“Nope. I already called who I need to. They’ll be here soon. In the meantime, I know what to say. I temporarily went insane,” Mumfry replied, sounding rehearsed. “I have connections. My lawyer will get me off,” he added with conviction.
“Fine by me—it’s your life. How did you say you knew Lou Costanza?” Wallace asked.
“I knew him from when I served. He’s ex-military with a shady past and an avid hunter like me.” Mumfry beamed with pride. “My kind of people.”
The man wasn’t insane; he was delusional, Ace thought.
“The church took me in because I had no money,” Mumfry continued. “They were good to me, but nobody else was. I killed the senator because his stance was anti-guns, and he was a pain in my ass. He wanted to pass all these crazy new gun-control laws. We hunters have rights too, you know, but the stubborn fool wouldn’t listen to a word I said. I liked the councilwoman because she was going to put money into the town, and her stance is pro-gun rights, although she turned out to be a bitch.” Mumfry rubbed his eye, and a look of hatred and anger swept over his face. “Politicians are the real criminals.”
“Why try to have Miss Monroe and Detective Jackson killed?” Rogers asked.
“The Sister would have been just fine if she’d kept her nose out of places it don’t belong,” Mumfry growled. “She knows something she’s not telling, but she and the detective are looking pretty chummy these days. Who knows what she might have told him over pillow talk.”
Cece let out a little gasp, and Ace felt his blood run cold over the mere thought of bedding her. The memory of her touch still burned if he thought about it long enough. He certainly found her attractive, and damn if she didn’t look sexy with that mass of curls hanging down her back. He was already on the A-list to hell, and unlike his old man, he didn’t need to rush the process. Neither one of them spoke, staring straight ahead through the glass instead.
“They’re a liability.” Mumfry looked right at the glass as he added, “Loose ends are meant to be snipped.”
Ace knew Mumfry couldn’t see them, but Cece still stepped back a bit, placing her hand on her chest and biting her bottom lip. Ace patted her arm awkwardly, and she shot him a grateful smile, then stood a little straighter, refusing to let the scumbucket get to her. Ace felt pride surge through him. She really was a remarkable woman, especially after all she’d been through.
“What about Lou? Why kill him?” Wallace asked, drawing Ace’s attention back to the interrogation room.
“The man’s a moron,” Mumfry answered matter of factly. “He’s had several chances to take them out, but he’s messed up every single one of them. He doesn’t deserve to call himself a professional hit man. Sometimes you just gotta get your hands dirty and do the job yourself.”
“Why confess now?” Rogers asked with a frown.
“Like I said, I snapped.” Mumfry shrugged. “Temporary insanity. End of investigation. I’ll take some R&R, get the help I need, and be back on the streets in no time. Isn’t it great how the system works?”
“Nice try,” Wallace said. “Temporary insanity involves going a little crazy and not being aware of what you’re doing. Hiring a hit man involves premeditation. Killing the hit man is simply cold-blooded murder in the first degree.” Wallace leaned into him with a sneer as he finished with, “You aren’t going anywhere for the rest of your sorry life except behind a set of cold, hard bars.”
Mumfry’s face paled, and the first inkling of doubt swept over his features. “I think I’ll wait for my lawyer before saying any more.”
“Unfortunately for you, I think you’ve said plenty,” Rogers responded, and then added, “Enjoy that R&R, Mr. Walker. See you in court.” He slipped his shades on as he and Wallace left the room, sending in a couple of armed officers who took Mumfry away.
Ace led Cece out of the interrogation room booth and into his office. She had on the same snug jeans that did things to him he’d rather not say, topped with a different sweater this time, and had left her glorious hair down once more, appearing on the outside like a normal woman. But she wasn’t a normal woman; she was an innocent ex-nun and so damned petite. Even with the self-defense training, it wouldn’t take much to overpower her.
Mumfry’s words haunted Ace. The thought of her being a liability and a loose end was killing him. The reality of the situation was that he couldn’t protect her one hundred percent, no matter how hard he tried, short of locking her in the convent. That had been spelled out crystal clear as of late.
“So, does this mean the case is closed,” Cece asked, after he shut the door behind them and turned to face her.
“For the Feds, yes.” Ace rubbed his throbbing temples and then spoke as he popped some pain medicine he’d found in his desk drawer. “They want this case solved quickly. I’m sure they have the federal government breathing down their necks to wrap up the investigation pronto. Mumfry Walker has done plenty to deserve to be put behind bars, but something doesn’t sit right with me.” Ace dropped down into his desk chair and closed his eyes. When he felt her light touch on his shoulders, his eyes sprang open and he stiffened.
“It doesn’t sit right with me either,” Cece said, pushing him back down with a surprisingly firm touch when he tried to stand. Too tired to resist, he gave in to her. “I’m no expert, but his confessing seemed way too easy,” she added on a soft voice as she massaged his shoulders and neck.
“When Rocco and I questioned him a while back, Mumfry didn’t know anything about the Clove cigarettes. He smokes, but not that brand of cigarettes, and he had no clue that someone was setting up the mayor.” Ace stifled a groan as she massaged his temples now. Damn, her hands might be small, but they were pure magic. She knew all the right spots and exactly what to do.
“Why on earth would Mumfry confess to something he didn’t do?” she asked, her hands still moving. Her sweet honeysuckle scent mixed with spray starch and soap was somehow perfectly satisfying.
Ace had to concentrate to focus on her words. “I have a hunch, but we’ll never get a warrant to search his place with Washington wanting the case closed now that they have their man,” he answered, his eyes still closed.
“Lucky for us, Mr. Walker doesn’t own his own place.” She patted Ace’s shoulders, and then her hands were gone.
“How is that lucky?” He blinked his droopy eyes open, astonished that all traces of his headache had disappeared.
“Father Flannigan lets him stay in a storage closet by the janitor’s office in the church. It has a cot, a dresser, and little else, but it seemed to suit the man just fine. Lucky for you, the church is a public place, and I happen to have a few connections there,” her voice teased. “Besides, Sister Mary Ethel keeps a close eye on all that goes on there. If anyone can help us get to the bottom of this, she can.”
“The Sister Mary Ethel?” Ace asked with dread.
“One and the same.” Cece’s gaze softened. “It’ll be fine, Detective. In fact, it might even do you some good. I’ll even hold your hand if you want.”
“Great.” Ace swallowed hard, thinking it would take a hell of a lot more than holding his hand to get him through a conversation with the Sister. Ace said a prayer for the first time in way too many years to count: Please, God, put me out of my misery soon.
“You ready?” Cece asked, and his gaze locked on hers.
“As I’ll ever be.”
Ace stood and led the way outside to his postage stamp of a rental car. Before he let Cece anywhere near it, he searched all around the outside and beneath the wheel wells. Once he was sure it was safe, he waved her over. He unlocked the doors, and she climbed inside. It took him a bit longer to fold his tall frame inside the car behind the steering wheel.
“Uh-oh,” Cece said and gave him a worried look as soon as he was settled.
“What did I miss—are you okay?” he asked, searching the interior of the car.
“I’m fine. It’s you I’m worried about.” She held her hands behind
her back.
“Why?”
“Because of this.” She slowly brought her hands around in front of her.
He gaped and felt his skin turn prickly and cold. Mumfry Walker was the least of his worries. Cece’s crazy Granny was a total nightmare. She’d created a scary, lifelike voodoo doll of him, with a pin sticking out of his temple and a note attached that said:
I’m watching you. Let my grandbaby get hurt again, and it’s the last thing you’ll ever do.
How’s your headache by the way? Hee-hee-hee …
Ace rubbed his temple as a faint throbbing started up once more. “You don’t think …? Never mind. Let’s roll,” he said, answering his own ridiculous question, and started the car, heading for the church without looking back.
Cece pulled the pin out and slipped the doll into her satchel, apparently sensing not to say another word until they arrived at Our Lady of Glory. They climbed out of the car, and as promised, she took his hand. He blinked in surprise, not having thought she was really serious, but one thing was for certain: he sure as hell wasn’t letting go.
“Allistair Jackson, corrupting the innocent I see,” Sister Mary Ethel said from behind them.
He froze in his tracks, stiffening slightly, but Cece gave his hand a quick squeeze.
He took a deep breath and let go. Her eyebrow shot up, but he tossed her a wink. He could do this. Silly childhood fears be damned. He turned around and held out his hand. “Sister Mary Ethel, always a pleasure to see you.”
She narrowed her eyes, studied him for a long moment, and then grunted. “Finally,” she said. “It took you long enough to grow up, boy. Now get yourself to church, and you just might stand a chance.” She turned around without shaking his hand and shuffled off to the far corner, dragging her feet every step of the way.
“But, Sister—” Cece started to say.
“He’s in the back. You’ll find what you’re looking for through him if you look close enough,” she said, cutting Cece off, and then she was gone.
Ace dropped his hand and let out the breath he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding. Cece slid her palm into his once more. He looked down at her and gave her a weak smile. “I’m okay. You don’t have to do that, you know.”
“I know.” She sent a shy smile his way and pulled him after her before he could try to decipher what that meant. Part of him didn’t want to know.
As they reached the back of the church, Cece discreetly slipped her hand out of Ace’s and knocked on a door to an office. Father Flannigan came out and stopped short, his wrinkled face breaking into a welcoming grin. “Cecelia, what a wonderful surprise.” He pulled her in for a quick hug and then gripped Ace’s shoulders with his bony hands. “Detective Jackson, my boy. Taking good care of our girl, are we?”
“Doing my best, sir.” Ace cleared his dry throat and tried not to fidget.
Father’s eyes twinkled. “Still struggling under the weight of your troubles, I see.”
“Doing my best, sir,” Ace repeated and tugged at his collar.
“You’ll get there,” Father said kindly, dropping his hands. “In the meantime, how can I help you both?”
“Well, we were wondering if it would be possible to take a peek at Mr. Walker’s quarters,” Cece said.
Father’s face fell, his jubilant expression turning sad. “It’s a downright shame. I really had such high hopes for that lad, but sometimes temptation is stronger than the best of us.”
Ace’s and Cece’s gazes collided and then quickly separated. Beads of sweat popped out on Ace’s forehead.
“You’re welcome to look around, but I’m not sure how much help it will do you,” Father spoke as he led the way to the janitor’s storage room. “The FBI was here this morning and cleared out Mr. Walker’s belongings, meager as they were. He was a man of simple means. Didn’t have much.”
“Thank you, Mr. Flannigan, Father, sir,” Ace said. “We really appreciate it.”
“You’re welcome. Now if you’ll excuse me, my afternoon tea is calling me.” He walked off, hollering over his shoulder, “Don’t be a stranger. I’d love to see you both at tomorrow’s mass.”
“Count on it, Father,” Cece responded, giving Ace an innocent look. “What? I didn’t start this, you did. Last time I checked, a shadow never leaves its body. I guess that means we’re joined at the hip, so to speak. That means wherever I go, you go.” She quickly slipped inside Mumfry’s room, not giving him a chance to respond. She might be an ex-nun, but she wasn’t always an angel. He’d witnessed firsthand a bit of her devilish side. The problem was, he liked it a little too much.
“Find anything?” he asked, as he joined her inside the room.
“No, it looks pretty empty.” She pursed her lips, looking disappointed. “There has to be something the FBI missed. Like when I found the senator’s little …” She trailed off guiltily.
“Black book in the heating vent of his campaign office?” he asked smugly.
She gasped, and her face flushed a pretty pink. “How’d you know about that?”
“You’re not the only one who’s done a little snooping when eyes are turned.”
“You searched my apartment?” She looked appalled.
“Not searched exactly. Someone has a habit of leaving everything out in plain sight. I knew you weren’t blessing his office that day, any more than you were blessing his barn.”
“I did say a blessing. I just happened to find a clue along the way,” she said defensively.
“Well, now that we’re working together, I suggest you leave the investigating part to me.”
“You just can’t admit that I’m not half bad at your little detective gig.” She crossed her arms stubbornly.
“Little detective gig?” He dropped his hands to his hips. “Honey, you have no clue what I do.”
“I could say the same thing. You help people; I help people. We’re actually not all that different.”
“Whatever.” He gave her an exaggerated eye roll, mimicking her.
“Fine,” she grunted, mimicking him.
They both narrowed their eyes, at a standoff.
“You go left, I’ll take right, and we’ll see just how different we are, Sister,” he finally said.
“You’re on,” she growled in response and then got to work.
Ace had to stop letting her get under his skin. He was supposed to keep her safe, not go eight rounds in a verbal boxing ring with her, but damn she knew just what buttons of his to push. And the fact that they were tucked back inside the church didn’t help either. Shaking his head, he went about his work. He inspected every inch of the right side of the room, to no avail. He was searching beneath the cot when she spoke from behind him.
“Not bad indeed.”
He slowly turned around and saw she had moved the small dresser in the far corner of the room, but she stood there empty-handed.
“Not bad? You got nothin’.”
“Oh, I’m good, and I’ve definitely got somethin’.”
“Where?” He peered at her skeptically.
She rocked on her feet. “Hear that?” She did it again, and he heard the squeak. “My guess is under here. I’ve spent enough years in this ancient convent to recognize loose floorboards, and this one looks like it’s been recently cut. I lived with my sister long enough to know what that means.”
Ace didn’t say a word. He just walked over to her, knelt down, inspected the board, and knew in his gut she was right. He pried it up, and—lo and behold—a sack was wedged beneath the board. Slipping a pair of gloves from inside his sport coat, he pulled the bag out and then opened it.
Money—and lots of it.
He glanced up at a beaming Cece and grudgingly said, “Okay, I admit it. You’re not half bad, but trust me, sweetheart. We are nothing alike.”
“Technicalities.” She waved him off. “What exactly do you think this means?”
“That Mumfry Walker wasn’t working alone.”
This time
her face was the one to go pale. “Then that means …”
“Exactly, darlin’. The real killer is still on the loose, and you’re not out of the woods yet.”
Episode 8
Chapter 15
Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. I think I’m finally coming to grips with merging my new life with my old. I just have to remind myself that everything I do is for a reason, and it’s okay to make mistakes. I’m not perfect, but neither is anyone else. The things we’ve found out about the people in this town are mind-boggling. But those same things lead to a whole new set of problems, and a degree of danger I never saw coming.
“Well, that was a waste of time,” Cece said to the detective as they left the town jail and drove off in his matchbox rental on Saturday afternoon. The air had a bite to it, but the sun was shining high in the sky, making everything sparkle with the vibrant colors of fall.
“Did you really expect Mumfry to admit who paid him to lie?” Ace asked her, heading toward her clinic.
“No, but I didn’t expect him to confess to the senator’s murder either.”
“Yeah, I’m not buying that he has no idea where the money came from. Someone definitely paid him to confess. My guess is they only paid half up front. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have gone through with it. He probably gets the other half when he gets out.”
“Do you really think he will get out?”
“He has one of the best lawyers in the whole state.”
“If he’s dead broke, then how can he possibly afford that?”
“Exactly. I’m betting the high-priced lawyer was part of the deal. Walker has served time before, so going to jail won’t be as traumatic for him as it might be for some people. Not to mention, he’s not exactly thriving on the outside. He’s dead broke. As long as he’s confident he can get out in a reasonable amount of time, the incentive of all that money waiting for him might have been enough to make him agree to something this crazy.” Ace narrowed his eyes, his jaw hardening, as he finished by saying, “He knows damn well where that money came from, but he also knows if he says anything, he won’t get out or get the second half. I just don’t know how the hell we’re going to find out who he’s working with.”
Kicking the Habit Page 19
