Open Season for Murder (A Mac Faraday Mystery Book 10) (7 page)

His job done, Gnarly trotted several feet away and sat down. His tall ears standing erect, he cocked his head to observe the police chief visually examining the grave.

“Ashton!” Carlisle fell on her knees to dig with her bare hands.

Mac pulled her back. “Don’t touch it. It’s evidence.”

“But it has to be Ashton!” Carlisle looked over her shoulder and pointed. “Her house is only right over there. This is practically her backyard.” Her sorrow turned to anger. “She didn’t
drown
. She was
murdered
and buried here!”

“There’s nothing you can do for her now,” Mac said.

“Yeah, but there’s something you can do,” Carlisle said. “Find her killer … even if it’s me. I want to know if I killed my best friend.”

Chapter Seven

“If Ashton didn’t drown, how did she die?” Carlisle Green offered a bottled water to Mac, who accepted the refreshment with a thank you.

“Hopefully, there’s enough evidence that the medical examiner or forensics people will be able to find out.”

Mac had suggested that Carlisle take him inside her home for two reasons. One, he felt it would be easier emotionally for her if she didn’t have to watch her friend’s body being dug up. Also, being alone, he would have a chance to question her about the last week before Ashton Piedmont had disappeared and, obviously, been killed.

Opening the bottled water, Mac took in the interior of the uniquely designed round house. The interior walls were a mixture of stone and cedar. Floor to ceiling windows provided a gorgeous view from every angle. When they have driven up to the round house, Mac was curious about how the home would be furnished since furniture is usually rectangle. He was surprised to discover that the kitchen’s granite counters were indeed curved to fit the wall—as was the rest of the furnishings. The staircase leading up to the second level, where Mac assumed the bedrooms were located, curved along the wall. In the very center of the house the second floor was open to provide an opening to a skylight in the center of the roof.

Unlike his home, Spencer Manor, which rested at the tip of a strip of land that projected out into the lake, the Green estate and neighboring homes were tucked away in a scenic yet secluded section of the lake not frequented by tourists. The cove was wide and deep enough for the residents to enjoy their privacy while taking advantage of the water sports. If Mac squinted, he could just barely make out Spencer Point on the other side of Glendale Bridge.

The Green mansion was the perfect mixture of luxury and rustic charm. Ellery Green had been a die-hard angler who loved nature—judging by several large fish mounted on the walls. A chandelier made up of deer antlers and numerous original oil paintings of nature scenes from around the lake by local artists whose names Mac recognized added to the well-to-do—yet woodsey—feel. Worn leather furniture completed the rustic decor. A layer of dust that covered the hardwood floor and several pieces of furniture was evidence of the home’s vacant status.

“Did you receive an invitation to the Diablo Ball this year?” While taking a drink from his bottle, Mac watched for her reaction out of the corner of his eye.

“An invitation I couldn’t refuse,” Carlisle said over her shoulder from the front foyer. She stood on her toes and cocked her head to watch the crime scene examiners and police collecting their cases and equipment from their vehicles. David was waiting at the edge of the path to lead them on the hike through the woods to where her best friend’s decomposed body rested in the dirt and rotten branches and leaves.

Equally curious, Gnarly stood on his hind legs with his front paws resting on the window sill. He pressed his nose against the window to peer out. Occasionally, he would bark at a passing investigator.

“Explain.” Mac tried to divert her attention from the happenings outside the window.

“Jasmine Simpson somehow got ahold of my cell phone number,” Carlisle said. “Believe it or not, I am able to get a signal in the villages where I work. They can’t get clean water, but we mission workers can get 4G on our cell phones. So, she calls and, in this sweet as sugar voice, says she’s doing an investigative report on Ashton Piedmont’s disappearance for an in-depth journalist program and would I consent to an interview. I told her I had no interest in coming back to the States. That was when she dropped the sweetie pie mask and her claws came out.”

“She needed you for the report because you were the last person to see Ashton alive.”

Carlisle nodded her head. “She told me that if I didn’t come, that they would put the focus on me as the killer and put pressure on the prosecutor to issue an extradition order to have me brought back to the States. Since I was the last one to see her, and I honestly don’t know—”

“Have you ever gotten violent when you were drunk?” Mac asked her.

She shrugged her shoulders. “Not that I know of. I was always told that I was a fun, sexy drunk.”

“I’ll ask Chief O’Callaghan.” Mac said, “Their threat seems kind of lame to me. You have the money and means to have fought Sinclair and Jasmine. I’m thinking you gave in rather easily because you do want to know the truth.”

“You’re a smart man, Mr. Faraday,” she said. “That’s why I lured you into the case.”

“Tell me about our suspects.” Mac led her into the living room.

“I didn’t really know them,” she said. “Sure, I’d socialize with them during the season. Most of them lived here around Millionaire’s Cove.”

“Millionaire’s Cove?”

“You never heard Millionaire’s Cove?” Upon seeing the shake of his head, she explained, “That’s what the locals here in Deep Creek Lake call this cove because most everyone who lives around here are millionaires. Grandpa was a self-made billionaire.”

“And you hung out with Ashton and her friends—”

“I wouldn’t call any of them my friends,” Carlisle said. “But we weren’t enemies either. After Labor Day, I’d go to Arizona or travel elsewhere to hang out. Ashton’s friends were all college kids, and I didn’t go to college. Plus, they were a few years older than me. They only let me hang around or they hung out here because I always had booze, pot, and other recreational toys for them to enjoy.” She uttered a wicked laugh. “No one threw a party better than me. Just ask O’Callaghan. I don’t know how many times he had to come out to break up my parties because the neighbors called the police. Probably at least once every weekend.”

“A.J. Wagner was Ashton’s boyfriend.” Mac asked. “How serious were they?”

“Really serious,” Carlisle said. “They especially bonded after A.J.’s father died. She had lost her grandfather only a few months before, so they leaned on each other.” A solemn expression came to her face. “They always did have a thing for each other.”

She giggled. “If you’re looking for someone who hated Ashton—”

“That would be good place to start.”

“Rachel Breckenridge,” she said. “Never did like her. She always acted like she was better than me.” She shrugged. “She was right, but she didn’t need to be snooty about it.”

“Her mother—”

“She was a big wig at the university where A.J’s father was president,” Carlisle said. “I assume she still is. Ashton’s grandfather was her mentor. Rachel and Ashton grew up together. I remember they used to hang out together—somewhat—but whatever friendship they had dissolved when A.J. came into the picture.”

“Isn’t it funny how women’s friendships end when a man enters the picture?” Mac noted with a grin.

“Tell me about it,” Carlisle said in agreement.

“Then Rachel Breckenridge wanted A.J. Wagner for herself,” Mac said.

Carlisle nodded her head. “She and Ashton were pretty chilly towards each other that last summer.”

“But Rachel was Corey’s date at the Diablo Ball,” he said.

Saying nothing, Carlisle shrugged her shoulders while holding up her hands.

Leaning forward, Mac rested his elbows on his knees. “Anyone else in Ashton’s life who maybe could have been jealous of her and A.J. getting together?”

“Greaser,” Carlisle said quickly.

“Greaser?” Mac repeated.

“I never met him,” Carlisle said. “Ashton knew him from school. He met her through Jasmine, who lived in Ashton’s dorm. Greaser fell hard for Ashton—”

“That’s who I’m looking for,” Mac said. “Why was he called Greaser?”

“Because he dyed his hair jet black. Ashton said he always looked greasy. I was the one who came up with the name Greaser. Ashton had too much class to tell me his real name. She didn’t want to make fun of him.”

“I don’t suppose you know what happened to Greaser?” Mac asked. “Even if you hadn’t met him …”

“People, places, and things,” Carlisle said with a shake of her head and a wave of her hand. “I left that whole world behind a long time ago. That’s one of the main reasons I didn’t want to leave the jungles of Africa. Less temptation there.”

Seeing the concern for her sobriety in her eyes, Mac felt a tug of sympathy for her. “If you ever need someone to talk to—”

His sensitive ears picking up the footsteps on the back deck, Gnarly whirled around from the window to race to the door to greet David when he came in. “Doc’s here,” he said in reference to the medical examiner. “My deputy chief, Bogie, and the crime scene people have marked off the whole clearing and are searching for what they can.”

“Considering that it’s been five years …” Mac said.

Not holding out much hope for clues to Ashton’s killer being found in the area around her grave, they exchanged glances.

David broke the silence. “Doc needs to get the body back to the morgue for a thorough exam, but we did find several fractures on her skull. Upper right side of the skull. It’s very possible she died from blunt force trauma to the head.”

“In other words,” Carlisle said, “someone bashed her head in. Like in a drunken fit of rage?”

David’s eyes locked with hers. “Very possibly.”

“And then she dragged Ashton’s body all the way down the path and over the hill to that clearing to bury her in a shallow grave,” Mac said.

“You just saw how Carlisle hoisted that chainsaw and climbed up and down that tree like a monkey,” David said.

“Could she have done that five years ago?” Mac asked.

“No,” David said with a sigh before turning his attention back to Carlisle. “Were you missing a blue tarp back then?”

In silence, she stared at them. Mac could practically see the wheels turning behind her eyes before she answered in a slow steady tone, “I think … now that you mention it … there was a blue tarp that I used to cover the firewood to keep it dry from the rain. I remember noticing it was missing shortly before I left here.” She shook her head. “I had so many blackouts back then, I don’t remember when I noticed it was gone. It could have been before Ashton disappeared.”

“You said you recall two women arguing,” David reminded her. “A woman screaming—”

“But it wasn’t Ashton screaming,” Carlisle said. “This woman had a lower voice—gravely.”

“You remember hearing, but not seeing them?” Mac asked her.

“A lot of that evening is in a fog,” she said.

Mac gestured for her to sit down in the living area. “Okay, how about if we do this? Let’s go back to the beginning.”

After inviting David to sit down, Mac went behind the counter in the kitchen. “Forget we’re the police and we’re just sitting around having a nice chat about the last time you were here.” He yanked open the refrigerator door. “I assume you don’t have beer.”

“I have green iced tea,” she said. “Unsweetened.”

“You really have changed,” David noted.

“I’m totally vegan now,” she said. “No processed food, meat, dairy or sugar. I don’t even take aspirin. Only homeopathic medicine.”

Having found the ice, Mac poured a glass of iced tea and brought it into the living room, where he handed the glass to her. He took a seat across from her.

“Now just relax,” he said while she sipped the tea. “The last time you were here in Deep Creek Lake. You got into town and you caught up with your good friend Ashton. Imagine that we’re a couple of good friends, we’re just sitting around having drinks.” He held up his bottled water in a toast, tapped it against her glass, and took a sip. “Tell us about your good friend Ashton. You said you and the gang from here on the lake didn’t see each other off season, so, tell us about when you saw her for the first time that last season. How was she? Did she have any big news about anything?”

Carlisle took a deep sigh. She fell back against the seat. Staring at the wall behind them, she brought her fingers to her mouth and bit down on her thumbnail. “She was mad about something,” she mumbled around the thumb clinched between her teeth.

David pounced. “What?”

Meeting David’s eyes, she pulled her thumb out of her mouth. “I don’t know. Back then, I only cared about my next binge.” She brought her fingers back to her mouth. Cursing, she placed her hand under her thigh. “Nervous habit,” she mumbled.

Mac noticed that, unlike any of the other pampered rich women in Spencer, Carlisle’s fingernails were dirty, chipped, and some were bitten down to the quick.

She continued, “Ashton could have told me exactly what she was mad about and I wouldn’t have paid any—”

“Forget about that,” Mac interjected. “Tell us what you do remember.”

“She was going through her grandfather’s things in the lake house,” Carlisle recalled with a shrug. “Maybe she found out a dirty family secret about her father.” She sighed. “I really wasn’t part of that crowd with all of their drama and all that.”

“What type of drama?” Mac asked in a casual tone.

“Who was hooking up with whom?” Carlisle replied. “Ashton and A.J. were especially tight that summer. I expected them to announce they were getting married or were married.” She cocked her head. “Now I remember. Those two were really secretive—getting together at Ashton’s place. I assumed it was sex or they were planning to elope. They were definitely up to something.”

Mac said, “Depending on what that secret was, maybe that’s what got her killed.”

“Carlisle doesn’t strike me as the hell-raiser you described,” Mac commented with a grin when he and David, with Gnarly trotting ahead, went around the outside of the round house to return to David’s cruiser.

The driveway was filled with law enforcement vehicles, including the medical examiner and crime scene investigators.

“That’s not the same woman I used to arrest for drunk and disorderly back five years ago,” David said.

“I believe that.”

“I don’t,” David said.

“Don’t you believe that people can change?”

“One-hundred and eighty degrees? She’s a vegan!”

Mac’s wordless response was a shrug of his shoulders. “Nothing wrong with that. If it works for her …”

“You never met the old Carlisle,” David said.

“No, I didn’t,” Mac said. “But I have investigated numerous murder cases in which the killer, in the past, was the sweetest most stable guy or woman you would ever meet. And then, something happened. Usually it was drugs or booze. Addiction has a way of transforming someone—changing them.”

David was nodding his head in agreement. “I’ve met more than one guy like that. The wrong type of woman can change a good man pretty fast.”

“And the wrong man can do the same to a good woman,” Mac said. “So … if something or someone can do a one hundred and eighty degree transformation for the bad to a good person, why is it so unbelievable that a person can’t do a complete turnaround to the good?”

“Chief O’Callaghan?”

The call of David’s name drew their attention to the end of the driveway where an older man with thin gray hair and flabby jowls gestured for their attention.

“Who’s that?” Mac asked David while holding the rear door open for Gnarly to jump into the back of the cruiser.

“Parker Lander. Carlisle’s neighbor.” David approached the man watching them a questioning expression on his face.

“What’s going on?” the older man asked. “Did Carlisle have an overdose?”

David shook his head. “The decomposed body of a woman was found in the woods between the Green and Piedmont properties.”

Parker Lander’s small eyes grew wide. His mouth hung open. “Ashton?”

“The body hasn’t been identified.” Feeling someone approaching behind him, David turned to see Mac joining them.

Parker blurted out, “I told you about Carlisle and Ashton fighting when she disappeared how many years ago.”

“Why would Carlisle kill her?” Mac asked.

Instead of answering, Parker looked Mac up and down.

“This is Mac Faraday.” David introduced the two men. “He works on contract with our police department on homicide investigations.”

“Well,” Parker said, “the night Ashton disappeared, she and Carlisle were drinking and probably doing some other stuff, too. They started fighting like a couple of hellions.”

“What were they fighting about?” Mac asked.

“I have no idea,” Parker said. “It was late, like eleven or so, and suddenly all hell broke loose. My wife was threatening to call the police and I didn’t want to make things worse.” He asked David, “You remember how Gloria could be.”

Being diplomatic, David cleared his throat. “She could be difficult.”

Parker snorted. “You always were too kind, O’Callaghan.”

“If she’s so difficult, why did you marry her?” Mac blurted out.

“She got knocked up, that’s why. Now I am a free man,” Parker said with a grin.

“Divorced?” David asked.

“She’s dead.”

Each one trying to decide how best to respond, Mac and David exchanged glances.

“A little over a year ago.” Parker Lander broke the awkward silence. “Gloria took a header down the stairs and broke her neck.”

“I’d say I was sorry for your loss, but I can see you’re not in mourning,” Mac said in a deadpan tone.

“It is what it is,” Parker said, “Gloria was—”

“Difficult,” David interjected.

“Can you get back to the night Ashton disappeared?” Mac urged him back on topic.

Parker extracted a handkerchief from his pants pocket. While mopping his sweaty face and flabby jowls with his left hand, he tugged up on his pants to cover his tubby belly. “I came over to break up that fight between those two so that Gloria wouldn’t call the police and start another battle with Carlisle—only she turned on me.”

“Gloria turned on you?” Mac asked.

“Carlisle.” Parker turned to David. “You saw the scratches. I really hate bringing this up again.” He told Mac, “My wife insisted that I tell the police about Carlisle attacking me back when Ashton disappeared. She scratched me up on my arms and neck and even my face.”

“Why did you leave if Carlisle was so out of control?” Mac asked.

“I was scared for my own safety.”

“In which case,” Mac said, “you would have been concerned for Ashton’s safety. So why didn’t you call the police?”

“They were both drunk and out of control,” Parker said. “They did it to themselves and were on their own property. As long as they weren’t out on the road, I figured let them be. Things were bad enough between Carlisle and Gloria as it was. Why make things worse?” He pointed at the round house. “She was living right next door. This is our summer place—our vacation home. The last thing you want on your vacation is two women screaming at each other from the docks.”

“In other words,” Mac said, “you just didn’t want to get involved.”

Parker shook his yellowed handkerchief at Mac. “Hey! I came over here. I was coming over here all the time trying to keep the peace. I couldn’t win no matter what I did. If I did nothing, then I got it from the old biddie at home. So I’d come over here, trying to help those poor girls out by keeping Gloria off their backs—trying to do them a favor—and what did I get for it?” He stuck out his chin. “She had the nerve to call me a pervert!”

“Who called you a pervert?” Mac asked.

For a long moment, Parker glared at the detective. He turned to the police chief to see that he, too, wanted an answer. “They were out here swimming around with no clothes on and I happened to see them. If they didn’t want that type of attention, then they shouldn’t have taken off all their clothes.” With an exasperated sigh, Parker shoved the handkerchief into his pants pocket.

“Thank you, Mr. Lander,” Mac replied.

“It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to crack this case,” Parker said to Mac’s back when he went back to the car. “Carlisle Green killed Ashton Piedmont. Mark my words! Carlisle did it and I’ll testify to it in court!”