by Rita Herron
Or maybe she had on those sexy see through thongs…
The drunk across the way practically poked his head through the bars straining to get a better look himself. Sometime between the discussion about tips versus gel nails and root jobs, the sumo wrestler had emerged from his coma to admire the latest addition to their cozy little cellblock.
Marci hitched up her hip. “See, how detailed the lily is,” Marci said proudly. “Now, the guy I use, Spike, he’s such a doll baby and so professional. He can clean up your butterfly and fill it in to make it look really pretty.”
Cade found himself squinting as Layla, the redheaded hooker, examined the tattoo on her upper arm. It looked more like a snake than a butterfly.
“You sure he won’t charge me too much?” Layla asked.
Marci shook her head. “Just tell him I sent you and he’ll cut you a deal. We go back.”
Cade just bet they did.
“She’s a wealth of information,” Georgia said dryly. “Maybe she could start her own version of Cosmo in jail.”
The captain laughed, but Cade felt his blood boil. Marci Turner was making a sham out of jail. For God’s sakes, she was practically soliciting clients as if she was opening her own spa. “Okay, where are we on the case? Did the officers find out anything from the guests? Anyone see anything?”
“Nothing concrete.” The captain consulted his notes. “Three women said they thought the shooter was a white male about seventy. Of course, they were all blind as bats and had mimosas for breakfast.” He paused to check on Marci in case she offered more of her body parts for the viewing, but thankfully she’d pulled that tattered wedding gown back down and was busy showing the other girls the artwork her nail tech had done on her toes.
“I messed that one up when that hateful detective shoved me in the police car,” Marci said.
Sympathetic moans rumbled from the other women and Dot tssked. “Some of those cops are real pigs. They like to show off their power.”
Dammit, he was not like that. And he had not shoved her.
“I know. Just look at this.” Marci twisted her arm sideways, and his gut clenched. Good God. She did have a bruise on her arm.
One that had his finger indentations all over it.
“One geezer said he thought the shooter was a female wearing man’s clothing,” the captain continued, oblivious to Cade’s tumultuous thoughts. “Another woman said he looked like her dead uncle Bob.”
“Good grief,” Georgia muttered. “What a cluster.”
The captain rubbed his balding head. “Yeah, we’ve got seventy-five guests, half of whom probably had motive to shoot the man and his bride.”
“We’ll question them all again,” Georgia said. “Find out if any of them knew what Pendergrass had pulled.”
“Then there are the ones who weren’t invited to the wedding,” the captain muttered.
Cade flexed his hands, guilt gnawing at him. He hadn’t meant to hurt the woman…
“Muller?” Captain Rayner barked. “Are you even listening?”
Cade knotted his hands into fists and vowed to be more careful when handling female suspects. “I heard. But the list is even longer. We have to consider the victims he conned while using his other aliases.”
“You’re right,” Rayner said. “I’ll start working on that list.”
“And I’ll start with the wedding guests,” Georgia said.
Cade frowned. They had a virtual cesspool of suspects.
He grabbed the file of evidence he needed to show Marci. “I guess that leaves me with the bride.”
“Her sister stormed in wanting to post bail and get her out,” Rayner said.
“We have twenty-four hours before we have to release her,” Cade said. “I’m going to use every one of them.”
Determination renewed, he strode from the room. For all he knew, Marci knew exactly where Pendergrass was headed. She might even know who’d been shooting at him. If someone had discovered their con game, Pendergrass could have known his time was limited. Maybe that was why he’d planned this impromptu wedding. After all, he and Marci had only dated six weeks.
Pendergrass probably intended to use his honeymoon as a cover to flee the country.
He would do his job and unearth the truth from her.
Maybe she was ready to talk.
And if not, tonight he’d let her sleep in that cell and think about it. One night on that cot, and she’d probably spill her guts all over the place.
Then he could track down Pendergrass and lock his ass up. And if Marci was guilty, she’d go to jail, too, and he’d be done with both of them.
*~*~*~*
“Stay strong!” Dottie yelled as the officer opened the cell and gestured for Marci to follow him.
She gave Dottie a big hug. “Hang in there. If I’m not back in a little bit, I’ll come back and check on you tomorrow.”
Dottie sniffled and wiped at her eyes.
“Don’t tell them anything,” Layla warned her in a low voice.
“You’ve got rights, sister,” the other hooker shouted.
Marci hiked her wedding gown to her knees to keep from tripping over it, and held her head up as she left the cell.
Really, everything was going to be all right.
All she had to do was tell the truth and she’d be out of here in no time.
At least she’d made some friends while she was here. That was even better. They might not be society girls, but they were real and caring, and a girl like her needed all the friends she could get.
Especially since she was pretty sure she would be ostracized from the country club. She might even lose her waitressing job which she was going to need to pay a lawyer if she didn’t convince this detective she was innocent.
Thank heavens Paul had already paid off her tuition for cosmetology school so at least she didn’t have to worry about that.
The sumo guy banged on the bars. “Don’t forget to ask for your phone call, Marci.”
“Yeah, sugar,” the drunk said in a slurred voice. “Call my boy. He’s a lawyer.”
She made a mental note to come back and check on each one of them when she was released. Just because they were in trouble didn’t mean she’d turn her back on them.
After all, once she received her license to do hair, she’d need customers. And those little women from the club she’d expected to line up at the door for her services might decide to take their business to a stylist without a rap sheet.
*~*~*~*
Cade steeled himself as the guard escorted Marci into the interrogation room. She offered him a saccharine sweet smile, her breasts rising as she inhaled a deep breath.
His cool look shouted a warning. Your flirting won’t work on me, sweetheart.
She must have read his mind because her eyes flickered with concern for a moment, then she settled into the hard folding chair at the table, that damn dress crinkling around her as she spread out the yards of lace and crinoline.
He gave her time to adjust, gritting his teeth at the sight of those bare red toes. They should have forced her to change into an orange jumpsuit when she’d come in.
She looked ridiculous in that gown with her tear-stained eyes and tattered veil. Like a helpless innocent woman who’d been jilted at the altar.
Well, technically she had been jilted at the altar.
But helpless and innocent? He didn’t think so.
“Detective, can we please get this over with so I can go home and change.”
She scratched at the telltale signs of a rash on her neck.
So she hadn’t been lying about that.
“Certainly,” Cade said, adopting his professional demeanor. He mentally contemplated the best way to handle her. Good cop or bad cop?
He propped his butt against the table. “In fact, why don’t you start by telling us where your fiancé is?”
Marci winced, then picked at a thread that had come loose on her veil. “I don’t know. Probably on his way
to Tahiti.”
Cade arched a brow. “Is that where you planned your get away?”
Marci lifted her chin in defiance. “That’s where we planned our honeymoon.”
He knew Georgia was watching through the two-way mirror and that she was rushing to check it out.
“Do you have a house there or is that just a stopover?”
Marci continued to pick at the loose thread, the veil unraveling in her hands. “It was an all inclusive seven day package.” Her voice cracked slightly. “Then we were moving into the house in Buckhead.”
“Ahh, the mansion.”
She nodded, a tiny smile lighting her eyes. “Frankly I thought it was a little big. I mean I’ve never lived in anything but a one-bedroom and I don’t need showy things. But Paul said it was perfect for us, that he wanted me to have a nice big place to entertain all our friends.”
“All those people you stole from?”
“We didn’t steal anything,” Marci cried.
Cade crossed his arms and gave her a challenging look. “You most certainly did, Miss Turner. And the sooner you admit the details and tell us what account Pendergrass hid the money in, we can talk about a deal for you.”
“A deal?” Marci stood, banging the table. “I’m not making a deal because I didn’t do anything wrong.”
“You may rethink that when you see the evidence we have against you and Pendergrass, Miss Turner.”
“Please call me Marci.”
Another attempt to get personal with him?
Cade pulled out the chair across from Marci and sank into it. Methodically he opened a folder and removed a list of all the people Pendergrass had cheated in the two states prior to the Georgia scam.
“Do you know a man named Sebastian Zuckerman?” Cade asked.
Marci shook her head. “No, why should I?”
“We think he’s partners with Pendergrass.”
Marci gulped. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
He tapped the list of names, then flipped two more pages. “Look at this.”
Marci leaned forward and eyed it, her forehead wrinkling. “What is it?”
“Before your fiancé came to Atlanta, he pulled schemes in Texas and Florida.”
“What?”
“These are all people who lost money to him and his famous Desert Sand Resort.” For the first time she’d entered, panic flickered in Marci’s eyes.
“What are you talking about?” Marci yanked her dress up where it was slipping down.
Cade averted his eyes. The cleavage show wasn’t going to work on him.
He removed photographs of the resort land the couple had supposedly been selling. “This is the Desert Sand Resort package Paul Pendergrass sold?”
Marci nodded, then pointed to various pictures as she spoke. “That’s the pool and spa area,” she said with a twinkle in her eyes. “And those are the beach cottages. This section over here is for people who need assisted living facilities. The staff treats them like guests, not patients.” Her voice gained momentum. “And look how close it is to the beach and the intracoastal waterway. Some of the units have magnificent views of the sunset. You can sit on your balcony or porch with wine or coffee and watch the boats go by at night.”
Cade studied her mannerisms and the sparkle in her eyes. Her enthusiasm was convincing. He almost believed that she believed the place was real.
“So you’ve visited the resort and seen all the amenities?”
Marci chewed her bottom lip. “No, but Paul has. And he had an entire slide show that he presented to all the clients.”
“Right.” Cade angled the laptop on the table toward her. “These are some of the photos?”
Marci narrowed her eyes. “Yes, see how beautiful it is there.” She crunched the veil in her hands. “I don’t know why you keep insisting he cheated people. They got a great deal.”
Cade clicked a button. “This is what they got, Miss Turner.” Photos of the real Desert Sand property spieled onto the screen.
“I told you to call me Marci.” Her eyes widened in confusion as she watched the photo display. “This is not Desert Sand,” she said emphatically. “This place is…not even a resort.”
“No,” Cade said. “This is desert land. Deserted, flat, dry, hot, unbuildable.”
Marci shook her head in denial, her hair brushing her bare shoulders with the movement and momentarily distracting him.
Jesus.
Heaving a frustrated sigh, she snatched the pictures on the table. “This is the resort. It’s gorgeous and sunny and everyone’s dream place to retire.”
“It is just that,” Cade said, disturbed now. He had the sinking feeling that Marci had been duped herself. “A dream because it’s not real. Pendergrass used a little trick called Photoshop and turned this dried up inhabitable land into the resort you see on the screen.”
Marci gasped, twisting the veil again, this time so hard she ripped it in two.
A knock sounded on the door and Georgia slipped in, her dark brows pinched in concern. She motioned for him to step outside for a second, and he left Marci fidgeting in the seat.
“I pulled some background info on Marci Turner and her financials. Thought you might need them.”
He took the file from her. Probably more info to hang her with. “Thanks.”
He opened the file and studied it, anger knotting his belly as he stepped back inside the room. Georgia followed him inside and leaned on the table across from Marci.
He took the chair again, studying Marci while Georgia played bad cop. “Come on, Miss Turner, we’ll go easier on you if you cooperate.”
One look at Georgia, and Marci Turner paled. “I think I should make my phone call,” Marci whispered.
Cade simply stared at her, determined to stay unaffected. She still might have information that he needed. And he’d use her if necessary to catch the bastard who’d cheated his nana and hundreds of other people.
“We’re not done yet, Miss Turner.” Georgia pointed to the folder. “I’ve been trying to figure out why you’d help Pendergrass,” Georgia said. “So I took a look at your past. Your father abandoned you and your sister when you were little.”
Pain flickered in Marci’s eyes. “So?”
“And your mother has been married at least three times.”
Marci picked at the hem of her dress. “I don’t see what this has to do with me being here.”
“All through school you trailed your sister in everything,” Georgia continued. “Her grades were always better. She made president of the class. You failed class after class and were always in trouble.”
Cade’s stomach knotted as Marci twisted in her seat.
“She went to college while you worked at a bar waitressing.”
“That was my choice,” Marci said with a defiant tilt to her chin.
“Or maybe you did it because you couldn’t keep up with your twin. Then a few months ago, she marries this handsome architect and once again, she shows you up.”
“If you’re implying that I’m jealous of my sister, you’re wrong,” Marci said evenly.
“Maybe not jealous, but you feel like a failure next to her. She graduated with honors, won the good man, has financial stability.” Georgia’s voice rose, a brittle edge to it.
This time Cade shifted. Good god, she could be describing his relationship with his brother.
“Then you met Paul Pendergrass and decided he was your ticket to success.” Georgia leaned closer. “Maybe you thought you could finally show up your sister.”
Marci crossed her arms and looked away as if Georgia had hit the nail on the head.
Georgia slapped the table. “You were so desperate to have the things your sister did that you didn’t care if you had to cheat people to do it.”
Marci’s eyes blazed a vehement trail toward Georgia. “That’s not true.”
“Isn’t it?”
“No,” Marci said. “I would never cheat those people at the clu
b. They were my friends.”
A tense second passed, then Georgia’s phone buzzed and she gestured that she should take it.
Cade cleared his throat as she left the room, and indicated the file again. Marci looked so pitiful that he almost wanted to let her off the hook.
Do your job, dammit. “I see you have a prior criminal record,” he said calmly.
Marci’s eyed widened. “What?”
He removed a copy of the document. “You were arrested for shoplifting when you were fifteen.”
Marci chewed on her fingernail for a minute. “Those records were supposed to be sealed.”
“I’m a detective, I can unseal them.”
“But that’s not fair,” Marci stammered. “I was just a messed up kid when that happened.”
“Some people are tried as adults at fifteen.”
Marci threw her hands up in frustration. “I took a pair of lace panties because all the other girls in gym made fun of my old lady ones. It’s not like I hurt anybody.”
He couldn’t imagine Marci ever wearing old lady panties. “But it proves that if you want something you take it.” He laid a photo of the house Pendergrass had supposedly bought for them on the table in front of her. “Is this Buckhead mansion you told me you and Pendergrass were moving into?”
A heartbeat passed. The chair rattled. “Yes.”
“It was a lie, too, Marci.”
She lifted those beguiling eyes toward him, tears suddenly filling them. “You’re lying. That house is ours. We were moving in there next week when we returned from our honeymoon.”
“No, you weren’t, Marci. Pendergrass never bought this place. My guess is he took the money he told you he used to pay for it and put it in his pocket.”
“Paul wouldn’t do that,” Marci said in a raw whisper. “He loved me. He wanted me to have that house. He paid for my school tuition, too, so I wouldn’t have to worry about it anymore.”
Cade grimaced, then laid another printout on the table. “I hate to break this to you, but your fiancé didn’t pay your tuition.”
Marci gasped. “No…that can’t be true.”
He hated to dig the knife in deeper but she had to face reality. “It’s true, Marci. He also emptied out your bank account.”