Death Comes to Main Street (The Paul Monroe Mysteries Book 3)

by Felice Stevens

  “And yet you opened the Wild Orchid a year and a half ago,” Paul pointed out, watching his reaction carefully.

  Cartwright’s smile faltered, only momentarily, but enough for Paul to note. “Detectives, I saw an opportunity and a need. The body might slow down, but the brain is always busy.”

  “How was business? The place was full that night.”

  “It was good. Packed every night. We had to turn people away.”

  “So you’re planning to reopen, then?” Rob asked. “From what we heard, the damage wasn’t tremendous.”

  “No. No plans.”

  They waited for more of a response, but when nothing else was forthcoming, he and Rob exchanged glances and rose from their seats.

  “Thank you, Mr. Cartwright. If we need anything else, we’ll be in touch.”

  “My pleasure, Detectives. Always willing to help out law enforcement to keep our cities safe. I was a heavy contributor to the LAPD, and I plan on meeting with the mayor and your police chief to see how I can help here in Thornwood Park.”

  As Cartwright spoke, an idea formulated in Paul’s mind, but he wanted to go back to the station to check it out before saying anything.

  “Thank you, and we’ll talk soon.”

  The door clicked behind them, and in silent agreement, he and Rob didn’t speak as they waited in the hushed hallway by the elevator banks. Bright sunlight greeted them when they exited the building.

  “What do you think?” Rob asked.

  Once inside the car, Paul turned on the air conditioner full blast. If the heat continued, maybe he and Cliff could take a ride to the beach during the weekend.

  “I think Mackenzie Cartwright is a sneaky little bastard.”

  Rob chuckled as they pulled onto the street and drove toward the station. “You notice the subtle way he let us know he was going to be rubbing elbows with the big brass? I never appreciate that kind of threat.”

  “Oh, hell, that wasn’t subtle,” Paul answered. “He let us know he has power. But I have some things I want to look up. Something doesn’t feel right about our new friend.”

  “Yeah. I picked up on those cues as well.”

  Every day Paul thanked the powers that be for giving him a partner and friend like Rob.

  “What are your thoughts?”

  “I’m not buying the whole ‘I moved to Thornwood Park to retire’ and then pow. As soon as he does, he’s back in business.”

  “And why not rebuild? If it’s as packed as he says, it should be a moneymaker. Maybe I’m just a small-town cop, but if he’s got so much money…and I remember Chris saying when we interviewed him that the boss is never around, just collects the money. To me, it’s a no-brainer. Rebuild and keep collecting the moola.”

  “Yeah. Unless”—Rob pulled into the precinct’s parking lot—“he’s not as rich as he wants us to believe.”

  Paul grinned. “I was thinking that myself. Vegas equals gambling; gambling equals losing money. Lots of it, if he goes as often as he says he does.”

  Eager to test their theory, they hopped out of the car and hustled into the station house. The receptionist waved them over when they walked inside.

  “Hey, you two. Kraft wants to talk to you. He’s on the phone but said for you to wait.”

  They cooled their heels outside his office, but Paul already knew. Someone had made a phone call.

  “Go ahead, guys. He’s ready for you.”

  Rob knocked and hearing the gruff, “Enter,” opened the door. Kraft beckoned them. “Sit down.”

  They took the chairs in front of the desk.

  “How’s the investigation into the fire at the Wild Orchid going?”

  Rob looked to him, and Paul nodded. “Go ahead.”

  “We believe there may be a link between all the break-ins on Main Street, so we started the investigation there. Once we determined that, it led us to the fire. We’re building a case where the same people who committed the burglaries are also responsible for sending threatening notes to the Curry Spot and Today’s Man and for causing the fire.”

  Kraft’s brows rose. “Is that so?”

  “Yes, sir,” Paul interjected. “We’ve spoken to several of the participants in the burglaries, and they’re busy implicating each other.”

  “And they admitted to the fire and the notes?” He leveled a cool gaze at them.

  “Not yet. But we believe that once we start questioning the others in the group, more pieces will fit together.”

  “Good, good.” He laced his fingers on top of the desk. “Tell me about your visit with Mackenzie Cartwright.”

  Paul’s heart sank. “What would you like to know?” he inquired politely, and Kraft cracked a smile.

  “Bulldog, you are the worst faker. You’re probably cursing me up and down to heaven inside.”

  Paul pressed his lips together but couldn’t hide the smile.

  Kraft tapped the desk and heaved out a sigh. “You know he’s cozying up to the mayor and the chief.”

  “He might’ve mentioned that,” Paul said dryly.

  “Lieutenant, we didn’t treat him any differently than anyone else.” Rob’s earnest voice rose. “All we did was question him as to why he moved to a sleepy little town like Thornwood Park when he’s apparently as rich as Croesus and can live anywhere.”

  “Okay, you two, simmer down. I’m not here to put the kibosh on the investigation. I would hope after these years together you know me better than that.”

  Paul let out a relieved breath. “Thank you, sir.”

  “Cartwright has offered to pay for every member of Thornwood Park PD to have a new tablet, and said he’d like to help update and replace the computer system.”

  And just like that, Paul’s stomach cramped up. “Sir.” The battle raged inside him to stand up and tell Kraft what he thought.

  “Hold up, Bulldog. I smell a payoff when it’s made too. I haven’t worked on the force for over forty years not to.” A thin smile tipped his lips up, and his eyes glinted with fire. “Do what you must. Just make sure everything you have is ironclad and indisputable.”

  “Will do, sir. We’ll keep you informed.”

  “See that you do.”

  After exiting Kraft’s office, they headed straight for their desks and booted up their computers.

  “Well?” Rob tipped back in his seat.

  “We’re in good shape. I was worried for a few that he’d call us off the case.” The screen powered on, and Paul went online and put Cartwright’s name into the search engine. A whole list of webpages popped up. This was going to take a while. He drummed his fingers as he read. Several minutes passed, and something hit him.

  “I’ve been looking at this all wrong. Dammit.” He slapped his hands on the desk.

  Rob, who’d been reading up on Cartwright’s empire, shot him a curious look. “What? What’s wrong?”

  “What’s the first thing I always say, the first thing we look to when it’s a murder case?”

  Rob thought for a moment, and then his eyes crinkled. “Who benefits.”

  “Exactly. Cui bono? But not here, because we were concentrating on the burglaries and the fire. But who benefits from the fire?” He smiled, but there was little humor in it. “I’ll bet if we look at his insurance policy, it’s a nice, fat, juicy one.”

  Admiration filled Rob’s eyes. “Of course, Paulie. We have the policies somewhere here…”

  But Paul already had the file in hand and was whipping through the pages of documented evidence. “Here it is. He’s insured by America’s Best Insurance.” He ran his finger down the pages, past all the legal mumbo jumbo, until he reached the dollar amount and whistled. “Damn. Listen to this.” He swiveled around in his chair. “He had tons of insurance on the place: general liability, business interruption, property. Total amount? Ten million dollars.”

  Rob whistled. “Holy shit.”

  “I’m sure part of the collateral to get the business assessed for that amount was using hi
s name. But to me, that sounds like a shit-ton of money to have on a small gay nightclub in a little town like Thornwood Park.”

  “Yeah. I wonder why. I don’t profess to know anything about insurance, but that seems like a lot of money.”

  “We can find out. We need to look at why he was insured for such a high amount. Did he owe money to other people? Did he need the money to pay off debts? One thing we learned after the Ulrich murder was never to judge people by the lifestyle they live.”

  Rob nodded. “Yeah. For sure. He might owe his bookie or his dealer or someone.”

  “We’re going to have to get a warrant for his bank information and all his business information to see his money situation. But a lot of business records are available online, like corporate filings, which makes it a little easier.” He made a note to check LexisNexis, the most accurate database of shareable information. “You never know what you’ll find. The emperor may have no clothes.”

  “Lifestyles of the not so Rich and not so Famous,” Rob deadpanned.

  “Yeah.”

  His pulse quickened as he leaned closer to the computer and started to delve into the real Mackenzie Cartwright.

  Chapter Twenty

  “So everything looks good, Cliff.”

  Cliff sent a glance up to heaven and mouthed a Thank God, before answering Andrew Dixon, Chief Operating Officer of the Starrywood Corporation.

  “Glad to hear. We’re booked solid with conventions two years out, and our reservations are looking pretty solid through year’s end.”

  “Good, good.”

  Cliff waited for Dixon to end the monthly call with his usual, “Keep up the good work, and we’ll check in next month.” Instead he said, “Are you aware that one of our higher-ups lives in Thornwood Park?”

  “No, I wasn’t,” Cliff answered, his tone guarded. Why would he know that?

  “He’s very impressed with how you’ve run the hotel and wants to meet with you personally.”

  So not what he expected to hear.

  “Oh. That’s nice.”

  “Today, in fact. He wants to take you for lunch, on the company, of course, in the hotel restaurant. A way to say thank you for a job well done.”

  “Wow. Okay. That’s really nice.”

  “You never know, Cliff. He can make things happen for you.”

  “Make things happen?”

  “You know. A promotion, maybe even to a New York or California property. You don’t want to stay in Thornwood Park forever. You were in Paris and London. Why would you want to stay in a little hick town?”

  He opened his mouth to answer, then figured—why bother? Dixon had never left New York City and had no idea who Cliff was beyond their monthly phone calls.

  “Thanks. I’m looking forward to meeting him. Who is it, by the way?”

  “Mackenzie Cartwright. Be on your best behavior. Say yes to everything.”

  “Ha-ha, of course.” Impatient to get going and rolling his eyes at Dixon’s poor attempt at a joke, Cliff tapped his fingers on the desk. “I’ll be waiting for him.”

  “Okay. Thanks again, and talk to you next month.”

  With a sigh of relief, Cliff hung up the phone and plunged into his day of vendor contracts and irritated guests. Losing track of time, he didn’t resurface until the phone rang, and to his surprise, time had warp-sped from his ten o’clock phone call to one o’clock.

  “Hello, Cliff Baxter.”

  “Cliff?” The slightly anxious voice of Preston, his front-desk clerk, greeted him. “There’s a Mackenzie Cartwright here to see you?”

  “Thanks, Preston. I’ll be right out.” Cliff jumped to his feet, tightened his tie, and hot-footed it out the door. At the desk, he saw a man in freshly pressed slacks and shirt, the discreet gleam of a gold watch on his wrist sliding under the shirt cuff. Sleek black hair fell over his brow like a raven’s wing, and he held himself erect, shoulders straight.

  “Mr. Cartwright? I’m Cliff Baxter, the hotel manager.” Hand outstretched, he greeted the man, who directed a penetrating green gaze at him. Cliff, who’d withstood questioning from Paul before they’d become lovers, met his eyes and didn’t blink.

  Cartwright gripped his hand. “Baxter. I’ve heard only good things, and now that I’m here for a while, I thought it behooved me to come see the man who turned this sinking ship around.” He showed white, even teeth in a friendly smile, but something didn’t sit right with Cliff.

  “Thank you, Mr. Cartwright. I love working here. We have a great staff, and as you can see”—Cliff swept a hand, pointing out the stream of guests walking in and out of the front doors or over to the bustling bar area—“we’re busy pretty much nonstop until the bar closes at midnight.”

  Cartwright’s pointed gaze swept over the areas, and he nodded with satisfaction. “I did notice, and I like it. Now I hope you’re ready for a good lunch. I’m looking forward to getting to know more about you and the operation here.”

  They walked side by side to the restaurant. Earlier in the day, after Dixon’s phone call, he’d let his restaurant manager know there’d be a VIP coming. As anticipated, she was waiting and fully prepared for him.

  “Good afternoon.” Her professional smile greeted them. “Table for two?”

  “Yes, Jade. Thank you. Mr. Cartwright, this is Jade Kennedy, my restaurant manager.”

  Jade led them to a prime table by the window, overlooking the small garden area where blooming roses climbed over the trellis he’d had installed. A busboy immediately came over to pour their waters and bring a basket with fresh, hot bread and breadsticks, while Jade lingered.

  “I hope you enjoy your lunch, Mr. Cartwright, and please let me know if there’s anything you need.”

  “Please, call me Mackenzie. Wonderful to meet you, Jade. I’m sure you’re an integral part of Mr. Baxter’s success for this hotel.”

  “She has been. Jade runs the restaurant and bar seamlessly.” Now that she’s stopped sleeping with the staff. Once she’d gotten over Jerry’s death, Jade had kept firm on separating her personal life from her private one.

  “Thank you, Cliff.” She turned a brilliant smile on Cartwright. “Cliff’s very easy to work for. A great boss.”

  “I’m sure he is.”

  “I’ll leave you to your lunch.”

  Jade returned to her place at the front of the restaurant.

  Again, he wasn’t sure why, but an uncomfortable feeling had settled in his chest since meeting Cartwright. Cliff attributed it to the fact that he wasn’t into the fast-paced lifestyle the man represented.

  “What do you recommend?”

  “I don’t know what you’re partial to, but our Cobb salad is excellent, as is our French dip.”

  “Come now. We’re having lunch to express the appreciation of the company for all your hard work.” His smile broadened. “Order a steak, man. Waiter!” He snagged a passing busboy. “Bring us a bottle of your best red wine.”

  Bemused, Cliff gave the startled young man a subtle nod, and he rushed off to the bar. “Thank you. I usually save my bigger meals for the evening, but if you insist, I’ll have the salmon.”

  “Ah, when you get home to the wife and kids.”

  “No, I’m not married.”

  Cartwright gave him an assessing look. “No? Neither am I.”

  Cliff felt it then. The intensity of Cartwright’s gaze that was about more than business.

  “I’ll have the steak. Tell me about yourself and how you ended up here.”

  Surprisingly, the meal turned out to be a pleasant one. Cartwright kept him laughing with stories of other hotel mishaps and hiring disasters. Still mindful of his place, Cliff didn’t let down his guard and remained careful not to reveal anything too personal. He finished his salmon, Cartwright had polished off a ribeye, and while Cliff appreciated the company’s generosity, he had a ton of paperwork to go through and his monthly meeting with security and housekeeping.

  “So now that I found out you’re a h
ometown boy, are you wedded to staying here?”

  “I haven’t thought about leaving. My family is here, as are my friends.”

  “A special someone?”

  Uncomfortable, Cliff shrugged. “Yes. I have roots here.”

  Cartwright studied him with sharp eyes. “I’m impressed, Cliff, and it takes a lot to accomplish that. I’ve lived in Thornwood Park for five years now, and while I thought I’d be here for good, I’m thinking of moving on.”

  “Oh?” If the lunch ended soon, he could still make his three o’clock meeting.

  “To Texas maybe, or Arizona. I’m going to be taking over more Starrywoods, and once that happens, I’d like you to consider moving up and becoming a regional director.”

  Shocked didn’t begin to explain Cliff’s reaction. “Regional director?” Cliff knew without asking that it would be a tremendous jump in salary but also a lot of travel and time away from home. His face must’ve registered something beyond mere surprise, as Jade, who’d been sneaking glances at their table throughout the meal, raised her brows. He didn’t meet her eyes.

  “Yes. Of the Southwest region. Our fastest growing segment of hotels.”

  “The Southwest?” he repeated. “Not this one?”

  “Oh, no. I want you where we need to build up our presence and turn things around. Of course, it’s not something immediate.”

  “Oh,” he said faintly. “You’ve given me something to think about for sure.”

  “Good. You didn’t say no outright. Run it past your significant other and see what they say. I don’t make these offers lightly.”

  “I will. Thank you so much. I appreciate the offer and every chance you and the company have given me over the years.”

  “Good, good. I trust you’ll look into this offer seriously, and I hope to receive a positive answer from you soon.”

  They left their table, and Cartwright walked out with him to the front of the hotel. “I’ll be around, in and out of the hotel. I hope to see you again.”

  Their handclasp was brief enough, but the subtle pressure of Cartwright’s fingers left Cliff uneasy. It also made him want to wash his hands.