A Wedding and a Killing (22 page)

“It was,” Ruth said. “Natalie and I have been so happy here.” She kissed her on the cheek. “Thank you, Jenny.”

“Don’t thank me,” Jenny said. “The gun was mine. I had gotten it years ago to protect myself from Reese—but I never had the nerve to use it.” She sobbed. “I never expected Scarlett to use it. I thought that Jason would back down once he saw it. How I wish I had never sent it to you.”

“I didn’t kill him, Jenny,” Ruth insisted.

“I know.” Jenny took her hand. “You didn’t kill him. Reese did, by raising him to be a monster, just like him. He put that bullet between our son’s eyes the minute he taught him that women were put on earth to be abused.”

The three of them collapsed into a sobbing mob.

Taking the cell phone with him, Ed gestured for David and Bogie to meet him outside to leave the women alone. In the hallway, Ed asked Mac, “Did you get all that? Still think that it’s possible that Madame X set Ruth up?”

There was a long silence on the other end of the line. “What do you think, David? You’re there. What did Jenny look like to you?”

“She’s genuinely remorseful for her son’s death and the way he had turned out,” David said. “She’s passionate about saving her granddaughter and Ruth.”

“I believe she’s carrying a heavy burden for not stopping her husband from turning him into the monster that he grew up to be,” Bogie said.

“Do you think she killed her son to save her granddaughter?” Ed asked.

“I think she would have confessed to that a long time ago if she did,” David said. “She feels responsible enough as it is for supplying them with the murder weapon.”

“Maybe she didn’t confess because she was afraid of what her husband would have done to her,” Ed said.

“Jenny didn’t do it,” Mac’s voice shot from the cell phone. “She didn’t kill her son.”

They could hear in the tone of his voice that realization had struck him.

“I know who did it,” Mac said. “I know who killed Jason Fairbanks. I just need Archie to dig up some information to prove motive.”

Chapter Twenty

The lawyers from the New York Attorney General’s office and New York State Police were still arm wrestling to determine who was in charge when Mac and Archie, equipped with reports and case files, barged in to speak to whoever it was that had the power to void the arrest warrant for Scarlett Fairbanks, aka Ruth Buchanan.

In the hallway leading to what had once been the county prosecutor’s office, FBI Special Agent Sid Delaney pointed them in the direction of Howard Stafford, who was standing behind the prosecutor’s desk in his spacious corner office like a conqueror staking his claim.

Mac was not happy to see that he looked to be about twelve years old. But he had to deal with him. With Archie directly behind him, Mac rushed in, “Mr. Stafford …” He offered him his hand. “Mac Faraday.”

Ignoring his hand, the young man with the baby face announced, “So you’re the one who started all this.”

“Kind of.” Offering a sheepish grin, Mac thumbed the two case files he hugged to his chest. “It had to be done. With all the years that Reese Fairbanks was running this county, there’s no telling how many people fell victim to the lack of justice here. I’m willing to bet Scarlett Fairbanks is just the tip of the iceberg. You have a lot of work to do.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Stafford said. “Every conviction that Hawkins won can now be overturned, which means the state will need to retry them—if we have the manpower and time to do it.”

“Well, I think I have an easy one for you … if you’ll take the time to look at it with me.” Mac opened one of the case files and laid it down on his desk. “Scarlett Fairbanks. Hawkins issued an arrest warrant for the murder of her husband, Jason Fairbanks.”

“Reese Fairbanks’ son.” Stafford sat down behind the desk and turned the folder around to study the report.

“Right now, there are two detectives from here in Maryland waiting to take her into custody,” Mac said. “But I think once you see what I’ve uncovered, you’ll realize that she didn’t kill her husband. Someone else did and you can save your people a lot of time and money if you will file a motion to drop the charges and let those detectives come back to New York without her. And they can save you a lot more money by bringing back Reese Fairbanks, who the Spencer police are currently holding in their jail.”

“You’ll need to have some pretty convincing evidence to prove she didn’t do it, Faraday.”

“Scarlett Fairbanks took her daughter and left on the day of the murder,” Mac said. “She admits she shot her husband twice.” He held up two fingers. “Once in the shoulder and the second time in the leg. The autopsy report states that he would have survived those two shots. As a matter of fact, they were minor enough for him to get a dishtowel and apply pressure to his leg wound.”

Archie yanked a picture of the crime scene from her folder and handed it to the prosecutor. “The bloody dishtowel is right there, which proves that time passed between those two shots and the fatal one to the head.”

“So the killer is the one who fired the third shot,” Mac said.

“Do you know who that person is?” Stafford asked. “And do you have any proof that they did it?”

“Yes.”

“Who and what proof do you have?”

“Tuyon Weber,” Mac said, “the Fairbanks’ next door neighbor.”

“The neighbor? Why? Were they having some sort of—” Stafford looked up at Archie. “Do you have any proof that this Tu-guy did it?”

“Tuyon,” Mac said. “She was an elderly woman, a Vietnamese war bride, who came over to the United States in the seventies with her American husband.”

“According to the Fairbanks file,” Archie said, “she called the police dozens of times to report Jason Fairbanks for assaulting his wife and daughter. She argued with the police for not doing anything to stop it.”

“What made it especially frustrating for her was that she herself had been an abused wife, so she knew intimately what Scarlett was going through.” Mac opened up the second folder for Stafford to read.

Stafford pulled the file over to scan the information.

“These are hospital reports for Tuyon Weber,” Mac said. “She had been in and out of the hospital for broken bones for several years from the time she came to the states until her husband died after a long illness.”

“Her husband’s illness was never diagnosed,” Archie said, “but the symptoms are consistent with arsenic poisoning.”

“You may or may not want to exhume his body for an autopsy,” Mac said.

Stafford sat back in his seat. “So you’re thinking—”

“Tuyon Weber was working in the garden when she heard the shots,” Mac said. “She came running into the driveway to make sure Scarlett and her daughter were fine. They left. Then, determined to end their suffering, the same type of suffering that she had to endure for years, she went into the Fairbanks home where she found Jason tending to his gunshot wounds. Being the type of man he was, he probably said something abusive to set her off. Whatever happened, she knew that if he lived Scarlett and Holly would never truly be free.”

“Her niece told us that Tuyon had said that it was a tragedy that Jason Fairbanks had to die in order to set Scarlett and Holly free,” Archie said.

“So,” Mac said, “after Scarlett and Holly ran away, Tuyon Weber set them free by picking up the gun and killing Jason Fairbanks.”

“An argument could be made that she killed him to save them,” Archie said.

“Proof of any of this?” Stafford asked.

“The killer could not have been hiding in the garden like we first thought,” Mac said, “because both Scarlett and her daughter stated that Tuyon Weber came running up the driveway when she heard the shots.”

“Yet, she told the police she saw and heard nothing,” Archie pointed out.

“She lied to protect Fairbanks’ wife,” Stafford said.

“The killer couldn’t have been hiding in or come from the garden without Mrs. Weber seeing him because she was gardening,” Mac repeated. “However, physical evidence proves that the killer had been in the garden.” He flipped a page in the Fairbanks case file. “The proof is in the chicken poop.”

“Chicken poop?” Stafford almost brought the page up to his nose to read it.

“Tuyon Weber made her own custom plant fertilizer,” Mac said. “One of the ingredients is chicken poop. Forensics found traces of it in footprints found at the scene. They also found traces of it in dirt left on the grip of the gun. Holly Fairbanks remembers seeing Tuyon Weber putting on her gardening gloves when they were leaving. She wore them when she pulled the trigger.”

“And the chicken poop proves this?”

“If the killer had simply walked through her garden or hidden there, then the chicken poop would have ended up on his shoes to leave footprints.” Mac pointed at the forensics report in the case file. “But, it wasn’t found only on the floor. It was also on the grip of the gun, which proves the killer handled the fertilizer, as well—which is what Mrs. Weber was doing at the time she heard the gun shots.”

Stafford closed the two folders. “I guess we need to issue a warrant to bring this Weber woman in for questioning.”

“Won’t do you any good,” Mac said. “She’s already dead.”

Stafford looked from Mac to Archie and then back again.

“Stafford, the attorney general is on the phone for you,” a young woman called to him from the doorway. “Defense attorneys are flooding the circuit court with appeals.”

Seeing beads of sweat on Stafford’s forehead, Mac pressed. “If I were you, I’d drop the charges against Scarlett Fairbanks, file the Fairbanks murder under suspect dead and unavailable for prosecution, and throw the book at Reese Fairbanks for causing this mess in the first place.”

“Sounds good to me.” Stafford slapped the case file closed. “We’ll have an arrest warrant first thing in the morning. Tell those detectives to not leave Spencer without Fairbanks in custody.”

Within an hour, Spencer Church erupted with a joyous cheer that could be heard out on the lake. Natalie hugged her grandmother while Ruth hugged Carmine.

Everyone was so busy hugging and crying tears of joy that no one noticed when Gnarly jumped up onto the buffet table to steal a chicken breast and escape to the children’s chapel with it.

In her office, when she heard the news, Edna threw her arms around Officer Nathan Brewster to kiss him on the lips. Realizing the unexpected display of affection, she just as quickly pulled away. “I didn’t mean to do that.” Flustered, she explained, “I’m just so thankful to you and everyone for being so patient and not pushing …”

“No problem, ma’am.”

“Edna,” she corrected him.

“Truthfully, I’m kind of sorry that this assignment has ended,” Brewster explained. “The view here is really pretty, and I kind of liked it.”

“Even pulling out my file cabinet?”

“Hey, if you ever need anything pulled out, day or night,” Brewster jerked his thumb toward his chest, “I’m your man.”

“I wouldn’t promise things like that, if I were you.” Blushing, Edna looked down at her feet. “Need I remind you that I’m a single mom with two little girls? My honey-do list is quite extensive.”

Brewster grinned back at her. “I’ll be glad to look at your list anytime. I’m off work tomorrow.”

“So am I,” she said. “I have Fridays and Saturdays off since I work on Sundays.”

“How about if I come over to your place and take a look at your honey-do list?”

Expectantly, Sirrus Thorpe rushed into the office with a plate filled with chicken and potato salad and beans. “I saw that you hadn’t gotten any dinner yet, Miss Edna, so I took the liberty of fixing a plate for you. If you waited any longer, then you were going to miss out on my potato salad.”

Edna’s cheeks turned pink. “Thank you, Sirrus, but I already ate.”

Sirrus’ face fell when he saw the dirty plate already resting in the center of Edna’s desk. He looked up at Officer Brewster.

“I’m sorry, Sirrus,” Edna said.

With a wide grin on her face, Deborah came into the office. “Oh, great, Sirrus, I see you made a plate for me. I was so busy talking to everyone that I didn’t get a chance to get any. Is this your potato salad? I was afraid I was going to miss out.” Taking the plate in one hand, and Sirrus by the arm with the other, Deborah turned him around and they headed out the door. As they turned the corner to go into the fellowship hall, the pastor winked at them.

“I like Pastor Deborah,” Brewster said.

“So do I.”

Leaning against her desk, he asked, “Now, where were we?”

“My honey-do list.”

“Am I being too forward by offering?” Brewster asked.

“No,” she replied. “There’s a ton of small things that need fixed. Starting with a hole in our privacy fence so that Rack, Shack, and Benny can play outside.”

“Rack, Shack—”

“And Benny,” Edna said. “Our dogs. They’re Chihuahuas. Two sisters and a brother. My daughters named them after characters in a Veggie Tales movie. Benny dug a hole under the fence and as soon as he gets out, he takes off. Plus, the railing is loose on our deck and I worry that the girls are going to fall—” Stopping, she shook her head. “Oh, I’m terrible. You must think that I’m taking terrible advantage of you.”

“Hey, I’m begging you to take advantage of me.” He stuck out his chest. “I’ll bring my tool chest and we’ll get Benny penned in tight before you can say ‘Gringo.’”

“And I’ll make you lunch,” she said.

“Don’t make it a big one,” Brewster said. “We have reservations for the Spencer Inn at eight o’clock.”

She kissed him again. “I can’t wait, Nate.”

He kissed her back. “Neither can I.”

“Hey, Brewster!” Bogie slammed his palm against the wall when he came in, causing both Brewster and Edna to jump at the abrupt noise.

Even Gnarly, sitting at Bogie’s side, was cocking his head at the two of them with a suspicious glint in his brown eyes that made them feel guilty enough to back up a full step from each other.

“I know you’re going to be sorry to hear this, but the state prosecutor in New York has dropped the charges against Ruth. That means you and Fletcher can go back to the station and check in with Tonya before signing out. Have a great weekend and see you when you’re back on duty Monday morning.” He winked at the office manager. “You, too, Edna.”

“Thank you, Bogie,” she replied, “for everything.” She gazed up at Brewster. “You guys are the best.”

Brewster’s face felt warm. To hide his blush, he turned his attention to Bogie. “What about the detectives from New York who came down to pick up Ruth? How are they taking the news about going back to New York empty handed?”

“That’s right,” Edna said. “I forgot all about them. Aren’t they going to be angry that they came all the way down here for nothing?”

“They’re not going back empty handed,” Bogie said with a laugh. “The FBI and New York Attorney General both want Reese Fairbanks. David called the detectives. They both have appointments with the masseuse at the Inn’s spa for tomorrow morning and asked that everyone take their time.”