by Lauren Carr
“What are you going to buy it with?” David asked, “The ten mil you have in the Cayman Islands?”
At that, Scales face became paler.
David grinned up at Bogie.
In the interrogation room, Mac chuckled along with them. “We have him.”
“That’s what you’re afraid of people finding out,” David said. “That’s why you were so anxious to pay off Lieutenant Bixby toallow the Ramsay case to go cold. You couldn’t afford to have the authorities poking around too much.”
“Are you talking about that woman that tried to shake us down about Ilysa’s murder? I told you and that woman detective, she was already dead when I got there.”
“Why did you go there?” David asked.
“Because that was where she told me to meet her and take one hundred and fifty thousand dollars.”
“How did you set up the meeting?”
Scales rolled his eyes. “Hathaway called me a little after nine o’clock yesterday morning at my office in Pittsburgh. He said one of your people was trying to shake him down by claiming that she had information that would hurt him or make him look guilty of Ilysa’s murder. He told Kaplan to take care of it—”
“Which meant what?” Bogie asked.
Scales sucked in a deep breath. “You met Hathaway. He’s the straightest of straight arrows. He wanted this blackmailer caught and locked up—after she told us who killed Ilysa.”
David said, “That was the last thing you wanted, because it might come out that you’ve been stealing government secrets from your clients and selling them to our enemies.”
“You have no proof of that.”
“Are you sure about that?” David leaned toward him and lowered his voice. “What if I told you that we have proof that you were in Deep Creek Lake when Ilysa Ramsay was murdered?”
Scales’s eyes narrowed.
In the observation room, Cameron asked Mac, “Do we have proof of that?”
“We can get it.”
Joshua said, “As slow as he’s answering, I think David’s bluff worked. He’s got to think about how best to answer. Continue denying any wrongdoing, or come clean and make a deal.”
“I did not kill Ilysa Ramsay,” Scales said. “Her team was supposed to be the best. They were highly recommended. But as soon as she married Hathaway everything went haywire. First of all, she disappeared and no one knew where she was. She was to meet Hathaway for a rocket launching in Arizona, but something happened and she didn’t show up. Hathaway was frantic.”
David asked, “Was that in June 2003?”
“It was right after they were married.” Scales shrugged. “Maybe. Then she showed up. I forget what she said had happened. But weeks of work went to pot. Then, Hathaway was working on this huge new system and I got a lot of interest in that. But then, things went real bad.”
“I know how that can be,” David said like they were two drinking buddies at the bar. “How bad did it get?”
“The worst,” George said. “That little bitch...She kept nosing around and asking questions. Next thing I know, she has my account records and a recording of me and Kaplan—Bitch!”
George dropped back in his seat and clinched his jaw.
“What type of recording?” When he received no answer, David shrugged his shoulders. “We found out about your bank account. The money is being transferred from your mother’s account. Now, considering that she’s a nursing home resident, we know the money is being laundered through her account. We’re going to find out, Scales. So you might as well fess up.” He leaned across the table and asked in a low voice, “Who have you been selling our secrets to?”
“It’s not from selling secrets,” George smirked.
In the observation room, Joshua’s eyes lit up. “Kaplan is on the board. Scales has all these executive clients—It’s insider trading. They’re doing inside trading under Scales’s mother’s name.”
It was as if David heard him on the other side of the two-way mirror. “The money was transferred into your account from an online investment firm. You’ve been playing the stock market in your mother’s name using inside information that you’ve been collecting from your clients on the boards of defense companies.”
George’s eyes narrowed to slits.
“Peyton Kaplan’s account is his cut from money that you made based on information he gave you.” David chuckled. “Ilysa Ramsay found out and blackmailed you two.”
“Kaplan never knew that I had hired Gruskonov and his team,” Scales said. “He thought I had gotten mixed up in it because of the insider trading that Ilysa nailed us on. I figured she would just play this game until she got the information for me to sell, but then—” He slammed his hand down on the table and glared at the police chief. “The little bitch turned on us.”
“How did she turn on you?” David asked. “Was she holding out for a bigger cut?”
“Worse than that,” Scales said. “She recorded everything. She was going to turn Kaplan and me in for the theft and the insider trading.”
“Guess that goes to show you,” David said, “there’s no loyalty among thieves.”
Batting his eyelashes, Scales said in a mocking tone, “She was in love.” He turned serious. “This was her last job for Gruskonov. She didn’t want to do it, but Gruskonov forced her hand, and then she turned the tables on us. As soon as it was over, Kaplan were to resign and go away quietly, or go to jail.”
“Sounds like a good reason for killing her to me,” Bogie said. “Don’t you think so, Chief?”
“I can see why you’d be furious,” David said. “It must have been some fight you had with her for messing up your plans.”
“No!” Scales’s eyes became wide. “She had no idea she was working for me. That was part of the set up. The only one who knew the players was Victor Gruskonov—who disappeared off the face of the earth. I assumed he took the merchandise. But then, when Nancy told me that Faraday had the painting, I thought maybe—it was worth a shot to see if the merchandise was still with the painting. So, I contacted the media about it so that when the painting was stolen, you’d think it was someone else in the art world who took it—maybe even Gruskonov, who stole it in the first place.”
“Actually,” David said, “he was killed in a car accident the night of the pick-up. He never had a chance to get the painting.”
“Then, who stole it?” Scales asked. “Did they get the merchandise?”
“Who else knew about your side business?”
Scales was silent.
“Who’s your client?” David asked, “Nancy Kaplan? Her husband was alibiing someone else at the time—”
“You mean Susan Dulin,” Scales said.
“Peyton Kaplan was with Susan Dulin. And you were with—”
“Okay, I was in Deep Creek Lake,” Scales confessed. “I was staying in the other wing at the Spencer Inn. As soon as Peyton slipped out at midnight, after he thought Nancy was asleep, she called me. I came over and left at four o’clock, when the doorman called to tell me that Peyton was back.”
In the observation room, Cameron laughed. “What is wrong with these people? Why do they even bother getting married when they’re all sleeping with other people?”
Mac assured her, “We’re not all like that.”
In the interrogation room, David sighed. “Does Nancy Kaplan know about your side business?”
“Why do you think I do it?” George said. “She would never leave Peyton for a poor man. I thought that as soon as I made enough to have as much money as these guys I represent, I was going to take Nancy and we were going to run off to the Cayman Islands, and I could be one of them instead of working for them.”
David slapped his hand down on the case file and stood up. “Instead you’re going to a federal pen and living like the traitor that you are.” He told Bogie, “Lock him up.”
“Gladly,” the deputy chief replied.
In the interrogation room, Mac, Joshua, and Cameron turned
away.
“Scales didn’t kill Ilysa and he didn’t steal that painting,” she said. “I don’t see him having the guts to kill Bixby.”
“I believe I know who did,” Mac said.
Chapter Thirteen
They arrived at the Hathaway estate in a convoy. Mac and Archie were in her SUV, which had Gnarly riding in the back seat; David and Bogie rode in Spencer’s police cruiser; and Joshua and Cameron brought up the rear in her Pennsylvania state police cruiser.
Greta was not happy to see a crowd standing on the doorstep. “Can I help you?”
Mac asked her, “Is Susan Dulin in?”
“She’s in her office in the east wing.” She opened the door to let them in. “Do keep that dog on a leash.”
Gnarly regarded her order with groan.
Greta led them to the back of the mansion where they went down a hallway to the right and through the kitchen, which was littered with grocery bags and boxes of food and kitchen supplies.
While he hurried behind her, Mac asked, “I understand you left something out in your statement to the police about the night of Ilysa’s murder.”
She didn’t bother turning around. “What did I leave out?”
“About you not being asleep in your room that night.”
Greta stopped so fast that Mac collided into her. She turned around. “Who told you that?”
“A witness,” Mac said.
Archie added, “Two, in fact.”
Greta looked at them. “Who? What did they tell you?”
“About your fondness for skinny dipping down at the lake late at night,” Archie said.
A grin crossed Greta’s face. “Is that all?”
David asked, “Why didn’t you tell us when we asked where you’d been?”
“Susan asked me to lie,” Greta said. “If she admitted to being with Mr. Kaplan, then his wife would have found out. If I said I was out swimming, you would ask me if I saw anything and if I said I saw nothing, and someone had seen Susan then—It was easier to lie. It isn’t like I saw anything that could help to find Ms. Ramsay’s killer.” She peered at David. “Am I in trouble?”
David glanced over at Mac who was examining a box of strawberries on the kitchen counter.
“These are some enormous strawberries,” Mac said. “How much do they cost?” He picked up the receipt from the kitchen counter. “Hey, Archie, do you know how to make strawberry shortcake?”
“Do you mind?” Greta grabbed the receipt from his hand. “I bought them at the farmer’s market this morning. Mr. Hathaway likes his produce fresh.” She shooed Gnarly down from where he was sniffing a box. “Will you get your dog out of the kitchen please? I don’t want dog hair in Mr. Hathaway’s dinner.”
Archie pulled Gnarly down from where he was counter surfing with his front paws up on the counter.
“Another thing,” Mac asked the housekeeper, “When you were swimming naked in the lake, were the lights on or off in the studio?”
Greta stared at him for a long beat before answering, “I don’t remember.”
“Are you sure?” Mac looked back at her. “It’s important.”
She shook her head. “I’m sorry. I wish I could help.”
Mac told her, “It would mean so much to Mr. Hathaway if he could find out the truth about what happened to his wife. Closure in these types of things mean a lot.”
“We have to talk to Ms. Dulin,” Cameron reminded Mac in a sharp voice.
“Think about it,” Mac told Greta.
The housekeeper gestured to the other side of the kitchen. “Their office is this way.”
When they stepped down into the next room, the atmosphere took on that of an office with desks, computers, printers, and file cabinets. Susan Dulin looked up from her laptop at the group that filed in. “What is this about?”
Mac began, “You were with Peyton Kaplan in the back of his SUV at the time of Ilysa Ramsay’s murder.”
“I told you that last night.” She sat back in her chair and interlaced her fingers across her midriff. “We can alibi each other. We were together almost all night when Ilysa was murdered. Now tell me something new.”
“Mac, what are you doing here?” Neal Hathaway came out of his office with Scott and Rachel.
“We know who stole Ilysa’s painting,” Mac announced.
Neal followed Mac’s eyes to Susan at her desk.
Rachel gasped and covered her mouth with her hand. “Susan! How could you?” When the assistant glared up at her, a wicked grin crossed Rachel’s face.
“Susan?” Neal asked in a low voice. “Now you?”
Mac leaned over her desk. “When did you decide to take it?”
“You can’t prove anything.”
Bogie said, “The paint was still fresh when it was stolen. Will we find your fingerprints on the canvas when we dust it?”
Mac sat on the corner of her desk. “Peyton Kaplan dumped you that night. It was four in the morning when you came back to the estate after getting dumped.”
Archie said, “He dumped you because you didn’t have enough money for him.”
“You went right past the studio and saw the lights on,” Mac said. “That made it very bright.”
She leaned towards him. “I told you the lights were off when I came back.”
“According to Rachel’s statement,” Mac said, “she saw you going down the path toward the lake. She said she could see you because the lights were on. That was right after one o’clock, shortly after the time of the murder. While she was watching you leave, Greta came in from her swim in the lake.”
“That’s right.” Rachel nodded her head quickly. “They were on when I saw you going down that path at around one o’clock.”
“The lights were off when I found her the next morning,” Neal said.
David said, “Since you were seen on the path after the time of the murder, and the lights were on, then they must have been turned off by someone else.”
“Like whoever took the painting,” Mac said.
Archie pointed out, “If the lights were off, you couldn’t have found your way up the path to the house. It would have been too dark.”
“That’s right,” Rachel said. “There’s no other lights on that side of the estate.”
Mac resumed, “When you were coming back to the main house, after getting dumped by Peyton, you looked inside the studio and found Ilysa Ramsay dead. Her painting was wrapped up for Victor Gruskonov to pick up.”
Bogie said, “Which he couldn’t do on account of him being dead.”
Cameron said. “So you thought, ‘Hmm, if I took this painting and sold it for a lot of bucks, then maybe I’ll have enough money for Peyton to leave his wife for me.’” She shook her head. “Breaking the law for a man, especially a pig like Kaplan, is never a good plan.”
David said, “Somehow, Rachel found out.”
Rachel’s eyes widened. “What do you mean I found out?”
The police chief recalled, “When I arrived at the scene, you and Susan were fighting. You told her to give it back.” He cocked his head at her. “What did you want her to give back?”
Scott stepped away from her.
Neal gasped, “I remember you coming into the studio and screaming. Then, you ran back out.”
“And confronted Susan,” David said. “You’ve known all along that Susan took the painting but said nothing.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?” Scott demanded in voice so loud and sharp that it sounded like an explosion.
A smug grin crossed Susan’s lips. “Haven’t you figured it out yet, Scott? Rachel does have her price. I gave her half of what I sold the painting for, in exchange for her silence.”
“Why?” Scott demanded from his wife to know. “You don’t need money. I give you everything you ask for.”
“I wanted some of my own…for a rainy day.” She rolled her eyes. “And you’d be surprised how often it rains in my world.”
“Especially when you s
tick it up your nose,” Susan said.
“You bitch!” She delivered a slap across Susan’s face with the speed of a whip.
Scott grabbed her around the waist to pull her back. While he held her back, Susan jumped out of her chair to slap Rachel repeatedly with both hands.
“Stop it!” David stepped between the warring women to push Susan back only to get slapped across the face.
“You never learn, boy.” Bogie grabbed Susan by the wrist and twisted her arm to cuff her. “You’re under arrest, Susan Dulin.”
“For what? The statute of limitations is over for stealing the painting. You’ve got nothing on me.”
“How about killing Ilysa?” Neal said.
“I didn’t kill her. She was already dead when I stole the painting.”
“For starters,” Bogie said. “You’re under arrest for assaulting a police chief.” He nodded with his head in the direction of David, who was still rubbing his cheek.
Neal screamed at her, “You’re also fired! While you’re locked up, I’m throwing all of your stuff in the lake.”
“Scott baby.” Rachel reached for her husband’s hand.
When she closed in, Scott stuck his hand in her pocket and pulled out a clear plastic bag containing white powder. “Susan wasn’t lying. You have been sticking our money up your nose. I’ve been suspecting it for a long time, but didn’t want to admit it.” Shaking off her touch as if she held a contagious disease, he backed away from her. “Get away from me!” He turned to David. “Isn’t this illegal?”
“It’s called possession.” David grabbed her by the wrist. “I’m afraid you’re under arrest, Rachel.”
“You can’t arrest me.” When she tried to pull away, David twisted her arm to slap the cuffs on her. “Don’t you know who I am?”
“Not anymore,” Scott said to her. “We’re getting a divorce. You could have helped them find out who killed Ilysa years ago, but instead you took advantage of her murder to make money for what?” He shook the bag of powder in her face.” “She was my stepmother! She was my family!” ”
Neal asked, “Which one killed Ilysa? I want to know.”
