The Murders at Astaire Castle (A Mac Faraday Mystery) (14 page)

Mac looked over the uneaten food on the table. “How much do you want to bet that our shooter killed her to steal her clothes and ID to get access to Hollister’s breakfast to murder him?”

Chapter Fourteen

“Jeff, you were there,” Mac reminded the hotel manager. “I didn’t touch him. Even when he was dying, I never laid a hand on Hollister. So this wasn’t my fault.”

“No, Mac.” Jeff patted him on the arm. “I know it’s not your fault.”

Relieved that Jeff didn’t blame him for Raymond Hollister’s death and the resulting chaos at the resort, Mac grinned.

“It’s your karma.” With a shrug of his shoulders, Jeff wiped his face with his sweat-soaked handkerchief. He eyed a media van that cruised by the front entrance. “You inherited it from Robin Spencer. It’s in your DNA. Wherever you go, trouble follows.”

They watched a string of crime scene investigators, clad in jackets with
FORENSICS
emblazoned across the back, gather in front of the elevators. Bewildered-looking guests stepped off the elevator before half of the group stepped on to go up. The rest boarded the next elevator to go down to the garage.

Jeff sighed deeply. “If you’ll excuse me, Mac, I need to go call my therapist.” With a dazed look in his eyes, he went back to his office.

From the opposite hallway leading back to the security offices, Hector came jogging out. By the bounce in the security manager’s step, Mac could see that he had good news. “We got the bitch’s picture,” Hector said. “One of the security cameras on Hollister’s floor picked her up getting off the elevator with the room service cart, and then another camera picked her up wearing Sue’s uniform after using her access card to enter the employee section of the Inn.”

“I want to see it.” Mac checked the time on the clock over the registration desk. It was quarter after eight o’clock. “What time did she take breakfast up to Hollister?”

“Forty-two minutes ago,” Hector said. “It’s optimistic to think so, but I sent out the picture to all of our security people’s phones. They’re searching the Inn, out-buildings and grounds. Maybe we’ll get lucky. I sent her picture to your phone, too.”

Mac took his cell phone off his belt to check the picture. She was a plain looking woman with short dark blonde hair. Her features were thin, almost gaunt looking.

Seeing the cell phone in his hand, Mac was reminded of something Raymond Hollister had said the day before—a reason why he wanted to wait before telling them the name of the killer. Mac studied the face of Hollister’s killer without seeing it.

Noticing the blank expression on Mac’s face, Hector asked, “What is it? Do you know her?”

“Hollister told us he had to make a phone call,” Mac said. “Yesterday, when David and I questioned him, he told us that he would make a couple of phone calls and then he would give us the name of our killer. That’s why he was killed.” He turned toward the elevator. “We need to check his phone records to find out who he called after talking to us.”

The elevator doors opened and Bogie stepped out. “What’s the saying? Everything happens in three?”

“We’ve had our three and then some,” Hector said.

“Not today,” Bogie replied.

“Yes, we did.” Mac ticked off on his fingers. “David was shot. One of my servers was murdered and Hollister was poisoned.”

“I was counting the server and Hollister as one,” Bogie said, “since the killer took her out to get to Hollister.”

“A murder two-fer?” Mac asked. “I hope the jury that convicts our killer doesn’t see it as that because I don’t, and I don’t think Sue’s family will see it that way either.”

They paused to listen to the increasing sound of the fire engine sirens approaching the Spencer Inn.

“What’s that?” Mac asked.

Jeff Ingles came running out of his office. “Now what?” He glared at Mac. “What did you do now?”

“Fire engines,” Bogie said. “Call came in while I was upstairs. Astaire Castle is on fire.”

Warning her to be careful of the hot coffee that she had poured in the hospital cafeteria, Archie handed the takeout cup to Chelsea and eased into the chair next to her. Picking up on her master’s concern, Molly’s brown eyes in her white face reflected worry. The German shepherd was almost invisible where she lay motionless at Chelsea’s feet in the waiting room.

Nothing like Gnarly. Even when Gnarly is being still and good, everyone notices him. Maybe it’s his stare and size that commanded attention.
The red smears of blood stood out against Molly’s white coat to remind Archie about what had happened.
So much blood.

“You and I must be the same size.” Archie noted that the fresh clothes she had brought for Chelsea to change into, fit her perfectly—maybe a bit loose. Covered in David’s blood, Chelsea’s running jacket and suit had been taken into evidence along with David’s clothes.

“It isn’t every day that I meet women my age who are my size,” Chelsea said. “In school, I was embarrassed about how small I was. Now, women envy me.”

“Things have a way of sorting out.” Archie took a sip of her coffee.

“Did you ever date David?”

“No.” Archie saw that she was studying her for her response. She looked right into her eyes so that she could see she was telling her the truth.

“It’s okay if you did,” Chelsea said. “I was just wondering. A lot of my friends had crushes on him back when we were in school. He never knew it, though. Only Katrina had the bad form to act on it. The only reason she seduced David was to prove she could. That was who she was. She played with people like they were toys. I think she was the closest I ever came to hating anyone.” She sighed. “I wonder what ever became of her.”

“She was murdered,” Archie said in a matter-of-fact tone.

Chelsea almost jumped out of her chair. “I have an alibi.”

“You don’t know when or where or how it happened.” Archie giggled at her reaction.

“Doesn’t matter. I know I have an alibi.”

Archie patted her hand. “Her murder was solved and the case closed. So you don’t have to worry.”

Chelsea sighed with relief.

Deep in their respective thoughts, the two women and dog sat next to each other, staring straight ahead without seeing anything before them.

Chelsea broke the silence. “Do you remember your first time?”

“I think every woman does,” Archie said.

“I’ve read in so many places and heard so many people say that it was never what they had expected,” Chelsea said. “They were disappointed.” She shook her head. “David … even when our relationship was ending—” She hung her head. “He had a way of making it magical. It was special for both of us. I was convinced it had to do completely with how much we were in love with each other.” Her expression changed from dreamy to realistic. She sat up straight. “But that’s the way it is with first love. You have all these cloudy memories about how fabulous it was. Too bad you can’t go back to those naive, idealistic times, huh?”

“Who says you can’t?”

“The dew is gone from the rose, Archie,” she said. “There’s no going back.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“David has a very special place in my heart, not just as my first love.” Chelsea sniffed. “For some reason, he was able to understand Riley. As different as the two of them were, most friends would have gone their separate ways. David became popular—as popular as you could be, living in Spencer without money. Riley withdrew from everyone and got all wrapped up in horror books and movies. He read every one of Damian Wagner’s books over and over again, and knew everything there was to know about werewolves.”

“How ironic that he decided he was a werewolf,” Archie said, “and made his den at the castle where the master in horror and paranormal was working on his last book.”

“You don’t think Riley killed Damian because he was obsessed with him, do you?”

“Do you?” Archie asked.

“I really don’t know.” She hung her head over the cup of coffee. “I couldn’t see even an ounce of the brother I used to know in that creature we saw yesterday.”

“David and Mac said the MO of the murders doesn’t fit with Riley believing he’s a werewolf.”

“Wolf Man,” Chelsea corrected Archie. “There’s a difference.”

“Whatever,” Archie replied.

“Riley would say that was important,” Chelsea said. “That was all I heard about when we were growing up. Riley made everyone sick of it. His friends started drifting away one by one. Even though David never had any interest in any of that, he didn’t abandon Riley. He still kept coming around.” A soft grin crossed her face. “I convinced myself that he was coming to see me.”

“I have no doubt but that he was,” Archie said.

“By the time we were in high school, David was his only friend. He stood by Riley when no one else would—even me, I’m sorry to say.”

“David is a good man.” Archie squeezed her hand. “He’s also very strong. He’s going to make it through this.”

Chelsea squeezed her hand back.

When the doctor turned the corner to come into the waiting room, the women rose to their feet in unison. Even Molly stood up to hear the news.

“You’re here for Police Chief David O’Callaghan?” Not knowing which woman to address, the doctor looked from one to the other and back again.

“Yes.” Archie felt Chelsea squeezing her hand so tight that her knuckles hurt.

“He’s out of surgery,” the doctor said. “We stopped the bleeding. He was very lucky. The bullet went through his side without hitting any organs. Barring any complications, he should recover completely and be released in a couple of days.”

Chelsea closed her eyes. “Thank you, God,”’ she said out loud while still clutching Archie’s hand.

Archie was beginning to lose the feeling in her fingers. “When can we see him?”

“He’s in post-op right now,” the doctor reported. “In a couple of hours, we’ll be moving him into a private room. You can see him then.”

“I need to call Mac.” Archie extracted her hand from Chelsea’s and flexed her fingers to regain the feeling in them to dial her phone.

Mac gave Bogie a thumbs-up sign at the news.

Even with her on speaker phone, it was difficult to hear Archie over the cruiser’s siren while they raced across the mountain behind the parade of fire engines heading for Astaire Castle. The smoke was getting heavier as they approached.

“We’ll keep a couple of our guys attached to his butt to make sure he stays that way,” Bogie yelled loud enough for Archie to hear.

“Any idea yet about who did this?” she asked.

“Whoever it is, they’re covering their tracks very well,” Mac told her after updating her on Raymond Hollister’s murder.

“It almost seems like a professional hit to me,” Hector said from where he was in the back seat of Bogie’s cruiser.

“David had worked in special forces in the Marines.” Bogie swerved off the road to where the terrain was smoother. “Maybe it’s payback for something he did overseas.”

“But why Hollister?” Mac asked. “David says he never met Hollister until yesterday.”

“David was out of country when the Wagner murders happened,” Bogie said.

“The only connection David had with the Wagners was a fling with Genevieve,” Hector said with an evil chuckle. “Maybe our killer is a ghost scorned.”

“Which brings us back to ‘why kill Raymond Hollister?’” Mac asked.

Archie reminded them that she was on the other end of the cell phone. “Mac, I have to go. When you get a chance, can you run by the manor and let Gnarly out?”

“Why can’t he let himself out?”

“Because you get mad at him when he does,” she shot back before hanging up.

It was a good thing she had. The roar of the fire company’s helicopter swooping in to douse the flames would have drowned her voice out.

One of Spencer’s most dependable and youngest officers, Officer Fletcher, flagged them down when they pulled up to the gate. “Any word on the chief?”

“He’s going to be fine,” Bogie said. “They patched him up and expect him to be out of the hospital in a couple of days.”

“All right!” Fletcher pumped his fist into the air.

“How bad is it?” Bogie gestured toward the smoke pouring up into the sky from on the other side of the stone wall.

“Not as bad as we first thought,” Fletcher said. “Two vehicles were torched along with the ground floor of the castle. You can smell the gasoline. A tourist helicopter spotted it and called it in before it spread to take out the mountain.”

“Two vehicles?” Bogie asked. “What vehicles?”

Fletcher shrugged. “A sedan and a Mercedes SUV.” He frowned. “But it gets weirder.”

“Can’t be any weirder than what we’ve already run into,” Bogie said.

“What is it, Fletcher?” Mac asked.

“Two DBs,” Fletcher said. “Two dead bodies inside the castle.”

Bogie looked straight ahead out the windshield. “This is a record. Four murders and one attempted murder in Spencer in less than four hours.”

The deputy chief parked the cruiser on the outside of the wall to allow room for the fire engines to get full access to the castle and grounds. Mac was the first one through the gates. The stone walls had protected the structure very well. Unfortunately, it did little to protect the grounds or the two vehicles parked in front of the abandoned fountain. The sedan and SUV were only smoldering shells of what they had been.

“Is that a late model Cutlass?” Mac asked Bogie what he already knew.

Fletcher came up behind them. “The fire didn’t destroy the plate on the Mercedes. We ran it and it’s registered to Gould Enterprises.”

“Gould as in Stan Gould?” Mac felt the color draining from his face.

“I don’t know.”

“Any ID on the victims?” Bogie asked.

“Burnt beyond recognition,” Fletcher said. “We’re going to need DNA or dental records to ID them.”

“What time was the fire spotted?” Mac asked.

Officer Fletcher checked his notes on his table. “It was called in at eight-minutes after eight.”

His eyes narrowing in thought, Mac turned to Bogie and Hector. “David was shot around six-thirty. Sue was killed a little after seven o’clock. Hollister was poisoned quarter-til-eight. This fire was started shortly after eight o’clock.”

“Our killer is having a busy day,” Hector said.

“Let’s hope they’re done.”