The coach drew in closer, taking Spencer by the arm and speaking in a low voice so that the others in the gym couldn’t overhear their conversation.
“Go to the North Med facility on campus, ask for Vanessa Gibbons and tell her that Verle sent you. She’s a tech who does all the blood draws, vitals, that sort of thing. She’ll make sure that everything comes back quick and clean, then we can get the doc to sign off on your file. We’ll have you out on the field or in the water in no time,” he promised with a knowing chuckle.
“Will do sir, thank you,” Spencer shook his hand and took his leave.
“What’s your name, son?”
“Carlton. Carlton Beckett,” Spencer grinned.
“Pleasure’s mine Carl,” the coach smirked.
**
“Coach called to tell me that you’d be heading over here,” Vanessa confided as she took Spencer’s blood pressure. “His guys get the best treatment,” she grinned and looked the Marine up and down with approval.
“I’m aware. My friend, Bern Beringer, told me about how great the medical staff is here.”
“Well, isn’t that sweet? Yeah, I felt so bad for the poor guy. I hope he’s doing better with his…issue,” she whispered.
“He was rather embarrassed,” the Marine nodded, following a hunch. “Did he ever find out…where it came from?”
Vanessa leaned so close that he could smell the floral scent of her shampoo, and spoke in a low voice close to his ear.
“You didn’t hear it from me, but rumor has it that he was pretty fond of his daddy’s secretary. I guess some guys like older women,” she giggled, her breath fanning Spencer’s cheek. “What kind of women do you like, Carlton?”
“I like them all,” he flirted, swallowing the bile that rose in the back of his throat.
“Here’s a prescription for you. Don’t let Bern know that I gave it to you. Poor guy has been trying all semester,” she giggled, handing him a folded piece of paper.
“You can write prescriptions?”
“Read it later,” she winked. “I’ll get your results to the coach ASAP. You can check back with him in a few days and we’ll get things rolling. Then you can come in for regular checkups.”
“Something to look forward to,” he lied with a smile, and left as quickly as he could. When he got outside, taking a deep breath of the bracing air, he unfolded the piece of paper.
Call me. The note was short and sweet, with her phone number written in curly script at the bottom. Sticking it in his pocket, Spencer glanced at his watch and trotted over to wait outside the doors of the student library to catch a cab.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
* * *
“Her alibi is airtight,” Chas sighed after checking into the whereabouts of Barbara Beringer on the day and time of the murder. “If it looks like the scorned wife, but the scorned wife has an alibi, then there’s a good chance that it’s the mistress. It’s time to revisit the mistress.”
He drove toward the luxurious offices of Arthur Beringer again, nearly certain that Grace Masterson’s reception of him wouldn’t be quite so polite this time around.
“Hello Detective,” the receptionist greeted him upon his arrival.
“I’d like to see Ms. Masterson, please,” Chas’s expression caused the receptionist to immediately pick up the phone and turn his back, speaking in a low voice while the detective loomed over him.
The young man hung up the phone and looked at Chas with an expression of manufactured regret.
“I’m so sorry, Ms. Masterson is unable to receive you at this time. Would you care to make an appointment for next week?” he suggested.
“If she doesn’t appear in front of me in less than two minutes, I’ll be back here with a warrant and handcuffs,” was the cool reply.
“I’m sorry sir, I don’t…” the receptionist began, only to be interrupted by the door to the inner sanctum being thrown open.
“Harassment is not something I’ll tolerate, Detective,” Grace Masterson fumed, a wisp of perfect hair straying from her flawless bun.
“And obstruction of justice is not something that I’ll tolerate, Ms. Masterson. If you’d prefer that I charge you with murder, handcuff you and take you to an interrogation room for a little chat, I can certainly arrange that,” was Chas’s icy reply.
She pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes, furious.
“Follow me,” she commanded, turning on her heel and power-walking back to the executive suite. The flabbergasted receptionist was at a loss as to what to do, and after watching them disappear into the corridor, he flipped the buttons on the phone over to “Night Service,” grabbed his blazer from the back of his chair and fled the building.
“How dare you say such things?” Grace snarled after taking her seat.
Chas remained standing.
“Arthur Beringer had a sexually transmitted disease when he died, and he hadn’t had sexual relations with his wife in years prior to his death,” the detective began, not bothering to be cagey.
“She tell you that?”
“Doesn’t matter. I believe that he contracted that disease from you.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m a professional. I got to this position by being smart and working hard,” she folded her arms defiantly.
“That may very well be, but it doesn’t necessarily negate the fact that you were having an affair with your boss,” Chas persisted.
“I’m not even going to dignify that with a reply,” Grace looked away.
“Ms. Masterson, if you are accused of a capital crime, your medical records will be subpoenaed and opened for the court and all the world to see. We can go about it that way, but it might be far less embarrassing for you if you just own up to it.”
Grace Masterson, the blonde, perfectly composed ice queen, seemed to crumble before him. She dissolved into tears and dropped her face into her hands.
“Why did you kill Arthur Masterson?” Chas asked, leaning forward, his gaze piercing.
“I didn’t,” she sobbed, shaking her head and not looking at him.
“And you expect me to believe that?” he raised a skeptical brow.
“I don’t care if you believe it, it’s true. I’d never kill Arthur. He was my ticket to the big time. We were doing such great things together. The empire was growing and I was with him every step of the way. I would never have done such a thing. Being his lover turned my stomach, but being his partner made me soar.”
With mascara streaking down her cheeks, the tiny woman in the leather chair bore little resemblance to the high-powered female whom Chas had encountered last week. He didn’t pity her, she’d made choices that weren’t terribly smart, contrary to her assertions, but it somehow seemed like she just might be telling the truth about Arthur’s murder.
“Then who killed him and why?”
“You want me to do your job for you?” she spat contemptuously.
She rose from the chair and stormed over to a file cabinet in the corner. Dialing in a combination, she unlocked the drawer and pulled out a file. She tossed it on the desk so that it slid to a stop in front of the detective, and folder her arms, staring down at him.
“It’s all in the paperwork. The who. The why. You figure it out, and put the murderer behind bars. I gave this business my all, and what am I going to get? I stand to lose everything because someone couldn’t handle reality,” she shook her head, crying bitter tears.
“Don’t leave town,” the detective warned, standing and taking the file with him.
“I can’t leave town. I have a job to do,” Grace sneered, giving way to tears again.
**
The detective sat in his car, going over the file that Grace Masterson had tossed at him, when the text tone on his phone went off. He was surprised to see that the text had come from Spencer, and when he read it, he sprang into action.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
* * *
When Chas brought a warrant and the forensics team to sweep th
rough Bernard Beringer’s room, they found a cricket bat which, when sprayed with luminol, had blood stains on the blunt end of it, as well as the bag of candies which had been inside the igloo, a slip tool for breaking into cars, and a bloodstained elf costume, which had been stuffed into a wastebasket in the young man’s walk-in closet. Apparently, Arthur Beringer’s son had been so supremely confident that he’d never get caught, that he hadn’t even bothered to dispose of the evidence, other than tucking it away in his expansive bedroom suite.
Against her parent’s wishes, Destiny had returned once again to the scene of the crime, and noticed that there was a small hair salon and a dry cleaning shop across the street from the parking lot where the murder took place. The dry cleaner had a security camera that happened to cover part of the parking lot. She texted Missy, who called Chas, and footage was found of a bloody elf fleeing the scene with a bag of candy. The dumpster behind the hair salon yielded a dirty coil of wire which had a significant amount of Arthur Beringer’s DNA covering it. Bern Beringer had specifically used wire that looked like piano wire, in his quest to frame Seth Samuels for the crime. A partial fingerprint lifted from a cabinet door in the Crandall’s RV implicated Bern in the ransacking of their vehicle, adding to the list of charges piling up against the honor student and varsity cricket player.
As to the reasons why someone who seemed to have such a bright future ahead would do such a heinous thing as murder the father who’d given him everything…Chas had discovered that answers in the paperwork that Grace Masterson had thrown at him in Arthur’s office. If and when Seth Samuels lost his house, Arthur had drawn up a bid for development in his son’s name. All profits to be gained from the property would be Bernard’s. Arthur Beringer had also recently made changes to his will which split ownership of his company between his son and Grace Masterson, who had been his mistress for years. Bern had then seduced Grace, believing that if he wooed her, he’d have access to the entirety of his father’s empire. Unfortunately, he couldn’t have known that Grace had also been keeping time with his father’s clients, and had, as a result, transmitted the same disease to both father and son.
Barbara Beringer had suspected Arthur’s affair for years, but had taken solace in social activities and charitable work, not concerning herself with his lack of affection. He was pleasant to her, paid all of the bills and demanded nothing more of her than to be on his arm when public appearances demanded it. She knew nothing of her son’s evil plan, and was devastated when he confessed to the crime. The grieving wife and mother hired attorneys immediately to examine her husband’s will, claiming that he’d been unduly influenced by his scheming secretary. Arthur Beringer had been no fool, however, there was a clause in the will which provided that, should he die under mysterious or nefarious circumstances, his loyal wife Barbara would be the sole recipient of all of his holdings, including the house, cars and other property that he’d purchased for his mistress.
Bernard Beringer had been quiet and compliant when Chas had locked the cuffs around his wrists, and had been taken to jail without incident, confessing to the crime in hopes of receiving a reduced sentence. With the amount of evidence that had been found against him, it was the only reasonable thing to do. Despite her horror over what her son had done, Barbara Beringer provided him with the best legal counsel in the state. She sold off the business after firing Grace Masterson and suing her for dissipation of marital assets, then the wealthy widow retired to an undisclosed location in the Caribbean.
**
“Spence, you knew that I never suspected you, right?” Chas asked, taking a slug of beer from the ice-cold bottle that the Marine had handed him.
Spencer’s eyes were closed behind his sun glasses, and he was sprawled on a lounger next to the pool.
“Yeah, but it was a matter of honor, you know? My reputation and trustworthiness means the world to me, and to be living under the shadow of doubt was not something I could just sit down and take.”
“I hear you,” the detective nodded. “I feel the same way myself. That was a pretty fine piece of detective work that you did. Dare I ask how you got your information?”
“Nah. I could tell you, but I’d have to kill you,” the Marine sat up and plucked a bottle of beer out of the ice bucket.
“Too late, I returned the reindeer costume,” Chas chuckled. “We good?” he asked, sobering.
“Yeah, we’re good,” the young man replied, downing several gulps of his brew.
“You good?” the detective glanced over at Spencer.
“I will be,” was the cryptic, but optimistic reply.
“The conservative haircut and no facial hair totally destroys your tough guy persona,” Chas teased, injecting some much-needed comic relief.
“Guess I’ll just have to be the nice guy now.”
“It’s a tough job, but somebody’s gotta do it. Better you than me.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
* * *
Missy was radiant as she slipped into the pewter velvet sheath which brought out her kitten-grey eyes. She was fastening pearl drop earrings when Chas came into the dressing room and kissed the delicate nape of her neck, which had been exposed by a lovely up-do.
“Merry Christmas to me,” he growled playfully against her soft skin.
“Stop it, that tickles,” she giggled, swatting at him playfully.
“Everything is all set up in the ballroom. Spence and Maggie are overseeing the caterers, and the guests should be arriving any minute now,” he informed her. “Are you ready for me to escort you to the party, my lovely wife?”
“I can’t wait,” she stood, her face aglow with excitement.
“You’re beautiful,” her husband murmured, brushing her cheek with a kiss.
“Why, thank you, kind sir,” Missy actually blushed. “Shall we?”
“Yes, we shall,” the tuxedoed detective offered his arm.
**
Destiny’s mouth fell open when the French doors to the ballroom opened. Missy, Echo, Izzy and Carla had outdone themselves with the decorating, and the entire room sparkled warmly, lit by thousands of tiny lights and the glow of candles. In keeping with the blue and silver theme of the parade float, which had eventually been declared the Grand Prize winner, the Ballroom had been turned into a winter wonderland. The dance floor had been transformed into an “ice skating rink,” with fluffy white “snowbanks” surrounding it. There would be orchestral music during dinner, and a dance party afterward. Though the guest list had been kept small, there were good times to be had by all, including a gift exchange and naughty Santa swap.
“Wow,” the teenager exclaimed, breathless at the beauty before her.
“Pretty awesome, huh?” a young male voice came from behind her.
She whirled around to see a handsome young man, who looked an awful lot like Kel, joining her in admiring the ballroom.
“You must be Destiny,” he smiled and held out his hand to shake. “I’m Scott.”
Realizing that she was standing with her mouth hanging open, she quickly recovered and shook his hand.
“Hi, nice to meet you. This is amazing,” she commented.
Scott chuckled. “Yeah, my stepmom and Miss Missy never do things halfway. I looked at the seating cards, and we’re going to be sitting together at dinner.”
“Oh good, so I won’t be lost in a sea of grown-ups,” Destiny giggled. “Oh, that sounds bad. I mean, I like grown-ups, don’t get me wrong, but I just…” she began to explain, but stopped when Scott laughed aloud.
“Don’t worry, I totally get it. It’ll be nice to talk to someone our own age.”
“Exactly,” she breathed a sigh of relief. “I should’ve known with Miss Echo as a stepmom, you’d be really nice,” she blushed.
“Thanks,” Scott took it in stride. “Wanna go check out the food tables?”
Destiny glanced over to where her parents were having an animated conversation with Izzy and Missy, and nodded.
“Yes, I’m
starving.”
**
“Look up,” Izzy smiled tenderly at Spencer as he gazed out over the dance floor with a slight smile.
The Marine glanced up at where she was pointed, and saw that he was standing directly under the mistletoe. Izzy crooked her finger, and when he bent down, he caught the scent of her sweet perfume as she kissed him lightly on the cheek.
“I had no idea that I was standing under the mistletoe,” he grinned. “Let’s move to a safer location.”
He took her by the hand and led her to where the fireplace crackled merrily.
“Look, Izzy, I wanted to apologize for my behavior lately. I know that this hasn’t been easy for you, and I…” he began, not seeing that Joyce, decked out in a red, cocktail length, sequined gown, was approaching from behind.
“Hey, you two!” she greeted them, not seeing Izzy’s expression of dismay. “I don’t know about you, but I’m thinking that some brave soul needs to get out there on the dance floor and get this party started, so how about it?”
“Oh…uh, no I don’t dance,” Izzy demurred quickly, her emotions causing her stomach to churn uncomfortably.
“What about you, big guy?” Joyce turned to Spencer. “Come on, it’s a responsibility,” she cajoled. “We can get our groove on and inspire everyone else,” she nudged him.
“Go ahead,” Izzy said softly. “I’m going to go get some punch.”
She gazed at Spencer, her heart in her eyes, then turned away and headed for the punchbowl.
“Let’s do this,” Joyce tucked her hand into the crook of Spencer’s arm and led him away to the dance floor.
He glanced back over his shoulder, but didn’t see Izzy anywhere. Joyce was a spirited and talented dancer, and as she and Spencer moved about the floor, others, including Destiny and Scott joined in the fun. In a break between songs, everyone was startled by a loud gasp and turned to see Echo clutching her abdomen.
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