Crimes Past Page 23

  “The plastic type of bucket that comes with the room,” Mac said.

  “I had a real ice bucket,” Harrington said. “I took one from the wine locker and filled it with ice.”

  “What did you do then?”

  “I’d already checked out the champagne. I went back to the supply room and changed back. I took the champagne and my disguise back to my car. Then, I went back into the reception and pretended to have just arrived.”

  “But you claimed in your statement that you and Dani were sitting at the bar during the time of the murder.”

  “We’d agreed to alibi each other.”

  “Did you ever tell her that they were already dead when you got there?”

  “We had agreed when we set everything up that we would never talk about it,” Harrington said. “We’re detectives. Vice. Murder. At the root, the investigative technique is all the same. About the time I talk to her about the murders will be the time that she’s wearing a wire—or maybe it would be me—at which point one of us gets screwed. We had agreed when we set it up that after they were dead, I would go downstairs to the reception and greet her with a kiss on the cheek. Then she would know the deed was done. Then it would be her turn.”

  “Which was to use her position as a homicide detective to obstruct my investigation,” Mac said. “Who killed the witnesses?”

  Harrington shook his head and shrugged his shoulders at the same time. “Like I said, we never spoke about it. I will tell you that she made damn sure that she got an ID on Kelly Hughes, the escort across the hall, and hunted her down before you caught up to her.”

  “And the second witness that Gannon talked to?”

  “Had to be Derringer. The other night was the first I heard about there being a second witness.”

  Mac shook his head with a chuckle.

  “Good to see you never lost your sense of humor, Faraday.”

  “I was just thinking,” Mac said. “You and Derringer vowed to never talk about the murders, that you claim she asked you to commit. You communicated that Brie and Trevor were dead with a kiss, but you didn’t kill them.”

  “That’s right.”

  “And Derringer’s job was to obstruct my investigation to protect you—to keep you from getting caught.”

  Harrington nodded his head.

  “If what you’re telling me is true—”

  “It is.”

  “Then Derringer was conceivably protecting the wrong killer.”

  “That pretty much covers it,” Harrington said. “And it was all cool until you decided to bring us all together this weekend.” He held up his injured arms. “You can never let anything go—just like your damn dog.”

  While Mac met with Will Harrington, David took the opportunity to introduce his son to Bogie, his godfather. As soon as he saw Gabriel, Bogie held up his hand before David could make introductions.

  “Hmmm,” Bogie peered closely up at Gabriel. “Look at those blue eyes. That square jaw. Quick wit. Yes, I can see it. This is your son, isn’t he, David?”

  “How did you know?” Gabriel asked.

  With a laugh, David clasped his hands onto Gabriel’s shoulder. “Tonya told you, didn’t she?”

  “No,” Bogie said with a defiant glare. “Fletcher did.”

  Gabriel looked at Bogie’s leg, which was wrapped and elevated. “What’s it like to get shot?”

  “It hurts. But I’m a man. I can take it.”

  “The bullet clipped a main artery,” David said. “If we hadn’t applied a tourniquet, Bogie would have bled to death before the ambulance got there.”

  Bogie jabbed a finger in David’s direction. “If your daddy hadn’t applied a tourniquet I would have bled out before the ambulance got there.”

  Gabriel stared down at Bogie. The older man’s face was filled with admiration for David, the chief of police. A man who Bogie called “your daddy.” He knew it. His mother had said he was. David seemed to accept that he was. It didn’t hit home until that instant.

  “It wasn’t as dramatic as all that, Bogie,” David said. “We got the guy who did it, by the way. He was Will Harrington, a retired vice cop.”

  The grin fell from Bogie’s face. “Shooting his own brother in blue?”

  “Well, hello, boys!” Her high heels clicking on the floor, Doc Washington strode into the room.

  Gabriel’s eyes grew wide. His mouth dropped open upon seeing the stunning woman. She showed off her long legs in a short red skirt.

  “How is my favorite patient?” She breezed around the bed and bestowed a kiss on Bogie’s lips.

  “I’m in dire need of a sponge bath.” Bogie pumped his eyebrows while grinning up at her.

  “Well, we need to do something about that.”

  Taking that as a cue, David made the excuse that they needed to catch up with Hope and Archie.

  “Doc Washington sure is hot.” Gabriel practically skipped sideways down the corridor next to David while stealing one last look at Doc Washington. “Is she his doctor?” Seeing that David had continued down the hall without him, he rushed to catch up with him.

  “She’s his girlfriend.”

  “Really? An old guy like that has a hot girlfriend like her? What is she? Twenty years younger—”

  “Twenty-five years younger,” David said.

  “What kind of doctor is she? Whatever she treats, I want to get.” A wicked grin crossed Gabriel’s face. “I want it real bad so I can go see her.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  Gabriel was still drooling over Doc Washington when they turned the corner into the lunchroom—where David came to an abrupt halt.

  “There’s Mom and Archie. You did tell Mom that Harrington made me drive, didn’t you? She made me promise not to.”

  Without waiting for his response, Gabriel weaved through the tables to where Hope and Archie shared a table with a petite woman with platinum blond hair. A white German shepherd wearing a service animal vest rested next to her chair. The three women’s giggles reached David on the other side of the room.

  What could they possibly be laughing at? Bracing himself for turmoil, David made his way across the lunchroom.

  Hope stood up to take Gabriel into a warm hug and introduced him to her new friend. By the time David reached them, he was petting Molly, the German shepherd.

  “David,” Archie said, “look who we ran into! It’s Chelsea!”

  David brushed past her chair to grasp Hope’s hand and plant a warm kiss on her lips before turning to Chelsea Adams, his ex-fiancée. “Hello, Chelsea. What have you been up to?”

  “Not much really.” With a giggle, she stood to reveal her pregnant tummy and planted a kiss on David’s cheek.

  His open mouth was enough to prompt another round of giggles around the table. When he found his voice, he said, “You’ve been very busy.”

  “Chelsea and Seth got married almost a year ago,” Archie said.

  “Are you still in law school?” David asked her.

  “I’m going to take a few years off,” Chelsea rubbed her stomach. “We’ll get this little one off to school first.”

  “You look happy,” David said.

  “I’m very happy,” she said in a soft voice. “Dumping you for Seth was the smartest thing I’ve ever done.”

  David saw Gabriel waiting behind her. “Have you met my son, Gabriel?”

  “Your son?” Chelsea turned around to look up at the boy who stood several inches taller than she. “I guess I’m not the only one who’s been busy.” She shook his hand.

  “He’s Hope’s and mine,” David said.

  “We only just recently reconnected,” Hope explained.

  “I’m glad you’re together. Families need each other.” Seeing her husband, clad in a white doctor’s jacket, appear in the doorway, Chelsea anno
unced that her dinner date was there and gathered her things. “It was so great catching up with all of you again.”

  She grabbed Hope’s hand. “You’ve got an awesome guy here—not as awesome as my guy.” She winked up at David. “But he’s still awesome. Hang onto him.” With that, she waddled across the lunchroom with Molly by her side.

  At the door, the couple greeted each other with a warm hug and kiss. Then, with their arms wrapped around each other’s waists, they left.

  “She was sweet,” Hope said as David pulled the chair Chelsea had vacated around to sit next to her.

  “She used to be engaged to David,” Archie said. “They called it off like the day before the wedding.”

  Hope’s head jerked around to look at David, who stared at her with a far-away look in his eyes.

  “What happened?” Gabriel asked.

  David looked at him, then back at Hope. “She wasn’t your mother,” he said in a soft voice.

  “This has been one bizarre weekend,” Archie said into Mac’s bare back.

  In the steam shower back at Spencer Manor, Mac stood with his face up to the hot spray. He closed his eyes and twisted the facts of the double homicide from sixteen years before around to examine them from every angle.

  Gina Johansson’s wedding was two hours away. By the next morning, everyone would scatter to the four winds. Troy Underwood had confessed to killing Gina’s mother and new stepfather. Will Harrington said it had to be Underwood because the newlyweds were already dead when he arrived to murder them. Something didn’t add up. If Mac didn’t track down the real killer that night, then once again, he would slip away.

  This was his last chance.

  “David gave up women and then hours later he’s got Hope and a teenaged son.” Archie’s hot breath punctuated his back. She brushed her fingertips along his ribs and up to his chest. “They’ve clicked together like that. It’s like they’ve never been separated.”

  “Because they have always been family,” Mac said. “I think there’s more to genes than biology. They call to each other. I once read a case of a boy who had been put up for adoption when he was born. He grew up—went to work for a company and became good buddies with an older man. A year later, he invited his good friend to a family party at his house. His adoptive parents knew who his birth parents were because it had been a private adoption set up with the mother. They were flabbergasted. This older man was the adopted boy’s birth father.”

  Archie ducked under his arm to wrap her arms around him. “David could have gotten killed today pulling Gabriel out of that SUV while Harrington held a gun on him.”

  Her hot body felt good in his arms.

  “He insisted on doing it himself,” Mac said. “I think if it had been my son, I wouldn’t want to trust his life to anyone else.”

  “Yes, but you’ve been with your children since they were born.” Archie kissed his hot wet chest. “David hasn’t.”

  “Which adds a healthy dose of guilt to the whole parental love potion.”

  “But it wasn’t David’s fault that he hasn’t been in the picture.”

  “He knows that in his head,” Mac said. “Gabriel’s adopted father rejected him. Think of what that does to a young person. David has the added job of proving to this boy that he loves him unconditionally, which may mean making some supreme sacrifices on his part.”

  “Like taking a bullet for him.” She laid her head on his chest. “Don’t let me forget our wedding present. I know you paid for everything, but it just feels wrong for us to walk in without a physical gift.”

  Realizing that the pressure of Mac’s arms around her had lessened, she looked up at him. He pulled away from her, threw open the shower door, grabbed a towel and stepped out—leaving her alone in the shower with the hot spray pelting her body.

  “Was it something I said?” she asked.

  “Yes, it was.”

  Chapter Twenty

  The garden setting on the mountaintop screamed for a sunset wedding. The bride was scheduled to walk down the aisle when the sun started to set so that she and the groom could exchange vows as it dipped behind the mountains on the other side of the valley.

  The sun was low in the sky when Mac and Archie returned to the mountaintop. Confident that the murders had been solved, David had changed out of his police chief’s uniform into a suit. He planned to spend the evening celebrating a new chapter of his life with Hope, who had borrowed a cocktail dress from Archie. Gabriel remained at David’s home to dog sit Storm. The two of them were planning to watch a zombie movie on the wide screen television.

  At the back of the garden, David and Hector were congratulating themselves on a job well done in catching two murderers, when Mac arrived.

  “Got good news,” Hector said. “Carnes, the guard Harrington shot—he’s going to pull through.”

  “That is good news.” Mac patted Hector on the back. “I’ve got good news, too. I know who did it.”

  “We all know who did it,” David said. “We’ve got two confessions.”

  Mac craned his neck in search of a specific guest. “Underwood didn’t do it. We both admitted his confession was fishy.”

  “Are you saying we still have a murderer here at the Inn?” Hector asked.

  “I thought you caught all of them,” Jeff squawked so loud that a couple walking past stopped to look. “Unicorns. We have a terrible problem with unicorns running loose in the garden and we thought we’d caught them all. One seems to have escaped. But that’s okay. Unicorns are harmless. Nothing to be afraid of. It isn’t like we have a crazed killer running loose. That we don’t have. No, sirree! We don’t have any of them running around. Only loveable, huggable unicorns.”

  The husband of the couple hurried his wife away to take their seat far from the hotel manager.

  “You certainly put that couple’s nerves at ease,” Hector said.

  “Underwood didn’t kill Derringer,” David told Mac in a low voice, “but he killed Pratt and Polk. He gave us a detailed confession of how he and Derringer conspired together. She got him the clothes and key card and—”

  “Underwood made up the confession based on what he learned about the case from Derringer who’d gotten access to the crime scene before I had arrived. But there’s still facts that we can’t get around. He had an alibi for when the murders were committed. He was hooking up with Derringer in the supply closet—”

  “He and Derringer pretended to hook up so that Sanchez could supply them with an alibi.”

  “Speak of the devil.” Mac stepped into Rico Sanchez’s path.

  With his wife Rosa and Joan Underwood on either side of him, Rico Sanchez stopped.

  “Sanchez, I need to talk to you,” Mac said.

  “Do you plan on arresting him for something he didn’t do, too?” Joan asked in a voice meant to be heard by everyone. Seeing all heads turn in their direction, the corners of her lips curled. “You may be rich and powerful and think you can buy everything, but there’s one thing you can’t buy, Mac Faraday. Class.”

  Mac kept his attention focused on Rico Sanchez. “It will only take a minute, Sanchez.”

  The detective slipped his arms from their grasp and stepped aside—directing his two dates to take their seats without him.

  Aware of everyone watching them, Mac stepped close to Sanchez to talk to him in a low voice. The sun dipped lower in the sky while the two men spoke. David and Hector joined them.

  Acting as mother of the bride, Kassandra, elegant in a fuschia gown, and one of the groomsmen made their way to the back of the garden.

  Continuing to speak to Sanchez in a low voice, Mac directed his attention to Kassandra. David and Hector turned to regard her.

  Seeming to sense unwanted attention, Kassandra turned her head to look at them. Her eyes met each of theirs. Sucking in a deep breath, she pulled her atten
tion away, slipped her arm through that of the groomsman, and walked down the aisle.

  Dismissed, Rico Sanchez went to join his wife and Joan Underwood.

  “Well,” David whispered to Mac, “that was informative.”

  “Very.” With a nod of his head at the wedding guests still eyeing him, Mac slipped into the chair next to Archie.

  “You let me leave the house without our wedding present,” she whispered to him.

  “That’s okay. I’ll have a better one for the bride at the reception.”

  The edge of the sun touched the mountaintops across the valley—signaling the end of the day and the arrival of the bride.

  “Heads up,” Kassandra hissed into Joan Underwood’s ear before slipping into an empty chair at her table at the formal reception. “Mac Faraday just offered Rico Sanchez a deal.”

  The bride and groom were mingling with guests on their way to the head table. The room was abuzz with happy guests, many of whom were offering condolences to Joan on the arrest of her husband for murder. They admired Joan’s strong front in the face of what had to be a tragedy.

  “How am I ever going to face our children? Their father is a murderer,” she said while dabbing her eyes with the napkin she kept ready. She had just finished accepting the sympathies of one couple when Kassandra swooped in.

  Joan followed Kassandra’s line of sight to where Mac Faraday was talking to a man in a tailored suit that looked more expensive than that of the hotel owner. Upon seeing them peering his way, Mac turned his head. The man he was speaking to did likewise.

  “That’s a federal prosecutor from Washington,” Kassandra said.

  “What kind of deal would they be offering Rico?” Joan asked. “He did nothing wrong.”

  “He was the lookout at the supply closet while Troy went up through the ventilation to kill Brie and Trevor,” Kassandra said. “They could get him for being an accomplice unless he testifies against Troy.”

  “But Rico had nothing to do with it.”

  “How do you know that?” Kassandra asked before instantly waving her hand. “Doesn’t matter. You know that sexy chief of security with the accent that makes you melt into his arms.”