by Lauren Carr
"Gould's accountant just told me," Finch said. "You probably thought I didn’t know about Gould's rainy day account."
"Rainy day account?" Bogie asked.
"Many rich men have off-shore, secret accounts that they keep hidden from the IRS," Mac said in a low voice.
"It was from that account that Gould transferred the fifteen mil to your secret account," Finch said.
"Your chief of security said that text was a phony sent from a burn phone.”
“And being a detective, you know all about using burn phones, don’t you?” Finch replied. “You know what I think. I think you used a burn phone and your name to make it look like someone was framing you.”
“I didn’t send Gould that text, and if I had fifteen million deposited into my account, which wasn’t my account, I'd know about it," Mac said. “Believe it or not, I don’t have a rainy day account.”
“Why not?” Bogie asked.
“Don’t need one. I’ve lived through monsoons,” Mac said with a wave of his hand. “I’ve developed the back of a duck. Rain just rolls off me.”
“To get back to the hundred mil that you stole off me—”
“You?” Mac grinned. “Now it’s not Gould, but you.”
Finch grit his teeth. "Gould's accountant transferred fifteen million to someone’s off-shore account yesterday afternoon. Then, when he checked on his accounts just now, since we notified him about Gould's murder, he found that at nine-twenty-two last night, someone hacked into that same account and emptied it. Someone stole one hundred and twenty million dollars from me." He jabbed himself in the chest with his thumb.
"IT investigators have to be able to track the transfer," Mac said.
"It went into the same account that you gave Gould yesterday," Finch said.
"I did not send that text to Gould," Mac said, with a flap of his arms. "How many times do I have to tell you?"
"Our forensics people can track those texts to find out the location they were sent from," Bogie said.
"This theft has to be the motive for Gould's murder," Mac said.
“But what does it have to do with Raymond Hollister and David?” Bogie asked.
Mac turned to Kyle Finch, whose face was red with fury. “Did Stan Gould ever have any business dealings with Raymond Hollister?”
Kyle Finch rolled his eyes like an immature teenager. “Who the hell is Raymond Hollister?”
“How about Lacey?” Mac asked Karin, who was already shaking her head.
“Never heard of him.”
"They killed them for the money, and they’re going to get away with it," Finch said. "Hands-off. Not like some mugging or car-jacking. The guy hacked into the account and emptied it. He may not have even been in the country for all we know. All he had to do was get Gould to open the door to send the first fifteen million, and then he stuck his foot in and took out all the rest."
"Sounds like you know pretty well how to do it," Mac said. "And now that Gould is dead, you're not only sitting on his company, but maybe you got a nice big bonus, too."
"That thief got the money,” Finch said. “It’s gone and I’m not holding my breath until we track him down to get it back. If he's smart enough to get in to steal the money without even touching him, then why kill Gould?"
“Good question,” Bogie said.
"One hundred and twenty million dollars," Mac said. "You know your boss, Finch. Do you seriously think he wouldn’t use all of his resources to hunt down the guy who stole all that money to make him pay?"
Bogie agreed. “Dead men don’t hunt. We need to contact Gould’s accountant to find out exactly what happened and where that money went. We’ll get the state police computer forensics people on following that money trail.”
“Follow the money and it might take us to Gould’s and Lacey’s killer,” Mac said.
With a wicked smirk, Finch said, “Like you’re smart enough to catch him.”
Mac’s cheeks felt warm. He resisted the urge to punch Finch in his laughing face.
While Bogie was collecting the contact information for Stan Gould’s accountant from Kyle Finch, Mac went back to the study to take a look at the laptop he’d found. He was wishing that Archie was with him to examine it. She would know more about what to look for than he did.
Surprisingly, the laptop didn’t have a password. When he hit the enter key, the screen opened up to the home page. The image was of Lacey in royal blue satin bra and panties. He opened up the email program to discover Lacey’s inbox. While it was downloading her new e-mails, Mac searched through what appeared to be her briefcase. Her cell phone, a sleek black smart phone, was on the side pocket.
Mac checked out what Lacey had on her cell phone. There were several calls made to and received from Kyle Finch. With message after message from Stan Gould’s second-in-command, including pictures; the text messages were more telling..
When Mac opened one, he was so stunned that he had to juggle the phone to keep from dropping it. When he managed to regain his grip on the device, he peered at the image with only one eye while holding his breath. Yep, that’s exactly what it looks like.
“Find anything?” Bogie came into the study.
“You might say I have.” Mac held up the phone for Bogie to see for himself.
The screen was filled with a close up of an erect penis. The caller ID read Kyle. The text message: Thinking of U.
“Whoa,” Bogie breathed.
“Whoa is right.”
“Do you ever send texts like that to Archie?”
“Why send her pictures when she can see the real deal anytime she wants?” Mac chuckled. “I think we have more of a motive for Finch killing Stan Gould. But why Lacey?”
“She was going to blow the whistle on him,” Bogie said.
“Something else is suspicious about this cell phone,” Mac said.
Bogie’s eyes narrowed. “Didn’t Karin say she got a text from Lacey last night—from her cell phone?”
Mac pressed the buttons on the cell phone until he found the last text sent. “Here it is. Sent at nine-thirty-two last night. What time did Finch say that money was stolen out of Gould’s account?”
“Nine-twenty-two,” Bogie said.
“Ten minutes before allegedly Lacey sent this text.” Mentally, Mac was forming a time line. “The message to Gould and Lacey told them to meet me at the castle at eight. If they got there and were killed at eight o’clock, then what was happening for the hour and twenty-two minutes?”
“Maybe the killer didn’t kill them right away,” Bogie said. “Maybe he got held up.”
“Another thing,” Mac shook the phone for Bogie to see. “Lacey sent the text to Karin from this cell phone—”
“How did that cell phone end up back here?” Bogie whipped an evidence bag out of his pocket and held it open for Mac to drop inside. “The killer must have brought it back here.”
“And why poison Raymond Hollister and why shoot David?” Mac asked. “What do all of them have in common?”
“We’re talking overkill here, Mac,” Bogie said. “Shoot David. Strangle a woman who happens to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, just to get access to a man’s breakfast to poison him. Whoever did this is a psychopath.”
“And we’re going to get him before he strikes again.”
Chapter Sixteen
“Well, if it isn’t the ghost castle owner.” Dr. Doris Washington tittered when he came into her medical examiner’s office. She rolled away from where she was sitting at her desk in the corner of her examination room and whirled her chair around to face him.
“Okay, I admit it.” Mac stepped up to her. “I still don’t believe in ghosts, but I am starting to believe a place can be cursed.” He cast a glance in the direction of the two charred bodies on two o
f her examination tables. Two more examination tables contained bodies covered with sheets.
“Taking into account all the things that I’ve seen people do to each other, I do believe in evil—very much so,” Dr. Washington said. “Many scientists make it a point not to believe in God and a divine intelligent maker. But maybe it’s because I’ve seen the result of so much evil come through this office that I understand I can’t possibly know everything about our universe and our maker. Explain this: how is it that you found Damian Wagner’s body?”
“You know that,” Mac said. “The wind in the turret blew the door shut and locked it so that we had to go out the other turret, which is where Damian Wagner’s body was hidden.”
“Really?” she asked. “I was in that turret. It was air-tight, and that door was extremely heavy. No wind could have blown it shut.”
“So you think what?” Mac asked with a crooked grin. “Damian Wagner’s ghost closed the door and locked it to force us through the other turret so that we’d find his body and reopen his case? I don’t think so.”
“Why is that so unbelievable?”
“I’ve investigated hundreds of murder cases, and I have yet to have a ghost for a witness or a suspect.”
It was her turn to smile. “There’s always a first time.”
“Not this time.” Mac stepped over to the examination tables. “Are they Stan Gould and his wife?”
“DNA from the tooth brushes that you picked up at the hotel says they are,” she said. “They were shot multiple times with the same gun. The slugs I recovered from the bodies are from the same gun used to shoot David.”
“Then they found the slugs from the shooting?” he asked.
She nodded her head. “Both of them.”
“That means David’s shooting is connected to the Gould murders.” Mac moved over to a third gurney. He lifted the sheet to discover that it was Raymond Hollister’s body. “And the car the shooter was driving was burnt up at the castle. That car was rented by Raymond Hollister, who was poisoned. Have you been able to identify the poison used?”
“Hemlock,” she said. “It was chopped up and sprinkled over his eggs and stirred into his tomato juice. It resembles parsley, which is why he didn’t notice it.”
“First, David was shot.” Mac lifted the sheet over the fourth body and frowned. She was an attractive slender woman with long auburn hair. He saw a bruise across her throat. “Sue was strangled.”
Dr. Washington laid her finger on the bruise. “Whatever she was strangled with was thin and left a minute residue in the wound. It could have been a leather strap—like a belt.”
“We’ve found no witnesses,” Mac said. “In the parking garage, around shift change, with employees coming and going. Sue was killed in a blind spot in the garage where there were no security cameras.”
The medical examiner’s eyebrows rose up on her forehead. “Sounds like a professional. Our killer definitely knew what he was doing.”
“Cleaning up loose ends from what?” Mac ticked off. “We have a shooting, a strangling, a poisoning, and a double shooting with the bodies set on fire. Why burn up their bodies?”
“The Goulds were killed last night.”
“That’s what I suspected,” Mac said. “But the fire wasn’t started until this morning. Why go back to set fire to the bodies? No one goes to the castle. The killer could have been long gone before anyone found the bodies, at which point they would have been decomposed. Why draw attention to them by setting the place on fire?”
“Maybe the killer wasn’t in a position to leave,” she said. “Job, family, unfinished business—like shooting David and poisoning Hollister.”
“Why did the killer target all of them?” Mac asked. “There has to be a connection between David, Hollister, and the Goulds.”
“It’s your job to find that connection.” A slow grin crossed her face, making her look like cat that had just eaten a canary.
“What else do you have to tell me?” he asked her.
“It may or may not mean anything,” she said. “But since you brought in Damian Wagner’s body, as part of procedure, we compile a DNA profile. At the same time, I went ahead and did a DNA profile on the other victims and discovered …”
When she fell silent, Mac asked, “What?”
“Genevieve was not his daughter.”
“Whose daughter was she?”
“That’s—”
“—for me to figure out,” Mac finished while his cell phone buzzed. “I know.” He checked the caller ID which read, BOGIE.
“Hey, Mac,” Bogie asked, “are you coming back to the station?”
Mac checked the time on the clock over the wall. It was almost five o’clock and he wanted to see David before visiting hours ended at seven. “What have you got?”
“A possible break or a complication,” Bogie said. “Hollister’s phone logs shows that he called three people yesterday. First call he made on his cell was to his office manager, who happens to be his girlfriend. She called him back two hours later. In the meantime, he called an actors’ booking agent. He was on the phone with him a good thirteen minutes. The third call was to a private investigator, after he talked to his girlfriend the second time. He talked to the PI for forty-three minutes. The PI called him back on his cell last night at eleven-thirty, and they talked for another seventeen minutes. I’ve been trying to get in touch with all of them and just got off the phone with the girlfriend.”
“What did she say?” Mac asked.
“Hollister was fixated on locating Damian Wagner’s last book.”
“That’s what he was working on when he was staying at the castle.”
“But the book disappeared,” Bogie said. “Yesterday, Hollister got a lead on who possibly had it.”
“Well, if the book disappeared when Damian Wagner was killed, then it’s very possible that his killer had it. Did the girlfriend have a name?”
“Taylor Jones.”
“Who’s Taylor Jones, and where does she fit into all this?” Mac asked.
“You’ve got me,” Bogie said. “Hollister asked his girlfriend to hunt for Jones on the Internet. That’s what she did until she gave up and called him to tell him that she had struck out. After talking to her, he called the PI. I’ll want confirmation, but I think we can assume that after the usual route in the Internet, he stepped things up by having the PI dig deeper.”
“It’ll be interesting to find out what the PI uncovered.” Mac went on to ask, “Have you been to the hospital to see David?”
“I stopped in but he was asleep,” Bogie said. “Are you going in?”
“I’m going over now,” Mac said. “I want to get there before visiting hours are over.”
“Give him my best and tell him that we’re all praying for him here at the station.”
Mac could feel exhaustion setting in when he pulled his SUV into the hospital parking lot. Adrenaline had held it at bay during the day, but when he saw the sun setting while he was making his way from Deep Creek Lake to Oakland, he realized that he’d been going nonstop since six o’clock that morning.
Gnarly’s head hung where he sat in the passenger seat. With his eyes heavy lidded, he looked like he was about to collapse. The rush from the stolen coffee and energy bars had worn off. The German Shepherd had crashed. Leaving the window open a crack, Mac left the dog in the SUV to catch a nap while he went inside to go up to David’s room.
Mac didn’t realize that he hadn’t eaten all day until the smells of food drifting out of the cafeteria met his nostrils to cause his stomach to churn with hunger. He was tempted to stop in to grab something to eat; but, according to the clock in the hospital corridor, time was short. If he wanted to see David, he had to hurry.
He found two Spencer officers flanking the door. One that Ma
c knew as Brewster checked the time on his watch. “You’ve got twenty minutes before visiting hours are over.”
“Is Archie in there?” Mac asked.
“She and the other lady went home about ten minutes ago,” Brewster said. “They took the dog with them.”
The other officer, Zigler said, “That is a nice dog. Beautiful.”
“Gorgeous,” Brewster agreed with a nod of his head.
“Mild mannered,” Zigler said. “You wouldn’t have even known she was here. Sat and stayed quiet all afternoon.”
“Archie bought us dinner,” Brewster said. “These massive subs—stuffed us. Molly didn’t even think of begging. And when we offered her a bite, she refused to take it until we told her that it was okay.”
Zigler jabbed Brewster in the ribs with his elbow. “Do you remember the time Gnarly held up the pizza delivery truck and refused to let it leave the station until the guy handed over his garlic sticks?”
“Some dogs have bigger personalities than others.” Mac stepped forward to go into the room, but the two officers blocked his way. They exchanged wicked grins.
“Is it true that Gnarly was dishonorably discharged from the army?” Zigler asked.
Mac’s cheeks felt warm. “Yes,” he answered in a low voice.
“What’d he do?” Brewster wanted to know.
“I have no idea. The army says it’s classified and gets mad when anyone asks them about Gnarly.” Using his hands as a wedge, Mac parted the two men blocking his access to the door and pushed his way into the room.
“I think he stole a general’s lunch,” Brewster said with a laugh.
When he went around the privacy curtain into the patient area, Mac found David sitting up. He was still wearing the oxygen tube across his face and up his nostrils. His eyes were narrowed to slits, but Mac could see that he was awake and had heard them outside.
Mac moved up next to the bed. “Hey, how are you feeling?” He took David’s hand into both of his.
David grasped his fingers. “Like I was cut in half by a train,” he said in a hoarse whisper.