The Lady Who Cried Murder (A Mac Faraday Mystery)

by Lauren Carr

  As soon as the media saw David step out of the house, a hush fell over the journalists. Cameras were poised to frame him in their shot when the police chief stepped up to the bank of microphones that they had set up on a makeshift podium in the driveway.

  Bevis leaned against the porch railing with his arms folded across his chest. His tubby stomach rolled over his belt. Mac wondered if that smirk ever left his face. It seemed to be permanently etched there. Behind him, Lily chewed on her pinky finger.

  Bogie, Mac, and two of David’s officers positioned themselves behind him in a show of support when the police chief began his statement:

  “Four nights ago, on Wednesday night, twenty-one year old Khloe Everest, accompanied by two friends, went out for an evening of clubbing. During the course of the evening, she became separated from her friends. Khloe Everest did not make it home. Witnesses have told our investigators that they saw Khloe parked at a boat launch on Deep Creek Lake. She was seen speaking to a young man. On Thursday morning, her mother, Florence Everett, who was out of town on a business trip, received a phone call from her daughter’s cell phone, in which she was screaming and crying for help during what seemed to be an attack. They were abruptly cut off. Ms. Everest immediately contacted our police department. Since that time, we have been searching for Khloe Everest. All of you have received pictures of Ms. Everest. We are still searching for the young man with whom she was last seen. At this time, I would like to distribute composite pictures that have been made of him based on witness descriptions.”

  “Is he a suspect?” a journalist yelled out.

  “Right now, we only want to talk to him,” David said. “He is wanted for questioning.”

  “Do you think Khloe’s disappearance is in any way connected to the Amber Houston disappearance and murder in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania?” another journalist shouted out. “They are about the same age and disappeared in the same way. Could it be the same killer?”

  Another journalist agreed. “Have you checked the dumpsters belonging to motels in the area… like the one in McHenry?”

  “We are examining all possibilities,” David said. “Until we get evidence suggesting otherwise, we’re operating on the assumption that Khloe is alive.”

  Over the heads of the journalists, Mac saw a car pull up as far as it could go on the blocked road and turn off to get out of traffic. Squinting, he could see a young, dark-haired woman behind the wheel. She fluffed her hair with her hands and checked her lipstick in the rearview mirror before opening the door and sliding out of the driver’s seat. With a broad grin on her face, she sashayed up the driveway in her high heels and fire engine red short skirt.

  Mac was still trying to find the words to express his surprise when Lily abruptly screamed, “Khloe!”

  It took a full moment for the journalists to react. Cameras followed the line of Lily’s pointing finger to the young woman in the driveway striking a pose for the cameras.

  “What’s going on?” she asked with a giggle in her voice. “Has someone been killed?”

  While the journalists mobbed the subject of the search, David turned to gaze at Mac in stunned disbelief.

  Not only was Khloe Everest alive, but, judging by the glee on her face while posing for the cameras, she was doing extremely well.

  Mac was the first to get over his shock and fight his way through the mob to grab Khloe by the wrist. “We need to talk,” he hissed through gritted teeth before dragging her out of the throng of reporters to take her inside where her mother hugged her—until she discovered that Khloe had never been in danger.

  Even Gnarly was cocking his head at her with an expression of disbelief in his eyes.

  “We thought you were dead!” Florence screamed at her. “None of us have eaten or slept in four days. All of these officers all over the county and much of the state have been searching for you, and where were you? Shacked up in a motel with a boy?”

  “You should have called your mother.” While chastising Khloe, Archie stroked Florence’s arm in comfort—or was it to calm her down and hold her back from throttling the girl?

  “What motel were you at?” David asked her.

  “It was some dive outside Morgantown,” Khloe said with a shrug of her shoulders.

  “Didn’t you see the news about a tri-state-wide search for you?” Lily asked.

  “We weren’t watching television.” Khloe’s grin was wickedly naughty.

  “What about the phone call you made to me?” Florence demanded to know.

  “What phone call?” While her words communicated bafflement, her grin said she knew exactly what her mother was talking about.

  “You really need to work on playing innocent,” Mac said in a low voice in reference to the smile kicking at the corner of her lips.

  “You called me on your cell phone,” Florence said in a high-pitched voice. “You were screaming and crying and—”

  “Oh!” Khloe wailed in laughter. “So that was you I called. It was a butt dial.”

  Blinking, Florence turned to David for help.

  “That’s when you have your phone in your back pocket,” David explained, “and you sit down and accidentally call someone without realizing it.”

  “Once, a SWAT team got called out to a school because a teacher accidentally butt dialed his wife,” Bogie said. “She heard voices, but her husband didn’t respond when she tried talking to him. So she thought that the school had been taken hostage. The school was locked down and SWAT converged on it before the police realized it was a mistake.”

  “Why didn’t you answer your phone during the last four days? Why have you had it turned off so that we couldn’t locate you via GPS?” David asked her. “Why haven’t you called anyone to tell them that you were all right?”

  “I was busy,” Khloe said with a toss of her head that sent her long hair back over her shoulder. She checked out the window to see if the media had left yet.

  “Since when have you been too busy to text?” The anger in Lily’s tone matched that of Khloe’s mother.

  “What’s the name of this boy you were with?” David asked her.

  “Brad…something or other,” Khloe said with a shrug of her shoulders.

  “You were in bed with a boy for four days, never checking the news, not calling any of your friends or family, and you didn’t get his last name?” Bogie asked.

  “She set us up.” Lily glared at Khloe. “You set me up.”

  “Why?” David asked.

  “Excuse me,” Khloe said, “but my fifteen minutes of fame is slipping by fast and there are some people outside who want to talk to me.” She turned to find David blocking her path. When she moved to one side, Mac blocked that escape. “Hey, I did nothing wrong.”

  “Actually, you did,” David said. “It’s called obstruction of justice. During the last four days, police from most of the state have been looking for you when we could have been focusing on people who were in real trouble.”

  “Hey, I didn’t call the police!” Khloe pointed at her mother. “She did.”

  “After you set up that butt dial to make it look like you’ve been kidnapped,” Florence said. “Think of all the young women who have really been kidnapped. Who have really been raped and humiliated, who really do need help, and you made a mockery of all of these officers to play this little game of yours—for what?” She pointed out the window. “Fame!”

  Mac glared into Khloe’s eyes, which were filled with satisfaction. “I know you’re too young and cocky to understand this right now—but I’ve worked a lot of murder investigations that involved some very famous people—both as victims and suspects—and all of them had one thing in common.”

  “What’s that?” Khloe said with a sigh to show him that she was humoring him.

  “They paid a price,” Mac said. “They all paid with their privacy. Some paid an additional price of their dignity. You,” he chuckled, “you traded in your integrity. Too bad you’re so young that you have yet to real
ize what a valuable thing that is.”

  “I’ll think about that when I’m in front of the cameras on my way across the red carpet.” She pushed her way through to make her way to the door.

  “It’s obstruction of justice,” David said forcibly. “Five years in prison if convicted.”

  Khloe whirled around and shot him a glare. “First, you have to prove that I engineered all of this to make you look like a bunch of fools, instead of you doing it to yourselves.”

  “Considering that your own mother and best friend believe you’re capable of it,” David said, “we will prove it. No one makes an ass out of my people and gets away with it.”

  “Knock yourself out.” With a flip of her hair, she stepped outside to strike another pose for the cameras.

  Florence sighed. “It’s all my fault…letting her grow up without a father.”

  Lily wrapped her arm around her waist. “Do you really think she’d be less self-absorbed if she knew her father?”

  Mac saw that instead of David, it was now Khloe to whom Bevis was directing his beady-eyed glare while stroking his plump lips. Outside, the latest infamous newsmaker was being swarmed by the media.

  “What do you think?” David drew Mac’s attention for the unpleasant man’s display. “Is there really any way to prove she did engineer this whole fiasco?”

  “Even if there isn’t,” Mac said, “she’ll get hers. What goes around comes around.”

  CHAPTER ONE

  Present Day

  David groaned when he turned his cruiser into the driveway at the Everest home and found it occupied by a van and limousine. A video camera operator rushed to the cruiser and focused his recorder on David in the driver’s seat. Meanwhile, a young woman in jeans and a form-fitting winter parka ran to the door. David spotted the wire for the portable mic hanging out from under her coat and clipped to the top of her coat. She was wearing a mic and an earbud.

  “Chief O’Callaghan, I’m Meghan Bishop, the producer of E-Entertainment Live. I’m the one who called you.”

  David slipped out of the driver’s seat of his cruiser. “Then you’re the one to arrest if this turns into a publicity stunt.” After zipping up his coat and pulling the collar in tight around his throat, he gestured at the camera operator. “Turn off that camera.”

  The camera operator ignored his order.

  Oblivious to the police chief’s displeasure, Meghan continued, “Khloe Everest invited our crew to her house this morning for an interview. She was going to make an announcement—”

  Turning around sharply, David was in the camera operator’s face so fast that he didn’t have time to react before the police chief grabbed the camera and yanked it down from his face. “If you don’t turn off that camera, I am going to take it and stuff it down your pants,” he said in a low tone.

  In spite of the freezing winter temperature, beads of sweat popped up on the camera operator’s forehead. The young man turned to Meghan, who waved her fingers across her throat in a gesture for him to cease recording. He backed away a few feet and bounced on the balls of his feet to keep warm.

  David saw a familiar looking redhead freshening up her makeup in the warmth of the back of the limousine.

  “Yes, that’s Audrey Connelly,” Meghan told him. “She’s conducting the interview with Khloe Everest. She needs to be in New York by five o’clock.” She planted her hands on her hips. “Khloe isn’t answering the door.”

  “Maybe she got a better offer,” David said.

  “I doubt it,” Meghan replied. “Khloe has been shopping around for a show that would be willing to give her camera time for this announcement, which she promises to be huge. None of the producers saw her as being much of a ratings draw. But when we found out that she lived in Spencer, we convinced the station that this mysterious announcement would be worthwhile and got them to foot the bill on a boondoggle at the Spencer Inn.” She jerked her head in the direction of the porch and door. “Now that we’re ready to go to work, Khloe’s not answering the door.”

  “What do you want me to do about it?”

  “Khloe Everest is a fame junkie,” the producer said. “If she could answer that door, she would. She knows that when we go, we’re not coming back, and no one else will. She’ll be through.”

  Sucking in his breath, David tried to check his growing impatience. “If you called me for—”

  “Are you going to press charges against Khloe for obstruction of justice for faking her abduction?” Audrey called to him out the window. Her breath came out to form a white cloud of steam.

  “We’re still investigating,” David said. “She may be broke, but not too broke to have a lawyer putting up road blocks.” He looked up at the front door. “Well, I’m here. It’s about time for her to answer the door and lift the curtain on her show.”

  “We told you,” Meghan said, “She’s not answering the door.”

  Audrey added, “I haven’t gotten any texts from Khloe for the last four days. Last night, I asked her to confirm the interview and got nothing. I check all of her social media sites and she hasn’t posted anything there, either.”

  “That’s big,” Meghan said.

  “Real big,” Audrey said. “Khloe doesn’t make a move without reporting it to her friends and followers. A week ago, when we scheduled this interview, she started a countdown to her big announcement. It ended four days ago. I think someone got to her to put a stop to it.”

  His hands on his hips, David fingered the grip of his gun.

  So this is how it plays. I go in to check it out and find Khloe in the bubble bath naked with the camera crew behind me to film it all. Or, better yet, I walk in to find her unconscious from an attempted suicide. Why else would she have arranged to have a full film crew here? She’s planning something to make her way back onto the media radar, and I refuse to be a part of it.

  The two women were eying him.

  “I’ll go inside to check on her,” David said. “I want all of you to stay here.” He turned to the camera operator and pointed a finger into his face. “That means you.”

  His eyes big and his mouth open, the camera operator looked too scared to respond.

  While crossing the snow-covered yard to go up to the front door, David pressed the button on his radio to report into the station that he was checking out the Everest residence due to no response from Khloe Everest. “According to this producer and show host, no one has heard from her in four days.”

  “Have you checked with the local motels to see if she’s hooked up with a new lover?” Spencer police’s desk sergeant Tonya replied.

  “If that’s the case this time, I’m cuffing her and dragging her in to spend four days in our holding cell.” His irritation about being dragged into yet another publicity stunt came out when he pounded the door with his fist. “Khloe Everest! This is Police Chief David O’Callaghan. Answer the door! Now!”

  The response was silence. The crew in the driveway craned their ears for a sound from inside the house.

  He went around the corner of the house. Before turning the corner, he ducked back to see the camera operator attempting to creep across the yard to follow him. “Do I have to lock you up in my cruiser?”

  Caught, the operator backed up to the driveway.

  The Everest home was built into the side of the mountain. When David turned the corner, he only went a couple of feet before stepping up onto a deck that went around to the back. The patio from the lower level was under the deck off the main floor. In the back of the house, the second and third floors provided a view of the lake from their glass windows. The deck had a multiple doors.

  The second door David tried was unlocked. “Khloe, Chief O’Callaghan,” he called when he stepped into the kitchen. The foul odor of decaying food hit him in the face. “I’m coming in.”

  The counter was a mess with dirty plates and empty take-out food cartons. There was also a half-eaten cocktail shrimp platter with ants crawling over the leftovers, an empty b
ottle of champagne, and two empty glasses.

  The rest of the house wasn’t much cleaner. Papers, mail, dishes and clothes were scattered all over. The doors to the entertainment center rested wide open. Disks were fanned out across the room. In the study, he found that all of the drawers of what had been Florence Everest’s well-organized desk were yanked open with everything pulled out.

  Has this place been robbed, or was Khloe looking for something?

  David resumed his search. “Khloe, are you here? It’s the police.”

  Still, the response was only silence.

  David tapped the button on his radio to report. “Tonya, I’m not getting any response inside the Everest home. The place appears to have been ransacked. I’m going up to the bedroom level of the home to search for any sign of her. Stand by.”

  “Copy that, Chief.”

  Yelling came from the upper level—two women arguing in high-pitched voices—that sounded like a major cat fight. With his hand on his gun, David went up the stairs at a gallop. At the landing, he spotted blood drops in the carpet. Oh, man! This is not looking good.

  A series of loud bleeps were followed by the crash of furniture overturning.

  Bleeps? David followed the blood drops down the hallway to the door to the master bedroom.

  “You’re a slut! A bleep-bleep-bleep-bleep and the only reason Vince puts up with you is because you bleep-bleep-bleep!”

  That psychopathic idiot is sitting here watching television!

  Ready to teach Khloe Everest a lesson she would never forget for dragging him into her media circus, David turned the knob and shoved open the door. Like the rest of the house, the room was cluttered with clothes, especially lady’s underwear, and wreaked of alcohol, liberally mixed with another odor that David recognized.

  The top of the dresser was cleared off to make room for a big screen television. Khloe Everest’s image filled the screen with another young woman. Dressed in cocktail dresses and high heels, the two women were in the throes of a cat fight.