by Lauren Carr
“Then why aren’t you in Hollywood right now?” David asked. “What are you doing back here?”
“I’m on hiatus,” Nick said. “I’m working on a CD. It’s coming out next year.”
“Weren’t you working as a male stripper when Amber Houston met you?” Cameron asked.
“Stripping, singing, reality star,” Mac ticked off. “I guess you’re still trying to find yourself, huh, Nick?”
“A guy does what he has to do to get ahead,” Nick said. “All I have going for me is my looks. I was never one for schooling. College was out of the question. When I was stripping and singing in the clubs, I discovered that I have a talent for being whatever I need to be for those who can give me what I want.”
“Who do you have to be to live in a big house in a ritzy neighborhood?” Mac asked.
“Wouldn’t you like to know?”
Mac turned to look back at him. “I do want to know.”
“Who were you to Amber, Tiffany, and Khloe?” Cameron asked.
In the rearview mirror, Mac could see a wicked grin cross Nick’s face. “It was the other way around for them. They became who I told them to be. It was sweet.”
Turning back around, Mac glanced at David. “Role playing.”
“How does your wife feel about you having other women role playing for you?” Cameron asked him.
Nick’s mouth drew tight. While Mac and Cameron watched him in the rearview mirror, his cocky grin fell from his face. Nick turned to look out the window at the passing countryside off the expressway.
Watching Nick in the rearview mirror, Mac almost regretted the decision to take Nick back to Deep Creek Lake. Since they had picked him up, they were unable to visit Sheila McGrath, the woman who was apparently keeping Nick in the lifestyle to which he had become accustomed. Clearly, with as much money as she was spending on him, she would have had reason to fly into a rage and kill his mistresses.
What type of woman spends thousands of dollars a month keeping a slimy snake like Nick Fields for a lover? A desperate, lonely, and jealous one—the type of woman who commits murder.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“That bitch provoked me on purpose!” Bevis Palazzi jumped out of his chair to tell Samuel Brooks as soon as he stepped into the interrogation room. “Of course, they’re all on her side because she’s Mac Faraday’s whore.”
“Sit down and shut your mouth!” the lawyer ordered.
In the observation room, Mac, David, and Cameron were watching the lawyer instruct his client in a low voice. Down the hall, Nick Fields was waiting for Mac and Cameron to resume questioning him.
“The senator and all his people have trouble,” Mac said. “Someone has a copy of that tape proving Harry Palazzi is a rapist. That person, who may or may not be our killer, is blackmailing the good senator. Obviously, Palazzi’s cleanup team doesn’t know who the blackmailer is. Otherwise, why hire a cat burglar to break into my house to look for the tape?”
“We didn’t find a copy in the Everest home,” David said. “So it could be the same copy that Khloe was blackmailing Palazzi with. It could very well be the motive for her murder. Now who outside of Senator Palazzi’s inner circle had knowledge of the tape and opportunity to commit the murder and steal it?”
They all looked in the direction of the hallway and down the hall to the other observation room. “He is Khloe’s best gay friend.”
Mac and Cameron stepped out into the corridor at the same time that the interrogation room door opened and Samuel Brooks stepped out. “My client and I are ready to meet with you now.”
Over his shoulder, Mac saw David coming out of the observation room. Deciding Nick Fields could wait, he followed Samuel Brooks in to meet with Bevis.
Since the Spencer police had gotten the warrant for Nick’s DNA, Cameron had to wait for the Maryland lab to process the evidence. “I should go call my silver fox anyway,” she told them. Whipping out her cell phone, she sauntered down the hallway in the direction of the squad room.
In spite of his lawyer’s warning, Bevis didn’t try to contain his disgust. “Well, if it isn’t the big bad David O’Callaghan, the big man in Spencer. After my father and I are through with you, you won’t be able to get a job as a garbage collector. I guarantee it, you’ll learn some manners.”
“You have to know some manners before you can teach them.” Mac folded his arms across his chest and leaned against the wall.
Sitting across from Bevis, David said, “Tell us about Khloe.” He placed a yellow notepad on top of the case file.
“You already know about Khloe,” Bevis said through a scowl. “We were friends.”
“How good of friends?” David asked him.
“Let’s cut the crap,” the lawyer said. “For some bizarre reason, you think Bevis killed one of his closest friends when he had no motive for killing her.”
The lawyer turned to Mac. “A few days ago you publicly accused his father of killing Khloe. This is clearly some witch-hunt instigated by a bitter ex-cop who thinks he has a score to settle with the senator. Since you can’t touch the senator, you’re going after his son. Well, we can save you a lot of time and embarrassment. When was Khloe Everest murdered?”
“Sometime Sunday night,” David said. “Right after she had set up a television interview. She was planning to make a big announcement that promised to rock this country.” He looked across at Bevis. “Do you know what that announcement was about?”
“Yeah,” Bevis said. “I know exactly what it was about.”
“Care to share it with us?” Mac asked.
“She was leaving Hollywood and going into business,” Bevis said. “She was going to take over her mom’s company.”
David was doubtful. “How would that news rock the country?”
Bevis’ eyes grew big. His plump lips stretched across his face to make him look like a clown. He threw his hands up in the air in an exaggerated shrug. “Khloe was delusional about her importance and fame. She thought people actually cared what she was doing every minute of every day.”
Samuel Brooks cocked his head at his client and narrowed his eyes. “Do you remember where you were the night Khloe was killed?”
Bevis answered quickly, “Of course.” He smirked. “I was at my father’s house playing chess until after midnight. Since it was late, I slept in my old room.”
Mac pushed off the wall. He gritted his teeth to keep from saying anything that would give away his disbelief and fury.
“You and the senator were playing chess?” David said. “All evening?”
“All evening.”
“And you never left the house?” David asked. “Not even to run an errand?”
“My father and I were together all evening.”
“Playing chess?” Mac replied. “When did the match start?”
“Right after dinner,” Bevis said. “We ate dinner together. Sunday dinner. We cooked it together. It’s a tradition since my mother was killed.”
“How sweet,” Mac said with a note of sarcasm.
“Was anybody else at the house to verify that you were there?” David asked.
“Isn’t the word of a United States Senator good enough verification?” Samuel Brooks asked.
“With all due respect,” David said, “the word of the United States President wouldn’t be good enough for me without verification.”
Samuel Brooks stood up. “We’re through here. Come along, Bevis.”
“Yes,” Mac said. “Go along, little Bevis.”
Bevis thrust his finger in Mac’s face. “You just wait. You have no idea who you’re messing with.”
Mac narrowed his eyes and took in the finger. “Remove that finger or lose it.”
The two men locked their eyes on each other.
With Bevis close to him, Mac’s attention was diverted by the space above the suspect’s eyes, around his eyebrows. Mac spied bits of new hair growth and the perfect shape of his eyebrows. Plucked eyebrows? Seriously? Mac’s i
ntense glare changed to one of curiosity.
“Come, Bevis,” the lawyer ordered for him to fall in behind him.
Mac leaned out into the hallway. He waited to hear Bevis and his lawyer leave the police station before turning to David, who was smirking at him. “Did you see that?”
“Yes, I did,” the police chief replied.
“What kind of man plucks his eyebrows?”
“That wasn’t what I was talking about,” David chuckled. “It’s not that strange. Believe it or not, a lot of men I know have their eyebrows cleaned up—Ben Fleming, for one.”
Mac exhaled. “You’re kidding. I never noticed that about Ben. I’ve known him for three years and—are you sure?”
“He and I have our hair done by the same stylist,” David said. “You aren’t supposed to notice it. You have to understand, many of the men here in Spencer are in high-profile positions—politicians and CEOs. Physical appearance is a huge thing, and it can have an indirect connection to their success or failure. Bevis is a junior partner at a big law firm in the Washington, DC, area. He’s trying to start a career in politics. Those waxed eyebrows as just as important in creating his image as that Porsche he drives.” With a shake of his head, he gestured in the direction of the parking lot outside where Bevis’ sports car had been parked when they pulled in.
“I respect the Porsche more than I do the eyebrows,” Mac said. “They’re arched like a woman’s.”
“I admit Bevis does go further with his eyebrows than most men I know who have it done,” David said. “At the salon Ben and I go to, some men will have their backs and shoulders waxed.” A wicked grin crossed his face. “Haven’t you noticed by now? Spencer is a whole different world. I can give you the name of Ben’s and my stylist.”
Mac waved his hand at him. “No, thanks.”
“Maybe you’d like to have your brows done.”
“Forget it.”
“Suit yourself,” David said with a shrug of his shoulders. “Back to the case. Did that alibi sound slightly familiar to you?”
“Very familiar,” Mac replied. “You remembered I told you that the senator gave the same alibi the night Dee Blakeley was murdered. The senator had dinner with his son, and they played chess the whole evening until late into the night. No one was at the house to verify his alibi then, either.”
David rubbed his hands together. “Two women. Both women have the ability to ruin the senator and his reputation—”
“Not only would he have been run out of office, but Senator Palazzi also would have had to stand trial, and he could have gone to jail if Dee had testified against him,” Mac said.
David added, “If Khloe had made her announcement in that interview and played that tape, she would have ruined his reputation. Other women he’d raped throughout the years may have felt compelled to come forward.”
“Both women end up murdered,” Mac said, “and both times, the senator and Bevis were playing chess at the time of the murder.”
“Do they think we’re stupid?” David sounded offended. “Why use the same alibi?”
Mac laughed. “Kind of reminds me of something my adoptive mother used to tell me. The worst thing about lying is that you have to remember the lies you tell. Otherwise, you’re bound to slip up because you forgot something. The advantage of the truth is that you never have to remember it to keep it straight because it’s the truth. It’s been twelve years since Dee Blakeley’s murder. They forgot they’d used that lie already.” Mac jerked his thumb toward the interrogation room down the hallway. “Ready to go tackle another liar?”
“Cameron will sic Irving on us if we exclude her,” David said. “I think she’s back in the squad room.” Seeing Mac studying his face, he added, “To answer your other question—no, I do not have my eyebrows waxed.”
“Thank you for telling me that.” Mac turned to head down the hall to the squad room. “I feel much better.”
David fell in behind him. “But I do have my nails buffed.”
“I wish you hadn’t told me that.”
They found Cameron in the squad room sitting next to a desk where Archie was using her laptop to research the major players.
“Hello, beautiful.” Mac gave Archie a quick kiss on the top of her head.
Casting a sideways glance in Cameron’s direction, Archie swooned. “Oh, Mac, say that again. I could listen to you talk all day long.”
“You had to tell her,” Mac said to Cameron.
Kicking back in her seat, the detective laced her fingers behind her head and laughed. “Some things are too good to keep to yourself.”
“It’s going to be years before I live this down.” With a sigh, Mac asked Archie, “Have you found anything interesting on our suspects?”
“I’ve been digging a little deeper into the life of Nick’s sugar momma,” Archie said. “According to what I’ve been able to uncover, Sheila McGrath is fifty-six years old and isn’t employed. Her money is inherited from her husband, Richard McGrath, who was killed in a multi-vehicle accident on the Capital Beltway almost four years ago. He was a CEO of a computer company. He left Sheila a twenty million dollar estate. Since she’s been widowed, she’s been spending her inheritance like water. Trips out of the country. Spa treatments. Cosmetic surgery. Jewelry and expensive clothes.”
“And keeping a man,” Cameron said.
Struck with a thought, Cameron and Mac exchanged glances. When Mac turned around, he saw the same question on David’s face.
Archie voiced their question. “If she’s widowed, then why hide Nick? Why not just move him in with her?”
“Maybe she has children who would disapprove,” Mac said.
“No children,” Archie said.
“She doesn’t live there all the time.” Cameron scratched her ear. “And her home address is someplace else. That says she’s hiding something.” She asked Archie, “Did you say she was fifty-six years old?”
Archie nodded her head. “Which could explain the shopping spree and cosmetic surgery and shacking up with a younger man. I mean, she’s middle aged and recently widowed. She’s having a mid-life crisis and trying to regain her youth. Take a look at all the cosmetic surgery. Nose job. Tummy tuck. Liposuction. Lip implants.”
“Lip implants?” Cameron asked. “What do you implant in your lips?”
“Silicone implants,” Archie said. “Made of the same stuff that women have implanted to make their breasts larger.”
“Why?” the detective asked.
“To make their lips plumper,” Archie replied.
“Again, I ask why?”
“Because…” Archie responded with a shrug.
Mac cleared his throat to draw their attention back to the case. “Cameron, did the next-door neighbor say anything about Nick’s quote-unquote-wife being older than him?”
“None,” Cameron replied. “I think she would have if she had noticed.”
“If she’s having a mid-life crisis,” David said, “that could explain her flipping out and killing her romantic rivals for Nick’s attention. After all, she’s paying him to be her lover.”
“But they have only been living there for eighteen months,” Mac noted. “Nick has only been getting an allowance for that long. Amber Houston was killed well over a year before Nick hooked up with Sheila McGrath.”
“Before becoming Sheila’s gigolo, Nick was pursuing a Hollywood career,” Archie said.
“That’s right,” Cameron snapped her fingers. “Remember what the producer said? He was up for a part, but when it got out that he was straight, he lost it and his career was over. That was when he took this set up.”
“Nick’s career flop was Sheila’s beefcake gain,” Mac said. “Makes me wonder who outed him in Hollywood.”
“Maybe Tiffany Blanchard, who was murdered at the same time,” Cameron said.
“Sheila McGrath clearly benefited from the outing and Tiffany’s murder,” Mac said.
“This case is going in ten different di
rections,” Cameron said with a groan. “We have the rapist senator, the spoiled son with anger management issues, the has-been gay reality star turned straight gigolo, and now the millionaire widow suffering from a mid-life crisis getting stuff implanted in her lips. I say let’s choose a psychopath and go with it.”
“I think Nick is at the heart of these murders,” David said. “We can connect him to every one of the three victims. We can’t connect the senator and Bevis to Tiffany or Amber.”
“Like Nick is going to cop to anything,” Cameron said.
“Unless…” Mac’s voice trailed off.
“Unless what?” Archie asked.
“Nick loves to role play,” Mac said. “So let’s give him a role to play.”
With his arms folded across his chest, Nick Fields was sitting back in his seat at the table. “So when are you going to spring me from this hole?”
After slapping the case file down onto the table, Cameron slipped off her jacket to reveal her tight shirt, which hugged her slender body, and slid into the chair across from him.
Nick looked across the table at her. Maybe it was because they were in the bright light of the interrogation room that he noticed more color on her face. The green specks in her eyes jumped out at him. The waves of her auburn hair brought out her cheekbones. The corners of his lips tugged upward at the sight of her.
“Nick,” Cameron said, “you’ve got quite a reputation with the ladies.” The corner of her lip curled.
“It’s a talent.” Nick grinned.
“Amber Houston…” She leaned forward. He could see down the front of her shirt. “That strip club was packed that night she went with her friends. What was it about her that made you pick her out of the crowd?” she asked in a breathless tone.
He gazed into her eyes. “She wanted me. She was crazy about me, and she let me know it. After the show when the club closed, all of the women would go home with their fantasies. Not Amber. She wanted me, and she stayed after to let me know that I could have her—anything I wanted, she’d let me have.” He wet his lips. “All I had to do was ask, and it was mine to have.”
“A lot of money disappeared out of her bank account before she went missing,” Cameron said. “Did it go to you? Is that what you asked for?”
