"I thought you were going to kill me," I said.
"That was him?" Imogen asked.
"Quite the contrary. I was making sure that you weren't in any danger. You gave me a good run for my money."
"Fear can do that to you."
The officers had finished reading Ken and Kitty their rights. They were escorted out of the room, leaving Imogen, Detective Connolly, and myself alone.
"So, now what?" I asked.
"You guys are free to go."
"I mean, what happens to Mike and the others?"
"Well, Detective Carrington and the NYPD detectives took Mike down to the station. They'll question him for a bit just to make sure he's clean and didn't know anything. He might be an asshole, but he's no killer."
"Actually, he kind of grew on me," I admitted.
"I bet his wife doesn't feel the same way," Imogen added.
"Oh, Mrs. Miller, she's down there too. They'll be back at their home later tonight."
"I'm sure they'll have a lot to talk about," I said.
Detective Connolly laughed. "Wait until we tell them that Ken's the killer. That will really knock him for a loop. And as for the dynamic duo, they'll be spending some time in custody—well, until the trial. Then off to prison, I would imagine. Why two people with everything would risk it all is beyond me."
"Love?" I asked.
"Ah, love, the ultimate motive," Imogen added.
"I bet this is going to make the papers tomorrow. I can see it now: 'Murder.com – The Multimillion-Dollar Love Triangle,'" I said.
Connolly laughed. "Yes, this is too good to pass up. Hey, one more thing, Max—you did good. Real good. Thanks."
I nodded.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
Ginny and I accompanied Detective Connolly to the station. When we arrived, he escorted us over to his office, where we were introduced to the other detectives that were working the case. They were all smiling and chatting with us as if we were all intimate friends.
"Don't worry, we never bugged your house," one of them said after relaying a story about some of the other stings they'd been on.
"We just kept eyes on you," another added. "Connolly couldn't do it twenty-four hours a day."
Finally, John Carrington walked in.
"Max," he said as he approached. "And the always lovely Miss Whitehall."
"John," I said. We all shook hands.
"Well, well, well…the little engine that could. That's what you are. All your poking and snooping paid off."
"Hey, he didn't do it alone, I'll have you know," Ginny said.
"Oh, I know, Miss Whitehall—without you none of this would have happened."
Imogen smiled.
"Why didn't you tell me Detective Connolly was following me?" I asked.
"Now, Max, how quickly you forget. You were our number one suspect. Do you think we would just let you walk away without knowing where you were every second of every day? I had a gut feeling that you didn't do it, but, well, let's just say I'm glad Connolly owed me a favor. And if you knew he was following you, would you have done all of the things that you did? Followed Kitty? Met with Mike? Went—"
"You mean he followed me to Kitty's house?"
"He sure did."
"I never saw him."
"Of course not. He's good at what he does. Oh, how did I forget—do you remember those emails?"
"Yes."
"Well, we were able to trace those to the BMC office. Right to Ken's computer, or I'm pretty sure it's Ken's computer. We'll find out after the tech guys get a hold of it."
"So you knew it was Ken?"
"We bugged his office a couple of weeks ago, right along with Mike's, but they didn't mention a thing. When you ID'd him with Kitty we had a good hunch, as did you, but when he spilled his guts tonight, well, it doesn't get much better than that. You know, some smart guys are pretty dumb."
"And what about Williams? Am I off the hook?"
Carrington chuckled. "He wasn't happy when we pegged Ken as the killer. It kind of took the wind out of his sails. I don't know what's going to happen to him, but he risked a lot of capital on bringing you in. The brass isn't too happy about it."
I couldn't say I was broken up when I heard the news. Sergeant Williams was an asshole that was willing to lock me up for no good reason. Maybe it was the risk taker in me or the betting man in me, but I hoped that he wound up on the street. That would serve him right.
"I just hope he gets what he deserves."
John sat on the corner of Connolly's desk. "Me too, Max. Me too. So what's in the cards for you two now? Back to your normal lives?"
Imogen looked at me, and I, in turn, looked up at the ceiling, thinking. "I don't know quite yet. I do know Ginny and I need a vacation."
"Oh yeah, where to?"
"Whistler!" Ginny yelled with a big shit-eating grin on her face.
"And why's that, Miss Whitehall?" Detective Carrington asked.
"We're getting engaged!"
Imogen seized the moment. And why not? She, I mean we, deserved it.
"Well, looks like congratulations are in order, you two."
John congratulated us, patted us both on the back, and then Ginny and I walked out of the police station into the cold New York night.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
My face was turned to the left, lying on the pillow, the covers pulled up to my armpit and my eyes closed. I was in a semi-conscious state, my body finally resting after a week of abuse that I had voluntarily put it through. We had spent the week skiing, drinking, eating, sleeping, unwinding, and engaging in other various extracurricular activities. When I finally lifted my head and opened my eyes, I peeked out of the window. White. The mountain was right there. I could see the lifts in motion and little moving blips traversing the beast of a hill on their way back down to the village.
Ginny was next to me. I gave her a slight push, but she didn't move. Her nude back was exposed, but the air in the bedroom certainly wasn't enough to wake her. It was a balmy sixty-eight degrees in the chalet. I rolled back over to my side, inhaled, and then stood. I expected my bare feet to hit the tile and freeze, but the floor was heated. Such a wonderful perk. I relaxed my tense muscles and thought to myself that I needed to put heated floors in my house. This was a fantastic way to live.
I had a week's beard growth on my face, my bones ached, and I was exhausted, but despite all of that I was almost ready to pack in my life at home and become a ski bum. Ginny hadn't discussed it with me, even though I'd tried to bring it up at dinner last night right after we had gotten engaged. "Really, Max, now?" That was what she had said after I'd floated the idea by her. I had informed her that my suggestion was merely that, a suggestion, and, of course, we didn't have to discuss it now. "Good," she'd said. "Because I'm too busy staring at my new ring to think clearly." That comment had been interesting. Apparently, diamonds and proposals had the same effect on women as alcohol did on me.
I shaved, showered, and dressed. All of which took place with the aid of a heated floor and a heated towel rack. The chalet was fantastic. When I entered the bedroom again, I could see that Ginny was now lying on her back, staring up at the ceiling, dangling her left hand in front of her face, trying to catch the sunlight entering the room through the picturesque window off her engagement ring.
"It's beautiful," she said, watching me enter the room.
"I'm glad you like it, my dear."
"I love it!" She stretched and sat up in the bed, pulling the covers over her bare chest.
I could see the fire coming off the diamond from the doorway.
"And I love you," I countered.
Ginny smiled, and her hands came to rest next to her body. "I don't want to leave, Dutch."
"I offered you a solution to that very problem last night, my dear."
"Oh, Max, I don't want to stay here forever. I, well, just don't want this week to end. It's been magical."
"It most definitely has, my love." I walked o
ver to the bed and gave her a kiss. I had just come to the decision that I was going to adopt "my love" as my new way of addressing Imogen. Maybe I'd even just call her "my wife." After all, we were to be married. I sat down next to her on the bed. "We've got time for lunch in the village, if you're interested."
Imogen slowly interlocked her fingers behind my neck and pulled herself up to my ear, where she whispered, "What's the rush?" Then she kissed me as we slowly descended back into the bed.
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
It had been a few months since Imogen and I were engaged. Coincidentally, it had also been a few months since Ken Clarke and Kitty Baxter were arrested for the murder of Ted Baxter. Today we were going to stop by the police station to see Detective Carrington. After all, we had become sort of friends, brought together by external forces and a unique situation. Plus, it didn't hurt to know a detective on the local police force.
Before Imogen and I were going to meet with John, we had to finish our day's first order of business, which was a board meeting in the city with everyone from POP. Imogen and I would be heading back home after the meeting. We were happy to report that the suburbs were once again our home. Although we had vowed to spend at least one week a month in Manhattan. After all, there were a lot of restaurants to try, and Lord knew there were plenty of places to introduce Ginny to, namely Chinatown. She had never been. That was a lot of lo mein and dim sum she had missed out on so far. She had a lot of catching up to do.
We were at my office, in the boardroom. I had a decent boardroom. Nothing remotely close to the boardroom at BMC, which looked like it was out of a Roaring Twenties corporation with extravagance at its height. We had an oak table that could seat about twenty, plush leather chairs, and a large, flexible high-tech television that served the purpose of displaying boring spreadsheets and the occasional cool application. All in all, it was nice, but I wouldn't have described it as opulent. We also had floor-to-ceiling windows that had an open view of the East River. You could see the Chrysler Building as well, along with the Empire State Building and the UN, but for my money I thought the Chrysler Building was one of New York's finest. I loved the art deco roof that was reminiscent of the 1930s, but it was a personal preference.
Mike was sitting across from me. Imogen was off to my side. She was part of the work fabric these days. In case you were keeping tabs. She did come in at the with level, and she was right. I couldn't afford her.
Things had changed dramatically for Mike and BMC. Most importantly, he was plum out of partners. Ken and Kitty were out of the picture, and both would be in prison shortly. There was already a legal battle going on to dissolve BMC between Mike and Ken so that Ken, most probably, could take some of his proceeds to pay his upcoming legal expenses. Before we had entered the boardroom, Mike pulled me aside.
"So, Max, I was thinking…"
"Never a good thing," I said, our relationship now a friendly one. In fact, friendly enough where I was engaging in some of the same banter that I usually saved for my fiancée. Granted, I found that fact a little weird myself.
"Funny," he replied sarcastically. "As I was saying—"
"I'm on pins and needles," I said.
"Can I finish?"
"Dutch, give it a rest already," Imogen interjected. "Go ahead, Mike."
"Dutch?" Mike asked.
"I'll explain later," I said.
He continued on with his last thought: "At least I can talk to one of you. So, as I was saying, BMC is going through some changes."
"That's the understatement of the year," I said.
Mike shot me a look that was trying to masquerade as stern, but the smirk that he was trying to hide gave himself away. "And since we're going through these changes, I was thinking that it might be time for me to find a new place to hang my hat."
"Are you asking me for a job?" I asked.
"Are you that dense?" Mike shot back. "No, I don't want a job. I was thinking that my new company, Miller Capital, and your firm might make a good team. Maybe combine forces and take over the world."
"Aut Consillis Aut Ense," Imogen said.
Mike laughed. "Someone's been working on their Latin."
I added, "Either by meeting or the sword."
"And another scholar. You never do cease to amaze, Max."
"Let me get this straight, you want to be partners?" I laughed.
"More like colleagues that come together in a merger of sorts."
I started to tell Mike that the only good partners were dead partners, and then I realized that comment would be in extremely poor taste. Maybe the caveat should be that the only good partners were the ones that were in jail and never coming out. What? Too soon? Instead, I explained to Mike my theory on partners, which boiled down to not having one. He listened, and then we agreed that I would take some time to think about it.
The meeting wrapped up with plenty of time to head home and see John. We arrived at the police station around 4 p.m. Imogen and I strolled up the steps to the brick building looking for John. We stopped by reception.
"We're here to see Detective John Carrington," I said to the police officer behind the plastic bulletproof window.
"Detective?"
"Yes, Detective John Carrington. Is he here?"
"Sir, he's Sergeant John Carrington. And yes, let me see if he's in."
The officer picked up a phone and called Sergeant Carrington. I could faintly hear a female voice on the other end of the line.
"Your names?"
"Max Slade and Imogen Whitehall."
He repeated our names to the voice on the other line and then stared at me. "She's checking." A moment later, he said, "You can go right in to see him. Take your second left." He buzzed open a door, which we walked through.
There was the cell that I had been thrown into. The box that almost took away my freedom.
After a jaunt down the hall, we found ourselves face to face with Sergeant John Carrington.
"Sergeant John," I said. "How do you like that? Moving up the ranks."
John smiled. "Indeed. Rapidly ascending through the inner sanctum."
"Well, let me be the thousandth person to offer you congratulations," I said, extending my hand to shake his. We locked palms in a celebratory embrace.
"And hello to you, Miss Whitehall,—or should I say the future Mrs. Slade," John said after we finished shaking hands.
"You detectives don't miss a trick," Imogen said. "Yes, we're engaged."
"Hard to miss it. That ring certainly is big enough," I said.
"Oh, well, let me return the favor by being the thousandth person to offer you both congratulations," John said, and gave Imogen a kiss on the cheek. "You two make a great couple." I said thanks and shook his hand again. This time I received a pat on my back. "Max, I didn't think you had it in ya."
"He found a way," Imogen said.
"Isn't this Williams' office?" I asked. Remembering my time locked in the cell right outside the door.
"It was," Carrington said. "He's no longer here."
"Where is he?"
"You'll be happy to know he was placed on administrative leave, indefinitely. The disciplinary board will ultimately decide what happens to him."
Good. I hoped that he got kicked off the force with no pension and no future. That, and only that, would serve him right.
"It wasn't only because of the Ted Baxter fiasco. He's had a history of bad decisions. The Baxter case just pushed the brass over the edge."
"And you were the perfect man to fill his shoes."
"Well, I was next in line. That's how it works."
"Well, I'm happy for you, John. I really am. Can't say I care much what happens to Williams, though."
"He's not all that bad, Max. He just made some bad decisions. You, better than most, should know. Sometimes, good people make bad mistakes."
"Really bad ones, like murder."
We both had a good chuckle over that one.
"Anyway, in addition to how happy I
am to hear that you're both engaged, I wanted to offer you both my thanks."
This was the most public acknowledgement that we would ever receive for our part in the Ted Baxter murder investigation.
"I was glad we could help," I said. "And I was glad you didn't lock me up and throw away the key."
"Max, I'm the kind of guy that goes with his gut. Even if it throws me down the sewer. I've trusted it all my life, and it's gotten me this far."
"I know what you mean. But thanks. You were the only one who believed me. And I'll never forget it."
Maybe I was getting caught up in the emotion of my engagement or my feelings about the case, but I almost cried. I didn't know where that emotion came from. It was one that didn't creep around too often, but I felt it, and when I thanked John for keeping me free, I meant it. Much more than he would ever know.
"I'm glad I could help too," Ginny added.
"Miss Whitehall—"
"Call me Ginny," Imogen interrupted.
Carrington smiled. "Ginny, I never meant to make you second fiddle. You and Max were a team. An equal team, and because of you two, we figured out this mess. Sure, my team and I and the NYPD did most of the work, but without you guys we wouldn't have cracked this nut."
I blushed. And, simultaneously, resented the crack about his team and the NYPD. Just a little.
"So, now that this whole mess is over, what's the plan?" John asked.
"Not sure yet. Ginny and I are sort of taking things day by day."
"I'll tell you this. If you guys ever want to get into the private investigator business, I would certainly hire you both as consultants."
I laughed. Ginny laughed.
"Private investigating." I continued to laugh. "I don't think so."
"Think about it. You guys are pretty good at it."
Ginny was still laughing.
"We'll think about it, John." Still laughing, I shook his hand, and Imogen gave him two air kisses. We all exchanged some pleasantries as our meeting wrapped up.
"Take care guys, and seriously, think about it. I'd love your help. Hell, we all would."
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