by Lauren Carr
“Did you ever think it was caused by planning a big wedding and getting ready to go to law school?”
“At first,” Seth said. “And maybe it’s wishful thinking on my part, but in talking to Chelsea, I’m picking up on some underlying hostility toward the man she’s planning to marry and spend the rest of her life with.”
Archie scoffed. “He made a mistake.”
“He married another woman without knowing it.”
“Accidents happen.”
With a roll of his eyes, Seth turned away.
Archie grabbed him by the arm. “I think you’re taking advantage of this whole situation to move in on Chelsea and to break up their engagement while David isn’t even here to defend himself.”
He grinned. “You’re very perceptive, Archie Monday. I’ve wanted to be more than a friend to Chelsea since high school chemistry, and I’ve never tried to hide that. I’ve never been smooth enough to play those types of games. If all this had happened another way—if I had run into Chelsea shopping and had seen that she was happy and thrilled about marrying David—I’d be the gentleman and stay away because I love Chelsea and only want the best for her. I want her to be happy. But that isn’t what happened. She was brought into my emergency room by an ambulance after having a seizure. Her blood pressure was elevated. She’s exhausted and confused and, frankly, unhappy.” He leaned in toward her. “Brides aren’t supposed to be unhappy.”
Seeing anger seeping into the mild-mannered doctor’s demeanor, Archie backed up a step.
“That woman in there is my patient and someone who I care for very much. If I have to save her life and her emotional well-being by keeping her from walking down that aisle and marrying David O’Callaghan, then I’ll do everything in my power to keep it from happening.”
As soon as Archie was gone, Bogie tossed the crust from his slice of pizza to Molly and sat down on the bed next to Chelsea. With a paternal attitude, he draped his arm across her shoulders. “No matter how mad you may be at David right now, Chelsea, I think deep down you know that he loves you very much and that you love him. You also know that he is not a cheater. What he did in high school was completely due to his immaturity, and what happened in Vegas was because you were gone and out of the picture.”
“I know.” With a sigh, Chelsea leaned her head on Bogie’s shoulder. “If I ask you a question, Bogie, will you tell me the truth? No sugarcoating.”
“Sure, kiddo.”
“Why did David’s dad marry Violet?” When Bogie didn’t answer, she raised her head and looked over at him.
“Well …”
“You were Patrick O’Callaghan’s best friend going all the way back,” she said. “You knew all of them.”
“I met Pat after Robin’s folks had sent her off to school out of state,” Bogie explained.
“But you knew him when he and Violet got married,” she said. “You’re David’s godfather. You were there when David was born. If Pat was in love with Robin Spencer, why did he marry Violet?”
Bogie cleared his throat. “Pat loved Robin Spencer with all his heart. But her folks ended it between them. They sent her away. Even though he loved her, he resigned himself to the fact that he was never going to see her again. He thought he had moved on when he married Violet—”
“Did he love Violet?”
“Yes,” Bogie said firmly. “He never would have married her if he hadn’t.”
“But Mac’s mother was the one.”
With a heavy sigh, Bogie nodded his head. “By the time Robin came back to Spencer, it was too late. Pat had married Violet and was too honorable to leave her.”
“And Violet saw that,” Chelsea said in a soft voice. “Even though she had him, she knew his heart belonged someplace else, and the pain ate away at her until she went mad with jealousy and resentment.”
“Pretty much,” Bogie said.
A weak smile came to her lips. “I guess you might say theirs was an honor marriage—a marriage entered into not because of love but because of Patrick’s sense of duty and desire to keep his word.” She sighed. “How sad for Violet. The only thing that kept the man she loved with her was his sense of honor.”
“Sometimes a strong sense of honor can become a curse,” Bogie said. “Pat was pretty much caught in a trap.”
“Why would you want to trap someone you love?” Chelsea asked.
“Happens all the time,” Bogie said. “In my time, I’ve known more than one woman who got pregnant on purpose to trap a man into marrying her. I think Violet got pregnant with David on purpose because she knew Patrick would never leave her for Robin if they had a child together.”
“It would have been better for everyone if she had just let Pat go, even if he was determined to do the honorable thing and to keep his vows. If she had done that, everyone could have moved on. She might have even managed to keep her sanity.”
“That’s very true, Chelsea.”
“Am I David’s Robin or his Violet?”
“You were his first love.”
“That wasn’t my question, Bogie,” she said. “Most people don’t marry their first love. Am I David’s Robin Spencer—the love of his life, the woman who’s going to be on his mind when he takes his last breath—or am I the woman he’s resigned to marry in order to make up for breaking my heart back all those years ago?”
“Only you two can answer that.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
“You need to do it now,” Mac told Gnarly, who looked at the fire hydrant like he really wasn’t feeling it. “Because once we go in there”—he pointed to the News Corp Building across the street—“I’m not dropping my interrogation just because you feel the need for a pit stop. You’re going to have to cross your legs and hold it.”
As if to demonstrate his opinion of Mac’s threat, Gnarly stood up, turned his back on the fire hydrant, sat back down, and thrust his snout up in the air. If he’d had arms, he would have crossed them.
Mac was in the middle of a curse when his cell phone vibrated on his hip. The caller ID read “Bogie.” “Think about it,” he said to Gnarly while connecting the call and bringing the phone to his ear. “Tell me you have something for me, Bogie.”
“Clint Brown and Kimberly Castillo from Marfa, Texas,” Bogie said with a sigh.
“Texas’ Romeo and Juliet,” Mac said.
Bogie continued. “I had a nice long talk with Presidio County’s sheriff, who had taken the lead when those two kids died in that car that went over the cliff. Now we both know that DNA wasn’t available—”
“They trusted the kids at the scene who said Clint and Kimberly were in the car,” Mac said.
“Exactly,” Bogie said. “Clint had never been to a dentist, so there were no dental records for him. Kimberly’s family believed her friends’ ID. However, after I brought up Audra’s statement that the car was on fire before it went over the cliff and mentioned how she disappeared after publicly saying that she was looking into this case, the sheriff became very open minded. His mind opened even more when I pointed out the shrapnel in what were supposedly Clint’s legs. He said there was a young man in the next county over who the military police had been looking for because he’d gone AWOL. That was around the time when Clint and Kimberly supposedly died, but this AWOL soldier was twenty-three years old.”
“Early to midtwenties, which is what Doc said was noted in the autopsy,” Mac said.
“Plus, this guy was on medical leave after suffering leg wounds from an accidental explosion during a training exercise. Military does have his dental records.”
“Yes!” Mac pumped his fist in the air.
“Sheriff is going to call the army and ask if they’d like to send over the dental records so we can compare them with the autopsy records for the body identified as Clint’s. The sheriff is also going to take a closer look at the woman’s bod
y because this missing soldier had a girlfriend who disappeared at the same time. Her name was Carmen Gomez. She was a bartender who worked at his favorite hangout. It was a very popular cowboy bar, and she had a special way with the clientele. According to the sheriff, she was a sexy raven-haired Mexican.”
“Mexican?” Mac asked. “The autopsy report didn’t show any characteristics in the woman’s skeletal features that are commonly associated with people of Mexican origin.”
“Yes, but she went missing at the same time that this soldier went AWOL—after she worked a closing shift at the bar. They both disappeared with all of the money in the bar’s cash register and safe. The theory at the time was that they stole the money and ran off to Mexico.”
“Hmmmm,” Mac mused. “You’re giving me a lot of ideas, Bogie.”
“That’s what I’m here for.”
“How are the wedding plans coming?” Mac asked. “Everything on schedule?”
“You tell me,” Bogie said. “The groom’s with you.”
“We’ll be home tomorrow in time for the rehearsal dinner.” Hoping he wasn’t telling a lie, Mac felt his stomach turn. Hearing only silence from the other end of the line, Mac wondered if Bogie, a longtime police officer who had a talent for spotting lies, heard the doubt in his voice. “Are you still there, Bogie?”
“Yeah.” Bogie’s voice had gone up an octave.
“Is Chelsea okay?” Mac asked. “She’s not having second thoughts, is she?”
“We’ll see you and David tomorrow.”
Click!
“Is it me, or was that weird?” Tucking his cell phone back into its case, Mac tugged on Gnarly’s leash, and they trotted across the street to the News Corp Building. After making his way through the security checkpoint, Mac saw Hank, the chief of the building’s security, waving to him from his office’s doorway.
“We checked on that visitor’s form sent to security for Rubenstein,” he told Mac in a low voice, glancing around as if he expected the killer to cut him off while he was divulging his findings.
“And?”
“The IP address that the form was sent from belongs to Pam Wiehl’s desktop,” Hank said. “It was sent from her intranet account, too.”
“But the contact name on the form was Ali Hudson,” Mac said.
“She’s your killer,” Hank said with certainty. “I’ve heard about how jealous Pam Wiehl was of Yvonne. You know how these women get when they get older, and pretty young girls start stealing their spotlight?”
“Yes,” Mac said, “I know. Thank you for your help, Hank. That information is very useful.”
“We’ve got places,” Mac said into his cell phone while waiting outside the studio door.
Gnarly’s ears perked up, indicating that a visitor was nearby.
“The ball is now in play.” Mac pressed the button to disconnect the call as Ian rounded the corner.
His ears falling back on his head, Gnarly wagged his tail.
“Well, hello, big guy. How are you?” Ian Griffith knelt to pet the German shepherd on the top of his head as he admired his impressively large build.
“Everything set?” Mac asked.
“We’ll be ready to shoot in one, two—”
The elevator doors opened at the other end of the hall, and loud laughter floated down the corridor in their direction. Bent over with laughter, Pam and Jim Wiehl, and Ryan Ritter stepped off the elevator and made their way toward Mac, who was waiting by the doors.
Gnarly uttered a low growl.
Ryan was too focused on Mac to notice. “Faraday, I insist on being invited to your meeting.”
“You insist?” Mac asked. “I didn’t ask you, because I know how busy you are, and I thought I’d do you a favor. Since you’ve been cleared as a suspect, I saw no reason to inconvenience you.” With a grin, he shrugged his shoulders. “Usually, witnesses run from these type of things.”
“Keep in mind that you’re dealing with journalists with this case,” Jim told Mac.
“I’m a witness,” Ryan said. “I was in the control room with you and O’Callaghan minutes before Yvonne was murdered.”
“That’s right,” Mac said. “And then you went to makeup, which was on the opposite side of the studio from the scene of the crime. You were nowhere near the murder when it happened.”
Laughing, Pam tapped Ian on the arm. “Which reminds me—I was just telling Jim about that stunt you pulled with my false eyelashes in makeup.” She burst into loud laughter.
Ian joined in.
“What happened?” Mac asked.
Wiping his smile from his face, Ian said, “Considering that Yvonne was shot and killed while it happened, it seems tasteless for us to be laughing about it.”
“I know,” Pam said with a nervous laugh. “But it had everyone in stitches.” She turned to Mac. “Ian is such a clown. Sophie, one of the makeup women, took off my other eyelash after the one had come off during filming the other night. Well Ian took both eyelashes, glued them onto his eyebrows, and started walking around, pretending to be a drag queen.”
To demonstrate, Ian placed one hand on his hip and, batting his eyelashes, sashayed up and down the corridor while Pam roared with laughter. “He’s just awful!”
“Totally outrageous. You’d never believe it.” Ryan chuckled. “How ironic that while we were all doubled over with laughter, one of our good friends was having her young life tragically cut short.”
After sighing wistfully, Ryan made his request once more. “If you don’t mind, Mac, I really would like to be included in your meeting. As a journalist, I’ve been trained to be observant, and since I was there, I believe I could very well help. As you know, Yvonne Harding and I were quite close. I do want to help catch her killer.”
With a wave of his hand, Mac gestured for them all to enter the studio. “The more the merrier.”
Once inside the studio, Mac allowed Gnarly off his leash. On duty, Gnarly ignored the snack table Mac had set up for the group of witnesses and suspects he had called together and instead took a position between his master and the suspects. While waiting, many of them helped themselves to the goodies.
Ed Willingham, Lieutenant Andrew Van Patton, and four detectives from the lieutenant’s squad had positioned themselves among the guests.
Taking his time, Mac made note of the suspects eying him, the lawyer, and the detectives.
There was Preston Blakeley, ZNC’s CEO, who had a political agenda and a business relationship with Senator Brennan. Audra Walker’s best-selling book threatened Senator Brennan’s political career, which, in turn, would have hurt ZNC, who supported the senator. Blakeley had even tried to nix Audra Walker’s interview and would have succeeded if she hadn’t blackmailed him into letting it happen. Carl Rubenstein’s potential lawsuit over Yvonne’s outing his wife as a troll had stood to cost ZNC millions of dollars.
Pam Wiehl had considered both Audra Walker and Yvonne Harding to be her professional competition, as had Ian Griffin. She claimed that she had been personal friends with Audra Walker and that she and her husband owed her, but how far did that gratitude go? Far enough to make her set aside her ambition?
The others were all potential witnesses in Audra Walker’s murder—and most of them had also been present during Yvonne’s murder.
Mac waited for each one of them to start shuffling around and stealing nervous peeks in his direction before he checked the time on his cell phone. While they waited, he pressed a phone number. They heard his call over a speaker.
“You have reached the cell phone of David O’Callaghan. I’m sorry I’m not available to take your call right now. Please leave a message, and I’ll get back in touch with you as soon as possible.”
With a look of disappointment, Mac disconnected the call without leaving a message.
“When was the last time you heard from hi
m?” Ed asked Mac.
“A while ago,” Mac replied. “I guess David O’Callaghan and Ali Hudson aren’t going to join us.”
“And Lieutenant Wayne Hopkins, the detective assigned to this case, went home sick,” Lieutenant Van Patton said. “Do you want to reschedule this?”
“No, I don’t,” Mac said. “Are you up to speed with Hopkins’ investigation?”
The head of the homicide squad folded his arms across his chest. “Hopkins kept me in the loop.”
Mac turned around to face his suspects. “I guess we’ll get started.”
“Excuse me for asking,” Ian interrupted, “but wouldn’t you consider it suspicious that you’re having this meeting to prove that neither Carl Rubenstein nor you and your brother had anything to do with Yvonne’s murder, but O’Callaghan isn’t here?”
“Maybe.” Mac gestured at the door leading into the control room, which Ed Willingham had opened. “Let’s begin in here.”
Seeing that the room wasn’t big enough for everyone, Mac said, “I’d like everyone to go where they were during the taping of the segment recorded before Yvonne’s murder. Lieutenant Van Patton, you’ll stand in for Hopkins.” Pointing at the news desk on the stage, he ordered Pam and the police lieutenant up onto the stage. “I want crew members to go where they were and to pretend to do what they were doing during the taping.”
Sophie, the chief makeup artist, waved her hand. “Do you want us to go into the makeup room? We’ll be over behind closed doors, so we won’t be able to see what’s going on.”
“But you do have a monitor with a live feed of what’s being recorded on the stage,” Jim Wiehl reminded them.
