The Scotland Yard Exchange Series

by Stephanie Queen

  “Naturally St. Cyr was interested in talking more, but Zachary interrupted us. I was very grateful. He didn’t like St. Cyr and didn’t trust him. Theresa and I thought it would be best not to tell him what St. Cyr had said. We figured we could handle it. She said she could get some harmless gossip for him and keep him happy. We agreed to play along.” She paused and Peter decided he had to go out on a limb.

  “Did he ask you about the Moroni murder trial again?”

  “Later that night. He cornered me when I was leaving. He asked if it was true that I’d had an affair with Moroni’s murderer. I told him they never caught Moroni’s murderer so I didn’t know what he was talking about.” Peter smiled. She smiled back. “He accused me of hiding something. I told him to prove it. He laughed, but he didn’t like that very much. I’m afraid that’s when I made an enemy.”

  “I think you could be right, Mrs. Brown. You made an enemy of a nut case, a very dangerous nut case, I’m thinking,” Bennie said. Peter nodded. The woman had matured after all. She wasn’t as helpless and desperate as she had been when their paths crossed six years before. Who knew, maybe Mayor Zachary Torini was good for her.

  “Do you mind coming into the station to give us the rest of the statement officially? You can call your attorney and your husband if you want,” the DA said. Peter was pleased that he was going easy on her as requested. She started crying again.

  “I’ll call the mayor and explain things if you want,” Peter said. She nodded. “One more question before we go. Did St. Cyr ever record any of your conversations with him?”

  She looked up, startled. “Yes. How did you know?”

  “Part of his MO apparently.” Peter turned to Bennie. “Can I talk to you a minute?” Peter was glad the interview was over—he’d run out of hankies. Bennie nodded. They left Priscilla Brown sitting on the couch and walked to the entry foyer.

  “We need to get to St. Cyr. Someone else is going to have to bring her in.”

  “Okay.” Chen nodded.

  “And I appreciate you going easy on her for now.”

  “Yeah. The way I see it, she’s more of a victim than a criminal. Then there’d be the senator to deal with,” Chen said. They walked back over to her.

  “Mrs. Brown, we’re going to have to leave right now. I’ll have one of my men come pick you up and bring you into the station in a few minutes,” Bennie said. He was playing it really soft, trusting her not to leave town. But then things were different out here in the Berkshires, Peter thought.

  He looked at his watch. It was midnight. Madeline ought to be done by now. He turned to good old Bennie Chen. “I think we need to see a judge about another search warrant—and I know just the judge.” Peter smiled like a man-eating cat, gave the senator’s wife one more pat, and bolted out the door with the Bennie in tow.

  “It would be very beneficial if she’d sign a confession tonight and we made it available to the press tomorrow.” Peter looked at the DA who looked like he was going to object to being told what to do. “You’re very good at holding a press conference, and this is just the sort of thing to get your name on the political radar screen.”

  “I don’t need you to tell me…”

  “I know—but timing is everything. For Madeline Grace anyway. And if this is about justice, then she deserves some consideration.” Peter looked at the man long and hard so that he knew what it was about. It was about rescuing a damsel in distress, not about Peter’s political ambitions, although they may be served as well. They weren’t best friends, but he knew Bennie Chen well enough and knew that he was decent enough to care about real justice too, along with the feather in his cap.

  “Okay. But you owe me big. I’ll do it for Madeline Grace for free since she’s gotten a raw deal. That was partly your fault. I figure the press aside, you probably jilted her and that probably caused her miscarriage.” Bennie smirked and flung open his car door for emphasis. Peter gritted his teeth. They got in the car. He doubted he ever allowed himself to look incredulous before, and there’d been ample opportunity in his lifetime with some of the things he’d been witness to. His emotions were running too high and he mentally reined himself in. He hoped it would work. They got on their respective cell phones and the state trooper took the wheel.

  “Drive to Boston. Fast,” Peter said. Benny nodded his consent to the trooper.

  Chapter 22

  The Mad Escape from the Berkshires

  Madeline raced out of the police station office with Dennis, Bill and Bob trailing after her. It was 1:00 a.m. They jumped in the car that Bill and Bob had taken out there. Dennis punched in Val’s number on his cellular. Bill got behind the wheel and they all took off.

  “We’re on the road headed back to Boston. Suggest you do the same,” Dennis said.

  “But there’s no one here but me and Morty and Jon. What do we do with all the stuff?” Val asked.

  “Throw it all in the van. Have Morty contact his boss, good old PJD, for instructions. Speaking of, has Morty come up with anything?”

  “Yeah. Something about psych reports for St. Cyr. Wait. Sam and Acer just came crashing in. Got to go.”

  Dennis looked at his phone for ten seconds before he slipped it back into his pocket. Madeline noticed and wondered.

  “What? What’s bothering you?” she asked. Dennis looked up. He was pale.

  “Morty’s looking into St. Cyr’s psych reports at your boyfriend’s request. This is getting bizarre in a very unsafe way. It’s one thing when we’re dealing with garden-variety political mischief. But this is something else altogether.” He stopped talking and gave her a grim stare. “I think you should announce that you’re withdrawing from the election at the press conference in the morning,” he added.

  “What?” She didn’t mean to shriek the word. Bill swerved the car. Bob swore.

  “We’re not deaf,” Dennis said. “St. Cyr is starting to scare me. He makes Sarah seem downright well-adjusted.” She wasn’t sure if it was St. Cyr or Dennis that was scaring her more, but one thing was for sure, her adrenaline was now pumping way too fast.

  “Get Morty back on the phone,” Madeline said and calmed herself down. This was familiar territory, after all. She could talk about psychological dysfunction. She punched PJD’s numbers into her wireless while Dennis punched in some numbers on his. This should be fun—a phone on each ear. Handle it. Peter answered first and she started talking while she watched Dennis frown at her.

  “Where are you?”

  “Mad? Where are you?”

  “I asked first.” She laughed. First sign of hysteria. Breathe deeply and try to make sense, for heaven’s sake. “We’re on our way back. St. Cyr has a psych history. I’m about to get the details from Morty. This doesn’t look good. I’m worried about Sarah.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Everyone else is accounted for.” For once she didn’t say exactly what she was thinking. If Sarah was innocent she could be in deep trouble with St. Cyr. And she was convinced Sarah was innocent—deep down.

  He grunted. “I’m on my way to her place now. We left twenty minutes ago. I’ll meet you there.” He sounded too nonchalant to her, like he was trying to hide something. Something bad. He was way too cool, even for PJD the special operative. Two could play.

  “I’ll be there.” And she would. She’d hook up with him and then stick with him so whatever happened, no matter how bad it was, she would know. “Who’s we?” she remembered to ask.

  “I’m with Bennie Chen, the Berkshire County DA. Don’t worry. Everything’s under control. He’ll be holding a press conference first thing in the morning that should get plenty of attention and get you off the hook.”

  “I know. I’m not worried about that mission.” She wouldn’t bother going into what she was worried about since she wasn’t exactly sure. Besides, Peter sure as hell wasn’t explaining everything to her. Underneath the hysteria, she was annoyed at that.

  “Good. See you in two hours.” He paused. “Wh
o’s driving?”

  “Bill.”

  “Let me talk to Bob,” he ordered.

  “He’s sleeping in the back seat.” She wasn’t any good at lying. Bob looked at her. He knew.

  “Jesus,” Peter said.

  “Leave them alone. We’re fine. See you at Sarah’s.” She clicked off, then glanced behind her. Bob looked accusing. He lifted his hand with his wireless in it and silently asked for a reason he shouldn’t call his boss. Now she had to come up with one.

  “I don’t want him to think that Sarah set me up. What Mrs. Boyd said sounded very damning for Sarah, I know. Sarah gave information to St. Cyr, but there’s no way she knew what he was going to do with it. Don’t call him. Don’t tell him there’s a warrant out on her. He’s looking for her anyway.” It was the best she could do. It was all true. Bob nodded.

  “I know you asked the Sheriff to hold off, but he’s going to call the DA and tell him about the warrant eventually,” Bob said.

  “I know.” She managed a small smile of thanks as Bob lowered the phone like it was a gun and he’d just spared her life. Funny, she didn’t feel relieved. Turning back to Dennis reminded her why she wasn’t bothering with the relief stage. He was still busy talking—or more like listening—to his phone.

  “Shit. Okay. Thanks. We’ll see you in Cambridge.” Dennis flipped the phone closed and tossed it onto her lap with a shake of his head.

  “What?”

  “Nothing good. It turns out St. Cyr is delusional.”

  “Do tell.”

  “Don’t be a smart ass. He could have violent ideations—or some such fucked-up nonsense.” Dennis glared at her. She glared back. He turned away with nothing less than a pout.

  “I get it. Drop me at Sarah’s on your way to Cambridge, Bill. I’m meeting the posse there.”

  “Do tell.” Dennis said.

  She smiled again and shook her head. She was definitely going to miss Clever Dennis when this was all over.

  The Posse at Sarah’s Apartment

  “This isn’t a good sign. The door’s ajar,” Benny Chen said. Peter nudged him aside and walked in. He blew out a whistle. Benny was right behind him.

  “I’ll call it in. B and E at the very least. They can dust for prints,” Benny said.

  “Ten to one they’d match St. Cyr. Too bad he’s not on file.” Peter continued to look around at the disarray. The desk had been rifled and the computer on top was still blinking. He moved there. No disc in the drive. No files up.

  “Nothing but a blue screen,” Peter said.

  “What does that mean? I’ll check the other rooms.”

  “It means the computer is trash—for the moment. An expert might be able to revive it. Won’t do us any good tonight, though. We need a lead on where to look for this character. Looks like Sarah hasn’t been here since it was trashed.”

  “If she’s smart she’s found a good hiding place and won’t come out any time soon.” The DA emerged from a quick trip into the bedroom.

  “She is definitely smart. But we either need to find her before he does or we need to find St. Cyr.” Then Peter thought of the third player. “Shit.”

  “What?” Bennie stopped mid-step on his way to the kitchen.

  “Theresa Torini.”

  “Shit.”

  Peter didn’t know Theresa’s number. He dialed the mayor’s mobile number instead. God bless Acer for that piece of private information.

  “Mayor, this is Peter Douglas. Is Theresa at home this evening?”

  “PJD? You’re a little old to be asking after my daughter, aren’t you?” The man sounded wary in spite of his sarcasm.

  “This is serious. St. Cyr has been blackmailing your daughter and Mrs. Brown about her affair with you.” Peter heard the man blanch. When he spoke his voice was a rasp.

  “Theresa is out at Quincy Market. I’m not sure exactly where. Where is Priscilla? How is she?”

  “She’ll be fine. She’s at the police station in Lenox giving a statement. She could probably use some moral support right about now.”

  “Will you find Theresa? I need to drive to the Berkshires.” The mayor gave him Theresa’s cell number.

  “I’ve got it covered.”

  “How much trouble is Priscilla in?”

  “Some. She may be able to cooperate her way out of most of it.” There was a pause on the other end after Peter stopped talking. He bet the mayor was figuring things out. He was a smart man. He knew the minute St. Cyr’s name was mentioned it had to do with the Madeline Grace scandal. He’d also probably pick Peter dead last as someone he’d want help from. Mayor Torini cleared his throat.

  “I’m not sure how much yet, but we both know I owe you for this.” His voice was grim. The mayor needed Peter’s cooperation to avoid a huge scandal about his affair. It would be a challenge, but they could probably keep a lid on it. That was Peter’s intention all along, but the mayor didn’t know that. No doubt he didn’t like his spot one bit.

  “Don’t worry about a thing. I’m doing this for Madeline, not you. Besides, Mrs. Brown seems like she’s come a long way. Maybe you had something to do with that. I figure down deep you’re a decent sort. And Theresa—well, how can you fault a girl for trying to protect her father? Theresa is a decent girl under all the fluff.” Peter took a deep breath. Enough of the smoothing over of rough edges. “I’ve got to go. DA Bennie Chen will meet you out in the Berkshires and fill you in on all the details. I’m sure something can be worked out so the bad guys get their due and the good guys stay out of harm’s way.”

  “I’ll be there in two hours. You just take care of my girl Theresa. Keep her out of trouble for me.”

  “She’ll be fine.”

  “I won’t ever forget this, Douglas.”

  “I’m sure none of us will. I’ll touch base on the other side.” Peter clicked off as Bennie started fidgeting next to him.

  “I hope we’re not making rash promises to keep the so-called good guys out of harm’s way,” Bennie said.

  “Don’t get fainthearted on me now, Benny. We can pull it off. You do your job with the press. The judge, the senator and I will help out with the rest,” Peter said. They walked through the trashed apartment back to the front door.

  “It’s getting late,” Bennie said as they walked back out onto the street. Peter looked at his watch. It was 2:30 a.m. and they hadn’t found Sarah or St. Cyr.

  Bill pulled to a screeching halt at the curb in front of them.

  Madeline Grace stepped out of the car, kicked the door closed behind her and walked straight toward Peter as he pulled the door to Sarah’s apartment closed behind him. Neither of them stopped walking until they were face-to-face and touching. Bennie coughed.

  “She’s not here,” Peter said.

  “Something’s wrong,” Mad said to him.

  “Someone else was here.” He put his hands on her arms. She didn’t flinch. She was in trooper mode. Only the slight glisten in her eyes gave her emotion away. He hoped to hell she didn’t cry because that would be his undoing.

  Bennie coughed again. Peter refocused.

  “I need to head back to the Berkshires,” Bennie said. “You’ll have to handle the St. Cyr connection with the locals in Cambridge from here on. I’ll have my people line up the nurse for the press. Don’t worry. I’ll be there to meet the mayor. I’ll keep all the innocents out of it.” Bennie smiled at Madeline. “This press conference will definitely be an attention getter and is guaranteed to get you off the hook.” He reached in his pocket. “McBain asked for this.” He handed her a flash drive. “It’s the recording of the nurse—Mrs. Boyd’s confession at the house,” he said.

  That was about all the heroics Peter could stand for the moment. One more grand gesture and he’d deck the guy.

  Bill came over to the group and Peter said, “You can head back to HQ. I’ve got Madeline from here.” Bill gave Peter a salute and a nod to Madeline.

  “Let’s go.” Peter kept an arm around Madelin
e and said to Benny, “You can drop us at the police department before you head back home. We’ll take some uniforms with us to St. Cyr’s to execute the warrant.” He turned to Madeline. “I need to call Rick on the way.” They took two steps and his cell phone vibrated.

  “Where the hell are you and what the hell is going on?” Rick sounded more alarmed than angry.

  “Rick, do me a favor.” Peter pushed Madeline forward to the car while he spoke into his goddamned blessed wireless. “Go pick up Theresa Torini. She’s at Quincy Market.”

  “Yeah. Great. Anywhere special?” Sarcasm from Rick.

  “Find her and bring her to Cambridge.” Serious from Peter.

  “Trouble?”

  “We can’t find St. Cyr and he’s been blackmailing Theresa and Senator Davis Brown’s wife. We also can’t find Sarah.”

  “Hell. Figures she’s involved. Are you going to tell me what this is all about or what?”

  “I’ll fill you in on the details later. Find Theresa and bring her back to HQ. It’s probably nothing, but she could be vulnerable. No sense taking chances. The mayor’s counting on us. He’s going to the Berkshires.”

  “Yeah. Okay. And someday this will all make sense to me.”

  Peter smiled. He was definitely enjoying this at his friend’s expense. It was better not to lose his sense of humor in these situations, wasn’t it? That worked for him, but looking at Madeline’s saucer-like glistening eyes as she listened to him, he turned away and spoke more softly to Rick. “Just do it.”

  “It’s done.” Rick said no more and they clicked off.

  Rick Rescues Damsel in Possible Distress

  Rick had never felt a kick of adrenaline quite like the one he got just then. Hell, maybe he could get into this action-hero gig after all. Then he thought of Theresa. There was some warmth. Couldn’t be helped. She was young and pretty. He was male. Even if she was a piece of pure fluff, the very epitome of why he was a confirmed misogynist. One thing, though, she was very loyal and devoted to her father. They adored each other. The picture clicked in. St. Cyr was cashing in on her Achilles heel somehow. He had something on the mayor. And the bastard was using Theresa instead of confronting her father.