She crawled on her knees toward him, spreading her arms wider and raising her voice. “I’m praying, Detective. Come join me. Cleanse this place of all evil.” She locked her gaze on his. “Cleanse your soul.”
He gaped at her. “Huh?”
She thrust her prayer book out at him, and he flinched. “‘Thy kingdom come; thy will be done on earth as it is in Heaven,’” she continued.
“What are you doing? Blessing this place so the senator won’t haunt the next person to rent the space?” He looked decidedly uncomfortable.
“Exactly. ‘Give us this day our daily bread; and forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us.’”
He hesitated, then put his hands on his hips, his discomfort changing to disbelief. “Wait a minute, are you—”
Crawling closer, she spoke louder. “‘Lead us not into temptation …’” Her voice trailed off when he frowned and pulled out his cell as though he were going to turn her in.
He took a step toward her, and she grew desperate. She shoved her hand in her pocket and yanked out her rosary beads, flinging them high in the air. His eyes popped, and he clutched his chest like he was going to have a heart attack on the spot.
She continued, “‘But deliver us from evil.’ Amen. Come. Bow your head, Detective. Let us pray.”
He shoved his phone back in his pocket. “I—I’ll just wait in the hall. Hurry up, Sister. The last thing I need is Beavis and Butthead raising hell with me.”
The last thing she needed was to dig herself in any deeper. Unfortunately, the day wasn’t even close to being over with yet. Lord only knows what kind of trouble she could get into in the next twenty-four hours.
***
“So, tell me again, Mayor Evans. Where were you on the morning of October twentieth?” Ace opened his notebook as he sat beside his partner on the black leather couch in the mayor’s office later that day.
He glanced around the plush room and wondered how much these digs cost. Solid oak desk, leather furniture, custom-made drapes, and thick carpet. The mayor’s salary couldn’t be that high. Either he’d inherited a bunch of money, or he had one hell of a side job, and Ace doubted it involved real estate. The building he’d donated to Sister Cecelia wasn’t worth squat. Ace jotted down a note to himself to check into the mayor’s background.
The mayor sighed and rubbed his eyes. “Look, gentleman, I’ve been over this several times already, with every kind of law enforcement this country has to offer. Can’t you people check each other’s notes?”
“Humor us. We’re not all that bright.” Rocco smirked at the mayor and then winked at Ace, as he chomped on a piece of Nicorette gum. When he snapped his gum, the mayor shot him a look designed to kill. “Sorry. Trying to quit ain’t easy.”
“I wouldn’t know. Personally, I think smoking is disgusting.” The mayor huffed.
“Ya don’t say.” Rocco’s eyes, sharp as ever, zeroed in on the bar setup on the credenza, and he pointed with his pen. “If you find it so filthy, why keep a pack of cigs lying around?”
The mayor looked genuinely surprised to see the pack of cigarettes lying next to his decanter of bourbon. “They’re not mine.” He got up and walked over to the bar, reaching for the pack.
“Don’t touch them,” Ace said, crossing the room.
“Someone must have left them in here.”
“These are the same brand we found at the shooter’s hideout in the woods between the bank and the mini-market.” There hadn’t been any prints or DNA, just one clean cigarette, as though it had fallen out of the pack and had never been touched.
The mayor’s forehead creased. “People come and go through this office all day long. Those could be anyone’s.”
“True. But clove cigarettes are an unusual kind.” Ace pulled out a baggie and, using his pen, swept the pack inside. The Feds had already questioned the mayor. They would have taken the cigarettes, which meant this was a fresh pack. “I’m sure there are a ton of prints on this, but I’d like to talk to those people anyway.”
“Ya might wanna answer that question about where you were on the morning of October twentieth, after all, pal.” Rocco sauntered over, snapping his gum again for good measure.
The mayor’s voice took on a note of desperation, and his color paled. “I told you, I was at La Crème de La Crème, waiting for the senator to show up for our breakfast meeting. He agreed to the meeting if I treated. When he didn’t show, I ate my breakfast and headed into Boston for another meeting. The manager saw me; ask her.”
“Already did. Or at least that’s what the other cops’ notes said.” Rocco sneered. “I checked.”
“We’ll be sure to do that, Mayor Evans.” Ace wrote in his notebook and then flipped it closed. “That should about cover everything. Thank you for your—”
“See, the problem is, you left before the senator’s murder and arrived in Boston well after it, with plenty of time to have made a little pit stop in between,” Rocco interjected, stepping between the mayor and Ace, getting right in the man’s face. “You offed the poor bastard cuz he wouldn’t give you the funds for the town, didn’t you, Evans?”
The mayor stumbled back a couple steps. “How dare you? The senator and I—”
“Hated each other, I know. I didn’t care for him either, but that doesn’t mean I’d want him dead,” Rocco continued.
“I’m sorry. My partner tends to get fired up when he’s working a case.” Ace nudged Antonelli. “We’ll be going now.”
Rocco shrugged Ace’s hand off and hammered the mayor with more questions. “Did he sleep with your wife too? Is that why you offed him?”
“I—I didn’t ‘off’ anyone.”
“Okay, so you paid someone to off him. Same difference.”
“I’m telling you, the traffic was terrible getting into Boston. That’s why I was late for my meeting. You can’t prove anything.” The mayor scrambled behind his desk as Rocco stalked him like a bloodhound on the hunt. “I’m calling my lawyer.”
“We were just leaving, Mayor Evans. Again, thanks for your time.” Ace grabbed Rocco’s arm and pushed him toward the door.
“Hope your lawyer’s good,” Rocco called over his shoulder. “You’re gonna need him.”
Ace pulled his sports coat closed to shield him from the dropping temperatures and shoved his partner all the way out the door into the waning sunshine. Neither spoke until they reached Ace’s truck. “Next time, I get to be the bad cop,” Ace said. “Playing good cop is no fun.”
“Not a chance, partner. You’re having enough fun with that little nun of yours.” Rocco flipped up his pleather collar.
“She’s not ‘my’ anything.”
“Good. Then you won’t mind if I ask her out.”
Ace gritted his teeth. “Never mind that. I think he’s hiding something.”
Rocco chuckled. Thumping through the pages of his notebook, he refocused. “Yeah, I got the same vibe about Evans. Nice office for a small-town mayor.”
“Even with traffic, it doesn’t take that long to get to Boston. My guess is, he made a pit stop he doesn’t want anyone to know about, but where did he go and who did he see?”
“When you and the mayor were over by the pack of cigarettes, I took a quick peek inside a file on his desk. I didn’t read it because I didn’t want him to catch me, but one thing did stand out before I joined you guys,” Rocco said.
“What’s that?”
“Sloan Senior’s name.” Rocco studied his notes for a minute. “The senator’s father lives in Boston. The morning of the senator’s death, his father was on his way to New Hope to see his son. Someone ran him off the road, and he ended up in the hospital. He said he had a meeting that morning too, but he wouldn’t tell the police who it was with. Do you think the mayor and the senator’s father could have met with each other?
“It’s a possibility.” Ace chewed on the inside of his cheek as he studied the mayor’s BMW, two spots down from his own truck. “H
ere’s another fact we might consider. The mayor makes a decent living, but he sure as shit doesn’t come from money. Whereas good ole Daddy Sloan is loaded.”
Rocco looked pensive for a minute, then his eyes widened. “Holy shit. You think the son of a bitch was blackmailing the old man. Over what?”
“That’s what we’re going to find out. Put a tail on the mayor, pronto,” Ace said.
“I’m on it.” Rocco made a note. “And here’s another thing. If the mayor and Old Man Sloan really did meet, it would have been right about the time the senator was killed. If your hunch is right, the lucky bastard just scored himself an alibi.”
“My gut told me the mayor wasn’t lying about those cigarettes, anyway.”
“Yeah, I wasn’t buying him as a smoker either. It’s way too easy.” Rocco looked at Ace. “Which means someone really did leave the cigarettes in his office by accident.”
“Or someone is trying to set him up.” Ace rubbed the back of his neck. “One thing I don’t get, though.”
“Why Sister Mary Sassy is hot for me and not you?”
Ace scowled. “You’re such a jackass.”
“The name’s asshole.” Rocco punched Ace on the shoulder and sent him a meaningful look. “‘Jackass’ is already taken by a good friend of mine.”
“Okay, asshole.” Ace settled his hands on his hips. “Can you keep your mind off “T and A” for two whole minutes?”
“I can try, but I ain’t makin’ any promises.”
“Anyway.” Ace stared up at the mayor’s window and saw Evans watching them, but the mayor stepped away and closed the blinds. “I don’t get why the mayor wanted to meet with Sloan Jr. if he was blackmailing his old man. What could he have to talk to the senator about unless the blackmail involved him too? And everyone knows the senator was cheap. Why didn’t he show for a free meal, especially in a place as nice as La Crème de whatever? For what—to confess in church? I just don’t get it. Must have been one hell of a confession.”
“I’m telling you, there’s more to this story than a crime of passion. I think you’re right. It’s political, and the mayor’s involved somehow. We need more information, and since you said Sister Mary Sassy still isn’t talking, maybe it’s time we went to someone who might.”
“The widow?” Ace asked, and Rocco nodded. “Good thinking.”
“Thanks.” Rocco smoothed his fingers along the sides of his black hair. “I do have one or two good thoughts in there.”
Ace snorted. “Maybe there’s hope for you yet.” He checked his watch. “The reception should be over by now, and Mrs. Sloan is leaving for D.C. tomorrow morning. Guess if we want to talk to her, it’s now or never.”
“I’ll drive since you’re too hot and bothered.” Rocco held out his hand for the keys.
“You aren’t touching my truck.” Ace jogged around to the driver side. “Get in, Jack—”
“Asshole, remember?”
“Jesus, you really are one.”
“I try.” Rocco laughed and climbed inside. “Let’s roll.”
***
Fifteen minutes later, Ace and Rocco pulled up in front of a mansion, a massive old colonial with a couple of acres for a yard and a driveway that had to be half a mile long. He let out a low whistle, easing his truck through the open gate and down the road. “Damn. We’re in the wrong business, son.”
“No shit.” Rocco climbed out of the truck, and Ace joined him as he rang the bell.
They flashed their badges, and Ace said, “I’m Detective Jackson, and this is my partner Detective Antonelli. We’d like to have a word with Mrs. Sloan, if she’s available.”
The tall, gaunt doorman glared down his long, pointy nose at them and sniffed. “Mrs. Sloan is in no shape to—”
“Let them in,” a woman’s voice called from behind the butler, and he stepped aside with reluctance.
“Thanks, pal.” Rocco slapped the guy on the shoulder and winked as he walked inside.
Ace gave the man an apologetic smile and joined the senator’s widow and his partner in the sitting room. Ace met Rocco’s gaze, and an unspoken message passed between them. This was not the time for good cop, bad cop.
“We’re sorry for your loss, Mrs. Sloan. Is there anything we can do for you?” Rocco handed the woman a box of tissues.
“You can catch the person who murdered my husband,” she said, taking a tissue and dabbing at her red-rimmed eyes. “And top off my vodka tonic, please.”
“Absolutely.” Rocco got up to make her another drink from the bar in the corner.
Ace sat in the chair next to hers. “That’s why we’re here, ma’am.” His gut told him those were genuine tears. The woman obviously still loved her husband, infidelities be damned. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t have snapped. Although hiring a hit man didn’t involve snapping; it involved premeditation. His gut told him she didn’t do it, but she might be able to shed some light on who did. After all, she had been talking to the mayor at the wake. What Ace wouldn’t give to have heard that conversation.
“If you don’t mind my asking, why are you here alone?” Rocco handed her a refill.
“To get away from those vultures.” She took a big swallow of her drink.
Ace’s eyes locked on Rocco’s, and Rocco raised one shoulder. “Vultures, ma’am?” Rocco asked.
“Politicians.” She sighed. “They all pretend to care, but they don’t. They just wanted a piece of my Stanley. Kept pecking at him until there was nothing left. And now they want a piece of me.” Her eyelids drooped. “Well, they’re not going to get it. I won’t let them.” Her words began to slur, and she looked ready to pass out.
“Mrs. Sloan, did your husband say or do anything unusual the morning of his death?” Ace asked, wondering if one of the vultures she’d been referring to had been Evans. “He never made it to his breakfast meeting with the mayor. Any idea why?”
She flinched at the mention of the mayor’s name and then took another sip of her drink. “I didn’t know my husband had a meeting with the mayor, and I have no idea why he went to confession that morning. It wasn’t like it was Sunday. He acted nervous, like something had upset him, but he wouldn’t talk about it. Then he kissed me before he left—even told me he loved me.” She lifted her tear-filled gaze to Ace’s. “He hadn’t said those words in so long. It was almost as if he knew he was going to die.”
“I don’t know, ma’am, but I am sorry. If you could just think back and try to remember anything else. We really do want to help.”
“No, there’s nothing else.” She downed the rest of her drink. “I’m sorry. Like I told the other policemen, my husband liked to keep his business matters separate from our personal lives. Said he wanted to focus on the children and me when he was with us, and he did. He might not have been the most attentive husband, but he was a wonderful father.”
“I’m sure he was.” Ace handed her his card. “Thank you for your time, and please call if you remember anything.”
She took the card and stared as though in a trance. Then she blinked and said, “There was one thing. It’s probably nothing, but the week before he died, Stanley started acting strange. He couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep, had even gotten physically sick. I tried to get him to see a doctor, but he said he was just stressed. Worried over the upcoming election.”
She pulled herself up and turned her back to them as she set her empty glass on the fireplace mantle. “He’d been a politician for too long to let campaign tactics and smear campaigns worry him. Besides, he was leading in the polls.” She blew her nose and then turned around to face them.
“I don’t know what was going on, but something had him worried like I’d never seen before. He even made several road trips out to the country. Said he needed to get away, clear his head.” She laughed. “I told him I could think of better places to clear my head than an old, dirty barn, but he said that was the perfect place to go. No one would think to disturb him there. He’s right. I haven’t been to
the farm in years. I refused to allow my children to stay in a dump, and he never deemed it worthy to fix up. If you find out what was bothering him, you just might find out why someone wanted him dead.”
The door opened, and a distinguished looking man with lacquered gray hair stuck his head inside. “Ah, there you are, Mary.” His eyes shot over to Rocco and Ace. “Is everything okay? I’m sure the police would understand if you wanted to answer their questions later, given that your husband just died.” He stared them down.
“It’s okay, Allen. We were just finishing up.”
“Good. Oh, and Stanley’s campaign manager was looking for you, but I told him you were sleeping. I’ve gotten rid of just about everyone else as well. You really should get some rest.”
“I will. Sleep sounds like a blessing right now. Would you mind checking on the children, seeing if they’re okay? I know they’re with the nanny, but I’m sure they’d love to see their favorite uncle.”
“Certainly. Don’t be too much longer.” He nodded once to Rocco and Ace. “Gentleman.” He slipped back out into the hall and closed the door softly behind him.
“Don’t mind Allen, he’s just protective of me and my children. He’s not really their uncle, just a close friend of the family. He and Stanley have known each other since they met as boys in boarding school. Allen has been my rock, even though this is just as hard on him. In fact, he’s escorting the children and me to D.C. for the funeral.” Her voice hitched. “I don’t know what I’d do without him.”
“I’m glad you have someone helping you, and he’s right. We’ve taken up enough of your time. Thank you, ma’am.” Rocco stood.
“Like I said, call if you think of anything else. We’ll let you know if something turns up.” Ace led the way back outside.
“Speaking of better halves, where’s Sister Mary Sassy?” Rocco asked Ace as they drove away.
“Funny,” Ace said. “She’s letting Sister No-Classy give her a makeover.”
“The hottie sister?”
Kicking the Habit Page 7
