Open Season for Murder (A Mac Faraday Mystery Book 10) (19 page)

When Mac stepped off the elevator into the lobby, he caught sight of Savannah giving Brian Gallagher a kiss on the cheek. A grin crossed the young man’s face before he wrapped an arm around her waist to pull her in for another kiss on the lips. In soft voices, they spoke to each other while he escorted her to the service elevator to go downstairs to the kitchen to begin her afternoon shift.

“I’m still trying to wrap my head around it,” Mac heard Betty Cosgrove, Savannah’s mother, say to him from her post behind the registration counter. When he turned to her, she explained, “If that maniac was stupid enough to believe Brian, he would have killed him as soon as he found out he was a poor college student with barely a penny to his name.”

“But Savannah would have been safe,” Mac said. “That was more important to Brian than his safety.”

Betty’s eyes were moist. “Like I said, I’m still trying to wrap my head around it. I would have done anything to save her, but I’m her mother. Brian has only known her a few weeks and he—” She stopped to swallow before saying in a husky voice, “I’m sorry, Mac.”

“Don’t you believe in love, Betty?”

“Used to,” she said. “But after getting your heart ripped out so many times, you lose hope.” She smiled at Brian Gallagher when he trotted past them on his way to Jeff Fleming’s office. The bounce in his step was unmistakable.

“Never lose hope, Betty,” Mac told her.

“I’m a middle-aged grandmother,” she replied, “living in a small condo with a daughter, granddaughter, and two cats.”

“Only grandmother I know who has legs that could stop traffic,” a distinguished male voice announced from behind Mac.

Betty’s face turned a bright red. After clearing her throat, she said in a formal tone, “Well, hello, Mr. York. I see you’ve returned for the summer season.”

“Have I missed one yet?” The tall, slender man with dark hair and gray at the temples reached across the reception desk to take Betty’s hand and kiss her fingertips.

Her mouth dropped open.

Seeing a dreamy look come to her eyes, Randolph York took her other hand and kissed that as well. His eyes met hers.

Slowly, she took in a deep breath.

When Mac saw Randolph York was clutching a small bouquet containing three white roses to his chest, he joked, “Oh, Randolph, I didn’t know you cared,” while reaching for the flowers.

“I don’t.” Randolph York snatched the flowers out of Mac’s reach and handed them across the reception desk to Betty. “It’s sad really—I’ll bet you a million dollars that within a matter of days, these poor flowers are going to die of an inferiority complex because, next to your beauty, they just can’t compete.”

While Mac tried not to mutter at the cheesy compliment, Betty gushed. “Oh, Mr. York, I bet you say that to all the grandmothers with great legs.”

“No, I don’t.”

The seriousness in his tone caused Betty to turn away from where she was admiring the bouquet of roses.

The billionaire’s sunny demeanor almost made Mac forget that he was Lindsey York’s father. Reminding himself, Mac shook his hand in a firm grasp. “Randolph, I’m sorry about your loss.”

Mac’s condolence prompted a gasp from across the desk. “Oh, my! That’s right! I forgot all about that.” Dropping the flowers, Betty rushed out from behind the desk to go through the office leading into the lobby.

“Thank you.” The billionaire sucked in a deep breath, which he let out. “Lindsey and I had been estranged for years. I knew the last time she walked out of rehab that this was how she was going to end up.”

Arriving out from behind the desk, Betty threw her arms around Randolph York. “I am so sorry, Mr. York!” She buried her face in his chest while holding him tight. “I can only imagine how terrible you feel about losing Lindsey. Would you believe I almost lost Savannah last night? Why, if anything had happened to her …” She let out a sob into his chest.

Randolph York wrapped his arms tightly around Betty while laying his head on top of hers. He was so tall that her head rested perfectly at his shoulder. “I really needed this hug.”

“If there is anything that I can do …” She started to pull away.

The expression on his face softening, Randolph York pulled her in and tightened his arms around her again. “Hold me,” he murmured.

“Of course.” She pressed her head against his shoulder.

The hug continuing beyond that of casual friends, Mac found himself feeling like a third wheel. Seeing no sign that they were going to part soon, he finally said in a soft voice, “I think he’s comforted now.”

Reminded of Mac’s presence, they parted as if hit by an electrical jolt. Flustered, Betty brushed her hand down Randolph York’s arm while offering one last expression of condolence before returning behind the registration desk to tend to the roses.

“I’m sure you have questions, Mac.” Randolph York forced a business-like tone to his voice. “So do I. Are you working with Chief O’Callaghan on the investigation?”

“Yes, I am,” Mac said. “Lindsey died here at my hotel—during the Diablo Ball.”

“Which she wrecked five years ago, too.” Randolph shook his head. “I am so sorry about that. If there’s anything—”

“Mr. York!” Jeff Ingles called out while rushing out of his office. He trotted down the length of the registration counter to clasp the distinguished guest’s hand into both of his. During the hotel manager’s offer of condolences on his loss, Mac noticed Brian Gallagher slip out of the office wing. Upon seeing Randolph York, the intern slipped past the group to head across the lobby. Casting a quick glance over his shoulder, he rushed out the front door.

Turning back to Jeff and Randolph York, Mac saw that the billionaire had also caught sight of the young intern hurrying away.

“Mr. York, if there is anything that we here at the Spencer Inn can do to help you through this difficult time,” Jeff offered.

“Well,” Randolph glanced across the reception desk. “It would really help if there was someone that I could talk to.”

“Why, of course.” Jeff gestured toward the restaurant. “I was about to go to lunch.”

Seeing Randolph York eying Betty, who was returning his grin, Mac cleared his throat. “I think it would be more beneficial for Mr. York if he talked to another parent. Since Betty has a daughter the same age as Lindsey, she may be better suited to sympathize with what Mr. York is going through.”

“But I just came back from lunch,” Betty said, “and Frank is on break …” She gazed pleadingly at Jeff.

Feeling all three pairs of eyes on him, Jeff finally offered to man the desk while Betty went on a second lunch break with their most influential hotel customer.

With a wide charming grin, Randolph York grasped Betty’s hand when she came out from behind the counter. “To think that it has only taken me a dozen years or so to finally get a lunch date with the most beautiful woman in Deep Creek Lake.”

Betty blushed.

Randolph York swallowed. “I’m sorry, Betty, if I’m embarrassing you. I’ve been so looking forward to—”

She slipped her hand into his. “No, Mr. York—”

“Call me Randolph.”

“Randolph.” Her smile filled her face. “It will be a pleasure to have lunch with you.”

While they walked away, Mac let his gaze drop to Betty’s famous legs—proudly displayed in four inch heels. Noting their long slender curves, he cocked his head to one side. The corner of his lips curled.
Nice, but no way are they in the same league as Archie’s.

As if he had read Mac’s thoughts, Jeff said, “She should insure those.”

Mac leaned across the desk to ask Jeff in a low voice, “It’s taken him how many years to ask her out?”

“Believe it or not,” Jeff replied. “A blind man can see their hormones screaming at each other. I wouldn’t be surprised if Betty wasn’t really the prime reason Mr. York comes back to Deep Creek Lake every season.”

“I noticed Brian hurrying out of here like he had a bus to catch,” Mac said.

“I sent him out to run an errand for me,” Jeff said quickly. “Why? Did you or David need him to answer any more questions? I thought he already gave his statement.”

Mac caught a glimpse of something he had never seen in Jeff’s demeanor before. It took a full moment for him to interpret the stern expression on the hotel manager’s face.

Defense. Jeff Ingles was ready to do battle in his intern’s defense. While Jeff considered the employees at the Spencer Inn to be one big family, Mac had never known the hotel manager willing to go up against him to defend one.

“No,” Mac replied. “I was curious because he seemed to be in such a hurry to get out of here as soon as Lindsey York’s father showed up. It was almost as if he didn’t want Randolph to see him here.”

“Brian left because I sent him. He has no reason to be avoiding Mr. York.” Jeff shook his head with a laugh.

“A witness told us that Brian and Lindsey had an argument last night, shortly before she ended up dead,” Mac said, “an argument which ended with you sending Brian home after Lindsey demanded that he be fired. Yet, when she went over that railing, Brian was standing right there at the top of the stairs.”

“Ah, the camera operator who was shooting up with Lindsey in the bathroom,” Jeff said. “Yes, that did happen as he said. I saw him recording the whole thing. What he didn’t record was what happened here at the desk after I left there.”

“What did happen here?”

“I caught up with Brian before he could leave and told him that I needed him here,” Jeff said. “I assured him that he was not fired and to continue working—just stay out of sight of Lindsey York.” He continued, “A couple minutes after that, a woman came up to the desk to report that there was a man in the ladies restroom.
I
sent Brian in to shoo him out. If I had known it was Lindsey in there, I would have gone in myself and it would have been me at the top of those stairs instead of Brian.”

“Lindsey seemed very determined to ruin Brian’s career here at the Inn,” Mac said. “Maybe you did send him into the ladies room, but once he got in there and had a couple of minutes alone with her—”

“You’re wrong this time, Mac.”

Chapter Eighteen

Like a couple of twins, David and Hector stood with their arms folded across their chests. In front of them, one of Hector’s security officers was examining footage captured from one of the many cameras placed around the Inn on a wide-screen computer monitor.

“You texted?” Mac called out to them when he hurried in.

His eyes on the computer screen, David nodded his head. “You have snot on your shirt.”

Snatching a tissue from a nearby desk, Mac said, “Rock Sinclair turned Riva’s whole world upside down.” As best he could, he wiped the nasal discharge from the front of his shirt. “You should have seen me when Christine decided to end it for another man. It was not my finest moment.”

“She wouldn’t be the first discarded first wife to kill off the competition in hopes of getting her husband back,” Hector said.

“I’m starting to bet on Rock for killing Jasmine,” David said. “He and Samuel Nash went over their statements before we got up to the room for a reason. Those two are hiding something. Maybe they both decided to get rid of Jasmine together. Samuel called the jail to get Riva released. Rock lured her up to the room—”

“Am I the only one thinking Jasmine’s murder is connected to Lindsey’s high dive off the top of the stair case,” Mac asked, “and that both of their murders trace back to Ashton’s murder and the phony invitations?”

Glancing around the resort’s security office, Mac took note of the officers monitoring the feeds from the multitude of security cameras placed around the resort. Some were running background checks. Since Mac had inherited the Spencer Inn, he had increased the security teams into what resembled a full fledge police force in an effort to ensure the safety of the hundreds, sometimes thousands, of well-heeled guests who visited the resort every day.

“What’s wrong?” Hector asked about the puzzled expression on his face.

“I feel like I’m missing something.”

“It’ll come to you,” Hector assured him. “It always does.”

David told Mac, “Doc gave us a time of death for Jasmine. She died between quarter to and quarter after one o’clock. COD is blunt force trauma at the base of the skull and a broken neck. There’s very little water in the lungs. She didn’t drown.”

Hector unfolded his arms to point over the officer’s shoulder. “Looks like Riva Sinclair is in the clear for killing Jasmine. She used her keycard to enter her room at twelve twenty-two and took a bottle of white wine from the mini bar at twelve twenty-five.”

“Twenty minutes before the kill zone.” David turned to Mac. “There’s more.”

“More?”

“The crime scene investigators found a listening device in Sinclair’s suite,” David said. “It was in the sitting room.”

“Have they been able to run a trace on it?” Mac asked.

“It was disabled when they found it,” David said. “It was a cheapo that you can pick up at any gadget store or order anywhere on the Internet. They’re running a trace for the serial number. If we’re lucky, whoever is behind it used a credit card—”

“I don’t think our guy is that sloppy,” Mac interjected. “We have phony invitations sent out to bring together all of the suspects in Ashton’s murder, notes luring bitter ex-wives to potential murder scenes, and now bugs in in the rooms of journalists digging into said murder.”

David nodded his head. “Something is really fishy here.”

“The common denominator is Ashton Piedmont’s murder,” Mac said.

“Don’t you think it’s weird,” Hector asked, “Riva says Rock Sinclair is impotent and refused to do anything about it, yet he’s cheating on her? Doesn’t add up if you ask me. Someone is lying. My vote is for the wife.”

“Sex is not always the primary motivation for cheating,” Mac said. “Most of the time, couples come together because they fulfill each other’s primary needs or desires. Granted, very often it is sex. But if you take sex out of the equation with Jasmine and Rock, then they both have other needs, which may or may not be more important to them than sex.”

“What’s more important than sex?” David muttered under his breath. In response to Mac’s glare, he asked, “Did I just say that out loud?”

With a shake of his head, Mac continued, “Jasmine was looking for someone with the power to advance her career and—”

“Rock Sinclair, with his huge ego, was looking for a beautiful trophy to have on his arm,” David concluded with a grin. “He wasn’t really trying very hard to hide his affair. He was flaunting it.”

“That kind of reminds me of something Robin used to say,” Hector said with a low laugh. “It’s the people who brag the loudest about their sex lives who usually have the biggest problems.”

“There might be some truth to that,” Mac said. “Riva claims Rock is already making deals for her to keep his impotency a secret in the divorce settlement. Now, he may have wanted Jasmine enough to bite the bullet and take medication, or maybe it’s a sexless affair. He makes her a star in exchange for her making him look like a big man with the ladies.”

Considering the possibilities, David mused, “If they’re having a sex-less affair, then who did Riva hear Jasmine having sex with in the tub? And if Jasmine was having sex with someone other than Rock … would he or would he not be jealous?”

“That’s something we need to ask him,” Mac said. “I have investigated murders where the husband was impotent and the wife was having sexual relations outside the marriage. The husband did not mind as long as the wife was discrete—so that no one would know about his problem.”

“The Inn has a few wives who regularly check in with their lovers exactly for that reason,” Hector told David in a low voice. “They actually put the charges for the resort on their husband’s credit cards. Everything is cool as long as no one knows.”

“So I need to ask Rock for more information about his equipment failure,” David grumbled.

“And the exclusivity agreement he had with Jasmine,” Mac said. “Riva went up to their room shortly
after
midnight—after someone sent her a note telling her to come up and she found the door open. I think that note was sent to get her on that floor and on the security video to put her at the scene at the time of Jasmine’s murder, which tells me this murder was planned—it was premeditated.”

Hector said, “Rock may have wanted Jasmine enough to bite the bullet and take the drugs, in which case he was the one who Riva heard in the tub with Jasmine.”

Slowly, Mac shook his head. “If he did, then it’s highly unlikely that he would have been slept through Jasmine’s murder—depending on when he took the drugs.” Seeing questioning glances from both David and Hector, he asked, “Do either of you read? The basic principle of all those drugs is the same. They increase the heart rate to pump blood to the extremities to cause the erection. That’s why they have strict warnings about taking them if you have a heart condition. Those pills don’t turn on and off like a switch. If Rock took one of those drugs after they got back to the room, he would have been up for hours—in more ways than one. He would have been awake to hear Jasmine get into the tub and hear her murder.”

David said, “So he must have been in the tub with Jasmine when Riva walked in. He could have killed her.”

“Why send that note to Riva to come up to their suite?” Mac asked.

“Like you just suggested,” Hector said, “to set her up. Everyone saw her attack and threaten them. Makes her the perfect patsy.”

“Nah,” Mac said.

“Nah what?” David asked.

“Nah,” Mac said, “something is really fishy about all of these murders.” He gestured at David. “You need to question Rock Sinclair again.”

The police chief cringed. “I’ll confront Rock Sinclair about his impotency and …” The vibration of his cell phone on his hip was a welcomed interruption. “It’s Chelsea.”

“We’re investigating three murders.” Mac turned to Hector when David pressed a finger to his ear and turned away to listen to his fiancée. “This is no time to be sensitive about the cheating liar’s feelings about his equipment failure.”

“Tell us how you really feel about Rock Sinclair,” Hector said with a grin. “You really don’t like cheaters, do you, Mac?”

“Nope.”

David hung up the phone. “Chelsea found a wedding gown.”

“Great,” Mac said.

“It’s only going to cost an arm and a leg and a kidney.”

“How about if we take your mind off your upcoming nuptials by looking for the poison that killed Lindsey York?” Mac suggested.

“I told the cleaning staff not to touch anything in the ballroom or the special events kitchen,” Hector said. “So we can start there.”