Blast from the Past (A Mac Faraday Mystery) (7 page)

Alan pointed a finger at the federal agent while saying, “I’m telling you…it doesn’t take a brain surgeon to figure out what happened and who did it. It was that couple who was here and then left. They must have worked for Bonito.”

Seeing David whirl around while pressing his radio to his ear, Mac excused himself to join him. The thought of Archie falling victim to the crime spree that had invaded Spencer gripped his heart. He tugged on David’s sleeve to get his attention. “What’s going on?”

“They have a DB at a bed and breakfast on Lakeshore Drive.”

“Possible homicide?”

“Maybe accidental,” David said. “Thing is, I can’t leave this.” He gestured at the two dead bodies on the floor in the middle of the café.

“Finnegan took the café owner and her daughter to Spencer Manor,” Mac said, “and Bogie went with them.”

“He’s the only other one on the force with experience in possible homicides.” David cocked his head at him and narrowed his eyes. “What are you not telling me?”

“Those assassins outside may very well not have been coming after Cruze.”

David cursed.

His radio crackled. “Chief,” the operator called out. “Who do you want me to send? Fletcher?”

Mac tapped David on the shoulder. Once he had his attention, he tapped his fingers against his own chest. “I can go. You just told Richardson that I’m on contract with the Spenser police. I’ve investigated hundreds of murders, and I’m still certified by the state as an investigator. I can handle one little DB at a B and B.”

David looked Mac up and down and noticed that he was still in his running sweats. After a heavy sigh, he told him, “Okay. But you can’t go like that. Take my cruiser, swing by the station, and take a quick shower. I have an extra set of clothes in my locker. They’ll fit you. I’ll have Tonya give you a badge and service weapon.”

Chapter Eleven

“Gnarly, there you are.” Archie came out onto the front porch to greet Bogie’s cruiser when it rolled through the Spencer Manor entrance. Once again, she was dressed in her soft gray suit for an outing at the Spencer Inn after dropping Gnarly off at the Doggie Hut. When she saw the German shepherd, covered in blood, jump out through the cruiser’s open window, she shrieked. “What happened to you?”

“He took down a hit man,” Bogie told her before opening the rear door to let his other passengers out. “You don’t want to see how the other guy looks.”

“Mac—” she gasped.

“Mac’s fine,” Bogie said. “But there’s a mess at the Dockside Café. Tommy Cruze is dead.”

Archie sighed with relief.

“That’s the good news,” Bogie said. “The bad news is that since Gnarly took out one of the dead hit men, he’s now covered with evidence. The feds are going to be coming out here to process him. That means you have to cancel his appointment with Misty.”

“Do you know how hard it is to get an appointment with Misty?” Archie’s hands were on her hips. “I’m supposed to leave him like
this
…”

Hanging his head like a guilty child, Gnarly sat before her. 

“Would it make you feel better if I went back to the Dockside and killed Tommy Cruze a second time?” Bogie offered.

“It’s not me I’m concerned about. It’s Gnarly.” She pointed to the dog, who had lain down. With a long, mournful whine, he rested his head on her pumps. “Look at him. He’s devastated. He loves Misty. You should see him when he leaves the Doggie Hut after one of her deep body massages. She makes him feel so handsome.” She stomped one of her feet. “Oh, I hate Tommy Cruze for doing this to Gnarly. If he was still alive I’d go shoot him myself.”

“I’d hate to be Cruze right now.” The deputy chief went into the house.

After digesting that bad news, Archie noticed Randi Finnegan and two new faces.

“More refugees from the mob,” Randi said. “This is Leah Juliano and her daughter, Sari.” She went on to explain that they had been placed in the area two years earlier after being put in the program.

“Well, hello, Sari.” Archie knelt down by the little girl who had squirmed out of her mother’s arms and was showing Gnarly her stuffed dog. “You’re a beautiful little girl. How old are you?”

Sari’s eyes met Archie’s for only a moment before she turned her attention back to Gnarly.

“Sari doesn’t talk,” Leah said.

“That’s too bad.” Archie rose to her feet. “Why not?”

“She just stopped talking one day.” Leah looked up and around at the stone and cedar mansion. “Is this your house?”

“I live here,” Archie said. “It’s complicated.”

“Sleeping with the big man for money, huh?” Leah laughed. “That’s not complicated. It’s the way of the world.”

Giving up on trying to like the woman Randi had brought to Spencer Manor, Archie asked, “What would be the odds of a witness hiding from the mob having a mob hit go down in her establishment? Who would have thought?”

“I never saw any of those people before in my life,” Leah said forcibly.

“I wasn’t saying—” Archie said by way of an apology.

“Come, Sari.” The café owner pulled her daughter by the arm up to her feet. “We need to wash your hands. That dog is filthy.” Without invitation, Leah dragged her daughter inside the house.

With an apology in her eyes, Randi nodded at Archie. “I think it’s the culture clash. Leah can be—”

“Rude.” Archie added, “It’s not culture. It’s lack of manners.”

“She’ll be relocated within two days,” Randi said. “With so many mob figures in the area now, I’m afraid of taking her to the Spencer Inn or any public place.”

“She and her daughter can stay,” Archie said.

“Thank you, Archie,” Randy said. “I knew I could count on you. You’re such a class act.”

“I’m not doing it for her,” Archie said. “It’s for her daughter.” She whirled around on her heels and went inside to call Misty to beg for another chance for Gnarly.

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. Located along the shore of Deep Creek Lake, the log building that was home to the police department sported a dock with a dozen jet skis and four speed boats. Its fleet of police cruisers was top of the line SUVs painted black with gold lettering on the side that read
“SPENCER POLICE”
. For patrolling the deep woods and mountain trails, they had eight ATVs. Like the cruisers, all of the vehicles were black with gold trim.

David was on the mark when he surmised his clothes would fit his older half-brother. After a quick shower in the police chief’s private bathroom on the top floor at the station, Mac slipped into a pair of dress slacks, a button-down shirt, and a blue sports jacket that he had found in David’s locker. Mac chuckled when he discovered that David’s shoes, however, were one size too small. That meant he had to wear his worn running shoes.

Tonya, the desk sergeant, smiled up at him when he came downstairs. “My, my. If you had blond hair, I would have thought you were the chief.”

Knowing that she was unaware of the familial relationship he shared with David, Mac only grinned.

Tonya had lived on the lake her whole life. Many suspected that the long hours she put in at the station were an excuse to not go home, to where two of her three grown children had returned with their offspring after a short time spent in the outside world.

“Gnarly’s not riding shotgun with you on this case?” Tonya was a huge fan of every dog.  Sometimes, Mac felt like she was simply going through the paces while making small talk until they arrived upon the topic of Gnarly and his latest escapades. She had three dogs of her own that she doted on more than her kids. The dogs were more self-sufficient.

“Not this time,” Mac answered.

“Doc Washington is meeting you at the scene.” She handed him a pen to sign for his gold police shield, that of a detective, and police-issued gun, a Colt semi-automatic. “So what’s the word with you and your mother’s lovely assistant?”

Mac paused with the pen an inch from the paper. His eyes met Tonya’s. She arched an eyebrow in his direction. In the two years he had known her, he had never known the motherly desk sergeant to miss a thing.

“Tommy Cruze is dead,” Mac said. “That made our day.”

“Made a lot of people’s day.” She lowered her voice. “Now that the contract on Archie has most likely gone away, is she moving back into the guest cottage or is she going to …” She cast him a naughty smile.

“We’ll see.” He felt his cheeks warm.

“Oh, I should have known,” Tonya laughed.  “You’re exactly like the chief. Never kiss and tell. Though Bogie did tell me not only did Archie move into the Spencer Manor’s main house, but also that she moved into your bedroom, which only has one bed.”

Mac joined in her laughter. “The fact that Archie and I are very close was never any secret.”

“Well, I’ll tell you this,” she tapped him on the chest to make her point, “I’m expecting a wedding invitation when you two have your big, swanky social event of the year at the Spencer Inn in the main ballroom. I’ll even buy a dress for the occasion.”

“Don’t worry. Every officer on the force will get an invitation, and we’ll expect them all to come.”

Before Mac realized what he had said, Tonya let out a whoop. “I knew it!” She jumped back and pointed at him. “You did ask her, and she said yes! I could tell when you walked in that you had a glow about you. Tell me how you asked her. Did you get down on one knee? Did she cry?”

Suddenly overwhelmed with tears of joy, she rushed around her desk to take Mac into a bear hug. As soon as she regained her voice, she returned to firing off questions about the proposal: when, where, and how big will the diamond be.

While she was firing off questions, Mac shushed her. Finally, she quieted down so he could tell her, “I haven’t told David yet. So don’t tell anyone.”

“He’ll be happy,” she replied with confusion. “Why wouldn’t you tell him?”

“I haven’t had a chance,” Mac said. “Besides, he may feel like he’s intruding on us living at the manor.”

“I didn’t think about that,” she said. “Once he sells his house, he’ll be able to move into a place of his own.”

“The way the market is, and as old as that house is, it may be forever before he can sell it,” Mac said. “I’m going to offer him the guest cottage.”

“Doesn’t Archie use the guest cottage for her office?” Tonya asked.

Mac clipped the police shield to his belt. “She can use the study, where Robin used to write her books.” Seeing tears in Tonya’s eyes, he feared that she would spill the beans before he had a chance to personally tell David. “Remember, this is our secret. I don’t want David to hear this through the grapevine. I want him to hear it from me.”

“Is Gnarly going to give Archie away?” Tonya wiped a tear from her eye. “He does have to be in the wedding. You can’t not let Gnarly take part in it.”

“There’s someone else I need to break the news to.”

Vacation rentals, ranging from cozy and rustic to luxurious estate living, lined the shore of Deep Creek Lake. There’s something for everyone.

Some homeowners converted their estate homes into bed and breakfasts to help ease the financial burden of owning a home at such an exclusive address. For some, it was the only way they could own on Deep Creek Lake. Other homeowners enjoyed meeting new people from all walks of life in the pleasant setting. In exchange for a room with a view of the lake, the guest would share a filling breakfast with the homeowner, who, intimate with the goings on, could advise where, and where not, to go.

Located along a quiet cove in the Spencer corner of the lake, the Skeltner Cove Bed and Breakfast was a sprawling, three-story log home. A private dock and beach were among the amenities it offered its guests. The county medical examiner’s van was parked in the road at the end of the wooden plank walkway.

When Mac pulled David’s cruiser into the driveway, he saw that the sign for the bed and breakfast had a notice hanging from a hook underneath it that read
“NO VACANCIES”
.

On his way inside, he paused to admire the view of the lake from the porch. The bridge was a little over two miles away. Across the water, the Dockside Café was so close that he could make out the flashing lights from the emergency vehicles.

“Great view, huh?” a woman’s voice startled Mac out of his focus on the scene across the way. Before he turned around, he placed the voice. It was Dr. Dora Washington, the medical examiner, who had come out of the house while his back was turned. “I see David had to call in his reserves.”

As always, Mac was struck by her flawless figure and blue-black hair that she always wore in a silky ponytail that spilled down to the middle of her back. She looked more like she belonged on the cover of a fashion magazine than cutting up dead people in the morgue.

When he had first met the medical examiner, after getting beyond her physical beauty, Mac was struck by how brilliantly smart she was. Dr. Washington had nailed Mac and David’s sibling relationship by their second meeting based purely on their eye color, cheekbones, and jaw-line. During a consultation in her office, she bluntly asked David for confirmation of her assessment. She had the class to keep that information to herself.

“Not your average tranquil lakeside living.” Mac gestured to the inside of the house. “Are you finished doing your thing?”

“Yes. Now I’m waiting for you,” she said. “I told them not to move the body until you got a look at her.” The corner of her lip curled into a smirk. “It will seem like old times for you.”

“Homicide?”

She flipped her ponytail back over her shoulder. “I don’t make that call until I open ‘em up.” She turned around to head back inside.

Mac followed her. “And I don’t make it until I take a look at the scene and speak to the witnesses.”

After stepping across the threshold, she turned left into a foyer stairwell. The dead woman was still resting in a heap at the bottom of the stairs with her feet and legs up above her head. The blood splatters on the hardwood steps and along the wall in the long stairwell were telling. Out of respect, the medical examiner had covered her with a white sheet.

After slipping on his evidence gloves, Mac squatted down next to the body and lifted the sheet to examine her.

She resembled a discarded rag doll. Her pink nightgown was worn and faded. Her hair was thin with bald patches on her scalp. Her arms were withered and thin to resemble skin draped over bones.

“She’s been dead a little over an hour,” Dora said while he peered at the dead woman from every angle.  “I pinpoint the time of death at between six-forty-five and seven o’clock. It looks like she bounced down the stairs with her head hitting every step the whole way down.” The doctor was not exaggerating. Her face and head were bloody and scarred.

Mac cocked his head while looking at the scrapes and scratches on her thin arms.
Defense wounds.

“Who is she?” He removed the paper bag that Dr. Washington had encased her hands in to preserve evidence.  Strands of dark hair were embedded under her fingernails along with black fiber.

“Mary Catherine Skeltner,” she said. “Half of the couple that own this place. Husband is back in the kitchen. I told him to wait for you to get his statement.”

“She put up a fight before going down the stairs.” Mac showed the medical examiner her hands.

“Very good.” She smiled down at him. “It must be in the genes.”

They heard hushed voices and footsteps coming from the dining room into the foyer.  Swiftly, he put the bag back on her hand and sealed it with the rubber band.

“I saw the cruiser pulling in,” the male voice was saying as he approached the foyer from behind Mac. “Now that the police detective is here, I’m hoping that this can be taken care of as quickly and painlessly as possible.”

“Russell Skeltner,” Dora said, “I’d like you to meet Mac Faraday. He’s the detective working for the Spencer police department.”

Mac rose to his feet.

“As you can see, Detective Faraday,” the husband said, “it’s pretty clear what happened. My wife slipped and fell down the stairs. Accidental death.”

“An investigation needs to be conducted before that decision can be made.” When Mac turned around, he recognized the blue running suit and Toronto Bluejay’s ball cap. It was the jogger from the Dockside Café. Mac offered his hand. “We meet again.”

“Really?” Russell Skeltner shook his head. “I’m afraid—”

“Coffee shop this morning,” Mac reminded him.

A wide grin crossed Russell Skeltner’s face. “The runner with the dog. German shepherd. He stole your breakfast.”

“Actually, he didn’t steal it. I bought it for him.”

“That’s not how it looked—”

Tired of his attitude and the smirk on Dora’s face at the reference of the infamous Gnarly winning yet again, Mac nodded in the direction of the dead woman lying at their feet. “What happened here?”

A somber expression filled Skeltner’s face. “My wife was killed falling down the stairs.”

“You seem less than upset about it,” Mac noted.

Russell Skeltner sucked in a deep breath and folded his arms across his chest. “Mary Catherine has been sick for years. Cancer. They did everything to save her. Before she came down with it, she was a vibrant woman. Athletic. We’d go running together every day. After zapping her with everything imaginable, they saved her life, but it ended up being a life not worth living.” He pointed up the staircase. “You can see for yourself. She was taking thirty different pills a day. For the last two years, she has been bedridden and spaced out—sleeping twenty hours a day.”

He ran his hand over the front of his athletic suit. “This morning I went running, like I do every day. Before I left, I set a glass of juice on her bed stand so she could wash down her pills when she woke up. When I came home an hour later, I found this, and a spilt glass of juice upstairs.”