The Pursuit of Lies, A Romantic Suspense Novel (Book #4, Paradise Valley Mysteries)

by Debra Burroughs

  “What kin I get for ya?” the waitress asked Maggie and Emily in a thick Irish brogue, with flesh overflowing her tight, ruffled, and very short wench-of-a-waitress outfit. Her curly black hair was mostly pulled up with loose tendrils dancing about her neck.

  “A glass of white wine, please,” Maggie ordered.

  “This be no fancy wine bar, lassie. That’d be ‘round the carner. It’ll be Guinness or stout we be servin’.”

  “Two glasses of Guinness then, please,” Emily said.

  The waitress wrote down their order on her pad and took it to the bar.

  “I wonder if her accent is real or it’s all for show,” Maggie asked once she was sure the woman was out of earshot.

  “You should know, Miss Maggie Sullivan. Names don’t get any more Irish than that.” Emily leaned back in her chair and kept her gaze roving around the room.

  “Y’all think I’m Irish?”

  “Don’t look now, but I believe that’s him over by the bar.”

  Maggie’s head spun in the bar’s direction. “Where?”

  “Geez, Maggs, I said don’t look.”

  Maggie appeared to do her best to nonchalantly bring her gaze back to her own table.

  “He’s taking a stool at the bar now. I saw him come out of the back poolroom.”

  “Should we approach him?” Maggie asked, looking only at Emily.

  “Let’s wait for our drinks, then we’ll go.” Emily looked over at Peter and caught his gaze. She lifted her chin in the direction of the bar and he gave a slight nod in return.

  “There ye be,” the busty waitress said, setting their glasses and bill down on the table.

  Emily dug some cash out of her purse and handed it to the woman. As the waitress put her fingers on it to take it, Emily put her hand there as well. “I’ll add to this amount if you give me a wee bit of information.”

  Surprise lit up the woman’s dark eyes. “If it’s information you’ll be wantin’, I’m your gal.”

  Emily tugged a twenty out of her purse and added it to the cash. Based on the intel Ernie had provided, she knew Clive McDonald was a regular in this place. “The guy at the bar,” she tilted her head in his direction, “the one with the deep blue sweater, what can you tell me about him?”

  The woman glanced over at the few patrons that sat at the bar. “Oh, him? He’s an okay bloke. Used to be a real pistol when his wife was ‘round, ‘til she got herself locked up. Now, he pretty much keeps to himself. You’ve heard about his wife, haven’t ya?”

  “Yes, we heard.” Emily handed the money to the wench, who snatched it up and instantly shoved it down the front of her frilly white blouse.

  “Thank you, mum.” She whirled away in Peter’s direction.

  “Definitely fake,” Maggie surmised, taking a sip from her glass.

  “The boobs or the accent?” Emily followed the woman with her gaze.

  “Both.”

  Emily had to cover her mouth with a few fingers to keep a small giggle contained, and she swallowed hard. “Ready?”

  The two took their glasses and meandered through the tables until they reached the bar, sliding up onto the two barstools to the left of Clive McDonald. Maggie took the seat closest to the man, as planned.

  “Hey, aren’t you that fella I danced with at The Buffalo Club last Thursday night?”

  He cleared his throat as he turned his upper body toward her. He looked her over from her sparkling blue eyes down to her long shapely legs, which were amply exposed by her short skirt. “Sorry, honey, but I think I’d remember that.”

  “We were sittin’ over at our table and saw you walk in, and I bet my friend twenty dollars it was you I was dancin’ with.”

  “No, it wasn’t me, ladies. Sorry.”

  “He looks just like that guy at the club Thursday night,” Emily added. “Tall and handsome. I’m sure that’s him.”

  “I promise you, I wasn’t there Thursday night.” He shook his head then took a drink from his beer. “I wish it had been me,” he said with a leering grin.

  Peter stomped up behind the girls. “Is this the guy?” he growled. “I hear you were trying to steal Big Jake’s girl last Thursday night. ‘Cause if you were, I’m going to call—”

  “No, it wasn’t me, I swear.” Clive flinched and lifted his left hand in a small sign of surrender. “I was out of town last Thursday.” Clive pulled his glasses out of his shirt pocket and stuck them on.

  “Then prove it,” Peter barked.

  “I don’t have to prove anything.”

  “Fine, then I’ll give Big Jake a call and you can tell him that,” Peter said.

  “All right. Just to get you guys to leave me alone, I’ll show you.” Clive pulled his cell phone out of its holster on his belt. “Here, in my iPhone, my schedule for the month.”

  Emily leaned in to get a look.

  The man tapped a few icons and scrolled through his calendar, then turned the phone’s screen toward Peter. “There, you see. I was in Austin, Texas, at a conference for work that whole week, with hundreds of witnesses. I couldn’t be your guy. Now can I get back to my beer?”

  Peter huffed and pursed his lips. “Lucky for you you’re such a techno geek. Let’s go, Annabelle.” He helped Maggie off the barstool.

  “Sorry for the mix-up,” Maggie said.

  Peter dug a five-dollar bill out of his pocket and tossed it on the counter. “That beer’s on me.”

  With an expression of irritation and bewilderment on his face, Mr. McDonald grabbed up the cash and tucked it into his shirt pocket before picking up his beer again for another swig.

  “Yes, sorry about that.” Emily slid off the stool and quickly followed her friends out.

  Maggie and Peter burst out of the door and onto the sidewalk. She let out a long sigh of relief.

  Emily rushed out of the tavern after them. “Good job, Maggs,” Emily praised. “You too, Peter. I know I told you to stay in the background, but you surprised me and brought it home.”

  “You’re welcome.” Peter took a dramatic bow in the chilly night air. “Glad to do my part.”

  “We can’t just take his word for it, though.” Emily pulled out her phone to call Ernie.

  “Can’t you make that call from the car? I’m freezin’ out here,” Maggie cried, tugging her skirt down.

  ~*~

  Emily went home briefly to check out McDonald’s alibi before heading back to the hospital to spend the rest of the evening with Colin. When she reached his room, Ernie was sitting by his bed talking with him.

  “Hello, boys,” Emily greeted, stepping into the room.

  Both men greeted her in response. She went to Colin’s side and gave him a quick kiss.

  “How’d your meeting go with Clive McDonald?” Colin asked, curling his hand around hers.

  “He’s not our guy.”

  Disappointment spread across Colin’s face. “How do you know?”

  “The man has an alibi. He was in Texas at a conference all last week.”

  “Can we confirm that?” Colin asked.

  “Already done,” Emily said, turning her gaze to Ernie. “I left the details on your voicemail.”

  “Sorry, my phone’s off—hospital rules.” Ernie lumbered out of his chair. “I think I’d best be getting home to the wife—she’s holding supper for me.”

  “Wait, Ernie.” Colin struggled to sit up. “If the McDonald guy is in the clear, then we need to get hot on that list from San Francisco.” Colin’s voice rose with concern and urgency, wincing in mid-thought from the pain. “We don’t have much time to find out who’s framing me. My trial date will be here before you know it.”

  Emily ran her hand lightly over his shoulder in an effort to calm him. “We’re working on it. Your job right now is to get well.”

  “It doesn’t take much effort to work a computer and a cell phone.” He gingerly lay back against his pillows.

  “I can go over to your place when I leave here,” Emily suggested, �
��and pick up your laptop so you’ll have it tomorrow.”

  “Can you get it tonight?” Colin asked.

  “The doctor said you need to rest tonight, boy,” Ernie reminded him. “Tomorrow is soon enough.”

  “Fine,” he growled, crossing his arms. “I guess I’m outnumbered.”

  “Guess you are.” Ernie shot him a stern look.

  “All right, tomorrow.” Colin’s demeanor softened. “Thanks for stopping by, Ernie. Glad for the company.” Colin put out his hand and Ernie shook it.

  “Do we know when they’re discharging you?” Emily looked from Colin to Ernie.

  “Tomorrow morning, they said.” Colin offered a grateful smile.

  “That’s wonderful.” Emily smiled, purposely catching Colin’s gaze. “Isn’t it?”

  “Yeah, wonderful,” Colin repeated with a twinge of sarcasm.

  “And it’s so sweet of Marlene to help out, Ernie. Right, Colin?” Emily raised her eyebrows at Colin, seeking his agreement.

  “Yes, sweet.”

  “You’ll have your phone and your laptop tomorrow, not to mention Marlene’s great cooking,” Emily said. “You couldn’t be in better hands.”

  “Oh, she’s looking forward to it, Emily, like having one of our sons home again. Someone she can dote over, y’ know?” Ernie turned back to Colin. “Try to get some rest tonight and I’ll see you in the morning.”

  “Thanks, Ernie,” Emily called after him as he left.

  “Sorry for acting so surly, Babe. It’s just that I’m going stir crazy lying in this bed when there’s so much to do.”

  “I get it, really, but you need to relax and trust us. We’re all trying to help find whoever is framing you—even Maggie and Peter. You should have seen them tonight, they were amazing.” Emily gave Colin a blow-by-blow of their little operation down at the Ha’Penny.

  Holding his side from the pain, Colin laughed at her impersonation of the busty waitress. “You’re killing me, Emily.”

  They both froze and looked at each other, wide-eyed, in silence.

  “Sorry, poor choice of words,” he said.

  “In all seriousness, Colin, we need to narrow down that list of convicts from San Francisco and find out which one we should zero in on. I’d like to put a name to Mr. X.”

  Chapter 17

  After spending an hour or so with Colin at the hospital that evening, Emily dropped by his apartment to pick up his personal laptop. He hadn’t been there since Friday evening when he came to pick her up for their engagement party. Colin’s place was usually tidy—being in the marines taught him to keep his living quarters squared away, as he liked to say—but it looked to her like Detective Roberts and his men had been careless with Colin’s things during their search of his apartment. The place was a disaster.

  Anger rose up from her core, something she hadn’t felt in a long time. On top of everything else Colin had gone through these last few days, he didn’t need to come home and find his place in shambles. Alex had warned her that the police were treating him like a bad cop who had murdered someone in their law enforcement community. Forget innocent until proven guilty, they were acting as if he had already been convicted.

  Rage and empathy spurred her on. Emily grabbed hold of that fury and used it, spending the next couple of hours putting everything back in an orderly fashion so he wouldn’t see what a mess they had made.

  Going room by room, as she cleaned she searched for Colin’s laptop but didn’t find it anywhere. Could the detectives have taken it along with anything else they could find to incriminate him? It would have to be listed on the search warrant, wouldn’t it? She made a mental note to check with Alex on that.

  Would Ernie be able to bring Colin his work computer, now that he was suspended from the police force? It wasn’t likely.

  When putting the kitchen cupboards and drawers back together, the empty space in the wood block that held a full set of chef’s knives seemed to jump out at her. The detective claimed the knife they found there had been wiped clean, except for a miniscule amount of blood at the base of the knife. Clearly, the blood had to have been visible enough for one of the investigators to see it, or was it simply that the knife was the right size and depth to match the wounds? Was it luck or intention that the lab was able to find a trace amount of Allison Laraway’s blood when they tested it?

  Surely, Colin would not have been that careless if he had killed someone…unless he thought he had cleaned all the blood off and put it back thinking that a missing knife would draw attention. She shook her head to empty it of that thought.

  No, he would never have been that sloppy.

  And the ball cap, where in the apartment did they find Colin’s San Francisco Giants baseball hat. According to Alex, the detective claimed it had a small amount of Allison’s blood smeared on the edge of the brim, but no fingerprints or hairs. Sure, fingerprints would be difficult on fabric, but no sweat or skin cells in the inner band and no loose hairs, which would be expected.

  If the police found the knife and cap in Colin’s apartment, Mr. X had to have broken in and planted them. A wave of chills washed over her. If he had gotten in once, he could get in again. She grabbed her purse off the kitchen counter and felt inside for her gun. It was there. She calmed a little.

  Doing one last quick sweep of the apartment, she made sure each room was back in some semblance of order. Her work was done and she left.

  All the way home, an eerie uneasiness stayed with Emily. She couldn’t shake the creepy feeling of knowing the killer had been in Colin’s apartment. He could have gotten in several times if he got in once.

  How easy would it have been for him to take Colin’s prints and hair when he was there? Had he been in Colin’s Jeep, too? When were the police going to release it?

  Once home, Emily pulled up the security video from Allison’s condo again. She studied it in slow motion, looking for anything out of place, any hint that the video had been tampered with—something to show the man in the video was not Colin. But nothing stood out to her. It all looked too real. Her brain insisted it was Colin—her heart argued that it was not.

  The phone began to ring and she jumped, spooked out of her intense focus on the video. Snatching it up off the breakfast bar, she checked the caller ID before answering.

  “Hello, Ernie. What’s up?”

  “Sorry to call you so late, but I thought you’d want to know. I did a little checking into the man who shot Miranda to see if he’d gotten released early or anything—”

  “Yeah, what did you find?”

  “He’s dead. Murdered in prison not long ago,” Ernie said.

  “It was probably too much to hope Mr. X would be the first one on your list. There are a lot more names to check out.”

  “Don’t worry, I’m on it. Just thought you’d want to know Miranda’s killer isn’t our guy.”

  “I appreciate you letting me know. By the way, Ernie, it looks like the police took Colin’s laptop. It wasn’t at the apartment.”

  “I didn’t know that, but it makes sense. They’re looking for anything they can to back up their case.”

  “Do you think you’d be able to get his work laptop for him?”

  “Gosh, Emily, the Boise police took it too. They had a search warrant for it, and I’m sure they’re going through it with a fine-tooth comb.”

  “Oh.”

  Now what?

  “But you know, Marlene and I have a personal one at home. We’re happy to let him use it. Now, it won’t have the usernames and passwords saved in it for a lot of his law enforcement programs, though, but we’ll figure it out.”

  “He’ll appreciate that, Ernie.” Being able to do some research on the computer, help on his case in some way, would keep Colin from going stir crazy.

  “Anything we can do to lend a hand.”

  “Hey, while we were talking, I shot Alex a quick email and asked about Colin’s personal computer. He just replied and says Detective Roberts asked him abou
t it, it had been on their search warrant, but wasn’t at the apartment. They’ll probably show up at the hospital to ask him about it.”

  “I wonder where it could be,” Ernie said.

  “I’m thinking if Mr. X got into Colin’s place to plant the knife and the ball cap, he could have stolen the computer. That way he’d have full access to all of Colin’s personal information and his email. And that’s when he could have lifted Colin’s prints and picked up hairs to replant them at Allison’s place. What do you think, Ernie?”

  “Maybe so. This guy is devious and must have been planning this frame for months. Anyone close to Colin could be at risk. You be careful, Emily Parker.”

  Her phone beeped the call-waiting signal. It was coming from the Hilton Hotel.

  “Sorry, Ernie, but I have another call coming in. I’ll reconnect with you in the morning.”

  “Did you hear what I said?”

  Emily clicked onto the next call. “Hello.”

  “Hi, Emily. This is Trudie. I apologize for the lateness of the hour, but I’m heading home soon and I wanted to let you know that I spoke with the security supervisor. He said he’d need a court order to release the security footage, company policy, which is what I thought he’d say. He’s just trying to protect the hotel.”

  “And cover his butt, sounds like.” Emily thanked her friend for trying to help.

  Before getting back to her computer, Emily put her teakettle on the stove to boil. Since leaving Colin’s apartment, she hadn’t been able to warm up from the nervous chill that settled on her. Maybe a hot cup of chamomile tea would help.

  While Emily waited for the kettle to whistle, she slid up onto the barstool and took another look at the security video. It was plain as day that the Jeep Wrangler had Colin’s license plate. And it certainly looked like Colin with Allison at the door to her building, although his face was never actually seen. But the build, the hair, the clothes, the baseball cap—anyone could be made to think it was Colin. How could she know for certain—and prove to Detective Roberts—that it was not?

  She watched the video repeatedly, hardly able to keep her eyes open. There had to be something there, something she was missing. The kettle began to whistle, breaking Emily’s concentration. She poured her cup and ran through the video once more. Exhausted, she clicked the computer off and went to bed, hoping the tea would settle her down enough to get some rest.