5 The Murders at Astaire Castle

by Lauren Carr

“Wolf Man,” Chelsea corrected Archie. “There’s a difference.”

  “Whatever,” Archie replied.

  “Riley would say that was important,” Chelsea said. “That was all I heard about when we were growing up. Riley made everyone sick of it. His friends started drifting away one by one. Even though David never had any interest in any of that, he didn’t abandon Riley. He still kept coming around.” A soft grin crossed her face. “I convinced myself that he was coming to see me.”

  “I have no doubt but that he was,” Archie said.

  “By the time we were in high school, David was his only friend. He stood by Riley when no one else would—even me, I’m sorry to say.”

  “David is a good man.” Archie squeezed her hand. “He’s also very strong. He’s going to make it through this.”

  Chelsea squeezed her hand back.

  When the doctor turned the corner to come into the waiting room, the women rose to their feet in unison. Even Molly stood up to hear the news.

  “You’re here for Police Chief David O’Callaghan?” Not knowing which woman to address, the doctor looked from one to the other and back again.

  “Yes.” Archie felt Chelsea squeezing her hand so tight that her knuckles hurt.

  “He’s out of surgery,” the doctor said. “We stopped the bleeding. He was very lucky. The bullet went through his side without hitting any organs. Barring any complications, he should recover completely and be released in a couple of days.”

  Chelsea closed her eyes. “Thank you, God,”’ she said out loud while still clutching Archie’s hand.

  Archie was beginning to lose the feeling in her fingers. “When can we see him?”

  “He’s in post-op right now,” the doctor reported. “In a couple of hours, we’ll be moving him into a private room. You can see him then.”

  “I need to call Mac.” Archie extracted her hand from Chelsea’s and flexed her fingers to regain the feeling in them to dial her phone.

  Mac gave Bogie a thumbs-up sign at the news.

  Even with her on speaker phone, it was difficult to hear Archie over the cruiser’s siren while they raced across the mountain behind the parade of fire engines heading for Astaire Castle. The smoke was getting heavier as they approached.

  “We’ll keep a couple of our guys attached to his butt to make sure he stays that way,” Bogie yelled loud enough for Archie to hear.

  “Any idea yet about who did this?” she asked.

  “Whoever it is, they’re covering their tracks very well,” Mac told her after updating her on Raymond Hollister’s murder.

  “It almost seems like a professional hit to me,” Hector said from where he was in the back seat of Bogie’s cruiser.

  “David had worked in special forces in the Marines.” Bogie swerved off the road to where the terrain was smoother. “Maybe it’s payback for something he did overseas.”

  “But why Hollister?” Mac asked. “David says he never met Hollister until yesterday.”

  “David was out of country when the Wagner murders happened,” Bogie said.

  “The only connection David had with the Wagners was a fling with Genevieve,” Hector said with an evil chuckle. “Maybe our killer is a ghost scorned.”

  “Which brings us back to ‘why kill Raymond Hollister?’” Mac asked.

  Archie reminded them that she was on the other end of the cell phone. “Mac, I have to go. When you get a chance, can you run by the manor and let Gnarly out?”

  “Why can’t he let himself out?”

  “Because you get mad at him when he does,” she shot back before hanging up.

  It was a good thing she had. The roar of the fire company’s helicopter swooping in to douse the flames would have drowned her voice out.

  One of Spencer’s most dependable and youngest officers, Officer Fletcher, flagged them down when they pulled up to the gate. “Any word on the chief?”

  “He’s going to be fine,” Bogie said. “They patched him up and expect him to be out of the hospital in a couple of days.”

  “All right!” Fletcher pumped his fist into the air.

  “How bad is it?” Bogie gestured toward the smoke pouring up into the sky from on the other side of the stone wall.

  “Not as bad as we first thought,” Fletcher said. “Two vehicles were torched along with the ground floor of the castle. You can smell the gasoline. A tourist helicopter spotted it and called it in before it spread to take out the mountain.”

  “Two vehicles?” Bogie asked. “What vehicles?”

  Fletcher shrugged. “A sedan and a Mercedes SUV.” He frowned. “But it gets weirder.”

  “Can’t be any weirder than what we’ve already run into,” Bogie said.

  “What is it, Fletcher?” Mac asked.

  “Two DBs,” Fletcher said. “Two dead bodies inside the castle.”

  Bogie looked straight ahead out the windshield. “This is a record. Four murders and one attempted murder in Spencer in less than four hours.”

  The deputy chief parked the cruiser on the outside of the wall to allow room for the fire engines to get full access to the castle and grounds. Mac was the first one through the gates. The stone walls had protected the structure very well. Unfortunately, it did little to protect the grounds or the two vehicles parked in front of the abandoned fountain. The sedan and SUV were only smoldering shells of what they had been.

  “Is that a late model Cutlass?” Mac asked Bogie what he already knew.

  Fletcher came up behind them. “The fire didn’t destroy the plate on the Mercedes. We ran it and it’s registered to Gould Enterprises.”

  “Gould as in Stan Gould?” Mac felt the color draining from his face.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Any ID on the victims?” Bogie asked.

  “Burnt beyond recognition,” Fletcher said. “We’re going to need DNA or dental records to ID them.”

  “What time was the fire spotted?” Mac asked.

  Officer Fletcher checked his notes on his table. “It was called in at eight-minutes after eight.”

  His eyes narrowing in thought, Mac turned to Bogie and Hector. “David was shot around six-thirty. Sue was killed a little after seven o’clock. Hollister was poisoned quarter-til-eight. This fire was started shortly after eight o’clock.”

  “Our killer is having a busy day,” Hector said.

  “Let’s hope they’re done.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  “The last thing that dog needs is caffeine,” Mac told Bogie after Gnarly charged up into the front seat of the cruiser. He helped himself to Bogie’s leftover coffee before being dragged out and shoved into the back.

  Now, on their way to The Wisp to identify what unlucky souls were caught in the fire at Astaire Castle, Mac churned over the events of the past couple of days. After running through the list, he said, “Twenty-four hours ago, I was wrestling with Gnarly in a dumpster in the back parking lot at the hospital.”

  “I’m afraid to ask why,” Bogie said with a chuckle.

  “Gnarly decided to go dumpster diving,” Mac said. “He jumped up onto the hood of a car, onto the top of a van, and then dove into the dumpster to dig for chicken bones that he’s not supposed to have.”

  Bogie laughed. “Ingenious.”

  Mac chuckled. “You know, last night, I offered Molly a dog biscuit. She sat there looking at me like I was … I don’t know what. She refused to take it. Chelsea told me that I had to say it was okay. Once I told her that it was okay, she took it—nice and politely—almost said thank you.”

  “Those service dogs are very well-trained,” Bogie said. “They have to be and they don’t come cheap. They have to get a lot of top-notch training to get certified.”

  Mac squinted down into his lap before tu
rning around to look at Gnarly, who was chewing on one of his back feet.

  “Jealous?” Bogie asked.

  “Maybe I’m addicted to the thrill of the unknown,” Mac said. “I mean—” He stopped to form the words. “Willingham says that my net worth is now over three hundred million dollars. I could do whatever I want to do. When I was a cop, my fantasy was lying on the beach while reading a good Damian Wagner novel. Yet—”

  “Here you are looking for his killer,” Bogie said with a laugh. “You have no obligation to be here in this cruiser with me, Mac.”

  “You’d have to kill me to keep me from being here.” Mac smiled back at Gnarly. “I can’t help but respect a dog with a mind of his own, and I kind of like not knowing what he’s going to do next. I’m addicted to the thrill of not knowing if I’m going to have all my fingers after handing him a biscuit. It’s the same type of thrill I get while working a case and finding out who is behind the murders and why.”

  “That’s what makes you a good cop,” Bogie said. “To tell you the truth, even if I was retired, I’d still be here in this cruiser. You know I got a son?”

  Slowly, Mac shook his head. “I thought you had a daughter and a couple of grand kids—”

  “Sophie’s by my second wife,” Bogie said. “Her and her kids take after Marilyn’s side in the looks department. Sophie’s got a good man. I lucked out there.”

  Mac sensed a but coming. “Your son?”

  “By my first wife,” Bogie said. “We were young. Right out of high school and I went into the Army. By the time I got back from Vietnam, the marriage was over and my son had no idea who I was. The last time I saw Greg ...” He swallowed. “I’m closer to David than I ever was to my son.” His fury was rejuvenated. “If I get my hands on whoever took a shot at him—”

  “I’m with you, Bogie.”

  At the Wisp Resort, Mac and Bogie were instantly escorted to a conference room. At Mac’s direction, Gnarly sat next to the door with his unblinking eyes aimed at the man who took charge of the meeting.

  A tall, slender, dark-haired man, whom Mac recognized as Kyle, who was the one called on to move Stan Gould’s entourage from the Spencer Inn to the Wisp, now stood at the position of honor at the head of the table. It wasn’t difficult to see that he was in charge among the room of corporate types.

  “Mr. Faraday, I believe we met briefly yesterday morning,” he said without offering his hand. “I’m Kyle Finch, Stan Gould’s chief vice president. I believe we have an issue that you and your people here in the Spencer police department need to take care of.”

  “Excuse me,” Mac said with a broad smile, “but you seem to have the mistaken impression that you’re in a position to give me orders.”

  Kyle flashed an equally wide grin at him. “I apologize if we got off on the wrong foot yesterday. We need your help. We believe something has happened to Stan Gould and his wife.”

  Mac turned to Bogie to let him react to the announcement.

  “Well,” Bogie said, “that’s very interesting, because we’ve found two unidentified bodies and a car that’s registered to Gould Enterprises.”

  Bogie’s announcement caused gasps from around the room. Kyle Finch dropped down into his chair.

  “How did this happen?” a woman sitting near the head of the table asked. “Were they murdered? How did they die?”

  “They said they were unidentified,” Kyle told her. “It may not be them.”

  Mac and Bogie took the time to meet the eye of every executive around the table. Mac saw a new face. She wasn’t among the entourage the day before. It was the woman who had gasped upon the news of the two bodies. Of everyone around the table, she was the only one with tears in her eyes at the news. Dressed in a heavy sweater and worn skirt, she did not fit in with the rest of the crowd. Her big round glasses covered much of her small face. Her long dark hair fell in a bushy bob down to her shoulders.

  When Mac met her gaze, she dropped her eyes to the note pad in front of her.

  “Let’s get to work.” Bogie broke off the staring contest. “Any thoughts on when Mr. Gould and his bride went to Astaire Castle and why? When was the last time any of you heard from them?”

  “No one has seen either since yesterday afternoon,” Finch said with impatience in his tone. “Look, we have some very important deals going down that we need him for. That means that if you bunch of idiots don’t get your heads out of your butts and find out what happened to him, and who is responsible and pronto; then we all stand to lose a lot of money.” He pointed a finger at both Mac and Bogie. “Consider this a warning. If that happens, then your whole police department will get slapped with a lawsuit to cover our losses.”

  Mac turned in full to Bogie. “In light of the tone of this interview, I believe this case can take a backseat to the other cases that have come in this morning, don’t you, Deputy Chief Bogart?”

  “I believe so,” Bogie said.

  “Come along, Gnarly,” Mac ordered his dog to fall in behind him on their way out of the conference room.

  “Wanna go pick up a donut and some fresh coffee on the way to the station?” Bogie pulled open the door.

  The room vibrated with a crash when Kyle Finch slammed his hand flat down onto the table top. “Now that I have your attention, let me tell you idiots something—I can have the governor on the phone in less than a minute. Maybe he can impress on you the seriousness of this situation.”

  “I doubt it.” Mac shrugged. “Oh, when you call him, tell him that I received his invitation to his daughter’s wedding. There will be two of us coming. I’ll be bringing a date—just haven’t had time to RSVP yet.”

  Finch’s eyes met his. Some of his cockiness dissolved.

  “I think we need to start over,” the woman in the heavy sweater said. “You have to understand, this is very unsettling to all of us.” She brought both of her hands to her heavy bosom. “I’m Karin Bond. I was Lacey’s assistant. I drove in from New York and only got here this morning. Lacey had texted me last night to remind me to bring her red dress and shoes. She had forgotten them. That text came at nine-thirty last night.”

  “Do you know where she was when she sent that text?” Mac asked.

  Karin shook her head.

  “Lacey didn’t want any work to interfere with their romantic evening out,” Kyle said. “She was adamant and insisted that Stan leave his cell phone and security detail behind.”

  Mac turned to Karin. “Yet, Lacey sent you a text last night to ask you to bring her a dress?”

  Karin’s face was blank. “I saved the text if you want to see it.”

  “I’ve never had a woman, on a romantic evening out, suddenly stop everything to send out a text about a dress.” Mac turned to Bogie. “Have you?”

  Bogie shrugged.

  “Can we move on?” Kyle interrupted. “When we discovered this morning that they hadn’t returned, our security chief, Reese Mobley went into their room. Tell them what you found, Reese.”

  Reese handed a cell phone encased in an evidence bag to Bogie. “That’s Mr. Gould’s cell. It has a text message that he received yesterday afternoon about two-thirty. It was from Mac Faraday.” He smirked at Mac.

  Bogie read the text and frowned before holding the phone for Mac to read: Changed mind re sale of castle. $15 mil. Transfer funds to my off-shore account by 5 pm EST or no deal. Will send account number. U & Lacey meet me there @ 7 pm to close deal. Come alone. No lawyers. M. Faraday

  “I didn’t send that.”

  “We didn’t think so,” Reese said. “So I traced the call back to the cell it came from. It’s a pre-paid account. No record of whom it belonged to.”

  “They were set up.” Mac snatched the phone from Bogie’s hand. “Our killer lured them there to kill them and used my name to do it.”

  "T
his suite has already been cleaned," Mac noted with frustration when the hotel manager let them into Stan Gould and Lacey’s suite to search for clues to their murders.

  To prevent any contamination of possible evidence, Gnarly was put back in Bogie’s cruiser. Later, they would discover that not only did Gnarly finish Bogie’s coffee, but he had also found the deputy chief’s hidden stash of energy bars in the center console. Between the coffee and the energy bars, Gnarly was bouncing off the walls the rest of the day.

  The Goulds had rented a penthouse with a mountaintop view. It had two levels, with the master suite on the upper floor. Finch was in an identical suite next door on one side while Karin was in a one-bedroom suite the next floor down. The rest of the employees in Gould’s entourage had a whole floor in the hotel across from Spencer Mountain.

  "All of our rooms are cleaned by one o'clock, unless the guest specifically requests that they not be," the manager said with pride, "not unlike your Spencer Inn. According to our housekeeping records, the hanger was left on the door giving instructions to clean the room."

  "We’ll need samples of both of their DNA for positive identification," Bogie told Karin who had followed them in.

  “Will their toothbrushes do?” Karin asked.

  “Toothbrushes will be excellent,” Bogie said.

  “I’m sure their overnight bags are still here.”

  Bogie followed Karin up the stairs to the master suite.

  Mac went into the room that acted as a sitting room and office. He had only opened up a laptop he found resting on the desk when he heard Kyle Finch's voice in the penthouse foyer. "Faraday! We need to talk! Now!"

  When Mac came into the entrance way, he found Bogie and Karin physically holding Kyle Finch back from coming after him.

  "Listen, Finch," Mac said, "what’s this about?"

  “It’s about the over-one-hundred mil that you stole from Gould’s account,” Finch said. “Like you didn’t think I’d do anything about it."

  Speechless, Mac could only stare at the vice president. Finally, he realized fully what he was being accused of. "What one hundred mil?"