BAITED BREATH

BAITED BREATH Part 9

Bree rubbed her tired eyes. Since the gala, she and her parents had taken turns monitoring surveillance of the front entrance of Bronwell's building. Her father felt certain the police would eventually connect the dots linking Jerry Salem Bronwell to Jerusalem Brown and search Bronwell's office.

From reading Tom's copious notes regarding his suspicions, they learned about Jerusalem Brown's uncanny ability to disappear into thin air near the Bronwell headquarters. Bree and John followed in his footsteps to a mundane piece of artwork on the grounds. True to Tom's excellent investigative skills, they discovered it hid a secret entrance into Bronwell's private office.

Bree shifted uncomfortably, remembering her mother's sorrow for Tom's death and fear for her safety. "I won't allow it, Bree Ann. Tom followed his nose to that horrid man's building and now he's dead."

Bree cast an exasperated glance at her father. "Mom, I killed the horrid man. This is our chance to help the police solve Tom's murder. Tell her, Dad."

John gave Bree a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. "Dear, I don't see how Bree could be in any danger now. Tom sent us this file for a reason. We wouldn't be honoring his memory to ignore all these leads he developed."

In spite of their reasoning, Ann refused to consent to the plan. That night Bree, with her father standing sentry next to a mirror feature in the wee hours, in constant communication by cell phone, had defiantly explored more secret spaces within the building itself.

"Forty-eight years old and the first time I've snuck out of the house," John joked on the drive back home.

"Good luck getting back in without getting caught." Bree gave him a conspiratorial wink.

The next morning John had walked up and down the street hanging lost dog flyers on light poles. City workers ripped the signs down but didn't notice a miniature camera at knee level across the street from the Bronwell building. Ann and Bree had disguised the device to look like a daffodil nestled among the early spring blooms in a conveniently placed flower planter.

Every time someone walked past the front door, it snapped a picture and beamed the image to a laptop that had taken up a permanent position at the kitchen table. John had reprogrammed the receiver to differentiate between pedestrian activity and motorists whizzing by when the software constantly reported movement.

She topped off her coffee cup and sat back down just as a spate of electronic tones alerted her that the camera had activated. Even at a distance, she recognized Detective Vonn's upturned nose and freckled cheeks..

"Mom," she shouted, "the police are entering the Bronwell building. I need you to drive me over there right now."

Ann, clutching a dust rag, hurried into the kitchen from the living room. "Are you going like that, dear? As yourself?"

"Yes. I'm representing Tom today. Let's go." She gulped her coffee, shoved Tom's flash drive into her jeans pocket, and shrugged into her gray fleece jacket.

                                                                                      ***

Ann pulled up to the curb at Baptist National Headquarters on Paddington, and Bree hopped out. "Go back home, Mom. I'll be okay."

She crossed the street, stopped at a large mirrored cube at the corner, and pretended to look at her reflection. Each side distorted the image in a different manner, making people appear taller, short and squatty, round, or wavy. Making sure no one was about, she circled to the back of the device, pressed a button disguised as a bolt, and entered the cube.