy another one, so the stains will seem natural." He wiped his hands on a napkin, but the juice left stains under his fingernails.

Dop knew many of the crafters because they all frequented the same suppliers and craft shows he used for his carvings. He never passed a friend without a greeting and a photo of their newest item. Today, he bought a leather belt from his friend, Juan.

Jeanne tried to give him a bundle of flowers, but he refused. "Flowers and the wind on bikes don't get along. I'd only have stems by the time I got home."

"How you gonna take flowers to your girl friends?" she said.

He winked, and said, "I'm the only flower they need." He walked away laughing with her.

Donovan was a new crafter to the market, who sold jewelry boxes, candlestick holders, turned bowls, and other items made from wood. Dop shared photos of his mermaids and dolphins, while they discussed their similar professions.

The day was still sunny and warm, so Dop dawdled along the way home, taking more photos. He arrived home, in Derby Point, about 3:30 p.m. On the way to change his stained clothes, he flipped on the computer to download his photos.

***
Chapter 9

Sunday, 3:00 p.m.-

Sunday parking by the beach, at the Shores, was impossible, so Jen continued on to the stores at the Village. She lucked out getting a parking place near the main street. It was nearly 3:00 p.m. and people were leaving after lunch. She only had about two hours to shop, since the stores closed early on Sunday.

Sam's birthday was next month so at the bookstore, she bought a book about football. A few doors away, at the candy shop, she treated herself to a rare meeting of fudge to her tongue. She was trim and muscular from swimming, but she continually counted calories.

The clothes in the dress shops were over her budget, but she scanned the sale racks... in case there was a super bargain. She found a pretty, blue summer dress. She laughed and twirled in front of the full-length mirror. The sales girl said it was magnificent with her red hair, but at $75.00, on sale, Sam would still have a tizzy fit. She handed it to the girl, and said, "Thanks, I'll think about it." Knowing she couldn't spend money, window-shopping at a few more stores drenched her enthusiasm. She sighed and decided to leave for home.

When she approached the freeway, she knew she'd made a huge mistake. The San Diego Sunday beach traffic crawled northward, so she turned up the radio and crept along until she reached Derby Point, where she exited for gas at 5:45 p.m. Still happy from the morning photo shoot, she made a phone call.

***
Chapter 10

Sunday, 3:30 p.m.-

At home, Dop thought it's a wonderful feeling to be at the beach or to ride the costal roads taking pictures, but darn it felt so much better to step out of the shower, squeaky clean.

The lowering western sun shone in Dop's bedroom window to warm his bare chest. He caught his reflection in a mirror and turned to admire his trim physique. He was careful what he ate and tried to exercise regularly. It was often a debate whether to wear boots and ride the bike or slip on running shoes for a jog. He lived only a few blocks from the beach.

Interstate 5 bypassed Derby Point, leaving the Coast Highway to the locals and tourists. Most small towns died when an interstate circumvented their town, but many coastal cities thrived. During summer months, if you weren't at the beach by 11:00 a.m., don't bother, because parking was impossible. Dop didn't mind, because he could walk to the beach or find a smidgeon of space for his bike.

*

He'd made some dumb choices, but one of his best decisions was to move to Derby Point twenty years ago and purchase his house before prices skyrocketed. It needed major repairs, but remodeling was his profession. Over the years, it became his showplace to display his skills. Dop renovated every square inch, except the structural wood frame.

At the time, dark wood was popular, so the kitchen cabinets were made of a rich maple with light Corian countertops. The tiled floor was a similar light color as the counter, with a large colorful rug centered between the couch and easy chairs. Since Dop did all the work, his dining table matched the cabinets. The kitchen, dining room, and living room, occupied one large, open space.

On one wall, he designed and built an enormous entertainment center for his TV and stereo system, now holding CDs. Another wall housed his computer, and a thousand books in all genres. The third wall was all glass.

The house stood on the hillside overlooking the ocean. It was high enough to mask cars passing below on the highway, and at night, there was very little noise. If he was home in the daytime, he turned on the CDs to cover traffic sounds. The neighbor to the north might see a light on in his office, otherwise no one knew if he was home. Doppelgänger enjoyed his solitude, so this house fit him well. The house was much too large for one person, but he also used it for his photography studio. He sealed the garage, which housed false rocks and ocean scenes on the walls. He arranged the rocks to create lagoons for his mermaids, where they posed for the photos he used for his carvings.

One bedroom was an office, but he preferred being near the patio window overlooking the blue Pacific. In the summer, he often worked until nearly 10:00 p.m., when the last pink color faded on the horizon. Daytime was for carving mermaids and dolphins at his studio; nighttime was for manipulating photos and designing new projects on the computer at home. Photographing mermaids usually happened early in the day when the models were fresh. The hot tub on the patio soothed his aches and pains, and provided a romantic setting for certain female companions.

*

Derby Point had changed. A simple thing like turning left from his street to go into town became impossible when they put in a divided road. Now he turned right, and drove a half mile to make a U-turn to go south. It was a close-knit town, where neighbors greeted one another by name, but urban sprawl from San Diego was constantly a threat.

Several commercial blocks on the highway kept their charm thanks to boutiques, gift shops, antique stores, professional offices, high-end cafes, and dinner houses. The city allowed a few hotels to house tourists who brought valuable spending money, but buildings were limited to two stories to maintain the town's ambiance.

Yes, Derby Point was his town. He loved the entire beach area, but this was his sanctuary from the threats of the outside world. After his shower, he slipped into his usual, casual clothes and sat in front of his computer to download the photographs of the day. He didn't know then, but today's photos could save or destroy his life.

After downloading the files, he sorted the pictures into labeled files with a name and date. It was vital to find a photo when he needed it.

While reviewing Sonja's pictures, the phone rang at 4:15 p.m. He chuckled as he answered and said, "Hi, Kiddo. I was looking at your pretty face. Are you doing better?"

"I wanted to thank you for being my friend, Dop," Sonja said. "You're right about facing my problems with my son. It's tough to be a parent. You can love and hate at the same moment. I'll try to find someone who can help him." They chatted about her son for twenty minutes.

At 5:00 p.m., a neighbor called to say the shed door for his bike was open. Dop closed it, waved a thank you to the neighbor, and returned to the computer.

Just before 6:00 p.m., Dop's phone rang. Jennifer said, "I wanted to thank you for using me as your model this morning. It was fun. How soon can I see the pictures?"

"I'd love to do another shoot; these photos are superb. I'm working on them now, but they won't be ready until the end of next week. I'll let you know. Maybe we'll meet with Bruce and make him jealous," Dop said. They laughed together.

Unfortunately, Dop had no provable human contact for the next two hours until 8:35 p.m., when his friend, Tommy, called his house to confirm breakfast at Belle's Cafe. Later he set his alarm and went to bed, alone. He had a lot to do tomorrow. He thought about Jen's phone call and her pictures on his computer.

***
Chapter 11

Sunday, 6:30 p.m.-

After her phone calls, Jennifer drove to Pete's Palace and waited. She checked inside, but he wasn't here yet. She waited a few minutes and went outside. It had been a long day, but she wasn't ready to go home. She smiled as his headlights hit her body while she leaned against her car. After parking, he sauntered toward her, and said, "Thanks for calling. I've thought about you all day. The red dress was a turn-on; where is it?

"In the trunk," she said.

"Will you model it for me again?" he asked.

"After we eat," she said.

Pulling her into his arms, he said, "Come home with me, now. I'll fix something there. I missed you."

"What do you have in mind?" she asked.

Moving closer to kiss her, he said, "Mad passionate sex after I rip off the red dress. I liked that you didn't wear a bra. You didn't need it."

"Let's eat first. You'll change your mind the minute we get inside the house," she said.

"Do you blame me? You're beautiful. I've been hot for you all day," he said.

"Yea, I know what your plans were when the shoot was over. They didn't include me," she said as she struggled from his arms. "Maybe having you come here was a mistake."

He was strong and held her arm so she couldn't leave when she tried. "Don't go way mad, Jennifer. I want to be with you," he said.

Jennifer fought his strength, but he held tight. She swung at him and missed, but managed to scratch his arm. Recoiling, he grabbed her again and pulled her to his body. "Don't fight me. I want you," he said.

With as much force as she could muster, she broke from his hold, but lost her balance and fell. With a loud crack, she hit her head on the bumper of her car, and slumped to the ground. He fell beside her, saying, "Jennifer, I didn't mean to hurt you. Wake up." She wasn't breathing and a large pool of blood was forming on the ground.

"Jennifer, Jennifer, I'm sorry. Oh God, what have I done? No one will believe this was an accident. They'll think I was taking advantage of you." Panicking, he looked around the parking lot, expecting someone to leave Pete's and see him with Jennifer's dead body. "I've got to do something fast," he said.

Her purse was on the ground next to him, so he rummaged through it until he found her keys. He popped the trunk lid, lifted her body, and dumped it into the trunk. He kept her keys, but tossed the purse in beside her. A t-shirt was in the corner, so he grabbed it to wipe the bumper. Using the shirt, he slammed the lid. He didn't have time to clean the bumper completely, but in the dark, a quick wipe was good enough. He scuffed the gravel to mask the blood on the ground. Still in a panic, he roared out of the parking lot before someone saw him. The car would be okay at Pete's until he could decide when to return for Jennifer's body.

He had to go home; he'd only been gone a short time, so maybe he could make an alibi. They all knew him at the corner market, so he'd go by and pick up some soda, snacks, and maybe a steak; he'd use the credit card. It would only be ninety-some minutes from when she called. It would take Jennifer twenty minutes to get to Pete's from the gas station. It took him about twenty-five minutes to get there from home. After he bought his food at the market, he saw 7:30 p.m. stamped on the credit card slip. Jennifer's cell phone would show a call to him just before 6:00 p.m. It was the best he could do.

Sitting at the table, he forced calmness so he could make a plan. He watched detective shows; they all had a plan. They caught the bad guys when they panicked, and didn't follow it. Think rationally and work it out.

Bars closed at 2:00 a.m., so the patrons should be gone by 2:30 a.m. Hopefully, a stray car in the parking lot wouldn't be a problem. About 1:00 a.m., he'd drive around and look for a place to dump her body. The cliffs might work or the lagoon. Maybe no one would find it for a few days. He could leave her car somewhere else and they would think she had been abducted.

At 1:00 a.m., dressed in dark clothes, he left home, drove by the cliffs, and found a spot where he could park near the edge. The drop-off was straight down with big rocks below. Perfect. It shouldn't take more than five minutes.

He parked half a block from Pete's and waited until the last car left, actually Willie's motorcycle. He waited another fifteen minutes, and walked to Jennifer's car. Being dead, he knew she couldn't escape, but he had to look in the trunk. He touched her, and she was cold, surprisingly cold, but she was also stiff. Damn, he forgot about rigor mortis. He tried to lift her, and couldn't. Now what? How long did rigor last? A day? Two? He'd check the computer at home. He'd carried young women before, but they had been soft and pliable...and helped. Trying to lift her body was like trying to pick up a table with its four legs sticking in the air.

He couldn't ask for help and he couldn't leave her car at Pete's. Keeping close to the bushes, he returned to where he parked. He drove around until he found a spot where he could move her car. He parked half a block away and walked back to Pete's. Once he felt the car was as safe as possible, he went home. He would try again the next night. He didn't know how soon she would begin to stink.

***
Chapter 12

Monday, 8:30 a.m.-

Monday morning Sam woke with a start. It was 8:30 a.m. The alarm didn't sound and Jen wasn't in the bed next to him. He was late for work. Walking around the apartment, he looked for any sign of her being home during the night. There was no coffee and no breakfast dishes in the sink. He ran his fingers through his messy hair, remembering the nasty comments he made to her yesterday morning, and he was angry when she stayed away so long. He'd passed out on the couch during the game, and she wasn't home when he finally woke up about 6:00 p.m. He didn't mean to be so cruel, but she ticked him off.

As yesterday's memories returned, he wandered through the apartment feeling panic slowly creep over him. What should he do? Call her work, call her friend, and call her mom.

*

8:50 a.m. - He called her work place. Her boss said she was nearly two hours late and he hadn't heard from her. Jen never missed work, she loved being with the kids.

*

9:00 a.m. - He called her best friend, Judy. She said, "I haven't talked to Jen since yesterday morning about 11:00 a.m., when she asked me to meet her at the beach. I couldn't go, but I thought she was staying there alone. Why are you looking for her? Didn't she come home last night?" Judy asked.

"No," Sam said. "We had words yesterday, so maybe she stayed away to make me feel guilty. I don't know where she'd go if not to your house. Maybe she went to her mom's house. I'll call there."

*

9:10 a.m. - Hesitantly, Sam called Jen's mother who hadn't talked to her since Saturday afternoon. He tried to assure her there was no need to worry yet. He and Jen had an argument yesterday, so she was probably still mad and camped out with a friend. He promised to call as soon as he found her.

*

9:20 a.m. - He knocked on the nosy neighbor's door. She hadn't heard or seen Jen since she left early yesterday morning at 6:30 a.m. The neighbor said Jen didn't park in her space last night, which was right outside her window. After Mrs. Dodd closed the door, Sam gave her the finger. The old bat was always causing trouble for them.

Jennifer practically had to sneak into her car in the morning or there would be a complaint about making noise too early and waking the old lady. If Jen parked after 7:00 p.m., it was disturbing her TV. or her sleep. They requested another spot, but the manager said all the places were taken. Sam's car was noisier, so they couldn't trade. The old witch was a pain.

*

9:25 a.m. - Jen's mother called Sam to say Jen didn't answer her cell phone when she called her.

*

9:45 a.m. - Sam arrived at the Diego Norte Sheriff's Department. A few minutes later, he was introduced to Detective Fred Harley.

"Take a seat, Sam, and tell me why you're here," Harley said.

"My girlfriend, Jennifer Anisteadt, didn't come home last night. No one's heard from her. I called her Mom, her work, and her best friend. She calls her mom every morning and she never misses work. She loves it. What do I do?"

"When did you see her or talk to her?" Harley asked.

"She left yesterday morning at 6:30 a.m. for a photo-shoot; she's a part time model. I talked to her about 11:00 a.m. It's the last I heard from her," Sam said.

"Did you check the hospitals or the Detention Center?" Harley asked.

Frowning, Sam said, "Oh, I didn't think of that possibility; she could be hurt, but not in jail. She never gets in trouble and she never drinks."

Harley called his partner. "Sam, this is Detective Caren Ross. Give us Jennifer's name and description and Ross can check Detention and the hospitals."

Rubbing his head, Sam said, "Her name is Jennifer Anisteadt. She 's twenty one years old with long, straight, reddish hair, blue eyes, 5' 10", about 110 pounds, red fingernails, and she wore a long red dress and red shoes when she left. She drives a small blue Sierra, but I don't know the license number."

"Good job, Sam." Ross left and Harley continued his questions. "Are you and Jennifer married?"

"No," Sam said, "but we've lived together about a year. We went to high school together."

"When you talked to her yesterday morning, was she happy? Did she sound okay?" Harley asked.

Frowning, Sam looked away and said, "We had an argument. My friends were coming to watch football and she said she was tired of spending Sundays watching TV. She wanted to stay at the beach, so I yelled at her, and I let off steam when she hung up. I said some bad things about her to my friends, but I didn't mean them. Jen's a nice girl. I love her a lot."

"If you had a disagreement, maybe she stayed with a friend or a boyfriend?" Harley asked.

"I'm her boyfriend," insisted Sam. "If she stayed somewhere else, she would have gone to work and called her mom. She's close to her mom; she calls every day. Sometimes I teased her about being a momma's girl, but it's cool. It's better than hating your parents."

"You said Jennifer left early for a photo-shoot. Where did she go and who was the photographer?" Harley asked.

"She went to the pier," Sam said. "She didn't know the guy, but her friend set it up. I think his name was Doppelgänger. We laughed about the name and tried to guess what he looked like. When she called, it sounded like they were done."

Ross returned, and said, "There's no record of her in the local hospitals or County Detention. Got the license number of her car and it wasn't picked up or ticketed."

Handing her a note, Harley said, "Thanks, Ross. See if you can find a photographer by this name. They were together." He turned back to Sam and asked, "Are there any neighbors home this time of day or do they all work?"

"Most work," Sam said. "I checked with the nosy neighbor across the hall, but she didn't hear Jen come home or leave. There might be three or four people home."

Ross returned the note to Harley, and said, "There's only a few Doppelgänger's in the area. One is a photographer/carver who lives at Derby Point. He has a studio in the art district in Sultan's Beach."

"Thanks, Ross. Let's follow Sam to his apartment and check around. If there's still no word we'll go talk to Doppelgänger."

"Thanks, Mr. Harley," Sam said. "I'm worried about Jen. This isn't like her, at all."

***
Chapter 13

Monday, 10:00 a.m.-

Inside Sam's apartment, Harley looked around, and said, "This place is spotless. You have a maid?"

Laughing, Sam said, "Just me. My Mom raised us in a pig pen, so I decided I wanted clean when I had my own place."

Harley studied Sam, and said, "How many were at this party?"

"Me and two friends. We had pizza and beer," Sam said.

Harley pursed his lips as he noticed the trashcan was empty and the leftover pizza was in the refrigerator, wrapped in plastic. The beer cans were lined up like tin soldiers in the back of the frig. "As a precaution, can we take the clothes you wore yesterday and a DNA sample?" Harley said.

"Am I a suspect for something?" Sam asked.

Shaking his head, Harley said, "If Jennifer has been harmed, it's a way to eliminate suspects, especially those close to her. We'll bring a bag after we talk to the neighbors."

Sam gave his DNA, but said, "If you find her car, ah, without her, I used it all the time. You'll find as much of me in it as her. Same for the apartment. We shared everything except toothbrushes, and even those in an emergency. She wore my shirts and shorts too, but I didn't wear her clothes, except a jacket or sweatshirt when I forgot mine."

Harley waved a hand at Ross, and said, "You get all that Ross?"

"Yes sir," she said. As he shoved his hands in his pockets, Sam seemed a little nervous.

Ross took photos of the apartment, Sam's closet, and Jennifer's closet. "Jennifer isn't as neat as you. There's a torn shirt on the floor. Do you know why?" Ross asked.

After exhaling a big breath, Sam said, "We were wrestling and I tried to pull it off, but it tore. The neighbors will tell you they report us sometimes. We fight for real, too, but we never hit each other, we just yell...loudly. Actually we scream."

"About what?" Harley asked.

Sam blushed, and said, "Sometimes about Jennifer running around in her underwear with the curtains open, about money, about how much I watch TV, sports, but mostly about her messes. She leaves crap all over the house. She'd leave dirty dishes in the sink until the cupboard was bare if I didn't put them in the dishwasher. Sounds like our roles are reversed, huh?"

Harley grunted an affirmative, as he glanced at Ross to be sure she was still making notes.

Outside, Ross wandered near Sam's car and glanced into the windows. "Hey Sam," she said. "Does your maid clean your car, too? It looks like it's new off the lot. There's not a scrap of trash, no food wrappers, no soda cans, fortunately no beer cans, nothing. Want to clean my car?"

Sam laughed, and said, "I'm always cleaning out Jen's junk. Saturday I filled two shopping bags and tossed them."

Harley joined them at the car and asked, "Mind if we look in the trunk? It will eliminate questions, if Jen doesn't turn up."

Sam popped the trunk and it was spotless as well. Harley raised his eyebrows as he looked at Ross, and said quietly, "Ever see a trunk this clean, Ross?" She shook her head and scraped her fingernails over the carpet. If there were traces of blood on the fibers, they could find a reason to get a warrant for a more thorough examination.

***
Chapter 14

Sam led Harley and Ross back to his apartment, where they looked around again. Ross asked, "How do you know Jennifer didn't get up early and leave?"

"Jen always has the same cereal for breakfast in the same bowl." Sam reached into the cupboard and brought out a bowl covered with cats. "We bought it at the swap meet. She eats, and leaves it in the sink for me to wash. It was in the cupboard this morning. If she gets up first, she makes coffee. No coffee today."

"Could she have been too late to shower and eat?" Harley asked.

"She's not at work, remember?" Sam said.

Sam led them to the bathroom and pointed to a pink towel. "Her towel is dry, too. She showers in the morning and the shower was dry." In the bedroom, he lifted a watch from the dresser. "She didn't wear this yesterday, but she would have worn it to work. She has too many clothes and shoes, so I can't be sure if anything is missing...except the red dress. That's too obvious, and there's no pile of dirty clothes on the floor. The basket is next to her closet, but she doesn't use it." Looking at the bed, he said, "If she came to bed, I didn't know it."

Returning to the living room, Harley said, "Give us the names and numbers of your friends from yesterday and let's see if a neighbor saw her."

Harley took a photo of Jennifer and he and Ross went from door to door, but only found two residents at home. One person gave a flat, no, when Ross asked if he had seen Jennifer.

The other was the nosy neighbor, Mrs. Dodd. She took Harley to her window overlooking the parking lot. Poking her finger outside, she said, "The parking space below my window belongs to Jennifer. She left early yesterday morning and has not been home, at least her car has not been home. I never heard her voice in the hall, either. Praise God, they didn't fight last night, so I finally got a good night's sleep."

"How often do they fight?" Ross asked.

"Daily. Sometimes it sounds like play, but mostly it's real. Her boyfriend is a hothead," she said.

"Did it sound like they hurt each other?" Ross asked.

"During the play fights, the girl yells for him to stop hurting her, but during the real fights, they scream," Mrs. Dodd said.

"How do you know the difference?" Ross asked.

"They laugh during the play fights, but they're angry in the real ones," Mrs. Dodd said. "If she's missing, her boyfriend did something to her."

"Thank you, Mrs. Dodd. Call us if you think of anything else," Ross said.

Before they left, Sam called Jen's mother and Harley called her work. She was still missing, so Harley said, "Where were you after your friends left?"

Chewing his lip, Sam said, "I woke up about 6:00 p.m. and stayed home. I didn't know where Jen was, so I went to bed about 10:00 p.m. I wasn't feeling so hot."

"Yea," Harley said. "And she doesn't stay out at night?"

"No, never," Sam said, "unless it's a party with her friends, but that's planned."

Harley said to Ross, "Let's find Doppelgänger."

In the parking lot, Ross and Harley went through the trash bin with Sam's direction, and took two bags of trash.

Handing him a card, Harley said, "We'll get back to you, Sam. Here's our phone numbers."

***
Chapter 15

Monday, 6:00 a.m.-

Many mornings, for breakfast, Doppelgänger walked, or jogged, to Belle's Deli less than a mile into town. He ordered her hot, steamy coffee, a bowl of fresh fruit with yogurt, and a bran muffin to begin his day. Tables, under umbrellas, dotted the patio by the sidewalk. It was a toss-up whether he ate alone with his newspaper, or chatted with friends who joined him.

This Monday, Dop left his house at 6:00 a.m., and jogged to Belle's. Tommy arrived about 6:30 a.m., in his car.

"Mornin' Dop," Tommy said. "I don't see your bike; did you run today?"

"Yea," Dop said. "Gotta keep my boyish figure to get the girls. Not all of us are married to a gorgeous wife to keep their bed warm."

Grinning, Tommy said, "Like you have any trouble finding a woman, but then again, you're here at 6:30 a.m. in the morning, alone. Tough luck, buddy. I guess the She Devil is your only permanent girl."

"She fits between my legs just right, but she's still lacking something. I like a softer body in my bed. Speaking of tough luck, how's your bike doing? Get it fixed yet?" Dop asked.

"No," Tommy said, "but the part should be here tomorrow. I'm climbing the walls because I can't jump on my wheels and zip up the coast. We need to plan a trip soon. Can you take some time off?"

"If all goes as planned, I'll have my latest dolphin delivered by the end of next week. It goes to L.A., so I can get away after I'm done. We can't wait too long, or it will be Thanksgiving, and you know my sister Megan will have a fit if I'm away from family that weekend. She's worse than our mom is," Dop said. "Are you having a big do at your house?"

"Of course," Tommy said. "Missy and your sister are from the same mold, but it's worth it."

Belle delivered their breakfasts, but Dop groaned as he compared his healthy fare to Tommy's bacon and eggs. Poking his spoon at Tommy, Dop said, "Don't call me to rush you to the hospital because you're having a heart attack."

*

Dop was enjoying a Monday at home with a fresh coffee after he met Tommy for breakfast. He made a sandwich about noon.

At 1:00 p.m., Doppelgänger had resettled in front of the computer, when the doorbell rang. Annoyed, he hoisted himself from his chair and strolled to the door. Through the peephole, he could see a man and a woman dressed in suits. Since customers occasionally came to his house, he opened the door, and said, "If you're salesmen, I'm not buyin'. If you're a customer, come in."

Harley scanned Doppelgänger from head to foot, all 6' 4" of him. His long, dark hair was loose around his shoulders; he wore old jeans, a tie died tank top, and he was barefoot. Tattoos covered his fore arms. The left was a well-endowed mermaid and the right a dolphin jumping from the water. One earring was another mermaid, in the other ear a dolphin dangled from a large diamond stud.

In turn, Doppelgänger surveyed the two people standing on his doorstep. Somehow, he didn't think they were sales people or customers.

Naturally, Dop examined the attractive woman first. Very nice. Tall and slender, maybe 5' 10", mid-thirties, brunette, short curly hair barely above her alert brown eyes. Nice shape, but not a mermaid. Funny how he measured the women he met for a mermaid carving. He'd never seen an electric purple pantsuit before, but it seemed to fit her persona. She stood with authority; this might be trouble.

He was more convinced when he turned his attention to the older man who was an inch shorter, verging on portly. The classy woman made the man seem drab in his off-the-rack brown jacket, barely ironed shirt, and grey striped tie. Haircut from an el-cheapo barber shop. Cops?

Squaring his shoulders, Harley displayed his badge. "I'm Detective Fred Harley from Diego Norte Sheriff's Department. This is Detective Caren Ross. We're here about the disappearance of Jennifer Anisteadt. May we come in?"

Knowing not to refuse, buy wary, Doppelgänger said, "Sure, come in. Coffee? I made a fresh pot."

"No thanks," Harley said.

Dop led the detectives to the dining table, which overlooked the Pacific Ocean. Harley surveyed Doppelgänger's show place and said, "Nice digs."

Without his usual sales pitch and grand tour, Dop simply said, "Thanks. Take a seat. What happened to Jennifer? I was with her Sunday morning at the pier, from about 7:00 a.m. until about 11:00 a.m. I'm a photographer and she was my model. She was talking to someone on her cell phone about football when I left her standing near the gazebo."

"Yes she was, but she never came home last night. Her boyfriend reported her missing this morning. What can you tell us about yesterday?" Harley asked.

Lifting his pocket watch from the table, Dop said, "Minnie says it's 1:15 p.m. Didn't take you long to find me. Am I a suspect?"

In Harley's experience, curt replies and a crude appearance usually meant a crude attitude, or worse. From his age, Doppelgänger may have been in Viet Nam. Many men had trouble assimilating when they came home. The prominent tattoos often indicated a lack of respect for authority, although they were more detailed than an enlisted man usually had. Facial hair, with the long mane, and elaborate tattoos, were a sure warning of a rebel. Harley was confused by Doppelgänger's lush surroundings in an affluent city.

Not sure what to think of this man, Harley said, "We're not sure there's a crime yet, but as far as we know now, you were the last to see her. We would appreciate your cooperation."

Considering his status, Dop said, "I don't mean to appear uncooperative, but my appearance and lifestyle sometimes get in the way of prudent police investigations, and I don't know you."

Grinning and nodding, Harley said, "And I don't know you, so let's keep it informal for now, okay? First thing I need to know is, did Jennifer say where she was going?"

"Nothing specific to me," Dop said. "I overheard her say she didn't want to watch football on a gorgeous day like yesterday, and she mentioned the beach. She made two calls while I was packing my equipment. I only met her yesterday and I don't know who she called. I waved and went on my way; she went hers. About 6:00 p.m. she called to say thank you for using her as my model."

"But you weren't with her during the afternoon?" Harley asked.

"No," Dop said. "I didn't see her leave."

"So you didn't see her to her car?" Harley asked.

Laughing, Dop said, "Detective, I work with adults. It was nearly noon, in a public parking lot, near a public beach, which was becoming quite busy. Employers rarely escort their employees to their cars after hours, especially in broad day light, in a safe part of town."

"Fine. Did you see anyone lurking in the area?" Harley asked.

Unconsciously, Dop rubbed his fingers over the mermaid on his arm, and said, "There were at least twenty people in the immediate area, and dozens on the beach and pier. I don't recall anyone who caught my attention, but I can look at my photos. I took some general pictures before I left. People fascinate me."

"I'll need your camera," Harley said.

Shaking his head, Dop said, "No can do. I'll be glad to download all the pictures from the shoot and any I took afterwards. Give me an hour and you can come back for them. It may take a few CDs, unless you brought an extra hard drive or a large Flash Drive."

Harley looked at the computer, and said, "We can take the computer to my guy at the station and he can return it by Friday."

Dop's stare turned cold, as he said, "My computer goes nowhere. My business and photos are all on that piece of equipment. It stays here. Call your guy, tell him to bring his laptop, and we can down load it together in an hour. He can sit there and compare his photos to mine, but no one touches my computer, except me."

"Mr. Doppelgänger," Harley said, "this is official police business. If you chose to be uncooperative, I can get a warrant."

Running his tongue over his teeth, Dop glared at Harley. He rose, towering over the detective, reached for his wallet, but stopped when Harley jumped to his feet and pulled his gun.

"Hold still Doppelgänger," Harley said. "Hands on your head and turn around slowly."

Dop followed orders. "Detective Harley, my wallet is in my back pocket. My attorney's business card is in my wallet. My attorney is my brother in law, Stephen Larson, and his father is County Judge Erle Larson. They will be happy to assist with a search warrant if you don't trust my cooperation."

Harley hesitated, lowered his gun, and said, "Take out your wallet slowly, with two fingers."

Scoffing a "Sure," Dop complied.

"Set the wallet on the table and sit down," Harley ordered. Dop obeyed again as Harley opened the wallet with his pen.

Dop laughed and said, "Did you think I had a bomb in there in case the police happened to show up today to harass me?"

"Better safe than sorry," Harley said. "Take out Larson's card."

Dop did as told and pitched it to Harley as a poker dealer tosses his cards. Harley inspected the card and said, "Call him so we can get on with this. I don't want to spend the whole day here. I want to find the missing girl, but I can't leave you alone with your computer."

"Too late, Harley," said Dop. "I've already had twenty four hours to manipulate or destroy any photo I chose. Call your computer guy, leave Miss Ross to guard me, and you can go on your way. Ross, do you understand computers?" She nodded. "Can you tell if I'm deleting a file?"

"Yes, Mr. Doppelgänger, I'm certified to examine computers," she said.

"Good," Dop said. "Let Ross look through the photos with me until your expert gets here, then we can download them so he can take the whole lot to his lab. The sooner we finish, the faster I can get back to work, and the sooner you can find Jennifer. I'll call Stephen so he can be prepared for further questions."

Harley considered Doppelgänger's plan, and asked, "You don't want your lawyer present?"

"Detective Harley," Dop said, "do you think I'd suggest this if there was incriminating evidence on those pictures?"

Pointing his finger at Dop, Harley said, "If I get word you messed with evidence in any way, I'll bury you. Got it?"

"Fine," Dop said as he dialed his attorney's phone number.

After the call, Harley asked, "Everything okay as we agreed?"

Dop said, "Yes, but I won't answer any intimidating questions, got it Ross?"

"Ross, if he isn't cooperating, call me," Harley said.

"Yes Sir," she said.

Harley stomped toward the door while he called his computer expert, John Marcus.

Once alone with Detective Ross, Dop asked, "Coffee? I need a heat up."

Ross nodded and said, "Thanks," when he handed her the large warm mug.

Immediately, Dop moved another chair to the computer, and opened his photo storage program. "Sit there and let's get started. I sort all of my photos into folders with common names and dates. See how they're listed?" Ross nodded. "I'll open whatever you want to see, and then we'll examine the ones from yesterday." They opened and viewed various photo folders until Ross was satisfied with Dop's filing system. After fifteen minutes, he opened the file labeled, "Jennifer 10-29-2006." As they scanned the photos for consistency, Ross saw each photo had the same date imprinted on the lower edge. After opening properties, Dop pointed to the lower corner and explained the metadata information with each photo, which gave additional information on the location, time of day, camera used, settings, etc.

"Can you change the time and date?" Ross asked.

"Yes," Dop said, "but we know these were taken yesterday. You can estimate the time from the shadows, since we know the locations. If I alter a photo, I always keep the original intact."

Ross agreed on the proper dates, but asked, "Can you search for a date from the main menu?"

Dop returned to the menu and did a date search. All the photos listed, were in Jennifer's file, or those labeled Sonja or Beach. He was careful to have Ross follow his movements. They began the review in chronological order.

The photos showed Jennifer standing on the gazebo in the first photo. It was clear the initial pictures were to test the lighting and shooting angles. After fifty shots, the day's business began. The following three hundred photos were professional poses of Jennifer. After they finished the session on the gazebo, Dop continued to shoot casual pictures of various local beach goers. Ross commented on Dop's ability to draw people to his camera. The pictures told a story the subject wasn't aware he or she was telling. At first glance, no one seemed suspicious or was nervous with the photos.

"Did anyone refuse to allow you to take their picture?" Ross asked.

Frowning, Dop said, "Surprisingly, no. Usually a few refuse, but not yesterday. Happiness and good will abounded among the participants, except the tall older woman who looked at me as if I was dirt. Her husband ate it up. Some begged to be included in my days work. Huh, some gave me their addresses to send prints." Dop rose, got his notebook, and began to make copies for Ross. "Maybe someone saw something I missed or encountered a suspicious person. Here, give these to Harley," he said as he passed the pages to Ross.

"How do you know which picture is which name?" she asked.

"There's a number on the camera screen, which I wrote next to the names. I'll compile a list and email it to you. I hope it will lead somewhere. I only met Jennifer yesterday, and she seemed like a nice young woman. She seemed happy and eager for a casual Sunday afternoon."

"But she didn't give a clue to what she had planned?" Ross asked.

"Her phone calls were out of hearing range. The only thing I heard was when she raised her voice and said she didn't want to waste time in front of the TV watching another football game when she could enjoy a beautiful day at the beach. Ah, it sounds like she planned to remain at the beach somewhere," Dop said.

"Did you see a swim suit?" Ross asked.

"You know, she wore something under her dress which made pantie lines. I asked her to remove it, so she turned around, slipped it off, and tossed a blue piece of fabric toward her purse. It could have been a bikini bottom."

"Did you see a bikini top?" Ross asked.

"No," Dop said. "At least nothing which interfered with the lines of the dress. The dress may have had a built in bra, but she was young enough it didn't matter."

Ross raised an eyebrow, "Oh?"

"In photos, perkiness matters in young models. As a man, it's not unusual to notice those things," he said.

"So you're a...uh, mature man ogling young girls?" Ross asked.

"Ha," he laughed. "Eyes and appreciation don't necessarily decline with maturity, or age. When will you cease to notice a buff young or older man? Want to see my folder on women ogling men? And yes, I did one on men ogling women, or other men." They laughed together, but the doorbell interrupted the hilarity and the computer expert arrived.

John Marcus brought his laptop and cables to transfer Dop's files. After listening to Ross and Dop describe the folders, Marcus said the dates could be manipulated, so he took all the photos from the computer.

"I own those photos," Dop said. "They better not appear on the Internet."

"The files are encrypted," Marcus said. "The laptop is locked up when it's not in my possession."

"Encrypted until some ten year old finds it?" Dop said.

Marcus ignored Dop's comment, but said, "I'll give you a ride back to the station, Ross. I'll start on this first thing in the morning."

Dop raised an eyebrow, and commented, "While a young woman is out there somewhere, maybe waiting for help? Good police work, Marcus." As the detectives departed, Dop said, "You're welcome, officers. Glad I could assist you."

Ross called, "Thank you, Mr. Doppelgänger."

In the car, Marcus asked, "Hey Ross, you got a thing for the old hippie?"

"Shut up, Marcus," she said. "He has more class in one toe than you do in your whole body. Turn on the lights and get me back to the station ASAP so I don't need to look at your sorry face."

Marcus said, "He may be a murderer, Ross. He was the last one to be with her, right?"

"Dorkus," she addressed him in the pet name she used for a man she despised, "didn't you ever read our criminal law books? Innocent until proven guilty. He's given us his entire photo file. Why would he give us proof he harmed Jennifer?"

Marcus ignored the derogatory name, and said, "He had plenty of time to remove or alter evidence. I'm going to look at those photos with a microscope and nail him if anything is amiss."

"You do that, after you examine them for clues to what happened to Jennifer. It's the only thing we have," Ross said.

"The best clue is a mid-aged guy who may have been turned down by a hot, young girl," Marcus said.

Ross rolled her eyes and said, "Those final photos show a young woman at ease in her surroundings. If Doppelgänger made an unwelcome move, she would not be standing around so casually. She would be gone or watching him very carefully."

"Maybe she was opting out of a day with her boyfriend to go with Doppelgänger. It would explain the casualness," Marcus said.

"Yes," Ross said. "But, it wouldn't explain why Doppelgänger hung around for another hour photographing strangers. If you had a date with a hot woman, would you delay the possibilities?" Ross threw her head back and laughed, saying, "Forget it Dorkus, you wouldn't know what a hot date is."

"Very funny, Ross. Who's married in this car, and who's not?" Marcus said as they entered the station parking lot.

Pointing to the front door, Ross said, "Drop me there so I can end this trite conversation and get some work done. Make copies of those pictures, please. Oh, and give my condolences to your lovely wife." Ross exited the car before he could reply.

At her desk, Ross called her partner. "Hi, Harley, I'm back in the office. Doppelgänger had tons of photos of Jennifer and the surrounding area and people. Nothing jumped out to give us any clues. He had names and addresses of people in the photos, which he gave to us. He's an amazing photographer."

"What do you mean; he had names and addresses of supposed strangers?" Harley asked.

"Apparently, Doppelgänger's camera is a magnet to interesting people. If they request a copy of the photo, he sends a print or emails an attachment. He's a personable guy," she said.

"Ross, remember he may be a suspect down the road. Don't let his charm sway your judgment," Harley said.

"God Harley, you sound like Dorkus, sorry Marcus. I'm a professional, but I can still appreciate quality. I'm working the list of names, so we can conduct some interviews. Doppelgänger also gave me a list of places he visited after he left Jennifer. I'll email the list to you."

"Good," Harley said.

*

Thirty minutes later, Harley called. "I found the bar, Ross. Doppelgänger is a regular and the bartender confirmed he was there around noon for a burger. He was alone. The flea market is only open on weekends, but I found the phone number of the promoter. I missed lunch, so I'll get some food and meet you at the station so I can see those photos. By then you may have some witnesses to interview."

"I missed lunch, too, how about me?" Ross asked.

"Skip a few meals and you might be able to be a model for Doppelgänger," Harley said.

"Very funny, Harley," Ross said. "That borders on sexual harassment. Bring a super taco from Casa Taco. Lots of hot sauce. I need some spice in my very dull life, and shut your mouth before you get yourself in trouble."

***
Chapter 16

Monday, 4:10 p.m.-

Harley arrived at the station with a taco for Ross. Tossing the bag on her desk, he said, "Let's find Marcus; I want to see those pictures." He strode past her, going toward the computer lab.

As they entered the lab, Ross saw Marcus' laptop on his desk, but he was nowhere around. She said, "Doppelgänger was concerned with the security of his pictures. Dorkus assured him the computer was locked up when not in his possession."

Hands on his hips, Harley said, "Enough with the Dorkus. This is a team so we work together as one, but I'll address the security of evidence."

Marcus entered and nodded to Harley, and said, "Got those pictures down loaded. Took another quick look, but didn't see anything suspicious. I'll bring them up on the computer so you can look, too."

While the photos were loading, Harley said, "Is that the department laptop?"

"Yes," Marcus said.

"Keep it locked up when you leave your desk. There's evidence on it. Do you remove evidence after it is down loaded to your office computer?" Harley asked.

Looking at Ross, then back to Harley, Marcus said, "Yes Sir, I'll keep it locked up and I'll remove unnecessary evidence."

Ross bit her lip to keep from grinning. She and Harley focused on the computer as pictures appeared on the monitor. Marcus began the slideshow, and said, "Tell me if you want to stop or change speed. Many seem to be duplicates, because Doppelgänger was shooting multiple shots for each pose. She's a beautiful woman. He said he communicates to her through an earpiece, so the model can casually change poses without stopping. If you speed up the slideshow, you can almost see her moving."

Raising his eyebrows, Harley said, "Yea, I can see why he likes photographing young girls. She's wearing a dress, but might as well not be, the way the sun shines through it."

Ross said, "She's a woman, Harley. She's twenty-one years old. He's not a pedophile, for God's sake."

Marcus laughed, and said, "I think Ross has a crush on him."

"Dorkus, you're a jerkus," Ross said.

"Children, children," Harley said, "Let's behave like adults and review these photos. I haven't seen any cars or other people yet. Fast forward to something which might be a clue. By the times on those photos, he shoots several per minute, right?"

"Yes," Marcus said. "There's very little time between shots to be social. If he was hitting on her, I don't see where it was. She never looks at him as if he is saying something unpleasant, except for a short period when Ross said he made her display fear, and she was upset for a few minutes. There was a two-minute break, and the shooting resumed as before. Even from the time of his last shot of Jennifer on the gazebo until she was on the phone, there was only five minutes. From the last gazebo shot to his first beach shot, was only ten minutes. There was a five-minute break after she displayed fear and anger, but the photos resumed as she walked around. The only other big break was in the beginning for about three minutes."

Ross said, "That's probably when she removed her bikini bottom."

Both men whipped their heads toward Ross, and Harley said, "She did what?"

Laughing, Ross said, "Doppelgänger said her bikini bottom was making a line on the dress. He asked her to remove it. She turned her back and pulled it off. Go back to the first photos and you can see the difference. He thought she planned to stay at the beach all along, after remembering her phone conversation with the boyfriend. She said she didn't want to watch football when she could be at the beach."

Harley glared at Ross, and said, "When was I going to hear about her stripping and staying at the beach?"

"God Harley, you've been here five minutes looking at pictures, and she didn't strip. She had on a long dress," Ross said. "Girls get creative when they change clothes in public."

Slamming his fist on the table, Harley yelled, "Forget those damn photos and let's see your list of beach people. Finish your taco and let's move it. Marcus, you keep checking the beach people's shots and the surrounding area." Harley flew through the door with Ross at his heels, stuffing the taco into her mouth. He halted at her desk and picked up her paperwork. "Is this the list of people Doppelgänger photographed?"

She said, "Yes, with names, addresses, and phone numbers or emails."

"It's 6:00 p.m.," Harley said. "Who's likely to be at home?"

Ross pointed to her list, and said, "I marked a D on day timers and N for night timers."

Harley shot her a look of surprise, and said, "Good work. Did we get a photo of Doppelgänger or just ten thousand of Jennifer?"

Smiling proudly, Ross said, "I got his picture from his webpage. His digital work is amazing. Check it out sometime."

A look of warning from Harley sobered Ross, as he said, "Keep it professional until this is over. Understand? You're always a cop first."

"Yes Sir," she said.

***
Chapter 17

Harley settled at his desk and Ross sat next to him with her file on the witnesses.

She said, "The first is Sonja Smith. He listed her by first and last name and phone number. She's 47, and has some minor offenses from younger days. Liquor as a minor, a DUI, one pot bust in '76. Her son has a record: drugs, DUIs, minor theft, vagrancy, with a little time in county jail. Son lives at home. Sonja has a current hairdresser's license, so she may work in a local shop. I don't know if there's other income. She's in quite a few of his files; you'd like the nudes of her."

"Nudes?" Harley said. "Porn? The two of them together?"

Ross flashed a grin, and said, "Thought it would get your attention, but no porn and she's alone in all of them. Remember the carved mermaid on Doppelgänger's door?" Harley nodded. "Doppelgänger carves those doors as well as wall art. Apparently, Sonja is his primary model. She's on his computer as far back as digital photography began, and before. There are hundreds of files from scanned photos. It appears they've been acquainted for years. She's attractive now, but when she was younger, she was more beautiful than Jennifer is. The mermaid is an exact replica of Sonja."

Rubbing his chin, Harley said, "I'll pay closer attention to the door when we return. Anything else on Sonja?"

Grinning at the implication, Ross said, "No, only her car information. It's an average car, paid for," Ross said.

Flipping the page, Ross said, "Next is Mary and Joshua Olsen. A bit of money there. They own, outright, a condo in the new high rise in Palamai. Monthly fees are $500.00 above payments if there's a mortgage, plus utilities, plus another $500.00 each if they use the dining room facilities. He's seventy; she's sixty-five. He's a retired doctor, but has a current license. If Mary worked, there's no recent history. Credit cards have ample use, but it appears they pay them each month. They own two cars, both high-end European models. They travel often to Europe, New York, and Florida. Neither has a record."

"Nice, but boring," Harley said. "Who's next?"

Grinning, she said, "Mr. Jansen is more interesting, Harley. David's on the light side of being an average Joe. Appears to be gay. Only record is a Lewd Conduct outside a gay bar in San Diego a few years ago. Average credit card use, with an average balance of $1000.00. He rents an apartment for $800.00 a month and has a car payment of $295.00. He lists his occupation as an entertainer at Johnnie's Hot Haus. Guess what it is."

Harley groaned, "Fine. Next?"

Continuing, Ross said, "Bert and Marge Owens are an older couple, married over fifty years. He's eighty-one; she's eighty. They've lived at their current address forty years. They own the house and one old car. No credit card I could find. Apparently, they survive on Social Security. No records."

Shrugging, Harley asked, "Got more?"

"One more," Ross said. "Lucy Mills and Dora Turner are roommates. They're both nineteen. They work at menial jobs, own one old car each, no records, but both are a little spendy with credit cards. Lucy owes $2000.00 and Dora owes $1500.00. That's it Harley, like it or lump it."

Harley rubbed his hands over his face, and said, "I'll take Sonja, you take the rest."

"Fat chance; I'll tell your wife. Do we begin tonight or tomorrow?" Ross asked.

"Tomorrow, it doesn't appear Doppelgänger left with Jennifer and these people seem like normal folk. Be here by 7:00 a.m. to see what Marcus has. We can probably find the older couples at home, but the others are potluck if they work regular jobs. We can take Jennifer's photo around the area to fast food places. If she left alone, she had to eat somewhere. It might be a long day, get some sleep, and eat a good breakfast."

Harley went home to his wife, but Ross headed south to Sultan's Beach, which was the next town north of Derby Point.

***
Chapter 18

Monday, 7:00 p.m.-

Doppelgänger's webpage showed his studio in a row of crafty shops in old Sultan's Beach. Artists worked in the back and had small display areas in the front. Most were jewelry, clothing, accessories, or gifts. A large antique mall and an eclectic furniture store sat across the street. Each structure had fresh colorful paint, and there were ample lights in the parking lot at the end of the buildings.

Ross arrived after the stores closed, so she wandered from window to window until she came to Doppelgänger's studio. The front lobby displayed foot tall carvings of mermaids, dolphins, and octopi in various poses. He used a variety of beautiful woods, both dark and light. Set against the back wall were wood framed doors, similar to the one on his house, with a large mermaid or dolphins carved in wood over clear or opaque glass. "He's good," she said to herself.

Since she couldn't go inside, she walked to a nearby bar called Gut Buster Grill. Adjusting her eyes to the dark, she walked to the bar and climbed onto a stool. To the bartender she said, "Beer, a light tap is fine."

The noise was deafening between the jukebox and the laughter of the local yuppies, who were dressed in office attire, or casual evening clothes. There were few lone couples; most patrons sat in groups of three or more. Lights were low, but the décor was modern with oak trimmed booths to match the long bar. The barstool legs, the chandeliers, and the beer dispensers were all brass. The seats were red leather. The bartenders wore long sleeve, white dress shirts with red bow ties. The servers were ditto, except the women omitted the tie in favor of buttons open to mid chest, and they wore black short shorts over black stockings with high heels, while the token male wore black slacks and comfortable shoes. The current powers of Sultan's Beach had done a fine job revitalizing their run-down business district.

Barely audible above the din, a voice said, "Put it on my tab, Bill." Ross turned to find Doppelgänger standing next to her, his back leaning on the bar. His tank top and jeans made him one of the few sporting daytime beach clothes. "If you're tailing me, you're doing a piss poor job of it," he said.

She laughed and said, "No, I'm not tailing you, but I did peek through the windows of your studio. I brought up your webpage and couldn't resist seeing the real thing. You're quite an artist. Is there a call for many carved doors?"

"Enough to keep me very busy," he said. "I send them all over the world. Parts of this planet are far richer than America, and they love to spend money on beautiful, frivolous objects. I have four orders to fill ASAP. I should be working now, but you and Harley disturbed my concentration today. Find Jennifer?"

Turning to face him, Ross said, "No, but we have a list of interviews for tomorrow. Is there a chance she would call you?"

Shaking his head, he said, "I didn't know her until Sunday morning. A friend showed her pictures to me, and on the phone, we agreed to meet. Oh, crap. Why didn't I think to call Bruce to see if he heard from her? Surely, she would either thank him or complain if she had a problem. Want me to call him?" he asked.

"Yes," she said, "and ask if we can talk to him tomorrow if she's not home by then."

Dop called his friend, ended the call, and said, "As you heard, he hasn't heard from Jennifer. He thought it was strange. His name is Bruce Hancock; here's his phone number and address at work. He'll be there all day tomorrow."

"How close a friend is he?" Ross asked.

"I've known him since college. He's her mother's boyfriend." Ross frowned. "What?" Dop said.

She straightened and adjusted her back while Dop waited for an answer. She said, "Your tendrils are wound all through this case, like the octopus in your window." His gaze turned cold, he raised his chin, and moved to walk away. "Wait Mr. Doppelgänger, it's my job to be suspicious. There's nothing concrete leading us to suspect you're responsible for Jennifer's disappearance and you've cooperated, but you're deeply ingrained in this case."

Staring at her, he said, "Maybe we should end the social hour. I have too much at stake if I say something foolish while under the influence of booze and..."

"And what, Mr. Doppelgänger?" she asked.

Observing her, he said, "And...every brain cell I possess tells me I should run like hell, while I can. You're one big mousetrap waiting to snap shut, and I should keep out of the way. You're welcome for the beer."

Dop turned to walk away, but Ross put her hand on his arm, and said, "Wait. I'm off duty. Why don't you show me your studio, since we're so close to it?"

Contemplating the risk, he fingered the mermaid on his arm, and said, "Without my attorney?"

She laughed. "Yes, it's off the record. Completely on a social basis. Maybe I could buy something."

He shook his head, and said, "No you won't. No honest cop can afford anything I sell, but against my better judgment, let's go."

Dop peeled a hundred off a roll of bills and said to the bartender, "Cover my tab and take out the usual."

He led the way from the bar to his studio, where he held open the door while she ducked under his arm. Once inside, he turned off the alarm and switched on a bank of lights. Ross blinked at the brightness. Dop laughed, and said, "Good light's important. One bad slip and I lose thousands of dollars and weeks of time."

An array of furniture lined the back wall of the lobby, consisting of a TV cabinet, bookcases, and a credenza. Ross said, "Nice. It's similar to your house."

"Yes, it's my profession. The carving was a hobby until I built a reputation," he said.

"I like your small dolphins, but the fat ones have seams and a hinge," she said. "What's inside?"

"Open it," he said.

Ross tilted the head forward, revealing a hollow center filled with colorful condom packages. Blinking in surprise, she said, "Oh! I guess that's better than having them dumped on the nightstand."

Laughing at her embarrassment, Dop said, "It's my best seller. Better to have a full belly filled with condoms than with babies. In today's world, one should be prepared for safe sex. Avoiding disease is as important as preventing pregnancy. The pill only does half the job. Select a chunk of wood from my shop and I'll make one for you."

"How much?" she asked.

"$250.00," he said.

"Oh," she said. "I'll stick with my flowered sugar bowl."

Chuckling, he said, "Sugar bowl? That fits."

Deciding it was time to change the subject; Ross turned toward the carved doors, and asked, "How long to make one of these?"

"Depending on the size and detail, one to six months of solid work," he said.

She examined the mermaid, but ran her fingers over one of three dolphins, which were swimming across a door. "The wood feels like silk. I always imagine getting splinters from wood," she said.

"There's wood and there's wood," he said, as he caressed the dolphin. Once his hand was next to hers, Ross noticed it was twice the size. The idea of what he could do with a hand span so large, put her on alert. She must remember he could be a murderer.

Catching her hostile vibes, abruptly he dropped his hand, and said, "Follow me to the back to where I work."

The back room was about the size of a double garage. Several large chunks of wood lined one wall and a rack of carving tools hung on another. In the center, an enormous dolphin jumped from a breaking wave. Ross gasped, and said, "It's beautiful. May I touch it?"

"Yes, if your hands aren't covered with lotion. Most hand lotions don't mix well with the finishing oil I'll apply later," he said.

Ross gently caressed the sculpture and said, "I'm safe. I don't do soft womanly things."

"Wouldn't bet on it," Dop said. Ross spun to face him, and he quickly stepped back. "I'll show you my tools." In response to her arched eyebrow, he clarified, "My carving tools."

They both sensed a quickening in their breathing and their gazes held too long, so Dop turned to the tool wall. Ross backed away from the dolphin, jamming her hands in her back pockets, palms against her butt.

Turning, he noticed the placement of her hands. The position pulled back her shoulders, therefore lifting her chest. After a few seconds, his eyes snapped to her eyes. He brought several carving tools, explained their purpose, and showed her how he sharpened them to a razors edge. In previous cases, Ross had seen what a sharp knife could do to a body. Why was she alone with this man?

He brought a scrap of wood and let her try each type of chisel. As his large hand guided hers, she marveled how easily each tool peeled a shaving of wood, like a knife through soft butter.

Dop moved to the dolphin and gently ran a hand over the wood before touching a chisel to its surface for the first stroke. Ross sat on a nearby stool and watched, barely breathing, so she wouldn't startle him. At times, his fingers barely moved; the muscles taut from the control they required. Other times he took long, smooth strokes, the strength of his back showing, and his arms flexing with each thrust. She didn't breathe for reasons other than fear, as she imagined his hands on a woman.

An hour later he paused, jerked his head toward her, and said, "Sorry, I get engrossed in my work and block out the world. I'm usually alone so I'm not distracted. This piece should be finished next week, if Diego Norte's finest leave me alone."

Quietly Ross said, "I enjoyed watching you work. It's obvious you love it. Thank you."

Their eyes locked and in a few casual steps, Dop stood in front of Ross. He glided the back of his index finger over her cheek and said softly, "You have fine lines. You'd make a great model for one of my mermaids."

Captured by his gaze, Ross froze briefly, spun on the stool, and bolted for the door to the showroom. "It's late, I need to get home," she said. "Thanks for the beer and the lesson." She hustled through the front door, hopped into her car, and sped home, her chest rising and falling to the rapid beat of her heart. Harley would kill her for this.

***
Chapter 19

Doppelgänger stood alone in the center of his studio, puzzled by the abrupt exit made by Detective Ross. He blinked at the click of the outer door as it closed. He was aware of the difference in his breathing as he stared after her.

"Damn," he said. "All I need is a cop in my life. It's bad enough having an attorney and a judge as in-laws." He shuddered at the idea of adding another member of the legal society to family events. Dop would be the only family member not squeaky clean, both figuratively and in actuality.

Ready to return his tools to the wall, he studied the dolphin. Gliding his finger over the spot where Ross touched the wood, he imagined her warmth lingering on its surface. A thrill swept through him as he recalled the feel of the smoothness of her cheek. His mind stripped the purple jacket, pants, and the silky white blouse, while he imagined her beckoning him to her scantily clothed body. He caressed the dolphin's smoothness. Her smoothness. What was her first name? Caren, yes it was Caren Ross. Nice name.

With the chisel still in his hand, he skimmed the dolphin's belly, correcting a slight blemish. Doppelgänger demanded perfection. Perfection in his carvings and his models. The slightest deficiency drove him crazy until he rectified the flaw. Sonja was the only perfect model he'd ever used. Jennifer had flaws.

Returning to the table, which held his sharp tools, with his eyes closed, he pushed his palms against the table's edge. He remained in a tense pose, trying to clear Ross from his mind. Finally, he flexed his hands before taking the tools to their place on the wall. Caren Ross was a cop. Was it a flaw? Or, something else?

*

After Caren closed her front door at 10:15 p.m., she leaned against it and tried to regain the feel of Doppelgänger's finger on her cheek. At that moment, his eyes locked to hers, as he pulled her into his unspoken desires.

"Stop it," she said aloud. "He may be a murder suspect."

In her bedroom, she caught a glimpse of her naked body in the mirror as she dressed for bed. She faced the mirror and ran her fingers from her shoulders, over her breasts, skimmed her stomach, and downward to her thighs. "I am a beautiful woman under the cop garb," Caren said to her image, "but I'm a cop. What's the chance of some guy getting past my profession? They never call again when I tell them what I do."

Doppelgänger knew and seemed interested, but as a woman or a model? The photos of Sonja, on his computer, were intimidating. Caren felt defective next to her. Even if Doppelgänger wasn't the murderer, and they dated, would she ever meet his standards after his relationship with Sonja? What relationship? How do I know it's more than modeling...yea sure. How could he keep from touching and making love to that woman?

*

Caren was born and raised in San Diego near the Italian Village by the airport. Her mother was Italian; her father was English/Greek, thus the name Ross. The Mediterranean ancestry gave her dark hair and eyes, plus a flawless olive complexion. She loved it now, but as a youth, it set her apart in a sea of Western European descendants. Their classmates bullied Caren and her brother into toughness, no matter how hard they tried to find kindness in their peers. Her brother tried to defend her, but nearly killed two young men. He served five years for assault, even though it was self-defense.

She began college with the idea of becoming a defense attorney, but soon realized criminals would hire her to prevent them from going to jail. She changed her major to Law Enforcement and graduated at the top of her class. She had been in the Sheriff's Department thirteen years. A year ago, she was promoted to Detective and became Harley's partner. He was tough, but she couldn't be partners with a better teacher.

Reverting to cop attitude, Ross wondered if they should look at the possibility of another model vanishing. She slept with mixed dreams of love and terror. One minute, a large male hand caressed her warm, smooth skin; the next, it held a bloody knife over a supine female body.

*

In Derby Point, Doppelgänger had conflicting dreams, also. In some, he was touching and caressing a naked Caren. In others, he was fleeing from a bloody crime scene with Ross hot in pursuit.

***
Chapter 20

Monday, midnight

Monday at midnight, he woke from a nap and dressed in his dark pants and hoodie sweatshirt. He'd been a wreck all day talking to the cops, and trying to find information on the computer about dead bodies. The detectives were curious about him, but he kept his cool the whole time.

Now, if he could only dump the body before they found the car. Although, did it matter if they found it in the trunk of the car or on the beach? Yes, it mattered. Everyone had a plan, and this was his plan. He had to stick with it. This was no longer Jennifer; it was just a body.

Step One: survey the cliffs. It must be quiet. If he arrived to find a huge party going on with a hundred people coming and going, it wouldn't work. He drove back and forth on Cliffside Drive several times, and found it quiet and peaceful at 1:00 a.m.

Step Two: survey Jennifer's car. Same scenario. If a party was happening nearby, someone might see him. He parked near the car and waited. He was sure it was safe, so he moved the car forward to the next available spot and moved his vehicle into its space to hold it. It might not be as suspicious if it had been there the previous day. On the other hand, it might be, if a strange car was not moved. No, this was his plan. Do it.

Step Three: drive the car to the cliff. Again, he surveyed the area before he stopped. This place was perfect. He parked next to a wooden fence with the trunk backed over the sidewalk. He quickly exited the car to douse the interior light and waited in the shadows. No movement anywhere. When he opened the trunk, he broke the light with his gloved hand. According to the computer, the body should be out of rigor now. He touched it, still cold, but it was pliable. He lifted an arm, but dropped it as if it burned him. Get yourself together, he thought. Follow the plan.

Step Four: toss the body over the cliff. He grasped an arm and pulled it upward the way a fireman might lift a body over his shoulder. This was hard. He didn't think the body would be so heavy. Alive, it only weighed 110 pounds. It was almost skinny. Step Four should only take five minutes. It was already longer, and he hadn't lifted the body. Come on, big breath and heave. He finally had the body over his shoulder and staggered toward the cliff's edge. Nearly there, and his foot slipped on the ice plant. He dropped the body on the ground. No problem, she was dead and wouldn't feel it. He could roll it to the edge. Maybe better, because he would be low to the ground and be less visible. Six more inches. He rolled the body over the edge of the cliff and watched it disappear. It was about one hundred feet to the beach here, but he wasn't prepared for the faint thud as the body hit the rocks below. The tension and the shock from the sound made him sick. Still on his hands and knees in the ice plant, he lost what little food he had in his stomach.

Step Five: toss the red dress. Forcing himself to his feet, he took the dress from the trunk and wrapped it around a shoe. He threw it as far as he could over the cliff. The shoe fell away, but the silky, red fabric fluttered in the sea breeze. It seemed to waive to him as it drifted toward the sand and water. He was sad because he would never see Jennifer in her beautiful red dress again. Never see her slim, sexy body and her perky young breasts as she modeled for him.

Step Six: return the car. Without headlights, he drove away from the cliff. He reparked the car and scattered a few leaves on it. If they found it soon, he wanted it to appear it had been there a few days. He opened the trunk and tossed the keys inside the purse. Finding the keys in the trunk would raise a big question mark. Confuse them.

Step Seven: return home, resume your daily routine, and act normal. Stay cool when the cops asked more questions. They would find the car and the body. It was a matter of time before they returned, because he was connected to Jennifer.

***
Chapter 21

Tuesday, 6:00 a.m.-

Ross gave up on sleeping, so she arrived early at the station. She settled at her computer and began a search for missing young women in Southern California. Her search was for ages eighteen to thirty, tall, slender, and full or part-time models. She found twelve unsolved cases, but only two were listed as models. Cathy Roman lived near Los Angeles, but Marianne Walton lived in San Diego. Marianne's picture resembled Jennifer.

*

When Harley arrived at the station, Ross pounced on him with her information. He double checked her material and verified the case was open. Marianne's mother reported her missing fourteen months ago.

Harley said, "I need to follow up on another case, so why don't you ask Doppelgänger about these women?"

Hesitating, Ross said, "Maybe we should go together."

"Why?" asked Harley. "You're a big girl. You've done a lot of interviews alone."

"I'd be asking him about another missing girl. If the cases are connected and he causes trouble, I might need backup sooner than I could get it," she said.

Studying her, Harley asked, "What's the real reason Ross? I've never seen you back away from a challenge. You're usually pushing me to turn you lose."

"He's big, probably very strong, and I have a bad feeling," she said.

"You were convinced he was innocent. What happened?" Harley asked.

"I went to his studio last night," she said.

Examining her, Harley asked, "Personal or business?"

"Curiosity," Ross said. "I saw his webpage and I wanted to see it. There were a few carvings in the lobby, but it was closed. I went to the nearby bar for some food and he was there. We talked and he offered to show me where he worked, so I went."

"Alone at night?" Harley asked.

Laughing, she said, "Of course alone at night. Are you going to chaperone me on all my dates?"

"Okay," he said, "so what happened?"

"We talked about his work, he showed me his carving tools, and he worked on his current project while I watched," she said.

Shrugging, Harley said, "What's so scary about that?"

Looking away, her heart began racing as she remembered his touch. Her breathing quickened.

Harley noticed, and said, "Caren, what did he do to you?"

Shocked by Harley using her first name, she looked him in the eye and said, "He said I could be one of his models and he touched my cheek."

Concerned by her reaction, he said, "Did he hurt you or threaten you?"

"No," she said, "but I felt like he possessed me with a power out of my control. I felt threatened...as a woman, not as a cop. The look in his eyes was cold, piercing, and bloodthirsty, like in a vampire movie, right before he bites the girl. I was terrified and I ran out before I was trapped."

Leaning toward her, Harley said, "Sure you're not falling for him, and it scares you?"

"No," Ross said. "I'm a cop and I know better than to get close to a witness or suspect. You preach to me all the time about controlling my emotions. In this line of work, one of my faults is being too trustful and too compassionate. On the other hand, sometimes I think you're too cold."

Ross was young, but she was a tough cop. Harley said, "We'll interview Doppelgänger together. I'll watch him closely and we'll talk about this afterwards. Your first priority is life, yours first, then the victim. You're no good to him if you're dead. Go get yourself together before we talk to our witnesses."

Straightening, Ross said, "Do you think I'm weak because of this?"

"No I don't. Never ignore your instincts, but make sure you're not allowing outside experiences to lead you astray," he said.

"Thanks, Harley," she said. "You're a good teacher. I'm lucky to be your partner."

Backing away, he said, "Thanks. Now go correct your attitude and come back a pro." He smiled as she rose; she saluted him, and walked toward the women's room.

*

At age forty-five, Harley had been a detective fifteen years, one of the youngest promoted to his position. As a patrol officer, he had an instinct for who was trouble and who was an innocent sucked into a bad situation. On three occasions, he disobeyed orders to "butt out" when senior staff was ready to charge the wrong person. He hung on like a bulldog to gather evidence to prove the truth.

He grew up in Denver, where his grandfather was the District Attorney. He lived under the belief that the gravest error a prosecutor could make was to convict the wrong person, especially if it resulted in the death penalty. As a high school and college student, he and his grandfather spent hours discussing cases. In college, Harley did his homework in the back row of the courtroom.

D. A. Harley lost his re-election because he refused to prosecute a man the press and public thought was guilty. A week after the election, they arrested the true murderer. Harley never forgot his grandfather's fortitude as he sought the truth.

Doppelgänger's background file and lifestyle bewildered Harley. They found no direct evidence linking him to Jennifer's disappearance, and no evidence of anyone else. Still his grandfather's attitude pushed Harley to dredge the tiniest morsel of information until the flash of certainty appeared. Something didn't compute, but Harley wasn't sure on which side it fell.

*

Harley and Ross arrived at Doppelgänger's house at 8:30 a.m.

Irritated by their unannounced presence, Dop escorted them inside, and said, "You're interrupting my work. What do you want now?"

Harley looked for Ross and found her standing slightly behind him and to the side. Ignoring her position, he addressed Doppelgänger, saying, "You're a bit of an early bird aren't you?"

Slowly pulling his pocket watch from his front pocket to inspect it, Dop said, "I could say the same for you. Why are you here? I'm sure it's not to check my alarm clock."

"Do you know Cathy Roman or Marianne Walton?" Harley asked.

"I know Marianne, but not Cathy. Why?" Dop said.

Noticing Doppelgänger didn't flinch at the question, Harley said, "They're both models and they're missing."

Glaring at Harley, Doppelgänger said, "I said I don't know Cathy, but Marianne is alive and well. I saw her two weeks ago. She's married and expecting a baby soon."

"Why would she be in our missing files?" Harley asked.

Doppelgänger snorted and said, "Because some stupid cop didn't update the records. When she ran away to marry Norman, her mother reported her missing, and yes, they questioned me then, because she was one of my models."

"And now?" Harley asked.

"I haven't used her since she got married," Dop said. "Customers don't want pregnant mermaids and her new hubby objects to nude modeling. Her name is Marianne Feldman. You're a detective; you find her. Anything else?"

Studying Doppelgänger, Harley said, "Not now."

Dop straightened, turned his gaze to Ross, and stared at her. She hadn't moved or spoken. Expressionless, he slowly let his eyes drop, inch by inch, from her eyes to her feet and back to her eyes. Still observing her, he said, "Don't scratch Sonja when you leave." He turned and strode through the door to the garage/studio, barely clearing the top of the door jam.

*

In the car, Harley said, "That man acts like you plastered his secrets on all the lampposts in town. I don't know if he hurt Jennifer, but he thinks you injured him."

Ross stared through her side window, and said, "He has no reason to think anything."

Harley glanced sideways, and said, "Put a lock on your heart until this case is closed, Caren."

Silence reigned until they returned to the station.

***
Chapter 22

Tuesday, 10:00 a.m.-

After leaving Doppelgänger, Harley and Ross began interviewing witnesses to Jennifer's morning at the pier. The first was Bruce Hancock, who set up the photo-shoot.

Bruce was a wedding photographer, so it was evident how he knew Doppelgänger. Dop probably did the small carving of a bride and groom, which sat on his credenza.

Harley and Ross sat opposite Bruce at his desk. "Mr. Hancock," Harley asked, "Do you know the people in these pictures?"

"Yes, they're Jennifer Anisteadt and Dominik Doppelgänger. Both are friends of mine. Jennifer is my girlfriend's daughter. I've known Dop since college. I'm probably responsible for his interest in photography.

"To save money, we both rode motorcycles at school. He'd ride with me on my assigned shoots. When I was done, he'd redirect us to architectural sites he wanted to photograph.

"Dop had a hard time distracting himself from his wayward brother. My parents divorced when I was sixteen, and I didn't recover until I was grown. Dop and I were a good team. We became our own family.

"We'd both gone through the draft, Nam, and its aftermath. I'm a year older, so I saw a little action, but missed the worst of it. Dop's brother paid for much of his college, but I relied solely on the GI Bill and on what I earned from photography. Post-war college weddings occurred regularly." Spreading his arms, Bruce said, "So here we are today."

Harley asked, "Are you still close to Doppelgänger?"

"Yea," Bruce said, "we go on bike shoots about once a month, but he has one downfall." Harley raided his eyebrows, but Bruce said, "He won't share Sonja. Have you met her?"

"No," Harley said, "but she was at the pier, so she's on our list of people to interview."

Grinning, Bruce said, "I won't spoil the surprise." Sobering, while studying Jennifer's photo, Bruce said, "He sure knows how to delve into someone's soul. Her mother is a basket case because she's still missing. Sam's not doing so well either."

Harley asked, "When did you last talk to Jennifer?"

"She came by a week ago," Bruce said. "She was excited about doing the photo-shoot with Dop. She's a beautiful girl and it's her dream to be a model. I use her and Sam for bride and groom models occasionally." He pointed to three pictures on the wall.

"So, she didn't call you after the shoot to comment on it?" Harley asked.

Frowning, Bruce said, "No, and thinking back, it was strange. She's usually so bubbly after a session. In the past, she ran into the studio, hugged me, and thanked me for helping her. Then again, it was Sunday, and I wasn't here. I had a wedding and reception Sunday afternoon and evening, so I didn't think about it until Dop called on Monday night."

"Mr. Hancock, have you referred anyone else to Doppelgänger?" Harley asked.

"Yes, several," Bruce said. "He uses them primarily for his mermaids, but also for models in his remodeled houses and the offices. He's a multi-talented guy."

"Any negative feedback from the girls about his conduct?" Harley asked.

Bruce sat up straight, and said, "Hold it. If you're implying Dop had anything to do with Jennifer's disappearance, you're wrong. In fact, the girls often say, they're amazed what he gets them to do without touching them."

"Gets them to do?" Harley asked.

Bruce rolled his eyes, and said, "Poses, expressions, feelings," pointing to Jennifer's photo, "this. The models wear an earpiece. He communicates what he wants and sets up props to lure emotions. By using an earpiece, he's free to move around without interfering with the setting and their concentration. Often photographers break the spell by hands-on, over direction. A model can't interpret what the photographer is envisioning; she can only interpret her own feelings. If I ask for a happy smile, your happy and mine are two different things. Dop gives them a prop and lets them express themselves. In the picture, Dop may have given a stuffed kitten to her. She adores them and it shows."

"Do you go on shoots with Doppelgänger?" Harley asked.

"Many," Bruce said. "He has never once been inappropriate. I don't know what happened to Jennifer, but Dop was not the cause. It's a big, dirty world out there. He had his problems in the past, not with girls, and he's about as straight as you can get now."

Harley made notes, and said, "Did Jennifer ever mentioned a problem with anyone else?"

"No, and if you still consider Dop as one of the 'else', forget it, Detective. Jen has friends, gets along with her Mom, but her Dad's on the East Coast. She has a nice boyfriend, loves her job, and is generally happy. Sometimes she goes to rough areas for shoots, and I warn her about being careful, but the pier, in the daytime, is not usually dangerous."

Nodding, Harley asked, "What about Sam? We've had reports of them fighting. Did you witness any problems?"

Frowning, Bruce said, "Unfortunately, they're both young and undisciplined. Jen is an only child and a bit spoiled. With her father so far away, her mother took sole responsibility. Working full time left Jen alone after school. She didn't get in trouble, but became very independent and self-sufficient.

"As with many young men, Sam is immature and insecure with himself. He's only had menial jobs, so he's become dependent on his relationship with Jen for his survival. He expects certain behavior from her, which she is unable or unwilling to give. It's not my place to forbid a marriage, but I encouraged them to wait."

Harley asked, "What seems to be their biggest problem?"

Smiling, Bruce said, "Sam is 'Mr. Clean' and Jen is a perpetual slob. She's not dirty, but she shuns housework in even the simplest form. If she leaves a dish or book, and turns away, Sam scoops it up to avoid clutter, which begins a row. She says she was still using the item and Sam claims it would sit in the same place throughout eternity if he didn't pick up after her. It escalates from there."

"Doppelgänger said Jennifer seemed to be arguing on the phone about football on Sunday," Harley said.

"Wouldn't surprise me," Bruce said. "She tells Sam he's glued to TV sports all weekend when they could be doing something together. From there they battle over money. I like Sam, but they certainly aren't ready for marriage."

"Who is?" Harley said. "Did you ever see him hit her?"

"No," Bruce said.

"Any evidence of physical abuse? Bruising? Limping? Long sleeves on a hot day?" Harley asked.

Thinking, Bruce said, "Nothing I can recall, but I'll give it some thought. Something's nagging, but I can't put a finger on it. If I'd seen anything concrete, I'd have thrown him out and moved her home with her mother, adult or not. Adulthood has nothing to do with age, though."

Nodding again, Harley said, "Do you know Cathy Roman or Marianne Walton," Harley asked.

"Only Marianne," Bruce said. "We both used her, but she's married now and pregnant, so she doesn't fit our needs. Why?"

"She was reported missing," Harley said.

Laughing, Bruce said, "Her mother panicked when she ran off to get married, but she called after the wedding. Who's the other woman?"

"She's a model from L.A., who's also missing," Harley said.

Shaking his finger at Harley, Bruce said, "If you try to pin this on Doppelgänger, you're wrong."

Handing his card to Bruce, Harley said, "Sometimes things happen, but thank you, Mr. Hancock. If you hear from Jennifer or think of anything to help, please call me immediately."

"Absolutely, Detectives. Please find Jennifer," Bruce said.

***
Chapter 23

Tuesday, 11:00 a.m.-

Sunday had been a marvelous day, beginning with a tremendous photo-shoot with Jennifer, but now she was missing. Monday afternoon Doppelgänger spent hours with the police going through his photos and answering their questions about his day. He feared the direction this investigation might take. His unconventional appearance automatically set off suspicions.

He could easily become the average Joe, clean shaven with a short, stylish haircut and three piece suits, but hell, it wasn't who he was or wanted to be. So suck it up and play their games, he told himself. He must convince them he had nothing to do with Jennifer's disappearance.

Tuesday morning he tried to work after Harley and Ross left, but the tiniest sound made him think the police were about to knock on his door to arrest him. Why couldn't they look past his appearance? Yea, he used to be a hell-rouser, but it was years ago when he was a kid, like millions of other kids who grew up. Only, he didn't grow into society's image of a mature, law-abiding adult.

The mermaid set he was building in the garage was nearly finished, but Harley and Ross interrupted his work with another unfounded accusation. He tried to resume his efforts, but his concentration and enthusiasm were shot. He put away his tools, locked the front door, and debated whether he should go to Pete's or Gut Busters. Pete and Willie were kindred souls; Gut was too upscale, full of yuppies who at times eyed him as if he would pull a gun on them.

Dop's bike roared into Pete's Palace and cruised to a halt at the back of the parking lot. At 11:30 a.m., there were a few cars, but a snazzy little convertible caught his eye. Hmm, he thought, it seems out of place here.

It only took a second for his eyes to adjust to the dim light after he removed his dark glasses. The first thing to catch his attention was a shock of red, frizzy hair atop a shapely body. He took a stool at the bar, two away from the hair. Casually he studied the bar, and said, "Bet the hair belongs to the hot little car outside."

The hair turned to Dop, and said, "Yea, what of it?"

After signaling for a beer, he said, "Just admiring."

"The hair or the car?" she said.

"All three," Dop said.

"Three? I only counted two," she said.

"Dop peeked at her from the corner of his eye, and said, "The hair, the car, and the body. That's three."

Facing Dop full on, she said, "I can only admire two, since I don't know what you drive. Always wanted long, straight hair. Maybe tattoos would cover some of these freckles, you think?"

"Naw," he said, "think I'd let the freckles be. They call me Dop. Do the freckles come with a name?"

Lifting a frizzy curl, she said, "Yea, Ginger, what else? I was supposed to be Sally Ann until Momma saw this hair. What kind of name is Dop?"

"It's German, short for Dominik Doppelgänger. That's why they call me Dop."

"I like Doppelgänger, it's unique. There'd be no doubt who I was addressing," she said. "That your bike I heard coming in?"

He chuckled, and said, "Yea, the She Devil's a preamble to my arrival. Some like it; some don't. You like bikes, Ginger?"

"Yea," she said, "but they're not always practical when you live in Oklahoma. It's too hot in the summer and too snowy or icy in the winter. People there look at a girl on a bike like she's about to kidnap and murder all the kids in town."

"And a redhead in a hot little convertible isn't?" he said.

Her laugh tinkled the wine glasses hanging from the bar rack. "Yea, I was born weird for Oklahoma. Precocious, they called me. I had a mind of my own and I never fit in. Momma dressed me in frilly dresses and shiny black shoes when the other kids wore jeans and t-shirts to school. I was her prima donna. I've been in Vegas a few years, but needed to stretch my legs."

Examining Ginger, head to foot, Dop said, "I see you graduated to jeans and t-shirts. They make the package."

Returning the inspection, Ginger said, "Thanks, but I guess you're normal for California, in your own sort of way. What do you do dressed so casually on a Tuesday morning when other men are in a suit and tie?"

Dop grinned and nodded his head at the normal assumption of how workday men should look. "I'm a photographer, carver, and I remodel houses and offices."

"A carver? Like in wood?" she asked.

"Yea, I did the mermaid on Pete's back bar," he said.

Ginger looked at the mermaid, at Dop, and back to the carving, and said, "Awesome. Can I go behind the bar and look closer?"

Laughing Dop said, "Sure, but stay away from Pete's liquor."

She felt the wood with an appreciative touch and said, "I want one."

Dop laughed, and said, "I have a lifetime tab here in exchange for the mermaid, and it brings me a lot of work, too. It took three months to carve it. I display small mermaids and dolphins at my studio. They're more affordable because they're not so detailed."

Eyeing Dop, Ginger walked around the bar and brushed her tight shirt against his arm. "Do you need a model for your mermaids? I think I qualify."

Trying to suppress a smile, his mouth twitched, as he ran a finger down her arm, barely grazing her overstuffed shirt. "You'd qualify, except I use a regular lady." Pointing to the mermaid behind the bar, Dop said, "That's Sonja. We've been friends since we were kids. She's kinda possessive of the job."

Frowning at the carving, Ginger asked, "Is she a permanent fixture in your house?"

"No," he said.

"Well then, could you at least interview me?" she said.

"It's topless, sometimes totally nude," he said.

Stroking his leg, she said, "For the whole thing?"

Dop wasn't slow getting the message; she had more come-ons than he could handle. The looks and attitude of this one intrigued him, so he said cautiously, "I came in for lunch and a beer. Join me and I'll think about it."

While waiting for their burgers, Dop asked, "Why are you in California?"

"Looking for a job. I came in here because I thought Pete might need a dancer, but I was mistaken about the zoning ordinances here, and the look of the building." Eyeing Dop again, she said, "We, you and I, should know about judging a book by its cover."

"I'm not advertising anything." Touching her shirt, he added, "You are."

"So, are you buying? I mean partaking, I don't sell," she said.

"I don't know yet," he said, "maybe I should go to Oklahoma and check out the products."

With her chin in the air, she said, "Too late, I'm gone."

Dop nearly fell off the stool laughing at her self-appreciation. "All right, if you're all Oklahoma has to offer, we'll see what you've got." She started to jump off the stool, but Dop grabbed her arm, and said, "After we eat. I think I'll need fuel for this afternoon."

She took a bite of her burger, and said, "Maybe you'll need two of these, Doppelgänger."

Contemplating the possibilities, he signaled for another.

***
Chapter 24

Tuesday, 12:00 p.m.-

In the car, after interviewing Bruce Hancock, Harley said, "Let's see those pictures; Bert and Marge Owen are first. Put it in the GPS."

Twenty minutes later, they arrived in front of an old weathered house. It sat on a hill overlooking the freeway. The lawn needed mowing, the weeds in the flowerbeds were three feet tall, and paint peeled from the house like icicles in a Minnesota winter.

Harley sighed, "Great, they look about ninety. I hope they aren't as feeble as this house. Let's go."

The screen door hung from rusty hinges, so Harley pressed the doorbell. He was surprised when he heard it ring, but he hoped they could hear it. Soon an eyeball peered through a hole in a dirty curtain. "Who are you?" asked a shaky voice.

Harley wasn't sure if it was Bert or Marge. Ross and Harley held their badges to the window and Ross said, "Hello, we're Detectives Ross and Harley from Diego Norte Sheriff's Department. May we ask you some questions about the man who took this photo?"

The curtain rustled and soon the door creaked open. An old blue eye examined the pair on the porch. "If you're police, why aren't you wearing uniforms?"

Ross stepped closer and said, "We're sorry to startle you, but we're detectives and we don't wear uniforms. The detectives on TV don't wear uniforms either, do they?"

Muffled voices discussed the situation, but finally the door opened and Bert invited them into the house. He led the detectives through pillars of old magazines and newspapers. The smell of mold nearly gagged Ross.

Bert wore an un-ironed white shirt with the collar open, showing a dingy t-shirt. His baggy pants hung atop scuffed loafers. Marge wore a faded, flowered dress, baggy nylons, and low-heeled shoes. Her apron was threadbare cotton with faintly colored flowers.

Bert swatted an old yellow cat so it jumped from the couch, and said, "Take a seat, please. Marge will make tea. We don't entertain guests often. Even the boys forget about us with their busy lives"

Harley took a deep breath, smiled, and said, "Thank you, Mr. Owens. It would be lovely." Harley and Ross took their places facing Mr. Owens as Marge shuffled toward the kitchen.

A few moments later, Mrs. Owens entered the room with a tray full of rattling cups and a teapot. Harley held his breath as she placed it on the coffee table, but the cups remained on the tray. Slowly, she poured barely brown tea in the cups and served each person. When finished, she settled herself, barely avoiding a lap of lukewarm water. She clutched her cup and smiled at Harley and Ross.

Satisfied they survived pending disasters, Harley said, "Thank you for the tea, Mrs. Owens. It was very kind. May we ask some questions about your morning at the beach on Sunday?"

Marge gave Bert a questioning look. "Were we at the beach, Bert? I do love the beach and the fresh air. May we go again?"

Bert patted Marge's hand while Ross and Harley exchanged glances of dismay. "Detective Harley, my Margie has a short memory sometimes, but she's a lovely lady. We've been married fifty-eight years, all good ones. Now, what do you need to ask?"

Harley extended the photo of Marge and Bert, taken by Doppelgänger at the beach. "Mr. Owens, do you remember a man taking this picture of you Sunday?"

"Oh yes, but please call me Bert. A very nice man took our picture. Look Margie, aren't we handsome? He said he would send a print. Thank you for bringing it to us Mr. Harley."

"You're welcome. Can you tell me about the man, Bert?" Harley said.

"Oh yes. He was as tall as a tree. He had a mustache, tattoos on both arms, and a long braid. He had a very big camera. We watched him take pictures of other people, so when he asked us, we said yes. He was very nice and he made Margie laugh. She doesn't laugh enough anymore. Tell him thank you when you see him."

"I will, Bert. Is this a picture of the photographer?" Harley asked.

Bert studied the picture, and said, "Yes, it's him. He said his name is Mr. Doppelgänger. It's a strange name."

"Thank you, Bert. Did you notice anyone hanging around who seemed strange?" Harley asked.

Bert laughed a soft throaty laugh, and said, "Many people seem strange to us. The clothes young people wear are so different. When we go out, I wear a suit and Margie always wears a pretty dress, stockings, and a nice hat like the one in the picture. Boys wear pants hanging below their underpants and girls show their stomachs. It's awful. No one bothers two old people except the man's brother. He kept watching us. We didn't like him, did we Margie?"

Shaking her head, Margie said, "No Bert, we didn't like him. He was dirty."

Cocking his head, Harley asked, "The photographer had a brother?"

"Yes," Bert said. "They might be twins, except the brother had shorter hair and it was in a ponytail. The photographer had more hair on top and he was bigger."

"Mr. Owen, Bert, did they talk to each other?" Harley asked.

"No. The brother was only there a few minutes, and then he ran away," Bert said.

Harley looked at Marge, and asked, "Did the photographer's brother talk to you, Marge?"

"My name is Mrs. Bertrand Owens. Please respect your elders, young man," she said.

Bowing his head, Harley said, "Yes, Mrs. Bertrand Owens, I apologize. Do you remember the man?"

Turning to Bert, she said, "What man, Bert?"

Bert took her hand, and said, "Do you remember the photographer's brother? He kept watching us, Margie."

Margie smiled sweetly, and said, "I don't like men watching me, but if you say so, Bert."

Harley rose and said, "Thank you, Bert and Mrs. Bertrand Owens. Thank you for the tea, Mrs. Owens."

"You're welcome," said Marge. "I'll tell the maid you liked her tea. Next time call ahead so she can make cookies."

"I will," Harley said. "It's been nice to meet both of you."

*

Harley tried to straighten the screen door as they left, but it sagged as soon as he released it. In the car, Harley asked Ross, "So are they credible witnesses?"

They laughed together, and Ross said, "I don't think we could win a case in kindergarten with Marge as a witness. Bert might make it with a sixth grade jury. What did you think about the brother? Doppelgänger didn't mention a brother, but I didn't ask about family."

"We'll see if anyone else saw him," Harley said. "When we follow up with Doppelgänger, we can ask about a brother. Who's next?"

"Let's try Sonja Smith," said Ross.

***
Chapter 25

Tuesday 1:00 p.m.-

The GPS brought them to another small house, which needed repair, however, the lawn was mowed, and flowers bloomed beneath the windows. The screen door appeared to be sturdy on its hinges, so Harley said, "Maybe this interview will go better...I hope."

The house door was open beyond the screen door. In reply to the doorbell, a tall, blond woman, about forty-five, inspected them. She waited for Harley to speak.

"Sonja Smith?" Harley asked.

"Yea...so?" she said.

Harley and Ross displayed their badges and introduced themselves.

Sonja rolled her eyes and said, "What did he do now?"

"Who's that Mrs. Smith?" Harley asked.

"My good for nothing son, who else?" she said.

Harley said, "I'm sorry Mrs. Smith, but this is not about your son. I have some questions about the man who took your picture at the beach Sunday. May we come in?"

"If it's about Dop, come in." She opened the door and led them into the house. A cloud of smoke trailed behind the shapely woman in stiletto high heels. Three long blond braids, which began as large cornrows, fell down her back to her waist. She wore black spandex pants, a low cut tank top, and when she suddenly turned to face them; her very ample cleavage caused Harley to step back.

Harley and Ross took seats on the couch again, across from Sonja this time. Ross let him hang in the wind while he tried to compose himself.

Finally, he asked, "Do you know Mr. Doppelgänger?"

"Sure I do," she said. "I've known him since we attended Mussel Beach Elementary. He dated my older sister, but I was in love with him. Whatever you think he did, you're wrong. Dop is the kindest, nicest person on earth."

Harley asked if his photo was Doppelgänger, and she said, "It's a great photo of him, but he should smile. He could charm the skin off a snake with his smile."

The second picture was of Sonja, "Is this one of the pictures he took of you Sunday?"

Sonja snatched the image from Harley and said, "He is so great. He makes a pig into a silk purse, or something like that. I look like a movie star. I still love that man."

"Do you have a relationship with him?" Harley asked.

"I wish," she said. "He plays the field pretty well, but I manage an encounter occasionally...not often enough with him. He understands how to get the best from a woman in a photograph and in bed. His ex turned him off permanent relationships. What do you think he did?"

The third picture was Jennifer, and Harley asked, "Did you see this young lady near the pier Sunday?"

Sonja ran a finger over the photo. "She's beautiful. Yea, I caught the last of Dop's photo-shoot with her. He made her look like a princess. Her red hair billowed around her in the wind like a cotton candy cloud. The red dress fit like a glove. I was never as thin, except maybe in sixth grade. I watched from across the street until they finished. He saw me and came to take my picture. Several people lined up for a turn to be a street model. He's like the Pied Piper with a camera. Something happen to her?"

"Why do you ask?" he said.

Sonja's laugh filled the room like a church bell. "Honey, you're a cop, you're showing me a picture of a beautiful, young woman. If she was home, safe in her bed, you wouldn't be here."

"She's missing, Sonja," Harley said. "She hasn't been seen since she left the pier. When did you last see her?"

After taking a long drag on her cigarette, she said, "Wow. Let me think. When I waved at Dop, she was still there. I think she was on the phone. Hmm, from her body language, I'd say she was arguing with someone. Dop came across the street to talk to me and I didn't pay attention to her. He kinda blocks the need for other people. We talked and I watched him photograph his groupies for a while. He's magic with his camera. Later, when he went to his bike, I don't remember seeing her red dress, and I didn't see where she went, or when. I only have eyes for Dop when he's around." A wistful look crossed her face.

Sonja snapped back to the present when Harley asked, "So she didn't leave with him?"

"No way. Dop doesn't mess with his models. If a photographer gets a reputation of being a womanizer, he loses the good ones. Dop is squeaky clean around his models."

"How do you know he's so gentlemanly with his models?" Harley asked.

Jabbing her cigarette at Harley, she said, "We compare notes. We warn each other of who to avoid."

"So, you're one of his models and his lover? It's against his rules isn't it?" Harley asked.

"Yep, every chance I get. Every day if I could. We were together long before I was his model. He's only been into photography professionally for fifteen years." Sonja pointed to her walls, and said, "Those are me, photographed by Dop. He knows how to make a woman's body talk, doesn't he?"

Harley rose to inspect Sonja's nude body in various seductive poses. "Always nude?" he asked.

"No," Sonja laughed, "but they show my assets best, don't you think? Some of them were for the mermaid on Dop's front door. He's a master carver also. It's a great likeness, so if you're there, you can inspect me up close, and touch too."

Harley glared at Ross who was stifling a giggle. He cleared his throat, and said, "These are rather seductive poses. Does he do porn? With you or anyone else you know of?"

"God no," she said. "Dop's never hinted at crossing the line to porn. He believes in art, not trash."

"Fine," Harley said. "Mrs. Smith, did you notice Doppelgänger's brother?"

Frowning, she said, "Dop's brother died many years ago. He got into drugs, and then the war messed him up even more. Dop worshipped his brother. He was deeply hurt when he died. Dop was in Nam at the end of the war and saw the dirty results of the war as they extracted military and civilians. He's never forgotten."

"He appears to be a non-conformist. Is it because of the war? Drugs?" Harley asked.

"Yes the war, no to drugs," she said. "He's been clean for years. You're younger; you didn't grow up in the '60's. We came out of the '50's believing everyone lived like Beaver Cleaver, only to discover the ugly truth. Dop's never forgotten those who went through the thick of it, like his brother."

"What do you mean?" Harley asked.

Smiling and taking a long drag on her cigarette, she said, "At least once a month he goes to the Veteran's Hospital to visit sick soldiers. I try to go with him. He takes a Polaroid camera, a pocket of film, and shoots pictures of Vets with their families. If they're alone he puts me in the picture with them. A man never forgets a pretty woman's smile or the feel of her kiss on his forehead. Sometimes it's hard. The aging broken bodies are one thing, but the unseen injuries or residual diseases make you cry. The young guys from the current mess rip you apart."

Allowing Sonja a moment to recover, Harley said, "A witness said there was a man who looked like Doppelgänger's twin. Anyone you know?"

Sonja shook her head. "No. Dop and his brother looked nothing alike. I didn't notice anyone who resembled Dop, but I know him better than the locals at the beach."

"Did you see anyone hanging around? Watching the shoot? Waiting?" he asked.

"No," said Sonja, "but give me a phone number and I'll think about it. I hang at the pier, so I'll watch and see if someone or something jogs my memory."

Harley and Ross rose and thanked Sonja for her help.

At the door Sonja said, "Whatever happened to the girl, Dop didn't do it. I'd trust him with my life."

*

In the car, Harley said, "So Jennifer vanished into thin air and Doppelgänger is an angel. Is that what I heard?"

"That's what I heard, twice," Ross said. "I assume you will do the follow-up interview with Mrs. Smith?"

Harley gave Ross a dirty look, and said, "I'm in no danger from Sonja. She worships Doppelgänger. Even though he's about ten years older than I am, he's in much better shape. If he didn't do anything, maybe I should ask about his lifestyle when this is over. With Sonja's attitude, I doubt she'd make an unbiased witness. Who's next?"

Stifling a smile, Ross pretended to shuffle her papers before saying, "We can try Dave Jansen. He could be home from work."

Spinning the wheel from the curb, Harley said, "Tell GPSy where we want to go and call Doppelgänger for the names of his models. If I get the sexy girls, you can do the hunks if he uses guys."

"Sure you don't need a chaperone? By the way, remember you're married," she said.

Harley grinned, "Believe me; my wife never lets me forget." Wiggling the fingers on his left hand, he said, "This big gold wedding band is her leash. Since I'm heavier than when we were married, I couldn't get it off if I tried, short of bolt cutters."

It was Ross' turn to grin, "Smart woman. Can't trust any man out of your sight for two seconds. Is that why I'm your partner? She knows I wouldn't touch you with a ten foot pole if you were the last man on earth?"

"Very funny, Ross" he said. "That, and she knows I wouldn't give a second glance at a hard-nosed, woman cop who could toss me if I dared a wrong thought."

***
Chapter 26

Sonja watched Harley and Ross drive away, and said after them, "You're wrong about Dominik Doppelgänger. He'd never hurt anyone."

The first time she was aware of Dop, she was a little kid in Mussel Beach. His Italian grandfather, Papa Gino, owned the grocery store. It was about 1962. She started kindergarten and her sister and Dop were in the same class. He was nine years old; she was only five, but she had a mad crush on him. Sometimes they all walked home together and his grandfather gave them each a candy. If Dop found a blooming weed, he picked a flower for both Sonja and her sister.

He was always the tallest kid in his class, but never a bully. On the contrary, he came to the rescue of kids being hassled, even if they were older. A few of the kids joined them on their parade home, so they would be safe.

*

Dominik Doppelgänger was born in San Diego in January of 1953, but raised in the community of Mussel Beach, northwest of downtown. His father's parents emigrated from Germany after WWI and settled in San Diego. His father married Gino's daughter and they all worked in the store.

Dop spent his childhood in the crowded apartment over the store. Seven family members shared it: his grandparents, his parents, and Dop with his older sister, Megan, and older brother, Mathew. Dop idolized Mathew, who was four years older, and Mathew always allowed Dop to hang out with him and his friends. Sonja's family lived a few blocks away in one of the small cottages.

In the late '50s, the cold war flourished, and in school, the kids had weekly duck-and-cover drills in case of a nuclear attack. Anti-communist rallies were common. Kennedy took office in 1961 and the next year he led the nation through the Cuban Missile Crisis. Dop was eight, too young to understand, but old enough to feel the fear of his elders.

As the '60s progressed, the surfers and hippies discovered the remote little community. They co-mingled into a rebellious conglomeration of youth who worshipped the sun, sand, water, sexual and political freedom, and drugs. Mussel Beach became the Height-Ashbury of San Diego. To this day, their influence remains, despite run-ins with the local law who tried to tame their activities.

At age ten, in 1963, Dop listened to King's Dream speech, watched thousands of reruns of Kennedy's assignation, and began hearing about a war in Vietnam.

The Beatles came to America in 1964, President Johnson signed the Civil Rights Act, and race riots sprang up around the country. At age eleven, Dop had had little contact with blacks in his small, white beach community, so he didn't understand. His grandparents came from Germany and Italy, so what did it matter if their grandparents came from Africa? He studied about slavery, but Lincoln freed them a century ago, and San Diego didn't have slaves.

1965, the U.S. bombed Vietnam and our soldiers entered their country. The Beatles, the Stones, Dylan, and Sonny and Cher, topped the music charts. Dop's longhaired, colorful, beaded friends were called hippies. His brother Mathew began smoking marijuana and talked about trying LSD.

By the end of 1968, Dop was fifteen. The TV news covered years of marches, protests, and riots: anti-war, civil rights, freedom, flower power, pro-drug, and anti-drug. Over 500,000 men and women were now in Vietnam, a few at My Lai. Mathew was drafted, went to Nam, but other young men were burning their draft cards and leaving the country.

In 1969, 500,000 seemed to be the number. A half-million people in Vietnam, at Woodstock, at Peace Day, and at the nationwide protest of the war, but also in those three years, 100,000 had been killed or wounded in Vietnam. Mathew was one of the wounded.

On December 1, 1969, the whole family watched the first draft lottery on TV. If Mathew had not already served and been discharged because of injuries and drug use, he'd have lottery number 10. All young men between eighteen and twenty-six held their breath that night, but Dop was only sixteen. Watching as Mathew threw his crutch at the TV, Dop finally understood the impact of the past ten years. His lottery would be in two years. How could you plan a life with the threat of the draft hanging over your head? Out of 365, any number up to 150 was a certain fate. The odds were poor.

On a cloudy December day in 1971, Dominik's number became #30. The day after his high school graduation, Mathew, half stoned on pot, took Dop to the recruiter's office, and made him enlist in the Navy, to keep him out of the jungles. Nixon promised the war would end soon, but a peace agreement was only a thin sheet of paper. Dop left for recruit training July 5, 1971 and the last troops were withdrawn from Vietnam in August 1972.

In 1975, Dop returned home, whole, and drug free except for occasional social use. Because of his size and strength, he served as a deck hand on an aircraft carrier, moving planes on and off the deck. He returned with few marketable skills and few job opportunities. In 1973 the stock market crashed, the U.S. went through the Oil Embargo, resulting in lines and gas rationing. NYC filed bankruptcy in 1975, and unemployment was 9.0%.

During the four years Dop was gone, Mathew rarely had a job, but ran with a motorcycle gang and used drugs. He had two short stints in jail for possession. Dop was twenty-two, depressed, discouraged, and ready to follow the brother he idolized from childhood.

Mathew said, "No. You're going to school. I'll pay what the GI Bill doesn't cover."

Twenty-five years later Dominik Doppelgänger had a successful business, but Mathew was gone. The 1960s left a bitter taste in Dop's mouth, even though he wasn't in the thick of the war. All he knew as a child was the fear of the bomb and communism, the hellish effects of the war on his family and friends, and a government who discarded 47,000 dead and 300,000 wounded Americans. Thousands more who returned had unseen injuries and never recovered from the atrocities. Mathew was dead from the government's hand as sure as it he took a bullet from the VC.

Dominik's appearance portrayed his attitude: long hair, earrings, tattoos, jeans, and tie-dyed t-shirts. It caused him problems when he didn't meet the vision of normal. When he was younger, the cops hassled him, especially when he was on his bike. More than once, he spent a night in jail until they realized he was a law-abiding citizen, or not caught, they assumed. Dop didn't care. He was happy with his lifestyle and he had no plans to change.

Dop loved the brother who rescued him from the aftermath of the war and society. Dop wouldn't let him down.

***
Chapter 27

Tuesday, 1:15 p.m.-

While Harley and Ross were interviewing Sonja, Doppelgänger escorted Ginger to Pete's parking lot, where she led Dop to her candy apple red convertible.

"Nice," he said. "Bet you could outrun a cop or two with those wheels. Ever try?"

Tossing her copper mane and laughing, she said, "A time or two. There's more than one warrant out there for unpaid speeding tickets, but what the heck, life's a series of challenges. Where do you live Doppelgänger, in a normal house or in a tent in a commune?" she said.

"Down the road about five miles," he said. "The town's called Derby Point."

"Bet it's by the racetrack, huh? Race you there?" she said.

Dop grinned, and said, "Can't beat the She Devil in traffic. It's not a fair match."

"Then we use car rules," she said. "You can't slice between two cars at a light and you can only change lanes like you're driving a car."

"Deal, but we'll meet at dog beach for some photos," Dop said. "It's across from the racetrack."

"What's the prize?" Ginger asked.

With a slow grin, Dop said in a low raspy voice, "Best sex you've ever had."

Slipping her sunglasses over her blue eyes, she said, "Sounds like we both win, no matter who gets there first."

Dop turned, flashing the thumbs up sign. He liked a challenge from a beautiful woman and he was sure this one would give him a run for his money. He felt the fabric of his jeans tighten as he walked away. Glancing over his shoulder while strapping his helmet under his chin, he thought, yes this one could keep him on a dead run for a long stretch. As he turned away, Ross' face flashed through his mind, but he pushed aside her image to pursue a sure thing.

*

They left Pete's parking lot with wheels squealing and dirt flying. The top was down on her car and Dop could see her red curls whipping in the wind, the sun flashing fiery shards in his rearview mirror. How in the hell could he take a picture of that?

Dop obeyed the rules, so at times, he was ahead, and sometimes Ginger sped past him, cutting in and out of traffic like a pro. Didn't matter who won the race, this party would be first prize for both of them; he felt it against the leather seat between his legs. More than once the vibration from the bike added to the ache of desire. Each flash of coppery hair sent pangs of anticipation through his hardening body. Maybe dog beach was a mistake, but the mid afternoon sunlight would be perfect on her red hair.

The race ended in a virtual tie as Dop cut around the front of Ginger's slowing car while she was looking for a parking place. Dop wasn't as concerned about finding parking for his bike. He was lifting the camera from his tail bag when Ginger approached him.

"Cheater," she said. "I was ahead most of the way, you only won at the entrance to the parking lot."

Keeping his eyes on the camera, Dop said, "I let you stay ahead so I could watch the wind whip your hair. Quite a sight. I'll figure out how to mount a camera on my bike and take pictures while we're speeding down a remote highway."

Ginger punched his shoulder, and said, "Liar. You didn't have a chance until I slowed to park."

After studying her face, he said in a low growly voice, "No chance at all? I own the prize, remember?"

Ginger bit her lip and steadied her breathing as she stared back into Dop's dark eyes. "Maybe a tiny chance," she whispered. "We'll see how good I look in the photos."

Dop reached for a windswept red curl, pulled it down, and let it spring back into place. "Might be an insurmountable challenge. Come on; let's see what I can do with your mop of fire." He turned and led the way to the beach.

Ginger wore a cobalt blue, sleeveless shirt under her white windbreaker. A wonderful contrast to her red hair. Her slim hips and legs spilled into her stretch jeans. The high heels were a challenge on the sandy slope to the beach, so she removed them and went barefoot.

At the bottom of the hill, Dop lifted her onto a huge pile of rocks. He shot some full body shots, and then moved in for close-ups. Without her jacket, a million freckles filled his screen, and her blue eyes reflected the color of her shirt. He loved the shots of her peeking through her windswept, fiery locks.

Dop asked her to lay on the sand, where he spread her hair on the grainy, white surface. He circled her from all directions, taking snapshots of her red corkscrews, while he searched for the best angle for the sun's rays to explode off her coppery tresses.

When he took her hand and pulled her to her feet, she said, "That was fun, but my hair is full of sand." She shook her head, and Dop turned her around and shook out more sand with his hands.

"We'll get the rest out at my house," he said.

Still shaking her head, she said, "How will you do that, short of scalping me?"

He placed his large hand behind her head and pulled her to his body. With a flat stare, he looked directly into her eyes, their lips inches apart and said, "You doubt the Dop?"

Ginger felt a fleeting pang of fear, but relaxed under his gaze, and molded herself to his hard torso. "I don't know you Dop, but I believe I could trust my life with you," she said. His breath was hot on her lips, but he released her without the kiss she anticipated.

Dop took her hand and led her to her car. "Think you can refrain from speeding past me long enough to follow me home?"

"How far?" she asked.

"Two miles too far." He picked her up in his arms, kissed her cheek, and slid her into her seat under the steering wheel. Her heart raced as he sauntered to his bike, put the camera in the tail bag, and mounted his shiny, black steed. He didn't look back as he sped from the parking lot. He had no doubt she was following.

***
Chapter 28

Tuesday, 2:00 p.m.-

Mary and Joshua Olsen occupied a condo in a tall complex overlooking the Pacific Ocean south of San Luis. The photo showed a tall woman, extremely well dressed for walking a dog. Joshua wore a suit with an open collar shirt. The dog was a white fluff ball, obviously cared for very well. Ross and Harley heard the yipping puppy long before Mr. Olsen answered the door. They previously announced themselves through a call box in the plush lobby.

"Come in, come in, Detectives." Olsen waved aside their badges and led them to a large living room with a view to the blue horizon. The dog yipped at their feet. "Officers, this is my wife Mary and call me Joshua, we're informal here." Scooping up the dog, he said, "This is Snowflake. Quiet now, little one, these are the County's finest. You must be polite to them because they will find the culprit if anyone harms my baby." Ross and Harley exchanged quick glances.

Mary Olsen extended her hand, and said, "So glad to meet you; please call me Mary. May I get coffee?"

"No thanks," Harley said, "we only have a few questions."

The dog yipped and Joshua fluffed her fir and kissed her cheek. Mary scowled at him and he and the dog sat quietly, like statues. Harley wasn't sure who controlled the money, but he knew who controlled the house. Even at home, the couple was elegantly dressed for mid-afternoon.

In his pleasantest voice, Harley asked if Mary recognized the man in the picture.

Adjusting her glittery-framed glasses, Mary closely examined Doppelgänger's picture. "Yes, yes, he's the scruffy man who loves his camera as much as Joshua loves his dog. I'm always nervous when he's at the pier. Is he an outlaw biker or ex-felon?" she asked with a shudder.

Harley grinned, and said, "We haven't determined his background yet, but why do you assume he's a criminal?"

"Well," she said, straightening her back, "he looks like a criminal. He's a hippie, with such long hair, silly mustache, pierced ears, and tatty clothes. He disturbs the peace with the noise from that, that motorcycle. He should wear long sleeves to cover those tattoos. How uncouth to display a naked woman on your skin."

Harley had admired the mermaid's shapely, inked anatomy, but said, "Anything concrete to prove he's a criminal?"

She sniffed, and said, "He ogles those young girls at the beach."

Thinking about his own reaction to young sunbathers, Harley said, "Hmm, I don't think it's a crime to look at scantly clothed girls at the beach. Anything else?"

"He photographs them," she said.

Harley asked, "More than photos? Physical contact?"

"Yes, yes," she said, shaking her finger at Harley. "He kisses the blond woman. They would do more than kiss if it weren't a public walkway. I've seen them together several times. It is disgusting the way they behave in public."

"Does he touch or approach other girls?" Harley asked.

"No, but he wants to. He watches them. He lures them with his camera. He makes them act like tramps, the way they prance around for him." She shuddered.

"Do they leave with him?" Harley asked.

"Well, no," she said, "not that I've seen."

Harley handed the photo of the Olsens to Mary. "Did he take this photo of you and Joshua?"

She scowled, much the same as she did in the photo, and said coolly, "Yes, but without permission. I demanded his name and phone number and gave him ours to get a copy so we would have a record of what he did."

"Mrs. Olsen, if you were so sure he was a criminal, why did you give him your personal information?" Harley asked.

Mary gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. "Oh my, do we need to change our locks or hire security?"

Harley tried not to alarm her, but said, "It's never a good idea to give personal information to strangers, but as yet we don't know if he's a threat. Just because a person is scruffy doesn't mean he's bad, likewise not all well-dressed people are good." Turning to Joshua, Harley said, "Did you notice anything amiss with the dog's behavior."

"No detective," he said.

"Of course not," Mary said, "all he sees is his silly dog. He uses her to attract as much attention as that man uses his camera."

Joshua hugged and kissed his pet, and said, "Everyone loves my Snowflake, don't they my Sweet?"

Mary rolled her eyes, and asked, "Did the man do something bad? Is that why you're here?"

Harley shared the photo of Jennifer. "Did you see this girl?"

Mary said, "Ask Joshua about her. She was another one of his dog lovers."

"Oh yes, I talked to her," said Joshua. "We were approaching our car and passed the young woman. Beautiful girl. When we neared her, she knelt to the ground and admired Snowflake. She called her a pretty puppy. I thanked her for her kind words, and she returned to her phone call. We entered the car and came home."

"The young lady is missing. Did you hear any of her phone call, see her with anyone, or see her leave?" Harley asked.

"No," said Joshua. "I do not eavesdrop on phone conversations, but she was standing alone, near a car when we drove away. A small blue, foreign car, I believe. Our son would know all about it, but we only own European cars, right Dear?"

"Absolutely," Mary said.

Harley asked, "What time did you leave?"

Checking her watch, Mary said, "We always leave precisely at 11:30 a.m. We have a lunch date with Don and Margo on Sundays at the Club. We were nearly late because Joshua had to stop for the girl to ogle his dog."

Harley worked hard to refrain from snickering. "Did either of you notice anyone else suspicious in the area, or was there another man who resembled the photographer?"

Both replied, "No."

*

Ross and Harley thanked the couple and returned to the car. Harley said, "Strike four, but we get one more at bat."

***
Chapter 29

Tuesday, 3:00 p.m.-

Dop roared up the final hill to his driveway and slipped his bike into a small shed. Nearby, Ginger set the brake on her car. She admired the well-landscaped yard as she stood by her car...waiting. Without a word or touch, Dop proceeded to the front door.

As he inserted his key, she said, "Stop." She ran her fingers over the smooth wood of the mermaid sculpture on the door. The mermaid reclined on a pile of rocks, while long stemmed kelp flowed upward. Seashells, coral, and small fish embossed the ocean bottom below her fanned tail. Her generous breasts were topless. "This is beautiful. She's much larger than the one at Pete's."

"Thanks again, that's Sonja, too," he said. "Told you she's a great model."

Dop opened the door, but Ginger said, "Hold it. Did you do this carving, too?"

"Yea, still want one?" he asked.

"Do I want one? I don't think I can run to the store like I do for a quart of milk. It must take weeks or months to complete a carving this size," she said. "She's half of life size and as real as...a real person. The detail is amazing."

"Yea, she's a beautiful woman," Dop said.

Ginger extended her hand to the mermaid, but quickly pulled it back, and said, "You mean I'm caressing one of your lovers?"

"Well no," Dop said, "just her image."

Ginger pushed past him into the house. "I don't think I want your girlfriend on my front door."

"I could do one of you," he said.

"Yea sure, and let all my neighbors know what I look like nude? No thanks," she said.

"I could put clothes on her," he said.

"Then she wouldn't be a mermaid," Ginger said. "Just show me where you work."

Grinning, he said, "Which work? Sculpting, carving, photography, gardening, architectural drawing, or making love to the loser?"

Slowly examining Dop from head to toe, Ginger said, "You're a mysterious man of many talents, but making love shouldn't be work."

"If it's done right it's very delicate work, like carving the mermaid. It should never be casual." Dop grabbed the front of Ginger's jacket, pulled her close enough to glide the zipper to the bottom, and slid it from her shoulders. Her skin beneath the freckles was pink from the sun. Running a finger over her arm, Dop said, "You're burned, does it hurt?"

She said, "Not much, I'll live."

Kissing her pink skin, he said, "I've got some lotion to make it feel better. In fact, it'll make your skin feel better, burnt or not. Shall I apply some first aide?"

Letting her head fall back with her eyes closed, Ginger said, "You're a medic, too? Heal me doctor."

"This is my rescue the damsel routine." He picked her up and pushed through a door to an enormous bed with a carved headboard and spiral posters. Ginger didn't care if the figures were mermaids, angels, or devils; she could examine them later, much later...maybe tomorrow.

Dop reached into a drawer and lifted a purple bottle. The room filled with the scent of lavender when he removed the stopper. Whatever was in the bottle soothed her burning skin, her arms, her hands, her neck, and her face. Soft lips intensified the cooling sensation. He was right; her skin tingled as Dop's hands caressed each curve with the magic lotion. Her bare breasts reacted to the touch of his lips, teeth, and large soft hands. The button and zipper released the opening of her tight jeans and they slid over hips, legs, and bare feet. Dop laughed softly when he realized she didn't wear panties. He pulled on the red curls with his teeth, let them slip through as he raised his head, and watched them spring back to their nesting place at the top of her long legs. She wrapped her bare legs around his neck, drawing his lips toward her sweet spot.

Dop slithered forward over her body and said, "Not so fast firecracker. We have a long night ahead of us. Maybe you should have eaten two burgers, too." He repeated the sensuous process of imbibing every inch of her squirming body, skin to skin, tongue to skin, and teeth to skin.

Ginger was no novice in bed, but other men rushed to their own pleasure, leaving her cold. This man carved all the pleasure he could from her body into himself. She pulled his shirt over his head so she could watch his muscles flex with each motion. The massage to her feet and legs with his long, strong fingers, made her muscles so relaxed, she knew she couldn't walk.

This time, when he reached her coppery curls, he blew on them, which made her giggle. He reached for the purple bottle and massaged the sweetest part of her body until she soared to ecstasy.

Smiling at the rapid rise and fall of her chest, he kissed her belly and worked to her mouth. In a near whisper, he said, "Now do me." He rolled and flipped her on top of his body and handed her the purple bottle. From the look on her face, he knew she had never made love to a man with the slow intensity he requested. "Start with my fingers. Get to know each line of the tattoos. Return the pleasure I gave you."

His narrow hips were easy to straddle with her long legs, but when she reached for the button on his jeans, he pulled her hand away, and said, "Not yet; share our pleasure slowly." Smiling, she began her task of learning to seduce a man in a way he would never forget.

When she came to the top of his jeans, she ran a finger under the waistband until she made brief contact with his waiting erection, then pulled away. He grabbed her hand to push it back inside, but she laughed and said, "Not yet, Mr. Impatience." She messaged his feet, but with his jeans on, she couldn't do his legs. Instead, she bit his thigh through the fabric, slowly moving toward the bulging zipper. He grabbed fistfuls of her hair to drag her closer, but she held back to torture him as long as he had done to her.

Her first bite on the fly sent him into orbit. As she nuzzled the inseam, he yelled, "Damn you woman," but she laughed and tantalized him further. Slowly she released the button and slid the zipper far enough to touch the tip of her tongue to his tip. He raised his butt to encourage her, but she continued her slow teasing. Gradually the zipper reached its end and she pulled his jeans over his legs, but returned to his mouth, feeling his hardness against her belly.

She retraced her downward path, so he said in a husky voice, "What flavors do you like?"

She was puzzled until he opened the dolphin on his nightstand. She made her selection and soon she held him fully in her mouth, mimicking the motion he would soon use to complete coitus.

Pulling her upward, he flipped her onto her back and attacked her sweet spot until she screamed, "Do it; do it now." He was wild with excitement, which spurred her readiness. The slowness of foreplay erupted into madness as he fulfilled the culmination of their mutual needs.

*

It was awhile before they recuperated enough to communicate intelligently.

"I don't know about you," Ginger said, "but it was the best prize I ever won...and it was second place."

Dop nibbled on her shoulder and murmured, "First place was okay, too. Your fiery hair is in more places than your head, Miss Ginger." She rolled into his arms and began working on him again, but he pushed away and said, "I need to recuperate. Maybe later."

"Then I don't need to kiss and run?" she said.

"Not yet. We still need to see if you'd make a good mermaid."

"How do we do that?" she asked.

"The lagoon is in the garage with lighting equipment and settings a mermaid might use." After donning shorts and tossing a silky robe to Ginger, Dop said, "Come on, I'll show you."

***
Chapter 30

Tuesday, 5:00 p.m.-

The photo of David was of a tall, shapely young man on inline roller skates with high pink socks folded over the tops. He wore tight short shorts and a spandex tank top, both black. His black eyes peered over pink sunglasses, held by his left hand low on his nose. The look was not quite sexy, but an interesting man. Yes, Doppelgänger had a way with his camera.

As Ross and Harley turned off the freeway and ascended a windy road above the mall, Harley said, "Well, at least it's an all right neighborhood. Maybe the kids won't slit our tires here. Third house on the left?" They entered David Jensen's house with little ado after the normal introduction.

The house was stark white, except for pink and black accessories. Covering the walls, were photographs of David in elaborate costumes. He appeared to be an entertainer...of some kind.

Ross took the lead with David, handing him Doppelgänger's picture. "Mr. Jansen, do you know this man?"

Wiggling into a chair, David said, "Not personally, Honey, he's not my type. He's into the cute, skinny girls, except for a blond beauty with braids. He took this picture Sunday, didn't he?"

Immediately realizing her womanly charm would not work on this hunk, Ross remained very professional. "How often do you see him around the pier?"

Extending, and admiring, a trim, well-muscled leg, he said, "I skate every morning and evening. Keeps me in the running. The tan helps, too. Gyms are expensive and you don't always meet the right class of people, if you know what I mean."

Pointing at Doppelgänger's photo, Ross said, "The man?"

"Oh yea, the man, Honey," he said. "Well, I see him once or twice a week. He always has a camera with a huge lens. All the better to see the girls on the beach without them being aware of his presence. Nice work if you can get it." David leaned forward, raised his eyebrows, and asked, "He do something naughty?"

Ross leaned forward, too, and asked, "Why do you ask, Mr. Jansen?"

"Well," he said, as he settled himself into his chair working his body into the plush cushions, "I see things. People avoid me because they think I'm the local gay freak, but I have eyes and ears. The girls think they're safe from me, and the guys ignore me, so I can get fairly close to people."

"What do you see and hear?" Ross asked.

"He's always hitting on the blond honey." David smiled knowingly, and added, "She snuggles right up to him like my honey does to me. They'd do it right there if it was legal. He doesn't try to hide what he wants. Neither does she, but hers doesn't show like his does. It would be disgusting if it weren't such a turn on. Makes me want to be a girl." His siren pitched laughed rang through the house.

Ross had to recuperate from the mental image of Doppelgänger with Sonja before she asked, "Have you seen him with other girls or women?"

"Not that way," he said, "but he makes love to them with his camera as sure as he's touched them. He's a magnet to pretty, young girls on the beach. They preen and pose as if he's about to put them in a sex magazine for men to ogle. Some have promise, but some are...ah, let's say, not pretty, or skinny and shapely."

"Are most of them strangers?" asked Ross.

"Yea, he drags them off the beach or boardwalk like flies to a bowl of sugar. Maybe I'll get a camera and shoot my guys. It'd be a trip, having a bunch of gay dudes posing on the beach." David fell back onto his chair laughing and clapping his hands.

Handing David another picture, Ross asked, "Have you seen this girl?"

David studied the paper. He turned his head from side to side, and said, "Yea...I caught the end of him taking pictures Sunday morning. The dude was putting stuff in his bike and she was standing by the gazebo talking on the phone real happy like. She made another call, but she was mad at the other person."

Ross asked, "Did you see her leave?"

Waving a hand, he said, "No, I was into the dude with the blond."

"Did you see the dude or the blond leave?" Ross asked.

David scrunched his face, thinking very dramatically before he said, "Nooo, I hung awhile, but I wheeled down the boardwalk looking for a friend. When I got back to the pier, they were all gone. Poof," he flicked his fingers and chimed, "Vanished like the morning fog on a sunny day."

Ross asked, "What time was it, Mr. Jansen?"

"Twoish," he said. "Hey, what's going on? The dude do the young one?"

"The young one is missing," Ross said.

"Ooh, not cool dude, especially when the blond's hotter. You ask me, the dude didn't give shit about the skinny one, but I'll ask around. Maybe one of my boys saw something. Can I keep the pics? Can I wear a disguise and be a spy? I can be a really spiffy lady. Might fool the dude for a while, until he got too close." David doubled over laughing, and said, "Wouldn't that frost his thing."

Suppressing a smile, Ross handed a card to David, and said, "If you hear anything, call me. The smallest thing might help, but no spy stuff Mr. Jansen. Leave it to us."

*

In the car, Harley scrunched his face and pinched the bridge of his nose, "Ross, has this been the weirdest day of our lives, or what? Who seems more normal, the last couple, or Jansen?"

Ross sighed, as she admitted to herself, she misread Jansen. "I vote for the couple," she said, punching the next address in the GPS.

***
Chapter 31

Tuesday, 6:00 p.m.-

Lucy Mills and Dora Turner were roommates in an older apartment building four blocks from the beach. Dora screamed, "Hey Lucy, the cops are here," as Harley and Ross entered the less than orderly living room.

From the bedroom came the reply, "Tell the dumb shits I paid all my tickets last month." Lucy stopped cold when she saw Ross and Harley. "Woops, sorry, I didn't know you were inside officers, but I did pay my tickets."

Harley decided to get even, "Sit down Miss Mills, we have some questions to ask you."

Lucy, with dark curly hair pulled into two ponytails, seemed ready to bolt, but decided to sit on a chair with her hands folded in her lap. With wide eyes, she nervously gazed at the detectives. Dora had long, straight blond hair. Both girls wore cut-off jeans and t-shirts.

"Miss Mills, where were you Sunday morning?" asked Harley.

Lucy looked at Dora, and said demurely, "We were at the beach by the pier, but we didn't do anything wrong."

Waiting, while she squirmed, Harley finally asked, "Did you see the man in this photo?"

Hesitantly, Lucy said, "Yes."

"What time?" he asked.

Again, looking at Dora, Lucy said, "It was about 10:00 a.m., wasn't it Dora?" Dora nodded.

"What was he doing?" Harley asked.

Still nervous, Lucy said, "He was taking pictures of a model in a red dress. She was on the gazebo."

"How long were they there?" Harley said.

"Ooh, we watched them a long time. Maybe they stopped about 11:00 a.m. What do you think, Dora?" She quickly nodded in agreement, but remained silent.

"Then what happened?" he said.

Lucy shrugged, so Dora said, "He, they call him Dop, put some things in his motorcycle, then he came over to the blond lady on the boardwalk. They talked, and walked away before they began kissing...and stuff."

"Stuff?" Harley asked.

The girls exchanged glances, and Lucy said, "They almost did it right there on the boardwalk. He grabbed her butt with both hands and had her mashed against his...pants. He lifted her right off the ground. She had her arms around his neck and sucked his tongue out of his mouth. She said something, he said something, she got mad, and pushed him away. She was still mad when she walked back toward us."

"What did the man do?" he said.

Giggling, Lucy put her hand over her mouth, so Dora said, "He stood there with his pants sticking out, and he looked mad, too. After a few minutes, he walked back to the blond lady, and they talked. She smiled and he took pictures of her."

"Did either of you hear what they said?" Harley asked. Both girls shook their heads. "When did he take this picture of you girls?"

They giggled in unison, before Lucy said, "He took pictures of the blond lady, a guy on skates, an old couple, and a man and woman with a white dog. We asked him to take our picture. He told us to act like it was the best day of our lives, so we did. We danced around and had fun while he took pictures. We gave him our email so he could send copies to us. It was neat. He's a cool guy."

Harley studied the girls, and said, "How old are you girls?"

Dora said, "Were both nineteen. We've known each other since grade school."

Frowning, Harley asked, "Did he touch you or ask you to go anywhere with him?"

"No," said Lucy. "He never touches anyone except the blond lady. He only takes hundreds of pictures. He never said anything about going anywhere."

"Did he take you off by yourselves at the pier or take one of you alone?"

"No," said Lucy. "He just took pictures of lots of people. He hardly ever talked to them, except to ask them if it was okay. What did he do? He seemed like a cool guy?"

"The girl in the red dress is missing. Is the girl in this photo the girl you saw Sunday morning?"

Lucy and Dora exchanged wide-eyed looks. Both agreed the girl was Jennifer.

Harley said, "When he was photographing Jennifer, did he touch her or act like he was coming on to her?"

"No," said Dora, "Mostly he stayed on the ground or stairs. He wore a microphone and seemed to talk to her, telling her what to do. She was his model, nothing more. He could have been photographing a fish. He has a huge camera, so he hardly ever gets close to people."

"Lucy, did you see anything else?" She shook her head. "Did he talk to Jennifer again?" Harley asked.

"No, she was by the gazebo, and he was on the boardwalk," said Lucy.

"What happened to Jennifer? Where did she go? Did you see her leave?" he asked.

"Like we said, she was still by the gazebo when Dop came to the boardwalk," said Lucy. "I didn't pay attention to her, but later I don't remember seeing the red dress anywhere. I didn't see her leave. I never thought about her." Dora nodded in agreement.

"Did you see her near a car?" Harley asked. Both girls shook their heads, no.

"Did you see anyone lurking about? Another man?" he asked.

Again, both indicated, no, but Dora added, "I was only watching Dop 'cause he's so cool." Lucy agreed and they giggled.

"Girls, you're both nineteen and he's fifty years old," Harley said.

They shrugged, and Lucy said, "Old guys can be cool."

Inhaling deeply, Harley asked, "What time did the old guy leave and was he alone?"

The girls exchanged glances, and Dora said, "I guess about...I don't know."

Lucy agreed, but added, "He rode away alone. I watched him until he was out of sight. He didn't stop."

After thinking for a minute, Harley asked, "Has he emailed your photos?"

"Yes, we got them this morning. Do you want to see them?" Dora asked.

"No thank you," Harley said. "He gave us all the pictures. Did he say anything? Has he emailed since then?"

Lucy shook her head, "The email only said, 'Photos attached', and he hasn't emailed since, but I can check the computer."

"You can check when we're gone and call me if you hear from him. I'll leave my card if you think of anything else," Harley said. "Thank you very much, girls."

*

In the car Ross said, "Strike five. Again, Doppelgänger is an angel and Jennifer vanished. Basically, each witness said the same thing. Bert saw another man and David saw a blue car, so we can ask Marcus to check his photos for those things." She laughed, and said, "Old guy? Aren't you about forty-five, Harley?"

"Shut up, Ross, or you can walk back to the station." She laughed again and he glared at her.

"Okay Harley, are we done today, or do we want to compile all this info tonight?"

"Doesn't seem like much to compile since everyone agrees. I'll leave a message for Marcus to look for the man and the car, or any car with a license plate he can read. I'm an old man; I need my sleep. We'll meet early and go talk to Doppelgänger again."

***
Chapter 32

Tuesday, 6:00 p.m.-

"Wow," Ginger gasped as she explored the garage studio. One wall displayed an underwater scene and one an above water scene. Dop had mounted various rock formations on wheels so he could push them into place. She jumped on one rock, crossed her legs, and parted the robe to show her ample breasts and legs as she leaned back and wiggled her body. "How's this?" she purred.

Laughing, he stood with his hands on his hips, and said, "The first thing you need to learn about mermaids is, they don't have legs."

"Oh yea," she said. "They're half fish and they swim. What do I do with my legs?"

Dop reached into the closet and handed her a long green, stretchy tube with a flared bottom. "Pull this on with the seam in the back. There's a separate top piece for customers who object to bare breasts. We'll photograph each setting with and without the top."

"How many want topless mermaids?" she asked.

"About half and half, but ninety percent want erect nipples. If the mermaid is for a private home, the majority want topless. Businesses are more conservative. Most customers want the mermaid lounging on rocks rather than swimming. Almost all want long flowing hair, so you'll need to wear a wig." Chuckling, Dop said, "I don't think anyone would buy short frizzy, red hair."

Ginger reached to pull her hair up and away from her face, which lifted her breasts. Dop raised his eyebrows and said, "Remember that pose, it could benefit both of us. P. S., if I contract a mermaid from one of your photos, you get 5% when I'm paid. I require a 50% non-refundable deposit, and the other half before shipment. The customer has thirty days to return the piece undamaged."

"I wouldn't ask, except we're talking finance, but how much does one of those cost?" she asked.

"The mermaid on my front door and Pete's mirror run from $50,000 to $100.000. A full size mermaid with rocks and detail can go for $200,000."

"Holy crap," she said. "You make mega bucks."

"Yea, before taxes, costs, and commissions. Remember, it takes three to nine months to do a one of a kind carving. I generally don't complete more than three major pieces a year," he said.

"Okay, and they're paying for art," she said. "Wow, I could become art."

Dop laughed and said, "Yes, I suppose so, but not tonight." He pulled the robe around Ginger's body and kissed her nose. "The face is more relaxed in the morning after a good night's sleep."

Frowning, she said, "So you're sending me home?"

"No. I want you here early and rested. No sex after 10:00 p.m.," he said.

She hit Dop with the belt tie, and said, "You're no fun. Oh, I didn't bring clothes for tomorrow or makeup."

Snapping the stretchy, green tube, he said, "You don't need clothes, and I have makeup. Full body makeup. Mermaids don't have freckles, either."

Sidling to him, she asked, "How do you know, have you seen many mermaids?"

"I've seen quite a few mermaids and none of them had freckles," he said. "Besides, they're hard to carve."

Ginger scowled, pulled off the mermaid dress, and stomped to the living room. Securing the belt of the robe, she walked to the windows and said, "Wow, what a view. I can see the horizon and there are enough clouds to make a gorgeous sunset later. Mermaids can buy happiness. I'd better learn to carve."

Dop laughed, and said, "And to have concentration and discipline. Gotta lay off the booze, too. Can't wake up with a hangover and you need an extremely steady hand...no shakes."

"But you seem to be a regular at Pete's, where we met earlier," she said.

"I am, but I get one beer with food, otherwise I drink iced tea," he said.

"Hmm, that dampens the party spirit," she said.

"You don't need to be drunk to have a good time, and I remember the good times," he said.

After ogling Dop, Ginger said, "I'll remember our earlier party for a long time."

With raised eyebrows, he said, "Not forever?"

She nodded and smiled. "Yea, probably forever." A few minutes later, she said, "Shall I treat you to dinner somewhere? I don't see any sign of cooking in your marvelous kitchen. It's a showcase...and spotless. Do you cook?"

"Not often, salads or sandwiches are easy. I'd rather build a kitchen than use it," he said.

"Build it? You built this kitchen?" she asked.

"Yes, and everything in the house," he said. "Remodeling houses and offices is my real profession. I bought this house about twenty years ago. It was cheap because it was a disaster, but I made it our showroom."

"Our?" she asked.

"John, my former partner and I," he said. "We worked together over fifteen years." Dop handed a notebook to Ginger. "This is our portfolio. When my carvings gained acclaim, I sold out to him and concentrated on them. I enjoy the solitude and artistic creativity. Occasionally, I work with John when someone wants art, more than utility."

Flipping through the book, Ginger said, "These are fantastic. I'm not sure which I would pick, but I prefer the lighter woods to dark. Maybe because I lived in the desert so long. The dark woods seem so heavy and formal. The light woods open the room and bring in the light and casual feel."

"Good eye," he said. "Until recently, wealthy doctors, lawyers, and accountants wanted the dark woods which demonstrated wealth and position, old world opulence. Offices are still rather dark, but homes are half-and-half, leaning towards light, especially at the beach.

Ginger was fingering a photo of a kitchen, and said, "Is the model Sonja?" Dop nodded, so she said, "She's beautiful...even in clothes."

He threw back his head and laughed at Ginger's admiration of Sonja. "Yea, when I began adding her to my photos, our orders doubled."

"Tell me about her," Ginger said.

"We grew up together, south of here. We got together for a while after I returned from Nam, but she wanted someone more stable," he said.

Looking around Dop's house, and then at him, she said, "You seem pretty stable to me."

Laughing, he said, "Not back then. I came home from the war, ready to follow my wayward brother in his biker gang. Fortunately, he wouldn't allow it. He made me go to school."

"Where's your brother now?" she asked.

Spreading his arms, Dop said, "I'm here." His look became wistful, as he said, "He's not."

"Sorry," she said.

"Can't change it. He was a victim of the political system of the time. I was lucky he wasn't totally wasted yet. I loved him more than any person on the face of this earth. I never tithed to a church, but I give ten percent of my checks to veteran's organizations. Many guys who came home didn't have a brother or family who cared...or it was too late. I've got too many friends on The Wall."

Examining Dop's faraway look, she said, "I'm too young to understand. My Dad was in the war, but way back in the beginning. When I was a kid, I went to DC with my parents. My dad traced the names of his friends from The Wall. No one in my life had died yet, so I didn't understand the concept of death. All those names were disturbing when he equated them to my friends who didn't know their dads. He never talks about it, but he still goes to the Memorial Day parades and salutes each soldier."

"Same here," Dop said, "but let's change the subject. Today is today."

Turning away, Ginger said, "Did you ever get married?"

Dop said, "Yea, but it didn't last long. We were both too young to understand about building a relationship, and how to live on nothing but love. I had a degree, but drifted from job to job. I hadn't made a name yet and the economy was bad. She and my son went home to her folks and I drowned myself in menial jobs until I met John and we began building a business."

"Did you get to know your son?" she asked.

"Yea, he's a great kid. He's a lawyer for a big firm in Reno," Dop said and laughed. "I embarrass him though. My idea of dress up is an old sports jacket over my jeans and tank top. If there's a new receptionist when I go to visit him, I can tell she's ready to reach for the alarm button. I'm not their usual client."

Patting her red curls, Ginger said, "Yea, I'm there, too, looking like Bozo. Anyway, how often do you do photo-sessions with Sonja?"

"Periodically," Dop said.

"Clothed or nude?" she asked.

"Both, why?" he asked.

"I want to know my competition," she said. "In photography and in life."

Backing away, he said, "Whoa, don't be getting any ideas about diamonds. I like my independence. I don't do well with authority and rules. Women come with rules. I stick with Sonja, because she understands the boundaries. Usually I don't mix business with pleasure."

"So what am I?" Ginger asked.

Grinning, he said, "Very pleasurable at the moment, but business can overrule the pleasure, because I need to stay focused when I'm working on a sculpture."

"Hmm," she said. "Maybe I don't want to become a mermaid, if I stay around."

"What makes you stay or move on?" Dop asked.

"The job, the atmosphere, the male population, my mood," she said. "Occasionally, the law. My hot red car attracts too much attention in small towns."

"San Diego's pretty big. Not too hard to get lost in the crowd here," he said.

Shrugging, she said, "You'd be surprised. I tend to be a cop magnet."

"There're parts of town you'd be drab in comparison to the locals. Tell me if you leave. I don't like people disappearing from my life without a word," Dop said. He threaded his large hand into her fiery mop of hair and pulled her mouth to his. "You taste good, but I need to eat something besides you. How about a salad? It's fast and easy."

"Well, that doesn't describe you, does it?" she said.

He laughed and said, "Not usually, but sometimes it meets the occasion." Dop pushed her away and soon they were on the patio with two huge salads.

As they finished eating, Ginger said, "I love your place, especially the sunset. Sure you don't have a room I could rent?"

Shaking his head, he said, "It would put a crimp in my life-style. Mermaids are a tad shy when other women are around," he said. "They're known to be rather nasty and possessive of their territory, too. Ever read Peter Pan? The mermaid didn't like Wendy. We glamorize mermaids now, but in ancient mythology they were feared because their songs lured ships onto the rocks so the mermaids could steal the gold and jewels."

"I only saw the movie years ago, but I want to practice being a mermaid." Eyeing the hot tub, Ginger said, "I need water. Do you keep it heated?"

"Always. I put solar panels on the roof. Shoots get intense and it's relaxing," he said.

Rising from her chair and moving toward the hot tub, Ginger said, "And he's green, too."

Dop caught her at the edge of the tub and pulled her against him. "Give me a minute to drop the screens on the gazebo. The neighbors can see the tub," he said.

Facing him, Ginger said, "So we give them lessons."

"Ed and Marla don't need classes, but they have four young kids who aren't ready for intimate demonstrations," he said.

By the time Dop privatized the tub, Ginger was soaking in the water with bubbles gushing around her fair-skinned curves. He dropped his shorts, visited another dolphin, and joined her. He leaned back and let the bubbles sooth his shoulders and neck. Ginger turned in the water so she was floating on her stomach chest to chest. As she kissed him, she straddled his lap and gyrated her body against his nakedness. His arms remained on the rim of the tub and he let her work herself against his intensifying cravings. She lowered herself and slowly brought them to an electrifying crescendo.

Once their emotions regained stability, Ginger said, "Sure the neighbors don't need lessons? We could teach them some things."

Dop chuckled and said, "I doubt it."

"Why? Just because they have four kids, doesn't make them experts," she said.

"In their case it does. They're pros," he said.

"Pros?" she said. "You mean pros like in porn?" Dop nodded, and she said, "Wow. Do you shoot them?"

Adamantly shaking his head, he said, "No, but they asked."

"Why not? As long as it's consenting adults, it's legal," she said.

Still shaking his head, he said, "I don't do porn. Don't even look at it. I have enough trouble keeping the cops out of my life. Like now."

"Why are they in your life now?" she asked.

"I had a photo shoot with a young woman on Sunday. She's missing, so naturally they're sniffing at my doorstep," he said.

"So, did you do her? Ginger asked.

Glaring at her, Dop said, "Whichever way you meant that; no, I didn't do her," he said. Dripping water, he left the hot tub, took a towel from the cabinet, and said, "We'll call it a night. You can go home and forget tomorrow, or use the guest room. There's a nightshirt in the closet if you want one. I'll get you up at 6:00 a.m. if you're still here. Lock the door please." Dop left a towel next to the tub and disappeared into the house.

***
Chapter 33

Wednesday, 6:00 a.m. -

Dop woke Ginger early on Wednesday morning. "Go away," she groaned, "unless you're going to make passionate love to me again."

"Up," he said, "we have work to do if you want to be a mermaid."

He took her arm to pull her out of bed, but she threw her arms around his neck. He was off balance, so he tumbled on top of her. "Much better," she said. "I'll be a better mermaid if the handsome mortal makes love to me. Hey, if mermaids can't open their legs, how do they have sex?"

"I'm not sure," Dop said. "The mermaid tube came off before I had to figure it out."

"Let's find out," Ginger said. "Get the mermaid tube."

Dop grinned at Ginger, and thought, yes; this one might be a challenge. They maneuvered her into the green tube.

"Now figure out where to put a zipper in the back seam," she said. "Hey, this could be a whole new line of clothes. We could use a hundred tiny buttons the guy has to open to get to her. What do you think?"

"You want to entice the guy, not torture him." Getting into the spirit of this challenge, Dop piled pillows on the bed like rocks and got his camera. He placed Ginger on the pillows and began giving her directions on how to pose. She was well aware of her assets, and became a natural. He never shot his mermaids in bed, and since these weren't pictures for his customers, he took liberties with the casualness of the photos. "Imagine you're enticing a mortal man to your mermaid bed," Dop said.

Ginger played the part well, as she maneuvered her body to make herself as sexy as possible. It didn't take long for Dop to succumb to her lurid poses. He put the camera aside and joined her among the pillows, minus the mermaid costume.

*

An hour later, Dop said, "We blew the professional photo shoot, so how about breakfast? I might be able to scramble an egg."

"Yea," she said, "we probably need some go power for the rest of the day." Ginger dressed in yesterday's clothes and met Dop in the kitchen, who wore his usual jeans and tank top.

***
Chapter 34

Wednesday, 8:00 a.m.-

Harley and Ross were in the office reviewing their notes from Tuesday's interviews. Harley tossed his notebook on his desk and said, "Nothing. Jennifer vanished and Doppelgänger's an angel. You get anything else out of those interviews, Ross?"

"No, I heard the same thing. Nobody saw her leave the pier and Doppelgänger was there, with other people until after 12:00 p.m. People saw him alone several times until he got home about 3:30 p.m. He said Jennifer called him about 6:00 p.m. We need her phone records since we didn't find her phone."

After rubbing his jaw a few minutes, Harley said, "Think the boyfriend could be holding out? They had a tiff."

"I don't know, he initiated the missing person report quite early and he's been cooperative," Ross said.

"Could be a ruse to make him seem innocent," Harley said.

Ross replied, "He seemed to be sleeping off a hangover during the suspected time of death. Then again, he wasn't as upset as usual. He doesn't call often, either. Jennifer's mother calls hourly. Maybe we should talk to her about Jennifer's boyfriend, Sam."

As Harley reached for the phone, it rang. "It's probably her now. Hello, Harley here...Yea, Marcus, be right there." Rising he said, "Come on Ross, Marcus has something."

Entering the computer lab, Harley said, "What did you find Marcus?"

"I've been scouring these photos from the gazebo for any scrap. On this one, there's a partial plate on a small blue car. It's Jennifer's car. The time is 11:20 a.m. I put out a BOLO yesterday and got a hit. Her car was located on the side of the road on Coast Hwy. Guess where?" Harley glared at him. "Okay, okay, no fun here. It's within two blocks of Pete's Palace. The local cops are there now waiting for you and forensics."

Racing from the lab, Harley shouted, "Good job, Marcus."

Ross muttered, "Dorcus got lucky again."

"You otta be nicer to him, Ross. Someday you may need him to save your butt," Harley said.

"Fat chance," she said.

Sirens raced from the north and south on Coast Hwy as Harley and several other black and whites got the call on Jennifer's car. As they approached Pete's, two dozen cars blocked the southbound side of the highway...what a mess. They got as close as possible and hiked the side of the road to reach the vehicle. This part of the road didn't have sidewalks, so they found the car parked halfway into some bushes. Yellow tape surrounded the area.

Harley and Ross held their badges high and pushed their way through the throng of uniforms. "Harley here, I'm the detective in charge of the investigation. This is Ross. Who's in charge of the scene?"

An officer pointed to a rotund officer in a uniform, "That's Sargent Donaldson, Sir, from the San Elijo Office."

"Hey Donaldson, we only seem to meet when there's a crime, we gotta change our social calendar," Harley said. "A girl's been missing since Sunday, and this is her car. All right if my team takes a look?"

"It's yours unless we find a body, then it's the M.E.'s," Donaldson said. "We can help cover the area. There's a lot of beaches, rocks, and cliffs along here."

"Fine," Harley said. "Anyone look inside, yet?"

"No one visible. We haven't popped the trunk, but there's no odor. The guy in the front apartment said it's been here since Monday morning when he went to work at 7:30 a.m., so it's not likely there's anyone alive. He didn't see it arrive and it wasn't there when he closed his front door Sunday night at 10:00 p.m. We tried to stay out of any crime area, not knowing what's happening."

Harley glared at the Sargent, and yelled, "Someone get the trunk open, now." He turned on Donaldson and said, "She could be in there on her last breath. The best evidence is a live witness."

An officer yelled, "It's empty, but there's dry blood, a shoe, and a purse."

Harley and Ross stood outside the taped area and Harley said, "Back out officer, in your own tracks if possible. Looks like ten thousand foot prints around the car, but we'll give the lab people a chance.

The forensic investigators were arriving by now, so they began their work. Jennifer's wallet, money, keys, and credit cards were in the purse, but her cell phone was missing. There was one red, high-heeled shoe, but no red dress.

***
Chapter 35

Wednesday, 10:00 a.m.-

Jennifer's car was located within two blocks of Pete's Palace, and Harley knew this was one of Doppelgänger's hangouts. He didn't believe in coincidences.

Pete was behind the bar, and he nodded at Harley and Ross when they entered at 10:00 a.m. "Any luck on finding the girl?" Pete asked.

"No, but her car turned up less than two blocks away," Harley said as he showed Pete the picture on his cell phone. "Have you seen it before?"

"Wow. I saw the commotion; I just got here. There's dozens of cars in and out of our lot during the day, and I rarely go outside. Did you bring a picture of the girl? Maybe she's been in here," Pete said.

"My mistake, I should have shown you Sunday, but I was tracking Doppelgänger and I didn't suspect she was here," Harley said.

Looking at the photo, Pete said, "She was here right after Dop left on Sunday. She had a burger and soda and left about 1:30 p.m., I guess. I mentioned she missed Dop, and she said she was sorry. She complemented him on the photo session. She wore khaki colored shorts and a white tank top, not the shiny red dress.

"She returned about 6:15 p.m., hung around a few minutes and left. She seemed to be waiting for someone, because she kept looking at the door and her cell phone. Willie came in about 5:00 p.m., and I left about 8:30 p.m. She was gone, as far as I know."

"Did you see her car when you left?" Harley asked.

Shaking his head, Pete said, "I work long days, so I didn't pay any attention to the cars in the lot. There were several. We can call Willie and ask him to come in."

"Jennifer was not with Doppelgänger at 6:30 p.m.?" Harley asked.

"Not that I saw, but some strange guy poked his head inside after she showed up the first time. We both thought it was Dop at first, but he was thinner and had shorter hair. He leaned into the bar, looked around as if he was searching for someone, and left. He didn't come back."

Harley said, "Did Jennifer know him?"

"No," Pete said. "She indicated she didn't know him, but like I said, at first, she also thought it was Dop."

"Was she waiting for Doppelgänger?" Harley asked.

"If she was, she didn't say so, either time," Pete said. The second time here, I had the impression she was meeting someone, but she didn't mention a name. I was checking out, so we didn't talk much."

Harley looked around, and asked, "Do you have cameras?"

Pointing to the ceiling, Pete said, "There're two inside and one outside. We don't keep the film if nothing happens. We're probably recording over Sunday right now, inside. Outside, we only record after sunset, so the film is probably still there. Willie turns off all the cameras when he leaves about 2:30 a.m."

"Turn off the tapes, right now," Harley said. Pete hurried to the camera controls and returned with three tapes.

"Here, these are yours," Pete said. "I'll put in new ones. They show times and dates periodically."

Harley looked at the door, and said, "Think it got the man at the door?"

Looking from the camera to the door, Pete said, "Should."

Harley said to Ross, "Go get the fingerprint guy and ask him to do the door. Might not help if there are hundreds of prints, but we can try."

"Thousands," said Pete, "but not everyone touches it like he did. He leaned into the room with one hand on the jam and one on the doorknob. I'll show your guy."

*

Willie arrived and Pete introduced him to Harley. "How can I help?" Willie asked.

Showing him two photos, Harley asked, "Do you know these people?"

"He's Dominik Doppelgänger, but I don't know the girl. Too bad, she's a looker," Willie said.

Harley said, "Was she in here Sunday, but dressed more casually?"

Willie studied the photo again, looked at a particular bar stool, and said, "Yea, maybe. A girl came in after I arrived, but she had a sleeveless shirt and her hair was pulled back. I was busy setting up for my shift, so I didn't talk to her. She kept looking at the door, so maybe she was expecting someone. I think she left about 6:30 p.m. She the missing girl?"

Nodding, Harley showed another picture to Willie, and said, "Was this car in the parking lot when you arrived for work Sunday?"

Shrugging, Willie said, "Dunno, I don't pay attention unless someone is blocking the exit."

"Were there any cars left in the lot when you went home Sunday night?" Harley asked.

Willie said, "One, but we don't worry about a stray car unless it's there for a day or two. People hook up and come back later."

Showing a picture of Jennifer's car to Willie, Harley asked, "This one?"

Willie said, "Could be. It was small and dark. I just glanced at it."

"Any chance you noticed cars parked on the street in the two blocks to the south, as you went home?" Harley asked.

"Man," Willie said, "It was 2:30 a.m. There's never much traffic that time of night, but I always look for some nut who thinks he's the only one on the road. Parked cars don't bother me."

"You and Pete seem familiar with Doppelgänger. How long and how well do you know him?" Harley asked.

Furrowing his brow, Willie said, "Wow, I've known him for years, and he's been a regular since we opened fifteen years ago. He did the mermaid on the back bar and helped with the remodel when we bought the Palace. I recommended him. He's a cool dude. If you think he did something to the girl, you're wrong. He looks gruff, but he's gentle as a kitten. The only thing he'd hit is a nail."

Harley asked, "So you know him outside of the bar?"

"Yea, we both ride bikes. Since I work nights, we ride together sometimes. We took a trip last year," Willie said.

Harley thought a minute, and said, "Since he's such a regular, does he drink much?"

Waving his hands, Willie said, "Don't go there, man. Dop 's not a drunk or an alcoholic like many of our customers. He screwed around when he was younger, but he turned it off a long time ago. He has a beer or two with a burger, socializes, or plays pool or darts." Pointing his thumb at the mermaid, he said, "You can't do his kind of work if you drink."

"Does he bring in women or pick them up in here?" Harley asked.

Willie backed away, and said, "I'm about done talking about Dop, if you're trying to pin something on him. He's single and it's legal to be with women. He's not in here looking, but occasionally hooks up."

"If he's with a woman, is he rough or pushy with her?" Harley said.

"That's it; I'm done with this conversation. You're not going to twist something I say to nail Dop. Unless you have a question about evidence, you can leave." Willie walked away, leaving Harley eyeing the man who seemed to come from the same pea pod as Doppelgänger.

Watching the patrons who entered for lunch, they seemed to be physical laborers from various blue-collar professions. There were a few in suits and ties. Many ordered a burger and beer, visited, and returned to work.

As Harley left Pete's, the forensic people were taking fingerprints from the door. He met Ross at Jennifer's car. "Anything new?"

Pointing at the left rear fender, Ross said, "There's a blood smear on the bumper, near the left tail light. The lab will check it for Jennifer's blood type and DNA. No blood anywhere else except the trunk."

"Any guess if the car was moved and returned?" Harley asked.

Indicating the eucalyptus trees, Ross said, "These are messy trees. There are quite a few leaves and debris on the roof, hood, and trunk. From the debris on nearby cars, it appears her car was parked here since Sunday."

"Okay," Harley said. "Let's go see Doppelgänger again."

***
Chapter 36

Wednesday, 11:00 a.m.-

When Doppelgänger's doorbell rang, he groaned, and trudged toward it. Ginger was putting the dishes in the sink, when he said, "Damn, it's the cops again. Cool it, okay?"

Opening the door, Dop said, "I hope this is good news, so I can get back to work."

Harley and Ross followed Doppelgänger into his house, and Harley said, "Yes and no. We found Jennifer's car near Pete's Palace, but no sign of her. There's blood in the trunk and on the back bumper."

Dop ran his fingers through his hair, and said, "Doesn't sound good. Any clues where she might be?"

"We hoped you might help answer that question," Harley said. "Let's review your whereabouts since Sunday morning."

With a disgusted look, Dop said, "Fine, once more. I'll go slowly so Ross doesn't miss a word." Glaring at her, he said, "Got your pen and paper ready?"

Glancing at Ginger, Ross said, "I'm ready if we're not disturbing anything."

"Just my life," he said. "We were about to do a photo shoot, so let's get on with it.

"Sunday 5:30 a.m., woke up, showered, dressed, ate a bite, and left to meet Jennifer. Got it?" Ross glared, and nodded.

"Good," he said. "7:00 a.m., met Jennifer. Photographed her until 11:00 a.m. 11:00 a.m. until after noon, I shot photos along the boardwalk. Didn't you talk to any of those people on the list?"

Not looking up, Ross said, "I need to verify the times."

"Fine," he said. "I stopped at Pete's about 12:30 p.m. to get a burger and a beer. I left at 1:30 p.m. Stopped at Moon Beach a few minutes and got to the little swap meet about 2:00 p.m. I stayed there a while and got home about 3:30 p.m. Sonja called a little later, and my neighbor saw me about 5:00 p.m. Jennifer called me about 6:00 p.m. to thank me for the photo shoot. Talked to my friend, Tommy, about 8:30 p.m. and went to bed at 10:00 p.m. Alone. My first biggest mistake. I was on the computer from 5:00 p.m. to nearly 10:00 p.m.; check the history.

"Monday morning I met Tommy for breakfast about 7:00 a.m. and spent three lovely hours with Harley, you, or Marcus between 1:00 p.m. and 4:00 p.m. My computer will verify I logged on with my password after breakfast; same thing after Ross left me alone in my house."

Dop took a step toward Ross, and said, "At 7:00 p.m. you tailed me to the Gut Buster. We spent the next three hours together, unless you forgot. Are you a reliable witness?" After her eyes snapped to his and back to her paper, he continued, "I went to bed about midnight...alone. My second biggest mistake. Last night I wasn't alone."

"Tuesday morning you and Harley intruded on me at 8:30 a.m.; after which, I went to Pete's and met Ginger about 11:30 a.m. She's been with me since then," Dop said. "Only the sand man can verify where I was when I was sleeping. I'm sorry Jennifer's missing, but I didn't hurt her."

Standing her ground, and struggling to maintain her composure, Ross said, "Thank you, Mr. Doppelgänger. Anything else, Detective Harley?"

"Yea, I'd like to meet the young lady in the kitchen," he said.

Ginger moved near Doppelgänger, and said, "I'm Ginger."

Harley asked, "You have a last name?"

"Ginger Brown," she said.

Harley said, "What can you tell us Ginger Brown?"

"I met Dop at Pete's a while before noon, yesterday." Wiggling her shirtfront, she said, "We were together doing various activities all day until about 10:00 p.m. when we went to bed." Sensing uncomfortable vibes emanating from Ross, Ginger added, "Separately. Two different rooms, separately."

"So you can't be sure Doppelgänger didn't leave during the night," Harley said.

Pointing to the room she used, Ginger said, "The window faces the driveway and I had it open. I didn't hear his bike and I'm parked behind his truck."

"He could have rolled the bike down the hill before he started it," Harley said.

Eyeing Harley, Ginger said, "Yea he could, but he didn't roll it back up. He's a big guy, but not that big. How much does your bike weigh, Dop?"

Dop said, "Over 700 pounds from the factory, plus my gear bags, and gas. I couldn't push it up that hill if I had to. It's hard driving up the hill from a standing stop at the bottom. Go talk to the guys at the bike shop."

Harley returned his gaze to Ginger, and asked, "How long have you known Doppelgänger?"

Looking at the clock, she said, "About 24 hours."

Harley raised his eyebrows and Ross stiffened, which Ginger didn't miss. "Give me your address and phone number, please," Harley said.

Smiling, Ginger said, "The Super 6 Motel about five miles north of here. Room 101. I use a disposable phone, so the number changes periodically, but today it's 555-656-9999. I'm passing through, so before you ask, I'm from Las Vegas. I have no plans to return home soon. No permanent job, but I can usually get a bartender job when I need some bucks." Ginger caught Doppelgänger trying to stifle a laugh, after watching Harley's disgusted expression. She said, "You got a problem with free spirits, Detective?"

Shaking his head, Harley said, "To each his own, but it makes my job tougher when witnesses fly with the wind. Try to hang around a couple of weeks, okay?"

"Is it an order, Sir?" she asked.

Sternly, Harley said, "Yea, it's an order, Miss Brown. Would it help anchor you if I check for warrants?"

Dop grabbed her hand before she could give him the finger.

Raising an eyebrow, Harley turned to Doppelgänger, and said, "We'll email a copy of the timeline to you. Please let us know of any revisions. We're anxious to find Jennifer. Can we reach you on your cell phone if we have further questions?"

Staring at Ross, Dop said, "If you have any more questions, we can meet in my attorney's office...at his convenience.

*

Outside, Harley said to Ross, "Two birds of a feather. How's your heart doing now? Get her license plate number."

Ross entered the car without a word after she jotted the number.

*

At the first stop light, Harley's phone rang. A minute later, he said, "They found a red dress by the lagoon." He hit the lights and siren, and said, "Ross, I'll drop you at the car; you stay with it until they're done, then come to the lagoon."

*

After the detectives left, Dop said to Ginger, "Your attitude didn't help me much, but thanks for trying."

Screw the cops," Ginger said, "and what's with the girl cop? She got the hots for you?"

Shrugging, he said, "Beats me. I only met her Monday and she thinks I'm a killer. Not as in hunk. Sorry, but I'm not in the mood for mermaids at the moment, so let's call it a day."

Ginger stared after him as he walked away. She scribbled her phone number on an envelope and said, "In case you're interested."

A few minutes later, Dop watched her little red car zoom down the hill past his house. "Damn that cop," he said to no one.

***
Chapter 37

Harley and a slew of police cars sped north to the lagoon. There was a large congregation of people, so that's where they all headed.

A long red dress lay among the rocks, covered with sand and seaweed. The forensic photographer began snapping pictures and yellow tape surrounded the area. Harley called Ross to tell her it was probably Jennifer's dress.

Donaldson arrived, and approaching Harley, he said, "You've seen more pictures of the dress than I have. Is that it?"

"Probably," Harley said. "Until we can pick it up and look at it, I can't be sure, but how many long, shiny red dresses do you find on the beach two days after a girl wearing one disappeared? It's been here through at least one tide. Maybe it was thrown over the cliffs or thrown onto the beach. Let's get an oceanographer here to tell us where it came from. Do we have dogs looking for her yet?"

"Yes," Donaldson said, "but the handlers say with so much debris, rotting vegetation, and animal life, they are limited with what they can do. They would need to get fairly close to find her."

Looking up and down the beach, Harley said, "My guess is the rocks. If she's on the sandy beach, someone would've found her by now. Are they concentrating in the rocks? Are birds in the air looking?"

Nodding, Donaldson said, "Yes, but it would be easier if she was still wearing the red dress. Those sandstone rocks are about the same color as skin and khaki shorts. We sent twenty officers to the beach and a slew of surfers are looking for her."

"God," Harley said, rubbing his forehead, "It will be like looking for evidence after a marathon race has gone through the crime scene. Get the surfers out of there. This isn't a scavenger hunt. Hopefully your officers know how to set the boundaries of a crime scene and stay away." Harley turned away before Donaldson could comment.

A second later, a young surfer ran toward them waving a red object, "I found a red shoe, I found a red shoe," he said. Harley glared at Donaldson and walked toward the surfer.

Calling to the youth, Harley said, "Where did you find the shoe, son?"

Breathless, he pointed south, toward the rocks, and said proudly, "Under a rock about two hundred yards from the dress."

Harley sealed the shoe in a baggie, put his on hand on the youth's shoulder, and said, "Did anyone tell you guys not to touch anything you find?"

The boy's eyes grew in horror as he said, "Oh my God, I watch all the cop shows. I should know better. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, but I can show you where I found it." He turned to run, but Harley said, "Hold it, son. We don't want to trample the area, do we?"

The boy gasped, and said, "I'm sorry. I'll walk slowly, so you can keep up, and I'll point when we get there."

Patting him on the back, Harley said, "Thanks, good idea." By the time they reached the shoe site, a parade of forensic officers were with them. Yellow tape soon surrounded a dozen rocks. The boy identified his footprints and Harley allowed him to replace the shoe as he found it. Flashbulbs filled the air and the boy beamed.

Harley's phone rang. "Harley...got it, I see you."

Ross answered her phone, and Harley said, "They found the girl. Get down here and bring everyone possible from our team. They can tow the car and finish in the lab."

***
Chapter 38

Many coastal towns in Southern California rest on ancient sand dunes right to the ocean's edge. The key word is sand, not rock. Some sea cliffs are one hundred feet high, or more, and they are open to the elements of nature. Wind and water erode the cliffs a few inches a year or many feet if the weather is violent. Ocean waves eat away at the base of the cliffs and eventually they collapse. The falling earth may create one large sand pile, or come down in large clods of dirt the size of a washing machine or a small sedan.

The cliffs where they found Jennifer's body had large, light brown, sandstone chunks at the base of the cliff.

To help stabilize the cliff edge, people plant a succulent ground cover, called ice plant. It blooms with yellow, light pink, to deep magenta flowers throughout the spring and summer.

It's a ground vine with "leaves" the shape, color, and consistency of an inch long, soft-skinned cucumber, without seeds. Its circumference is about the size of the end of a small woman's little finger. If watered properly it remains crisp, so it will snap under a large person's weight, rather than being crushed, like snapping the advertised pickle.

***
Chapter 39

Wednesday, 1:30 p.m.-

By the time, Harley and Donaldson arrived at the body; yellow tape surrounded an area of the beach the size of a small house. Harley told Donaldson, "Assuming a resident did not do the deed, can your people warden off public access to the cliffs?" Donaldson nodded, and Harley said, "My people and forensics will work the ground on the beach and up above on the cliff. Let your people control the onlookers and glean information from anyone who lives in the area and from the surfers on the beach."

"Agreed," said Donaldson. "We'll coordinate activities from Pete's parking lot for the rest of the day. Any of your people, except those at the car, I'll send to the lagoon parking lot. Who's in charge there?"

"Ross will coordinate the beach activities for now," Harley said. "See you later, Donaldson. We'll meet to go over our notes and evidence." Donaldson left to manage his people and Harley turned to the taped area, and asked the forensics supervisor, Martin Aster, "Has any one checked to see if she's dead?"

Giving Harley an exasperated look, Aster said, "Of course I did. Looks like she's been here a day or two, but the M.E., Dr. Warren is on his way. I doubt she's been in the water, but there may have been some slight wave action nearby. At this time of the lunar cycle, she's too high on the beach for high tide to wash her that far into the rocks. By the dry sand, you can see where the last high tide was. She would have been caught by the rocks closer to the water. It's likely someone threw her over the cliff. Whoever is working up there should concentrate straight above."

"Thanks Aster, I'll call Donaldson," Harley said, as he accessed the sheriff's name on his cell phone. After a short call, he joined Aster at the body.

Resembling a discarded ragdoll, Jennifer was wedged between large rocks. She was face up, bent backwards, with her head thrown back and to the side. Her long red hair wafted in the ocean breeze. Her arms draped over the rocks, obviously broken. Her legs bent at unnatural angles. Strangest, there was no blood. She was wearing the shorts and top, which Pete described. The shirt was tucked into her shorts and she wore both shoes and socks. The clothes were torn.

"She was a beauty. Any guess on cause of death?" Harley asked.

Aster shook his head. "Again, assuming she went over the cliff; I doubt she was alive, because there's no blood pool. The cliff is about a hundred feet high, so no one would survive the fall or push...or toss. I think we can assume murder, since it's unlikely she would walk several blocks from Pete's to this cliff, in the middle of the night, and jump or fall. A person in their sane, sober mind would never go to as high a cliff, in the middle of the night, with anyone she didn't trust, if she was alive."

"She seemed sober, but agitated, at 6:30 p.m., according to Pete," Harley said. "Sometime between 6:30 p.m. Sunday, and 7:30 a.m. Monday, when the neighbor saw her car near Pete's, she died. Dr. Warren will determine the time and cause of death. Here he comes now."

Dr. Warren examined the body for several minutes and approached Harley. "From animal activity on the body, I'd say she has been dead at least two days. At this point, my guess is she went over the cliff and landed on the rocks. Can't say now if she was dead or alive, but there was no blood or bruising. She has very few bones in one piece. You might check the rocks for ricochet, blood, skin, hair, shreds of clothing. I'll tell you later if the abrasions were from the rocks or abuse. She may have landed in her current position in a straight-line drop, from the edge up there. From her position, my guess is she didn't jump, and wasn't pushed. She may have been dropped or rolled over the edge. Do some measurements. Drop a plumb line from the edge, measure from the line to the first ricochet, and adjusting for her weight you should have a good idea."

"Thanks, Doc. Let me know when you finish your report. We found three possible suspects." Looking toward the top of the cliff, Harley said, "I'd better go upstairs."

*

Donaldson was leading the search at the top of the cliff.

Harley said, "Doc said to drop a line to the first site of impact and concentrate in the surrounding area. He suspects she didn't fall naturally and there's no blood. Any witnesses or clues?"

Pointing to the ice plant, Donaldson said, "There're signs of encroachment over there, but no clear footprints. The few day-timers we found didn't see anyone around the cliffs since Sunday afternoon. Apparently, it's pretty quiet along here on weekdays, except for local joggers and walkers who don't dally. So far, the neighbors didn't see or hear anything at night. Whatever happened was fast and quiet."

"Any signs of a struggle or blood?" Harley asked.

Shaking his head, Donaldson said, "No."

"So this was just the dump site," Harley said. "Keep working. Now for the hardest part."

"What's that?" Donaldson asked.

"Ross and I have to tell the mother and boyfriend she's dead," Harley said.

***
Chapter 40

Wednesday, 5:00 p.m.-

Mrs. Anisteadt, Jennifer's mother, collapsed against the door when she saw Harley and Ross. "No, no, I don't want to see you. Is Jennifer dead?"

Harley caught her and pulled her into his arms, saying, "I'm sorry. We found her body a little earlier, Mrs. Anisteadt. Let's go sit down. Ross will get you some water. We called Bruce Hancock, and he's on his way."

When she could finally speak, she said, "Thank you. What happened to her?"

"We found her on the beach. We don't know how she died yet. Dr. Warren will do an autopsy as soon as possible," Harley said.

"Was she murdered?" Mrs. Anisteadt asked.

Harley hated to admit a murder without conformation, but said, "Yes, we think so. It's possible she fell from the cliffs, but not likely."

"No, she didn't fall. She was terrified of heights," Mrs. Anisteadt said. "She would never go near high places. She wouldn't walk on the sea wall on the boardwalk, for fear of falling only three feet. Once her Daddy had to blindfold her and carry her down some stairs, she was so afraid of them. Her apartment is on the second floor, but they have an elevator. If there was a fire, she would burn up before she would go down the stairs." She broke into sobs.

Harley leaned forward, and said, "Is there someone we can call to be with you until Hancock arrives? A neighbor maybe?"

"Go next door to Letty's house. She'll come over and help me call people." Harley motioned for Ross to go, and then asked, "Do you feel up to talking about Jennifer? The sooner we find answers, the sooner we can solve this."

Mrs. Anisteadt sat up straight and took a deep breath. "I was prepared for this when I didn't hear from Jen for three days. Ask what you need to know. I can cry later."

Slowly, Harley said, "Do you know of anyone who would harm Jennifer?"

"No, everyone liked Jen," she said.

"Did she talk about problems at work?" he asked.

"No, she loved working at the day care. She loves...loved children. I hoped for a grandchild. Jen was my only baby. Her Daddy and I divorced before I had another one."

"Mrs. Anisteadt, tell me about Sam," Harley said.

"Oh, Sam is such a nice boy. He and Jen have known each other since high school. They moved in together last year. They want to be married. He always calls me Mrs. Anisteadt."

"Do you ever hear them fight?" he asked.

"Well sure, but just little spats. Sam likes things neat and clean, but Jen isn't so particular," she said.

Harley asked, "They never fought about anything else?" She shook her head. "Did Sam have a problem with her modeling? Being alone with another man?"

Frowning, she said, "Well, once I heard him be a little pushy about how long she spent with some photographer. He didn't say anymore when she said how much money she made."

"Was money an issue?" he asked.

"Sure," she said, "they were kids, but they didn't go hungry. They had TV and various electronic gadgets. Other than toys, they were rather frugal."

"Did Jennifer own anything of value Sam might want?" he asked.

"No," she said. "I don't have anything valuable except two rings left from my mother. Oh God, who will get them now? Sam knew about them, and I wanted Jennifer to wear them for her wedding rings, but they're in my safe deposit box." She broke into tears.

After recovering, Mrs. Anisteadt asked, "When can I see Jennifer?"

Lowering his head, Harley said, "We can identify her without a visual."

"I want to see her, Detective," she said.

Mrs. Anisteadt," he said, "As a police officer who has seen many damaged bodies, I strongly recommend you forgo the identification process."

Adamantly she said, "Detective Harley, Jennifer is my only child, my baby. She can't go into the ground without her mother saying goodbye."

Harley said, "I'll discuss it with the medical examiner. We'll talk later, but call immediately if you think of anything else."

Ross returned with the neighbor, and she led Jennifer's mother into the kitchen, saying, "Oh, my poor, poor dear. Come sit down and I'll make you some tea."

Harley placed his card on the coffee table, and then he left with Ross. In the car, Harley asked Ross, "Do you think Sam's as great as she thinks?"

"I don't know," she said. "I feel like Sam might be hiding something. For sure, I've never seen a man, or most women, as clean as he is. Maybe some of the neighbors are home."

***
Chapter 41

Wednesday, 7:00 p.m.-

Sam opened the door to see the somber faces of Harley and Ross. He tried to shut the door, saying, "Go away. I don't want to know."

Harley put his foot in the door and pushed his way in. "Sam, I know you don't want to hear it, but we found Jennifer's body. She was in the rocks below the cliffs near Pete's Palace. We found her car near there also." Sam turned from Harley and his shoulders shook as he cried. Harley put a hand on his shoulder and led him to a chair.

Sobbing into his hands, Sam said, "I loved her. We wanted to get married next year. We battled sometimes, but we were in love. She was my best friend."

"Do you want to call someone?" Harley asked.

"Not yet," Sam said. "I want to be alone for a while. She's been missing so long, I expected this, but it's still a shock."

"Sam," Harley said, "Jennifer is dead, presumed not natural, we need to go through her personal things. We need to talk to the neighbors. Ross can go through the house, so a woman is handling her private items. She'll need to take anything, which might help us in our investigation, and she'll ask more questions. We need you to hang with us to get this done. Okay, Sam?"

Nodding, Sam said, "Yea, I understand. Take what you need. I can do it for Jen."

Harley left to talk to the neighbors, leaving Ross with Sam.

"Let's begin in the kitchen, Sam, it's less personal." He frowned and nodded, but remained seated, watching Ross look in cupboards.

Ross put Jen's cup and bowl in her bag, and Sam jumped up and said, "Why are you taking those? Those are Jen's."

Ross cocked her head, and said, "Sam, we need to know Jennifer as well as you do. Personal items tell a story words cannot." He nodded and returned to the chair. Ross asked, "Who cooked?"

"We both did," he said. "I liked to BBQ, but Jen did the usual things: spaghetti, casseroles, fried chicken. Her Mom taught her to cook so dinner would be ready when she got home from work. She made wicked meatloaf. We called it faux-steak, because we couldn't afford real steak very often."

Ross smiled, and said, "I'm taking some cooking things, okay?" Sam nodded.

"Follow me to the bathroom, Sam." Ross noted it was spotless. You could eat off the bathroom floor. She took bottles of prescriptions and over the counter drugs. "Why did Jennifer take these drugs?"

"She had a virus last month," he said. "I'm not sure she took the whole bottle. She had headaches and sore muscles from dealing with the kids at the child care where she works...worked." Ross bagged her toiletries, hairbrush, and toothbrush, too.

In the bedroom, Ross took all the dirty clothes, sheets, and towels from the basket, with Sam's permission. He gave Jennifer's favorite clothes to Ross. The torn shirt was folded on the floor of her closet and Ross asked, "Remind me about this shirt."

"We were chasing around the house, I grabbed it, and it tore," Sam said. Ross dropped it in the bag.

"Sam, when did you and Jennifer last have sex, and do you use a condom?"

He looked a little shocked, but said, "Uh, Thursday. I went out with the guys Friday, went to sleep Saturday night, and she left early Sunday. She's on the pill, so I don't use a condom. Since we want kids someday, it wouldn't be horrible if she got pregnant. You don't think she was raped, do you?"

"We don't know anything yet. It's information to speed the investigation, if we need it," Ross said.

Thinking back, Ross said, "When did you change the sheets?"

"Last night, they smelled like Jen and it upset me, because I didn't think she was coming home after three days," he said. "Usually I could only change the sheets and towels once a week. She said it cost too much for laundry, so I had to choose between beer and clean."

Watching Sam closely, Ross wondered if he thought she wouldn't return after three days, or knew Jennifer wouldn't return. She looked under the bed and noted there were no dust bunnies, so she asked, "When did you vacuum last?"

Looking guilty, he said, "I vacuum two or three times a week. It was one of the things we fought about. She'd cover her ears and scream, 'Not again, Sam,' and lock herself in the bathroom until I was done. I vacuumed Monday and Tuesday after work, because I didn't know what to do without Jen here."

"Under the bed?" Ross asked.

"Always," he said. "She called me Mr. Clean Jeans."

"If you were so tidy, why did you leave the torn shirt on the floor of the closet? Her closet is immaculate."

Blinking away tears, Sam said, "We fought about it, too. It was her favorite shirt. When I tore it, she threw it on the floor. I said I was sorry and I would buy another one. I tried to pick it up, but she screamed at me to leave it alone. I didn't touch it, because she would be mad when she came home."

Ross said, "But it was folded neatly. Who did that?"

Grinning, he said, "I did. At least it was neat trash. She'd yell at me for touching it at all. It had become a symbol of my overzealous cleaning. It was her little bit of disorder and punishment for me for tearing it."

Maybe he did believe she would be home, Ross thought.

***
Chapter 42

Sam and Jennifer lived in apartment 2-C. There were four apartments on each side of the hall. The lady they interviewed Monday was in 2-F.

A single man, age 26, lived in 2-B. He said they fought often. They had screaming matches where they ran in and out of the bedroom. Their bedrooms were back to back. He said, some evenings he couldn't tell if they made noisy love or if he was abusing her. No, he never called the police, because it was kind of a turn on imagining what they were doing.

A couple in their thirties lived in 2-D. They said they turned up the TV to drown out their fights because they were moving soon. The fights seemed to be about how messy Jennifer was with her clothes and dishes. They never had any indication Sam hit her.

The man below, in 1-C, was hard of hearing so they didn't bother him often.

The other tenants in the building didn't hear them fight, but once when the elevator broke, Sam carried Jennifer, screaming, down the stairs. She ran out of the building yelling, "I can't live here anymore. I hate stairs."

*

Harley returned to Sam's apartment after talking to the neighbors, and said to Sam, "The neighbors said you and Jennifer were a little noisy from time to time, Sam. What went on here?"

"God," he said. "They're mostly old people who don't understand two kids having fun. A couple of times we played tag and they thought we were fighting. Jen could get a little noisy during sex, too. Do you think I hurt her?"

"I need to clarify discrepancies, Sam," Harley said. "Speaking of discrepancies, Jennifer was at Pete's between 6:00 and 6:30 p.m. Sunday evening and she seemed to be expecting someone. Was she expecting you, Sam?"

"No, I was zoned out on the couch," he said.

"Did you talk to her?" Harley asked, but Sam shook his head. "Any idea who it might be? Did she meet men in bars at night?"

Sam turned red, and said, "Absolutely not, unless it was the photographer. She was not that kind of girl. She always came home."

"Hmm," Harley said, "Every night except Sunday and Doppelgänger was at home."

Sam glared at him, and then said, "You'd better leave. I don't like people saying bad things about Jennifer. We loved each other."

"Anything else, Ross?" Harley asked.

She shook her head, so they left.

In the car, Harley said, "Sam knew she hated heights. A neighbor saw Sam carrying her down the stairs when the elevator broke. There would be signs of a struggle, if she were alive on the cliff. Why would she go there? Let's go back to Pete's and see if they found anything new."

*

They located the officer in charge, and Harley asked, "What do you have for me?"

Leading them toward the yellow tape in Pete's parking lot, the officer pointed and said, "We found possible blood in the gravel and a tan button nearby. We're waiting for forensics to get here. They're still tied up at the car and the beach."

Raising his eyebrows, Harley said, "This may be the murder site. Measure the length of Jennifer's car and mark where the bumper might be if it was parked here, but don't trample the site. Not that it would matter after cars drove in and out for two days. Any witnesses?"

"One man noticed the car." Pointing to an apartment building, the officer said, "His name's Drake. He lives in number 102."

"Thanks," Harley said. "I'll get Ross to talk to him. Do the car measurement while I check around." The officer nodded and turned away.

*

Ross identified herself at #102, and said, "I was told you saw the blue car parked on the street. What can you tell me?"

Drake said, "I came home about 10:00 p.m. Sunday night and didn't notice it. It was dark, so I'm not sure if it was there, but Monday morning when I pulled out for work, the sun glinted off the windshield. I'm not sure it was the same car, but when I came home from work about 6:30 p.m., the blue car was parked where it is now. It's so near the driveway, I had to avoid it. Because of the divided highway, I leave going south, and come in from the north."

"Did you see anyone near the car?" Ross asked.

"No, it was just a car parked on the street. It's not unusual, since there's no extra parking for the apartments. Visitors park wherever they can."

Ross asked, "Was the car gone any time you entered or left?"

"No," Drake said, "but I can't speak for the daytime while I'm at work. I forgot to tell the officer. Mrs. Gifford, in #106, was gone earlier when the police came around, but she's home now. She complained about having to walk in the street with her dog."

"Thanks," Ross said.

A small dog barked when Ross rang the bell of apartment #106, and shortly Mrs. Gifford led her inside, and said, "How can I help you, Dearie?"

Ross said, "Mr. Drake said you complained to him, because you had to walk in the street. Why was it necessary?"

Pointing toward the street, Mrs. Gifford said, "Someone parked a little blue car in the middle of the path where I walk my dog. People are so inconsiderate."

"When do you walk your dog, and when did you first see the car?" Ross asked.

"I walk Princess each morning, noon, and evening. The car was not there at 6:00 p.m. Sunday, but it was there at 9:00 a.m. Monday morning and it's been there since," she said.

"It was there Monday noon and Tuesday noon?" Ross asked.

Nodding the lady said, "Yes indeedy, right in the middle of the path. It didn't move one inch. Funny though, Princess sniffed it Monday and was quite upset, but she ignored it Tuesday."

"Mrs. Gifford, did you ever see anyone near the car?" Ross asked.

"No Dearie. They just left it," she said. "I was about to call the cops. Will you get rid of it, please?"

Smiling, Ross said, "Yes, Mrs. Gifford. It will be gone soon. Thank you for your time."

*

Back at Pete's, Ross told Harley about someone parking Jennifer's car on the street sometime Sunday night after 10:00 p.m., and it seemed it remained there.

Harley said, "Good job, Ross. It's after 9:00 p.m. and it's dark. We can't do more here tonight. We'll go home and give the lab and Dr. Warren a chance to get some preliminaries. I'll meet you in the office at 7:00 a.m. when we can begin fresh."

***
Chapter 43

Wednesday, afternoon and evening-

After Harley, Ross, and Ginger left his house, Doppelgänger paced his living room until his legs ached. He called his brother-in-law, Stephen Larson, who was his attorney. Stephen said to meet at his house for dinner at 7:00 p.m. In the meantime, Stephen would try to find out about the investigation.

Dop was scared. Harley was out for his hide. Why hadn't he met Ginger two days earlier so she could give him an alibi? Or, better yet, why hadn't Ross... Forget her, she's a cop who may put you in jail, he thought. He couldn't concentrate, so he didn't dare go to the studio to work on the dolphin. He turned on the computer, but shut it down in fifteen minutes. His sister and Stephen lived in San Luis, so he had six hours to kill...or survive. If he went south, he'd be trapped in commuter traffic coming back later, so he went north on his trusty bike.

Dop's usual hangout was Pete's Palace, but as he neared it, on the other side of the road, the cops were covering the street like ants. Nearby, they located Jennifer's car, so forget that idea, but it bothered him that they were all over Pete's parking lot. When he came to the lagoon, there were more cops. He had a horrible feeling it had something to do with Jennifer, too. Earlier, they'd questioned him again after they found her car. In a heart-clutching panic, he sped past the scene.

He wasn't sure how he got there, but he pulled into Sonja's driveway. She hauled him inside the minute she saw him. He told her what happened today, so far. She was working on a woman's hair, so he went to the patio with a beer. Today he wished he smoked. He called Stephen's office, but he was on the phone. At 2:00 p.m., Stephen called back to tell Dop they found Jennifer's body on the beach, south of the lagoon. There were no details yet. Stephen had to be in court, so he told Dop to stay at Sonja's until he called.

Sonja joined Dop on the patio with two iced teas, and said, "It's all over TV. Maybe you should switch to tea, so you're stone sober if you need to answer more questions."

"I can't watch; what are they saying?" he asked.

Frowning, Sonja said, "You know they found Jennifer's car this morning. They found a red dress in the mouth of the lagoon. Her body was sprawled among the rocks, below the San Elijo cliffs not too far from Pete's. She fell, or she was tossed; they don't know which yet. It's suspected she's been there two or more days."

Dop wandered to the edge of the patio. Sonja joined him and wrapped her arms around him. "What do I do, Sonja? They think I did it, but I didn't touch that girl. I never saw her after I left the pier. I can account for much of my day, but after 8:30 p.m., I didn't even talk to anyone."

She said, "Next time I make an offer to take care of you, don't turn me down, okay? You'd have been with me all day and night."

He hugged her, and said, "My friends are right to call me Dumb Ganger. If I spent Sunday with you like you suggested, I'd have an alibi. Next time don't let me forget my stupidity...if I get a chance. I'm scared, Sonja. I'm scared shitless. Sunday I was carefree and happy. Today I might be fighting for my life."

"Cool it Baby," she said. "Stephen will take care of it. If not, I've had enough experience keeping my stupid kid out of jail, I'll fix it."

He clung to Sonja, wishing he hadn't been so pigheaded about being independent. An hour later, Stephen called to tell Dop to stay at Sonja's house.

"I'll be there within an hour," Stephen said. "The reporters are all over the courthouse and sheriff's station. They don't know your name, but they know Jennifer was with a photographer. They don't know I'm your attorney yet, either. While you're waiting, write down every detail, every minute of your life since Sunday morning, no matter how graphic."

Laughing, Dop said, "You'll have a better attitude toward me when you see how dull my life is, except for Ginger."

"Who's Ginger?" Stephen asked.

"A partial alibi, I hope. The cops already know about her," Dop said.

"Fine," Stephen said. "Stay put and get to work until I get there. Tell Sonja we'll need food. She makes the best spaghetti in the universe."

After Dop closed his cellphone, Sonja asked, "Who's Ginger?"

Trying to play down the obvious, Dop said, "A lady I met at Pete's."

"And took home, like a stray puppy," she said.

Avoiding her glare, he said, "Yea."

Rolling her eyes, Sonja said, "God Dop, you can't keep it in a cage, can you?"

"In this case, it's good, because she can vouch for twenty-four hours of the past three days, if she's still around. She was passing through," he said.

Stiffly, Sonja turned away and smashed out her cigarette. She said, "But you couldn't give me one or two on Sunday, and then you turn up on my doorstep for help. You'd better call her and make sure she's still around."

Dop took Sonja's arm, looked into her eyes, and said, "You know you're more than a life boat to me, don't you? Maybe we don't have an ongoing relationship, but you're the reason no other woman does either."

She tried to pull away, but he held tight, so she said, "I don't need a line to be your friend, Dop."

Still holding her arm, he said, "No line, and you know it. We've been friends since we were kids. Sometimes more. We've both been too boneheaded to accept permanence. Thank you for being the person I could turn to when I desperately needed a friend."

Sonja flung her arms around his neck, smiled, and said, "Likewise, Dop. I owe you more than I can say. Thanks back to you." She kissed his cheek and asked, "How can I help?"

"I need your computer so I can list my activities since Sunday morning, and Stephen said we'll need food. He mentioned the best spaghetti in the universe," Dop said.

Hitting his shoulder, she said, "Once again I say, all you men think about is your stomach and your dick."

"Yea," he said, "and our freedom to feed both as we choose."

She rolled her eyes as she led him into the house and opened her computer. She vanished into the kitchen and began making beautiful cooking sounds and smells.

*

Stephen arrived an hour later and greeted Sonja and Dop. He said, "Is there somewhere Dop and I can talk in private, Sonja?"

"Sure," she said. "Close the door on my office, or spread out on the dining table if it helps. I need to go to the store for an hour, or so. Stir the sauce occasionally, please. I'll set the timer." She took Stephen's face in her hands and said, "We both know Dop didn't hurt that girl. Fix it, Stephen. We can't live without Dop in our lives." She hugged both men, took her purse, and left the house.

After Sonja departed, Stephen said, "Let's see what you've done with your life for the past four days."

As Dop handed the printout to Stephen, he asked, "Aren't you going to ask if I hurt Jennifer?"

"No, Sonja said it all. Now, please make another printout, triple spaced, so I can make notes," Stephen said.

Extending his hand, as they shook, Dop said, "Thanks. It means a lot."

An hour later, after adding some details to Dop's timeline, Stephen said, "Your life is much tamer than I imagined, except for Ginger. Is this normal?"

"Yea, minus the police and Ginger. Beautiful redheads don't fall into my life regularly. Nor do friends like Sonja."

"You burst my bubble," Stephen said. "With all your mermaid models, I expected you had a parade outside your front door."

"I'll say it a thousand times," Dop said, "except for Sonja, I don't have relations with my models. They go home untouched, in any way. It's another reason I use a headset for direction; I can keep my distance and keep it impersonal. When they expect more than a paycheck, you lose control and you lose natural."

Dop said, "From what I can tell about your relationship with Megan, you should be enjoying the fruits of marriage, more than I am bachelorhood. If not, you'd better find out why not."

Stephen said, "I love your sister more than I ever imagined I could, but occasionally when I looked at you, I wondered if I would rather be free. I promise you, I will never wonder again. And don't you ever tell Megan."

Looking down and back, Stephen said, "As your attorney, I need to ask, Dop. Do you ever do porn or minors?"

"No," Dop said.

"Never? If this problem comes to trial, you're dead if the prosecution presents porn, and especially kiddy porn," Stephen said.

"No, and no," Dop said. "You've seen Sonja's photos. They're seductive, but not porn. If they say a photo is mine, they'd need to prove it came from my camera. The digital camera records the Metadata on each photograph. It's an identifier, so I can prove it's mine or not. My originals are securely backed up and encrypted, so I can prove one was altered. I envisioned protecting myself against copy write infringement, but not... murder. The police downloaded my files Monday, remember?"

"Yes," Stephen said, "but they may get a warrant now for your whole computer, so after dinner, you'll buy a new laptop and we'll let my computer guy load your programs and data onto the new blank one. We'll keep it at my office. I expect you'll be too busy to use it, at least for the next few days unless they find the real murderer. If they take your camera, let them. You can get a new one."

Rubbing his face, Dop said, "This is going to turn my life upside down, isn't it? It will only enforce my hatred of legal authority."

"Dop," Stephen said, "you may love it before we're through. You're innocent until you're proven guilty beyond reasonable doubt. They have nothing but a four hour photo shoot, and Jennifer was seen alive hours later."

"Yea, at my favorite hangout, waiting for someone after she called me," Dop said.

"And two hours later, we can trace a call to the land line at your house, which ran ten minutes," Stephen said. "Two hours is not much time to get from your house, to Pete's and back, and have enough time to murder Jennifer and dump her over the cliff. Can they find a motive for you to kill her?"

"No," Dop said, "I barely knew her. I never saw her before 7:00 a.m. Sunday morning. My photos can vouch for all but a few stray minutes. She was at Pete's twice after I left her. I forgot something. Before bed, I took some clean towels to the cabinet by the hot tub. It was dark and Alicia, the little girl next door waved to me from her window. She's the reason I use a screen around the tub."

"Good," Stephen said, "but why would she remember it was Sunday night? Children are not good witnesses."

After a minute, Dop said, "Talk to her tomorrow and ask what she watched on TV before bedtime. She pointed to something toward the beach. I remember; it was a police chopper with searchlights on the beach. There should be a record of the flight plan."

"Good, now you only need to fill in nine hours," Stephen said.

Dop slumped in his chair, and said, "So the sandman doesn't count?"

"The sandman?" Stephen asked.

"Yea," Dop said. "I gave Ross the sandman as an alibi for Sunday and Monday night."

"Ross? The detective? The one from Monday night at your studio?" Stephen asked.

Looking away, Dop said, "Yea."

Studying Dop, Stephen said, "From the look on your face, I'd say you should never be alone with her again, and I want to be present if she's in the room, got it? If Harley sees what I see, he'll use it against you... somehow."

Dominik rubbed his hands together, picked at a fingernail, and finally said, "Got it."

Stephen said, "If you want to get out of this, you'd better."

At the computer store, Dop quickly selected a new laptop and they took it and his old hard drive to Stephen's computer expert. He downloaded Dop's old files to the new computer. Stephen took the new computer and told Dop to go home and get some sleep.

Dop left Stephen about 10:00 p.m., but didn't sleep. He called friends to meet him in the morning for a special photo shoot.

***
Chapter 44

Thursday, 7:00 a.m.-

At dawn, Doppelgänger and his armada of friends met at the San Elijo cliffs to photograph any evidence they could find. The police wouldn't be good enough to think like a man fighting for his life and freedom. They set up a video camera to show what they were doing, so the police wouldn't accuse him of manipulating evidence.

At the crime scene, Dop stood on the roof of a car, and using a telephoto lens, he took pictures of the ice plant where the killer threw Jennifer from the cliff, and every square inch surrounding it.

His friend Tommy said, "Dop, look at this. The ice plant is mashed, as if the guy slipped, but here's one whole print. Let me get my tape measure to compare the size of your foot to these."

"Good idea," Dop said.

Tommy returned and said, "Stand on the sidewalk as close as you can to the foot print. Good, now I'll stretch the tape and lay it on the ground."

Once they were set for the photo, Tommy said, "God Dop, what size shoe do you wear?"

"Fourteen," Dop said.

"Well, whoever was here had a much smaller foot. Woops, it puts me in the running," Tommy said.

"Don't joke like that, Tommy. This isn't funny. Those cops are ready to fry me," Dop said.

"Yea, sorry pal," Tommy said. "If your foot is so much bigger, you must be heavier, too. Let's get away from the yellow tape and you can walk through the ice plant to see what kind of imprint you leave."

Pointing, Dop said, "How about over there. The density of the ground cover is about the same as here."

"Looks good. Bruce, bring your camera and set it on the tripod so it points down toward the ground," Tommy said. "Tell us when you're ready."

"Ready to roll," Bruce said. "Go for it, Dop, but go slow so I can get several photos of the impact of your shoe on the plants. Good... Stop, and let me move the camera so I'm close to ninety degrees. Two more steps... Good."

"Thanks, Bruce. Anything else?" Dop asked.

Tommy said, "Bruce, take more shots with Dop out of the way."

Bruce nodded and took several more photos, then said, "Dop, would you guess Jennifer weighed about 110 pounds?"

Dop nodded, and said, "Yea, why?"

"The extra weight might make a difference on the impact," Bruce said. "Where's Tony? He's probably the smallest of us. Let's redo the shots while you carry him."

"Great idea, Bruce," Tommy said. "Let's go over there."

Once the camera was set, Bruce said, "Ready. Pick up Tony and toss him over your shoulder like a fireman would."

Tony emitted a nervous screech as Dop lifted him off the ground. Tony said, "Don't drop me over the edge. I'm not going to test how the girl fell."

"Quit wiggling and you'll be fine," Dop said. "Here we go Tony." Dop walked across the ice plant trying to balance the nervous man on his shoulders. After a few steps, Dop moved onto the sidewalk, and said, "Tony, if I tried to drop you off my shoulders, what would you do?"

"Hang on for dear life," Tony said.

"Yea," Dop said. "Bruce, get ready for more shots while I try to toss Tony." After struggling to get Tony off his shoulders, Dop said, "If I can't get rid of Tony, someone smaller would have a hell of a time tossing a live girl. She was dead or unconscious. There didn't seem to be any signs of a struggle where she went over the edge." Setting Tony on the ground, Dop said, "Thanks Tony. Let's see what I did."

Tommy said, "The killer's weight slightly mashed the ice plant, but Dop's weight completely crushed it. Because Dop was strong enough to carry his load, he was more in contact with the ground, so he didn't slip or slide."

"Another good point," Dop said. "Bruce, did you bring a long enough extension to hang your camera over the edge and shoot back towards the cliff?"

"No," Bruce said, "but John brought his long ladders. We'll take them below and stand them against the cliff. With my zoom, I can get anything you want. I should be able to shoot down into the rocks, too. If the cops missed something, I'll find it. We'll work from both sides."

"Stay outside the yellow tape," Tommy said.

Signaling a thumb up, Bruce said, "Got it."

Dop said, "Before we go to the beach, let's get Roger started with his photos of the houses. He has his surveyor's transit and a laser. He brought overhead satellite maps to mark windows and doors, which face the cliff. The cops probably worked from the front of the houses. Perhaps someone, maybe a child, in one of those residences heard something or saw a car. The police probably talked to the adults.

"The cops interviewed neighbors and none seemed to hear or see anything Sunday night, but they assumed Jennifer was dumped Sunday, not Monday. Actually, it could be either night from what I heard on TV."

Roger nodded, and said, "I'll study the maps and see where a car would have come from and where it went afterwards, and mark houses and windows facing the access and exit route. Some people are night owls or insomniacs. Any sound, or head light shining on a window, might set a time or route."

Before they left the cliff, Bruce shot photos downward to the site of the body. They could see the ricochet marks. The police collected scraps of fabric. They dropped their own plum line nearby to use from below.

Next, they went to the beach. From multiple angles, they photographed the cliffs and rocks. They leaned their tall ladders against the cliff to shoot into the rocks where Jennifer's body landed. The forensic outline of her body was still fresh. One of Dop's friends repelled from the cliff to get a better prospective. From the ground, using telephoto, they scanned the drop point for any evidence the police missed. They found scraps of ice plant on an outcrop and a tiny piece of colored fabric. The camera had a lens, which could photograph the eye of a flea on a faraway bird. All the while, the videos recorded their activities.

*

Dop and two of his friends went to a computer and downloaded their photos. For the next four hours, they scanned every photo for any iota of evidence the police missed. Dop and his friends had time and incentive the police may not have.

They didn't contact the neighbors, but marked each house and window which might have a witness. They made maps of possible routes in and out of the neighborhood. They printed photos and made backup copies for Stephen, the police, and for Dop to take home.

***
Chapter 45

Thursday, 8:00 a.m.-

Dr. Warren met Harley and Ross at 8:00 a.m. "Well?" Harley asked.

The doctor said, "Jennifer was dead at least three and a half days when you found her, so time of death was between 6:30 p.m., when she was seen alive, and midnight Sunday. She was exposed to the elements and nature. High tide did not reach the rocks between Sunday and Wednesday, but the critters did. The shoreline provides homes for crabs, birds, flies, bugs, foxes, feral cats, rats, and who knows what else. You saw the damage.

"She was dead when she hit the rocks. She did not breathe in sand or water. There was no blood pool on the beach or on the rocks, but there was in her car and in Pete's parking lot. There was one large gash on her head, which bled At Pete's and in the car.

"A body doesn't bruise after death, but the skin tore when she hit the rocks. The only contusions were finger marks on her upper left arm and impact bruising from her head hitting the car bumper.

"She dropped nearly straight down from the cliff edge, so I imagine she was dumped or rolled. It's hard to throw a 110-pound dead weight. The lab will check her clothes for plant stains. She fell on her back first, which is normal for a dead body. As I said at the beach, numerous bones were broken when she bounced off the rocks; the impact crushed her back. If she was alive, and she fell or jumped, there should have been forward impetus, and most likely the landing would be feet first. There were no stab or gunshot wounds. No signs of strangulation.

"My estimate of three and a half days is because of advanced discoloration, bloating, insect activity, and she's out of rigor. It's been in the seventies in the daytime, cooling to the fifties at night, and she was partially in the shade of the rocks and hillside. It makes it difficult to determine a more exact time.

"My educated guess would be, she hit her head on the car's bumper; by falling or being pushed, is hard to say. He probably put her into the trunk, barely alive, and she died there. Blood keeps flowing until the heart stops beating. If she gained consciousness, she may have been too weak to signal for help. It's hard to tell if she died from bleeding out, the blow to her head, or from asphyxiation. They were all contributing factors. No carbon monoxide was present in her lungs, so the car moved after she died. There were dark fibers in her nasal passages, possibly carpet fibers from the trunk. She was dead when she was propelled over the cliff."

Sighing, Dr. Warren said, "When she went over the cliff is debatable, but it was before or after rigor. Before, allows about a three to four hour window. It's not likely the killer would try to dump her before midnight, so when he returned to the car she would have been in full rigor, and difficult to move, unless he was big and strong." Harley glanced at Ross, who avoided his eyes. Continuing, Warren said, "Since she was out of rigor, it was at least thirty-six hours after death. It's also unlikely the deed occurred during broad daylight, which means after midnight on Monday. It would still give scavengers ample time to do so much damage to the body. By then, a medium size man could handle her with minimal difficulty. He only had to remove her from the trunk and drag or roll her on the ground. If the killer was a woman, she would be as big and strong as Ross, and still have difficulty. It voids everything, except rigor, if the killer had assistance. Unless two people killer her, it would be difficult to get assistance before rigor on Sunday night.

"Insects detect death immediately, long before humans. A small fly can easily find a tiny opening into the trunk of a car. If he left her in the car, the heat in the trunk would speed rigor and deterioration."

Rubbing his face, Harley said, "The mother wants to identify Jennifer; can you do anything to soften the blow of seeing her condition?

It's the mortician's job," Warren said.

"Doc, please," Harley said.

"I'll do what I can," Warren said. "She's not recognizable, and it should not be the last memory of your only child. Her hair, clothes, and ankle bracelet provided preliminary ID. We can use dental records and DNA for positive identity."

Harley leaned on the desk with his face in his hands, and Ross slouched in a chair. "Anything else which might help us?" Harley asked.

The doctor said, "She may have scratched the killer, because I got a tiny bit of skin from under her fingernails. We're working it ASAP."

"Clean skin or tattooed," Harley asked.

"Clean," the doctor said.

"Thanks, Doc. Let us know if you find anything else to help," Harley said, and then he turned sullen. "I hate this Ross. Beautiful, young girls shouldn't be dumped on a beach for wildlife food. Did you notice any scratches on Doppelgänger or Sam?" He raised his head and said, "Since her car was so near Pete's, maybe we should look closer at Pete and Willie, too. If Doc can get DNA, it will help."

Ross was staring into air, and said, "I don't remember any scratches on Sam, but he was wearing a long sleeve t-shirt at the station. When we arrived at his apartment unannounced, he came to the door shirtless and put on a sweatshirt immediately. I didn't think anything of it, assuming he was being proper.

"I was with Doppelgänger for several hours, at his house and his studio. He lives in a tank top and made no effort to cover his body. I didn't notice any scratches," she said.

"And how close did you look, Ross?" he said.

"Funny, Harley, but I noticed he kept in shape, and he was quite comfortable with me being close, ah, in examination range, Sir," she said.

Harley said, "In shape enough to lift a dead body from a vehicle, carry her to the cliff edge, and drop her over?"

"Yes, Sir," she said. "He hauls around rather large chunks of wood. Oh, by the way, did Sonja have any scratches? A jealous girlfriend?"

Harley scowled, and said, "Not a one. She's a sturdy lady, but I don't see her murdering a girl, and being able to dump her over a cliff. If Sonja and Jennifer got into it, there would have been a catfight, resulting in multiple scratches. I think someone would have noticed the commotion."

"Tell you what, Harley, I'll go check the men, and you can check Sonja," Ross said.

"Alone?" Harley said. "Not on your life. You'd hold it over my head any time you wanted something special, and no way am I sending you alone to examine Doppelgänger's body. This one, especially, should be a team effort." Ross moved to rise, but Harley said, "Slow down, eager beaver. Let's see if Marcus has anything from Pete's film. Maybe we can narrow the suspects."

***
Chapter 46

Thursday, 9:30 a.m. -

Harley and Ross entered the lab and greeted "The Rat," Tommy Sullivan.

Tommy said, "Hi, I've got some preliminaries for you, but most lab results are days or weeks away. First the car. There's not another car on earth so clean. No dust, and no trash, except for one hamburger wrapper and a partially consumed drink in a disposable cup."

"Not surprising, after seeing her boyfriend's car and apartment," Harley said.

"Too bad," Tommy said. "Whoever cleaned it has a better vacuum than ours. It was probably cleaned shortly before the girl died, because there was minimal dirt on both floorboards, but we'll test it. There were a few long red hairs on both the passenger's and driver's seat. The only thing unusual was some smashed green plant material on the floor board."

Harley said, "There was ice plant at the dump site."

Nodding, Tommy said, "You're right, I'll test it first, but it doesn't say who drove her car. The only fingerprints were from Jennifer and Sam. They were on the normal places on both doors around the door latches and locks. The prints on the trunk were smudged from a haphazard wipe."

"Prints on the rear view mirror?" Harley asked.

"Only Jennifer and Sam," Tommy said. "If someone else drove the car, they used gloves.

"There was evidence in the trunk," Tommy said. "We found long red hairs and a blood pool on the left side, consistent with where a head might be if a body was in the trunk. If a person was alive in the trunk, there is usually skin residue, or prints, on the underside of the trunk lid. It was clean. I've never seen a lid with nothing on it. The dark fibers in her nose were the carpet fibers in the trunk. It was an easy test. The boys found dark blue, knit cotton fibers in the locking mechanism. Might be a sweatshirt."

Continuing, Tommy said, "In the parking lot, there was a blood pool soaked through the gravel. The boys measured her car, and it would fit between the blood and the fence. The blood from the bumper, parking lot, and trunk, all match Jennifer's blood type, but DNA isn't completed, yet. They took photos of scuffs in the gravel, but there weren't identifiable footprints."

"Hmm," Harley said. "Nothing we didn't expect, except lack of fingerprints from anyone else. How about the dumpsite?"

As he retrieved photos, Tommy said, "Forensics brought lots of pictures and some physical evidence. From the photos, you can see there was considerable disturbance to the ice plant at the alleged dumpsite. A few possible shoe prints, about size ten, but many indicating slippage or skid marks. This spot was the only place where the edge of the cliff was disturbed, and the body was immediately below it. Ice plant is viscous, so look for stains on clothes and shoes when you search a suspect. I have a vomit sample to decipher. I'll check it against Jennifer's stomach contents, but we believe she was already dead. Could be from the killer, or a passing dog. My guess is pizza. Depending how old it is, we might get DNA."

Wrinkling her nose, Ross said, "Glad I just investigate. Are those her clothes I see?"

"Yea," said Tommy. "I was looking at them. Not much. Blood on the right shoulder of her shirt, same type, but too early for DNA. Loose fibers are from the carpet in the trunk and there might be stains from the ice plant. Again, still too soon for a positive. The loose sand and dirt are probably from the beach and rocks, those results will come quicker."

"I know you're busy, but quick as you can," Harley said.

Nodding, Tommy said, "Moving along, forensics found pieces of ice plant on the beach and shreds of clothes and skin on the rocks. Still testing those. No blood was present, so she was dead when she hit the rocks."

Pointing to the red dress, Tommy said, "The dress has a combination of fresh and sea water, seaweed, and sand, logical at the entrance of the lagoon with tides washing in and out. It could have gone through several tides. The tears are more likely to be from the rocks rather than a fight. Only sand covered the one red shoe. That's it for now. I'll call you when I get more."

"Thanks," Harley said.

***
Chapter 47

Thursday, 1:30 p.m.-

The knock came at 1:30 p.m. Doppelgänger was home, reviewing the pictures he took at the cliffs where the murderer threw Jennifer onto the beach. He was sorting and printing particular photos to give to Stephen, his attorney.

"Coming," he yelled. Through the glass around the mermaid, he saw Harley, Ross, and a black and white parked in his driveway. "Shit," he said as he called Stephen. He opened the front door and returned to the living room where he saw two police officers on his patio. Still talking, he faced Harley, handed him the phone, and said, "My attorney. You can tell him and me at the same time what's going on."

Taking the phone, he said, "This is Detective Harley, Diego Norte Sheriff's Department. I have a warrant to take Mr. Doppelgänger's computer, cell phone, camera, and to search his house for clothes related to Jennifer Anisteadt's murder. If we find anything of interest, or not, we may take him in for further questioning. We don't know what we'll find until we search. If he doesn't call back, you can see him at headquarters in San Elijo in an hour." Handing the phone to Ross, he said, "Bag it. The officers will take your computer, but I'll let you turn it off while they watch. Show them where your camera is."

Dop glanced from Harley to Ross, turned to his computer, and shut it down. He picked up the folder of photos and said, "This may prove my innocence, I'd like to take it with me." Harley flipped through the photos and handed it back.

"Show us where your clothes are, including shoes," Harley said.

Taking them to the garage, Dop said, "The last few days of laundry is in the washer. I don't use many clothes. When it's full I turn it on."

"Sunday and Monday?" Harley asked. Dop nodded. The officer bagging the clothes handed the stained jeans and shirt to Harley. He held them up and said, "Blood?"

Dop said, "It would be pretty stupid to keep bloody clothes, wouldn't it? Those are plum juice stains from the farmer's market on Sunday. Test it and ask Rosa."

Adding them to the bag, Harley said, "We will. How about shoes?"

In his bare feet, Dop led them to his bedroom. The officers inspected his shoes. They handed a pair of sneakers to Harley. Raising his eyebrows, he asked, "What's the green on the bottoms?"

"Those are my garden shoes; it's grass. Take samples of my lawn and test them," Dop said.

"Got a dark blue sweatshirt?" Harley asked. Dop shook his head. Harley tossed the sneakers and Dop's bike boots into the bag, and said, "Put on the flip-flops. Ross, read Mr. Doppelgänger his rights, pat him down, and cuff him. We're going for a ride."

Ross looked surprised, glanced quickly at Dop, and followed orders. He didn't resist or utter a sound. The officers put Dop in the black and white, while Harley and Ross followed silently to headquarters.

*

Doppelgänger sat alone in the interrogation room until his attorney arrived. Stephen greeted him, and said, "What did they find?"

Dop said, "A shirt and pants with plum juice stains, sneakers with grass stains, and I don't know why they took my boots, except I usually wear them out of the house. They took my computer as we expected, and my camera and phone. There are only two calls between Jennifer and me. The first was before the photo shoot when we made our arrangements to meet. The second was when she called me Sunday evening about 6:00 p.m. to thank me for the photo shoot."

"Okay, what's in the folder?" Stephen asked.

Pushing it across the table, "Dop said, "Photos from this morning. They don't prove I didn't kill Jennifer, but they prove those aren't my footprints at the cliff. They show she was probably rolled over the edge, not thrown. She went straight down. They also missed a scrap of fabric caught on a branch, proving she went straight down."

"Damn it, Dop," Stephen said. "They'll crucify you for entering a crime scene."

Dop said, "We were curious civilians on public property. We stayed outside of the yellow tape and made a video of everything we did." Stephen glared at him, and then scanned the photos.

Rubbing his face, Dop said, "Shit. I wore my boots this morning when I tramped through the ice plant, but the residue is fresh."

Stephen scowled at him, and said, "Shit is right."

As Harley and Ross entered, Stephen said, "Don't say anything, unless I nod. Okay?"

Staring at Ross, Dop nodded. Stephen watched him until Harley said, "The clothes are in the lab. If they're not evidentiary, you may be free to go if I like your answers. For your attorney's information, we read you your rights at your house, so under oath, let's review your whereabouts Sunday and Monday nights. Jennifer was last seen alive at 6:30 p.m. Where were you between 6:30 p.m. and sunrise Monday?"

Stephen said, "As I recall, all this is in your records from previous interviews."

Not taking his eyes off Dop, Harley said, "I'd like to hear it once more in Mr. Doppelgänger's own words."

Stephen nodded, and Dop said, "I was home alone."

"That's it?" Harley said. "No one saw you or talked to you?"

"I talked to my friend, Tommy, about 8:30 p.m., and the little girl next door saw me at 9:30 p.m. Did you talk to her? After which I was alone until I went to breakfast Monday morning."

Scribbling some notes, Harley said, "How about between sunset, Monday, and sunrise Tuesday?"

Glancing at Ross, Dop said, "I was at the Gut Buster until about 7:00 p.m. when Ross and I went to the studio until about 10:00 p.m. when she...left. I went home and slept alone, until you and Ross appeared on my doorstep about 11:00 a.m." All eyes were on Ross, who coolly, stared at Dop.

Harley broke the tension when he said, "What's so important in the folder?"

Stephen said, "Mr. Doppelgänger, and some friends, took a little excursion this morning. There's a video to document their activities. To summarize, these photos show the footprints in the ice plant are not Dominik's. His are four sizes larger. They show Jennifer was rolled, or pushed, off the cliff and there is still evidence hanging on a twig. The other photos were taken in conjunction with a surveyor's transit with a laser beam. They indicate each window, door, patio, or yard with a line of sight to the cliff. Someone might have been awake and peeked out of the window. Maybe a child who hasn't been interviewed." Glancing at Dop, Stephen said, "His little excursion encrusted his boots with ice plant, as you can see from the photos. It would be fresh, not two or three days old."

Sorting through the photos, Harley said, "Well, Mr. Sherlock has been busy. Maybe he's been covering evidence from the crime scene."

Dop began to reply, but Stephen put his hand on his arm.

Harley was skeptical, with doubts about Doppelgänger, but he was fair, and wanted to be sure the guilty did not go free. Rubbing his fingers over chin, Harley said, "Doppelgänger, this evidence is incomplete and can't be used in court to convict anyone. It may bring doubt about your guilt, but the prosecution would probably tear it apart."

"I'm not using it in court," Dop said. "I want your people to look at it and properly interview the neighbors and retrieve the evidence on the cliff."

"That's a lot of man hours," Harley said.

"So I'm hearing you don't care if you're pursuing the right person who killed Jennifer? This is my life I'm talking about," Dop said.

"Mr. Doppelgänger, it's nothing personal. We have a budget and we can't spend it all on one case," Harley said. "Who's going to pay for the hours of interviews this would take?"

Dop stood, towering over Harley, and said, "The finest professionals in the Diego Norte Sheriff's Department, whose job it is to make sure the guilty party is prosecuted and the innocent go free. Otherwise, each suspect gets a half-assed job. Not this one."

Stephen grabbed Dop's arm and pulled him to his chair, and said, "Hold it Dop, perhaps Detective Harley uses outside help. Is it possible?"

Harley was distracted from his comment by a knock on the door. Ross took a paper from the clerk and passed it to Harley. He read it and said, "The stains are not blood, but there's sand on the boots along with fresh ice plant. Your attempt to prove your innocence may have cost your life. There was no evidence to connect you to the cliffs without the ice plant. Let the investigators do their jobs."

As he looked at the floor, Dop muttered, "Call me the Lord of Dumb."

After studying Doppelgänger as he slouched further in his chair, Harley said, "Come with me Ross." The door closed behind them.

Two hours later, Harley returned, tossed a cloth bag on the table, and said, "This look familiar?"

Dop looked at Stephen, shrugged, and his attorney nodded. Dop said, "It could be the one Jennifer used at the pier, but I didn't inspect it. It seemed to be flowered cloth."

Harley asked, "Did you see a wallet?" Dop shook his head. "Someone just used her credit card. The wallet was in the bag with her cosmetics and keys. Did you see anything else?"

"She tossed in undies or a bikini bottom, like I told you," Dop said.

Harley fished around in the bag, pulled out a piece of cloth, and asked, "This?"

Shrugging, Dop said, "Could be; I wasn't very close."

"Would it be in the photos?" Harley asked.

"I don't think so. I turned my back because she seemed shy about removing them in public," Dop said, then added, "When did you find the bag?"

"It was in the trunk of her car, why?" Harley said.

"If the keys were in the trunk, who drove the car?" Dop said.

"He put them in the bag after he parked," Harley said.

"Not likely," Dop said. "He'd have been scared and in a hurry. Why not toss them?"

After gazing at Doppelgänger, Harley asked, "You have a passport?" Dop nodded. "Where?"

"In my safe deposit box," Dop said.

Harley said, "Take an officer to get it. Give it to him and you can go for now, but stay close to Larson if we need to ask more questions." Harley stood and stomped through the door with Ross at his heels.

Dop laid his head on his arms on top of the table. He thought he might get sick. Stephen placed his hand on Dop's back, rubbed it, and said, "Come on, let's get some fresh air. You'll feel better."

"I doubt it," Dop said.

***
Chapter 48

Thursday, 4:30 p.m.-

As Harley and Ross entered the Photo Lab, Marcus was reaching for the phone, but he hung up. "I was about to call you," he said. "Got a picture of the mystery man from Pete's video. They're right about being his twin; he could be Doppelgänger's, Doppelgänger." Marcus laughed alone at his joke.

Ross and Harley agreed the resemblance was uncanny, but so far, legible fingerprints evaded them. "That all?" Harley asked.

"No. Looks like Doppelgänger got himself a new girlfriend. These photos are from Monday afternoon. Maybe another missing model? Sorry, Ross."

She glared at Marcus and said, "Stow it, Marcus. The woman's name is Ginger; we met her and she's alive. Anything else significant?" She kept her cool, but felt a tug rise inside as she watched Doppelgänger and Ginger dance the dance of two adults testing the waters.

When she held Doppelgänger's photos a little too long, Harley said, "Focus, Ross. Try these. Maybe we found our man." Ross stood as she viewed the still photos from the videos. The dates were Monday morning at 3:00 a.m., in Pete's parking lot. Fortunately, Willie forgot to turn off the outside camera. A man looked into Jennifer's car. He was fairly tall and slender, but wore a dark hoodie, jeans, and sneakers. He didn't break in; he used car keys which fit the lock.

"Forensics found Jennifer's keys in her purse in the trunk," Ross said.

Harley leafed through the file, and said, "Yes, so he could be anyone, except fat ol' me. You can't see his face. It could be the stranger, or any man we interviewed, except Bert."

"Run the video, please," Harley said. They watched the man walk from the direction of the street toward Jennifer's car. He opened the trunk with a key, touched the body, and unsuccessfully, tried to lift it. He closed the trunk and walked toward the street. Within fifteen minutes, he returned, opened the door with a key, and drove from the parking lot.

Sighing, Harley said, "Can't see any part of him, except size."

"I don't think he's as tall as Doppelgänger," Ross said.

"Course not," Marcus chimed.

Harley pointed a threatening finger at Marcus, and said, "Anything earlier Sunday evening? It was dark when Jennifer left Pete's."

Marcus said, "Willie indicated the outside camera was set to activate between 7:30 p.m. and when he left after 2:00 a.m. Unfortunately, he didn't reset the timer to come on earlier as the days shortened. There's nothing during the time Jennifer was outside, probably dying. There were no people on camera when it came on, but her car was there. There's no death scene. Sorry." Marcus turned the film forward, and said, "This is 7:45 p.m., and you can see the stranger with the pony tail ride away on a bicycle."

Rubbing his eyes, Harley said, "Well, we can be fairly certain she died between 6:30 p.m. and about 7:15 p.m. if the man needed time to put her in the trunk of her car and leave in his car. How do we find the man on the bike? He could be the killer or an eyewitness. I see more leg work."

***
Chapter 49

Remembering why they were at the Computer/photo lab, Harley asked, "Anything on Jennifer's credit cards, Marcus?"

"Turns out she was at the Village for the afternoon. She didn't buy anything expensive, but she bought a book at 3:30 p.m. and some candy at 4:00 p.m. She got gas in Derby Point at 5:40 p.m.," he said.

"Derby Point?" Harley said. "She was in the Village at 4:00 p.m. and at Pete's about 6:15 p.m. She could have been with Doppelgänger anywhere from the candy store until she got gas."

"Or not," Ross said. "We have no idea what time she left the Village and she had to go through Derby Point to get to Pete's."

Harley turned slowly, and said, "Ross, he's still a major suspect. Keep your heart out of this. She called him, and he could have agreed to meet her at Pete's." Marcus grinned at his desk.

Leering at Marcus, she said, "I'm anticipating the defense. She wasn't a clean freak like Sam, but there weren't any receipts in the car or her purse, except the one with the book. She could have stopped anywhere and spent cash."

"She only bought gas from the pump in Derby Point, nothing else on the card. I believe the only stations in Derby Point are right on the freeway, which is a few miles from Doppelgänger's house," Marcus said.

Harley sighed, and said, "We can't check all the watering holes for twenty miles, especially since we don't know her exact route. I hate to say you're right, Ross, because she could have been stuck in traffic on a Sunday afternoon. What about the latest charge?"

"Someone bought pizza today in San Luis at 12:06 p.m.," Marcus said. "Here's the address."

Ross said, "Doesn't Sam work in San Luis?"

"Yea," Harley said. "Marcus, fax a photo of Sam to the San Luis office and ask them check it. If the shift changed, they may need to return tomorrow. Sam probably had access to Jennifer's credit cards, whether or not he harmed her. He could be using it because he always did. Come on Ross; let's talk to Bert, Sonja, and Doppelgänger about the photo of the stranger."

In the hallway, Ross said, "Dorkus don't know nothin'."

Harley poked her shoulder, and said, "Don't make me document your file, Ross. We don't have time for you and Marcus to play games."

***
Chapter 50

When Harley knocked on Bert's door, the same old eye peeked through the window. Bert opened the door and invited the detectives into the house.

"I'm sorry, I can't offer tea, but Margie is under the weather," Bert said.

Trying to keep from clapping, Harley said, "That's fine Bert, and sorry Marge is sick. I'd like to show you a photo."

Bert grabbed it and said, "He's the strange man at the pier. I told you he looked like the photographer. If Margie was well, I know she'd recognize him, too."

Harley asked, "Have you seen him again?"

"No," said Bert, "but we haven't gone out for a few days, because Margie's sick."

"Has she seen a doctor?" Ross asked.

Wiping a tear, he said, "Yes, and the hospice nurse comes daily."

"We're sorry, Bert," Ross said. "We'll go now and let you take care of her."

In the car, they were both silent until Harley said, "It's too bad so few couples stay together long enough to share their Golden Years. I'll take flowers home to my wife...maybe not. I'd need to convince her I didn't screw up." Ross grinned.

*

When Sonja cracked her door, she said, "I won't say anything bad about Doppelgänger, so don't ask."

Harley said, "It's about the mysterious man at the pier. Will you look at a photo?"

Through the slim opening, she took it from Harley. A minute later, she opened the door, and said, "Come in. I've seen him, but I don't know him. He hangs in the background, but I've seen Dop buy food for him. When I asked about the guy, Dop said, 'He's the shadow of a soul someone once loved.' Dop's like a mother hen, always a kind word or deed. He did not kill that girl, Detective."

"It could have been an accident," Harley said.

"If so, he wouldn't dump her on the beach," she said. Answering Harley's reaction, she said, "I watch the news, and that's all that's been on TV this week. Ross is quite photogenic, you not so much. Stand straighter; it would give you more authority."

"Thanks for the information," Harley said. "All of it. I'll work on my suave."

*

As Harley pulled into the station, he said, "My daughter's got a thing at school tonight. After Bert, I'd like to go. I don't want her to grow up without her old man; my job makes it tough on the family."

"Go," Ross said. "Anything you want me to do?"

"Yea," he said. "If you can behave, take the photo to Doppelgänger. Call first to be sure he's not entertaining. Maybe you ought to meet somewhere public."

"Yes, Sir," she said.

*

Doppelgänger's phone message said, "Please call my new number..." When he answered his cell phone, Ross could barely understand him over the background noise.

"This is Detective Ross," she yelled. "I'd like to show you a photo."

"I'm at the Gut," he said.

The noise was deafening when Ross entered the bar. They were having a Dart Tournament, so the contestant's fans were fully supporting each successful throw. It took her five minutes to find Doppelgänger, who was at the end of the bar watching her struggle through the crowd.

"How did you hear your phone ring in this noise?" she said.

"It's on vibrate," he said.

She yelled, "Is there anywhere we can go that's quieter?"

He turned and she followed him outside. He walked toward his studio, but Ross said, "This is fine. I have a photo I'd like you to see and identify if you can."

Eyeing her distrustfully, he took it, and said, "His name's Eugene."

"A witness said he was lurking around the pier and he was at Pete's, when Jennifer was there after you left. Pete's film saw him ride away on a bicycle at 7:45 p.m. What do you know about him?" she asked.

"Yea, lurking describes his behavior," Dop said. "He's a semi-homeless man who wanders between San Luis and Derby Point on his bicycle. He's got a room in a low income residence in San Luis, but I see him sleeping in various places. Often I buy a burger for him at the pier, Pete's, or the Gut. If I see him, he knows I'll feed him. Maybe it's why he was at Pete's. He's sort of like the seagulls following a fishing boat, because they know there's a free meal. I wouldn't be surprised if he's hiding in the alley now, hoping I'll show up."

"Dangerous?" Ross asked.

Shrugging, Dop said, "Schizophrenic, so who knows. He doesn't drive, and I don't think he could carry out a plan to hide a body and return to dump it. He'd sooner run than confront someone."

Ross said, "So you saw the news?"

"Yea," Dop said.

"Did you see him anytime Sunday?" she asked.

"I didn't notice him. My groupies were a little noisy Sunday, and he's pretty shy," he said. "So, am I still the prime suspect?"

Frowning, Ross said, "I can't answer you, but thank you for being helpful."

When she turned to walk away, he touched her arm, but she jerked it away. He spread his hands, and said, "Sorry, I was going to offer to buy you a burger if you promise not to arrest me tonight."

Debating Harley's reaction, she said, "No thanks. I'm on duty."

Laughing, he said, "A burger's not liquor. You're not allowed to eat?"

Debating a second time, she said, "Not tonight." After a long hesitation, "Maybe when this is over."

Feeling the fear well inside, he said, "Soon, I hope."

Solemnly, without looking at him, she said, "Me too, but you can walk me to my car."

"Well, finally a good sign," he said. "At least you don't think I'm a murderer."

As she turned, he blocked her way by extending his arm across the sidewalk and placing his hand on the wall. He said, "Wait please."

Stiffening, Ross looked from his arm to his face, and said, "I'd like to go, Mr. Doppelgänger."

Surprised at her formality, he said, "Give me two minutes. I don't know how I got to this place so quickly, but I'm scared. Last Sunday I was a carefree photographer; today I may be on the road to the gas chamber when all I did was take some pictures of a pretty girl. It's why I distrust the authorities so much. You're a cop, so naturally you think like one. You must consider who I could be, not who I am. I realize cops are necessary, but I couldn't live that way."

Ross looked away, and said, "I believe in justice. Trust can mean my death or my partner's death."

Dop said, "Look at me, Ross." When her eyes met his, he said, "I did not kill Jennifer, and I've done everything I could to help you."

Trapped by the fear and pleading on his face, quietly Ross said, "We're looking for the truth. Please, let me go."

At her car, Dop said, "Safe and sound, just like you'd be anywhere with me."

She bit her lip to keep her mouth under control, but said, "Thanks," as she got into her car. Doppelgänger was still standing near the curb, watching her, as she drove away. She kept her eyes on the road.

*

Thursday night and it was only 7:00 p.m. Dop returned to the Gut, but twenty minutes later, he placed a burger in the box at the back of his studio and stood to the side in the shadows. As Eugene retrieved the food, Dop carefully stepped forward, and said, "It's me Eugene. Can we talk while you eat?"

Eugene held the burger to his chest, but his eyes darted from side to side, ready to bolt. Dop said, "Please wait, Eugene. I need your help. I'm in trouble."

Lowering his head, Eugene looked from Dop to his food, but his hunger won over his fear. He unwrapped the burger, nibbled the edge, and glanced at Dop before he devoured the remainder.

Quietly waiting, finally Dop asked, "After I was at the pier on Sunday, you went to Pete's to find me. Were you there after dark?"

Eugene lowered his head, pulled his shoulders forward, and wrapped his arms around his chest.

"It's okay," Dop said. "You're not in trouble. Did you see a man and a woman fighting in Pete's parking lot?"

Eugene's eyes darted from side to side, and then he nodded, yes.

"Was it me?" Dop asked.

Eugene replied no, with two fast shakes of the head.

"Was it the lady on the gazebo at the pier?" Dop asked.

Two quick nods, yes, from Eugene.

"Was the man at the pier?" Dop asked.

Two more fast head shakes, no.

Thinking, Dop said, "Was he young like the guy on the skates at the pier?"

Three fast nods, yes, and Eugene pointed to the food box.

Smiling, Dop said, "Thanks Eugene. Stay here and I'll get another burger."

After feeding Eugene another burger, Dop rushed home and left a message for Ross on her phone. "Call me ASAP. I found some new information."

He slowly set the phone on its stand, and fear racked him to his bones. It wasn't fear of the gas chamber, but the fear of his reaction to the sight and sounds of Caren Ross.

He admired strong, independent women who bucked the tide of prejudice, chauvinism, and plain antiquated attitudes of society against women. As a self-made rebel, he understood the difficulty of being typecast. Women cops certainly fit the genre.

Speaking to the phone, Doppelgänger said, "She's another dumb idea. Walk away; fast and faraway"

***
Chapter 51

Friday, 7:00 a.m.-

"Morning Ross," Harley said.

Handing him a cup of coffee, Ross said, "Good morning. How was your daughter's program?"

"The kids were great. She plays the flute in the Junior High orchestra. She was so happy when she saw me in the audience; she grinned and waived." Patting his chest, he said, "It made my heart flutter to think she was my little girl."

Studying him, Ross said, "So you're a softie underneath. I suspected you weren't all gruff and grit."

Avoiding her gaze, Harley said, "Last night's over, today I'm back to gruff and grit. It's the day to catch a murderer. Ready to put it all together?"

As they walked toward their office, Ross said, "Absolutely."

Harley asked, "Did you talk to Doppelgänger last night?"

"Yes," she said. "The guy's name is Eugene. Apparently, he's a schizophrenic who follows Doppelgänger because he feeds him. Says he doesn't drive and is unlikely to be able to plan the process of secretly dumping a body. Also said, the guy is more likely to run from a problem than cause one. Doppelgänger left a message on my phone about new evidence, so I'll call him in a while."

"Another beach scavenger," Harley said.

Frowning at him, Ross said, "I like Sonja's explanation better. She said Doppelgänger called him 'a shadow of a soul someone used to love.' Be human Harley."

"Be tough, Ross, or they'll eat you alive. You can't change it; you can't stop it, and no one wants to take care of them. The idiots who control the purse-strings decided it's inhumane to keep them clean, warm, safe, and fed if it means a locked gate," Harley said.

Her face softened, as she turned on her computer, and said, "Am I secretary today?"

"Yea, if you want this done today," Harley said. The phone rang, and Harley grabbed it, "Harley...Yea, take him through the metal detector, and bring him in." He hung up. "Doppelgänger's here."

Obviously nervous, Dop sat on the chair Harley offered. Glancing at Ross, he said, "You didn't return my call. I talked to Eugene last night after you left the Gut."

"And?" Harley said.

Eyeing him, Dop said, "And, he saw a man and woman fighting in Pete's parking lot. He said the man was young, but he wasn't at the pier."

"Go on," Harley said, "that's not much. Did he see the woman killed and put in the trunk?"

Shrugging, Dop said, "Don't know. It's all I got. I didn't want to scare him with a bunch of questions."

"How do we talk to this guy?" Harley asked.

"He doesn't talk," Dop said. "He's very shy, but I've befriended him with food. I ask questions and he nods or shakes his head."

"Great," Harley said. "Could he identify someone from a photo?"

"I don't know," Dop said, "I've never tried anything so personal with him. For sure, he wouldn't talk to you Harley. You scream cop. If Ross dressed casually, he might talk to her if she was with me. You'd never get him in a courtroom. He'd go berserk."

"How do we find him?" Harley asked.

Shrugging, Dop said, "That's by chance, too. We could try Pete's about noon or the Gut tonight. Sometimes Pete feeds him. Get a lineup of pictures ready and plan your questions so he can nod or point. Don't rely on his first answer. You'll have to judge if he's got good information."

Ross looked at Harley, and he shrugged. "Can't hurt to try," she said.

Frowning, Harley said, "If he gives us good information, we probably can't use it. Can you video the interview with sound?"

"Eugene's let me take his picture before, so I can try," Dop said.

After scrubbing his face with his hands, Harley looked at Dop, and said, "Ok, we've got nothing to lose, but if this is a setup, Doppelgänger, I'll bury you."

Disgusted, Dop said, "You can't get past my appearance and lifestyle, can you, Harley? You're one of the reasons I choose to be who I am. Bigotry takes many forms."

Leaning forward with his arms on his desk, Harley said, "I'm bigoted against crime. Doesn't matter if you're naked or in a tux, homeless or the U.S. President. Anyone remotely involved in a crime is suspect until I know the truth. I've fought as hard to prove someone innocent when others thought he was guilty. Life would be easier if you'd get the chip off your shoulder." He stood and left Ross with Doppelgänger.

Dop expelled a big breath of air, and looked at Ross. She said, "It was no line, Mr. Doppelgänger, it's who Harley is. If you're innocent, be glad you've got him on this case."

"Do you still think I might be guilty?" Dop asked.

With a steady gaze, she said, "We're still compiling evidence."

Standing, Dop said, "Maybe we should meet about 1:30 p.m. at Pete's. Most of the lunch crowd is gone then. Dress like you're going for a hike, in jeans, t-shirt, sneakers, no makeup, no purse, and no gun. Hands empty except for a manila folder with your photos. Don't bring anything else, which won't fit in your pockets. Turn off your cell phone. If a fly lands wrong, he might bolt."

***
Chapter 52

Evidence Timeline

Sunday, October 29, 2006

7:00 a.m. to 11:00 a.m. - Photo shoot at the pier.

11:15 a.m. - Jennifer talks to Sam. No one saw her leave.

11:15 a.m. to 12:15 p.m. - Doppelgänger takes photos on boardwalk.

11:00 a.m. to 5:00 p.m. - Sam and friends watch football.

12:30 p.m. to 1:30 p.m. - Doppelgänger arrives at Pete's Palace.

1:45 p.m. to 2:30 p.m. - Jennifer at Pete's. Eugene appears.

2:30 p.m. to 5:45 p.m. - Jennifer goes to the Village and back to Derby Point for gas.

1:30 p.m. to 3:30 p.m. - Doppelgänger cruises home, visits swap meet.

4:15 p.m. - Doppelgänger talks to Sonja.

5:00 p.m. - Doppelgänger talks to neighbor about bike, who sees him put it away.

5:00 p.m. - Willie arrives at Pete's

5:00 p.m. - Friends leave, Sam asleep on couch. He sleeps until morning.

6:00 p.m. - Jennifer calls Doppelgänger.

6:20 p.m. to 6:30 p.m. - Jennifer inside Pete's, waiting for someone, goes outside.

7:30 p.m. - Pete's outside camera comes on. See Jennifer's car, no murder on film.

7:45 p.m. - Eugene rides away on bicycle.

8:30 p.m. - Pete leaves

8:30 p.m. - Doppelgänger talks to friend, Tommy.

9:30 p.m. - Doppelgänger waves at neighbor girl.

10:00 p.m. - Doppelgänger asleep.

Monday, October 30, 2006

3:00 a.m. - Man in dark clothes opens trunk of car and walks away 15 minutes later.

7:00 a.m. - Doppelgänger meets Tommy at Belle's for breakfast.

8:50 a.m. to 9:00 a.m. - Sam looks for Jennifer.

9:45 a.m. - Sam at Sheriff's Office.

1:15 p.m. - Harley & Ross interview Doppelgänger, get photos of Jennifer.

7:00 p.m. to 10:00 p.m. - Ross with Doppelgänger at the Gut and studio.

10:15 p.m. - Sam in bed alone.

10:30 p.m. - Doppelgänger in bed alone.

Tuesday, October 31, 2006

8:30 a.m. - Ross & Harley ask Doppelgänger about missing girls.

11:30 a.m. - Doppelgänger meets Ginger, spends next 24 hours together.

9:30 p.m. - Doppelgänger in bed alone.

10:00 p.m. - Sam in bed alone.

Wednesday, November 1, 2006

6:00 a.m. - Doppelgänger and Ginger awake.

8:00 a.m. to 5:00 p.m. - Sam at work.

10:00 a.m. - Jennifer's car located near Pete's.

11:00 a.m. - Ross & Harley interview Doppelgänger, Ginger.

12:00 p.m. - Red dress found at lagoon.

1:30 p.m. - Jennifer's body located on beach.

***
Chapter 53

Friday, 8:00 a.m.-

After Doppelgänger left, Harley and Ross concentrated on the evidence they gathered.

"Okay," Harley said, "lay out the timeline and let's go back to Sunday. After the photo shoot ended, several people believed Jennifer was having a heated telephone conversation, possibly mentioning football. Sam confirmed they argued about watching TV, and she wanted to stay at the beach. No one saw her leave with Doppelgänger. Agreed, so far?"

"Yes," said Ross. "Jennifer was using her credit card at the Village while Doppelgänger was talking to Sonja on his cell phone. He said he was at home, which the phone company can verify. He talked to Jennifer about 6:00 p.m. and she appeared at Pete's by 6:20 p.m., alive and alone, but maybe waiting for someone. Could have been Doppelgänger, Sam, or someone else. Both say they were home between 6:15 p.m. and 7:30 p.m. Doppelgänger's computer was in use; Sam hasn't offered an alibi. Pete's camera didn't come on until 7:30 p.m."

Shaking a finger, Harley said, "But, Doppelgänger can't prove he was the one using his computer all the time." Holding up his hand to stop Ross' comment, he said, "But I agree, it was probably him. Pete's film puts Eugene at the scene during the critical time, but unless you find him of sound mind, he may be a witness rather than the killer. Nothing happened on Pete's video until 3:00 a.m., when a man dressed in dark clothes opens the trunk, leaves, returns, and then drives the car away from Pete's. Marcus said, according to the video, her car didn't move until then."

"By my visualization, the man at the car was closer to Sam's size than Doppelgänger's. He's a big man, not only in height," Ross said.

Scowling, Harley said, "Keep an open mind, Ross. We don't know Jennifer was killed at Pete's, but there was fresh blood in the gravel, which matches her blood type. There was blood on her back bumper, which could align with the pool on the ground, according to measurements. We saw a body in the trunk of her car, the pool of blood was her type, and forensics found strands of long red hair, but everything else was spotless. Until we get DNA, it's enough for me to believe Jennifer was probably killed at Pete's."

"I agree," Ross said. "The M.E. believes she died before midnight. Maybe Marcus can blow up pictures of the bumper to look for blood at 7:30 p.m. when the camera began. It was too dark to see blood on the ground."

"Good point, Ross. Start a list of questions," Harley said.

Frowning, Ross said, "Think Dr. Warren can tell how long she bled from the amount of blood in the trunk? He said a body stops pumping blood when the heart stops. If she was alive awhile, it could be the difference between Manslaughter and First Degree. It would be murder to cover a crime."

Nodding, Harley said, "I'm proud of you, Ross. You made another good point. Are you after my job?"

Grinning she said, "Someday."

"Huh," Harley said. "Now, Miss Smarty, when was the body dumped?"

Squirming, Ross said, "It would be late at night, either Sunday or Monday. The M.E. said she was dead and out of rigor when she hit the rocks. She would have been in rigor Sunday night. There was considerable animal and insect damage, so he believes it was Monday night. Probably between midnight and 5:00 a.m. when people began waking up."

"Then why was Jennifer's car parked on the street from Monday morning until we found it on Wednesday?" Harley asked.

"Maybe he removed the body and was lucky to find the same place. He probably parked his car nearby. Doppelgänger has a loud motorcycle, wouldn't someone hear it?" she asked.

"He has a truck also, right?" Harley said.

"Yes," she said.

"How did he do it?" Harley asked.

Ross said, "He could have backed Jennifer's car up to the sidewalk, lifted her out, dropped her on the ground, and rolled her over the edge. Footprints in the ice plant show he may have slipped. The lab found green stains on her clothes, maybe ice plant."

"If it was Doppelgänger, he could have put Jennifer in his truck without moving her car," Harley said.

Shaking her head, Ross said, "Too risky driving around with a body in your open truck. It's too risky moving the body between cars and too much exposure on a busy street. If his parking space was gone when he returned, he could leave it anywhere without the body in it."

Harley nodded, and asked, "Why was she killed? Sam, her mother, and friends say everyone liked Jennifer?"

"Unplanned rage, accident," Ross said. "Pete said she didn't seem nervous Sunday night; she was just expecting someone. When he arrived, they could have had a fight about how to progress through the evening and she fell, or was pushed, against the bumper of her car. The M.E. indicated bruise marks on her upper arm. Caressing doesn't cause a bruise, anger does. Maybe Doc can give us the size of the hand."

Nodding, Harley said, "Okay, we have possible motive, opportunity, the weapon is the bumper, so the big question is who? Obviously, we have Doppelgänger and Sam, maybe Eugene. Willie and Pete were present, as well as a bar full of men, or anyone entering a parking lot with a beautiful, young woman standing alone in the dark. Did Marcus review the inside video to see if anyone left during the critical hour? Add it to your questions. Let's review these people individually."

Ross said, "Willie and Pete said they were both in the bar between 5:00 p.m. and 8:30 p.m. when Pete left. We don't know what time Eugene arrived, but he left at 7:45 p.m., so he's a possible."

Gazing at Ross, Harley said, "Doppelgänger. Except for the uncertain computer use, he had opportunity. Not much traffic between his house and Pete's on a Sunday night, so at max, a twenty-five-minute ride each way. He had a two-hour window, from 6:00 p.m. to 8:00 p.m. If he arrived at 6:30 p.m., he had nearly an hour until the camera began. Motive? Maybe she wanted dinner; maybe he expected more. He's certainly big enough to damage a young, slim woman. He was alone after midnight Sunday and Monday nights. He wouldn't have any trouble lifting her from the trunk Monday night."

After contemplating Harley's argument, Ross said, "There was no indication from the witnesses at the pier that they came on to each other. Just the opposite. If there was an attraction, why wait until Sunday night, when they had the whole day? Doppelgänger is a nice-looking man, but old enough to be her father. If he went out Sunday night with good intentions, he would have taken his bike, but the neighbor didn't hear him leave or return. The man on the video at Jennifer's car was smaller than Doppelgänger. The footprints in the ice plant were smaller than Doppelgänger's and made by a lighter man. He cooperated from the beginning, until we pursued him."

Harley said, "Think with your head, not your heart. You, yourself said he frightened you enough for you to run away from him." Ross looked away, but Harley continued, "Jennifer may have come on to him when she called at 6:00 p.m. Haven't you ever been attracted to an older man? If Doppelgänger dropped her before he stepped into the ice plant, the impression wouldn't be as deep. He had twenty-four hours to manipulate the photos he took Sunday morning, or as you say, it may have been a flare-up, which got out of control at Pete's. Be careful he doesn't manipulate Eugene's answers today."

"Yes Sir," she said. "How about Sam?"

"I'm afraid we've been a little light with Sam, because I was so intent on Doppelgänger," Harley said. "I was swayed by Sam's sincerity. I was wrong to ignore him. Sam also had plenty of opportunity, he fits the man in the video, he fits the shoe size in the ice plant, and he's hot headed. He and Jennifer have a history of fighting, often having instant blowups over minor disagreements. While you talk to Eugene, I'll see if the labs found any new information. We'll meet back here, and then go talk to Sam again."

***
Chapter 54

Friday, 1:30 p.m.-

Before Ross met Doppelgänger at 1:30 p.m. to interview Eugene, she picked up a group of photos and changed into casual clothes, as Dop instructed.

They met inside of Pete's, and Dop said, "Eugene's out back waiting for a hamburger. I warned him I'm bringing a friend who wants to meet him. Go easy and let me take the lead until we're settled in."

Ross nodded, and said, "Fine. Do I look okay?"

Inspecting her, Dop said, "Always, but appropriate for this meeting."

Doppelgänger led Ross outside with the burger, and asked her to stand near a car in the parking lot. He said, "Hey, Eugene. Ready for lunch?"

Eugene took the food, but eyed Ross, who tried to be as unimposing as possible. Sitting on the ground, he pulled the burger to his chest, lowered his head, and unwrapped it. Glancing at Ross, he nibbled the edge.

Dop's camera was hanging at his side, so he said, "Can I take your picture today?" Eugene frowned, and then Dop said, "Remember how I took pictures at the pier?" Eugene nodded. "I'd like you to be my model today, like the lady with the red hair. Can you do that?" Still frowning, Eugene glanced at Ross again, and nodded.

"Good," Dop said. "Show me how you eat your hamburger?" He nibbled more burger while Dop took his picture. Sitting on the ground and showing Eugene the monitor, Dop said, "Look here. The pictures move like on TV. Here's you eating your hamburger."

Eugene seemed surprised and touched the screen. Dop pointed the camera at Ross, and said, "Let's take pictures of the pretty lady. Smile and wave at us, Miss Ross. Can you wave at her, Eugene? That's great." Rewinding the video, Dop said, "Look here Eugene. This was the picture we took of Miss Ross. See her waving at us?" He nodded. "Is it okay if Miss Ross walks toward us and sits down while I take her picture?" Eugene frowned, and nodded slowly. Dop turned on the camera and said, "Walk toward us. Good. Wave. Come sit down."

Dop kept the camera going until Ross settled herself, rewound it, and showed the video to Eugene. "Is it a good picture?" Dop asked.

Eugene's eyes shifted between Ross and the camera, and his shoulders slumped forward while he shifted his position so he was a few inches further away from her. Dop said to Eugene, "Wave at Miss Ross and she'll wave back." Slowly Eugene complied, and Ross waved again and smiled. "Good. Miss Ross, say 'Hi' to Eugene," Dop said.

Slowly, Ross extended her hand and said, "Hi, Eugene. It's nice to meet you." Recoiling from her, he pulled his arms into his chest and turned away. She slowly retracted her hand, and said, "Maybe we can shake hands later after we know each other better." Eugene continued to frown, but relaxed.

While resting the camera, Dop said, "Sometimes the police talk to you don't they Eugene?" The frown deepened. "Sometimes they're nice, and sometimes not. Is that right?" His eyes shifted side to side and he dropped his head.

"Have you ever talked to a lady policeman?" Dop asked him. Slowly he shook his head. "Miss Ross is a police officer. Can you watch me take a picture while she shows you her shiny gold badge?" Shifting his eyes from Ross to the camera, Eugene nodded.

Dop turned on the video and said, "Slowly remove your sheriff's badge, Miss Ross. That's good. Okay if Eugene touches it?" She nodded. "Can you touch the pretty badge, Eugene?" Timidly, he tapped it with a finger, but jerked away.

"Good," Dop said. "Would you like Miss Ross to put it away?" Eugene nodded and the badge went into her pocket.

Eugene pointed at the camera, so Dop showed him the pictures. Realizing this would take a long time, Ross sighed, and Dop flashed a stern look at her. In reply, she smiled and nodded.

Addressing Eugene, Dop said, "Last Sunday I took pictures at the pier. Were you there?" He nodded. "If Miss Ross shows you some photographs, could you point to the people you saw?" Lowering his head and hunching his shoulders, Eugene looked at the ground. Dop said, "The pretty lady was hurt and we need your help. Will you help the pretty lady?" Slowly Eugene nodded. "Thank you. Miss Ross, show Eugene your pictures and ask simple questions, please. Eugene, I'm going to take pictures while you talk to Miss Ross." He nodded.

Once Dop started the video, Ross laid three photos on the ground and said, "Thank you for helping, Eugene. Can you talk to me in words?" Adamantly he shook his head. "Okay. Can you point to the picture of the lady who Mr. Doppelgänger photographed?"

Eugene frowned, and Dop said, "Call me Dop."

Nodding, Ross laid out three other photos and said, "Can you point to the picture of Dop?" He did, and Ross said, "Good. Can you point to Dop?" He did. "Good job, Eugene. You pointed to Dop and a picture of Dop, who I call Mr. Doppelgänger."

Returning to the pictures of women, Ross said, "Can you point to the picture of the lady who Dop photographed?" He did, and Ross said, "Thank you, you pointed to Jennifer Anisteadt. Did you know her name, Eugene?" He shook his head. "Did you see her leave the pier?" He shook his head. "When did you leave?" He frowned.

Dop said, "Yes and no questions."

Nodding, Ross asked, "Did you see Dop leave?" He nodded.

"Did you follow Dop on your bicycle?" He nodded.

Pointing to Pete's building, Ross asked, "Did you come here?" He nodded. "Did you stay until it was dark?" He nodded.

Showing him Jennifer's photo, Ross asked, "Did you see this lady here when it was dark?" He nodded. "Was she with a man?" He nodded. Pointing at Dop, she said, "Was the man Dop?" He shook his head.

Showing him several photos, she asked, "Can you point to the picture of the man who was here?" Holding her breath while Eugene examined the photos, he finally pointed to the photo of Sam.

Ross glanced at Dop, but said to Eugene, "Are you sure?" He nodded.

"Have you seen this picture before?" she asked. He shook his head.

"Thank you, Eugene. You're doing a good job. This is important, so be sure to think about your answer. Did the man touch Jennifer?" Frowning, he nodded.

"Did he hurt Jennifer?" Appearing ready to cry, slowly he nodded.

"Did Dop hurt Jennifer?" She asked. Adamantly, Eugene shook his head.

"Did her head hit the car?" He nodded. "Did you see blood?" With tears in his eyes, he nodded.

"Did the man put Jennifer inside a car?" He nodded.

"Did the man see you?" He shook his head.

"Let's talk about what the man wore. Did he wear jeans like Dop or regular pants like men in suits wear?" she asked. He pointed to Dop's jeans.

"Good," she said. "Did he wear sneakers like mine or boots like Dop?" He pointed to her sneakers.

"How about his shirt?" she said. "Did it have buttons down the front?" He shook his head. Tugging her shirt, she asked, "Was it a t-shirt like mine, but maybe a different color?" He nodded. Looking around the parking lot, she pointed and said, "That's a red car, a blue car, my shirt is white, the dirt is brown, and the leaves are green. If his shirt was one of those colors, could you point at it?" After examining each thing, he pointed to the blue car.

"Eugene, you did a good job. Thank you. I know you don't like to shake hands, but if I hold out my finger would you touch it to show me you are my friend?" After thinking a minute, he nodded his head. Ross extended her index finger, and waited. Eugene looked at her finger, her eyes, and back to her finger. Cautiously, he tapped her finger once and quickly pulled his hand to his chest. He held the finger with his other hand and gazed at Ross without fear.

She smiled at Eugene, and said, "I need to go back to work. Dop can stop taking pictures, but I would like to talk to him inside Pete's when he's done talking to you." Dop turned off the camera and nodded.

Slowly, Ross rose to her feet and looked down at Eugene. "Do you like chocolate?" He nodded. "I'll be right back." In a minute, she returned from her car with a candy bar and handed it to Eugene. He looked from the candy to her eyes, and then extended his finger. She smiled, touched it, and said, "You're welcome. Again, thank you for helping me. She flashed a smile at Dop and went inside Pete's to wait for Dop.

Inside, Ross called Harley and said, "Eugene identified Sam as the man who killed Jennifer."

Harley asked, "Do you think Doppelgänger coached him?"

Sighing, Ross said, "I don't think so. Doppelgänger videotaped the whole conversation with sound. You can judge for yourself. As soon as Doppelgänger brings in the camera, I'll come to the station. Our next stop is with Sam."

"Could Eugene do a line-up?" Harley asked.

"I doubt it," Ross said.

"If we go to court, can we use him as a witness?" Harley asked.

She said, "Not in court, but I made a connection with him, so maybe we could arrange something with a judge in private. Eugene might be comfortable at Doppelgänger's studio. He's extremely shy and wary. He won't speak, he'll only point, nod, or shake his head."

"Great," Harley said. "I warned the DA of a possible witness. I'll call him and ask for a warrant for Sam's apartment and we'll bring him in for questioning. If he doesn't fold, this is pretty weak. I'll push for DNA on the vomit at the cliff; maybe they can do that much. Ah, did Eugene know you are a cop?"

"Yes," she said. "I showed him my badge and he touched it on the video. Doppelgänger's amazing with people."

"Yea," Harley said. "He's an angel. Hurry back so we can get this done."

Dop entered the bar as Ross was pocketing her phone. He said, "Don't forget to turn it on. Harley will have a fit if he can't find you."

"Yes Mother," she said with a grin. "Thank you for your help; Eugene wouldn't talk to me without you."

"It was selfish," he said, "but also for Jennifer. It's sad it was someone she loved and trusted. I hope it was an accident and he panicked."

"Yea, but in the end she's still dead," Ross said.

Handing the camera to Ross, Dop said, "Take the whole camera. Marcus will know what to do with it. Good luck with Sam."

"Mr. Doppelgänger, did you coach Eugene?" Ross asked.

Dop sobered and said, "No. Can't you trust anyone?"

"If I don't ask, the defense will," she said.

Nodding, he said, "Sorry, you're right. It's not only knowing who did the crime, it's proving it. Can you use Eugene's information?"

"If we reveal we found an eyewitness, let's hope it's enough to get a confession without telling them it's Eugene," she said. "Thanks for your help and the camera," she said. "I need to get to the office with this. Good bye."

As Ross walked toward the door, Dop said, "By the way, I'm sending you the bill for all the candy bars I'll need to buy for Eugene." Without turning around, she signaled a thumbs-up.

***
Chapter 55

Friday, 3:00 p.m.-

At the Sheriff's office, Ross met Harley in the Photo Lab with Marcus. He loaded the video onto his computer and ran it for Harley. Afterwards, he brushed his fingers through his hair and said, "Whew, it's stretching believability. A first year defense attorney would tear him apart with the first question, if we could even get him in a courtroom. Make a CD Marcus, and we'll show this to the DA and a judge."

The DA didn't like the chances of winning the case in court using Eugene as a witness, but it might get a warrant. The judge waited for them to arrive with the CD for her to see before she signed the warrant to search Sam's apartment.

Linking her fingers, and resting her head on them, the judge said, "I've seen worse, but your chances are poor if this is your whole case. If this goes to trial, I'll allow a special deposition, if it's in my court. You've got your warrant for clothes, correspondence, and electronics."

Harley said, "Thank you, Your Honor."

*

Harley arranged for back up at Sam's apartment, but the black and white waited on the next street.

While they waited, Harley updated Ross. He said, "Marcus blew up the photos of the bumper of Jennifer's car at 7:30 p.m. when the camera came on. He could see dark smudges, which corresponded to the bloodstains. Two couples left Pete's between 7:15 p.m. and 7:30 p.m.; Marcus will try to trace them through credit cards. Forty-five minutes is plenty of time to fight, murder, and stuff a body in a car. We got the cell phone records and it turns out that Jennifer called Sam from the gas station before she called Doppelgänger. Sam lied about the phone call."

"Not good for Sam," Ross said.

Harley said, "I talked to the M.E. and he said the blood pool in the car indicates Jennifer was probably alive at least thirty minutes, but head injuries bleed a lot. It may have been an hour or two. She also had internal head injuries, which probably caused her death. The fibers in her nose matched the carpet in her trunk. The bruises around Jennifer's arm measured 8" from thumb to middle finger. How big is Doppelgänger's hand?"

Ross said, "At the studio, his hand was next to mine on one of the carvings. My hands aren't small, and his fingers were two inches longer than mine, so it would make about a twelve inch span."

"Thought so," Harley said. "Hold on, there's Sam pulling into the apartment. Let's give him five minutes to get inside."

*

At 6:00 p.m. Harley knocked on Sam's door. Sam paled when he saw the detectives. Harley said, "We have a warrant to look for clothes, correspondence, and electronics. Take a seat on the couch, Sam."

All Sam's clothes were clean, but they found a pair of sneakers with green stains on the soles and a dark blue, hoodie sweatshirt. They also found a journal in Jennifer's handwriting. Sam gave up his phone and Ross bagged it, as well as both laptop computers.

When Harley returned to the living room, Sam asked, "Am I under arrest?"

Pursing his lips, Harley said, "We're taking you into custody first to have a talk, and I'll read your rights. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you..."

Tears welled in Sam's eyes as Harley handcuffed him and led him to the car. Sam lay on the back seat crying and repeatedly muttered, "I'm sorry Jen, I'm sorry."

Harley escorted Sam to an interrogation room, and Ross took the shoes and sweatshirt to the lab for a preliminary comparison. Sam was still crying.

Harley called the D.A. and said, "This young man is shaken. What can we offer for a confession?"

The D.A. said, "Manslaughter. If we go to court, we'll go for Murder One, because he put her in the trunk to die. I'm on my way; don't give it up too soon. Maybe we can wrap this up today."

"Okay," Harley said.

Through swollen, red eyes, Sam watched Harley and Ross enter the room. Harley sat opposite Sam and said, "What happened to Jennifer?"

Still crying, Sam dropped his head onto his arms on the table, and said, "I didn't mean to hurt her. I loved her, but we fought more often lately. She wanted to party, and I didn't. I wanted to go home. I was holding her arm and she broke away and slipped. She hit her head. It was an accident; please believe me. I didn't push her; she fell." Sam began crying again.

"Why didn't you get help?" Harley asked.

"She was dead. I panicked. I didn't know what to do," Sam said.

"So, what did you do?" Harley asked.

Sam covered his mouth, looked at the ceiling, and then he said, "I put her in the trunk of her car until I could decide what to do. I was afraid someone would come out of Pete's."

"How did she get onto the beach?" Harley asked.

"I tried to do it Sunday night, but she was too stiff to get her out of the trunk. I moved the car and went back Monday night. I drove to the cliff and rolled her body over the edge. I'm sorry, Jen."

Harley pushed the photo of a man looking into the car trunk, and asked, "Is this you, Sam?"

Through tears, Sam said, "Yes. It was Sunday night. She was so cold and stiff. I forgot about rigor. I didn't know there were cameras." Brightening, he said, "The camera will show it was an accident."

Shaking his head, Harley said, "It didn't come on until 7:30 p.m."

Smirking, Sam said, "Then you don't know it was me."

Nodding, Harley said, "Yes we do. You told us, we have evidence, and we found an eyewitness. Ross talked to him today. He was in the back of the parking lot, and he identified your picture."

Slouching in the chair, Sam said, "Now what happens?"

Harley said, "We'll decide if we charge you with manslaughter or Murder One."

Straightening, Sam said, "Murder One? It was an accident. Jennifer slipped and hit her head. I didn't kill her."

"Yes you did," Harley said. "She was still alive when you put her in the trunk. The M.E. said she may have lived another two hours. If you called for help she might still be alive."

Shocked, Sam sat still, but then collapsed and cried, "Oh God, no. I'm sorry Jen. I thought you were dead. I really did. I deserve to die too."

The door opened and a man entered. He said, "Sam, I'm Matt Ryan, the D.A. We don't want to waste time with a trial; it would only prolong the inevitable. If you'll sign a confession tonight, we'll settle for Manslaughter. You've never been in trouble, so we'll talk to the judge about a reasonable sentence."

Sam agreed, signed a confession, and was booked into jail.

After they took Sam away, Ryan said, "I'll push this through as fast as I can before some hot shot young defense attorney talks Sam into a trial. We couldn't get the death penalty, but he might serve life for a mistake...if we won. Your bum isn't much of a witness."

"Eugene," Ross said.

Turning to Ross, Ryan said, "Pardon?"

Ross said, "The bum's name is Eugene, and he broke the case."

Facing her straight on, Ryan said, "Miss Ross, Eugene is not a reliable witness. Remember, I saw the video. The defense would shred him. If not, they would discredit the video because your other prime suspect set up the meeting and videotaped it. If Sam rescinds his confession, you have an unidentifiable man looking in the trunk of Jennifer's car and some green gunk on Sam's shoes. The rest is circumstantial. You'd better stick close to Harley; you have a lot to learn."

As Ryan left the office, Ross said to Harley, "He can't talk to me like that."

"Yes, he can," Harley said. "Our job is to investigate and gather evidence; his is to prosecute. He's been doing this a long time, and he knows what will go."

"So Sam could walk?" she asked.

"Yea," he said. "Ryan's right."

"What about Doppelgänger?" she asked.

"Even without Sam's confession, Doppelgänger didn't kill Jennifer. You can turn your heart loose," he said.

"My heart has nothing to do with this," she said.

"Yes it does," he said.

"Why do you say that?" she said.

"Because I saw it jump for joy." Turning to go home, Harley said, "Go home and decide what you want. Despite my prejudices, the two of you would make an interesting match. I'd like to watch the show."

"Wait." Harley turned and she said, "I have some vacation time on the books. I'd like to take a few days."

"Fine, leave the form on my desk and I'll turn it in," he said.

***
Chapter 56

Saturday, 8:00 a.m.-

The news Saturday morning, said Sam confessed to killing Jennifer in a fit of rage, but no one called to say he was free to leave town. Hell with them, Dop thought.

He called Tommy, and they rode to Orange County for the day. The wind on his face and body made him feel free, but not free enough. Caren Ross still haunted his thoughts and dreams. With this mess over, maybe he could forget her.

*

Saturday, 10:00 a.m.-

Saturday was a wasted day for Caren Ross. She wasn't use to free time. She drove to the pier, but she didn't see anyone she knew. Not interested in sunbathing, she drove south on the Coast Highway.

Dop's bike wasn't at Pete's Palace so she kept going. The little flea market was in full swing, so she parked and wandered through it. These were Dop's kindred souls; free spirits trying to make it in the world on their own terms. Some were successful; some struggled to provide bread and board. She bought fruit at the produce stand and remembered how Harley reacted to the plum stains on Dop's shirt.

She struggled when she reached Sultan's Beach, but finally drove by Dop's studio and the Gut Buster. No motorcycle. Half relieved, half disappointed, she continued south to Derby Point. She circled through the town three times before she drove past Dop's house. No bike. What the hell was she doing here?

At the deli, she bought a sandwich and took it to the beach. An hour later, she retraced her steps and went home. She tried to read, but couldn't get past the third page. Finally, she tried his cell phone, but it didn't answer. In bed, she had the same recurring dream of trying to escape a monster, who terrorized her at the same time he set her senses on fire.

*

Sunday morning- 9:00 a.m. -

Dop supposed they cleared him from the charges of killing Jennifer and he needed to get away. He liked to ride his bike north on US Hwy 395 from Southern California to Bishop and into the Mammoth Mountains. From there he went to Reno where his son lived. It was beautiful and peaceful this time of year. He might find colorful leaves in the mountains.

He left his packing to answer the doorbell. Ross stood on the welcome mat waiting for an invitation to enter his house, but Dop blocked her entrance by filling the doorway with his body as he leaned against the door jam. "You can't possibly have more questions, Ross," Dop said.

"Only one. May I come in to ask it?" she said.

He debated the wisdom of allowing this lady anywhere near his life, but he left the door open as he walked to the kitchen. Ross took it as an invitation, so she entered his house. Silently, he leaned against the countertop with arms folded across his chest and ankles crossed. He didn't need to deal with her now. He wanted to get away.

Looking at his packs, on the floor, she asked, "Are you going on a trip?"

"You came here to ask me if I am going on a trip? You could have done it on the phone and saved gas, or at least told me I'm free to go," Dop said. "Am I free to go?"

"Yes, of course," she said. "Sam confessed."

"Yea, I saw it on the news. I didn't hear it from the police or that I'm no longer a suspect. ..or am I?" he said.

"No," she said quickly, "you're not. We should have called, but actually, I tried to find you yesterday."

"To tell me I was free to go, or what else?" he asked.

Looking at the floor and frowning, she said, "I wanted to know if you hate me for arresting you."

"You were doing your job," he said.

"I didn't have a choice," she said.

"Sure you did. If you thought I was innocent, you could have refused," he said.

"I would have been fired. You know that," she said.

"So it was still your choice," he said.

"Dop, I'm a police officer. If we have reason to believe someone committed a crime, we arrest them, even if they're a friend," she said.

"A friend?" he said. "What makes you think we were friends? I was either a witness or suspect. We were never friends."

Taking a few steps toward him, she said, "There was a connection between us the day we met, especially the night in your studio. I felt it and I know you did."

Shaking his head, Dop said, "No, we have no connection, we live different lives. I live by my principles; you live by rules. I take a day at a time; you use a master plan each day."

She said, "I don't agree. I don't see a difference between principles and rules."

"Sure there is," he said. "I basically live by four principles. 1. Love everything and everyone you can. 2. Don't take what's not yours. 3. Try to leave the world a better place. 4. Make today the best it can be. I believe in living for today, yesterday is gone, you can't change it, and you can't mold tomorrow to your specific wants and needs.

Taking a step toward her, he said, "You're a cop, Ross. You belong to the law, to rules, thousands of them. Your focus is to see that others live by those rules, too. You decide if it's legal or illegal, if you can or can't, will or won't, do or don't. You live for everyone else, not yourself.

"We don't match," he said. "Initially, you must assume strangers are your enemies; I look for ways to bring out the good in people. A smile makes more friends than a gun does."

Ross spun away with tears in her eyes, and said, "That's not fair, Dop. At risk to myself, I've chosen to protect people. I can't have a laissez fare attitude or I'll be dead. I can't allow myself to trust anyone or any situation."

"I know and I understand," he said, "but I can't live that way and I can't live with that attitude in my daily life. You can't change and I won't change."

Moving slowly toward Dop, Ross said, "Isn't there someplace in-between? A common ground, at least occasionally?"

He recoiled when she placed her hand on his arm and he frowned as he gazed into her eyes. His voice was low and husky, as he said, "We live in different worlds, Ross. One or both of us would be miserable."

Realizing his breathing was deepening, Ross moved to him and pressed her body to his body. His resolve was fading fast from the feel of her soft, rounded femininity. Her arms circled his neck, his mouth reluctantly dropped to hers. As her tongue met his, he was afraid it was all over but the final thrust. His hands fell to her behind and lifted her to meet his instant readiness. She felt the bulge as she hung suspended, eagerly ready for the next step, which she hoped would be his bedroom.

"Take me," she murmured.

Abruptly, he pushed her away, and answered, "I don't know which way you mean 'take me', whether it's sex or my trip, but the answer to both is no. I can't get involved with a cop. It won't work. Besides the cop thing, no woman would share my life. I make my living taking pictures of nude women and using them as live models for my mermaids. I touch their real bodies; I touch their wood bodies with my tools and my hands. I do it in my garage. What woman will stand in my kitchen cooking dinner, while I'm thirty feet away, behind closed doors, with a naked woman? Could you?"

Blinking away her tears, Ross said, "I don't know."

"You couldn't," he said. "It's not a matter of being legal, because it is. It's a matter of being a woman and allowing her man to be with another woman; one who's as naked as the day she was born. Go home, Ross, I've gotta get on the road."

Outside, Ross stood near his bike as he loaded his gear. Dop zipped his jacket, fastened the strap of his helmet, swung his leg over the seat of his bike, and fired it to life with a roar. Setting his jaw in defiance, he gave Ross one last glance before he sped towards the freeway.

No one ever turned her down so abruptly, in all her life. She was used to rejection when men discovered she was a cop, but they usually made some excuse for not seeing her again. They were gentle drops, not a kerplunk on the tender fanny he'd just held in his hands.

Looking at the street Dop evacuated, Ross became angry with herself for her blunder. She turned, walked to her car, kicked the tire, and went home. She was so mad; she drove the beach road, because she was afraid she might succumb to road rage too easily on the freeway. She did not intend to face anyone in the real world, so she threw her clothes in a pile and put on a long t-shirt, which barely covered her panties. She poured a cold beer and plopped on the couch to seethe at Dop's crassness. Half way through her first beer, her doorbell rang, which she ignored. The third ring became fierce, so she slammed the beer bottle on the table, and yelled, "God-damn-it, leave me alone." She jerked open the door to find Dop smirking at her. "You didn't humiliate me enough today?" she said. "Did you come back to drive the nail in further? I know, you remembered a few words you missed."

He pushed past her, slammed the door, dropped his gear, and yanked her mouth and half-naked body to his. When they stopped long enough to breathe, he said, "Yes to both. I'll take you now and take you with me tomorrow morning. If we hate each other when we get to Reno, I'll put you on a plane home, deal?" Bewildered, she nodded. "By the way, I like the outfit, except for the undies." He reached under the t-shirt and ripped them off.

"If you'd asked, I'd have removed them," she said.

"Not as efficient," he said.

"Then you buy another if you break it; I'm not rich," she said.

"Naw, we'll do without," he said and reached for her shirt.

"I'll do the shirt. I like it," she said.

Running a finger over her bare, warm skin, he said, "Doesn't matter, you won't need it again, and do I hear a yes to the first offer or are you rescuing your clothes?"

Ross pulled his shirt over his head, and ran both hands over his chest, and muscled shoulders saying, "Nice, I like, and yes to the first offer." She reached for the button on his jeans, but he lifted her in his arms and gently deposited her on her bed while exploring her mouth with his tongue. "My only rule is...there are no rules, okay?" he said. Ross nodded as she encircled his waist with her legs and pulled his mouth to hers.

Holding her butt in his big hands, he rolled over so she was on top of him, her breasts crushed to his chest. His hands caressed her soft white flesh until he slid his fingers over her hips and he found the hot spot between her legs. She reared back, shouting, "Oh God, don't stop. Never stop."

He laughed, and said, "Go Baby, show me what you can do."

She screamed and fell back onto his chest, nipping his skin, his nipples, and his belly button above his belt buckle. When she tackled the job of loosening the buckle, he pulled her hands away. She rubbed the crotch of his jeans and said, "I want you."

"Not yet," he said.

Still working on his bulging pants, as he moaned, she said, "Why not?"

He straddled her and said, "I'm not done with you yet." He attacked her mouth again, downward to each breast, her belly button, the triangle of curls, and onward to mingle his saliva with her hot juices. Screaming, she rose to his mouth until she could hold back no longer.

Kneeling above her, he flipped open his belt; unfastened the button, and eased his jeans over his legs and feet like a snake shedding its skin. He dropped them on the floor at the end of the bed. The boots took minutes too long. He eyed the purple sugar bowl, and said, "Your pick. You know what's in it."

When he reached her mouth, she said, "Take me, Dop. Take me to the moon, the stars, the galaxy." Above her, he stroked her waiting moisture with his engorged extension. "Now," she said, but he laughed softly as she wiggled to meet him. He barely entered and pulled back, repeated the action, entering a little further each time, until she was completely filled and begging, "Now, now." Together they exploded in unison, exploded into a world only passionate hunger knew.

Hours later, they slept in each other's arms until the morning sun woke Ross with a start.

"Oh God, I'm late to work; Harley will kill me." When she moved toward the edge of the bed, Dop grabbed her arm and pulled her against his warm body.

"Tell him you're on vacation, or is the second half of 'take me' a no? I'm on the road in two hours, with or without you. I came back for you. Are you with me?" he asked.

Remembering she was on vacation, she relaxed in his arms. He rolled to face her, and said, "Ross, there are no commitments, no promises on this trip. We're two adults on an adventure. It may be the beginning, or it might be the end. Come with me. Forget the rules just once. Let go and enjoy the moment."

Two hours later, they sped down the highway...together.

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Finis.

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Thank you for your support and I hope you enjoyed reading my story.

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Thank you to Dorothy Danielson for the use of her cover photograph.

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Mikal's Web Trilogy ( $2.99 each )

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FOREST FAIRIES, (Free)

Mikal's Web Trilogy, Book #1

Mikal vies to win Suzy's heart from Jesse with covert offerings, attempting to lure her to his web. Suzy vows to uphold her basic values and promises to errant Jesse. Jesse has demons to face throughout his lifetime that interfere with the relationship he wants with Suzy. She must decide which man owns her love and loyalty. The winner loses, and the loser wins. (2011)

Free Quilt Pattern

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UP THE IVORY STAIRCASE, ($2.99)

Mikal's Web Trilogy, Book #2

Mikal returns, and everywhere Jesse turns, he faces the ghost of Suzy's relationship with Mikal, even though she vows he is in her past. The three paths cross repeatedly, causing rifts in their marriage and Jesse's rising career. Eventually Jesse must face his demons to save everything he cherishes, while Suzy fights Mikal's web she thought she escaped. (2011)

Free Quilt Pattern

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BROKEN BY AN ANGEL, ($2.99)

Mikal's Web Trilogy, Book #3

The final story in the relationships of Mikal, Jesse, and Suzy. New friendships and old loves are tested. Jesse believed he conquered his demons when he and Mikal put their pasts away, but the biggest demons are yet to come. These not only threaten his family, and lifestyle, but his whole inner being. Mikal's web is not the only web holding Jesse to his past. (2012)

Free Quilt Pattern (2012)

https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/MLDanielson

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Three more stories from

Mary Lou Danielson:

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LULU ($.99)

Billy inherits his grandmother's house, barn, and property. Along with the house, he inherits Lulu, the southern belle tenant, who turned the house into a Victorian tearoom. Lulu has eyes for Billy, but Billy has eyes for Terri, the aloof bartender, at the tavern down the road. A constant discord occurs between Billy and Lulu, as he installs a working cabinet shop in the old barn, which stands in near proximity to the prissy, tearoom.

Free Quilt Pattern

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SOMETHING TO LOOK AT ($.99)

Goals, friendship, tragedy, and sacrifice, all cement, or deter, Peggy and Bobby's relationship. Bobby's earliest dream is to be a major league pitcher. Peggy, his grade school friend, becomes his unofficial pitching coach and mentor as he pursues his goal. Goals, friendship, tragedy, and sacrifice, all cement, or deter, Peggy and Bobby's relationship. They both learn you must accept your adversities and go beyond them.

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THE COWBOY (Free)

After a chance meeting with a cowboy, Marcie discovers appearances can be deceiving.

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Meet Dominik Doppelgänger.

Master photographer, master carver, unintended sleuth, and lover.

He did not intend to become an assistant police photographer to help solve crimes. Because of his anti-establishment attitudes, the cops aren't his favorite people.

He wants to ride his bike, make art, and make love.

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DUMB GANGER ($2.99)

Doppelgänger Mysteries #1

What began as a beautiful Sunday morning ended in a nightmare for Dominik Doppelgänger. His beautiful, young model disappears and he becomes the prime suspect in her murder. Photography proves his innocence, or guilt.

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Thank you for your support.

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