How to Murder a Millionaire (Movie Club Mysteries, Book 3): An Irish Cozy Mystery

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How to Murder a Millionaire (Movie Club Mysteries, Book 3): An Irish Cozy Mystery Page 20

by Zara Keane


  “It’s not like I took out an ad for the killer to cut my brake lines.”

  “I know, but I feel terrible that you were in danger.” He shifted his weight and his gaze softened. “You mean a lot to me, Maggie. I don’t want to see you hurt.”

  I blinked, searched for the appropriate response, and came up blank. Before I could jolt my dazed brain into cooperating, Lenny ambled back into the living room, carrying our coats, my purse, and two rainbow-colored party bags.

  “We get party bags?” I asked in incredulity. “In the middle of a raid?”

  “Looks like Naomi prepared in advance. I put your phone in your party bag, by the way.” Lenny turned to Reynolds and grinned. “Hey, Sarge.”

  The policeman’s eyes stood out on stalks at the sight of my friend in a mankini. “I got to hand it to you, Logan. You can wear that thing without a blush.”

  Lenny grinned. “Why not? Everyone else at the party was wearing similar—or worse. Besides, this was my first official undercover job for Movie Reel Investigations.”

  “Are you now on staff?” He cast me a warning look. “Careful about regulations. He’ll need a license if he works too many hours.”

  “Yes, Sergeant. I’ll get on it as soon as I get some cash.”

  “We’ll be like Magnum, P.I.,” Lenny said, unselfconsciously freeing one of his butt cheeks of a stray piece of Lycra. “We can train Bran to be a sniffer dog and bust criminals.”

  “That’s a frightening thought,” Reynolds said, trying not to laugh. “Maybe I need to rethink my decision to go back to Whisper Island if you two will be scouring the place for lawbreakers.”

  “You’ll be delighted to have our help,” I said with a grin. “Just think of all the information we’ll be able to weasel out of people that you can’t.”

  “We’ll see about that,” he said, but his tone was teasing. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

  When we stepped outside the house, a younger, blonder version of Reynolds leaned against a squad car.

  “Maggie and Lenny, this is my brother, Gavin. Gavin, these are friends of mine from Whisper Island.”

  If Gavin were surprised to be introduced to two attendees of the kink party he and his coworkers had just raided, he didn’t show it. He pumped my hand. “Nice to meet you, Maggie.”

  “You’re very relaxed,” I remarked. “I take it you aren’t arresting anyone tonight?”

  Gavin Reynolds laughed. “Nah. We’ve given the house owner a stern lecture about keeping the noise down, but other than that, it’s her house. There were no signs of illegal activities on the premises, just a bunch of people in ridiculous outfits.”

  “I don’t think the neighbors appreciate the parties,” Reynolds added. “They probably feel they lower the tone of the neighborhood.”

  While Gavin chatted with Lenny, Reynolds sidled over to me. “It’s still pretty early. Want to have a proper brainstorm about Huff’s murder?”

  My chest swelled at the prospect of being included in the investigation again. “Definitely. Lenny and I are staying the night at his brother’s apartment. You could come back with us and we can pool our information.”

  “I suspect you’ll be able to tell me more than I can tell you.” He indicated his head. “I’ve been out of the loop.”

  I frowned. “Are you sure you shouldn’t go back to your brother’s place and get some sleep?”

  “No way. All I’ve done these last few days is sleep.” He dropped his voice to a whisper. “I love my sister-in-law, but she fussed. I’m going stir crazy. That’s why I persuaded Gavin to let me come with him tonight.”

  “Bet you didn’t expect to participate in a raid and find me there.”

  He chuckled. “That was a very pleasant surprise.”

  “When you two are finished flirting. Maggie and I’d better make tracks.” Lenny tugged at the thin material of his jacket. “It’s not like we’re wearing much underneath our coats.”

  “Would it be okay if Reynolds came back to Jake’s apartment with us? We want to compare notes.”

  “Fine by me,” Lenny said, “but what about his head?”

  “That’s exactly what I was about to say,” added Gavin. “Susie will kill me if you go off boozing.”

  “No alcohol for me,” Reynolds said, winking at me. “This is strictly work.”

  Gavin shrugged. “Okay, but don’t say I didn’t warn you. Susie’s not happy that I took you with me tonight.”

  “I won’t be late. I’ll get a taxi back to yours and be in bed by eleven.”

  “Okay.” Gavin grinned. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

  “That doesn’t eliminate many options,” Reynolds whispered into my ear, making me laugh.

  Lenny unlocked the van and slid behind the wheel. I threw my purse into the back and was about to climb in when the clickety-click sound of a person running in high heels drew my attention. Reynolds and I turned to see a frantic Judy running toward us.

  She staggered to a halt when she reached us, breathing heavily. “I saw him. I saw the man you’re looking for.”

  Reynolds shot me a bewildered look, but I focused on Judy. “Where?”

  The woman pointed back the way she’d come. “He was lurking in the bushes at the end of the street. Scared the daylights out of me.”

  I was in motion before I’d fully registered the significance of her words, my coat flapping around me, the party bag still in my hand. “Come on,” I yelled over my shoulder to Reynolds. “Judy’s talking about the guy she saw go into Jimmy Wright’s barn.”

  “Maggie, wait—” he shouted.

  But I kept running. I tore down the pavement in the direction of the bushes Judy had mentioned and scanned the terrain. No guy was lurking.

  Ignoring the shouts and pounding feet behind me, I hung a left and sped down a narrow side street. My coat was half off, but I had no time to secure the belt. Sure enough, a man in a baseball cap was ahead of me, running at full tilt. I accelerated into a sprint.

  My quarry was quick, but I’d spent months running after Bran, and I was in good shape. I was gaining on him fast. And then disaster struck. My foot caught on the end of my trailing coat, catapulting me forward. I landed with a thud. My injuries from the incident on Wednesday burned anew.

  Swearing under my breath, I disentangled myself from the coat and threw it onto the ground. The guy I was chasing had reached the end of the lane. He swerved to the right, out of my line of vision. No way was I losing him. I forced oxygen into my lungs and took off.

  When I got to the end of the lane, the man in the baseball cap was crossing the street, his progress slowed by an oncoming car. I leaped into action. He jerked his neck, reeled back at the sight of me in my barely there leotard, and reacted too late when I charged. I accelerated my speed, leaped through the air, and hit him in the chest with both feet.

  We crashed to the ground in a tangle of limbs. The contents of my party bag spilled onto the asphalt, revealing my phone, an array of flavored condoms, and a pair of fluffy pink handcuffs.

  Winded, I stared down into the face of Doug Huffington. He squirmed beneath me and tried to push me off him, accidentally brushing against my chest in the process.

  “Hey,” I yelled. “Keep your paws to yourself.”

  “How else am I supposed to get free? You’re naked.” Doug’s face was a maelstrom of rage and confusion.

  I seized the opportunity of his distraction to show off my excellent right hook, connecting with his jaw with expert precision. On instinct Doug’s hands flew to his face, leaving his torso exposed. I punched him hard in the stomach. He roared and rolled into the fetal position. I yanked his arms behind his back, felt around for the handcuffs, and secured them his wrists.

  “Holy wow, Maggie,” a voice said behind me, “your boob’s hanging loose.”

  “A gentleman wouldn’t mention my state of undress, Lenny.” I staggered to my feet and regarded the fluffy handcuffs. “I need to thank Naomi for that par
ty bag.”

  Strong arms slipped a coat around my shoulders. “Much as I appreciate the view, I suspect you’re cold.” Reynolds’s voice shook with laughter. “Once again, Maggie Doyle takes down a suspect in a spectacular fashion—pun intended. I predict Movie Reel Investigations will be flooded with clients come Monday morning.”

  I huddled into the jacket, comforted by its traces of his spicy aftershave. “As long as they don’t need me to track down missing sheep, bring it on.”

  27

  THE MORNING after Doug Huffington’s arrest, Lenny and I caught the first ferry back to Whisper Island. I’d arranged to meet Reynolds at the station for a late breakfast, so we swung by the Movie Theater Café on our way to stock up on freshly baked scones and takeout coffees.

  “Promise me you’ll fill me in on all the details,” Lenny said when he dropped me off at the Whisper Island Garda Station parking lot. “I hate not being involved.”

  “I’ll tell you whatever I can, I swear, but you know Reynolds. Unless a detail is public knowledge, he’ll make me promise not to share the info.”

  “I know,” he grumbled. “You need to hurry up and make money so you can hire me to be your official assistant.”

  I leaned across the transmission and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “I’m working on it. Thanks again for your help in tracking down Judy. Without her input, we’d never have caught Doug.”

  My friend grinned. “No problem. I’ve gotta impress my future boss.”

  I laughed. “Consider her impressed.”

  I waved goodbye to my friend and bounded up the steps to the station’s entrance. Despite last night’s dramatic events, I’d woken early, and I couldn’t wait to pump Reynolds for the details of his conversation with Doug Huffington. I shoved open the station’s door, and my excitement dimmed at the sight of Sergeant O’Shea’s florid complexion behind the front desk.

  The man’s eyes bulged when he saw me. He jabbed a meaty finger in my direction. “You—”

  “Morning, Maggie.” Reynolds appeared at the door of his office, cutting short whatever blistering diatribe his coworker had intended to deliver.

  My gaze fell to the extra coffee I’d purchased for the person on desk duty. I’d hoped it would be Timms. In the war between my dislike of O’Shea and my compulsion to do the right thing, good manners won out. I shoved a latte across the counter. “Here.”

  His jaw dropped, and he stuttered something unintelligible.

  “I think the words you’re looking for are ‘Thank you.’” Reynolds’s mouth twitched with amusement at O’Shea’s belligerent expression. “Come on, Maggie. Those scones smell heavenly.”

  He ushered me into his neat office where he’d already cleared his desk and set it with plates and cutlery. When our scones were cut, buttered, and piled high with strawberry jam and clotted cream, I pounced.

  “Don’t leave me in suspense. What did Doug have to say?”

  “A lot, as it happens. We took him to Gavin’s station in Galway for his initial questioning, and he’d blabbed most of the pertinent information on the way in the squad car. He clammed up after his lawyer arrived, but we already had enough to charge him with obstructing justice and for being an accessory to murder after the fact.”

  I leaned forward, eyes wide. “Ooh…more details, please.”

  “Doug admits to visiting Whisper Island on the day Jimmy was murdered. He says his mother revealed that Jimmy was Amb’s biological father, and more than likely Doug’s father as well.”

  “Interesting. So Doug wanted to confront Jimmy?”

  “Not confront,” Reynolds corrected. “Doug wanted to visit the man without the rest of his family knowing. He’d discussed the matter with his brother, but Amb wanted nothing to do with Jimmy. He was of the opinion that contacting their real father could jeopardize their inheritance if Huff were to find out, but Doug was curious to meet the man who was probably his real father.”

  I took a bite of my scone. I was sure it was delicious, as Noreen’s baked goods always were, but I barely tasted it with this morning’s excitement. “You mentioned charging Doug with being an accessory to murder after the fact. Did Doug help Huff cover up his involvement in Jimmy’s death?”

  “Not exactly. After he’d killed Jimmy in a fit of rage over Jimmy threatening to tell the world he was Amb and Doug’s biological father, Huff drove away from the farm at speed, and almost crashed into Doug’s rental car. When he recognized who was behind the wheel, Huff slowed down, and Doug persuaded him to tell him what had happened.”

  “Whoa. So Huff confided in Doug?” I asked, intrigued by this unexpected turn of events. “He must have been panicking.”

  “Yeah. Huff admitted to killing Jimmy on the spur of the moment. Doug pumped him for details, and then agreed to return to the scene of the crime to get rid of the rake—Huff knew his fingerprints would be on it. Meanwhile, Huff disposed of his bloodstained shirt—we’re still looking for that, by the way.”

  I scrunched up my forehead. “I don’t understand. The rake was still in Jimmy’s body when I found him a couple of hours later. What went wrong with the plan?”

  Reynolds grinned. “Nothing went wrong. Doug went to the farm as he’d promised Huff. As Judy described, he went into the barn, stayed a few minutes, and left.”

  “Without disturbing the rake?”

  “Doug had no intention of touching the rake. He said he was never sure he’d help Huff and was certain he wouldn’t the instant he saw Jimmy’s body.”

  “It was the sight of the mankini,” I said. “That would bring anyone to their senses.”

  Reynolds chuckled. “Doug wasn’t too keen on discussing his biological father’s choice of attire. What he did make clear was that Huff’s actions had destroyed any chance for him to get to know Jimmy.”

  “So Doug left the rake untouched in the hope that Huff’s fingerprints would incriminate him?”

  “Pretty much.”

  I turned the matter over in my mind. “Okay,” I said finally. “That wraps up the Jimmy Wright murder case, but if Huff killed Jimmy, who killed Huff? You didn’t mention charging Doug with that crime.”

  Reynolds grimaced. “Not yet, but I’m working on it. He admits to bashing me over the head, but he denies deliberately leaving me to drown.”

  I let loose a string of unladylike expletives. “He left you facedown in a stream,” I said in searing tones. “What did he expect would happen?”

  “I know. I have no intention of letting him wriggle off the hook.” He took a sip from his coffee cup. “We found Julie’s pink poncho, by the way. Or rather, Rob Hennessy found it.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “Where was it?”

  “Doug had stuffed it into the compost heap.” A wry smile twisted his lips. “I’m sure you heard that Sergeant O’Shea dragged Rob in for questioning several times, but couldn’t amass sufficient evidence to charge him?”

  “I heard. The man is a total fool.”

  “Unsurprisingly, being a suspect for a murder he didn’t commit infuriated Rob. He and his brother tore up the Marley House gardens looking for that poncho in the hope it would exonerate him.”

  “And they struck gold in the compost heap,” I finished for him. “Did the poncho contain any evidence to link Doug to your attack?”

  “Oh, yeah. We found two sets of fingerprints, as well as a trace of my blood. One set belonged to Doug Huffington, and we presume the other is your cousin’s, although we’ll have to check to be sure.”

  “If Doug denies trying to kill you, what was his motive for attacking you?”

  “He claims he did it because he was afraid I’d identify the real killer. He’d heard O’Shea was incompetent and wanted him in charge of the case.”

  I winced. “Nice guy. Do you believe his denial about killing Huff?”

  Reynolds spread his palms wide. “I’m not sure. If Doug wanted to protect someone, it points to the killer being his brother or sister. He’d gladly throw Brandi to the do
gs.”

  “Or Candace,” I added. “He might try to protect Candace for Amb and Hailey’s sakes.”

  “True, but my money is on Amb or Martha.”

  A memory nagged at me. “Hang on a sec. Rob Hennessy said he saw Martha walking in the gardens with one of her brothers just before you were hit over the head. Martha confirmed that the brother she was with was Doug. So if Martha and Doug were together, wouldn’t she have known he attacked you?”

  “Possibly,” Reynolds said. “I haven’t spoken to her yet, but I intend to.”

  “And then there’s the business of the dead plant,” I murmured, sifting through the oddities in the case.

  Reynolds raised an eyebrow. “Dead plant?”

  “Rob Hennessy told me he found the plant outside Huff and Brandi’s room dead.”

  “How is a dead plant relevant to Huff’s murder?” Reynolds asked, perplexed.

  “I’m not sure that it is, but it’s odd. Rob said the soil smelled of sour milk and weed killer.”

  Reynolds’s sharp mind seized on this information without my needing to spell out the implications. “Someone poisoned milk with weed killer. Why dump it in the plant? Did they intend to kill Huff or Brandi and change their mind?”

  “That’s what I suspect. Either they got a crisis of conscience, or they were disturbed and needed to get rid of the poisoned milk fast.”

  “I’ll ask Amb and Martha about that when I see them later.”

  “Are they still staying at Shamrock Cottages?”

  Reynolds shook his head. “After they learned of Doug’s arrest, Helen was very distressed. Doug, Martha, and the others chose to move to the hotel to be near her.”

  “In other words, Shamrock Cottages is a Huffington-free zone?”

  “Exactly.” He eyed me carefully. “However, I want you to be careful. Doug was prepared to follow you all the way to Galway to see what you and Lenny knew about the murders. It’s likely that Doug killed Huff, but we can’t rule out the others just yet. Don’t be alone with any of them. Actually, I’d prefer if you weren’t alone at all. Could you move back in with Noreen until I wrap up this case?”

 

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