Real Murder (Lovers in Crime Mystery Book 2) (11 page)

Chapter Twelve

The answer to their question about a potential connection between Dolly Houseman and Mike Gardner came by noon the next day when Sheriff Curt Sawyer stopped by to deliver the latest development in their murder investigation.

As he usually did when he knew Tracy Thornton was in town, the sheriff managed to move the meeting into the kitchen where she served him the last of a breakfast casserole that she had prepared for brunch.

“There was no sign of a break in,” the sheriff said. “Miss Houseman wasn’t one to make many phone calls. Yet, in the last five weeks, there was a change in her call pattern.”

“What change?” Cameron asked.

“She made a handful of calls to East Liverpool City Hospital,” Sawyer said. “Tad is checking to see who she spoke to there. Could have been a friend who was in the hospital. We don’t know. Then, they stopped. Then, a call to a Weirton phone number, which is registered to a bar featuring exotic dancers. After that, her call pattern returned to normal.”

“She called a strip joint?” Joshua asked. “What was that about? Before yesterday, I would have said that that doesn’t sound anything like the Dolly I thought I knew.”

“That’s not the only peculiar thing. You’ll never guess who she made the sole beneficiary of her will,” he said to Joshua while Tracy poured him a mug of hot coffee.

“She had no family,” Joshua said. “Charity? Maybe the best little whorehouse in Texas.” He flashed a grin at Cameron who saw the humor in his quip.

“No.” Curt chuckled before dropping his bomb. “Hunter Gardner.” Smiling at the silence that dropped over the  kitchen, the sheriff took the first bite of his breakfast casserole.

Cameron noticed the pink that came to Tracy’s cheeks while she quickly glanced away to hide her blush. Tracy had to be wondering if she had told Joshua about walking in on her and Hunter the night before. Truthfully, it had slipped Cameron’s mind.

Tracy found her voice first. “Hunter barely knew  Ms. Houseman.”

“Are you sure about that?” the sheriff asked.

“Even if Hunter did know Dolly, he didn’t do it,” Joshua said. “He has red hair. The hair Irving yanked out of the killer’s head was dark brown.”

“You know when we catch the guy, his slimy lawyer is going to claim that his hair fell out someplace else in the neighborhood and Irving picked it up.” Remembering that Joshua was a lawyer, the sheriff added in his direction, “No offense, Josh.”

“None taken.”

“We can’t ignore the fact that now Hunter has motive for killing Dolly,” Cameron said.

Tracy stepped in her direction with the force of an enraged bear. “Hunter would never—”

“Forensics already cleared Hunter of the murder,” Curt said. “The blood on his shoes and clothes are consistent with his statement that he came onto the scene after the murder had been committed and got blood on his clothes while checking on Miss Houseman and your father.”

“Then why is Cameron saying Hunter has a motive?” Tracy asked.

“Because he does,” she replied. “It could have been a murder for hire. He wouldn’t have had to have been on the scene.”

With his arm out to separate them, Joshua stepped into the line of fire. “No one is trying to pin Ms. Houseman’s murder on anyone. But we would be negligent to ignore him benefiting from her death.”

“Oh, yeah,” Tracy said, “I can see Hunter killing a sweet elderly lady like Ms. Houseman for her drafty old house and a couple hundred dollars she has stashed in her cookie jar.”

“Actually,” Curt said over the rim of his coffee mug, “it’s a drafty old house, ten point two million dollars in trust, and a couple thousand dollars cash stashed in a cookie jar.” He shoved a fork full of the scrambled egg casserole mixed with cheese and hash browns into his mouth and uttered a moan of pleasure.

“Ten point two million?” Joshua gasped. “How?”

Tracy clutched her throat.

“That whorehouse was a very popular place,” Curt said.

“What whorehouse?” Tracy asked. “Was Ms. Houseman running a whorehouse across the street?”

“Not across the street,” Cameron answered.

“Did Hunter inherit a whorehouse?” Tracy asked. “I thought those were illegal. Is that—”

“Later,” Joshua said in a firm tone.

“According to Ms. Houseman’s lawyer,” Curt said, “Dolly had inherited a bundle from her father. Plus, her business brought in a ton of money. The house that she lives in has been without a mortgage for the last forty years or so.”

“She’s lived very frugally,” Joshua noted. “She doesn’t  even have a car. She walked into town for her groceries.”

“However, she did have a regular income,” Curt said. “Her social security was direct deposit, which she never touched. Also, according to the bank, she made monthly deposits  into her account, always in cash, like clockwork on the first of the month. Ten thousand dollars. Not a dollar more. Not a dollar less.”

“Ten thousand dollars in cash?” Cameron asked.

“Does Hunter know about the inheritance?” Tracy asked.

“Dolly’s lawyer called him first thing this morning while I was meeting with him,” Curt said. “It’s standard  operating procedure to find out who stood to gain from her death. Gardner was absolutely clueless about being in Houseman’s will. The lawyer will tell him in person when he meets with him later today. He has no idea what’s coming his way.”

“I can vouch for that,” Tracy said in a firm tone. “We both thought Ms. Houseman was a poor little old lady.”

“I know Hunter is no killer,” Curt said before turning to Joshua. “Our department is sponsoring him at the police academy. We did a full background check on him, including psych tests. He’s completely clean. If the academy even suspects Hunter of being a person of interest in this murder case, he’ll be kicked out of there so fast—” He snapped his fingers.

“So we need to keep this hush-hush,” Joshua said with a nod of his head.

“How do you keep a multi-million dollar inheritance hush-hush?” Cameron said. “This is big news.” With a sweep of her arm, she gestured at the modest red brick house across the street. “No one knew Dolly Houseman was the grand madam of the best little whorehouse in the valley.”

“Are you serious?” Tracy gasped. “That sweet little old lady was a madam?”

“And used to be your father’s babysitter,” the sheriff  added.

“Seriously?” Tracy stepped back and looked her father up and down.

“See?” Cameron pointed out. “The news media is going to eat this up.”

“I know,” Joshua said. “That’s why we aren’t going to let the news media know about it.” He turned in his seat to the sheriff who was scraping the bottom of the casserole pan with his fork in hopes of getting some last remnants of breakfast. “When is Gardner meeting with the lawyer?”

“Later on this afternoon,” Curt said. “Do you think we should be there?”

“Yes,” Joshua said. “I want to see his reaction to the news that he’s a multi-millionaire.”

As much as Cameron wanted to stay in on the conversation between Joshua and Sheriff Sawyer, she had other matters to contend with. When Tracy ran up the stairs to her room, Cameron was close behind.

She counted to ten before throwing open the bedroom door and catching Tracy on her cell phone. “It’s not a good idea to give Hunter a heads up about what he’s coming into.”

Tracy almost dropped her phone. “This murder is not your case.”

“Do you really want to put your father in the position of prosecuting your boyfriend?” Cameron cocked her head at her. “Does he even know about Hunter and you?”

“Not really.” She dropped the phone onto the bed. “In case you haven’t noticed, Dad is real protective of us, especially me.”

“Daddy’s little girl.” Cameron closed the door.

“Sarah is different,” Tracy said. “She refused to put up with it, but me …” She shrugged her shoulders. “I kind of like having my daddy watching over me, but then I didn’t want him scaring Hunter away. Then there was the matter of Hunter always wanting to take his dad’s place in the sheriff’s department. He didn’t want to get in because he was dating Joshua Thornton’s daughter.”

“So you two kept it a secret.”

“It wasn’t difficult,” Tracy said. “Hunter was in the Marines and did two tours in Iraq. I was up in New York  going to college. We rarely saw each other, which was great. We knew that, with being apart the way we were, if we  managed to feel the same way we did back when we first fell in love, we were meant to be together.”

Cameron placed her hands on her hips. “How long has this been going on between you two?”

Tracy cleared her throat. “Senior prom.” Her cheeks turned pink. She shrugged. “Hunter’s girlfriend broke up with him right before prom because she was cheating on him with my boyfriend. They suggested that we swap dates. It was no big deal because both Hunter and I kind of suspected that they were cheating on us anyway. We went as friends, but by the end of the evening … and we were both going away. Talk about timing.”

With a sigh, Cameron sat on the edge of the bed next to her. “Yeah, talk about timing. Your boyfriend is in a terrible position. He has the most to gain from Dolly Houseman’s murder.”

“He had no idea,” Tracy said. “Why would she leave it all to him? And where did all that money come from? What’s this about a whorehouse?”

“I’ll explain it all to you.” Cameron stood up. “In the meantime, my car is at the police station in Pennsylvania. Can you give me a ride? We can talk on the way.”

Tracy stood up. “Are you going to tell Dad about me and Hunter?”

“You mean tell your dad that his little princess is dating a murder suspect? That will go over real well.”

“He wasn’t a murder suspect when we started dating,” Tracy said.

“I don’t keep secrets from your dad,” Cameron said, “but I will give you a chance to tell him yourself.”

She picked up the phone. “I need to call Hunter.”

Cameron snatched the phone out of her hand. “After he meets with the lawyer. You’ll be hurting his chances of  clearing himself if you tell him about the money. Then he won’t be surprised, and Sawyer and your dad will think that he knew about it before the murder, which would give him  motive. The best way to help Hunter is to keep mum and drive me to Hookstown.”

“You’re supposed to be on medical leave,” Lieutenant Miles Dugan yelled across the squad room to Cameron from his office door when he saw her introducing Tracy to the desk sergeant.

“Good to see you, too, Chief,” Cameron called back to him while crossing the office to greet him. “I’d like you to meet my step-daughter, Tracy.”

Tracy clasped his hand in a firm grip. “Nice to meet you, Lieutenant.”

“Is this the step-daughter who’s in the CIA?” the lieutenant asked with a grin.

“Yes, I am.” Tracy returned the grin. “My specialty is international cuisine. You won’t believe all the secrets they taught me at the Culinary Institute of America. They don’t call themselves the CIA for nothing.”

“Maybe you can teach Gates here a thing or two,” he said.

“I doubt it,” Cameron said.

With a laugh, he told Tracy, “As you can see, she’s too hard headed to learn anything. She’s got two weeks sick leave after jumping off a two-story building, and where is she? Here nagging me about something.” He asked Cameron, “Why aren’t you home playing house?”

“Because I have a murder to investigate.”

“Figures,” he replied. “Whose?”

“Douglas O’Reilly,” she replied.

“Who’s Douglas O’Reilly?” Tracy asked.

“Cold case,” Cameron said.

“Suicide,” the lieutenant countered. “Every newbie detective we get in here gets a visit from O’Reilly’s mother claiming that her son was murdered. Haven’t seen her lately. She’s probably passed away. She has to be in her nineties if she’s still alive.”

“Has anyone bothered taking a look at the case?” Cameron asked, “or do they do like I did, just dismiss her as a poor old lady unable to accept reality?”

“If wasting your time investigating this non-murder will keep you out of my hair, Gates,” the lieutenant said, “knock yourself out.”

“I already did that,” Cameron said. “That’s why I’m on two weeks medical leave. Now give me the case file and we’ll be on our way.”

“Who is Douglas O’Reilly?” Tracy asked again once they were back in her car.

Cameron immediately opened up the file box and took out the case file to read while Tracy drove them toward the West Virginia state line.

“Your boyfriend’s grandfather.” Cameron flipped through the reports in the file in search of the medical examiner’s report.

“Huh?”

“Hunter has a very interesting family legacy,” Cameron said. “Did he tell you that his grandmother was a prostitute?”

“No,” Tracy gasped. “Seriously?”

Finding the report, Cameron scanned the contents while trying to explain to Tracy. “Ava Tucker was a desperate  sixteen-year-old girl. Her boyfriend went off to West Point. She decided to get herself knocked up when he came home  for a visit. Only things backfired. His future shot in the foot, he ended up dead. His car was found at the bottom of  Raccoon Creek … with him in it.”

“Just like Hunter’s dad.”

“Police closed the case as a suicide. His mother said it was murder, but no one would listen. Ava had the baby and gave him to her sister and her husband to raise as their own. That baby was Hunter’s dad. Ava went on to become a call girl at Dolly’s Gentleman’s Club. A few years later, she was murdered.”

“Hunter’s dad was investigating the murder of a prostitute when he disappeared,” Tracy said. “Do you think all of this is connected?”

“Maybe,” Cameron said. “I certainly think it warrants looking into. Your father will have a cow if you marry a man who comes from a long line of murder victims.”

“I said nothing about us getting married,” Tracy said.

“Yeah, right.” Cameron laughed. “Take me to the morgue in East Liverpool. I want Tad to read this autopsy report.”

“Do you see anything interesting in there?”

“Yeah,” Cameron said. “I need Tad to confirm it, but I think Mrs. O’Reilly’s maternal instincts were right.”

Attorney Vince Rudolph’s assistant had been directed to request that Joshua Thornton and Sheriff Curt Sawyer wait in the reception area of his small office while he met with Hunter Gardner.

In contrast to the type of lawyer that a multi-millionaire would go to, Vince Rudolph had a tiny office in an old three-story office building in downtown New Cumberland. The walls were thin and the windows were leaky enough for a breeze to feel like it was blowing through the dusty walls.

His office reminded Joshua of something out of a film noir.

“What would you do?” Curt asked in a low voice.

“About what?” Joshua asked before realizing Curt’s  question. “You mean if I found out that I was a inheriting a ton of money from someone I barely knew?”

“Yeah.”

A slow smile came to Joshua’s face. “I have a friend who that happened to. Mac Faraday. He lives in Deep Creek Lake. After twenty years of marriage, his wife left him. She didn’t like being married to an underpaid detective and decided to trade up. On the day their divorce became final, Mac inherited two hundred and seventy million dollars from his birth mother—”

“Yeah, that was big news a few years ago,” Curt said. “Turns out his mother was Robin Spencer—world famous author. She wrote those Mickey Forsythe movies.”

“Books,” Joshua corrected him. “The movies were made from the books.”

“You know Mickey Forsythe?”

“Mac Faraday.”

“But Mickey Forsythe was a homicide detective who came into a huge inheritance,” Curt said.

“I know,” Joshua said. “But Mickey Forsythe is a fictional character. Mac Faraday is a real guy who was a homicide  detective who came into a huge inheritance.” Seeing the  confusion on the sheriff’s face, he sighed. “It’s complicated. Point is, do you want to know what Mac Faraday does now that he’s rich and famous?”

“Living large I suppose?”

“He’s a detective with the police department in Spencer, Maryland.” Joshua shrugged his shoulders. “He doesn’t like golf, and he’s bad at tennis. He’s perfectly happy investigating murders. It’s who he is.”

“What would you do?”

“Pay for all of my kids’ colleges,” Joshua said, “and continue putting slimy killers behind bars. It’s who I am.”

“Is this some sort of sick joke?” They heard Hunter shout from inside the office.

“I think he just found out,” Curt said.

“I don’t understand,” Hunter yelled. “I don’t think I even met—you have to have the wrong guy. She must have left it to someone else. Why me? People don’t … how much?”

A sound of what appeared to be a scuffle came from inside the office before the door flew open and the attorney came out at a run. “Mary, can you get Mr. Gardner a glass of water please?” He rushed back inside.

Joshua and Curt followed him into the office to find Hunter sitting in a chair with his head between his knees.

“I think he’s in shock,” the lawyer whispered to them.

“This is a nightmare,” Hunter muttered.

“I think you misunderstood me,” Vince said. “It’s a good thing. Did you hear me say how many millions—”

Mary, the assistant, hurried in with a glass of water, which she handed to Hunter.

“You don’t understand,” Hunter said while taking the glass of water. “I found the body.”

“Actually, Josh found the body,” Curt said.

“But the murder victim is leaving everything to me,” Hunter said. “Do you know what that makes me? A person of interest. And Mr. Thornton is the county prosecutor. Like he’s going to let me marry his daughter when I’m a prime suspect in a murder.” He clutched his stomach. “Oh, this is terrible. This is a nightmare—an absolute nightmare.”

Joshua’s head was spinning. The last thing he had heard Hunter say was “marry his daughter.” After that, everything was jumbled. What?

“Wait a minute,” Curt said. “You’re dating Tracy?”

“How long have you been—” Joshua couldn’t even get the words out of his mouth. His throat felt tight.

Hunter shrugged. “A few years.”

“Years!”

“I’m going to be sick.”

“Now everyone stay calm,” Vince said. “Hunter, once you get over the shock—”

“No, I’m going to be sick.” Hunter jumped to his feet and ran for the bathroom. He slammed the door behind him.

“So am I.” Joshua sank down into a chair. “Where’s your other bathroom?”

“At least no one’s shooting at anyone,” Curt said.

“I would prefer that,” Vince said while watching Joshua put his head between his knees. “I only have one bathroom.” He took a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped the sweat from the top of his bald head.

“Think of it this way, Josh,” Curt said with a chuckle, “you’re not losing a daughter, you’re gaining a rich son.”

Joshua lifted his head. Slowly, he turned to Vince. “Are you absolutely certain Hunter had no idea?”

Vince pointed to the bathroom door. “My reaction was the same as his when Dolly came in here last month and said she wanted Hunter Gardner to get it all. I was like, ‘What’s a Hunter Gardner?’”

“That was just last month?” Joshua asked.

Vince nodded his head. “She didn’t have a will up until then. I had been bugging her for years to get one, but she said the state could take it because she didn’t have any family. Then suddenly, out of the blue, she came in and wanted a will, wanted it all to go to Hunter, and wanted the will done ASAP.”

Perplexed, Joshua shook his head.

“How is it that Dolly Houseman made so much money?” Curt Sawyer asked. “Ten thousand dollars a month is an awful lot of dough for an old woman who doesn’t appear to have any means of employment.”

“If she wasn’t a little old lady, we’d be assuming that it was money gained illegally,” Joshua said while directing his gaze at Vince.

Holding up his hands, Vince shook his head. “I have no idea where she got it and I didn’t want to know.”

“You had to suspect,” Curt said.

“Of course, I suspected,” Vince said. “My mother didn’t raise any dummies.”

“She had to have told you—” Joshua started to say.

“All she told me was that the money was a return from investments she and her father had made throughout the years.”

“Investments throughout the years.” Joshua looked up at Curt. “Tad told me that Dolly’s was known as a place for  movers and shakers in business and politics to have secret meetings.”

“Sounds like the makings for extortion to me,” Curt said.

“Dolly gave Cameron a bunch of stuff from the cathouse. I bet we can find something in there.” Joshua stood up as Hunter came out of the bathroom.

“Mr. Thornton,” Hunter said, “I guess you want to talk to me.”

“Not right now, kid,” Joshua said. “Congratulations on your inheritance.” He stopped at the door and turned back to him. “Oh, and you’re paying for the wedding.”