The Sam Prichard Series - Books 9-12 (Sam Prichard Boxed Set 3)

by David Archer

  The phone in the room woke him a few hours later, and he reached out to grab the handset. “Hello?”

  “Sam? It’s Kathleen,” he heard, and instantly became alert as he heard what sounded like panic in her voice. “Is Harry over there?”

  Sam glanced around the room quickly, then turned back to the phone. “No,” he said, “why? Isn’t he there?”

  “No, he left about an hour and a half ago because we forgot to get in some cigars while we were out,” she said, “and said he’d be right back, but Sam—I just got a call on my cell from the police. Michael’s been murdered!”

  15

  “Did you try his cell phone?” Sam asked, his mind and heart both racing.

  “Yes, but he left it here. Sam, I’m worried. You don’t think he…”

  “No, I don’t,” Sam said. “If Harry had wanted Michael dead, he never would have come to me. Did he take the car?”

  “I don’t know. I—I just know he said he was going to get cigars, so I would imagine he had to drive somewhere. Sam, the police are coming here to talk to me, what do I do?”

  “I’ll be right there,” Sam said. “Hopefully, Harry will show up and we can get this sorted out.”

  “Okay,” Kathleen said. Sam hung up the phone and grabbed his cell while quickly getting dressed again. He hit the speed dial button for Indie and she answered on the second ring.

  “Babe, we’ve got problems,” he said. “Harry’s gone AWOL and we just found out that Michael has been murdered.”

  “Oh, God,” Indie said. “Sam, you don’t think Harry would…”

  “That’s what Kathleen just asked me, but no, I don’t think so, but she said Harry went out a while ago to get some cigars, and hasn’t been back. The police contacted her on her cell phone and are on the way to talk to her now. I’m guessing he had to take our rental car; is there any way you can track it? Don’t those rental car companies put GPS in all of them nowadays?”

  “Some of them do,” she said. “Which company did you use?”

  Sam told her, and could hear her tapping on her computer’s keyboard. “No, unfortunately they don’t. Let me see if I can get a ping on his cell phone.”

  “Don’t bother,” Sam said, “he left it in the room. Babe, I’ll call you back in a bit, I better get over next door before the police show up.”

  “Okay,” Indie said, “but, Sam? Beauregard said something bad was going to happen down there, and that you were going to need me here in order to help. I can’t help but think this might be it.”

  Sam grumbled under his breath. “Yeah,” he said. “I think it probably has to be.”

  He ended the call and left his room, then tapped on the door to Harry’s. Kathleen opened it instantly and stepped back to let him in, just as the elevator chimed its arrival. Sam looked toward it, and was relieved to see Harry step out and head toward the room. He had a paper bag in his hand and a smile on his face.

  “Harry, where the hell have you been?” Sam asked, and Harry’s smile vanished instantly.

  “The nearest decent cigar store is way across town,” he said. “Why? What’s going on?”

  “Kathleen got a call on her cell from the police. Michael’s been murdered.”

  The look of utter surprise on Harry’s face was convincing, but Sam couldn’t help remembering that Harry had played many roles in his life. In his short stint as an international agent a year or so before, Sam had learned that acting ability was a prerequisite of the profession. While he didn’t actually believe Harry would have murdered Michael at this point, his investigative mind automatically identified him as the most likely suspect.

  “What? When?”

  “I’m sure we’ll find out shortly,” Sam said. “The police should be here about any minute. I was just coming over to wait with Kathleen, but we’ve been going nuts wondering where you were.”

  Harry hurried along and Sam moved to let him into the room first. He tossed the bag onto the bed and immediately put his arms around Kathleen.

  “First, are you okay?” he asked her.

  “Harry, I don’t know what to think,” she said. “You didn’t—you didn’t go back there, did you?”

  “No, I did not. That was going to be the second thing I said.” He turned and looked at Sam. “What do we do, Sam?”

  Sam had entered the room and shut the door behind him. He picked up the bag Harry had tossed on the bed and dumped it out. Five thick cigars landed on the bed, and Sam looked up at Harry. “Where’s the receipt?”

  Harry shrugged. “I paid cash, I don’t think I got one.”

  “Okay, what was the name of the store? We need to be able to establish exactly when you were there, just in case Michael was killed while you were gone.”

  “It was Clearwater Pipe and Cigar, on McMullen Booth Road. Like I said, all the way across town.”

  Sam snatched out his phone and googled the number, then dialed it immediately. A man’s voice answered.

  “Hi,” Sam said, trying to mimic Harry’s drawl. “I was there just a bit ago, and I think I may have dropped my wallet. I’m an old white-haired fellow with a goatee, you remember me?”

  “Um, not really,” the man said. “How long ago were you here? I mean, like, I’ve been really swamped all day today.”

  “Oh, it would’ve been in the last forty-five minutes or so. I look like a skinny Colonel Sanders, are you sure you don’t remember?”

  “Nah, I’m sorry, dude. I get so many people in here I just can’t remember faces too well. And I haven’t seen any wallets lying around. Are you sure you didn’t drop it somewhere else?”

  Sam sighed. “Maybe I did,” he said. “Thanks, anyway.”

  He turned to Harry. “Sounds like a young kid, and maybe smoking something other than tobacco. He says he doesn’t remember you.”

  Harry shrugged. “The place was pretty busy,” he said, “and he was running it all by himself. I frankly would have been surprised if he did. Still, I shouldn’t be needing an alibi, should I?”

  “Of course not,” Kathleen said. “You were here with me the whole time.”

  Harry turned and looked at her. “Darling, while I appreciate the vote of confidence, I will not have you lying to the police. I didn’t kill Michael and I haven’t been anywhere near him since we left that house this morning, so there shouldn’t be any problem. We’ll just wait and see…”

  There was a tap on the door, and Sam turned to open it. A casually dressed man stood there, holding a police ID case out in front of him. “I’m Detective Lawton, Clearwater PD. I’m looking for Kathleen Reed.”

  “Yes,” Sam said, “please come in. She’s right here.”

  Lawton looked at Sam for a moment. “And you would be?”

  Sam reached into his pocket for his badge case and showed his ID. “My name is Sam Prichard,” he said, “and I’m a licensed private investigator from Denver, Colorado.” He turned and pointed to Harry. “This is Mr. Harry Winslow, he’s my client.”

  Lawton glanced at Sam’s ID, then at Harry before turning back to Kathleen. “Mrs. Reed?” he asked as he entered the room. “I’m Detective Jerry Lawton. I called you a bit ago about your husband.”

  “Yes, Detective,” Kathleen said. “How can I help you?”

  Lawton cocked his head and looked at her. “Well, first, you could tell me why you seem pretty calm about your husband’s death,” he said bluntly. “You told me on the phone that the two of you were separated and getting a divorce, but you certainly don’t seem to be very troubled by learning that he was murdered.”

  Kathleen looked him in the eye. “My husband and I have not been close for some time, Detective, though we’ve only just agreed to divorce. Can I ask what happened?”

  Lawton watched her face for a few seconds more, then nodded. “Couple hours ago, we got a call from one of his neighbors saying they’d heard gunshots coming from the house. A unit responded and found the front door partially open. They knocked and announced themselves but r
eceived no response, so they entered the house and found Mr. Reed on the kitchen floor, surrounded by blood. One of the officers felt for a pulse, but that’s when they realized that he had apparently been shot through the head. I was called out and put on the case, and I called you immediately to find out if you were all right.”

  Despite her statement of a moment earlier, Kathleen went pale and put a hand to her face. “I’m fine,” she said. “I left the house with these gentlemen about mid-morning and haven’t been back yet. My agreement with my husband was that I would return one day next week to start packing my things.”

  “Wait a minute,” Lawton said. “Are you saying you and your husband decided on divorce today?”

  Kathleen nodded grimly. “Yes,” she said. “There’s a very long story behind it, but I suspect it’s all going to come out now.” She looked at Harry. “Perhaps we should give him the short version for the moment?”

  “As you wish, my dear,” Harry said. He turned to Lawton. “Detective, I’ll arrange to show my bona fides a little later, but I am a retired agent of the United States government. Thirty years ago this lady was my wife, but we were each led—by the man you know as Mr. Reed, I might add—to believe the other was dead. Reed convinced her that she and her children were in danger, and helped her to hide and change her identity. He kept her from learning the truth and they eventually married. I learned of this only in the last few days, and hired Mr. Prichard to help me find her. We arrived at their home this morning, at which time Mr. Reed held us at gunpoint until we reached an agreement involving his retention of all of their marital assets. At that point we left the house and came here.”

  Lawton’s face was a study in incredulity. He stared at Harry for a moment, then turned his eyes to Sam. “Is this for real?” he asked.

  Sam nodded slowly. “He’s told you the exact truth,” Sam said. “The man you know as Michael Reed was actually born Michael Watkins. He and Mr. Winslow worked together in the intelligence field thirty years ago, but Watkins seems to have had some feelings for Mrs. Winslow. While Mr. Winslow was out of the country on a clandestine mission, Watkins convinced Mrs. Winslow that he had been killed and that foreign agencies knew who she was and were a danger to herself and her children. She can fill you in on the details, but he took her to Brazil for several years and helped her to build a new identity. Later, he brought them back to the United States and began building his yacht business. About a year and a half ago, Mr. Winslow and I were instrumental in stopping a terrorist attack out West, and he made the news. Mrs. Reed learned at that point that he was alive, and that created tensions between her and Watkins, or Reed, as you know him. All of this came to a head when Harry found out she was alive, and we showed up at their house this morning.”

  Lawton’s mouth was hanging slightly open. “And now Reed is dead. I’m pretty sure you can understand how this whole thing looks to me, at the moment, right?”

  Sam sucked in his bottom lip and nodded his head slowly. “I’m quite sure I can,” he said. “However, you should be aware that Mr. Watkins, or Mr. Reed, was still doing some work for the National Security Agency. I’m quite sure there were a number of people who would’ve wanted him dead. Considering the fact that Mr. Winslow had his wife back, I have my doubts that he would be on that list at this moment.”

  Lawton looked from Sam to Harry and back. “And I’m quite certain you’re going to tell me that Mr. Winslow has been here with you the whole time, right?”

  “Actually, no,” Harry interrupted. “Kathleen and I went and did a little shopping earlier, and then I actually just returned to the hotel from a trip across town to purchase some cigars. Kathleen and Sam remained here while I did so.”

  Lawton whipped around to look at him. “How long ago did you leave the hotel?” he asked.

  Harry gave him a sad grin. “I’d say I was gone about an hour and a half,” he said. “I had looked up the tobacco shop in the phone book and thought I knew the way, but I’m afraid I got lost and had to drive around a bit before I found it.”

  Lawton shook his head. “Okay, this is all a little too weird,” he said. “Mr. Winslow, are you going to object to a gunshot residue test? One of these officers can do it right now.”

  Harry shrugged. “I have no objection,” he said.

  One of the uniform officers stepped forward and asked Harry to hold out his hands, palms upward. When the old man complied, the officer took some adhesive strips and rolled them over his hands. Each strip went into a separate plastic bag that was then sealed, and he ended up with eight separate bags.

  Lawton watched the process in silence, but when it was finished, he looked up at Harry, and then to Sam and Kathleen. “I’m afraid I’m going to need you all to come down to the station. I’m going to need complete statements from all three of you, and we’ll need to know what tobacco shop that was you went to, as well.”

  Harry and Sam looked at one another, and then Harry nodded. “Of course, Detective,” he said. “We are happy to comply.”

  16

  Kathleen’s cell phone chose that moment to ring, and she answered it to find her daughter on the line.

  “Mother!” Beth shouted, and Kathleen could tell she was crying. “Mother, they just called me, the police called, and they said Daddy is dead! Mom, what on earth is going on? Is it true? Is it really true?”

  “Honey, I just found out a bit ago myself. There’s a detective here now, talking to Harry and me, but I really don’t know anything more than you do. Let me try to find out and…”

  “Mom, was it him? Was it your boyfriend? Did he kill my dad?”

  “No, Beth,” Kathleen said, “he didn’t. I don’t know exactly what’s going on at the moment, but you’ve got to stay calm. I promise you, I’ll call you as soon as I know more.”

  “But he had something to do with it, right?” Beth demanded through her sobs. “I mean, come on, what are the chances something like this could happen the day he shows up and ruins all our lives?”

  “Beth, stop that,” Kathleen said. “Listen, honey, I know this isn’t going to be easy, but I’m afraid you’re going to be finding out some things over the next few days that are going to be hard to swallow. I know that you and Harold are going to have a hard time with some of it, but I have to ask you to trust me.”

  Beth made a scoffing sound. “Trust you? Do you mean the way Dad was supposed to be able to trust you?” There was a loud bang, and the line went dead.

  Kathleen lowered her phone and looked at Harry. “Beth heard,” she said. “Of course, she’s blaming us.”

  Harry nodded. “I suppose it’s natural at the moment,” he said. “Of course, the one bright spot in all of this is that we are now free to reveal the truth, I suppose.”

  “Which is precisely why we’re going down to the station,” Lawton said. “If I’ve gotta be honest, that’s the very thing that makes you my number one suspect, Mr. Winslow.”

  “Of course, sir,” Harry said. “I completely understand, though I can assure you I had nothing to do with his death.” He grinned. “Besides, if you speak to any of my former coworkers, they’d tell you that if I killed Michael, I would have made sure there was no evidence that pointed at me.”

  “Oh, yeah,” Lawton said, “you were a spy, right? Some kind of secret agent dude?”

  Harry continued to grin at him. “Yes,” he said. “I was exactly that.”

  Kathleen’s phone rang again, and she knew instantly it would be her son. “Hello,” she said.

  “Mom,” Harold said, his voice shaky but controlled. “Beth just called and told me that Dad is dead?”

  “Yes,” she said. “The police contacted me a little while ago, and there is a detective here now. Beth thinks Harry did it, but I…”

  “Can’t say I’m not thinking the same thing,” her son said to her. “I mean, it would seem like an awfully big coincidence, wouldn’t it? We find out you have a boyfriend, and the same day our dad is killed?”

  “Har
old, I’m sure it must seem that way, but it’s not like that. Listen, right now we have to deal with the police, but I’ll call you as soon as I can. Please, try not to believe the worst.”

  She listened to whatever Harold said next, then hung up the phone. Her face reflected how upset she was, but she didn’t say anything.

  Lawton sucked in his cheek and just looked at both her and Harry for a moment, then insisted they head down to the station. Sam picked up the keys to the Buick that Harry had laid on the bed when he returned, and the three of them followed the detective out to the parking lot.

  As they climbed into the Buick, Harry caught Sam’s eye in the rearview mirror. “I left the pistol you gave me under my pillow in the hotel before I left, Sam. If it turns out Michael was shot with a thirty-two, you can produce the gun and allow them to do a ballistics test. It won’t match.”

  “I was gonna ask where it was,” Sam said.

  “And while we’re at it,” Harry went on, “you might want to hold onto this for me.” He passed something up between the seats and Sam opened his hand to receive it. He glanced down to see what looked like a gold, tubular cigarette lighter. It was about four inches long and quite heavy.

  “Your lighter,” Sam asked. “Sure, no problem.”

  “It’s not just a lighter, Sam, boy,” Harry said. “If you open the lid backward, you’ll see what I mean. It’s a single-shot thirty-eight caliber pistol. The trigger is the big fake diamond on the side. Just open the cover, that takes off the safety, then point it at the target and slide the diamond toward the base. One shot, and it’s only good inside twenty-five or thirty meters, but it’ll get the job done if you’re up close and personal.”

  Sam looked at it for another moment, then dropped it into his jacket pocket. “Harry, forgive me for what I’m about to ask, but did you go and kill Michael? And if you did, be honest with me, I’ll still stand beside you and swear you didn’t do it.”