It's Murder, My Son (A Mac Faraday Mystery) (21 page)

The county prosecutor stepped away from Mayor Pete Mason to take Archie’s hand. “Did your new roomie bring you as his guest?”

Roy Phillips grasped the lawyer’s arm from behind. “I need to talk to you.” Seeing Archie, his eyes narrowed. “You! What do you think you’re doing here?”

Archie smirked. “I’m here as a guest of the owner. What are you doing here?”

Roy hissed in Ben’s direction, “Did Ms. Monday tell you that she threatened to shoot me this afternoon after ordering her dog to attack me?” He held out his arms in his short-sleeved shirt to display deep scratches that ran up his arms and on his throat. “He almost ripped my throat out. I barely escaped with my life.”

“Calm down, Roy. I’m sure this is all a misunderstanding.” A red cast came to Pete Mason’s tanned face.

Archie said to the police chief, “You started it.”

“I’m an officer of the law and you, Ms. Monday, pushed your luck too far this time.” Seeming to suddenly remember the party guests in earshot, the police chief cleared his throat. “Needless to say, Ben, I’m going to be needing a warrant.” He chewed the skin on the side of his index finger.

“A warrant?” the mayor gasped. “Now, Roy, we should talk about this.”

Archie turned away. “I’ll leave you gentlemen to discuss this issue alone. If you decide to arrest me, you’ll find me at the bar.”

Ben watched Archie climb onto a bar stool and order a drink before turning to the chief of police. “Phillips, why did you go to Spencer Manor?”

“I went to see Mac Faraday. This morning he led me and a state trooper in a high-speed chase.”

Pete suggested, “You can’t blame him for having some fun. He’s just come into a huge fortune and he has that hot car. Who wouldn’t want to make out like a big man on campus?”

Ben brought his point home. “Why did you go chasing after him in the first place?”

“He was speeding.”

The prosecutor chuckled. “Speeding?”

The mayor’s stern expression showed that he failed to see any humor in the situation. “Don’t go messing around with Mickey Forsythe.”

“He isn’t Mickey Forsythe,” Roy Phillips said.

“Even so, Faraday is a direct descendent of this town’s founder and there’re still a lot of people here in Deep Creek who haven’t forgotten the Spencer legacy. With Forsythe’s—”

“Faraday,” Roy corrected the mayor.

“Whatever.” Pete continued, “With his money and lineage, if he decided to make some changes in Spencer, then there won’t be anything any of us can do to stop him.”

The prosecutor added, “Including run for mayor.”

Pete Mason tugged at his shirt collar.

“In other words, Faraday’s got a license to make his own laws here in Spencer,” the police chief said.

“Cut the bull, Roy. You weren’t enforcing the speed limit. You were chasing Faraday because of David O’Callaghan,” Ben said.

“Who happened to be in the car with him.”

Ben lowered his voice. “I’m not going to be made a fool of prosecuting an innocent man. I don’t suppose you compared O’Callaghan’s DNA to that found on the dog?”

“The lab doesn’t have it yet.”

“O’Callaghan went to the lab yesterday to give it to them voluntarily. Why would he do that if he was guilty?”

“He was alone with that dog,” Roy replied. “Who’s to say he didn’t plant someone else’s DNA on the mutt to throw us off the trail?”

Ben argued, “He may be good, but he’s not that good. If he killed the Singleton woman and got attacked by her dog, his DNA would be all over that mutt. Not only that, but O’Callaghan would have bite wounds on him. He’s clean.”

“Maybe the dog didn’t attack the Singleton woman’s killer,” Pete suggested. “Maybe he attacked someone else who happened to be there. The dog wasn’t found until the next day. They could have been two separate incidents that have nothing to do with each other.”

Ben turned to the police chief. “Have you got anything solid to prove O’Callaghan killed the Singleton woman?”

“He slept with the victim and she dumped him,” the police chief declared. “That’s motive.”

“I won’t even be able to get this case beyond a preliminary hearing with that.” The prosecutor ordered, “Move on to other suspects.”

“What about Monday and her dog?”

“In my professional opinion, you should stay away from Archie Monday and leave her alone…and that goes for her little dog, too.”

Chief Phillips resumed chewing the middle finger on his left hand when the county prosecutor walked away.

Mayor Pete Mason snatched Roy’s hand from his mouth. “You idiot! Back off Mac Faraday.”

“Why, Peter? Is he a possible investor?”

“I wish,” the mayor said. “Faraday was one of the best homicide detectives in Washington. Nothing could get past him, or can. Now he’s picked up a scent of something rotten here in Spencer. If that scent leads him to my door, then you’re going to find yourself wishing that dog had ripped your throat out.” Mayor Mason signaled a passing server for a refill of his drink.

“How’s it going, chief?”

Startled, the two men whirled around.

Travis Turner smirked at them. “You look like you’re having a bad day.” He gestured across the room in the direction of the county prosecutor. “I guess Fleming refuses to prosecute David O’Callaghan.”

Chief Phillips said, “He who has the biggest friends with the biggest wallets wins.”

“Too bad.” Travis’s smile broadened. “Did you ever find out where they were going this morning?”

Pete Mason picked up on the satisfied expression. “Out with it, Turner.”

“Lucky for you, O’Callaghan’s mom is friends with my aunt, who happens to be a busybody with a big mouth. They’re in Washington visiting Faraday’s cop friends.”

“What for?” the mayor asked.

“Come on,” Travis said. “Faraday’s a cop, retired or not. Cops may retire, but they don’t quit. I learned that while researching my third book.” He lowered his voice. “They’re checking out Katrina’s old clients to see if she cheated anyone else. Weren’t you one of her clients, Peter?”

“No.”

“I could have sworn one of my sources—”

“Your source is wrong, Turner,” the mayor told him. “I never met Katrina until she moved here.”

“I guess my source meant someone else,” Travis said.

“Must have.”

“Lucky for you. Faraday and O’Callaghan’s suspect list is the last place you’d want to end up.”

The mayor led Roy Phillips away through the crowd. Chuckling, Travis turned around and almost knocked over Archie Monday.

“Excuse me.” Travis grabbed her arm when she turned to return to the bar. “Where are you going in such a hurry?” He brushed her arm with his fingers. “I heard Faraday went back to the city. So happens I’m free this weekend.”

“I’m not,” Archie said. “I have a tight deadline.”

“But we all need a break.” He brought his face close to hers. “How about if we go someplace quiet?”

She backed away. “What about Sophia?”

“She’s in New York.” His expression resembled that of a wolf about to devour its prey. “We’ll have the place all to ourselves.”

“No, thank you.” She turned away, but he tightened his grip on her arm.

“Maybe you don’t understand.” The usually smooth tone in Travis’s voice roughened.

Archie looked down at his hand on her wrist. She looked back up at him. “I believe I understand fully.” She yanked her arm to free his grip, but he held on. “Move your hand or lose it.”

His tone turned menacing. He peered into her eyes. His grip tightened. “The most beautiful women in the world have begged me to make love to them—and you—some little nobody—you think you can say no to me? I’m—”

Before he could finish, Travis’s legs buckled. Abruptly, he was on his knees with his throat in Archie’s free hand. Her grip made it difficult for him to speak.

“I said no thank you.”

In his struggle to take in a breath through the windpipe held in her grasp, Travis released her arm. Beneath his golden tan, his face reddened from lack of oxygen.

She glared down at him. “When a woman says no, she means it. Remember that.”

When she released her grip, Travis, gasping for breath, slumped to the floor. The surrounding guests applauded the entertaining scene.

As he climbed to his feet, Travis hissed at Archie, “You bitch. I’m going to kill you for this.”

Deciding to leave the Inn before encountering any other conflicts, Archie snatched up her handbag from the bar and headed for the lounge.

At the edge of the crowd, Archie caught sight of someone else who hadn’t dressed for the occasion. She wore cream-colored polyester slacks with food stains on her thick thighs. Instead of sandals, she bore old athletic shoes on her sockless feet. On the warm spring night, while the other female guests broke out sleeveless dresses to show off their tans, Betsy opted for an oversized top that resembled a maternity tunic.

Not being one to spend time in the sun, Betsy’s complexion was pale. But when Archie approached her, she saw that the blood had drained from her face. Tears spilled out from under her thick glasses to flow down her cheeks.

“Betsy,” Archie felt compelled to say, “I’m sorry, but Travis brought that on himself. I told him no.” She didn’t know if Betsy heard her. Without saying a word, Betsy ran down the stairs.

Over the railing, Archie saw Betsy run towards the garden. Mayor Pete Mason and Chief Roy Phillips were engaged in a serious conversation when she stumbled into the mayor, which caused him to spill his drink on the police chief. She offered no apology for the collision before disappearing into the garden’s maze. The two men looked at each other before following her.

*   *   *   *

Archie arrived home from the Spencer Inn in time to enjoy the last bits of sunlight spilling across the lake before it set behind the mountains. She sipped her white wine while resting her head on a cushion on the chaise.

After returning from his evening patrol of the Point, Gnarly stretched out at the bottom of the steps within striking distance of any duck that dared to near the dock. His groan of pleasure matched hers.

“Hello? Archie?” She heard called from around the corner of the house.

Francine Taylor turned the corner of the house and waved to her. Every evening after dinner, the older woman would get her exercise by swimming in the cove. She had combed out her wet silver hair and wore a terry cloth bathrobe over her swimsuit. “I guess it’s time for an after dinner drink.”

“Care to join me?” Archie held up her glass.

Francine wasted no time in pouring a glass of wine from the bottle Archie had opened and taking a seat in the chaise next to hers. “I have a case for you. I want you to find a hacker.” She corrected herself. “Maybe you shouldn’t. Because if you do find him, I’ll kill him and end up in jail. But then, considering that he’s a hacker, the jury will probably refuse to convict.”

In a tone that was stating more than asking, Archie replied, “Have you been the victim of a hacker?”

Francine growled before sipping her drink. “He sent me an e-mail with your name on it. It said that it was pictures Robin wanted me to have. I opened one, and the virus swooped in and turned my hard drive into a zombie. Can you take a look at it and see if you can fix it?”