Beachcomber Investigations: A Romantic Detective Series Novel - Book 1

by Stephanie Queen

  “Or if need be, we can keep the information all to ourselves. Until later when you have your press conference.” He stared down the SAC, not in his shark-like way, but in his serious-as-an-undertaker way.

  “Mark,” the governor said, “we would rather share the information and see you get credit to ensure that whoever shot at our friend Mr. Acerman comes to justice.”

  Evans knew an opening when he saw one and nodded. He dispatched his assistants to assemble the suspects. Not including Peck, who in Dane’s mind was the biggest suspect of all.

  Dane watched Peck turn blood red and hold his tongue like he was a teapot boiling over. Peck was not stupid and he might not have figured out what Dane had up his sleeve, but he knew it was something.

  Dane was the first to intrude on Shana’s party. He swept open the door and walked straight for the chair next to her. Peck followed, with Cap right behind. The two agents lead Wally the sniper and Sebastian Whitaker each to the other side of the table. Sebastian, Fiona and Wally sat on one side of the sturdy table in that order, while Dane, Shana, Cap and Peck sat on the other side.

  Chapter 13

  “Who hired Wallace White?” Dane asked Sebastian.

  The man didn’t even blink.

  Wally said, “It was Fiona, I told you—”

  “No, Sebastian must have used my phone by mistake,” Fiona said.

  “We never saw your phone,” Shana said. “Because the FBI never confiscated it. Remember?”

  “Seems like maybe you were being protected, Mrs. Whitaker,” Dane said. He watched Sebastian turn to her with a deadly stare.

  “No—what are you talking about? I only ever did what my husband told me to do.”

  “Who told you to have your father set up a meeting with the governor?”

  She said nothing.

  Sebastian’s face turned dark. “What did you do, Fiona?”

  “Nothing. I was frightened. You told me Harry the Hacker came around looking for money.”

  “Who else did you tell about that?” Dane asked.

  “This is getting us nowhere,” Peck said. He glared at Fiona. “Sebastian had his prison crony set up the shootings—”

  “What prison cronies?” Sebastian said. “I don’t know anything about that—I don’t know who this Wallace White is.”

  Dane nodded and said to Peck, “Did I mention that I checked with a friend of mine at the prison?” He paused. “And she confirmed that Whitaker here had no contact with the notorious prisonmate you’re referring to. In fact, he was a model—”

  “I have proof otherwise,” Peck said. “Written proof. Notes.”

  Cap scoffed. “The day a notorious fellow like that leaves a written trail of proof is the day—”

  “He had no idea we’d be checking,” Peck said, more agitated.

  Dane saw the gleam of moisture around Peck’s hairline. He was starting to lose his cool.

  “Wally, we traced the money deposited into your account without your knowledge and it turns out to have originated from a Swiss bank account with three names on it.”

  Sebastian Whitaker turned pale.

  “You know something about the account, Mr. Whitaker?”

  He said nothing, but he darted his eyes at Peck.

  Dane decided to leave that suggestion hanging.

  Shana spoke up then. “Mr. Whitaker, why didn’t you go home to your wife’s house after you were released from prison?”

  “We live next door to my father-in-law. I knew I wouldn’t be welcome.”

  “So you hid?” Shana let her skepticism ring.

  “I was afraid of him. He was going to kill me—”

  “What made you think that?” Shana asked.

  He darted his eyes at Fiona. “She told me.” He paused and said, “It wasn’t true, was it? You wanted to keep me away—when I finally dared to come home, you weren’t expecting me—”

  “Stop it. Of course it was true. Dad hated you,” Fiona said. Her voice shrilled and she tried to scuff her chair back away from her husband but she butted into Wally White.

  “Who cares? This has nothing to do with the case,” Peck said with more calm than before.

  Dane decided to test that calm.

  “I think it has everything to do with the case,” Dane said. “Here’s how I think things worked. I think Fiona did hire Wally White to kill Harry Small the hacker when he showed up looking for money just before Mr. Whitaker was to be released. Mr. Whitaker shared this information with his wife and was nervous, but not murderous. He wanted to get access to the money and leave town. We found evidence of his travel plans after a forensic investigation was done of his motel computer.” Dane was making that up, but no one except Sebastian Whitaker would know this and he wouldn’t let on. Plus, Dane might be right. He noted that Shana and Cap held back any surprise they felt.

  “Fiona passed that information about Harry wanting money to the third party on the bank account and that put the plan to hire Wally the Sniper into motion. But instead of just taking care of Harry, the sniper was hired to scare off Acerman as well—just in case he knew what Harry knew. But who was this third person?”

  “I never killed Harry the Hacker—never even heard of him,” Wally spoke up. “So stop saying that.”

  “No, you didn’t. In fact, hiring you was almost an afterthought. But they needed to set someone up for killing Harry and it couldn’t be you, Sebastian, not directly. So they had your prisonmate set up as Harry’s employer. And Fiona made the call.”

  Dane let that thought sit for a few beats. Sure enough, Sebastian looked at his wife and his implacable look turned ugly.

  “You set me up—”

  Dane caught him just as he jumped from his chair ready to grab for her neck. The two FBI agents standing by helped subdue him and pulled him back, holding his arms.

  “Take him out of here,” Peck yelled.

  “No.” Dane wasn’t ready for that yet. Not by a long shot. Peck didn’t like where this interrogation was going and Dane, therefore, liked it very much.

  “I want him out of here,” Fiona screeched.

  “No.” Dane spoke more forcefully this time. “He’s not going to touch you. Not that you don’t deserve it.”

  “You can’t say that—you’re despicable.” Fiona turned to Shana. “Are you going to let him do this? He’s horrible.”

  Shana smiled.

  “I’m on target. You set up your husband to take the fall for murder and you planned to take all his money.”

  “No—no I did not—”

  “But why, Mrs. Whitaker? Why did you do it?”

  “It’s obvious it was for the money,” Peck said and stood as if the case were resolved. “Take her out of here.” He motioned to one of the two FBI agents.

  “Not so fast,” Dane said.

  Fiona’s mouth hung open and she looked stricken. Shana noticed and turned to Dane with an eyebrow raise.

  “There’s still our last piece of the puzzle. Remember how Wally insists that he didn’t shoot Harry Small? Well it turns out he’s telling the truth.”

  “She must have shot him.” Peck started walking around the table and waving the agent over to take Fiona.

  “No, she didn’t. Stop right there. I have the ballistics report from the police department that handled the Harold Small shooting.”

  That stopped Peck short. He struggled to look calm and interested. He didn’t want to believe Dane. Dane nodded his head and smiled.

  “Whatever.” Peck grabbed Fiona’s arm. Fiona screamed.

  Shana leapt up and intervened, shoving Peck out of the way from across the table. “Leave her alone. We’re not done here. Let’s hear the evidence.” She glanced back at the window where they all knew the others were watching and Peck stopped. Dane watched perspiration drip down Peck’s left temple. His mouth was clamped in a white line and his brow was furrowed into a miniature of the Himalayas.

  “I wasn’t finished. To recap, we have Fiona keeping her newly relea
sed husband away from the house with a lie, we have her telling her Dad to set up a meeting with the governor to flush out Mr. Acerman, we have her contacting Wally the Sniper. We have an unknown third party shooting Harry the Hacker and we have an unknown third person on the Swiss bank account.

  “Plus, we have a few other unexplained odds and ends—like why can’t Sebastian access his own money and who tried to run down Shana George after she spoke with Fiona?”

  Dane let the questions hang, but Peck couldn’t stand it.

  “None of that has anything to do with this case. This case is about Wallace White taking a shot at Acerman. He’s confessed. Case over.”

  No one moved. No one was compelled by Peck’s command. Although Fiona looked visibly relieved that she wasn’t mentioned in Peck’s latest accusation. Dane half wondered when Evans was going to send someone in to put an end to all this, but he was a smart man and he knew where the threads were leading, especially if Peter dropped a few hints.

  “Here’s where you’re wrong, Peck. Two things struck me. First, you never confiscated Fiona’s phone, either during the initial embezzlement case, nor after Acerman was shot at and her husband was the acknowledged number one suspect. Then, when Ms. George tried to take a look at your phone, you were moved to violence. Finally, when we got a look at the ballistics report, which had been previously somehow wiped out—we are investigating how this happened as we speak—we found an interesting fact.”

  Peck said nothing. He stood behind Fiona, still with a hand gripping her upper arm.

  Dane waited until everyone in the room looked at him, waiting for the news.

  “The bullet that killed Harold the Hacker Small was shot from an HS Precision Series 2000 Sniper Rifle. A standard FBI-issue rifle.”

  Fiona screeched, surprising even Dane. Peck pulled her to her feet. Unlike normal procedure, she hadn’t been cuffed to the chair. No one thought of her as the violent type and she hadn’t been accused of any violent crimes.

  “No—” she sobbed.

  “Keep your mouth shut,” Peck pulled her close, but Dane heard him as he leapt over the table, knocking them over.

  Dane saw the FBI men draw their guns, immediately followed by Shana and Cap holding them back. Sebastian Whitaker and Wallace White tried to get up from their chairs, but they were handcuffed and their chairs went with them. The FBI men turned their attention to keeping these two suspects under control while Dane scrambled to his feet, shoving Fiona aside and facing Peck.

  Peck wasted no time gut punching him as he made for the door. In spite of seeing stars and feeling nauseous, barely able to breathe, Dane grabbed his collar, spun him around and aimed precisely at his previously injured nose before Peck could block him. Peck fell back against the wall and two more FBI agents crashed in through the door with their guns drawn.

  Everyone went still and silent except for Fiona sitting on the floor in the corner sobbing.

  Dane spoke. “You can arrest Peck. He conspired with Fiona Whitaker to murder Harold Small and shoot Acerman. He is the third man on the Swiss bank account and likely aided and abetted the embezzlers while on the original Whitaker case ten years ago.”

  “That’s preposterous. You’re out of your mind—I’ve been framed,” Peck shouted as blood dripped from his nose and two agents held him. They still hadn’t cuffed him.

  “I have to admit, Peck. I was stymied by your motive. I couldn’t imagine what your end game was in all this. But I finally figured it out.” Dane stared the man down and watched him tense as if for a blow.

  “It turns out Fiona Whitaker was your end game.”

  Fiona stood and screamed, “No—I was tricked by him. He wanted the money. None of it was my idea—”

  “Shut up—” Peck shouted.

  The SAC came through the door, moving fast and holding handcuffs.

  Dane stood there watching Evans cuff Peck while another agent struggled with the task of cuffing Fiona Whitaker.

  The woman pleaded and kept trying to reach out to Shana.

  “I was fooled by his plan to run away with me and all the money. I went along with the plan because I didn’t know what else to do. I didn’t know he was going to kill anyone—”

  “Shut up!” Peck yelled as they dragged him out the door.

  The interrogation room was cleared and Dane, Shana, and Cap were told they would be called back to make statements later after the internal affairs department was engaged. They were ordered not to say a word to anyone by the ASAC, Mark Richards.

  Dane, Shana and Cap left the interrogation room and walked down the hall past the the observation room as the door opened and Acer stepped through. He wore a wide grin.

  “Did you catch the last act?” Dane asked.

  “Every punch. You took a good one.”

  “That’s all you have to say? No thank you?”

  Acer laughed. “We’re dismissed to wait in the hallway near the elevators. David and Peter are being debriefed.”

  “You mean negotiating the terms of the arrests,” Dane said as they marched down the hall to the open space of the elevator lobby area.

  Dane didn’t mind waiting. He needed a chance to come down from the adrenaline high. It wasn’t the fight with Peck so much as the entire intense orchestration of the evidence. If there hadn’t been a semi-confession from Fiona witnessed by everyone, Peck might still have gotten away with it. Fiona truly had been his downfall. He looked at Shana.

  “I did not see that coming,” Shana said. She turned to Dane to see his jaw set in satisfaction as a handcuffed Special Agent Glen Peck was led from a door further down the hall beyond the elevators. She gazed past him at her big fat surprise, Fiona Whitaker, as one agent held her and another one cuffed her.

  “Gotta have a good imagination in this business, girlie.” Dane pulled her in and nuzzled her hair. She wasn’t ready for his easy affection or his fake-patronizing teasing. She pulled away from him.

  “A very perverted imagination.”

  “Always helps,” he said. His grin was shameless. He let her have her space for the moment. Then he added, “Don’t you think it’s time you changed from that ridiculous date dress?”

  “I think I’ll wear it all night.” Sometimes she was ready for his baiting and she congratulated herself for being quick this time, even under stress.

  He gave her a speculative look that turned to the invitational smile that she knew well and she turned away. No sense tempting fate. She folded her arms across her chest.

  “Is that a challenge, sweetheart? Do you want me to—”

  “No.”

  Cap and Acer rescued her from further seduction, even if it was a temporary reprieve. She’d have to reestablish the lines of demarcation between her and Dane. Soon.

  “Acer won the bet,” Cap said.

  “You bet that Fiona was having an affair with Peck?” Shana wasn’t ready to believe Acer had figured out more than she and Cap had, although she wasn’t quite sure about the guy. There was that past he shared with Dane, both in and out of the unit, to consider.

  “That? No. It was news to me.” Acer guffawed. “That was purely Dane Blaise mojo at work. I figure out the machines, he figures out the people. His job is tougher.”

  “Then what was the bet?” She looked between Cap and Acer and then squinted at Dane. He knew what the bet was about. The damn man.

  “The bet was—” Dane started.

  “It better not involve me,” Shana added. If it did, he’d better not tell her.

  “Of course not, little miss narcissist. Everything is not about you.” He paused. She rolled her eyes.

  “Then what?”

  “They had a bet about whether I would be the one to end up in the hospital this time.”

  Instant fuzziness took over her brain where all other thoughts and working analysis used to reside. “Are you okay?” She leaned closer and inspected the bruises near his eye and the long cut across his cheekbone. “Did you get a concussion? Let’s get to
the hosp—”

  “Reign it in, girlie.” He shook his head and touched her hair. “I’m fine.” His words softened, but she didn’t believe him. Didn’t believe that she hadn’t even thought about it until she was told to. She inspected everything then, touched his arm tenderly where she spotted a bruise and then remembered he’d been punched hard in the ribs more than once—the shot by Peck must have been a lucky punch. She let her fingers play down his chest to see if she could detect any swelling. He pushed her hand away.

  “You goddamn liar. You’re not okay at all.”

  “What’s the matter?” Cap looked surprised.

  “He has ribs—a problem with his ribs,” Shana told them. Her hands rose to her hips and she eyed the two men like they were sewer rats.

  “Don’t listen to her,” Dane said. His smile was more testy than convincing.

  David came out of the room where the higher-ups had been having their pow-wow and coming to their agreement about how to handle this delicate matter. He glanced once in the direction of the two arrestees. They turned back.

  Fiona shouted, “It wasn’t my fault,” one last time.

  Peck barked, “Shut the hell up you goddamn—” The agent handling him tugged him through the exit door at the end of the hall and they were swallowed up by the system as the door closed behind them. Shana shivered.

  She wasn’t at all sure that Fiona wasn’t telling the truth about that. But in the end it didn’t matter. The jury would have to decide the rest. She’d done her part. Shana looked back at Dane and wondered if he felt the same way. Probably not. He wanted justice. Period.

  “I’m glad you’re all still here,” David said. “Once again the exact people I need to speak with all in one place—”

  “Not for long,” she said. “We need to get Dane to the hospital to get his ribs checked out.”

  “I agree,” David said.

  Dane stayed silent this time, giving her a smoldering stare. It was not the stare of an injured man. She shivered. Off balance yet again.

  Acer said, “You need an ambulance?”

  “Shut up,” Dane said. Acer laughed. Cap tried not to laugh.

  David quirked a smile and looked at her. “It’s always better to be safe. Department policy. I’ll have an ambulance—”