Crimes Past

by Lauren Carr

  “And the second witness? Lynda the Sous Chef?” Mac asked.

  “That was Derringer, too,” Underwood said. “The informant told Sanchez and me about Lynda after she had already called the police station. I did some nosing around with folks in major crimes and found nothing to suggest you had talked to her. Then, I checked with Derringer, who I hadn’t talked to in more than a year. She couldn’t believe our luck when she had found Gannon’s notes on his desk after he had been arrested. Derringer told me that she’d called Lynda—pretending to be all excited about finding a witness. Then, she followed her home from work the day before they were to meet.” He shook his head. “All Derringer had to do was one little push and our problem was over.”

  Concern washed over Underwood’s face. “Sanchez knew nothing about any of this. He was never involved in any way. I’ve told him nothing.”

  “So noted,” David said.

  “Who killed Gannon?” Mac asked.

  “I did,” Underwood said. “He knew about Lynda.”

  “And Derringer?” David asked. “If the two of you were in on this together, why did you kill her?”

  “Because we’ve had a falling out in the last few of years,” Underwood said. “I didn’t feel like I could trust her anymore.”

  “You shot my deputy chief this afternoon,” David said.

  “I’m sorry about that,” Underwood said with a sigh. “With so much happening, I felt like things were falling apart. I was becoming desperate.”

  “After you killed Derringer, why didn’t you leave the hotel?” Mac asked. “Why did you stick around when you knew the place was swarming with law enforcement investigating two murders?”

  “I couldn’t leave Joan. She’s had no idea what I’ve done. We came for the wedding. I couldn’t leave without creating suspicion.”

  “That’s right,” Mac said while gazing up at the ceiling. “You couldn’t.”

  After they had finished taking their suspect’s detailed confession, David ordered Officer Brewster to put Underwood in the holding cell in the basement of the police station.

  The police chief found Mac thumbing through the case file at Bogie’s desk in the deputy chief’s office. David leaned in the doorway and folded his arms across his chest. “What do you think?”

  “So many suspects. So many lies.” Mac continued to leaf through the reports in the folder.

  “Everyone is lying for their own reasons.”

  Mac placed his finger on a line in a witness’s statement. “All we have to do is find out which liar is the killer.”

  “Chief?” Officer Brewster called to him from the reception area. “Someone is here to see you and Faraday.”

  A quick glance at the time revealed that it was close to midnight. Concluding that the visitor was the lawyer Sanchez had called, Mac and David went to the reception area.

  Instead, they found Will Harrington clad in jeans and a hunting jacket. “I heard you’ve arrested Troy Underwood for killing Trevor Polk and Brie Pratt. Is that true?”

  “He confessed,” Mac said.

  “After all these years.” Harrington eased down into a chair in the reception area. He sucked in a deep breath. Slowly, he raised his eyes to Mac’s. “Was he ever on your radar?”

  “Sanchez and he alibied each other,” Mac said. “They had stated they were all together at a table in the banquet room and you had joined them shortly before Kassandra went upstairs to find the bodies.”

  Harrington nodded his head. “They were all together—all four of them. Sanchez, Underwood, and their wives when I came in. They saw I was alone and asked me to join them.”

  “When did you get to the reception?” Mac asked.

  “I’m afraid I was late.” Harrington chuckled. “I went to the wedding. But I had made a wrong turn on the way to the Willard. Then there were detours and an accident. I was almost all the way on the other side of the Capital before I managed to get turned around and back at the hotel.”

  Mac stared at him.

  Harrington stared back at him. As the silence between them lengthened, Harrington arched his eyebrow in a dare for the younger detective to challenge him.

  “Derringer had stated that she was with you at the bar from the time she arrived at the reception until you joined Underwood and Sanchez. She also stated that you had expressed concern for Polk’s safety since he had been bragging about putting away Yurievich’s grandson. That was why all of you went to Kassandra to suggest she check on them.”

  The corners of the old man’s lips curled. “You probably read the same thing in my statement. That I was with Derringer.”

  “Yes,” Mac said. “Unfortunately, we have more than one witness who stated that Underwood and Derringer were hooking up in a closet during the time of the murder. You can see how that causes a problem with Underwood’s confession. How could he be hooking up with Derringer and killing Pratt and Polk at the same time?”

  “I see.” Harrington rubbed his chin. “Looks like you got me.”

  Mac and David exchanged glances.

  “Derringer insisted,” Harrington said. “She was concerned that I didn’t have an alibi. Now, we both know that there is no faster way to become a murder suspect than to lie, but she said she was going to say the two of us were together at the bar whether I went along with her or not. I didn’t want to contradict her, so—” He rubbed his right shoulder with a guilty grin. “I guess now we know the real reason she lied. She needed me to alibi her while she was in the closet with Underwood, who was killing Polk and Pratt.”

  “We have two witnesses who put her and Underwood in the closet at the time of the murders,” David said. “How could they—”

  “Are you certain there’s not another way out of that closet?” Harrington asked. “Drop ceilings? Ventilation ducts?”

  “We’ll have to check into that.” Mac’s eyes narrowed in thought. He scratched his ear. “There’s just one problem.”

  “Only one, Mac?” Harrington chuckled.

  “We have a witness who claimed you bumped into Gannon, which made him spill his drink onto Trevor Polk’s shirt. That happened when the limo arrived. But you just told me that you didn’t get to the hotel until shortly before the bodies were found.” Mac shrugged his shoulders. “Can you see my problem?”

  “Mac,” Harrington grinned. “I knew Gannon for thirty years. He never needed help spilling a drink.”

  “He said someone pushed him on purpose. That’s why Pratt and Polk had to go up to the honeymoon suite. To change Trevor’s shirt. That provided the murderer the opportunity to get them alone to kill them.”

  “That’s a very good theory, Mac,” Harrington said. “And maybe that’s how it happened. But, if someone bumped into Gannon to make him spill his drink on Polk, it wasn’t me.”

  “My witness is awfully certain.”

  “Your witness is wrong. There were a lot of people crowded around when that limo arrived—”

  “How do you know that if you weren’t there?” Mac asked.

  Harrington’s eyes met Mac’s. A slim grin crossed his face. “You’ve still got it.” His smile fell. “I’m assuming there were a lot of people there.” He glanced at David, who was watching the discussion in silence. “What else did Underwood tell you?”

  “He also confessed to killing Derringer.”

  Harrington’s mouth dropped open. After a long moment of silence, he closed it and swallowed. “I didn’t see that coming. I thought—” He shook his head. “I can’t imagine.”

  “If he was capable of killing two fellow detectives, why would you be so surprised about him murdering his accomplice?” Mac asked.

  “Because …” Harrington’s voice trailed off. “I saw nothing Friday night to even suggest that they had been recently acquainted.”

  “Neither did I,” Mac said.

 
“Do you believe Underwood’s confession?” Harrington asked.

  “Why would someone lie about murder?” Mac asked.

  The only one who greeted David at the door was Storm. He was so exhausted after the long day involving two murders, a shooting, and two arrests, that he had almost forgotten that he had a family waiting at home.

  Almost forgotten.

  He was grateful to find Bogie conscious and Doc kind enough to allow him five minutes to visit long after visiting hours at the hospital were over.

  It was only after allowing Storm back into the house and taking a bottle of beer out of the fridge and opening it that Gabriel sat up from where he had fallen asleep on the sofa. “Do you always stay out this late?”

  David checked the time on his phone to see that it was after two o’clock. “Isn’t it past your bedtime?”

  Gabriel gave a signature teenaged eye roll. “I’ve never had a bedtime. Grandma doesn’t believe in them. What’s the point of forcing yourself to go to sleep when you aren’t tired?”

  “She’s right and wrong. People need a bedtime so that their internal clock stays on schedule.” David took a sip of his beer. As he stepped into the drop-down living room, he discovered Hope curled up on the loveseat. She was dressed in her lounging pajamas and his bathrobe. “You two didn’t have to wait up for me.” He lowered his voice to not wake her.

  “Mom insisted. She says I owe you an apology.”

  “You don’t have to apologize if you don’t feel you owe me.” David sat on the arm of the loveseat near her head.

  “I shouldn’t have made that crack about you sleeping with my mom when she was your subordinate.” Gabriel hugged a cushion and looked up at David from the top of his eyes. “It was a cheap shot. Sorry.”

  “Why did you say it?”

  “Because you chewed me out for driving and I’m a really good driver. Really I am.”

  “One,” David said, “your mother is the only subordinate that I had an inappropriate relationship with. Not that that is any excuse. I wasn’t taking advantage of her. That was never my intention. I loved—” He stopped when he realized what he was about to say.

  Gabriel squinted up at him. The corners of his mouth curled upward.

  In that moment, David was struck by a familiar expression in Gabriel’s blue eyes—an even mixture of playful and devilish at the same time. They reminded him of the look his father used to get when they would embark in a seemingly casual conversation—right before he’d dive deep into a subject that David preferred not to discuss.

  “Have you thought about Mom since …” Gabriel shrugged.

  “Many times,” David said in a soft voice.

  “Why haven’t you gotten married?”

  “About you driving without a license,” David said in a strong voice. “It has nothing to do with how well you drive. That’s not the issue. The issue is that the law says you can’t drive without a license. I don’t make the laws. My job is to enforce the law—even laws that I may disagree with.”

  “You are aware that most laws are subjective?”

  “You’re fifteen years old. That is not subjective. It’s a fact. You also had an accident. That is another fact.”

  “Because a killer ran me off the road.”

  “Do you like fishing?” While Gabriel adjusted to the abrupt change in subject, David took a long drink of the beer.

  “What does fishing have to do with driving?” Gabriel asked.

  “Nothing,” David said. “Do you like to fish?”

  “I love to fish. Have you ever been deep sea fishing? I caught a swordfish once.”

  “I’ve been deep sea fishing only a couple of times,” David said. “Deep Creek Lake has great fishing. I’ve caught trout right off my dock out here. You and I will go fishing before you go back home.”

  “Sounds like fun.” Gabriel tossed a toy to Storm, who looked offended when it bounced off the bridge of her nose. “I think your dog is broken. She can’t catch.”

  “She has no eye-snout coordination.”

  “Then I’m right. She is broken.”

  “Unfortunately, her warranty has expired, so you’re just going to have to deal with it.” Patting Storm on the head, David smirked at him. “Any other questions you want to ask me, Gabriel?”

  “Aren’t fathers and sons supposed to feel something like an instant connection?” Gabriel asked. “No offense, but to me—not that you aren’t a nice guy—but you just seem like an average guy—except for the shooting bad guys and arresting murderers and stuff.”

  “And you seem like some know-it-all teenager to me—except for the driving a Porsche without a license.”

  “What do you want me to call you?”

  David took a gulp of beer. “Not Pops.”

  “I called my dad ‘Dad,’” Gabriel said. “But it turns out he’s not my dad. It doesn’t seem right for me to call him ‘Dad’ anymore. But then, it feels weird to call you ‘Dad.’ When I think—”

  “Why don’t you call me ‘David?’” He shot a crooked grin in his direction. “That is my name, and I do answer to that.”

  “Well, if you want to be simplistic about it,” Gabriel muttered. “The Faradays seem like nice people.”

  “They are extremely nice. Mac is my half-brother.”

  “Really?” Gabriel sat up in his seat. “He’s like rich. Are you—”

  “He inherited it from his mother,” David said. “We had the same father.” He shrugged his shoulders. “I guess that makes him your rich uncle.”

  “No offense,” Gabriel said. “They’re really nice, but they are a little strange. I mean, like, why do they keep a bra in their umbrella stand?”

  “Because the underwire could create a fire hazard if they put it in their microwave.”

  They stared at each other—sizing each other up.

  “I wonder if things would have been different if Mom had told you the truth back when she found out about me,” Gabriel said.

  “I was in the Middle East,” David said. “She didn’t even know where I was then.”

  “Did you want to marry my mom? Would you have married her?”

  David took a long sip of his beer. Staring at Storm, who was gazing up at him with adoration, he said, “I was a different person back then.” He looked up to where Gabriel was sitting across from him. “A wise man once told me that the past is irrelevant. We all say and do things in the past that we regret.”

  “Do you regret m—”

  “No!” David swallowed. “What I’m saying is that we can’t go back and change the way we treated people in the past. The relationships we damaged. The things we said and did. We can’t undo our mistakes. What we do have the power to do is change the present and control the future.”

  He cocked his head at him. “I can’t go back and make up for all the years that we haven’t had to build a regular father-son relationship. But we can start now. Here and today. I do want to get to know you and reconnect with your mother.”

  “I suspect you’ve already reconnected with my mom.”

  David grinned. “I’d like to have a deeper connection with her. … If that’s all right with you.”

  Gabriel sat back in his seat and laced his fingers behind his head. “Considering that you two already made me, I think it’s a little late in the game for you to be asking my permission.”

  “True.” David took a sip of his beer. “That was just a courtesy on my part.” He tapped Hope on the shoulder to wake her up. “I have a meeting tomorrow morning. After I get back, we’ll do something fun—just the three of us.”

  Gabriel followed David into the kitchen. “You know, most fathers and sons drink beer while watching a game together.”

  “It’s after two o’clock in the morning.”

  “Not in Europe. We can find a game and split a s
ix pack of beer.”

  David pointed upstairs. “Go to bed.”

  “But—”

  “Go to bed, Gabriel,” Hope said with a sleepy voice.

  “Grandma would—”

  “Go to bed,” she said in a louder voice.

  While David smiled at him, Gabriel trotted up the stairs to one of the spare rooms. David got a second bottle of beer, which he offered to her as he sat on the loveseat. She laid her head in his lap. “You did a good job with him.”

  “In spite of an indifferent father figure and a grandmother who believes rules were made to be broken.” She smiled up at him. “He likes you.”

  “He doesn’t know me.”

  “But what he does know he likes.” She stroked his cheek. “And I like you, too.”

  “Just like?”

  She wet her lips. “I have thought about you a lot throughout the years. I’ve seen so much of you in Gabriel—things that attracted me to you from the start.”

  David searched her face. “I’ve thought about you, too. I enjoy being with you—and it wasn’t just physical.” He brushed a lock of hair out of her eyes. “Though that was right up there.”

  Sitting up, she rested her head on his shoulder. “I’m sorry that we sprang this on you the way we did.”

  Squeezing her shoulders, he kissed her on the forehead. “You don’t have to apologize for anything.”

  “It was so important to me that Gabriel have a father,” she said. “I could have just raised him as a single mother. That’s what Mom did with me. I didn’t want Gabriel to have the type of childhood I had—always wondering—” She sighed. “But then, the way Rick—not just rejected him, but ripped his heart out. It would have been better to have raised Gabriel alone.”

  David lifted her head by her chin and looked into her eyes. “You two aren’t alone anymore.”

  “I’m sorry that our time is short. We’ve got to leave on Monday.”

  “I can take some time off,” David said. “What if I go back with you? Would Gabriel like that?”