by L. T. Vargus
Charlie could see the muscles in Henry’s jaw flex and unflex a few times. When he spoke, it came out through clenched teeth.
“You shouldn’t have come here, old man. To my home. And you sure as shit shouldn’t have spoken to me that way.”
“Careful who you threaten, tough guy,” Frank said, his voice getting loud. “I’m not a little girl you can kick around.”
Henry lurched, a rigid flash of brawn leaping at them.
Charlie went for her stun gun, but Frank was faster.
He spritzed pepper spray in Henry’s face, the little hiss bringing Charlie’s attention to the can in her uncle’s hand.
Paige’s father wheezed and buckled before them, folding up and dropping to the ground as though the chemicals had chopped his legs out from under him. His figure twitched and writhed on the cement driveway. He cupped his hands over his face, but Charlie could still make out the tears flowing down his cheeks.
When Henry was down, Frank gave him a kick in the ribs, the toe of his boot cracking into the torso. And then Paige’s father coiled into a fetal position, pulling his limbs into a ball like a crushed spider.
Frank plucked the manila folder from inside his jacket. He peeled a few of the photos out and dropped them, floating down onto the crumpled figure.
“If you get to thinking about some kind of retaliation, just imagine how much worse you’ll get it if Big Jim Driskell ever chances upon these photographs, yeah? A married, middle-aged guy lying with his nineteen-year-old daughter? It’s technically legal, of course, but somehow I don’t think ol’ Jim will see it that way. Can’t imagine your wife will look kindly on it either.”
Henry peeled his fingers away from his face to pick up one of the photos. His eyelids fluttered over and over, tears streaming down from puffy, red eyes. He couldn’t stop blinking.
“Anyway, it was nice talking to you,” Frank said. “Leave Paige the fuck alone, and we won’t have the pleasure of doing it again.”
Charlie clapped her hands when they were back in Frank’s car.
“Damn, Frank! That was awesome!”
Frank tried to stifle a smile and failed.
“I only wish Paige could have seen it,” Charlie said. “I bet she wouldn’t be scared of him anymore after seeing him curled up on the ground, crying like a baby.” She shook her head. “Were you planning on hitting him with the pepper spray the whole time?”
“I was only going to show him the pictures. Lean on him a little. But after hearing Paige describe him, I figured I’d better go in with a Plan B in case our friend Henry got feisty.” Frank inhaled. “I didn’t realize how much I’d missed all this, and I’m not talking about kicking a fella in the ribs… though that felt good. But the investigative work? Tailing him around town. Finding his weakness. Waiting for the money shot. I think I’m ready to come back. I’m going to talk to Dr. Silva, see what she thinks about me returning to work on a part-time basis.”
“Really?” Charlie asked.
Frank nodded.
“What do you think about tag-teaming cases with your uncle?”
Charlie rubbed her palms together.
“I can’t wait.”
FIFTY
When Charlie returned to Mason’s office, he was in exactly the same position as when she’d left: eyes on the computer, fingers tapping away at the keyboard.
“Have you moved at all since I’ve been gone?” When Mason didn’t respond, she snapped her fingers. “Is there a point at which I need to douse you with ice water or something to snap you out of this?”
“I’m good,” he murmured.
Charlie frowned and stepped closer to the large wall of glass overlooking the St. Clair River.
“Whoa,” she said, feigning shock. “Mason, check this out. There’s a whole barge full of naked people floating down the river. It must be the Annual Nudist River Cruise.”
“Neat,” he said.
The ruse worked better on Allie, who said, “What? Where? I don’t see any naked people.”
Realizing that she was effectively invisible as far as Mason was concerned, Charlie gave up and returned to the velvet sofa. She was probably better off letting Mason stay focused anyway. The less distracted he was, the faster he’d hack the laptop. At least she hoped so.
Charlie sighed. It felt good to just relax for a few minutes. The last several days had been draining, and the lack of sleep was starting to take a toll.
She settled deeper into the cushions of the couch and closed her eyes, wondering what they might find on Dutch’s laptop if they got in. Photographs of the sordid and disgusting variety? The elusive last will and testament?
“Maybe a damning letter from Dutch himself, naming his murderer,” Allie suggested. “You know, the kind that starts out with, ‘If you are reading this, it can only mean that I am dead. In that event, you must know the only person who could have killed me was…’”
Charlie snorted softly, her eyes still closed.
If only.
Charlie jerked awake. With sleep still muddying her thoughts, it was a moment before she recognized her surroundings. Brick walls. Floor-to-ceiling plate-glass windows. Velveteen couch as soft as a cloud.
Ah, yes. Mason’s office.
Her gaze slid over to Mason’s desk, where he still hunched in front of the computers.
“How long was I out?” Her voice was thick with sleep.
To her surprise, Mason actually looked up from the screens this time. He checked his watch.
“Ninety minutes. Maybe two hours.”
“Why didn’t you wake me up?”
He shrugged.
“You looked so peaceful over there, drooling on my ten-thousand-dollar sofa.”
Charlie’s mouth dropped open, about to ask if he’d really paid that much for a couch. But there were more pressing matters at hand.
“And? Did you crack it?”
“Not yet. But I think it’ll be soon. I’ve got a feeling.” He lifted a steaming mug to his lips. “I just made a pot of coffee if you want some.”
Charlie went to the coffee machine and poured herself some liquid caffeine. While she drank it, she checked her phone and found several missed calls and texts that had accumulated during her nap: Marjory. Brandon. Wesley. Jude. The only Carmichael who hadn’t tried to reach her was Dara, and Charlie supposed that wasn’t really a surprise.
Charlie listened to the first voicemail, cringing instantly at the sound of Marjory’s shrill voice.
“I was willing to go along with this little charade because it was what the family wanted. But now that I know you’re currently in possession of my father’s property—property you obtained under dubious circumstances, I might add—I’m done. That computer belongs to the estate, and we have a right to know what’s on it. If you don’t turn it over to me immediately, I’ll have no choice but to contact the authorities.”
Charlie rolled her eyes. Convenient that the computer belonged to “the estate,” and yet Marjory had demanded it be given to her personally. And what was she talking about, dubious circumstances? Brandon had willingly handed over the laptop. It wasn’t like she’d stolen it.
On the other hand, there was one truth to what Marjory had said, and that was that they had a right to know what was on it. Emphasis on they.
It was why she hadn’t responded to Brandon’s text. She was working for the Carmichael family as a unit now, not any one of them individually. The fact still remained that one of them had most likely killed Dutch and Gloria, but she still had no idea which one it might have been. It wasn’t right to play favorites. Gloria had wanted things played straight. And so did Brandon.
Charlie nodded as she realized what she needed to do. The only fair way to handle this was to make sure everyone got the same information at the same time.
She checked the messages from the rest of the family. Jude and Wesley weren’t quite as accusatory as Marjory had been, but it was clear they weren’t happy the computer had been taken from t
he house. Brandon’s text warned her that Marjory knew about the computer, was angry about it, and was probably about to send the rest of them after Charlie.
Too little, too late, she thought.
Charlie called Brandon.
“Word got out about the computer, huh?” she asked.
“I’m really sorry about that,” Brandon said. “I mentioned it to Marjory, totally misjudging how she’d react. Now she’s whipped the whole lot of them into a frenzy. Even Dara, which is surprising. She usually stays out of the drama.”
“It’s OK,” Charlie said. “I think I’ve figured out a way to please everyone. Round them up and meet at the house. In a few hours we’ll either have the computer cracked, or we’ll have to give up on it as a lost cause. If we do get access to your dad’s files, we can all look at them together. Either way, I’ll return the computer, and order will be restored.”
“Alright,” Brandon said. “I’m on it.”
Charlie hung up and approached Mason’s desk.
“I don’t mean to rush you, but the Carmichaels are getting antsy. I promised them I’d meet them at the estate. With the computer. That means we’ve got a few more hours, at best.”
Mason eyed her over the edge of his coffee cup. “Is that a challenge?”
“I’d be happy to give you however long you need with the computer, but Marjory Carmichael is pissed I even have it at all.” Charlie rubbed her eyes. “If I don’t return it soon, she’ll make a stink.”
“That Marjory can be a pitbull, eh?”
“You know her?” Charlie asked.
“Sure. We contribute to the 5K fundraiser the Lamark Foundation does every year.” Mason shrugged. “I actually know her husband better. We’ve been discussing the possibility of teaming up to do a study together. Right now everyone’s focused on CBD and THC, but there are over a hundred other cannabinoids in pot. Most of them haven’t been researched thoroughly, but Trevor Steigel thinks they could have applications in treating multiple sclerosis, various cancers, and who knows what else.”
Mason tipped back his mug and finished off the last dregs of his coffee.
“Anyway, why don’t we just head over there now? I can pack up my gear and bring it with us.”
“Really? You don’t mind?”
“Mind? I’m not too proud to admit I’m a little curious to find out the stunning conclusion of—” Mason spread his hands wide “—The Billionaire’s Secret Laptop!”
Charlie smirked.
“I don’t know how this is possible, but you’ve gotten even dorkier since high school.”
“I take that as a compliment,” he said, aiming a finger gun at her. “Anyway, let me get all this stuff packed up, and I’ll follow you over to the house.”
FIFTY-ONE
When they arrived at Dutch’s estate, Charlie recognized the vehicles belonging to the three elder siblings out front. She was secretly relieved she wouldn’t have to face Marjory alone.
As it was, Marjory pounced as soon as Charlie stepped through the door.
“You! I don’t know where you get off taking it upon yourself to hack into our father’s personal property. Exactly what kind of crook did you hire to—” Marjory’s words halted abruptly when she spotted Mason enter behind Charlie. “Mr. Resnik? What are you doing here?”
“Hello, Mrs. Steigel,” he said. “Fun fact: before I got into the medical marijuana business, I went to school for computer forensics, which is really a fancy way of saying I’ve got a degree in ethical hacking.”
To Charlie’s surprise, Mason’s presence seemed to shut Marjory up. She followed them into the solarium and threw herself onto the chaise longue, pulling one of the cinnamon hard candies from her pocket and unwrapping it.
Charlie helped Mason set up at a large mahogany desk at one end of the room, and he got back to work cracking Dutch’s encryption key. Dara showed up some time later and then Jude. Marjory and Wesley busied themselves making coffee and then tasked Dara with handing out cups of the steaming brew to everyone.
At one point, Marjory sniffed the air.
“Does anyone else smell that? It’s like… piña colada or something.”
Charlie inhaled. Marjory was right. There was a definite scent of pineapple and coconut coming from somewhere.
“Jude!” Marjory whirled around and stomped over to where he stood near the window. “Put that away this instant. You know there’s no smoking in the house!”
“I’m not smoking. I’m vaping.” He let out a tremendous cloud of smoke. “There’s a difference.”
“If you’re going to be an asshole, at least have the decency to do it outside,” Wesley said.
“Oh right, I’m the asshole,” Jude said, pushing through the doors and muttering something about the rest of them always teaming up against him.
After her third cup of coffee since her nap, Charlie asked Dara to show her to the nearest restroom. She locked herself inside, realizing this was the first bathroom in the mansion she’d given any close attention to. It was no less luxe than the rest of the house, with a marble-topped vanity that looked like it must have been reconstructed from an antique and had legs carved to look like lion’s feet.
Charlie washed her hands and dried them on a towel so plush she wanted to curl up in it and take another nap. She switched off the powder room light and stepped back into the hallway, where she found Jude waiting for her.
“Ms. Winters… can we talk?” His eyes darted around as if someone might be listening. “Privately?”
Charlie shrugged.
“Sure.”
Jude led her upstairs, glancing back over his shoulder the entire way. Charlie was getting an awfully paranoid vibe from him, and she didn’t like it.
They passed through Dutch’s bedroom and into his study, and Jude closed the door behind them. It occurred to Charlie that she’d left her purse downstairs, which meant she didn’t have her stun gun on her person.
“You think he’s actually going to attack you or something with everyone else in the house? He’d have to be an idiot,” Allie said. “Although, he has acted like kind of an idiot in the past, huh? OK. You’re right. Better safe than sorry.”
“I apologize for being so secretive, but I honestly don’t trust the rest of them to not eavesdrop on our conversation,” Jude said.
“That horse head bookend on the shelf looks like cast iron,” Allie whispered. “That’ll do some damage to a skull. Any sudden moves, and you grab the horse and clock him with it. Right in the vape hole.”
“What’s up?” Charlie asked.
She felt a bit more relaxed now, as Jude’s demeanor had shifted somewhat once they’d reached the study. He seemed less tense.
“What’s it cost to get the first peek at the computer?”
Charlie blinked.
“The cost?” She shrugged. “Mason’s fee is pretty nominal, but that’s figured into what Gloria paid me already.”
Jude rolled his eyes in pure disgust.
“No. You don’t understand. I want exclusive access. Before anyone else.”
Crossing her arms over her chest, Charlie narrowed her eyes at him.
“Why? What’s on there that you don’t want anyone else to see?”
“I have no idea what’s on there. But I don’t trust these people. Gloria, I had faith in. She always tried to be fair. But Wesley? I don’t care if he’s my brother, the guy is a raging prick. He’s always been an asshole, especially to me. He’ll try to screw me over just because he can.”
“I’m still not sure what you’re asking me to do. Everyone is here. The second Mason gets into the computer, they’re all going to know.”
“Make up a story, then. I don’t care how you do it. Just give me a day with it—by myself—and then we can bring the rest of them in on it.” Jude pulled out his wallet. “So… I’m thinking, what? A thousand? I have five hundred on me, and I can hit up an ATM.”
Charlie waved her hands.
“I don’t think
so.”
“OK,” he said, shrugging. “I thought a thousand was fair, but I guess you’re holding all the cards. Fifteen hundred? I might have to wait until tomorrow to get another five hundred out from the ATM, unless I can find a branch for my bank nearby. I know there isn’t one on the island.”
“Sorry, I’m not doing this,” Charlie said, brushing past him and moving for the door.
“Two thousand dollars.”
“No thanks. This conversation is over.”
Charlie turned the handle and opened the door a crack, but Jude pushed it shut.
“What’s wrong with you? I just offered you two grand.”
“I don’t care how much it is,” Charlie said. “I’m not for sale.”
Jude laughed. It was a cruel sound. Humorless.
“Oh please. Cut the innocent act. You’re a P.I., not Mother Teresa.”
Charlie tried to heave the door open, but Jude was using all of his weight to keep it closed.
“Let me out, please.”
“What is it? Is Wes already paying you under the table? Is that it?” He snickered and shook his head. “I should have known.”
“You need to let go of the door and let me pass.”
Jude’s face was inches from hers now. She could smell the cloyingly sweet fragrance of the piña colada vape on his breath.
“Who the fuck do you think you are to give me orders in my own father’s house? You think being some snooping bitch Gloria hired gives you some special powers here or something?”
Charlie’s gaze strayed to the cast-iron horse head on the shelf over his shoulder. If this little shit didn’t let her out of this room in about ten seconds, she was going to be sorely tempted to brain him with it.
A knock came from the other side of the door.
“Everything OK in there?”
Charlie recognized Brandon’s voice and felt relief wash over her. It would have been difficult to explain exactly how necessary it had been to clock Jude with a metal statue, after all. Better for everyone if she didn’t have to.