Terminal 9

by Patricia H. Rushford

  She tossed him a smile and patted the car top, then turned to jog up the courthouse steps while Mac took a moment to update his police notebook. Good month for overtime, Mac thought as he recapped his hours this past week. Too bad I never get the chance tospend any of the extra money. He thought briefly about Kristen and Andrew as he tucked the notebook in the glove box and stepped out of the car. Kristen had wanted to cool it, but he wondered if that meant he couldn’t see her at all. Maybe he’d take her and Andrew somewhere special—like the mountains or the beach. Andrew would love a ride on a carousel. Or they could go to a game or a movie.

  Mac stretched, glanced at his watch, then headed for the coffee shop on the corner, two doors down from Addison Shaw’s law office. A “Closed” sign was affixed to the front door. Mac felt bad for Shaw’s secretary, who was probably out of a job by now.

  As Mac started across the street, he spotted a familiar face—the acting police chief, Harry Spalding. He hadn’t seen Spalding since he’d let him have it over releasing the engine that killed Clay Mullins. The guy had been way out of line letting the train go without checking with Mac. The emotions Mac felt when he’d learned a key piece of evidence was being steam cleaned returned as he quickened his pace toward the man. He took a deep breath to settle his angst.

  Spalding was standing in front of the coffee shop smoking a cigarette.

  He took a long draw then tossed the butt into the street. The fact that a police officer would litter said it all in Mac’s book. Spalding oozed of entitlement and dishonesty. Mac thought about his own father and felt his disgust grow even more.

  In light of his actions regarding the release of the rail car and his drive for expediency, Mac wondered if Spalding’s dishonesty included making some kind of deal with Shaw. Maybe Tyler’s 9-1-1 call had been the reason for the guard leaving the scene, but Mac couldn’t help but wonder if Spalding hadn’t also made certain there’d be no officer at the house.

  “Well, well, look who’s here.” Spalding took out a pack of cigarettes for another fix. “You still milking that train accident? You trying to get your picture in the paper or something?”

  Mac stepped up onto the sidewalk and closed in, letting his height advantage intimidate without words. Looking down at the weasel, Mac would have taken great pleasure in telling him that Clay Mullins had been murdered. He wouldn’t mention it—at least not at this point. Mac wasn’t about to share crucial information with a big mouth like Spalding.

  The gold stars, formerly displayed on Spalding’s collar, had been replaced by sergeant chevrons. “You been demoted since the last time we spoke.” Mac made a point to stare at the collar brass longer than necessary.

  With a dour look, he said, “The chief returned from the FBI Academy and decided to make a change in the agency, thanks to a certain lieutenant in your department who pitched a gripe about that train engine. Guess I owe you.”

  “Glad I could help. You could reward me by buying my partner and me some coffee. I was just about to get us some.” Mac felt a modicum of pleasure in upping him in the sarcasm department.

  Spalding took a long draw from the cigarette, never taking his eyes off Mac. “You be careful while you’re in town, Detective. Try not to mess up too many lives in your hunt for fame and fortune.” Spalding blew the smoke in Mac’s direction.

  “Thanks for the advice. If your police career doesn’t work out, you can always get a job at the rail terminal. I’m betting you’re already on the payroll,” Mac said, amused at how he’d managed to handle this situation compared to what he might have done or said in years past.

  Spalding’s face contorted in rage. A group of elderly women exiting the coffee shop kept him from releasing a string of vulgar expletives. Instead, he forced a smile and said, “It’s been great working with you. Be sure to stop by if I can do anything to help your case, Detective McAllister.” He tossed another cigarette butt on the sidewalk next to Mac’s feet.

  “Count on it.” Mac brushed by him and stepped into the coffee shop.

  That went well. Mac could almost hear Kevin’s voice. Actually, the meeting had gone extremely well. Before his days with the department, a physical challenge like that might have been rewarded with a fistfight. But Mac had matured to the point where he could brush more things off. Too bad Kevin hadn’t been there to witness the encounter.

  Mac purchased two sixteen-ounce cups of coffee and a giant cinnamon roll, for he and Dana to split. He had the gal behind the register cut it and place it into two boxes and put them in a bag so he could carry them.

  Mac waited in the car for nearly twenty minutes for Dana to return. He’d consumed his half of the roll and was about to start in on hers when his partner pushed open the giant front doors.

  “I was just coming in to get you; what took so long? Your coffee’s getting cold.”

  Dana’s cheeks were flushed, her dimples deepening as she grinned. “Better head for the office, Mac.” She paused to take a sip of coffee.

  “Why, what’s up?”

  “I got a page from Kelly Cassidy while I was waiting on the subpoena.” Dana held up the paperwork. “I called her back and had quite an interesting conversation.”

  “Well?”

  “Kelly apologized about yesterday and said she wanted to talk to us right away. I told her we could swing by her house, but she wanted to come to our office.” Dana paused to take another drink.

  “No way. When?”

  “As soon as you stop gabbing and start driving.”

  “Better call the office and let Kevin know so they can be on the lookout for her.”

  “Already done.” She opened her bag and sniffed appreciatively. “Thanks, Mac, but I thought you didn’t want anything sweet.”

  “Changed my mind.” Mac pulled out into the street and went on to tell her about his run-in with the ex-acting chief of police.

  “He threatened you?” Dana seemed much more concerned about Spalding’s confrontation than Mac was.

  “I doubt he’ll try anything. He was just blowing smoke.” Mac chuckled. “Literally as well as figuratively.”

  “Maybe so, but I think he might be someone to keep an eye on.”

  “I agree with you there. I’m wondering if he figures into any of this. Spalding’s been playing games with us from the beginning. Releasing the engine that killed Clay, not taking the watch on the house seriously . . .”

  Dana frowned. “You think he had something to do with the lousy watch?”

  “Think about it. There’s a burglary and a fire. Who’s to say he wasn’t in cahoots with Shaw in getting the officer guarding the house to turn his back? Even with Tyler’s 9-1-1 call, the officer would have had time to get back to the house before Shaw got there to do his dirty work.”

  THIRTY-

  FOUR

  AS THEY PLLLED INTO THE BACK LOT, they both caught a glimpse of Kelly’s white BMW in the visitor parking area.

  “Good, she’s here.” Dana released her seat belt and reached for the door.

  “You ready to take the lead on this interview?” Mac asked as they hurried to the door.

  Dana stopped in her tracks. “Sure, if you think I’m up to it.”

  “I don’t want there to be any surprises when we sit down with her. This may be our last chance with her. She obviously trusts you enough to engage in a conversation; it was you she paged, after all. She had my number too.”

  “Okay, let’s see what she has to say first. Who knows where she’s headed with this.”

  When they entered the detectives’ office,Kevin was entertaining Kelly in their small reception area. Mac was glad Dana had called.

  “And here they are now,” Kevin said with his business smile that Mac had grown to recognize, the one where he kept his mouth closed.

  “Hello, Kelly.” Dana offered her hand. “We came as quickly as we could. We had some traffic delays through that construction zone in the industrial area.”

  “No problem. I just arrived myself.�
�� Kelly stood up and adjusted the visitor badge that was clipped to the front pocket of her jeans. “Detective Bledsoe made sure I was comfortable, although he could use a little help with his coffee.” She motioned toward the Styrofoam cup on the table next to her, three-quarters full of inky black brew.

  “Sorry. I guess we like it a little too dark around here.” Kevin gave her an authentic smile.

  “It was a thoughtful gesture just the same.”

  Kevin nodded. “I need to get back to work. It was nice meeting you.” Turning to Mac and Dana, he said, “I need to speak to you two when you get a chance. Unrelated.”

  Kevin winked at Kelly. “You let me know if these two give you any trouble.”

  When Kevin had gone, Dana offered Kelly a warm smile. “We don’t drink his coffee either, so don’t feel bad.” She pointed in the direction of their “soft” interview room. “Please join us in here, where we can talk in private.”

  The room was equipped with a comfortable cushioned couch and two cushioned chairs with floral patterns. It was even supplied with a stock of coloring books and crayons and a couple of teddy bears for juvenile crime victims.

  “Can I get you some water or anything else to drink, so you can wash away that coffee?” Dana offered as they entered the interview room.

  “No thanks; I’m fine. I’d like to get this over with if that’s okay with you.” Kelly took a seat on the couch. Dana and Mac both sat in the high-back chairs after Mac shut the single door to the room. Dana made sure she positioned herself in the seat closest to Kelly, so Kelly’s attention would be focused on her.

  “All right, go ahead.”

  Kelly took a deep breath, her broken exhale giving evidence to her anxiety. “First, you should know this is very difficult for me. I am coming here against the advice of my personal attorney, which I know is foolish, but I need to have this conversation with you alone.”

  “All right, but you understand you don’t have to give a statement.” Dana hesitated, looking for the right words to give the legal admonishment without scaring Kelly away. “I mean, you are free to walk out of here anytime you wish, but if you give a statement it may be used in court at a later date.”

  “Believe me, I understand all of that.” Kelly raked a hand through her tousled hair. “If this wasn’t concerning my own father and brother, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. I have some information, and as painful as it is, I need to tell you.”

  “And that is?”

  “I couldn’t say anything last night.” Kelly glanced at Mac then turned back to Dana. “I was pretty upset, as you can imagine, but when you mentioned the ricin, I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. My husband is involved in some experimental research projects involving ricin. I heard him mention it once during a keynote address at a conference back east and in discussions with colleagues. Experimental research is one of many arms in his department.”

  Mac scribbled down the information, wishing they had discovered this sooner. Eventually they would have. “Go on.”

  “I’d never heard of the stuff before Ray introduced the topic some time ago with regard to medical use. Now, since the terrorist scares, it’s been all over the news as a deadly poison and a possible weapon of mass destruction. Until recently, I always associated it with medical treatment, not as a method of terror or death.”

  “By telling us this,” Dana said, “do you think your husband may have some involvement in your father’s death?”

  Tears gathered in Kelly’s eyes, and Dana pulled some tissues from the box on the end table. “I was hoping I wouldn’t have to answer that. Before this morning, I would never have believed him capable of such a thing. Now, I . . .” She covered her mouth and took a moment to compose herself. “I’m not sure.”

  “How so?” Dana pressed.

  “I was still awake when Raymond returned from the hospital. It was nearly 3:00 a.m. I turned on the bedside lamp and, while he was undressing for bed, I told him about your visit and the details of Shaw’s arrest and the circumstances around my brother’s death.

  “He stopped undressing and just looked at me like I’d done something wrong.”

  “Did he say anything to you?” Dana asked.

  “Not really. He just fumbled with his wallet like he was looking for something and walked back and forth from the bedroom to the bathroom. He looked, well, nervous. That’s when I told him about ricin being used to poison my father.”

  Kelly paused, looking up at the ceiling. Dana moved a box of tissues closer to her, Kelly took one to dab her eyes. “That’s when I knew. I took one look at Raymond’s face and I knew he was somehow involved in my father’s death. Even in the low light of the room, I could see his face go pale. I thought he was going to be sick.”

  “Then what happened?” Dana asked.

  “He wanted to know what I had told you. I said, ‘Nothing.’

  Then he lit into me about how the research was top-secret and that I needed to keep my mouth shut. You need to understand that Ray is the most easygoing man I’ve ever known. I kept assuring him I hadn’t said anything and he finally calmed down—only he didn’t come to bed. He went downstairs and poured himself a drink.”

  “Where is he now?” “I don’t know. About an hour later, he came upstairs and told me he had to go back to the hospital. That he’d accidentally left his computer on and there were sensitive documents he needed to close out.”

  “Did he come back?”

  Kelly sucked in a sharp breath. “No. After he left, I laid there thinking about what you’d said. You were right; I did bring my father his medication. As horrific as it sounds, I think my husband may have used me as a pawn to kill my own father.”

  “You think he substituted ricin for insulin?”

  Kelly paused. “Are you married, Detective Bennett?”

  The question caught Dana off-guard. “No, I’m not.”

  “Then you wouldn’t understand what I’m going to say. My husband’s betrayal hit me harder than my father’s death. Harder even than his involvement. That betrayal is the reason I came here to talk to you directly and against the advice of my attorney. I had nothing to do with my father’s or my brother’s death, and I’m willing to cooperate fully with the investigation.”

  “You said your husband didn’t come back after he left for the hospital?”

  “No. Normally I wouldn’t worry. He has a room with a bed there. I haven’t seen or heard from him and I don’t know where to turn. That’s why I paged you, Dana.”

  “You did the right thing.”

  She nodded. “There’s something else you need to know.”

  “What is it?”

  “After I spoke with my attorney this morning, I went back to the house to get some of my things. I planned to stay at a motel for a few nights. I kept my attorney on the phone while I went inside in case Ray was there. To be honest, I’d hoped he would be so I could confront him about my suspicions.”

  “It’s just as well he wasn’t,” Dana assured her. “If he is involved in this, he’s a murderer.”

  “That sounds so harsh. I . . .” She shook her head as if to clear it. “You’re right. At any rate, I noticed Raymond’s Jag wasn’t in the garage, so I knew he wasn’t there. We have a safe in our bedroom for my expensive jewelry and important paperwork, along with a little cash in case of emergency.”

  “How much is a little?” Mac asked.

  “Around ten thousand. Ever since 9-11 we’ve kept some cash on hand, in case we don’t have access to our accounts in the event of an emergency.”

  “Let me guess, the safe was cleaned out?” Mac tapped his pen against the pad.

  “The cash was gone, but the jewelry and paperwork are still there. I wasn’t too worried about the money, but . . .” She frowned. “The thing that concerns me most is his passport. Ray’s passport is missing.”

  THIRTY-

  FIVE

  I NEED TO STEP OUT FOR A MOMENT.” Mac stood and inched his way to the d
oor. Glancing at Dana, he said, “I’ll be right back.”

  Dana nodded, seeming to understand the urgency. The realization that Dr. Raymond Cassidy might be their murder suspect and that he might be on his way out of the country hit home. “We’ll wait here.”

  Mac burst into Kevin’s office, not noticing at first that he was on the phone. “Is Sergeant Evans back to work today?”

  “I’ll get back to you.” Kevin said into the mouthpiece, then hung up. “No, that’s what I was going to talk to you about. He’s making plans.”

  At the moment Mac couldn’t have cared less about Frank’s plans. “We’ve finally got a break in our case, and I think our suspect’s making a run for it. We need your help. I need everyone’s help.” Mac gulped in a much-needed breath.

  Kevin pulled himself up to his desk, instinctively taking his pen from his pocket and grabbing a notepad. “Tell me what you have, Mac, and take your time. We always have time.”

  “Not in this case. The woman we were interviewing is Kelly Mullins-Cassidy. She’s Clay Mullins’s daughter.”

  “I know, Mac. I talked with her, remember.”

  “Right.” Mac could barely contain his excitement as he relayed Kelly’s statement implicating her husband.

  “Is that right?”

  “Cassidy took ten grand in cash and his passport out of their safe. Sounds like he’s heading out of the country.”

  “Do you have enough for a probable cause arrest?” Kevin picked up the phone.

  “It’s slim right now, all circumstantial. I don’t know; all we have is his tie to the ricin and his wife’s report. For all I know she could be setting him up. But we can’t let this guy get away.”

  “He definitely had motive,”Kevin mused. “He stood to gain a lot of money if that property went to him via his wife. We have enough for a material witness warrant. Guess we can at least bring him in to reduce the flight risk. That’ll buy you and Dana about twenty-four hours to charge him or let him go.”

  “If he’s still in the country. We’re looking at about ten hours since his wife last saw him.”