8 A Wedding and a Killing Read online

  Table of Contents

  A WEDDING AND A KILLING: Book Information

  Dedication

  Cast of Characters

  Epigraph

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Epilogue

  The Gnarly Rehabilitation Program

  About the Author

  Check Out Lauren Carr’s Mysteries!

  A Wedding

  and

  A Killing

  A Mac Faraday Mystery

  By

  Lauren Carr

  A WEDDING AND A KILLING: Book Information

  All Rights Reserved © 2014 by Lauren Carr

  Published by Acorn Book Services

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping, or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author.

  For information call: 304-995-1295

  or Email: [email protected]

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Designed by Acorn Book Services

  Publication Managed by Acorn Book Services

  www.acornbookservices.com

  [email protected]

  304-995-1295

  Cover designed by Todd Aune

  Spokane, Washington

  www.projetoonline.com

  Candle Cover Image provided by [email protected]

  Published in the United States of America

  Dedication

  To My Brothers and Sisters in Christ

  Table of Contents

  A WEDDING AND A KILLING: Book Information

  Dedication

  Cast of Characters

  Epigraph

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Check Out Lauren Carr’s Mysteries!

  Cast of Characters

  (in order of appearance)

  Jason Fairbanks: Murder victim in New York.

  Mrs. Tuyon Weber: Fairbanks’ next door neighbor.

  David O’Callaghan: Spencer police chief. Son of the late police chief, Patrick O’Callaghan. Mac Faraday’s best friend and half-brother.

  Chelsea Adams: Paralegal for Ben Fleming. First and current love of David O’Callaghan. Suffering from epilepsy, she has Molly, a service dog trained to sense and warn of seizures.

  Molly: White German Shepherd. Chelsea Adams’ service dog.

  Ben Fleming: Garrett County prosecuting attorney. He’s one of the good guys.

  Senator Catherine Fleming: Ben Fleming’s wife. United States Senator from Maryland.

  Mac Faraday: Retired homicide detective. On the day his divorce became final, he inherited $270 million and an estate on Deep Creek Lake from his birth mother, Robin Spencer.

  Archie Monday: Former editor and research assistant to world-famous mystery author Robin Spencer. She is now Mac Faraday’s lady love.

  Gnarly: German shepherd. One-hundred pounds of fur, claws, and teeth. The only K-9 dishonorably discharged from the United States Army. Don’t ask them why. It’s classified and they refuse to talk about it.

  Robin Spencer: Mac Faraday’s late birth mother and world-famous mystery author. As an unwed and pregnant teenager, she gave him up for adoption. Her ancestors founded Spencer, Maryland, located on the shore of Deep Creek Lake, a resort area in Western Maryland.

  Police Chief Patrick O’Callaghan: David’s late father. Spencer’s legendary police chief. The love of Robin Spencer’s life and Mac Faraday’s birth father.

  Deputy Chief Arthur Bogart (Bogie): Spencer’s Deputy Police Chief. David’s godfather. Don’t let his gray hair and weathered face fool you.

  Reverend Deborah Hess: Pastor at Spencer Church, located on the shore of Deep Creek Lake. Over a hundred years old, the church was started by the Mac Faraday’s ancestors.

  Eugene Newton: Chief Trustee at Spencer Church. Murder victim.

  Ruth Buchanan: Caretaker for Spencer Church. Lives in caretaker’s cottage next door.

  Edna Parker: Office Manager at Spencer Church.

  Chip Van Dorn: Murder suspect.

  Helga Thorpe: Trustee at Spencer Church. Business manager at Thorpe Sporting Goods and Boat Rentals in McHenry, which has been in business for fifty years.

  Officer Nathan Brewster: Spencer Police Officer.

  Natalie Buchanan: Ruth’s teenaged daughter.

  Chase Hess: Deborah’s daughter.

  Sirrus Thorpe: Helga’s husband. Owner of Thorpe Sporting Goods and Boat Rentals.

  Carmine Romano: Trustee at Spencer Church. Owner of Carmine’s Pizza.

  Tonya: Desk Sergeant at Spencer Police Department.

  Ed Willingham: Mac Faraday’s lawyer.

  Marilyn Newton: Eugene Newton’s widow and murder suspect. She bought twenty gallons of gasoline, a pig, and booked a cruise to Hawaii the day after her husband’s murder.

  Bill Clark: Member of Spencer’s town council. Marilyn Newton calls him Twerpie. He wants David O’Callaghan fired.

  Reese Fairbanks: Jason Fairbanks’ father.

  Jenny Fairbanks: Jason Fairbanks’ mother.

  Winston Hawkins: County Prosecutor in upstate New York where Jason Fairbanks was murdered.

  Sheriff Quinton Nichols: Sheriff who investigated Jason Fairbanks’ murder in New York.

  Sid Delaney: FBI Special Agent.

  Portia Hagar: Jason Fairbanks’ mistress.

  Deputy Guy Stacey: Sheriff’s Deputy in New York. Did things go too far when he decided to take the law into his own hands?

  Epigraph

  Fire and swords are slow engines of destruction, compared to the tongue of a Gossip.

  Sir Richard Steele , Irish Writer and Politician

  Prologue

  Catskill Mountains, New York: Seven Years Ago

  “Dad’s home!”

 
In most homes, such an announcement from a ten-year-old girl of her father’s arrival would cause sounds of joy. The mother would smile in anticipation. The children would maybe squeal in delight.

  In contrast, upon seeing her father’s red Jaguar pull into the driveway and make its way to the garage, Holly Fairbanks shrieked and ran into the foyer to help her mother, who almost fell in her haste to carry a heavy suitcase down the stairs.

  “What are we going to do?” Holly fought the tears that were making their way to her eyes.

  Scarlett Fairbanks shoved the suitcase at her daughter. “Go out through the French doors and around the house. Make sure your father doesn’t see you. Get in the car and don’t come back in. No matter what happens.” She thrust a cell phone into her daughter’s hand. “If anything happens and I don’t make it out, call Madame X. Her phone number is the only contact on this phone. Tell her what happened and she’ll help you.”

  They both turned to the kitchen door at the sound of the garage door opening on the other side.

  “Hurry,” Scarlett hissed while pushing her daughter toward the French doors leading to the spacious backyard at the foot of the Adirondack Mountains. “Go now. Go!”

  Scurrying as fast as she could, Holly went outside and dragged the suitcase behind the shrubbery to the driveway where their SUV was parked.

  Scarlett smoothed her long chestnut-colored hair with her hand and sucked in a deep breath to calm her frazzled nerves. Calm. I must remain calm. It’s almost over.

  Trying to appear as casual as possible, she made her way into the kitchen where her purse rested on the table in the breakfast nook. Reaching into the front compartment, she rested her hand on the thirty-two caliber semi-automatic that had been delivered to her home only five days before. The surge of confidence the touch of the cold metal gave her was surprising.

  The kitchen door flew open.

  “There you are.” Jason Fairbanks slammed it shut.

  For a split second, she wondered if he was even capable of closing a door without slamming it. But when she laid her eyes on him, her wonder gave way to another question.

  Jason Fairbanks looked like he had taken a shower in his slacks and sports coat. His shirt stuck to his body. His hair was caked flat to his head and his face looked pained.

  She opened her mouth to ask what had happened. Then, concluding that the reminder of what was obviously an unpleasant experience would only contribute to his bad mood, she opted to say nothing.

  He tossed his valise onto the counter on his way to the refrigerator. As was his custom, he yanked open the door and took out a beer.

  Glancing at the clock, she noted the time was three-thirty. Even if he was Reese Fairbanks’ son, he was expected to at least make the appearance of working until five o’clock at the bank which the Fairbanks family owned. “You’re home early. Something happen?”

  Like a rattlesnake striking its prey, he whirled around and grabbed her by the throat. “Yes, something happened. You want to make something of it?”

  She grasped her hand around the gun’s grip. He knows! How does he know? I’ve been so careful. Her eyes wide, she fought to inhale air past his grip on her throat.

  “You’ve been talking to Portia.”

  She tried to gasp out her denial.

  “Having a good laugh?” His dark eyes, the whites yellowed from years of drinking, were rimmed in red. His breath reeked of whiskey and cigarettes. His body smelled of expensive men’s cologne.

  So that’s it! Portia. His latest mistress—until she left him. He thought he had gotten his revenge. Obviously not.

  Oh, how Scarlett yearned for when she had the courage to fight back. “No!” she forced out. “I haven’t.”

  “Liar!” He released his grip on her throat and slapped her with the back of his hand.

  She flew sideways against the wall. In spite of the force that sent her flying, she maintained her grip on the gun so that it went with her. When she bounced off the wall, fury built up over years of pain and humiliation came together. Instantly, she found her footing and the courage to grab the gun with both hands and aim it at her abuser.

  “What’s that?” Jason laughed at the sight of his wife standing before him on both feet with a gun aimed directly at his chest.

  “It’s called a gun.” Swallowing the blood that she felt oozing into her mouth from the fat lip, she pulled back on the hammer. “You’re never going to lay a hand on me or our daughter ever again.”

  “Really?” He stepped toward her. “And how are you going to stop me? Shoot me?”

  Holly jerked in her seat at the sound of the two gun shots. He killed her! She yanked open the car door to run inside to her mother’s aid. Then, just as abruptly, she stopped. No, stick to the plan. I need to call Madame X. Clutching the cell phone, she stared at the keypad. Fear paralyzed her. He did it. He finally did it. Her teeth clenched. And Grandpa will make sure he gets away with it.

  “You okay, Miss Scarlett?” she heard Mrs. Weber, the kindly old woman who lived next door call out while trotting up the driveway. The tiny Vietnamese woman was clad in baggy jeans and an oversized work shirt. Her floppy gardening hat bounced on her head.

  From the other direction, Holly saw her mother running toward the car from the house.

  “I’m fine, Mrs. Weber,” Scarlett gasped out while yanking open the driver’s side door.

  Holly was overwhelmed with joy to see her mother was safe. She had a welt across her cheek and a bloody mouth, but at least she was alive. Her elation disappeared when she saw the anxiety in her face.

  “Want me call police?” Mrs. Weber asked with her thick Asian accent. Even though she had lived in America for several decades, her accent was still so thick that Holly had trouble understanding her.

  “No!” Seeing the shocked look on the old woman’s face, Scarlett stopped to take a deep breath. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Weber. Everything is going to be okay.”

  “Hope so, dear,” Mrs. Weber said. “You go now. No worry. Things good here.”

  Scarlett paused to gaze into the kindly old woman’s face.

  “Mom, we should go,” Holly insisted.

  “Go now,” Mrs. Weber said. “No time to waste.” Tugging on her gardening gloves, she stepped back from the car.

  Scarlett tossed her purse into the backseat, turned the key in the ignition, and gunned the engine when she tore around the circular drive and raced out onto the road to head south toward the main freeway.

  “What happened, Mom?” Seeing the bloody lip, Holly asked, “Is Daddy coming after us? Is Grandpa going to send people to bring us back again?”

  “No.” Scarlett wiped the sweat from her forehead. Her voice shook when she told her, “Call Madame X, please, and hand me the phone.”

  Holly hit the button and listened for the phone to ring. When a woman answered, she handed the phone to her mother.

  Keeping her eyes on the road while driving as fast as she dared, Scarlett propped the phone against her shoulder.

  “Have you made your escape?” the voice on the other end of the phone asked.

  “Yes,” Scarlett said, “but something terrible has happened.” She sobbed. “I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

  “Don’t worry, Scarlett,” Madame X said. “Keep to the plan. Tell me everything that happened and I’ll take care of it.”

  Chapter One

  Deep Creek Lake, Maryland—Present Day

  “I’m waiting.” Police Chief David O’Callaghan bent over to breathe into Chelsea Adams’ ear to distract her.

  Keeping her pale blue eyes on the screen of her laptop, she giggled at the feel of his hot breath brushing through her wavy platinum locks to tickle her neck. “I’m almost ready. Why don’t you go bother Molly and let me get my out-of-office replies set up for my email?”

  David turned to where Molly, a
white German shepherd, was curled up on her bed in the corner behind Chelsea’s desk, which was located in the outer office of Garrett County’s prosecuting attorney. Molly’s bushy tail slapped her bed when she wagged it in response to his attention. Trained to detect oncoming epileptic seizures for her mistress, Molly was Chelsea’s constant companion.

  “Hey, Molly, how are you today?” he asked. She answered by getting up and nuzzling her snout in his lap where he sat on the corner of Chelsea’s desk. He returned the greeting with scratches behind her ears.

  “No uniform today, David?” Prosecutor Ben Fleming came out of his office to see that the police chief was dressed in khaki slacks and a blue short-sleeved shirt.

  Looking like he had just stepped off the golf course, Ben was equally casual in a polo shirt, slacks, and loafers. Coming from a long line of old money and political connections, the prosecutor spent almost as much time at the Spencer Inn, the five-star resort at the top of Spencer Mountain, as he did in the courtroom. In keeping with his elegant upbringing, Ben Fleming was never caught with a blond hair out of place or a smudge on his tailored shirt.

  “I am allowed to take a day off once in a while,” David said before turning to Chelsea. “You did ask Ben to take this afternoon off, didn’t you?”

  “That’s why I’m setting up my email.” She slapped the lid down on her laptop and reached into the desk’s bottom drawer for her purse.

  “I just assumed you were at the station this morning, too,” Ben said.

  “I had errands to run.” David slipped off the desk and attached Molly’s leash to her collar.

  Before they could leave, Ben’s wife, Catherine, stepped through the door. With a deep sigh, she announced, “It’s a gorgeous summer day out there.” Seeing Chelsea and David, she grinned. “Going to lunch? If I were you, I’d hit one of the lakeside bistros and enjoy the breeze off the water.”

  “Chelsea is taking the whole afternoon off to spend with David,” Ben said with a wink.

  “The whole afternoon?” Catherine said with a naughty tone. “Well, you picked the perfect day for it. What are you planning?”

  “Picnic,” David quipped at the same time that Chelsea answered, “Shopping.”