Deception (A Miranda Murphy Thriller) (8 page)

Could have Burton done the surgery out of the clinic setting? Absolutely not. Nose and cheekbone surgeries required special equipment and a sterile environment, unless one didn’t mind the patient dying on the operating table or suffering from serious post-op complications.

Was it possible that Burton had received the pictures from his colleague at another clinic? To test this hypothesis, Miranda sent inquiries to every plastic surgery clinic on the East Coast that did nose and cheekbone surgeries. Why hadn’t he asked Dillon himself about Burton? He had a hunch Dillon wasn’t going to tell him the truth.

Later that day, Miranda listened one more time to the recording of the conversation between Burton and the cop posing as Hackett.

Burton: “Hello, are you Jeff?”

Winslow: “Yes. Did you call me yesterday?”

Burton: “Your father is Marshall Dillon, the president of American Discount Tires?”

Winslow: “Yes, Marshall Dillon is my father. What do you want to talk to me about?”

Burton: “When was the last time you spoke to your father?”

Winslow: “About three months ago.”

Burton: “When was the last time you saw him?”

Winslow: “Three months ago. Why are you asking this? What’s your name?”

Burton: “Be very careful, Jeff,” the man said. “I think someone wants you dead. If I were you, I’d leave Boston today and hide. I’ll contact you again later.”

It was clear that Burton had not been sure he had contacted the right Jeff Hackett. He must have obtained phone numbers of every Jeff Hackett in Greater Boston and begun dialing them one by one. He had obviously been looking for Marshall Dillon’s son.

So Burton had found out about the plot to murder Jeff Hackett and decided to warn him, right?

Why was the surgeon so interested in the frequency of Jeff’s contacts with his father? Why did he want to keep Marshall Dillon’s photos out of his killer’s hands? Because Dillon was involved in this?

The father was after his own son?

It seemed so.

So let’s recap.

Assuming she had correctly interpreted the photos on Burton’s flash drive, Marshall Dillon had had his nose and cheekbones operated on three and a half months ago. Three weeks after the surgery, Marshall Dillon had gotten into an accident in Italy. The surgeon that had presumably performed the aforementioned surgery had been murdered shortly after attempting to contact Jeff Hackett. 

There were also Dillon’s photos Burton had stashed away in a safe deposit box. On some of those pictures Dillon didn’t look himself. It could mean something, or it might have been a case of bad lighting.

Had Burton been killed because he had operated on Dillon? Interesting idea.

Why did people usually have plastic surgeries? To correct flaws in appearance, to look younger. And also to...

Ted Winslow. If they’d had more time and the money to pay for the services of a plastic surgeon, they could have made an excellent copy of Jack Hackett out of Ted, couldn’t they?

But she digressed.

Her new idea.

Damn, this idea was insanely interesting. Crazy idea.

6.

On Friday, Miranda heard from the Italian hospital that had treated the injuries Dillon had sustained in the May car crash. In addition to brain concussion and bruised larynx, Dillon had suffered fractures of the left cheekbone, the nose, the lower jaw, the right forearm, and the right hand. Interestingly, the hospital couldn’t send her the X-rays because Dillon had taken them with him to America. 

The damage to his right hand must have been pretty bad as he still couldn’t use it for writing. Learning to write with your other hand was a tough task for sure.

Dillon was forced to write with his left hand, right? It was not his choice.

One couldn’t wish for a better excuse to avoid using a certain hand than a car crash. And don’t forget those broken facial bones. Plus the fact that X-rays were gone. Her crazy idea might be not so crazy after all.

7.

The next day Miranda found another reason why Marshall Dillon might have needed the car crash. The video of last year’s Christmas dinner at Dillon’s Boston estate, which was stored on Jeff Hackett’s laptop, provided an excellent sample of Dillon’s voice, and, just as Miranda suspected, it was noticeably different from the voice Marshall had now. It got deeper, coarser. Miranda was sure that, if she asked Dillon what had happened to his voice, he would blame the car accident he’d had in Italy. His larynx had gotten bruised, remember?

Had he pretended to have a bruised larynx? He might have. It was one those conditions that you could fake by complaining.

“Good thing you went to that dinner,” Miranda said to Hackett after they finished watching the recording. “And kept the video.”

“I’m glad it helped,” Hackett replied. “So what’s you new theory?”

After a short silence, Miranda said, “First of all, I believe that your real father is dead.”  

“What do you mean by ‘real father’? And when did it happen?” Jeff gave the detective a puzzled look.

“I think the real Marshall Dillon died three or four months ago.”

 Jeff furrowed his eyebrows. “You have a peculiar sense of humor, Miranda.”

“I’m not joking. Your father’s been dead for at least three months. The man who’s calling himself Marshall Dillon is an impostor.”

“Impostor? What are you talking about?”

“Your father’s been replaced with a look-alike. I suspect it happened when he was in Italy three months ago.”

Jeff stared silently at Miranda for a few seconds and then shook his head. “I don’t understand. Who did it? Why? How did they do that?”

“I suspect that your father’s girlfriend Monica Staggs is behind this. She found a guy who looked like Marshall Dillon and used him to replace your father. Why? She had three hundred and fifty million reasons to do it.”

Yes, Miranda had a new theory. Dillon, or rather, Dillon’s double had needed plastic surgery not to deal with the signs of aging, but to enhance his resemblance to the original. To create a copy of Marshall Dillon, so to speak. Burton was the one who had done the surgery.

Saddam Hussein’s doubles might have had to go through a similar routine.

How had Burton guessed why that man had changed his appearance? Had he seen Dillon’s picture on the internet or in a newspaper? On TV? It was not important. The bottom line was Burton had realized he had gotten involved in a serious game. Why hadn’t they dispatched him right after the surgery? Maybe they believed the surgeon would never figure out their secret. Maybe they decided to let him live so he would take care of any medical complications that could arise. Or maybe they planned to kill Burton a few months later in order not to draw the cops’ attention to the surgery he had performed on the fake Dillon.

Did Staggs and the impostor act independently or were they part of an organized crime group? Most likely, they worked for themselves. If an organization was behind this scheme, all of Dillon’s fortune would have already been transferred to dummy trusts and offshore accounts and Marshall Dillon would have vanished without a trace. Besides, a crime group wouldn’t have asked Monica Staggs' cousin to find a hitman.

How many accomplices did they have? Probably not many. As they say, if two people know it, it’s not a secret. Monica’s cousin might be the only actual accomplice they had, and from the practical point of view that should be enough. Chances were no one but Staggs and the fake Dillon were privy to all the details of the conspiracy. In the past, there might have been one or two people more who knew what was going on, but one could bet Monica Staggs had made sure to take them out the picture.    

“Why do they want to kill me?” Hackett asked.

“Because you’re the only person known to have Marshall Dillon’s DNA. Besides, by killing you, Marshall’s only close relative, they eliminate any possibility of a legal battle for your father’s inheritance.”

“All this sounds so... bizarre.”

“Did you know that Dillon got into a car accident while he was in Italy? I believe they staged the accident so they could use the injuries as an explanation for the differences between the Dillon that left America and the one that came back. The car crash also gave the fake Dillon a reason to stop writing with his right hand.”

 Hackett lowered his eyes to the floor. “Is there a chance that Dad is still alive?” he finally asked.

“Slim to none. It would have been very risky for Monica and her friend to leave your father alive.”

“Honestly, this story is kind of hard to believe.”

What a polite man. This story was not
kind of
hard to believe. It was
really
hard to believe.

“I understand. This theory does sound a bit implausible, but it ties everything together and makes sense under the circumstances.”  

“What do I do now?”

“First of all, you need to be as careful and vigilant as possible. There’s a lot of money at stake, and those people won’t quit trying to kill you. As for the long term plan—I fully intend to put them both in jail.”

“How are you going to do it? They have huge resources. Do you have any hard proof that they killed my father?”

“No. Not yet. It’s going to be tough for sure. We have no body, no witnesses, no evidence—nothing. So I suggest we first prove that this Marshal Dillon is a fake. The problem is it’s not as simple as you might think.”  

“Why? Can’t we just compare my DNA to his?”

“It could work if they had no imagination. Unfortunately, they seem to be inventive enough to come up with a credible defense. Nothing prevents their lawyers from saying that you are not Marshall’s biological son, that your mother got pregnant from some other guy. They could claim that Marshall recognized you as his son out of love for your mother.”

Jeff knitted his eyebrows and nodded.

“How do you prove that Marshall Dillon is your biological father?” Miranda went on. “It’s going to be his word against yours.”

“So what’s your plan?”

“We need to find at least two or three more solid pieces of evidence that this man is an impostor. I’m working on one lead that could blow them out of the water, but it’s still up in the air. So right now let’s focus on confirming that we’re actually dealing with a fake.”

8.

“How is your investigation coming along?” Dillon asked.

They were sitting in Luigi’s Trattoria, an Italian restaurant four blocks from the police station. It was Miranda’s idea to talk about the Hackett case at lunch. He had given Dillon a choice of three locations: Luigi’s Trattoria, O’Shea’s Restaurant and Pub, and Golden Dragon Chinese Cuisine. Dillon was in the mood for Italian. Unlike a week ago, he had not complained about being pressed for time.   

“There is some progress,” Miranda replied.

“Do you have any questions for me?”

“I sure do. Just a couple of them.” Miranda took out her notepad from her jacket pocket and opened it. “Here’s what I’ve been thinking: what if the ultimate target was not your son, but you?”

“What do you mean? They want to kill me?”

“I think someone might be trying to get even with you by murdering your only son.”

"Dillon" immersed himself in thought. “Now that you said it, I suddenly realized it’s quite possible,” he finally said. “Many people will do anything to have their revenge. A wise man said that money can’t buy you friends, but it can get you a better class of enemy” Dillon laughed. “So what’s your plan of action?”

“I’d like you to make me a list of people with a grudge against you. Do you think such people exist?”

"Dillon" nodded. “Of course.” He began to drum his fingers on the table. “I’ll give you the list tomorrow or the day after tomorrow.”

“Excellent. Hopefully, we’re headed in the right direction with this.” 

Fifteen minutes later, they were finished with their meals, and “Dillon” offered to pay for both of them. Miranda didn’t object. As soon as they reached the door, a pair of plainclothes cops collected the glasses and the utensils “Dillon” had used during lunch. They weren’t looking to score some cool tableware; they were after “Dillon’s” saliva—a great source of DNA—which they expected to find on those objects. Miranda had elected to take an unorthodox route since asking “Dillon” for a DNA sample was a sure way to make the millionaire suspicious and put him on the alert. She had thought of pulling a few hairs from “Dillon’s” head, but figured this task would be too tricky to accomplish.

9.

The DNA test results didn't surprise Miranda: the person that was calling himself Marshall Dillon was not related to Jeff Hackett.

“Now we know for sure that my father has been replaced,” Hackett said after reading the DNA lab report. “Did you figure out how to prove it?”

Miranda shook her head. She had yet to find a weakness in Monica Staggs and her partner’s plan. Marshall Dillon had no other known relatives; the voice change could be explained by the car accident. Handwriting? Yes, forensic experts could authenticate the handwriting no matter which hand the person used to write the document in question, but no DA in the country would bring charges against a multimillionaire with a boatload of connections based on the discrepancies in the handwriting. Besides, how much genuine handwritten material was left there undestroyed? Perhaps not much. Realistically, signatures on business contracts were all they could count on. It would take an insane amount of luck to get Staggs and the fake Dillon convicted on evidence like that. 

“I’m still hopeful that we’ll find a way,” Miranda said. “And while we look for it, we need to make sure that Staggs and her friend don’t steal your father’s fortune. They might have already started liquidating his property and moving the cash to offshore accounts. Right now I see only one effective way to stop them from taking it all—freeze your father’s property. It’s a stopgap measure, but it will buy us some time.”

“How are you going to do it?”

“Tax evasion. Even big shots like Dillon are no match for the IRS.”

“I see.” 

“A good buddy of mine works for the IRS. He’s a trigger-happy guy. I’m sure he won’t mind helping us.”