Shades of Murder (The Mac Faraday Mysteries) (13 page)

“It’s a cat’s life,” the smoker that had called her over said.

The men wanted all the details about the detective’s chase of the burglary suspect, which she gave them in great detail. A talented story-teller, Cameron never failed to entertain them when they asked for the low down on one of her busts. Her audience, consisting of desk-bound support staff, loved to hear about the action from out in the field.

While Cameron told the story, Priscilla quietly puffed away on her cigarette. As soon as she finished, she tossed the butt into the bucket of sand that acted as the community ash tray, gave a short, “Later,” and hurried for the door.

“You sold me out,” Cameron said in a low voice when she caught up with her. She didn’t say it as an emotional accusation, but rather a statement of fact.

Priscilla shot over her shoulder. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Cameron grabbed her by the elbow to whirl her around. “It’s all in the eye contact, sweetheart. You may be able to charm everyone here at the station with your soft voice and regal baring, which was what got you promoted to the senior tech; but I’ve learned how to look beyond to glitz to see what drives someone’s heart. That’s right, baby. I’ve known what you really are from day one. You’re a manipulative narcissist that couldn’t see beyond your own agenda even if your life depended on it.”

Priscilla’s eyes narrowed to slits. Through clinched jaws, she asked, “If you really believed that, then why did you ask me to run Jane Doe’s fingerprints on the sly?”

“Because I needed them run,” Cameron said. “I
hoped
you wouldn’t rat me out, but actually I expected you to do it. It’s the same way with Irving. Whenever I forget to take out the garbage before going to bed, I hope Irving won’t get into it; but I’m not surprised when he does.” She let out a laugh. “You and Irving are very much alike. You’re both sneaky and focused only on what’s going to serve you the best. Only Irving is charming about it.”

“I don’t need to take this.” Priscilla tried to turn away, but Cameron had her by the wrist.

“What was Sherry’s reaction?”

Priscilla smirked. “Surprisingly delighted.”

“Delighted?”

“Giddy even,” Priscilla said. “She asked me if I knew how much money Neal Hathaway had. I could see the wheels turning in her head. By the time she was done with her cigarette, she was almost at a run when she went back inside.” Her voice softened when she offered up a consolation. “She’s not waiting for you, though. So, you’re safe ... for now.”

“Where is she?” Cameron asked.

“Gone,” she answered with a shrug of her shoulders while tucking the pack of cigarettes down into the case and zipping it shut. “She left about twenty minutes ago when I came out for a smoke.”

Cameron was torn between relief that she didn’t need to face Sherry and concern that she wasn’t there. Sherry Bixby always brought her lunch. She never went out except for office events. Sometimes, she would work through her noon break so that she could leave an hour early for happy hour at one of the bars.

Something’s definitely up. I can feel it.

Cameron was still in deep thought when Priscilla jerked her arm out of her grasp. “If you will excuse me, I have to go back into work. Next time you need a favor, don’t ask.” She shot over her shoulder back at the detective. “Take a shower. You smell like plant fertilizer.”

Cameron was playing all the possible scenarios in her head when Priscilla and her smoking companions went inside. A new shift of smokers came out and passed her on their way to the corner.

She’s going to muscle her way into my case. She’s probably over at Hathaway’s place right now interrogating him.

“You’re not going to eat the last bite of that sandwich, are you?” Archie’s tone was as accusatory as the glint in Gnarly’s eyes staring at the end of the Italian sausage sandwich making its way to Mac’s mouth.

Today, a sailing class from the yacht club, located on the next inlet over, was bouncing on the water at the end of Spencer Point. While dining in the shade of the deck umbrella, they watched the students drift along in their brightly colored vessels.

Mac lowered the sandwich. “I was planning to. Why? Did you slip something in it?”

Gnarly uttered a whine mixed with a groan. Archie glanced from Mac to the German Shepherd who inched in closer. The expression in his brown eyes wasn’t pleading as much as it was expectation.

“That’s why he acts up,” Mac said, “because he gets what he wants. If we didn’t give in to him—ever—then he’d stop hounding us.”

Whining, Gnarly hung his head.

“Mac, how could you?” She slipped her hand onto his wrist when he moved to finish his lunch. “It’s only one bite and he’s been so good lately. The Belkins had a cookout last night. They served lobster and Gnarly didn’t steal even one.”

Gnarly uttered a long whine that ended in a high pitched bark. He reached up to paw at Mac’s knee.

With her on one side and the shepherd on the other, Mac was surrounded. He tossed the last bite of Italian sausage for Gnarly to catch in mid-air.

“Faraday!” Neal Hathaway’s voice was heard to call out from around the corner of the deck.

Unable to believe the influential gentleman was at his home, Mac rose up from the table. “Hathaway?”

Neal jogged around the corner of the house. “Faraday? Are you back here?”

Finished with his sandwich, Gnarly’s mouth was empty to allow him to sound off a bark to announce the guest.

“There you are.” Seemingly unconcerned about the large dog between him and Mac, Neal hurried across the deck to join them. “Am I glad I found you.” He gasped like he had jogged from Pelican Court to Mac’s home, which was over a mile away.

Mac asked, “What’s wrong?”

“I got a very strange call this morning.” Neal dropped down into an empty chair at the table. “I handed it off to Kaplan to handle.” With a handkerchief, he mopped sweat that poured down his forehead and neck. It was hard to tell if the sweat was due to the heat or nerves. Mac surmised it was the latter.

“I even called my lawyer to give him a heads up,” Neal said, “but the more I thought about it—”

“Would you like some iced tea?” Wrinkles from concern formed across Archie’s forehead. She looked like she feared Neal Hathaway was going to have a coronary before their very eyes.

Neal’s eyes widened with surprise when he noticed her. With the handkerchief hanging from his chin, he stopped wiping his face. “Hello.”

Mac tried to introduce them, but Archie was already running into the kitchen for a fresh glass of iced tea for their guest.

Forgotten, Gnarly jumped up to plant his front paws on the table and stuck his nose into Neal Hathaway’s face as if to introduce himself since no one else would.

“This is Gnarly.” Mac pulled him down from the table by the collar. “Go steal a beach towel from someone’s dock. This is a private meeting.”

With a humph noise, Gnarly trotted off the deck and disappeared down the path in the direction of Archie’s cottage.

After gulping almost the full glass of tea that Archie served him, Neal was able to continue. “This morning, I got a call from a woman saying that she’s investigating Ilysa’s murder—”

Mac glanced over at Archie, who shook her head. “It wasn’t me.”

When Neal looked from her back to him, Mac explained, “Archie does research for me. She had looked up the background on your wife’s murder for our investigation.”

“But I didn’t call you,” she asserted.

“No, it wasn’t you,” Neal replied. “This woman’s voice was deep and gravely. It almost sounded like a man’s voice.”

“She’s investigating Ilysa’s murder?” Mac asked.

“And with what she’s uncovered so far, it could be very embarrassing for me and my company. She could let the case go cold, or she could continue with the investigation, in which case it could prove to be very expensive and messy. The choice was up to me, based on how much I wanted it to cost me.”

Archie said, “Sounds like a shake down to me.”

“That’s exactly what it was,” Neal said with relief that he wasn’t imagining the purpose of the call. “So I called Peyton Kaplan and gave him the phone number she had given me to call back with my answer. He did a quick check. It was a cell phone number that he couldn’t trace because it was one of those throw away phones. But he said he’ll take care of it. Then, the more I thought about it—Who was this woman? Why now? Why the shake down? Could she be one of O’Callaghan’s people? Maybe she’s a dirty cop working for him.”

Mac shook his head. “Definitely not one of David’s people. He has two women on the force. One is the desk sergeant. Tonya. I know her. She’d never shake down a suspect.”

Neal Hathaway’s voice shot up an octave. “Suspect? I thought I was a victim. It was my wife that was murdered.”

Archie’s gentle tone calmed him down. “Mac didn’t mean it that way. Clearly, this woman considers you a suspect.”

“Everyone is a suspect when there’s a murder,” Mac said. “None of the women in David’s department are directly involved in this investigation. The other woman is a patrol officer. When did this call come in?”

“A little after nine this morning—right after breakfast. Usually I don’t answer the phone, but today is Greta’s day for grocery shopping. Since she’s out all day, I go ahead and answer it. If I hadn’t picked up, I doubt if she would’ve put the call through.” He smiled. “She’s very good at screening my calls. After fifteen years of working for me, she’s excellent at knowing what calls to put through and what ones are crackpots.”

“If it was at nine o’clock,” Archie noted, “that was more than four hours ago.”

“I know,” Neal said, “I should have come sooner, but I was going to just let Kaplan and my lawyer, George Scales, handle it; but the more I thought—O’Callaghan called me last night. Victor Gruskonov is dead.”

“That’s right,” Mac said.

His face contorted with emotion. “That means one of my people did it.”

“Your people?” Cocking his head at him, Mac fought the grin that came to his lips.

My people.
It was a term he had heard bantered about when he was on the police force. “I’ll have my people call your supervisor,” suspects would say. Mac considered it a joke. The well-to-do considered having people working for them to be as much of a status symbol as a Mercedes or Jaguar. Since his move to Spencer, he had been told more than once, “I’ll have my people contact yours to set up a lunch date.” To which Mac would reply, “I don’t have any people...but I do have a dog.”

Neal sat forward in his chair. “All these years I’ve thought Gruskonov killed Ilysa. If he didn’t do it, then it had to be someone who was at the estate that weekend. Kaplan or his wife. Susan. Rachel. My family. My employees. My friends. My people.” He choked. “I’m responsible for all of them.”

Archie took his hand. “That doesn’t make you responsible for her murder. If any of them killed her, it’s their fault.”

“Could any of them be behind this shake down?” Mac asked him.

“No,” Neal said.

Mac was doubtful. “You don’t think any of them could shake you down, but they could kill your wife?”

Neal let out a small gasp. “Ilysa used to tell me that I was too trusting.
…
Why is this person doing this? Now? The painting? The case opening up again? Everything?”

“I think we’ll find that this shakedown artist is an opportunist,” Mac said. “It’s been all over the news about the painting showing up. That has dredged up a rehashing of the murder. So this woman is trying to take advantage of it. Wait for Kaplanand your lawyer to find out what they can, and then we’ll see about nailing her for attempted extortion.”

Neal wiped his sweaty face again. “I guess you’re right. I apologize for running over here like this. I guess I’m jumpy with all this coming up again—It’s brought back a lot of bad memories from when Ilysa died.” He turned to Archie. “She was the love of my life.”

“I can see that you loved her very much. You two must have been very happy.” Archie stood up. “Would you like to see the painting? We’ve moved it down to the study.”

The reminder of the painting brought a smile to Neal Hathaway’s face. “I would love to.” He turned to Mac. “Have you given any thought to my offer to buy it from you?”

Before Mac could answer, Gnarly came galloping up the steps from where he had disappeared earlier. He clutched a beach towel in his jaws. His pace didn’t slow when he trotted across the deck and stopped in front of Mac where he dropped the towel at his feet. Gnarly then looked up at Mac with expectation filling his face.

When Mac was unable to respond due to shock, Gnarly barked and sat up on his hind legs. He was waiting for his reward for a job well done.

Neal was impressed. “How about that? You told him to go steal a beach towel and that’s what he did. That’s one smart dog.”

“If he’s so smart,” Mac replied, “why doesn’t he know sarcasm when he hears it?”

“Are you kidding me?” Joshua blurted out his objection when Cameron called his cell to break the news about her suspicions of Sherry Bixby inserting herself into the investigation.