by Lauren Carr
Joshua kept his eyes on George Scales. “On our way into the airport, we were almost run over by a black Jaguar with personalized tags that read SCALES.”
Nancy clasped George’s hand. “Don’t say anything.”
“I didn’t kill her,” George insisted. “Yes, I found her body; but she was already dead, and I got out of there.”
Joshua asked, “What were you doing there? Don’t tell us you were coming in from a flight, because no personnel were on the scene. No flights for Hathaway Industries—arriving or departing—were booked today.”
Rachel, Archie, and Cameron came into the restaurant.
The men’s voices rose while the conversation escalated.
“I was there to pay her off.” The lawyer mopped his forehead with his napkin. “I had a hundred and fifty thousand dollars in cash in a briefcase to give her to keep her mouth shut.”
Neal threw his napkin onto the table. “Why were you paying her off? We did nothing wrong. I want to know who killed Ilysa and why. By taking care of it, I meant for you to get the authorities in to nail her butt to the wall for this!”
George Scales’s face was paler than it had been before. “I thought that if I paid her something that she would go away quietly, and we wouldn’t have any hassle.”
“I’m a big boy,” Neal said. “I expected there to be a hassle in trying to find out who killed my wife. If that’s what it takes, then hassle away.” He slammed his fist onto the table. “Is that why it’s been eight years and the police are no closer to finding out who killed my wife? Because you’ve been paying people off to go away and not bother me? Well, guess what? I’m bothered!”
Scott was on his feet. “Dad, I think it’s time to go home.”
Neal Hathaway pointed across the table in his lawyer’s direction. “You’re fired! Do you hear me, Scales? Whoever killed Ilysa is walking around free, because you paid everyone off to not bother me!”
Scott and Rachel led Neal Hathaway, who was cussing out his attorney, out of the restaurant.
Cameron said, “He certainly looks bothered now.”
Joshua asked the lawyer, “What are you afraid of?”
“Nothing.” George Scales rose to his feet. He turned to come face to face with Cameron.
“I think that pay off was to protect you,” the detective said.
Nancy took him by the arm. “If you want to ask any more questions, call our lawyer.”
Cameron asked, “Do you two both have the same lawyer?”
Nancy shot a glare at her before dragging Scales out of the restaurant.
David had trailed Susan Dulin into the rose garden maze. A romantic, softly-lit, floral garden, it was a favorite spot for couples to have privacy late at night.
Mac and Archie waited for Susan and Peyton to be in the throes of a passionate embrace before interrupting them.
“Fancy meeting you here,” Mac plopped down on the stone bench next to Susan Dulin, who quickly covered up her blouse that had become unbuttoned.
“Can’t you see we want to be alone?” Peyton glared up at Archie, who blocked his path of escape when he tried to slip away. His glare deepened when he turned to see David blocking the only other escape route.
“You lied to us,” David said. “The night Ilysa Ramsay was murdered, you both stated that you were asleep. You, Kaplan, told us you were up here at the Inn with your wife. You, Dulin, told us you were asleep in your room. Now, we find out that you both were lying and you, Dulin, actually went for a jog across the estate at the time of the murder—”
“I left my room after one o’clock,” she said. “It was after the murder. I was asleep until twelve-thirty.”
Peyton laughed, “Do you actually think we did it? Well, we do have alibis. Better than the one we gave you before. We were with each other until close to four in the morning.”
“But you got together around the time of the murder,” Mac said. “Susan, you were seen right there at the studio.”
“Who told you that?” She scoffed. “Let me guess? Rachel?”
Peyton asked, “Why would Susan kill Ilysa?”
“You tell us,” David challenged him. “Maybe it has something to do with that little nestegg you have in the Cayman Islands.”
Susan whirled around to face Peyton. “You have a nestegg in the Cayman Islands!”
“A small nestegg.” Peyton press his finger and thumb together to indicate a small amount.
Doubting him, Susan looked up at David, who shook his head. She sucked in a deep breath and slapped Peyton across the face. “All these years you’ve been telling me that you can’t leave your wife because you can’t live without her money when you’ve been socking it away and not telling me!” She slapped him again. “You dirty rotten liar!”
When she threw her arm back to hit him again, Mac grabbed it. “I think you’ve punished him enough.”
“No, I haven’t.” She tried to pull her arm free, but Mac had a firm hold on it.
Mac asked Peyton, “Where did that money come from?”
“An inheritance,” he said.
“He’s lying,” Susan told them. “No one in his family likes him enough to want to leave him anything.”
“Oh, yeah?” Peyton replied. “Fat lot you know. This inheritance came from a distant cousin who didn’t know me very well. So there!” He stuck his tongue out at her.
With a humph, she turned her head away.
David asked her, “Was Peyton already waiting at the park when you went to meet him?”
She rolled her eyes. “Yes, he was already there waiting for me. Creep.”
“How would you describe him?” Mac asked her.
“What do you mean?”
“What was his mood? Was he agitated? Excited?”
“He was horny—like always.”
Archie clarified. “He was excited.”
Susan said, “I did not kill Ilysa. Why would I? So I went pass her studio around the time of the murder?”
“If you didn’t do it,” Mac said, “you may have seen who did.”
“All I saw was Greta, naked, walking up the path from the lake. She’d been swimming.”
“Swimming? Naked?” Mac asked. “At one o’clock in the morning?”
Archie whispered to him, “It’s not unusual. I go skinny dipping in the lake late at night sometimes.”
Peyton’s eyes brightened. “Do you?”
“I also carry a pink handgun that I use to shoot peepers.”
Mac asked them, “Now that we’re remembering what we should have told the police back years ago, can either of you think of anyone, besides Victor Gruskonov, who had a reason to hurt Ilysa?”
They glanced at each other before looking back at them and shrugging.
Mac asked Susan, “How about on the way back from the park? What happened after you left Peyton?”
“It was four o’clock. I jogged back up the path along the lake to the mansion.”
“Were the lights on or off in the art studio?” Mac asked her.
“Off.”
Mac asked, “Are you sure?”
“Positive.”
“How about when you left to go meet Peyton … at one o’clock?”
“Off.”
“Both times?”
The repeated question made her glare and bite off both words in her answer. “I’m positive.”
“Okay.” Mac stood up. “You can go back to what you were doing.”
With a sneer at Peyton, she replied, “Don’t even think about it.”
Did I used to be this nervous?
While waiting for Cameron to come out of the bathroom, Joshua stroked Irving, who had taken a strong liking to him. In the past, he had been confident and in charge of every situation. If anything, the woman was nervous.
Now, that seemed so long ago. It was back when he was the high school football hero, and then the Naval Academy cadet. It was before marriage and children, and settling back into the sedate life of a single fath
er with grown children.
A lifetime ago.
His reflection in the hotel mirror revealed that he was no longer the dashing football hero or Naval officer.
Now he was a middle-aged man ... with the gray to prove it.
It seemed to be overnight that Joshua’s hair had turned from auburn to silver. With humor, he noted that it was about the time that his two oldest sons left home for college.
When his barber, Sam, suggested coloring it, Joshua objected. “I’ve earned every one of these gray hairs.” Calling it his badge of maturity, he was so proud of his silver locks that he even let his hair grow out to the top of his shirt collar into what he saw as a silver mane.
Now, waiting for Cameron to join him for their first night alone, he wondered at his reflection in the mirror. What’s going through her mind when she looks at me? Does she see a man as old as my children seem to think I am?
Little did he know that a similar conversation was going on in the bathroom.
Cameron was relieved to find that Irving actually liked Joshua. He didn’t become spastic about him like other men she had dated. Maybe that was why Irving liked him.
No one likes being screamed at. It isn’t Irving’s fault that he looks like a skunk.
Since the road trip was last minute, all Cameron had time to pack was an old tiger-striped nightie. It wasn’t until she looked at her reflection in the mirror that she recalled her reason for buying it.
It was for her honeymoon.
A wave of guilt washed over her.
How could I have forgotten a thing like that?
She stripped the nightie off and tossed it to the floor.
Now what?
Swallowing her guilt, she brushed her hair while thinking back over the years. Her new husband dying months after the wedding; her spiraling out of control while trying to wash away the pain with alcohol; and crashing at rock bottom emotionally, as well as professionally. With nothing left, she quit everything and walked away. There was nothing left to do but reflect, regroup, and reassemble her life and priorities.
Getting back to what was important.
She washed her face. When she stood up and looked at her reflection, she smiled at what she saw.
It’s not about a nightie. It’s not about looking perfectly sexy. It’s not about sex with a silver fox. It’s about more than that. He was more important to her than a night of wild sexual abandon. She knew that when he first laughed at her jokes.
Joshua Thornton is a keeper.
She threw her grass stained shirt on over her panties and stepped out of the bathroom. “Are you ready?”
She was relieved to see that he had taken off at least his shirt. He patted the pillow on the other side of the bed. “I don’t know if Irving is. He seems to think this is his spot.”
Cameron slipped in under the covers. She noticed what appeared to be a shadow cross his face. “What’s wrong?”
He directed his attention to Irving, who pressed his head against his hand to beg for more petting. “I think you should know something.”
“You’ve got a girlfriend.” She held her breath.
“No, far from that.”
“A boyfriend?”
He snapped his head up to look at her. “I have five kids.”
“I knew that,” she replied. “Do you have a boyfriend?”
“No, I don’t have a boyfriend.”
“Then what?” Now she was really worried.
“I haven’t had a serious relationship since my wife died.” Joshua looked over at her. “Every time I’ve gotten close, I’ve been scared off.”
She reached over to stroke his face. “Guilt.”
“Yeah. A lot of guilt.” He caressed her face. “When I started this vacation, ending up here with someone like you was the last place I expected to be.”
“Is that good or bad?” Gazing into his clear blue eyes, she moved over closer to him.
“We’ll let you be the judge of that.”
Seeming to sense he was being squeezed out, Irving jumped off the bed and landed over on the dresser.
She reached under the covers to place her hand on his hip and was delighted to find that her fingers stroked bare flesh. So far, so good. She sat up and pulled her shirt off over her head. “What do you say we make this a vacation to write home about?”
“Not to my family.” He pulled her down to kiss him.
In the private penthouse suite up on the top floor of the Spencer Inn, room service had delivered champagne and strawberries while they were out. Candles and the see-through fireplace bathed the suite in a soft glow.
Clad in her red silk robe, Archie waited next to the table set for two for Mac to come out of the bathroom. “I wondered when you were going to get up the nerve to come out. Dessert is waiting.” With that, she dropped the robe.
He wrapped his arms around her. “I guess I better dig in before it gets cold.”
They embraced. With each kiss their passion grew until he took her into his arms and lifted her up.
The bedroom being further away than he wanted to go, he carried her to the sofa. Together, they dropped onto the cushions.
Startled out of a deep sleep, Gnarly’s yelp broke the moment. All three bodies tumbled onto the floor in a mass of arms, legs, fur, and paws.
“Gnarly,” Mac said to the dog draped across his chest, “I’m going to kill you.”
Chapter Eleven
“We put that crime scene tape up for a reason,” Mac heard David call to him from the dock.
If Mac had caught a private citizen inside a burnt-out van surrounded by crime scene tape when he’d been a detective, he wouldn’t have been as nice as David. Even if it was Mac’s dock and his speed boat under the thief’s van, he was supposed to wait for the police department to clear the scene before climbing inside.
“Are you through in the house?” Mac resumed his search. The evidence gloves felt like a favorite pair of jeans he liked wearing when he wanted to be comfortable. The flashlight he used to search the charred interior felt like a partner he never should have let go.
“It’s clear. Now your contractor can repair the damage from Gnarly’s audition for the lead beast in a horror movie.” David stepped back to avoid getting splashed when Gnarly dove in after a flock of ducks taunting him from the water.
Gnarly was having a grand time playing a dog-duck version of tag. He would chase the ducks roosting around the dock out into the deep water of the lake, only to have them turn around and chase him back to shore. Then, after reaching his limit of being taunted by the water fowl, he would dive back into the water to chase them out again.
“Did you get anything on the gun that Gnarly found?”
“It was stolen during a burglary in New York,” David said. “The guy’s a pro, Mac. We got his ID. Felix Grant aka Felix the Cat Burglar.”
“Cat?” Mac called out from inside the van. “No wonder Gnarly took him out the way he did.”
“He’s wanted in three states. The police in Massachusetts, New York, and Virginia are fighting over him for charges of breaking and entering, and burglary.”
That was enough to make Mac stick his head out the van’s window. “What was he doing here in Spencer?”
“Someone hired him. But like I said, he’s a pro. He’s already lawyered up.” David grinned. “He’s a real character. He talks about himself in third person. ‘Felix the Cat is the best, and you never would have caught Felix the Cat if it hadn’t been for that werewolf.’”
“I always said Gnarly was a beast.”
The German Shepherd ran back up onto the bank via the boat launch to shake the water out of his fur. David stepped back to once again avoid the spraying water.
“Do you have your cell phone?” Mac asked.
“Where’s yours?”
“I left it in my car. I’ll give it back.”
David removed his phone from his utility belt.
Mac took a burnt up smart phone from an evidence b
ag. “I found this under the front seat of the van.” He removed the cover to reveal the smart chip inside, which he slipped into David’s cell phone. “See if you can bring up his call log to see who Felix the Cat has been talking to.”
After pressing a few buttons, David brought the phone to his ear and smiled when he made a connection. “Hey, I got your merchandise.…The dog gave me some issues, but I took care of him.”
When Gnarly barked as if to protest the police chief’s lie, David turned his head away while Mac shushed him.
“Do you have my money?” David went on to set up the appointment before hanging up. “Good work, Faraday. The drop is one o’clock this afternoon at a lakeside café in McHenry.” He removed the chip and placed it into the evidence bag along with the phone. “Now get out of that van before you get hurt and sue the department.”
“Did you recognize the voice of the perp?” Mac asked while steadying himself as he climbed onto the dock.
“Can’t tell.”
With the clear summer day, there were a number of jet skis out racing about on the lake not far from shore. David sat down on the bench at the end of the dock. Gnarly trotted up to rest his wet head in his lap. In silence, he stroked the dog’s head without noticing that his wet fur was leaving a water mark on his pant leg that would make it appear as if he had peed his pants.
“I’ve been thinking about Hathaway,” David said.
“Hathaway? What about him?”
“You weren’t there when Bogie and I arrived at the scene of Ilysa’s murder,” David said. “Detective Gates doesn’t believe that a man can’t tell that his wife was replaced with a duplicate, but this man really loved her. It was heartbreaking to see. When he finds out that his wife had used him to steal the access codes for his satellites to sell to terrorists—I can’t bear the thought.”
“I can’t see how we can’t tell him.”
Staring out at the water, David was silent. Finally, he said in a soft voice, “I want to be the one to do it.” He looked over at Mac. “But first, I want to find out who killed her and why.” He continued staring out at the water while stroking Gnarly’s head. “That will make it easier for him if he has more answers.”
Mac clasped his shoulder. “We’ll catch this guy.”