“Did the medical examiner have that time of death right for Clinton?”
He nodded. “Clinton died the afternoon of opening night.”
“And Joey’s name mysteriously appeared on the guest list that same afternoon,” I said. “Do you think he killed his father?”
“I honestly don’t know at this point.”
Mac appeared by the kitchen sink. “You don’t have a dog,” he said, leaning against the counter.
“Mac’s here,” I told Mike.
“Didn’t you set up some boundaries with him?” Mike asked.
“Thank you for not pointing that I don’t have a dog in front of Lillian and Clinton,” I told Mac.
“You’re welcome.”
“What does he want?” Mike said.
“I came over because I think you deserve an explanation.”
“You think I deserve an explanation? Why do I get the feeling you’ve been lying to me the last few days?”
“No,” he said, shaking his head, “I’ve never lied to you. Not once. There might be some things I didn’t tell you, but that’s it.”
“Lying by omission isn’t much better.”
“Why don’t we go into the living room and sit down?” Mike suggested. “I’d rather be comfortable while listening to half of this conversation.”
We went into the living room, where Mike and I sat next to each other on the couch, while Mac took the recliner. “What haven’t you told me?”
“I want to state, for the record, that I have not lied to you,” Mac said. “I didn’t know those papers were still around. And you never asked me about Clinton’s business.”
“You’re right; I didn’t ask. So I’ll ask now. Why were you vice president of his company?”
“It wasn’t my idea. It was the big guy’s idea. He wanted someone to keep an eye on Clinton. ‘Protecting my investment’ is what he called it.”
“Who’s the big guy?”
“My boss, who answered to a bigger boss.”
I told Mike what he was saying. He excused himself, and pulled his phone out of his back pocket as he left the room.
“So, your immediate boss was worried that Clinton was going to cheat him behind his back?”
“At first, I don’t think so,” Mac replied. “He gave Clinton half a million dollars, and he wanted to make sure that the money was actually going toward starting a business. Once things started going well, he wanted to make sure that Clinton didn’t get any ideas about turning on him.”
“Did he have reason to be worried about that?”
“Not at first. But after a year or so, Clinton didn’t like having me around so much. He thought I was trying to muscle in on his business.”
“Were you?”
“Heck no! I didn’t have a head for business, and I didn’t like building anything with my hands, either. To be honest, I tried not to get in his way. I guess I didn’t try hard enough.”
“So why would he think you were trying to muscle in? I’m confused.”
“It was probably someone putting a bug in his ear.”
“Why did your boss start threatening Lillian?”
“After two years of business, Clinton was doing really well. He had made his payments on time, and as business picked up, he even increased his payments. I think he was trying to get out from under my boss faster.”
I suddenly understood. “And your boss didn’t like that idea, did he?”
Mac shook his head. “He had a legit business that he could launder his dirty money through, like you said back at the theatre. Clinton started to get uncomfortable, though, because my boss was sending friends to him, asking for hefty discounts for buildings they wanted to build. I think it was done intentionally, actually, so that the business would suffer a bit, and my boss could keep Clinton under his thumb longer.”
“So then what?”
“During one of my trips back to Vegas, I heard some rumblings that they were thinking about scaring Clinton a bit by roughing up Lillian. I didn’t want to be a part of that. I didn’t go for hurting women and kids.”
“You were the one driving by the house every day.”
He nodded. “It was my way of trying to protect her.”
“You were in love with her.”
He gave me a sad smile. “I was, but she loved Clinton.”
“Why did you say that you didn’t know her that day at the theatre?”
“I don’t have to tell you everything,” he said defensively. “They invited me to a dinner party at their house once. She was pregnant with Joey at the time, and I thought she was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. She glowed. She was one of those women that you knew you could never have, but there wasn’t anything you wouldn’t do for her, ya know?”
“Then why did you tell me that you didn’t know who she was when I asked you that night at the theatre?”
He shrugged. “I wasn’t sure if she remembered who I was, and I thought I might have a chance with her now that we were back together. But she wouldn’t have it. She only had one true love, and that was her husband. Always and forever.”
I felt sorry for him. Unrequited love. “So you were here the night she died?”
He nodded sadly.
“But when Clinton blamed you for her death before, you said you weren’t here.”
“You saw him a little while ago! If I wasn’t already a dead man, he would have killed me on the spot. It was easier to lie than admit I was there.”
“So what happened that night?” I said.
“There was some fancy party at the theatre,” he said. “I think it was close to Christmas, because I remember there was a tree in one corner of the room all lit up. I was there, at my boss’ insistence, which Clinton didn’t like. I promised him before the party that I would stay in the background, out of the way. People were dancing and talking, drinking champagne and having a good time. But underneath the cheerfulness, I could feel some uneasiness. Like something was about to blow up.”
Mike came in and sat back down. “Everything going all right?”
“It’s getting interesting,” I whispered. “Sorry, keep going, Mac.”
“Right, well, there were a couple of things going on that made me uncomfortable. I spotted a couple of guys from Vegas. One was playing with the band, the other one was dressed as a waiter. I got a bad feeling when I saw them, so I looked around the room for Lillian. I spotted her by the Christmas tree, arguing with an older man. When she tried to walk away, he grabbed her arm and squeezed. She cried out. I didn’t see Clinton anywhere, so I rushed over and asked her if she wanted to dance. The man let go of her arm. ‘You do what I tell you, Lillian, and you do it tonight,’ he said to her before he turned around and left.”
I told Mike what Mac had said. “Do you think it could have been Phillip Ingram Mac saw arguing with Lillian that night?”
“Sounds plausible,” Mike said.
“You mean Clinton’s old man?” Mac asked.
“Yes. I think what we need to do is see if we can find some pictures from back then. Maybe Mac can identify the man he saw that night. Grandma Alma might have some old photos in a box at my parents’ house. I’ll ask her tomorrow.”
“Good idea,” Mike said. “So what happened after you got Lillian away from the angry man?”
“We started dancing,” Mac replied. “She was shaking like a leaf, she was so scared. I asked her who that man was, but she wouldn’t tell me. Then Clinton showed up, and I stepped aside so he could dance with his wife. She did thank me for helping her before I walked away. That was the last time I saw her alive.”
After I told Mike the rest of the story, he said, “Lillian’s body was found just before eleven p.m. on the stage. Remember? The report said that the band was gone, and people were just milling around, talking and drinking. Clinton came in, carrying Lillian’s wrap and purse, but he couldn’t find her. It was a young couple who were looking for a little privacy that found her.”
“Where were you when
they found her?” I asked Mac.
“Gone,” he said sadly. “The two guys from Vegas left about ten-thirty, so I followed them. I shouldn’t have left.”
“It wasn’t your fault, Mac,” I told him. “There was no way you could have known someone would kill her at that party.”
“I know that,” he said. “I told myself that a lot after she died. Didn’t make the guilt stop, though.”
“Obviously Clinton still believes that Mac killed Lillian,” Mike said after I told him how things ended. “Was it because you had already left by the time they found her?”
Mac nodded. “When I saw him two days later, I thought he was going to kill me. We had a huge fight. I broke his nose, he broke a couple of my ribs. He had a pretty good left hook, I’ll give him that.”
“You let him beat you up, didn’t you?”
“A little bit,” Mac admitted. “I knew he was upset, so I figured it would help get some of his anger out if he had someone to hit. I did the same thing after I learned my brother died at Normandy. One of my buddies picked a fight with me over something stupid, and we went at it for ten minutes. We finally stopped, and he said to me, ‘Feel better?’ I had to admit that I actually did. I thought I could do the same thing for Clinton, but it didn’t work. He held on to his anger for a long time.”
After I finished filling Mike in, we all sat there quietly for a minute. “I have one question,” I said, breaking the silence.
“What’s that?” Mike said.
“What does this have to do with Susan and Clinton’s murders?”
“Good question,” Mike replied, “and one I hope we answer soon, before someone else gets killed around here.”
Chapter 26
Monday night/Tuesday morning
“There is just one thing I’m curious about,” Mike said to Mac. “How come Clinton was able to come back already, but not Susan?”
“Well, in Clinton’s case,” Mac said, “he was ready to go. He’s probably been ready to go since he lost Lillian all those years ago. All he wanted was to be reunited with her.”
“He said Clinton was probably ready to go, so he could be reunited with Lillian.”
“And Susan?”
“Well, we can see her on the ethereal plane. In Susan’s case, she definitely was not ready to go. She was hanging on with everything she had to stay, but failed obviously. A lot of time, people like that are very angry, and if they come back too soon, they cause problems.”
I told Mike. “So there’s someone or something holding her back?” he asked.
“Yes, the people in charge can prevent people like Susan from coming back, especially if they believe that the person is still too angry and will cause problems. But…”
“But what?” I said.
“Every once in a while, they can ‘slip past the guards’, so to speak.”
“That doesn’t sound good.”
He shook his head. “It’s not.”
“Considering Susan was an angry woman when she was alive,” I said, “if she gets loose, she’s going to create a lot of problems.”
“Then we better hope and pray they’re able to hold her back,” Mike said. “That’s just one headache we don’t need.”
“What are you going to do now, Mac?” I asked him.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, I know you’ve been spending a lot of time with Lillian, but now that Clinton is around, I would imagine you’ll have a little more free time on your hands.”
“Maybe you could try explaining to Clinton what really happened,” Mike suggested.
“You don’t think I tried that after Lillian died?” Mac scoffed. “It didn’t do any good. He wouldn’t listen.”
“Maybe because he was still mourning her.”
Mac shook his head. “I don’t know. But I doubt he’ll listen to me. You heard him. He still thinks it was me.” He looked so sad, I felt sorry for him. Before I could say anything else, he disappeared.
“Poor guy,” I told Mike.
“You feel sorry for a ghost?”
“I have to admit, I kind of do.”
Mike shook his head and stood up. “It’s late. I should get home.”
“By the way, the phone call you made. Was that to your friend who loves mob history?”
He nodded. “He’s going to do some digging and see what he can find out.”
“Do you think Mac is telling us the truth?” I said as I walked him to the door.
“Hard to say. I mean, part of my job is being able to tell if a suspect is lying by body language. Since I can’t see him, I have no way of knowing. You’ll have to be the judge of that.”
“Not my strong suit, since I prefer to believe the good in people, and ignore their backstabbing habits.”
Mike pulled me close. “Well then, I guess I will have to give you a crash course in reading body language.”
“That sounds like a very hands-on course, Chief Penhall. Will there be lots of homework?”
“Oh, I can guarantee that,” he grinned, giving me a toe curling kiss. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“I think I’ll go talk to Grandma Alma, see if she has anything else to say about the Ingrams. I particularly want to hear what she thought of Phillip.”
“Will you let me know if you learn anything from her?”
“Absolutely. Be careful tomorrow, okay?”
“You do the same.”
After Mike left, I pulled my notepad out of my messenger bag, and wrote down everything we had learned from the three ghosts. Brennan. I needed to ask Mac what his first name was. Was he the one who had killed Mac? I circled his name and put a question mark next to it.
I was still wired, so I took the files out of the bag as well, and started reading over them again, looking at them in a different way. About one a.m., my eyes started to hurt, so I closed them for a minute.
My ringing phone woke me up just as the sun started peeking through the blinds, and I scrambled to find it, scattering papers all over the floor. “Hello?”
“Is this Cam Shaw?” a female voice said.
“Yes, it is.”
“My name is Pamela Dimwitty. I’m the secretary at Ingram Construction.”
“Yes, ma’am, how can I help you?”
“I was wondering if we could get together and talk.”
“About what?”
“Joey Ingram.”
I rubbed the sleep out of my left eye. “What about him?”
“Someone told me that you’ve been asking questions about the Ingrams.”
“Ms. Dimwitty, if you have any information, you need to talk to Chief Penhall, not me.”
“I don’t think Mr. Ingram would want me to air his dirty laundry to the police, Ms. Shaw.”
“I’m not sure how you think I can help you.”
“Please, can we meet?”
I got up and stumbled into the kitchen, checking the time on the microwave. It was seven a.m. “All right, when and where?”
“There’s a pie shop off the interstate in Red Oak. Could you meet me there at nine-thirty?”
“I’ll be there. I suppose you’re going to tell me to come alone.”
“Yes, please.”
I hesitated. “Would it be all right if I brought my best friend?”
“Alone, or we’ll forget about it.”
“Very well. I’ll see you at nine-thirty.”
I dropped the phone on the table and rubbed my eyes. Feeling the back of my head, I noticed the bandage had come off during the night. Sighing, I grabbed a granola bar and went to get cleaned up.
Forty minutes later, I parked in front of the coffeehouse. When I went inside, I put my bag at a table near the front window and went up to the counter.
“Good morning, sunshine,” Dad said. “You look like you had a rough night.”
“I slept on the couch by accident,” I told him. “I’ve discovered that is not the most comfortable piece of furniture in my house.”
“I could have told you without you sleeping on it,” he laughed.
I laughed with him. “Listen, do you have a couple of minutes? I’d like to talk to you about something.”
“Sure, hold on a minute. Regina! Can you come watch the front counter for a few minutes?”
Regina appeared from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel. “Sure, Reverend Shaw, no problem.”
Dad put three muffins on a plate, grabbed a carton of milk from the fridge, and followed me back to my table. “Everything okay?” he asked me as we sat down.
“Define okay,” I said, taking the milk from him and opening it. “I’m pretty sure you and I have different definitions of that word right now.”
“Problems?”
“More like questions, and answers to the questions that just create more questions.”
“Sounds confusing.”
“You have no idea.”
“Enlighten me.”
“I do have something to tell you, but it needs to stay between us.”
“I’m pretty good at keep things secret. Years of practice.”
“Clinton Ingram didn’t die of a heart attack. He was murdered.”
Dad shook his head sadly. “Did you know this last night when we talked to you?”
I nodded. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t sure if I could tell you then. I’m still not sure if I should have told you now.”
“Does Mike think this has something to do with Susan’s murder at the dinner?”
“He doesn’t know yet. Would you happen to know when Clinton decided not to show up? He sponsored a table like he does every year, so I was really surprised when I saw his name crossed out, and that Joey was replacing him.”
“That’s a question for your mother. Do you want me to go ask her?”
“Would you mind?”
“Give me just a minute,” he said.
I picked up one of the muffins, peeled the paper back, and took a bite. Mmm, apple cinnamon. I looked out the window, and saw Randy walking by the bookstore with Nigel, who said something, and Randy laughed. Anyone who could make him laugh was a plus. I pulled out my phone, and made a note on my calendar to invite them over for dinner sometime.
Dad noticed me looking out the window. “His name is Nigel something.
Who Invited the Ghost to Dinner: A Ghost Writer Mystery Page 20
