Shades of Murder (The Mac Faraday Mysteries) Page 12

  “It’s only a boat.” Joshua grabbed him by the shoulders. “Be thankful that no one was hurt.”

  Bogie emerged from the fire fighters down on the dock. “Sorry about your boat, Mac. She looks like she was quite a beaut.”

  Mac didn’t like the angry stammer that crept into his tone. “Wh-what happened?”

  “They think the guy was drunk or crazy or something,” Bogie said.

  David observed the tire tracks through the landscape. “It looks like he drove in reverse through the gardens and across the dock to land right on top of your boat.”

  Mac scoffed. “Do you think so?”

  Kenny told Harry, “I ain’t never seen nothing like this. Have you?”

  “Never,” Harry said. “Now I’ve seen everything.”

  Bogie reported, “Witnesses said he peeled down over the hill like he was being chased by Satan.”

  “Was he hurt?” Mac finally thought to ask.

  “Some boaters fished him out,” the deputy chief reported. “He’s on his way to the ER now. He was babbling about being attacked by a werewolf trying to kill him.”

  “Gnarly! I’m going to kill you!” When Mac turned to run up to the house he tripped over an uprooted rose bush and fell face down into a mound of fertilizer.

  David helped him to his feet. “Mac, you need to calm down.”

  “Don’t tell me to calm down. Your boat didn’t get blown all to hell.”

  “I’m sure there’s a good explanation.”

  “I’m sure there is, too. Its name is Gnarly.”

  As Mac stumbled up to the house, Cameron turned to Joshua. “So this is how the rich and famous live.”

  Joshua nodded his head. “Very much so.”

  Mac charged up the porch steps and threw open the front door. The rug in the middle of the room was pushed up against the fireplace. Furniture was overturned, except for the loveseat that rested with its back to the door.

  Mac found Archie standing guard over Gnarly’s favorite chair. “What did you do now, you—”

  Archie met him halfway across the room to stop him with a hand on his chest. “Don’t you touch him.”

  “My boat—my house!”

  “Bullet hole in the grandfather clock.” She released her hand from his chest to point a pink-tipped finger at the clock that had stopped working the hour before due to the bullet that went through its face.

  The fury dissolved. As it did, Mac’s vision cleared. The roar of his anger silenced enough for him to hear the whine from the loveseat behind her.

  Gnarly peered over the back of the couch at him. His ears stood tall and erect. His eyes met Mac with a glint that he had seen many a time—usually right before he snatched a sandwich from his plate.

  “He was defending our home,” Archie said.

  When she turned around, Gnarly’s ears fell back and his eyes grew wide and soft while he uttered a mournful whine.

  I don’t believe this! Gnarly’s playing the poor puppy card!

  She slipped onto the loveseat next to the dog. “Poor, Gnarly. It must have been quite a fight going up against someone with a gun. What a dog.”

  Gnarly wagged his tail so hard that Mac could hear it slap the seat cushion.

  “You must have been scared, huh?” She pulled his head against her chest into a tight hug. “I don’t know what I would have done if he had shot you. You poor helpless dear.” Her eyes misted up. “I’m never leaving you home alone ever again.” She ordered, “Mac, tell him he’s not in trouble.”

  “I’m not so sure that he’s not. Was all this damage necessary?”

  “He was doing his job.”

  When Gnarly turned his head from where he was nuzzling her neck, Mac swore he saw the dog wink at him.

  “Mac, how can you be so hard-hearted? The burglar shot at Gnarly. What if he’d been hurt or killed?”

  Can’t you see he’s a con-dog? He’s got you wrapped around his dew-claw and he knows it.

  She gestured at a sliver of free space on the loveseat on the other side of the dog. “Mac, sit down and tell Gnarly that he’s a good dog and how glad you are that he’s okay.”

  Gnarly welcomed his touch by nuzzling him in the chest when Mac slipped onto the couch. “Looks like you had quite a party this afternoon while we were gone, huh, Gnarl?”

  Archie stroked the dog’s ears. “What happened? Did you chase the bad guy away?”

  Gnarly pulled away, stood up on the seat, and dug at the cushions.

  Mac told her, “Witnesses said the guy was whacked out. He was probably too drunk or stoned to hit the broad side of a barn.”

  Gnarly dug his snout deep down between the cushion and the back of the loveseat.

  “He told the rescuers that a werewolf was trying to kill him.”

  Gnarly lifted his snout up from between the cushions with a semi-automatic pistol in his mouth.

  “So this is what all the fuss has been about all these years?” Kenny asked when they went down to the study to examine Ilysa Ramsay’s last painting.

  Bogie handed out evidence gloves to all of them. “Like we really need them now. As much as this thing has probably been handled all these years, any evidence that was on it has already been contaminated.”

  Mac disagreed. “Remember it was stolen. Poole could allow only a limited number of people to see it. It isn’t like this thing has been hung up on the wall at the local gallery. If there’s evidence on it of the murder, it could still be on it.”

  Cameron and Joshua gazed at the image of the woman on the lounging chair.

  Joshua said, “That’s our victim. But is it Ilysa or Fiona?”

  Cameron stepped up to examine the red choker. “The red choker is where she was garroted.” She turned to Joshua. “This proves it. Her twin was the Ghost.” She pressed her finger against the face and traced the neck and choker in the painting. “This is almost a duplicate of the pictures they showed on the news.”

  “Even the sofa,” Joshua pointed out. “The clover pattern represents the field where the victim’s body was dumped.”

  “Ilysa wasn’t predicting her death in this painting,” Mac said, “she was trying to flush out her sister’s killer by depicting her murder.”

  “In our last phone conversation, the Ghost told me that she knew who did it,” Cameron said, “and that she’d take care of it.”

  Bogie said, “Instead the killer took care of her.”

  “The murderer must be in this painting.” Joshua stepped back to get a better view.

  Everyone lined up on either side of him to study the party scene.

  “The first murder victim was garroted.” Joshua asked Cameron, “Didn’t you say the Ghost asked if the murder weapon could have been a piano wire?”

  When Cameron nodded her head, David pointed out that Susan Dulin and Peyton Kaplan were at the piano.

  Archie told them, “There’s also a harp in the picture. That uses the same type of wire.”

  “Who’s the creepy woman playing it?” Cameron asked.

  “Greta,” David said. “She’s been working for the Hathaways since Neal’s son was a little boy.”

  Cameron shuddered. “She looks like a female version of Lurch from The Addams Family.”

  “The Hathaways have both a piano and a harp,” Mac said. “His executive assistant, Susan, plays the harp.”

  David pointed out, “But she’s not playing it in this painting. She’s with Peyton Kaplan.”

  Grumbling, Harry shook his head. “Artists. Using all this symbolism. If she really wanted her sister’s killer caught, she should have just told us who did it. But she’d gotten herself in so deep being a thief, that he’s still on the loose. Not only that, but if she did steal those access codes for Hathaway’s satellites, a lot of innocent people could very well get killed.”

  Cameron asked Harry, “What exactly are we looking for? A code? A disk? A piece of paper?”

  “Could be anything.”

  While they circled
the canvas, Archie bent over to peer at the stretch bars across which the canvas had been stretched. “We’re dealing with satellites. That tells me that we’re talking about computer data and files.”

  Mac told them, “Archie is my IT girl.”

  “I think we’re looking for a smart disk.” Archie held out her hand. “Mac, can you get me the letter opener from the desk?”

  While Mac went to the desk, she dug her fingers down into the corner of the canvas where two bars were stapled together. After he handed the letter opener to her, she dug the point into the opening.

  “Careful,” Kenny warned.

  With a cry, Archie yanked her hand back and held up a smart chip encased in a plastic cover. It was only about one inch by one inch in size. “It may be small, but I’ll bet it’s filled with lots of secrets.”

  Harry snatched it from her hand. “Where can we check it out?”

  Archie led them over to the desk where Mac’s laptop rested.

  “Very clever,” Kenny told them. “If the painting is X-rayed, a disk that small will be concealed by the staples and nails in the frame.”

  Harry said, “Once the painting’s overseas, the disk is removed and handed over to the buyer.”

  Archie turned the laptop around for Harry and Kenny to examine the contents of the disk. After examining the list of files on the disk, Harry jabbed Kenny in the ribs. “We got it. Now, I can retire in peace knowing that this information isn’t in the lunatics’ hands.”

  Harry popped the disk out of the laptop. “Exactly what we want to protect.” He chuckled as he made a show of dropping the disk into an evidence envelope. “I can’t wait to call Washington about this. A lot of people are going to be very happy.”

  Harry let out a gasp when David O’Callaghan caught the disk in midair and tossed it over to Bogie. “This is evidence.” The police chief pointed over to the painting. “So is that. This disk and that painting are both going down to the police station to be locked up in the evidence locker.” He turned to Mac. “Sorry, but I should have taken this into evidence when it first showed up here days ago. I thought so many years after the murder that it wasn’t necessary. But, after what happened tonight—”

  “And the direction this case has taken,” Bogie agreed.

  “—we can’t take anymore chances.”

  Harry argued, “That disk contains information that is extremely important to national security.”

  “Which is why I’m having it locked up,” David said.

  Bogie added, “We’ll call in additional officers to guard it, along with local, state, and federal officers.”

  “The safest place for it right now is the police station,” David assured him. “We’ll protect it.”

  “But from who?” Joshua asked, “We still don’t know who was behind this attack tonight. Was it Ilysa Ramsay’s killer or Al Qaeda trying to pick up what they paid for back in 2004.”

  Harry said, “Fortunately, whoever stole this canvas must have taken it for the painting itself.”

  Mac said, “The theft of the painting could very well be the motive for the second Ilysa Ramsay murder. The buyer came to pick up the painting, only it had already been stolen, along with the chip. They didn’t believe Fiona or Ilsya that she didn’t have it. Al Qaeda thought she was cheating them and killed her.”

  “Without ever getting the chip?” Archie asked.

  As if to remind them of his presence, Gnarly barked.

  Looking over at Gnarly, who was sitting on the stairs, Joshua said, “It’s been all over the news about the painting turning up again. Maybe the buyer tried to collect it tonight, but didn’t count on your dog being so ...”

  “Brave.” Archie jabbed Mac in the ribs before he could use another word. “Bad guys never stand a chance when Gnarly’s on the case.”

  Chapter Nine

  “Mac, you’re not going to believe what the clerk just told me.” Jeff Ingles, the Spencer Inn’s manager, rushed across the lobby to meet Mac when he stepped into the lobby.

  After dropping Archie and Gnarly off at the entrance, Mac had parked his car and went inside to find the manager in the middle of fit. “After the day I’ve had,” Mac replied, “I’ll believe anything.”

  When Mac didn’t stop, the manager fell into step beside him. “Were you aware that the guests you instructed us to place in a corner suite have a skunk with them?”

  His voice rose from a dignified low tone to a high-pitched gasp. “Is that Gnarly?” The sight of the German Shepherd at Archie’s side made Jeff forget all about the black and white creature in Cameron Gates’s arms.

  Cameron and Joshua had been content to stay in the pet-friendly roadside hotel in which they had checked-in with Irving on the way into Spencer. However, Mac’s offer of a corner suite at the Inn, as his guests, was too good to pass up.

  It was a perfect turn of events.

  Joshua had offered to let his cousin Tad, who was taking care of Admiral, cat-sit so that they could spend a couple of nights at the Spencer Inn. As much as she wanted to spend a couple of nights alone with her lover in crime, Cameron refused. Irving would never agree to her going out of town without him.

  Joshua gave up any hope of cementing their new relationship in the lap of the Spencer Inn’s romantic paradise—until Archie sensed love in the air and whispered into Mac’s ear.

  With the house wrecked after the burglar’s encounter with Gnarly, Mac thought it best for him, Archie, and Gnarly to check into his private suit on the top floor at the Inn. Bogie and David had taken the painting and disk into evidence at the police headquarters. Meanwhile, Harry Bush was calling for local federal officers to ensure nothing happened to the disk.

  While their owners were taking care of business, Gnarly and Irving were having a loud debate about who ruled. Dogs or Cats? Judging by his whines and yelps, Gnarly was losing.

  “Mac, have you forgotten what happened last time?” Jeff pleaded with him. “You promised me. And now you have friends checking in with a skunk? What do you think we’re running here? A zoo?”

  “That’s not a skunk,” Mac said. “It’s a cat. And, we couldn’t leave Gnarly home alone.”

  “Sure,” Jeff said, “But there’s a very nice kennel —”

  From where she was collecting the key cards for the suite, Archie shot a glance over her shoulder at the manager. Her eyebrows disappeared up into her bangs. Gnarly lowered his head like a bull preparing to charge a fighter.

  Mac said, “Jeff, I assure you, I would never have brought Gnarly back to the Inn if I didn’t have a very good reason for doing so.”

  “And what reason is that?”

  “Because I said so.” Archie led Gnarly to the elevator to take them up to penthouse.

  “That’s a good reason.” Jeff turned on his heels to hurry back to his office.

  Cameron laid her hand on Mac’s arm. “Thank you for allowing Irving to stay here. I promise he won’t be any trouble.”

  “No problem.” Mac scratched Irving behind the ears.

  Joshua offered. “Would you like to meet for a drink and do some more brainstorming? Now that the FBI has intercepted the data that the Ramsays stole, I can tell you right now that solving their murders aren’t even on their radar.”

  “I know that,” Mac said. “Have you and Cameron had dinner yet?” By the expressions on their faces, Mac saw that they’d been so wrapped up in the case that they’d forgotten about eating.

  Like minds think—and don’t eat—alike.

  “I need to take Irving upstairs.” Cameron gave Joshua a quick kiss on the lips before boarding the elevator to go upstairs to their room. “I’ll meet you down here as soon as I freshen up.”

  The relief on Joshua’s face when she left perplexed Mac. “Is she—”

  “I have no idea,” Joshua said. “I could use a drink. What about you?”

  Mac gestured for him to follow him into the restaurant. “The bar is always open.”

  On the way across the lob
by, Joshua asked, “Do you believe it’s possible for men our age to fall in love at first sight?”

  “Yep,” Mac said. “It happened to me.”

  “My grandmother used to tell me that there was no such thing as love at first sight,” Joshua said, “only lust.”

  Mac stopped with his hand on the door leading into the restaurant. “Are you married?”

  “No.”

  “Is she?”

  “No.”

  “Is she a killer, drug dealer, terrorist, or lush?”

  “She doesn’t smoke, drink, or do drugs,” Joshua said. “But she does have a borderline addiction to junk food, which I have, too.”

  “What’s your problem?”

  “Her cat’s crazy.”

  “I’m not the guy to talk to about that,” Mac replied. “You met Gnarly.” He squinted at him. “What’s your real problem?”

  “I have five kids that I’m going to have to explain my new friend to.”

  Mac looked him up and down. “Are your kids at home?”

  “Only one.”

  “Then they’re out on their own, living their own lives,” Mac said. “Why can’t you?”

  Joshua nodded his head. “You’re right.”

  “Of course, I am. I’m Mickey Forsythe. I’m never wrong.” Mac led him inside.

  Across the restaurant, Mac spied Neal Hathaway at a corner table filled with what appeared to be his people. Executive assistant Susan Dulin sat on his left side. Daughter-in-law Rachel was on his right with Scott Hathaway next to her.

  Seeming to mentally block everyone out, Rachel was texting on her cell phone.

  The Kaplans had seats on the other side of the table. Unhappy with the attention that her husband was paying to Susan Dulin, Nancy kept talking into Peyton’s ear in a low voice. The harder he tried to ignore her, the more determined she was to capture his attention.

  There was one empty chair next to Susan Dulin.

  “Speak of the devil.” Mac said while they followed the host to the owner’s private table on the other side of the restaurant.

  “I wonder which one of them leaked the discovery of Ilysa Ramsay’s painting to the media?” Mac asked him after they were seated. He pointed out each member of Hathaway’s party.