Blast from the Past (A Mac Faraday Mystery) (11 page)

Chapter Fifteen

Mac gets to go play cop and mobster, and I’m sitting home like the little woman waiting for her man to come home.

Archie tossed her e-reader onto the sofa and turned around to look at Bogie, who was reading a Zane Grey novel he had found in Robin’s library. It was an autographed first edition that the author had purchased at an estate auction years before. “It’s not fair,” she told the deputy chief.

“Life isn’t fair.” Bogie turned a page. “Haven’t you learned that yet?”

“I guess I should have learned that twelve years ago when I gave up my family and went into the program,” she said. “How ironic. I did the right thing, but I ended up on the run.”

Bogie looked up from his book. “But look at where it landed you.”

“If it was really fair, I’d be out there with Mac and Gnarly chasing down the truth instead of here.”

“Hey,” Bogie objected. “I may not be as handsome as Mac and Gnarly, but I can still be pretty good company.”

“It isn’t that.” Archie looked around the spacious living room. As luxurious as it was, she felt like a caged lioness wanting to be out on the hunt with her lion. “Maybe a nice, long soak in the tub will make me feel better.”

Upstairs, she noticed that the door to Leah’s room was open.
I should at least try to be civil. After all, she is my guest.
She paused in the open doorway while weighing the consequences of not saying hello.

Leah was sitting in the chair by the window with her smart phone in her hand. Her fingers flew gracefully across the screen while she texted away.

“Hello,” Archie interrupted her communication.

Startled, Leah thrust the phone behind her back. “Don’t you people knock before entering someone’s room?”

“The door was open and I was going by on the way to my room.” Archie replied. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes.”

The two women stared at each other.

“Good night,” Leah said in a forceful tone.

“Same to you.” Archie moved on down the hallway.

“Did you catch him?” Marshal Randi Finnegan hurried over to ask David after he parked the cruiser along the curb in front of the restaurant.

David saw Nora Crump sitting in the back of one of the fleet of cruisers that had arrived at the scene in response to his call. They were still waiting for the ME. He tried to contain his disgust when Gordon Crump’s widow tore her eyes away from the dead body to look at him.

“No.” David whizzed by the marshal to go up to speak to Nora.

Randi let out a quick breath. “Do you mean he got away?”

“Yes.”

She followed him. “How?”

“He just did.” David whirled around to tell her. “I’m not super cop, you know.”

“Why is your face red?”

“Because I’ve had a lousy day, that’s why.” He turned to Nora. “Tell me what happened here tonight.”

The widow’s eyes bugged at his sharp tone. Her mouth hung open. Her eyes darted to Randi.

“David,” Randi said, “the woman lost her husband.”

“I’m sorry.” With a sigh, David covered his face and started again. “I’m sorry for your loss. Can you tell me what happened?”

One of his officers came out of the building to tap him on the arm. “Chief, Mr. Faraday found something inside that you ought to see.”

“Just a minute, Oakley.” David held up a finger to the officer as an order to wait. At that moment, he wanted a statement from Nora Crump about what connections she had that would cause three men, one her husband, to suddenly end up dead. His arms folded across his chest, he peered down at her.

With frightened eyes that resembled a deer crossing the road in the dead of night only to be caught in the high beams of a racing truck, Nora gazed back up at him. “I don’t know,” she said in a small trembling voice. “We had dinner. We were having a good time. We came out to go to our car and this man suddenly came out from the courtyard and walked right up to Gordon and shot him. Not just once. He kept shooting, even when Gordon was down on the ground…and all I could do was stand there. I don’t know… Did I scream? I felt like I was screaming, but I don’t remember if I did or not.”

Randi asked, “Did he ask for anything? Your husband’s wallet or watch?”

“No.” She gasped. “He did say something right before he started shooting. When he came up to us, he said, ‘Hey, Gordon.’ Gordon stopped. Then, I saw the gun. This man—he was wearing a dark running jacket and a hood up over his head so I couldn’t see his face. He said, ‘This is for Tommy Cruze.’ That was when he started shooting.” She covered her ears. “I don’t know how many times he shot. He wouldn’t stop shooting.”

David asked, “Did your husband do business with Tommy Cruze?”

She sobbed. “Business? Maybe.” She shrugged. “We never really talked about his business dealings. But I do remember taking a phone message at home once from some guy who said his name was Tom Cruze.” She offered a weak smile. “I remember it because I made a joke asking him if he made movies. You know? The movie star.” Her smile fell. Tears came to her eyes. “’But the man on the phone didn’t see the humor in it. His voice was so hard when he said, ‘If your husband knows what’s good for him, he’ll call me back.’” Tears rolled down her face. “Who is this Cruze guy? Why would anyone kill Gordon? I mean, who would want to kill someone who sells toilets?”

“Toilets?” Randi asked. “What did your husband do?”

“Gordon owns a kitchen and bath supply store.”

While David and Randi exchanged puzzled expressions, the officer whispered in the police chief’s ear. His eyes lit up before he told the officer, “Take Mrs. Crump down to the station and make her comfortable.”

“Do you want me to take her statement?” Officer Oakley asked.

“No, I’ll take it.” David turned around to go into the restaurant. “Call Bogie on his cell and tell him what’s going on.”

“Do you want him to come down here?”

“No,” David said with a sharp tone. “I want him to stay with Archie Monday. This isn’t over yet.”

His arms folded over his chest, Mac was standing guard in front of the men’s restroom door when David and Randi came in. “Took you long enough,” Mac called to them.

“I was talking to the victim’s wife,” David said.

The corner of Mac’s lip curled. “Did you catch the perp pulling out of the parking lot?”

“No.” The word was a sharp snap at him.

Randi told Mac, “He’s very sensitive about it.”

Mac unfolded his arms. “He should be. Nora Crump sent him on a wild goose chase.”

“You make that sound like she did it on purpose,” Randi said. “You saw her. Her husband was gunned down in front of her. She was in shock—still is—and confused.”

“Oakley told me you found the murder weapon.” David gestured at the bathroom door. “It’s in there?”

“The shooter didn’t get in the car and run. Gnarly followed his trail around behind the restaurant, and in through the kitchen entrance to here where he dropped the gun and his jacket.” Mac opened the door for them to peer inside. “Then, he mixed in with the crowd running out to see what happened.”

Slipping on his evidence gloves, David stepped inside and knelt to examine the jacket and gun on the floor next to the garbage can.

“The gun was wrapped up inside the jacket.” Mac followed him inside after ordering Gnarly to stay out in the corridor. “Gnarly pulled it out onto the floor.”

Careful not to disturb any possible fingerprints, David picked up the gun and sniffed it. “It was recently fired. We need to contain this scene and get forensics in here.”

The forensics team was already coming in with their cases of equipment. After ordering them to search the men’s room for possible evidence of the shooter, David and Randi went back outside to collect statements from possible witnesses who had stuck around instead of running.

“So we meet again,” one of the forensics officers, a petite redhead, said before following her partner into the men’s restroom.

“Again?” Mac asked.

“Skeltner Cove B and B,” she reminded him. “Mary Catherine Skeltner was dragged out of her bed and tossed down the stairs.” She clutched the handle of her crime scene kit with both hands. “Got any suspects yet?”

“One,” Mac said. “Unfortunately, he has an alibi. Have you had a chance to process the evidence yet?”

“Well, you guys have been keeping us pretty busy,” she said with a slight smile on her lips. “But, we do have one piece of good news for you.”

“I could use some good news.”

“Whoever killed her, we got her DNA,” she said in a coy tone.

“Her?”

“Her,” she replied. “So if your suspect is a man, then he isn’t your guy. At least he doesn’t belong to that lens you found or the hair we collected from under the victim’s fingernails.”

Her reply caught Mac’s interest. “Our killer is a woman with dark hair and she wears contact lenses.”

“It was a daily disposable lens with enough human tears on it to lift a DNA profile.” She peered inside the bathroom. “We also got fibers from a black material under her fingernails.” She caught Mac’s eye before looking back down at the jacket on the floor. “The same type of material that this jacket is made of.”

“A witness saw our chief suspect riding a silver bike,” Mac said. “There’s a silver bike at the rack outside.”

She grinned at him. “If the treads to that bike’s tires match the tread marks we collected at the scene, then you might be able to make a case for these two murders being connected. But then, I’m not the detective. My job is to only examine the evidence and give you the report.” She went into the bathroom.

“Very interesting.”

Mac turned to go secure the bike he had seen when he realized that Gnarly was nowhere around.
I swear I spend half of my time at crime scenes looking for that animal.
Calling out for Gnarly in a coarse whisper, Mac went into the dining room.

The murder had cleared out the restaurant that was usually packed on the weekends. Those who had finished giving their statements to the police had hurried home to their loved ones.

Only one employee, a brunette dressed in the form-fitting red and black dress of a Mexican senorita, was still in the dining room. She was sitting next to the fireplace crying softly while stroking Gnarly, who was resting his head in her lap. While wiping her nose with a napkin with one hand, she stroked the top of Gnarly’s head with the other.

Neither of them moved when Mac came up to their table. “I hope Gnarly isn’t bothering you.”

Startled, she clasped her hands to her bosom and whirled around. Appearing equally startled, Gnarly looked up over his shoulder at Mac as if to accuse him of interrupting a very good petting.

Apologizing for scaring her, Mac pulled out a chair from the table next to her and straddled the back to sit down. “I guess the murder scared away all of your customers.”

The windows looking out into the parking lot were lit up with blue and red lights from the emergency vehicles. Seeing that Mac wasn’t dragging him off, Gnarly returned his head to the pretty woman’s lap. She resumed petting him.

“If you weren’t with the police,” she sniffed, “would you be hanging around if you didn’t have to?”

“No,” Mac said. “I’d rush home to hug my family.” He cocked his head at her. “Why haven’t you left?”

“One of the police officers—his name tag said Fletcher—told me the chief would want to talk to me.” Her eyes filled with tears. Weeping, she dropped her head and clutched Gnarly closer to her. As best as he could, Gnarly inched in to give her a canine version of a hug with his head pressed against her breast.

Mac asked her in a quiet tone, “Did you see what happened?”

She brought her hand down from where it was wiping her eyes. She hugged Gnarly. Quickly, she nodded her head. “I can’t believe I saw a man…killed.”

“Can you tell me what you saw?”

She lifted her eyes from where she was staring down into Gnarly’s face. “Are you here to take my statement?”

“One of the other officers will do that,” Mac said. “But I am working with the Spencer police on this case. Did you actually see it happen?”

Nodding her head, she pointed at the window. “I was at the window looking for them…I was their server, and the man had left without his credit card. It was strange. Suddenly, his wife had to leave. I had only just served him coffee, and she got all anxious that they had to go. I couldn’t ring them up fast enough.”

Recalling the café that morning, Mac asked, “Did they have a fight?”

She shrugged her shoulders with one hand up in the air in a gesture of confusion.

“All of a sudden, they had to leave,” Mac recalled.

“
She
had to go,” the server corrected him.

“Did she get a call on her cell phone?” Mac asked. “Maybe something happened…”

“I didn’t see her using the phone,” the server replied. “She was mostly taking in the crowd and the view outside.”

“What about the husband?” Mac asked. “The man that got shot?”

“He was talking non-stop,” she said. “It was both sad and funny at the same time. He was talking away to her, and you could see that she wasn’t paying any attention to him.” She shuddered. “I remember thinking what a weird, disgusting…” Tears came to her eyes. “I feel so bad. He smelled…it wasn’t cologne, it was body odor, and he kept picking his nose. I kept thinking how gross—Now he’s dead.” Sobbing, she collapsed her face into Gnarly’s mane. “I feel so bad now for thinking that.”

Gently, Mac patted her shoulder.  “They were having coffee …”

“He ordered coffee for dessert.” Wiping her nose, she sat up. “Double cream and sugar. I heard her tell him that one day all that fattening cream and sugar was going to kill him.” Her voice shook. “Five minutes later…”

“Did they walk out together?”

“No,” she said. “They decided to leave together. I got their check and he gave me the card. I rang it up and took the booklet to them. As soon as I got there, she got up and told him to come. I was still clearing the table when they took off. Then I saw that he had left the card. I went to the reception area to catch them and I looked out the window and… saw it …”

Mac sat forward. “What did you see happen?”

“She was crossing the access lane to the parking lot,” she said. “The killer, he was wearing a black running suit with a hood on it, passed her coming toward the restaurant from the parking lot. They walked right past each other and he came up to where her husband was stepping off the curb to follow her. Suddenly, he pulled out a gun and shot him.” She covered her ears. “I can’t tell you how many times he shot him. It seemed to go—he went down with the first shot, but the man in the hoodie stood over him and kept on shooting. Then he ran around behind the restaurant and the wife came running up to her husband.”