The Lady Who Cried Murder (A Mac Faraday Mystery) Read online

  “You know I can’t pay you back.”

  “I don’t expect you to.”

  “Like maybe by getting together with David?”

  Mac chuckled. “That’s Archie’s dream.” He shrugged. “Hey, if having you here in Spencer with David driving you and Molly around will help to spark a little romance, so be it.”

  “What if it doesn’t?”

  Mac could feel her light blue eyes boring into his face. “What if it does?”

  Standing up straight, she stuck out her chin. “I don’t need or want a man. It’s nothing against David. We’ve become good friends since all this happened with Riley. I’ve forgiven him for what happened back when we were in school—but that’s it—nothing more. We’re never going to be anything more than friends, and I wouldn’t be surprised if David felt the same way.”

  The lady doth protest too much. Mac lifted his head to look at her. Her ivory cheeks were bright pink. Her pale coloring made it very difficult for her to hide the blush that happened when David was around or the topic of him came up.

  Hearing the door open and shut, they both looked up in the direction of the doors leading in from the back deck.

  “Okay,” they heard David say into his cell phone, “I’ll be there in an hour.” Dressed in his uniform and jacket, David jogged up the steps from the drop-down dining room. He slipped his cell phone into its case on his utility belt. “Good morning, Chelsea. You look great this morning. I always thought you looked pretty in turquoise.”

  “Thank you.” Her smile contradicted her claim that she and David could never be more than friends.

  “I see you’re finally rested up from your trip,” David said to Mac while retrieving Chelsea’s coat from out of the closet.

  “It’s a wonder what fourteen hours of sleep can do.”

  “I’m going to run Chelsea in to Fleming’s office.” David held her coat open to help her slip into it. “Doc called with the autopsy results. She wants us to meet her at the morgue. Would you like to meet me there?”

  “Sure.” Mac sat up from where he was lounging. “What did Doc tell you?”

  David shook his head and shrugged at the same time. “She said it just keeps getting weirder and weirder.”

  “I hate being an imposition.” Chelsea buttoned up her coat.

  “You’re not.” David picked up her briefcase and held it out to her. “I like driving you and Molly.”

  “But you have to go to the morgue to find out about Khloe Everest’s murder.”

  “I’d have to do that anyway, whether I was taking you into work or not.” When she didn’t take the briefcase, David continued to hold it out to her.

  “Yeah,” Mac said. “He’d have to go to the morgue anyway.”

  “How about if after the morgue I swing back over to take you to lunch?” David offered while shaking the briefcase in hopes that she would notice it.

  She gazed at him without answering. Mac could see her yearning to say yes, but holding back.

  “My treat,” David added.

  She opened her mouth to answer, but fear refused to let her form the words.

  “Think about it on the way.” He took the strap of the briefcase and draped it over her shoulder. He then took her hand and wrapped her fingers around the strap and held them there until she took hold of it. “There,” he said after observing that the case was secure. “That will work.” Taking her by the arm, he ushered her to the door. “Come along, Molly.”

  Reminded of her duty as Chelsea’s service dog, Molly stopped licking Gnarly’s ears to scurry to her mistress’s side and go out the door with her. It was only because David quickly closed the door that Gnarly didn’t follow them. Unable to accompany the white German shepherd, Gnarly ran to the window and jumped up to place his front paws on the sill and watch them leave in David’s cruiser.

  “Don’t you feel ashamed, lying here warming yourself by the fire while your girlfriend goes off to work?” Mac joked.

  As if to respond to him, Gnarly turned his head to look back at Mac from over his shoulder.

  “No more than you do when your girlfriend stays up working until after midnight while you’re sawing logs in a nice warm bed,” a feminine voice replied from the stairs behind him.

  Mac sat up to respond only to be pulled back by two soft hands on his shoulders. Once he had fallen back, she further restrained him by wrapping her arms around his shoulders. Her rosy scent surrounded him before she laid a kiss on his cheek next to his ear. “Good morning, handsome.”

  He took her hands into his. “Good morning, my love. Did you make headway on that book before you came to bed?”

  “Some. This one is brutal. Talk about butchering the English language.”

  “Why did the publisher accept it if it’s so bad?”

  Archie smiled. “Because she’s a has-been teenybopper singer. The publisher is betting that her fans read and will buy the book even if it is trash.” She sighed. “Publishing isn’t like it was back when your mother started out. Then publishers cared about great literature. Now it’s only a business focused on the bottom line.”

  Keeping his hand in hers, she came around the sofa to sit next to his legs. He saw that she was naked under her bathrobe. “Speaking of butchers…I was really out of it last night, so I didn’t catch everything you were telling me about Khloe Everest getting murdered. Her body was dismembered?”

  Mac nodded his head. “And I’ve got to go shower and leave. Doc Washington finished the autopsy.” He swung his legs off the sofa and put on his slippers.

  “Do you think Khloe knew her killer?”

  “Hard to say right now,” Mac said. “No sign of a break in. But then, people like Khloe…”

  “I did a look at her social media sites before I went to bed last night,” she said. “Khloe was making a big deal that she had some big news that she was going to drop in her interview with E-Entertainment. She referred to it as a ‘bomb.’”

  “Did she drop any hints about what made up this bomb?”

  Archie shook her head. “Not a clue. All she said was that it was going to make a big blast.”

  Mac gazed at her. “Almost sounds like keeping her from making that announcement could be the motive for her murder.”

  “That’s what I thought.”

  He leaned over to press his forehead against her. “How about doing me a favor?”

  “You want me to dig deeper into Khloe’s social media sites and the media to see if I can figure out what her news could have been.”

  He kissed her. “You’re my girl.”

  “I know.” She grinned.

  Mac stood up, only to have her pull him back down onto the sofa. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders. She pressed her lips against his mouth. “You know you’re going to owe me for this.”

  He stroked her cheek and drew his fingertip down her throat to her chest. “Have you ever known me not to pay up?”

  Their lips were barely touching. “Never.”

  “Then what’s the problem?”

  She brushed her fingers down his chest to his stomach. “I think this time I want you to pay up front.” Grasping the belt of his bathrobe, she pulled him in closer.

  Taking in a deep breath, Mac murmured, “I guess I can be a little late.”

  “You don’t have to walk me in,” Chelsea told David while he walked her into the county prosecutor’s office in Oakland.

  “I don’t have to, but I want to.” David held the door open for her and Molly. Once inside the office, Chelsea took off Molly’s leash. The white German shepherd curled up in her bed in the corner behind Chelsea’s desk.

  David set Chelsea’s briefcase on her desk. Seeing the county prosecutor in his office, he called out, “Good morning, Ben.”

  “David! Morning!” Ben got up from behind his desk and rushed out of the office. His pace told David that he wanted to talk to him before he had a chance to leave. “What’s this I hear about Khloe Everest getting murdered yesterd
ay?” Spotting his assistant, he greeted her with a nod of his head. “Nice to see you, Chelsea.”

  Seeing the prosecutor dressed in khaki slacks and a blue sweater, the police chief surmised he didn’t have any court appearances scheduled for the day. “Khloe wasn’t murdered yesterday,” David said. “She was murder five days ago. I found her body yesterday.”

  “Bogie told me that her house appeared to have been searched.” Ben folded his arms across his chest. His furrowed brow put a crease in his forehead. His blue bloodlines and privileged upbringing had taught him how to handle difficult situations with grace. A furrowed eyebrow on Ben’s face was uncommon.

  “I think so,” David said. “It’s hard to say because the place was trashed anyway.”

  “Too bad,” Ben said. “Ed Willingham, Florence’s attorney, is coming in from Washington this morning. Can we meet with you this afternoon?”

  “What about?”

  “We may have some information that will help you with the case.”

  “I’ll appreciate anything you can give me.” David refrained from giving into his curiosity and asking for that information up front.

  “Now the bad news.” A playful curl came to Ben’s lips before he bent over to pet Molly.

  “Of course you would have bad news.” David shot a glanced at Chelsea who had taken her seat behind her desk.

  “Bevis Palazzi is revving up to stick his nose into your case,” Ben said, “and he’s got enough juice that he may be able to do it.”

  “Bevis Palazzi as in Senator Harry Palazzi?” Chelsea asked.

  “Bevis was friends with Khloe,” David said. “He’s also an arrogant jerk.”

  “Keep this under your hats,” Ben said. “The governor is planning to retire at the end of this term. He hasn’t announced it yet. Since it seems like Senator Palazzi is never going to retire, Bevis decided to start his political career as governor. He’s using whatever means necessary to get his name in the headlines, and how better than by playing the victim’s advocate for his dead friend? Since his father is a United States Senator, he is not without influence.”

  “So I may be forced to have him under foot like a bad piece of chewing gum,” David said.

  “Exactly,” Ben said. “Now here’s the good news.”

  “What? You have some good news?”

  “The governor is not Bevis’ biggest fan,” Ben said. “He’s a friend of mine and Catherine’s. Off the record, he calls Bevis a degenerate and is not thrilled with his party grooming him to take over as governor. He’s told me that it’s enough to make him want to not retire. That’s pretty bad. He only supports Bevis publicly because some big backers in his party think Bevis can carry on his father’s legacy. If that pain in the butt gets too bad, give me a call and I’ll ask the governor to reel him in.”

  “That’s why I have you on speed dial.”

  With a smile at Chelsea and David, Ben went back into his office.

  David leaned over her chair to whisper into her ear. “What’s your answer about lunch?”

  In spite of her effort to prevent it, a coy smile came to her lips. “It sounds like your day is already planned.”

  “I can fit you in,” he replied. “I’ll swing by before going back to Spencer after meeting with Doc.”

  “You don’t give up.” She watched his back on his way out the door.

  “Never.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  “Sorry I’m late.” Mac practically ran through the door in his rush into the medical examiner’s office. He found David and Dr. Washington standing over the examination table that was covered with a white sheet.

  “No problem,” David said.

  “Are you okay?” Dr. Washington asked Mac with concern. “You look flushed.”

  Mac ignored David’s grin. “I guess I had the heater up too high in the car when I was running late.”

  “Oh, is that all?” Her lips curled into a smirk. “I thought it was something a little more intimate.”

  While David burst out laughing, Mac said, “Can we get on with this?”

  The medical examiner turned serious. “Cause of death was stabbing. I counted forty-six stab wounds with the concentration in her stomach and some strikes in her chest.”

  “Was there any sign of sexual assault?” David asked.

  “You had to ask me that.” The medical examiner looked at him for a moment before shrugging her shoulders. “Can’t be conclusive because of the extent of the mutilation. I did find semen—enough for a DNA sample. However, the bruising and tearing could be due to the attack that resulted in her murder, and not rape. The sexual activity could have been completely consensual.”

  “And then things went bad afterwards,” Mac said.

  “In addition to the dismemberment, he gutted her from the ribcage down to the pelvis and took her uterus.”

  “Her what?” David asked.

  “Uterus,” Doc Washington repeated the word. “Her female organ.”

  While David gazed at her in shock, Mac asked, “Could she have been pregnant? Archie said Khloe was making a big deal on her social media sites about a huge announcement in that interview. Maybe she was going to announce that she was pregnant, and the father wanted to stop that. So he killed her and took the uterus with the fetus.”

  “That’s sick,” David said.

  “We already know our killer’s sick,” Mac said.

  The medical examiner was shaking her head. “According to the blood tests, she wasn’t pregnant.”

  “Does it look to you like the killer had medical training?” Mac asked her. “Did he know what he was doing when cutting her?”

  “No,” she said with a firm shake of her head. “The cuts were frenzied. Sloppy. Not precise. I saw a lot of rage in them. He basically hacked out the uterus when he took it.”

  David asked both the seasoned detective and medical examiner, “Have you ever seen something like this before? A killer who guts the woman and takes the uterus?”

  Mac was staring down at the sheet under which Khloe Everest’s dismembered body rested. “I have seen similar cases. Usually it’s a man who hates women, plain and simple. I once caught a killer who didn’t care who the woman was—he would hunt them like animals and butcher them because he simply hated their sex.” He grinned. “But we got this guy’s DNA from his semen. Is it in the system?”

  She smiled. “Oh yes.”

  “Great,” Mac said. “Then this can be an easy case.”

  “No, not that easy,” she said. “The same DNA was found on two other bodies listed in the database, but the donor has never been identified.”

  “That means this guy has killed two other women,” Mac said.

  “The first one is Amber Houston.”

  “Where do I know that name from?” David asked.

  “She disappeared the month before Khloe staged her abduction,” Mac said. “Her body was found in a garbage bag in a motel dumpster.”

  “Like Khloe, her body was dismembered, and her uterus taken,” the doctor said. “There’s no way this is a copycat, because the dismemberment and uterus were never made public.”

  “So it’s the same guy,” Mac said. “The DNA matched for a third victim?”

  “Los Angeles,” she said. “Twenty months ago. Tiffany Blanchard. She was a model. Her body was found in a garbage bag dumped over a hillside on the beach. Dismembered with her uterus missing. In all three cases, the killer had sexual relations with the woman before stabbing her to death, mutilating and dismembering her bodies, and then taking her uterus.”

  “We have a serial killer,” David said.

  “Yep,” Mac said, “the worst kind.”

  In the upscale resort town of Spencer, Maryland, where many of the town’s residents were listed in “Who’s Who,” the small police station resembled a sports club. Its fleet of police cruisers was top-of-the-line SUVs painted black with gold lettering on the side that read “SPENCER POLICE.” Located along the shore of Deep Creek La
ke, the log building that was home to the police department sported a dock with a dozen jet skis and four speed boats. For patrolling the deep woods and up the mountains trails, they had eight ATVs. Like the cruisers, all of the vehicles were black with gold trim.

  The conference with Ben Fleming and Ed Willingham, the attorney for Khloe’s late mother, turned into a luncheon meeting. Ben brought Chelsea along to take notes during their meeting. Whether she liked it or not, she was eating lunch with David.

  They met in David’s office, which was located on the second floor with a view of the lake. Ben had ordered Chinese takeout from the one restaurant that dealt with it on the lake. While dealing out the food around the conference table, Ed Willingham, a prestigious lawyer and senior partner of one of the largest law firms in the Washington, DC, area, tried to talk business to Mac about a producer wanting to purchase the movie rights for Robin Spencer’s last three Mickey Forsythe books.

  In spite of the obscene amount of money the producer was offering, Mac balked. “No cast approval, no rights.”

  “He’s not going to let you have say in the casting of the movie.” It was difficult to tell if Ed thought, or rather hoped, that Mac was joking in his request.

  “Mickey Forsythe was my mother’s creation,” Mac explained. “I’m not going to have his image tarnished by the casting of some degenerate to play him on the screen, or maybe by someone who decides to make him more sensitive or more like a boob.”

  “Or maybe select a neutered German shepherd to play Diablo,” David said.

  “That’s right,” Mac agreed. “Gnarly would be in a snit for a year if that happened. Have you ever seen Gnarly when he was in a snit about something?”

  “It’s not pretty,” David said.

  Mac pressed the top of his finger against the tabletop. “No cast approval, no rights. That’s final.”

  “I guess these movies won’t get made,” Ed said in a firm tone, as if the decision had been his.

  Mac picked up an egg roll with a shrug of his shoulders. “Fine with me.”