The Assignment
A pin could drop, and it would sound like a cannon going off. The silence in the room was that pronounced. Only the light breathing of the two people seated in leather-upholstered chairs could be heard, if you listened close enough.
Amanda’s heart pounded so hard, she was sure anyone could hear it. With nothing better to do, she glanced around the office, studying the décor. She needed something to distract her thoughts. There really wasn’t much to look at. An ornate framed painting hung on one wall. A bookshelf crammed with books covered another wall. She didn’t bother trying to make out the titles. Considering the owner, she knew none of them would interest her. Nothing personal on the desk, no photographs of loved ones. In fact, the room gave no clue to the identity of the occupant. Except for the gold nameplate, with fancy lettering, perched on the front of the huge oak desk. Austin Smyth.
Warm fingers clasped hers, and she looked deep into the eyes of her husband. Neither of them said a word. Mainly because they didn’t put it past Smyth not to have his own office bugged. Each of them had thought they were over all the hurdles that their public marriage had caused. Despite her anxiety, Lee’s firm grip on her hand kept her from running frantically out of the office. His reassuring gaze steadied her nerves. They didn’t need words to communicate. Sometimes actions spoke more loudly than anything else.
Suddenly the door opened, and Smyth entered and took his seat behind the desk. He leaned over the top, placing his elbows on the gleaming surface, and steepled his fingers. “Fiddle dee dee. The Scarecrow and the housewife bee. Well, well, Cinderella and Prince Charming, how are things in the castle?”
At Smyth’s words, Amanda felt Lee clutch her hand harder. If she didn’t speak up first, he would, and she didn’t want him to start an argument because of Smyth’s ridiculous usage of nursery rhymes and fairy tales.
She sat up straighter. “We’re fine, sir.”
Smyth leaned back in his chair, pulled a gold cigarette case from his jacket pocket, and drew out a cigarette. He lit it with a matching lighter and inhaled deeply, before blowing a stream of smoke toward them.
Amanda covered her nose and coughed.
He looked at his cigarette and then at her. “Does this bother you?”
“Yes.” She waved her hand in front of her to disperse the smoke.
At that moment, Lee spoke up. “You could have some consideration for others.”
In response, Smyth narrowed his eyes and took another drag on his cigarette, the end glowing bright red.
“Why did you call us here? Let’s get on with this.”
“Patience, Scarecrow. All good things come to those who wait.”
A knock sounded on the door.
“See, you didn’t have to wait too long.” Smyth gestured toward the door. “Enter.”
Billy Melrose entered the office.
“You’re late. Did you get burnt jumping over the candlestick?” Smyth tapped his ashes into a crystal ashtray.
Billy shrugged, then handed Amanda and Lee a file folder and sat down. “I had to--”
“No more namby pamby talk. Time to get to business.” Smyth ground out his cigarette. “You have the details. I want this fixed. I’ll leave you to tell them all the gory details, Melrose. Knick knack, paddy whack, this man has a plane to catch.” He rose from his chair. “Scarecrow, I expect you and the little lady here to put the ghost to rest, once and for all.”
The door closed behind him.
“Don’t let the door hit you in the ass on your way out,” Lee mumbled.
A huge grin appeared on Billy’s face, before he let out a loud belly laugh.
“What the hell was he talking about, Billy?” Tossing the file to the floor, Lee bolted out of his chair and raked his fingers through his hair. “Sometimes I want to strangle that man!”
Billy let out a long breath. “Get in line. But we really do have a situation here. And, in the long run, it’ll benefit the both of you.”
Amanda tugged on Lee’s arm. “The least we can do is find out what’s going on.”
He sat back down. “Okay. I’ll bite.”
“I think I should start at the beginning. It seems J. Edgar’s ghost has returned to haunt us.” Billy grimaced. “Well, not us. Just one of us.”
“I thought when we arrested Nick Cross everything had been accounted for and the ghost had been laid to rest.”
“We thought so, too, Lee.”
“I wonder how Agnes is doing since she retired,” Amanda muttered, remembering the timid librarian Nick Cross had victimized.
“She’s fine, Amanda. I talked to her an hour ago. She’s opened a little bed and breakfast in Maine.”
“I’m happy for her, sir. I’m surprised she didn’t keep in touch.” Though, deep in her heart, Amanda knew that Agnes wanted to break all ties with her life in D.C. She’d thought she was in love and that Nick loved her in return. When she found out he’d used her, she’d helped get the rest of the files and photographs destroyed, then left the Agency without another word.
“Who’s in trouble?” she asked.
“Smyth.”
Lee jumped out of the chair again. “I’m not helping that man get out of anything.”
“Sweetheart, sit down. Regardless of our feelings, he is our superior. We have to take whatever assignment the Agency gives us. We fought hard against him to stay partners. Let’s not give him an excuse to separate us.”
“Listen to your wife, Lee. And trust me. You’ll both enjoy this assignment in the long run.”
Lee paced the floor, the muscle in his jaw twitching. As he passed her the third time, Amanda grabbed his arm. “Please, sit down.”
He caressed her cheek with his fingertips. “Okay.”
“Then let’s get started, shall we?” Billy picked up the fallen folder from the floor and handed it to Lee.
Amanda opened the file in her lap, and a picture of a distinguished-looking elderly gentlemen stared back at her.
Billy pointed to the photo. “That’s Josiah Maitland, ex-FBI agent. Years ago, when Hoover was at the pinnacle of his power, Maitland was one of the top echelon at the Bureau, who reported only to him. After Hoover’s death, he retired and bought a small hotel on the outskirts of Baltimore.”
“How do he and Smyth fit together?” Lee asked.
“I’m getting to that. It seems during their younger years, Smyth and Maitland hung out together. They became good friends. Ran in the same circles, joined the same clubs. You get the drift. During some of their forays, photographs were taken at the parties and events both men attended, and said pictures ended up in J. Edgar’s secret files. A week ago, a photograph was sent to Smyth from Josiah, along with a note. On the back was written, ‘Do you remember the name of the girl? Call me, we need to talk about old times.’”
Billy rifled through his file and handed Lee a photograph.
Amanda gasped. The photo showed a naked woman on her hands and knees, a collar around her neck with a chain attached. A man stood behind her, smiling, holding the leash in one hand and a cigarette in the other. The man was none other than Austin Smyth. A younger version. But Smyth nonetheless.
Lee burst out laughing. “About time someone has something on the old geezer. He’s made our lives a living hell. Turnabout’s fair play.”
“According to Smyth, they’re fakes.”
“Of course that’s what he’d claim.” Lee sneered, slouching in his chair.
“Doesn’t look fake to me.” Amanda turned the photo over, not wanting to look at it anymore.
“Smyth said Josiah was well known as a great jokester and that age would not change his sense of humor. He stated several times whatever pictures Josiah had of him were doctored.”
“Wait a minute.” Lee jerked upright, raising his hand. “Did you say pictures? With an ‘s’? There’s more than one?”
“Supposedly. Maitland claims to have numerous photographs of Smyth in compromising positions.”
“Blackmail?”
“We don’t know, Lee. Nothing about money was mentioned in the note. Just wanting to talk. You can read almost anything into it.”
“Why didn’t Dr. Smyth call his old friend, sir?”
“He did. All he could get out of him was that he had more photos hidden, that he had a total of twelve, and he’d give them to Smyth when they met. And that Smyth would find them hysterical. It seems he wanted to catch up on old times and brag about all he’d accomplished in his later years. From what Smyth told me, Maitland was proud of his hotel renovations and wanted to show them off to him. He planned to give him a grand tour when he visited. And, in my own opinion, I think the man is lonely. He misses the good ole days.”
“Did they meet?” she asked.
“No. Maitland suffered a stroke the next day; he’s now in a coma at Bethesda General.”
“Oh, dear.” No matter who the man was she didn’t want him to be in that condition.
“So send the ‘janitors’ to search his home and the problem’s solved. Why involve us?” Lee fingered the photo.
“Easier said than done. Maitland lived at the hotel.”
“I don’t understand.” Amanda couldn’t fathom why that would have a bearing on searching his room.
“Maitland did have a set of rooms at the hotel. But it seems that he enjoyed staying in all of them, at one time or another. He could’ve hidden the pictures anywhere,” Billy explained.
“Then send in an undercover cleaning crew.” Lee supplied an answer.
“We are. But we have to search everywhere--the kitchen, dining area, swimming pool, gym, garage, and lobby. All the common areas. Maitland is a hands-on owner. It’ll take weeks to canvass them thoroughly. And we can’t go in and shut the place down.”
“Why not? We’ve done it before.”
“Smyth’s orders. He doesn’t want anyone to know the Agency’s involved.”
“Then what are we supposed to do?” Lee rose, walked around the back of Amanda’s chair, and placed his hands on her shoulders.
“We’re sending in a four-person team. Leatherneck’s going to join the maintenance staff. Francine will be working at the front desk. She’ll do a search of the offices and lobby and be your contact.”
“Our contact, Billy?” His hands began to massage her shoulders.
“Yes. This is the part you’re both going to enjoy.” Billy grinned. “You and Amanda are going in as newlyweds on a belated honeymoon.
Lee’s caresses stopped. “A working honeymoon? I don’t see how either of us would find that enjoyable.”
“This hotel is special. All the rooms are themed.”
A spark of recognition dawned on Amanda. She’d read about a hotel in the Baltimore area that had recently gone through a huge renovation. “Is the hotel you’re talking about the ‘Romantic Dreams Inn’?”
Lee moved and perched on the front of Smyth’s desk. “Have you heard of it?”
“I think so.”
Billy rummaged through the file folder, pulled out a brochure, and handed it to her. “Is this it?”
She scanned it, turning the pages, intrigued by each and every glossy picture. “Yes.”
“There’s a flaw in this assignment. We can’t spend weeks searching the hotel.” Lee crossed his arms. “I’d like to see how Smyth is going to justify all the expenses.”
“That’s his problem, and it won’t take that long. There’re only nine rooms at the moment. The others are still under renovation, and that’s where Leatherneck comes in as a maintenance employee. He’ll search all of those. You’re booked under one of the honeymoon packages. One night each in a different room. It’s called the ‘Fantasy Honeymoon.’”
Amanda stood and handed Lee the brochure showing photos of the rooms available. “They have ‘Northern Lights’, ‘Caesar’s Court’, ‘Le Cave’, ‘Dracula’s Lair’, ‘Wild, Wild West’, ‘Manoir …rotique’, ‘Pirates of the Caribbean’, ‘Oriental Pleasures’, and ‘Cupid’s Corner.’”
Lee’s eyes lit up. “All we have to do is search each room for the photographs, then the rest of the night is ours? To do with as we please?”
“Yes.” Billy winked. “Unless one of you is successful in finding all the pictures. Each day you’ll report to Francine for your next room assignment and apprise her of your findings. She’ll inform you if she or Leatherneck found anything. If all of them haven’t been located, she’ll give you the key to your next fantasy. Now go home and pack. Your check-in time is five o’clock.”
Lee hopped off the edge of the desk and grabbed Amanda’s hand. “Let’s go get packed.”
TBC at the “Romantic Dreams Inn”
Story Notes:
Disclaimer: Scarecrow and Mrs. King and its characters belong to WB and Shoot the Moon Productions. No infringement is intended. This is written for entertainment purposes only. Please do not redistribute or reproduce this story without our permission.
Thanks: Rita and Miss Edna and to anyone else who helped us with this story that has been in the works for what seems like years. Also, special thanks to Wendi our continuity expert.
Thanks: Rita and Miss Edna and to anyone else who helped us with this story that has been in the works for what seems like years. Also, special thanks to Wendi our continuity expert.