Digging Up Death (A Mari Duggins Mystery)
Page 27
My entire body ached. “Last I checked there was more than one television in this house.”
“But, mom—”
“No buts. Go eat your breakfast before it gets cold. I made egg in the nest, your favorite.”
Jack’s favorite.
Ben schlepped to the table and plopped down in his chair. “I wish dad were here.”
I bit my lip. The kids had no idea he was in the States, in jail. “He’d be here if he could.”
I served Ben his breakfast. He devoured it, pleading for seconds. Despite everything, I was happy to be back with my family. Safe and whole. Last night had been a nightmare with a storybook ending.
By the time Detective Lopez drove me home from the hospital it was past 1:00 in the morning. Everyone slept, nestled in their beds. Instead of waking them and holding them until morning like I wanted to, I tiptoed from room to room and stood over each of them, marveling at the gifts they were to me. My family, my dream. I was just too busy to realize it. How would I break the news about their father? I wouldn’t until after Christmas.
Bypassing the preprogrammed, half-full coffee carafe, I reached for my cup of tea and tightened the belt on my satin robe. I was swearing off coffee for a long, long time.
Padding past the living room to where Matt sat watching Sponge Bob reruns, I smiled. At sixteen, he was clinging to his childhood, while trying to forge his way in the adult world. Was it too late for me and my son? I hoped not.
I just had to figure out the perfect moment to tell him the truth. That his grandfather, the man he had thought was his dad, concocted the plan to pass him off as his son to save face because his wayward daughter had the nerve to get pregnant out of wedlock. Being the good Christian man he was, he couldn’t risk anyone finding out. So we kept it hidden. And I went along with it. I didn’t want to, but I had no choice. Leaving Matt in the care of my parents was the biggest regret of my life, but fate had returned him to me when he was six. Maybe God could bring his heart home for good.
My phone equipped with a new battery rang, and I slipped into Jack’s office to answer it. I hadn’t been in there since Ms. Bomani confiscated his computer. I pushed my bed hair behind my ears. She said she’d be by today, but I didn’t have the energy or desire to dress for the occasion.
“Hello, this is Mari.”
“It’s Jan Carson at KTXL. I’m calling to let you know you’re one of two still being considered for the morning show opposite John Lewis. We really liked the chemistry between you two and want to schedule a second interview.”
I should’ve been elated, but instead I felt nothing. Isn’t this what I had dreamed about, hoped for, worked so hard to achieve? Something inside me must have shifted. I couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment I ceased to care about my career, but inside me the fire no longer burned. Was this what contentment felt like?
“I need to be honest and let you know that Mr. Lewis and I may have some personal issues to deal with. I’m not sure he’ll be willing to work with me when he learns my son is the boy who assaulted his son.”
Silence. “That might present a problem. He will be making the final decision. Still, he’s a fair man and won’t sacrifice the show for personal problems. Can you be here at 2:00?”
“Today?”
“Yes, we’re trying to get the interviews completed before the holidays so we can start the new year with the new team.”
“I’m sorry I can’t make it.” I planned to spend the entire day in my pajamas, playing board games and reconnecting with my children.
“Oh, I see.” She paused. “You are aware without this follow-up interview your chances for the position drop dramatically.”
“I understand. But I won’t be able to come to the studio until after Christmas.”
Her silence spoke volumes. “Thank you for your time, Mrs. Duggins. We’ll be in touch.”
After ending the call, I slipped into Jack’s chair. There were so many things I needed to think about. Downsizing from our big home, and checking into public schools. I had just sabotaged my chance at my dream job and turned down a hefty salary, but I still needed to keep this family fed and clothed, especially with Jack going to jail. I sighed, more relaxed than I had felt in years.
I thought about Elizabeth and Fletcher and how I finally believed all things would work together for good. Several minutes later, I walked into the living room overcome with the urge to connect with Matt as his real mom. I waited for a commercial break. No, I didn’t regret sacrificing my career for my family.
“Matt, there’s waffles and bacon when you’re ready.”
He jumped up. “Homemade?”
“Yep.”
“Awesome.” He hesitated, then embraced me with strong arms, hunching over me. When had he grown so tall? There was so much I didn’t understand about my adolescent son, but I was determined to find out. He pulled away and looked at me. For a moment I caught a glimpse of the little boy who brought me wildflowers and put “chocolate” mud balls in an empty Valentine’s candy heart. “Mar … Mom, I’m sorry.” Tears crowded his steel blue eyes.
It warmed my heart to hear him call me Mom again, though he didn’t realize how true the title really was.
“If anything had happened to you, and I didn’t get to say I was sorry—” His words caught in his throat. “I’ve been a real jerk lately.”
“I’m so sorry about everything. I haven’t been around much for you lately. I want you to know I’m going to do better.”
“So will I, but sometimes I don’t know what’s wrong with me. My head says one thing, and my gut says another. It’s just too hard to know what to do.”
“I’m here to help you figure it all out.”
“I wish Dad were here.”
“So do I.”
The doorbell rang and my son tore off to answer it. “Detective Lopez is here.”
“Come on in, Detective.” I called from the living room, debating if I should get dressed or at least throw on some under-eye concealer. My black circles made me look like the living dead. But I had nothing to hide from Lopez anymore. He already saw right through me. “Would you like some coffee?”
Detective Lopez stepped into the room wearing the same suit as last night. From the look of his under-eye bags, he was the one that needed the cover-up. “Sure, I take it black. But first there’s someone who’s been waiting all night to see you.”
Fletcher? My heart skidded like a lovesick teen at the thought of seeing him as I relived last night’s kiss before we left him in the hospital for overnight observation. I smoothed my hair and ran my fingers under my eyes, hoping to catch some smeared mascara, then caught myself primping. What was I doing? I didn’t need to impress him. He’d already seen me at my worst and loved me anyway.
CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT
10:23 a.m.
WHEN JACK ROUNDED THE corner after Detective Lopez, my breath caught. Conflicting emotions jockeyed for position in my heart.
“Do I smell bacon? And eggs?” My ex-husband eyed me.
“In the nest.” I barely squeaked out.
“My favorite.”
“What are you doing here?” Is this God’s idea of working all things out for good? “I thought you were in jail?”
Jack inched closer, searching my eyes for an invitation.
“We have no reason to hold him. Jack is absolved of all crimes,” Detective Lopez explained.
“What?”
“I’ll explain when I get back. I’m starved.” Jack disappeared into the kitchen where the children hollered like they were at the Dallas Cowboys Super Bowl.
“I don’t understand. What’s going on?” I sat on the couch.
“Let’s wait for Jack. He’ll explain everything.” Detective Lopez sat in the recliner opposite the couch.
It seemed like a lifetime passed before Jack returned with two coffees. He handed Detective Lopez one. “Thank you.” Detective Lopez took a sip. “Mari, I’m sure you’re wanting an explanation.”
Detective Lopez set his coffee on the end table and leaned forward. “Susan confessed this morning to conspiring with Henderson and framing Peter.”
I glared at Jack. “What?”
“Why do you seem surprised?” Jack sipped his coffee.
“I’m not. I mean, I am. I thought you were innocent, but after last night …”
“Can’t we tell her?”
Detective Lopez cleared his throat. “Why don’t we wait until Ms. Bomani gets here?”
“She was never good at waiting.” Jack glanced at the Christmas tree. “I’m surprised she hasn’t opened any presents yet.”
Detective Lopez nodded. “I think she deserves the truth. Why don’t you explain?”
I adjusted myself on the couch. This was going to be good.
“About two years ago I intercepted an email meant for Henderson. It must’ve been rerouted to my inbox at the university when I subbed for him when he went in for heart surgery. The email was coded, but I was able to break it.”
I raised my eyebrows. “I didn’t know you could do that.”
“There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”
“Obviously.” I folded my arms.
He frowned. “After I read the emails detailing Henderson’s involvement in authenticating forged artifacts as real antiquities, I knew I was on to something big and made a call to Egypt. I explained the urgency to Dr. Rhashidi’s secretary, but three months later I was still jumping through hoops. I got frustrated and contacted INTERPOL.”
“Aren’t they the guys who threaten to throw you in jail for video and DVD piracy?”
Detective Lopez chuckled, almost spewing his coffee. “That’s not all they do. They’re the world’s largest international police organization. They assist police cooperation across borders, and support others whose mission is to fight international crime.”
Jack slurped his coffee. “INTERPOL facilitates international police cooperation even where diplomatic relations break down between countries or don’t exist. I figured they might be able to help. And before I knew it, I’m undercover infiltrating the smuggling ring’s operation collecting evidence to bring them down.”
All the pieces of the puzzle connected into one clear picture. “I knew you weren’t an antiquities thief. I never understood why you left, but now it makes perfect sense. You wanted to keep us safe.” Confusion battled within, different emotions grasping for a foothold. If Jack wanted back in my life, where did that leave Fletcher?
“I wish that were the case.” Jack stared into his coffee. “But I left before they asked me to go undercover. I was planning on leaving for a while. Hated myself for being so selfish, for wanting to run away and pursue my own dreams, but I knew if I stayed I’d make everyone’s life miserable. Can you ever forgive me?”
I sat in silence, mulling over his words, not sure if I could erase the hurt he heaped on this family, but knowing I was just as guilty of being selfish with my career. I needed to forgive him.
“So they needed a field archaeologist on the inside to take over Henderson’s job and you were the man?” Detective Lopez offered, trying to redirect the conversation.
“Yeah, Henderson wasn’t thrilled about bringing me into the deal,” Jack continued, “probably because it would cut into his profit, but INTERPOL forged some papers and made it look like I had a history with their inside guy, and that we reconnected on the last dig in Egypt.”
“Why didn’t they just arrest Henderson?” I asked, my emotions ebbing.
“If they did, it would’ve tipped off the smuggling operation, risking the disappearance of hundreds of antiquities. INTERPOL’s man was never able to find the lab until I came on board.”
Jack had been involved in the smuggling ring, just not the way I had imagined. The doorbell rang.
“Let me get that.” Detective Lopez stood. “It’s probably Ms. Bomani.”
Jack gazed at me. Eyes full of regret. “I don’t blame you for thinking I was forging and smuggling artifacts.”
I knew he wanted—needed to hear that I forgave him. But I wasn’t ready.
Fletcher walked into the room. His eyes fell on me, then Jack. “What’s he doing here?” He pulled me from the couch, his arm around my shoulder.
Jack stood, an expression of shock flashed across his face, then faded. “I was just explaining everything to Mari.” He held out his hand. Fletcher refused to shake it. I didn’t blame him.
When Detective Lopez and I left Fletcher in the hospital last night, we were positive of Jack’s guilt. I turned to Fletcher. “Jack’s innocent. He had nothing to do with the forgery. He was actually investigating the smuggling ring.”
“What? I was there the whole time and you never told me. I thought we were friends.”
“We still are.” Jack looked from Fletcher to me, and back again. He extended his hand. Fletcher shook it. I let out a sigh as a silent understanding passed between them. The doorbell rang again.
“I’ll get it this time.” Jack hurried into the hall.
Ms. Bomani walked in wearing a maroon Egyptian Bedouin dress embroidered with green and gold accents. “Looks like I am late for the party.”
“No, you’re just in time. Please have a seat.” I motioned to the empty recliner.
She sat. Detective Lopez hovered nearby.
I considered my former enemy turned ally. “I’m sorry for interfering in the investigation and all the trouble I caused you. Whatever the consequences are, I’m willing to face them.”
Fletcher rubbed my hands. “We’ll face them.”
“Egyptian law gives clemency for anyone sharing information that leads to an arrest in the theft of antiquities or smuggling.” Ms. Bomani’s genuine smile told me everything would be all right. “Seems like you are ‘off the hook’ as you say here in America. But next time, do not be afraid to tell the truth.”
“I think I’ve learned my lesson. There won’t be a next time.”
“Can I get you something, Ms. Bomani?” Jack offered like it was still his home. “Coffee? Juice? It’s freshly squeezed, so I’ve been told.”
“No, thank you, I am fine. I wanted to stop by and review a few things from yesterday.”
Fletcher ushered me to the couch and eased next to me, his hand still in mine.
Jack sat on the arm of the sofa. “Sure, I’ve got nothing more to hide.” His gaze fell on me for a moment. “Anymore.”
Ms. Bomani retrieved a small recorder from her purse. “One thing does not make sense. I know you explained why you became involved with INTERPOL instead of contacting the Department of Retrieving Stolen Artifacts, but is there anything else you can remember about those months? Any reasons why your call was overlooked?”
Jack cocked his head to the left and contemplated. “Nope, I guess they thought my allegations held no merit. Maybe because of Henderson’s track record and the university’s impeccable relationship with Egypt.”
She shook her head. “I would have pursued such a claim if I had known about it. At least investigated the antiquities from the sites he excavated over the years.”
“I don’t know who dropped the ball.” Jack glanced at me and Fletcher with approval. “But everything worked out.”
For good. I leaned into Fletcher and returned his smile.
Ms. Bomani turned to Detective Lopez. “Did you get a confession from Susan?”
“Yes, this morning.” Detective Lopez spoke directly to Ms. Bomani. “She said she used a beta blocker to slow Henderson’s heart rate to the point of being undetectable to the eye and sabotaged the equipment so the other EMT wouldn’t notice the slight heart rate. Since she was the lead paramedic and Henderson had on a DNR identity bracelet, no one questioned her when she carted Henderson straight to the morgue where Brian Farlow, the AME, pronounced Henderson dead, signed the death certificate, and claimed to
do an autopsy.”
“Why would the AME risk his career and life for such a risky scheme?” Fletcher asked.
“He was a drug addict,” I offered, leaving out the details of how I found him. “Susan supplied him with money and drugs. Then paid her cousin to say he cremated the body, right?”
“You sure you don’t want to switch careers?” Detective Lopez retrieved his coffee on the end table next to Ms. Bomani’s recliner.
“No, thanks, I think my dance card is full.”
Fletcher squeezed my hand.
“I can’t believe Henderson had everyone fooled,” Jack said.
I contemplated the extent of the charade. “He must’ve been really desperate to take the risk. What if he had died?”
Detective Lopez sipped his coffee. “Susan confessed to stealing epinephrine and atropine in case she needed to jump start his heart. She was highly skilled in Advanced Cardiac Life Support and seemed to have things prepared in case Henderson went into cardiac arrest. She said the blackmailer was whittling away at Henderson’s fortune and when Kipling threatened his tenure at the university, he concocted the idea of faking his death. If he could disappear and become someone else he could continue his smuggling scheme at a different university, probably foreign, without any detection until he was ready to retire.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised if Henderson was using Susan all along.” I snuggled closer to Fletcher. “Did you ever find the blackmailer?”
“Nope, it’s still an open case and not quite top priority,” Detective Lopez said.
“Do you think you’ll be able to track down the real Hatshepsut heart scarab?” Jack leaned in to the conversation.
“Henderson is not cooperating, but we are confident we will find evidence to help us determine the location of the scarab and many other antiquities soon.” Ms. Bomani stood and extended her hand to Jack, then to me. “Thank you for your time this morning. I will be in touch.”
“Let me follow you out.” Detective Lopez set down his mug. “You folks take it easy this morning. I’ll have a patrol car keep the reporters away. Right now, Natasha’s busy playing the media, but it shouldn’t be long before they come banging on your door.”