A Murderous Game

by Paris Patricia

  Abby wrung her hands. An irrational desire to scream built in her chest. She wanted to tell the detective there were dozens of people who might have wanted to murder her ex. The line probably stretched across the Ben Franklin Bridge. A line she'd stood in a few times. But of course she hadn't done it, nor could she think of any one person in particular who stood out as a probable suspect.

  "Relax, Mrs. Carpenter, we can come back to that after you've had a chance to think on it." Simms sounded solicitous. "Maybe it would be easier if we started with some of his friends. Is there anyone he was close to, other than family members?"

  "Harold Billings," she said, giving him the first and only name to pop into her head. "Dick had a number of acquaintances but was probably closer to Harold than anyone."

  Rachael, who had been at the townhouse when the police showed up that evening, took Abby's hand and held it, as if to say, I'm right here with you, honey. Abby looked at her and smiled, glad to have someone who cared at her side.

  Simms wrote the name on his tablet and then looked at her again, raising an expectant brow.

  "They knew each other since college," she said in response to his silent urging. "They were roommates at University of Penn and have been friends since, about ten years. He was the best man at our wedding."

  "Would your husband have told Mr. Billings if he were in any kind of trouble?"

  "I don't know. They spent a lot of time together, but I really can't say if they confided in each other or just hung out." She couldn't imagine Dick and Harold sitting around sharing their personal problems, but then there had been a lot about her ex-husband she hadn't known.

  "Are you and Mr. Billings good friends as well?"

  Abby cleared her throat. "We work for the same marketing firm."

  Simms looked at her, his tongue working the inside of his cheek. "Did you help him get a position there or did he help you?"

  "Neither. Not directly anyway. Shortly after I went to work for the company, I mentioned to Dick that Mr. Norwell—he owns the firm—was looking to hire another account manager. Dick told Harold and he applied for the job."

  "Umm, I see."

  Abby wasn't sure if he did. She didn't see how Billings working for the same firm or whether he was her friend had anything to do with Dick's murder, though, so she saw no reason to say more.

  "I'll want to talk to Mr. Billings and possibly some of your other coworkers. I hope you don't mind."

  By Monday they would have all heard or read about Dick's murder. It wasn't every day a senator's son was killed, and the local press would be all over it. Maybe the press wouldn't bring her name into things since she and Dick had been divorced. She hoped to God that would be the case. She didn't know if she could stand being connected with another scandal.

  "Of course not," she said, knowing he didn't need her permission. "Perhaps Harold will be able to tell you something or know some other people Dick was friendly with who can help. I doubt any of my other coworkers will know anything, though."

  "You never know," Simms said. "Sometimes what seems inconsequential leads to an important piece of information."

  The other detective, Baker, had been standing by the side of the couch watching her. He seemed restless. She wished he'd sit down and stop frowning at her.

  "Let's try this again," the man said abruptly. "You said your husband knew a lot of people. Surely you can think of at least one or two who didn't get along with him."

  Abby stared at Baker a moment, taken back by his accusatory tone. There was no reason for him to be so rude when she was trying to be helpful. Go away, she thought, put off by his abrasive manner.

  "Come on, Mrs. Carpenter," he said. "You were married to the man. Do you expect us to believe you can't name a single person who might have held something against him?"

  "Stop trying to bait her." Rachael let go of Abby's hand and jumped up to face the younger detective. "You want her to make you a list of people who might have had it in for Dick?" She snorted as if he were an idiot. "It would take all night. The guy was a bastard."

  Abby gasped. She shot Rachael a warning with her eyes, then looked at the two detectives for a reaction. Rachael threw her arms up in the air. "Well, it's true. Please forgive me if that sounds insensitive, but when you start talking to other people, it won't be the last time you hear it."

  The doorbell rang, followed by an insistent knocking. Simms looked at Abby and raised his brows. "Are you expecting someone?"

  "No." She started to get up, but Rachael put a hand on her shoulder.

  "I'll see who it is. You talk to the good detectives." She narrowed her eyes at Baker as if issuing a silent warning, then looked at Simms and smirked. "Why don't you make him heel?" she said, then went to answer the door.

  "I'm glad you're here," Abby heard Rachael say from behind her. "The cops got here about twenty minutes ago, and they're starting to go for her throat."

  Abby glanced over her shoulder. Gage was striding toward her with long, angry strides. His eyes swept over the detectives with a fierceness that startled her.

  "Abby." He went down in front of her, balancing on one knee, and took her hands. The dangerous predator vanished as he searched her face, his fingers caressing hers gently.

  "Dick was murdered," she said, surprised by her lack of emotion. She'd been married to the man. Shouldn't she feel some loss or pain? She felt numb more than anything. She was sorry, yes, mostly because she'd imagined killing him and now he was dead. That was guilt, though, not an honest sense of loss. The reality made her feel even more guilty that she couldn't dredge up something more.

  "Someone shot him…at his townhouse." She chewed the corner of her lip.

  He nodded. His eyes were full of concern. "I know. The press has already gotten hold of it and made it this evening's top news story. I tried to call but your line was busy." He stood up and glanced at Simms, his expression hardening. "You don't have to talk to them tonight if you don't feel like it," he said, still holding her hand.

  "It's okay." She was glad he'd come. Whatever the reason, his presence grounded her. "They're just doing their job. Will you stay until they're through, though? I feel better with you here." Something stirred in the pewter depths regarding her that made her heart race.

  "I'll stay." He held her gaze a moment longer before angling away from the detectives and addressing Rachael. "I think Abby could use something to take the edge off." He shot a glance toward the kitchen. "Can you show me where she keeps things?"

  "Sure, I think I could use something myself." Just before the two of them entered the kitchen, Rachael turned. "Would either of the good detectives like a drink? I'd be happy to fix you something." She smiled sweetly. "Perhaps a gin and toxic."

  One corner of Simms's mouth lifted in wry amusement. "Thanks for the hospitality, but I'm afraid we'll have to pass."

  "Oh, how silly of me," Rachael effected her best drawl, "duty and all that. Pity."

  Abby watched Gage follow her friend out of the room. He was up to something. It had nothing to do with fixing them all a drink, either, even if she could use one.

  She pushed her hands through her hair, taking a moment to rub her temples before directing her attention back to the detectives. "Don't mind Rachael." She smiled in spite of the apology. "She's just being protective. She doesn't mean anything by it."

  "Oh, I'm sure she does." There was a flash of humor in Simms's eyes, but it left as quickly as it came. He inclined his head toward the kitchen. "Who's the guy?"

  A simple question, so why did it make her pulse race? "Gage Faraday." Abby tried to sound matter of fact. "He's one of my business clients."

  Simms raised a dubious looking brow. "I see."

  Those two words again. And again Abby had the distinct feeling he saw something other than she intended.

  The detective made a few more notes. She was tempted to ask what he was writing but held back, unsure why and positive he wouldn't tell her anyway.

  Baker paced, look
ing toward the door Gage and Rachael had disappeared beyond as if he suspected they were doing something illegal in the kitchen. What was wrong with the man? Abby didn't think she liked Baker much. Simms she couldn't get a good enough read on to decide.

  "How long have you been working for Mr. Faraday?" Simms asked.

  "He hired our firm a little over a month ago. Gage's company is responsible for the new development going in along the river."

  "I read about it. Wasn't your husband a developer as well?"

  "Yes." Why did he keep looking at her like that? She stretched her neck.

  Under normal circumstances she'd consider Simms an extremely handsome man. He was similar in size and build to Gage. Where Gage's hair was almost black, though, Simms's was dark blond shot through with natural highlights. Whereas Gage's eyes were grey, Simms's were brown, so dark to be almost black, and unnervingly probing.

  Abby clasped her hands in her lap. "Dick bid on the project, but the city awarded it to GFI. That's Mr. Faraday's company." Why had she switched to calling him by his last name? Maybe because those darker than night eyes brought to mind a hunter, and alarmingly, she had begun to feel a little bit like the hunted. It had to be her imagination, or perhaps her guilt. It served her right for playing her little game with so much relish.

  "Interesting." he made another note. "So you took a job working for the competition."

  "I work for whatever client my firm assigns me," she informed him, wondering at the direction of his questioning. "And I'm not sure what that has to do with Dick's murder."

  "It's just an observation." He exchanged glances with his partner. "Should we expect any more of your clients to show up tonight to check on your welfare?"

  Abby opened her mouth and stared back at him, drawing a blank at his question.

  "Or is there some other reason Mr. Faraday felt compelled to rush to your side when he heard about your husband's death?"

  ~~~

  "I came because Abby and I are friends." Gage answered the detective himself as he came back into the living room. He was barely able to contain his anger at their leading questions.

  He walked to the couch, a drink in each hand. "It isn't unusual, detective, for people who work together to form friendships." He sat down next to Abby and handed her one of the drinks. "Sip it," he said. "It's strong."

  Simms slanted him a glance, quirking his lip in a way that annoyed Gage.

  "So you and the decedent's wife are more than business associates?" the detective asked.

  "Ex-wife," Gage clipped off, "and my relationship with her is none of your damn business. It has nothing to do with your investigation."

  Simms gave him an assessing glance. "Then you shouldn't mind my questions."

  "Wrong. Aside from being leading and irrelevant, they're making her uncomfortable. You don't have a warrant, and she's not on trial here. So stop making her feel like it."

  "Nothing is irrelevant in a murder investigation." The detective glanced at his notes. "And I didn't realize your friendship with each other was an uncomfortable subject." His gaze slid from Gage to Abby and back again. "Was it a sore spot with the deceased as well?"

  "Back off," Gage warned. The muscle in his jaw flexed as he studied Simms. The detective returned his appraisal in unspoken challenge, and Gage recognized a formidable opponent in the other man. It didn't matter. He'd do whatever he had to in order to protect Abby.

  Rachael sank into one of the club chairs with a chuckle. Gage glanced at her. She dipped a finger into her drink then brought it to her lips and licked it.

  "Play nice, boys." She looked from him to Simms over the rim of her glass. "It'd be a shame to get blood all over the carpet."

  "Rach," Abby said, sounding embarrassed. She touched Gage's hand. His gaze snapped to hers.

  "I don't think Detective Simms meant to be offensive. It's not like he's accusing me of murdering Dick."

  Gage wanted to groan. They might not have accused her, but he had no doubt she'd be their primary suspect, at least in the beginning. Aside from the fact spouses were always considered suspects, Carpenter's scandalous affairs and their recent divorce only increased the likelihood her name would be at the top of their list. She probably didn't realize the vulnerable position she was in. And that was dangerous.

  "Is that right, Detective?" Gage asked. "Or should Abby be contacting a lawyer?"

  Simms shrugged. "The spouse is always considered a suspect in a murder case." His eyes shifted to Abby. "No offense, just routine until we can eliminate you." He smiled at her, almost in apology, but Gage had no illusions this detective would go easy on her or anyone else he believed guilty.

  Abby furrowed her brow. "I didn't kill Dick," she said, matter of fact, as if she expected they'd take her word for it. She looked at Simms for several seconds. Gage saw the moment she realized they didn't believe her. Her eyes widened. He felt her fingers flex against his.

  "She's been through enough tonight." He stood up abruptly. "If you want to talk to her again, you're going to have to do it another time."

  Baker started forward, but Simms held up a hand and shook his head. He pulled out a business card and handed it to Abby. "We appreciate your time, Mrs. Carpenter. If you think of anything that might be helpful, please call me at this number."

  He stood up. "I'd appreciate it if you would notify me first if you need to leave town for any reason."

  At her quick intake of breath Simms's expression softened. "Don't be alarmed; it's just procedure." He flicked a glance toward Gage. "That goes for you, too, Faraday," he advised in a less conciliatory tone. "Don't leave unless you clear it through me first."

  Gage crossed his arms. "I wouldn't dream of it."

  "What?" Abby shot up. "Why are you—" Gage touched her arm.

  "Let it go," he said softly. "It's part of the game."

  Simms chuckled, but when he spoke his voice held no humor. "A man's been murdered, Mr. Faraday, and from what I've observed I have to wonder if you might not have had motive of your own. Regardless, I don't play games, and I'd advise you not to make the mistake of trying to engage me in one."

  Abby began to object and Gage wove his fingers through hers to hold her back.

  Simms looked pointedly at him before turning to his partner. "Let's go," he said. He gave Abby a parting nod. "Mrs. Carpenter. Sorry to intrude on your night."

  When the detectives reached the door, Simms turned back around. "Just one more question, Mrs. Carpenter." He waited until Abby looked at him. "Your ex-husband's gun, do you remember what kind it was?"

  "I…he..." She shook her head. "He didn't own a gun."

  Simms cocked his head. "Are you sure about that?"

  "No, Detective," she said with a swallow, "right now I don't feel sure about anything."

  He gave her what might have passed as a smile and nodded. "Goodnight then."

  Rachael bolted out of her chair. "Oh, Detective Simms," she called after him. "You know, I probably despised Dickhead as much as anyone. Why once, just trying to enlighten him, I explained the correlation between cheating men and septic waste. Instead of appreciating the lesson, he called me an interfering bitch. I really didn't appreciate it. In fact, you should probably add my name to that list of yours."

  Without looking back Simms informed her rather blandly, "I already have Ms. Gooding."

  Despite disliking the man, Gage was hard-pressed to suppress a grin. He glanced at Rachael. She didn't look amused.

  ~~~

  "So what do you think? Did she pop him?"

  Gene clicked his seatbelt and turned on the ignition. "She had motive, but from what I observed so did Faraday."

  "Guy seems to have a problem with cops," Baker said.

  "I'd say he has a problem with anyone he thinks might pose a threat to Abby Carpenter."

  "He's probably worried if we nail her for murder, he'll lose his playmate."

  Gene glanced across the seat at his new partner. Baker had been in the unit less than a m
onth. His uncle had contributed major bucks to the mayor's reelection campaign. The general consensus among the other detectives was Baker got the job because of his uncle's generosity. Although he wouldn't add fuel to the fire, Gene figured they were probably right.

  It wouldn't be the first time politics had preempted fairness, or even common sense. Baker was overeager, and he didn't have the experience to move right out of patrol into violent crime. Gene had his orders, though, so he'd do as he was instructed and teach the guy the ropes. With a little luck, the rookie wouldn't knit a noose big enough for both their necks.

  "Is that your take?"

  "That she's his lover? Yeah, without a doubt. You're not going to tell me you don't think so?"

  "If they're having an affair, we'll know soon enough. But it does appear Faraday's appointed himself her protector. Carpenter might have told us a lot more if he hadn't shown up."

  "We could bring her down to the station."

  Gene pulled the radio out of its holder. "Not until we've got more to go on. Here." He passed the radio across the seat. "I want a car posted outside her townhouse. No one goes in, no one goes out I don't know about it."

  Baker nodded. "So which one of them do you think did it? Or do you think they're in it together?"

  "I won't know who did it until I have all the evidence. I've heard enough about Dick Carpenter's womanizing to know it couldn't have been easy on her. So she had motive. Whether it was powerful enough—" Gene shrugged.

  "If she and Faraday are more than what Carpenter claims, then the same goes for him," he continued. "That doesn't make either one of them guilty. Obvious suspects, yeah, but obvious isn't always the right answer." Gene flicked his partner a glance. "Let's not make the mistake of closing the case before we know what the hell we've got."

  Baker radioed in to headquarters.

  Gene really wasn't sure what he thought about Abby Carpenter. He'd have preferred to question her alone, without Gooding or Faraday present, but they hadn't had much choice about that tonight. They'd only gone to inform her about the murder and see what they could find out.