Evelyn David - Sullivan Investigations 02 - Murder Takes the Cake (6 page)

“
Lots of smart girls choose losers,” Rachel said softly. “Some guy comes along and fills the smart girl’s head with exciting promises for the future and, for a change, makes her feel like she’s the pretty girl in the room and not just the smart one. The problem is that you can’t argue with smart girls. She doesn’t listen when family and friends warn her she’s about to make the biggest mistake of her life.”

Rachel stood up and collected the empty cereal bowls.
“But one day the smart girl finally does wise up and kicks the loser’s sorry ass to the curb.”

Mac smiled.
“You think Bridget will figure it out?”

She nodded.
“She’s one of the smart ones. Hopefully she’ll come to her senses before a gaggle of girls are walking down the aisle in some God-forsaken outfits.”

He started to stand up, but Rachel motioned for him to stay, the expression on her face turning serious. He wasn
‘t sure what was on her mind but feared it was going to be one of those ‘let’s talk about our relationship’ discussions. He wasn’t ready for that. Or maybe he was, but not right then. He’d been so busy thinking about the ‘if’, that he hadn’t thought about the where…where they were going that is. He should have. Women liked to know where things were going. He knew from past experience. Most of his other relationships had ended before they really began. He wanted this time to be different, but the urge to run and avoid this particular conversation at this particular moment was almost overwhelming. “Whiskey is out there by herself. I should–”

“
Relax, I need a minute.” She smiled. “I need to ask you–”

“
Couldn’t it wait until tomorrow?” He could feel the palms of his hands starting to sweat. “We could have lunch–”

“
Mac, please. There’s something missing–”

His head was beginning to pound.
“Really, Rachel. I’m no good at analyzing–”

“
But I’m afraid Jeff will blame me for–”

“
No. Believe me. He’ll blame me. He calls it my phobia. We’ve been down this road before. I don’t think it’s fear. It’s more a need to avoid difficult situations. I was just hoping …. Maybe with some more time we–”

“
You have a phobia about.… Wait, Jeff’s had caskets stolen before? He didn’t mention that. Maybe this other company–Dalton’s is involved in this. There have been a few odd things concerning deliveries and I know they were trying to convince Jeff to sell out. But I never imagined it would become a serious problem.”

“
What?” Mac was confused. Somehow he’d misread the whole situation. Maybe she wasn’t breaking up with him. Can you even break up with someone you really haven’t dated yet?

“
The missing caskets? Did Jeff already tell you about them? There’s about $20,000 worth that we can’t find. Jeff is talking about running some kind of sting operation to catch the thieves.”

She was talking about work. Not him. Not them. He took a deep breath.
“You wanted to talk about caskets?”

“
Yes. What did you think I wanted to talk about?”

That was a reasonable question. He just didn
‘t have a reasonable answer. “Turkeys?” Turkeys were stupid birds and he felt just like one. He sniffed his jacket sleeve. Smelled like one too.

“
Turkeys? What in the world? Now you’ve lost me.”

There were different kinds of losing. He
‘d be better off not explaining, just retreating to fight again another day. “Nothing. Don’t mind me, I’m just tired.” Mac stood and shrugged on his smelly jacket. “And I owe you dinner.”

Rachel laughed.
“You owe me several, Mr. Sullivan.”

“
That I do.” He smiled. “I’ll call you and we’ll try again. Maybe have two or three meals at a time until we’ve caught up. And I promise I’ll get into the casket issue tomorrow when I’m not dead on my feet.”

“
Funny.”

“
Yeah, well, I might as well get points for humor. As number 11 on the D.C. detectives list, I have to try harder.” Mac started to walk to the door, but paused. “So what are you doing on Thanksgiving? Jeff and Kathleen want me to join the family, but I’m not up to that scene. You’re probably doing something with your family.…”

“
Not this year.” Rachel sighed. “Sam is going skiing with his new girlfriend and my brother is off visiting his fiancée’s family. Kathleen asked me to come too, but I’m not up for that scene either. I thought I’d stay home and feel sorry for myself.”

“
So maybe we could do that together? Or if we got really inspired we could get a pizza and watch some football or something?”

“
Or maybe we could eat some turkey with cornbread stuffing, sweet potatoes, green bean casserole, and pecan pie and then watch a movie?” Rachel countered.

“
We’d need to negotiate the menu. Whiskey doesn’t like pecan pie.”

“
How does she feel about apple pie?”

“
A la mode?” he asked.

“
Of course.”

“
It’s a date.”

Mac noticed her smile and figured his was a match. This wasn
‘t as hard as he thought it was going to be. Maybe dating was like riding a bike. If he remembered correctly, this would be the time for a first kiss.

He started to lean forward, but she was already walking across the living room.

“Let me know what happens with Bridget.” She turned and held open the door.

“
Sure.” As he recalled, he never was that good on a bike.

Chapter 6

The outer office bell jingled. The sound of metal hitting the recently refinished doorframe immediately followed.

Sitting at his desk, Mac looked up from the newspaper he was reading. He waited for the expected response from his assistant. JJ didn’t disappoint him, responding with a high-pitched curse concerning Edgar, his ancestry and some incomprehensible statement about a barnyard animal.

A sulking Whiskey whined and rolled over on the futon sofa, facing the wall.

Mac chuckled. “What’s the matter? Don’t you want to greet your traveling buddies, your detective cohorts?”

A series of low growls erupted.

“Fine, be like that. Just remember, it’s not my fault you’ve had to have baths, two days running. Believe me, I got no joy shelling out half a month’s rent to keep you respectable. Next time I’ll get two dollars in quarters and take you through a car wash, see how you like that.”

The dog lifted her head and glared over her shoulder at him.

“Yes, I do mean it. High pressure hose and all.”

JJ appeared in his doorway.
“Sorry to interrupt.…”

“
What?” He launched the one word response like a bullet. He wasn’t ready to let her or Edgar off the hook for the events of the day before. It was past time the people…and the animals in his office, knew who was in charge. What if the guy in the barn had used the pitchfork on one of them instead of JJ’s tires? He should have personally checked out the missing turkey case before ever agreeing to take it on. He’d become too complacent over the last month. Lost his edge. Probably all that dating was dissolving his brain.

“
Hey, you already yelled at me once this morning. You don’t pay me enough to put up with it all day long, mister.”

Mac narrowed his eyes. After her outburst, JJ had actually flounced out of his office; a difficult feat for someone wearing an outfit better suited for a military grunt than a southern belle.

He obviously needed to establish some boundaries. She worked for him!

“
And buy some appropriate clothes for the office. Nothing in camouflage! A suit maybe. And no hobnailed boots. I’m tired of you scaring off the clients.” There! That was something he’d been intending to say for days.

Edgar drove into the room.
“Some secretary you’ve got there. Want to know what she said about your ancestry? Total insubordination. I could fire her for you.”

“
That won’t work.” Mac stood. JJ wasn’t the only one needing taking down a peg or two. “The reason I asked you to come in today was to fire you. I told you to do some research–on the computer. I never asked you to go out to that farm.”

“
You never said not to go out to the farm.” Edgar moved closer, knocking into a chair. “The message I got from Rambo-ette was that I could make some calls from my house, if I wanted. And you wanted to know if the missing turkeys, the missing money, and the missing wife were all connected. I did that research, made some calls, got suspicious that it was all a scam and decided to check it out in person. I’m thorough.”

“
And it never occurred to you to call me, ask my opinion before barreling into a dangerous situation and getting yourself stranded without backup? What if JJ hadn’t gotten a crazy urge to visit the farm?”

“
Check your cell phone lately, Slick?”

“
Don’t change the subject!”

“
I called the office, got no answer. Then I tried to get you on the cell phone. Went right to voice mail.”

Mac got a sinking feeling in his stomach. He had been tied up with Bridget for most of the afternoon. Sometimes he forgot to check for messages on his cell. He walked across the room, pulled his jacket off the brass clothes tree, and dug out his cell phone. Two unheard voice messages. He glanced at Edgar who was studiously looking out the window. The old man was pretty sharp.

He turned to look at Whiskey. She wasn’t so discreet.

She was sitting up, grinning at him as if she knew he
‘d screwed up and wanted him to know she knew.

Mac turned back to Edgar. He still needed to reestablish some boundaries. The old man could have waited until he talked with him before doing fieldwork.
“Next time you don’t make a move without talking to me. And I want a double-spaced report about your findings on my desk by noon.”

Edgar pulled a file from a backpack hanging off his scooter. He tossed a file on the desk.

“What else do you want me to do?”

He should have figured Edgar would be a step ahead of him.
“Leave. And on your way out tell my secretary I need her to pick up a vehicle from O’Herlihy’s Funeral Home.”

Mac looked back over at Whiskey and smiled. Still speaking to Edgar, he added,
“Jeff’s got another clunker for me. Tell JJ to take it through the car wash on the way back. Whiskey might want to ride with her, get some fresh air.”

The dog got up from the sofa and walked into the bathroom.

Laughing, Mac knew if the dog had been able, she would have slammed the door.

***

He gingerly backed the ancient Cadillac into the illegal spot he’d found on Connecticut Avenue. He hoped Bridget would hustle out to meet him before a cop decided to give him a parking ticket, and probably another one for toxic dumping, judging from the exhaust fumes pouring out the back pipe. Only the fear of the inevitable lecture on gift horses kept him from launching a complaint at Jeff. If he ever got a case that paid real money, he’d buy a car. Maybe not the red Ferrari Whiskey wanted, but something respectable. Hell, he’d be happy with something he could drive unnoticed down the street.

Mac checked his watch. He
‘d agreed to pick up Bridget from her friend’s apartment and deliver her home in time for the ‘O’Herlihy-Lasky meet & greet’ dinner. He’d tried every excuse in the book to skip the soiree, but Jeff had pulled the trump card when he mumbled, “You owe me.” Mac had shut up. Nothing more needed to be said. Yeah, he did owe Jeff, a lot.

“
Another wreck from Dad?” Bridget wrestled open the dented passenger door and peered in. She was dressed in form-fitting black wool pants and a heather green turtleneck, topped with her red leather jacket.

“
Your carriage awaits, Cinderella,” Mac grumbled, gesturing to the cavernous interior.

“
More like the pumpkin.” Bridget grinned. “But you definitely are my fairy godmother.”

Mac raised an eyebrow in challenge.

“Fairy godfather is what I was going to say.”

Despite the impish grin, Mac could see the tension in his goddaughter
‘s face. Even a healthy application of makeup couldn’t hide the dark circles under her eyes.

“
Didn’t get much sleep last night?” Mac pulled out into traffic and headed towards Kensington and the O’Herlihy home. The caddy only backfired twice.

“
Great, people are going to think we’re shooting at them.” Bridget frowned. “For your information, you never really sleep on pull-out couches. There’s this bar that goes right across the small of your back.”

“
Are you sure you wanted to sleep? Afraid of bad dreams, maybe? No one would blame you. That’s two deaths in–”

“
I’m not afraid of anything,” Bridget snapped. “I’ve been to crime scenes before.”

“
Okay, okay.” He held up his hand to ward off the verbal assault. She was wound tighter than an eight-day clock.

Bridget settled back in her seat.

“Well…we don’t know for sure it was a crime scene,” Mac said, trying to lower the tension in the car.

“
It was and you know it.” Bridget turned to face her godfather. “Please, Uncle Mac. You don’t believe Crager died of natural causes no matter what that idiot sheriff said.” She paused, and then smirked. “He was trying to impress your girl.”

Mac was unsuccessful in trying to stifle his grin.
“First, she’s not my girl. Rachel Brenner is nobody’s girl. Not that she’s old or anything.”

Bridget laughed.
“Okay, woman, your woman.”

“
Well that’s a little ahead of ourselves too,” Mac agreed. “But yeah, he was an idiot sheriff.”

“
So you agree that Crager met an untimely death. Just like Ken Edelstein.”

“
I’m not sure about anything, much less the reason for your reporter friend’s death.”

“
Well I am.” Bridget crossed her arms over her chest. “I think whoever killed Crager used the same poison that killed Ken. And the same poison that killed that gift rat someone wrapped up with a pretty little bow for me. My guess is that they used warfarin cut with something else.”

“
Warfarin?”

“
Yeah. It’s the same basic drug as Coumadin; you know the blood thinner. But warfarin was one of the first rat poisons. They use other stuff now, but warfarin kills faster than the stuff on the market, especially if you have bleeding problems anyway. I Googled rat poisons.”

“
Let’s say you’re right, that the killer used rat poison. How did the killer get Edelstein and Crager to eat it? Mix it with cheese?”

“
Funny.” Bridget rummaged around in her purse. “Nope. I think the killer mixed the poison in with the margarita Ken drank and in the Jack Daniels Mr. Crager downed. The alcohol masks the taste. I didn’t get the glass Ken drank out of but.…” She triumphantly pulled a plastic bag containing a shot glass out of her purse.

Mac shook his head in disbelief.
“Please, please tell me you didn’t take that from the Crager crime scene.”

Bridget turned away and stared out the window, the passing scenery apparently fascinating.
“I might have borrowed it.” Her voice was very soft.

“
Jesus, Bridget.” Mac could feel his blood pressure skyrocketing. He pulled over and turned off the engine. “You know that even if you’re right, you screwed up any possibility of using that glass for evidence.”

Bridget turned back, defiance flashing in her eyes.
“The sheriff wasn’t interested in the glass. He thinks Crager died of natural causes.”

Mac took a deep breath trying to get his emotions under control. Arguing with Bridget was like arguing with the Pope. Neither one was going to change his opinion.

“What do you plan to do with your souvenir? I say souvenir because we sure can’t use it for anything else.”

“
Take it to a lab and have it tested.”

“
And then what?”

Bridget looked uncomfortable.
“And then I don’t know what. But at least I’ll know I’m not crazy.”

Mac considered the information.
“How do you know he’d been drinking Jack Daniels? I didn’t see any bottles in the house.”

Bridget considered that fact.
“Maybe the killer took the bottle with him. But Crager was definitely drinking Jack Daniels. You can smell it.” She extended the opened bag to Mac, who sniffed it and handed it back.

She put the bag with the glass back in her purse.

“I saw a beer bottle on the coffee table, along with the shot glass.” Bridget explained. “It’s like college. Drink a beer and follow it with a whiskey chaser. Double the pleasure.”

“
And the pain,” Mac said ruefully. “I did see a beer bottle on the coffee table when I came downstairs from the bedroom. I guess you had already taken the glass.”

The young reporter nodded.

“But I only saw a single bottle of beer. So maybe he was drinking by himself.” Mac thought the argument sounded weak, but felt he had to offer it.

Bridget shook her head.
“Come on, Uncle Mac, it’s not like the killer was going to leave his bottle and glass behind.”

Mac reluctantly agreed, then held out his hand.
“Give me the glass. I’ll take it to a friend of mine at the police lab. If anybody’s doing time for screwing up a crime scene, it certainly can’t be the bride. We still need to talk about his computer. Did you manage to find anything interesting on it?”

“
I couldn’t get in. He had a password and there was no time.” Bridget grinned and dug into her purse. “But here’s the glass. I was hoping you’d offer to deal with it.”

“
Right. I’m the biggest sucker you know.” He took it, locked it in the glove box, then started the car. “Now let’s get over to your parents. We’re going to be in enough trouble for being late.”

“
What’s my dad going to do? Take away your car?” Bridget laughed.

He pulled out into traffic. The car backfired in protest.
“No. If Jeff wanted to punish me, he’d make me keep it.”

***

Jeff knew the odds of finding something to eat in the cupboard were zip to none. He should have gone through the drive-through window and scarfed down a burger and fries before coming home. He’d have to start keeping a toothbrush at work so he could erase any telltale evidence on his breath before walking into the house.