by Lauren Carr
“You have no proof that I killed Karin Bond. The DNA report says that body was Lacey.”
“Did,” Mac said. “Doesn’t anymore.” He grinned. “You only think you’re smart. You gave us Karin’s toothbrush and claimed it was Lacey’s. When the DNA was a match, the ID on the body was determined to be Stan Gould’s new wife.” He held up a finger. “But you forgot something.”
He had her interest. Her eyes narrowed. “What?”
“Karin Bond has been unemployed for the last two years. She was desperate for a job. We contacted the employment agency she went through and found that she has put in numerous applications—many to employers who require a drug test as part of the hiring process.” He leaned toward her and Marietta. “She peed in a cup a dozen times, and each one of those places keep samples of it—which means Karin’s DNA is all over the place. One of those places sent the urine sample to the ME and—” He placed the report in front of them. “It’s a match. Karin Bond is the woman whose body was found at the castle with Stan Gould.” He pointed at her. “You ordered Karin Bond to meet the two of you at the castle after eight o’clock and to bring a five-gallon can with gasoline. Then, you killed both Stan Gould and Karin. You then went on your murder spree—tried to kill the police chief because he saw that you looked familiar and you couldn’t take a chance on him remembering you after killing in his jurisdiction. After that, you strangled a server at the Spencer Inn to gain access to Raymond Hollister’s breakfast in order to poison him because he did recognize you as Taylor Jones. Then, you went back to the castle to burn up the bodies to cover up that you had taken Karin’s identity. You dropped off the cell phone you used as Lacey in order to further prove Finch’s affair with her as motive for him killing Lacey and Gould.”
Marietta was searching for her voice when the black widow laughed. “That’s quite a story.”
“It’s the truth,” Mac said. “You’re a cold blooded black widow—a serial killer, but you’re not as smart as you think you are.”
“That’s what you think,” she said with a grin. “Okay, I confess,” with a sweep of her arms, she announced, “to everything.”
“My client is insane,” Marietta said in a choked voice.
“No, I’m not,” she said. “Go ahead. Lock me up. You’ll see. I guarantee you, as smart as I am, no prison has ever been able to hold me—and never will be.” She cackled while looking at him. “When I break out, I’ll come visit you, Mac Faraday. Have you ever danced with a black widow?”
The confession had an abrupt ending when there was a hard knock on the door. Bogie and David were waiting in the hallway with Ben.
“What’s going on?” Mac asked. “I’m getting a confession.”
“Those prints I ran through Interpol’s database,” Bogie said, “sent up all sorts of red flags.”
Mac dared him. “Don’t tell me she’s an undercover agent.”
“No, she’s an international serial killer,” Bogie said. “Feds are on their way. Italy has already tried to claim her.”
“We get her first,” David said.
“From what little bit I got from the feds,” Bogie said, “this black widow, who no one knows, has been convicted of murder both in Italy and Spain. They think her country of origin is Germany. She hooks up with wealthy men, gains access to their bank accounts, kills them, drains their accounts dry, and then escapes using a new identity right under the cop’s noses. The two times she didn’t get away with it, she went to jail and escaped. In Spain, she walked out dressed up as a male guard. In Italy, she killed another inmate who was due for release and walked out using her identity.”
Bogie leveled his gaze on Mac. “In Italy, after she escaped, she hunted down the detective who had captured her, and castrated him before slashing his throat.”
Mac felt the blood draining from his face while Bogie, Ben, and David shot involuntary glances down at his crotch.
Ben’s voice was sharp. “David—”
“I’m calling in all of our officers,” David’s voice was sharper. “We’re going to keep this woman locked down so tight she’ll never see the light of day again.”
Chapter Twenty-One
They had been so busy investigating murders that they’d failed to notice the date. It was Halloween night and there was a full moon. Luckily, Archie had bought candy the week before and hidden it from Mac and Gnarly. All she had to do was take it out, dump it into a dish, and keep the bowl up high out of Gnarly’s reach.
With a small year-round population on Deep Creek Lake, the goblins ringing the doorbell were few and far between—which was good for Mac and Gnarly, who eyed the left-over candy for themselves.
Molly had loosened up enough to take Gnarly’s love seat, which he freely offered to her. He stretched out on the floor in front of it. With the candy bowl in the room, Gnarly was torn between what to be more focused on, the beautiful white German shepherd or the red licorice on the mantle.
“Are you going to tell Archie?” David had rushed into the kitchen and bent over to whisper into Mac’s ear while he was loading the dishwasher after they had eaten dinner.
After the feds had arrived at the Spencer police station, you could have cut the silence with a knife in Mac’s SUV on the drive home. Considering the black widow’s history, David was nervous about her being held in the tiny police station’s holding cells. But that was where she was until she could be arraigned on murder charges the next day, and moved to the county jail.
While they had filled in Archie and Chelsea about the case during dinner, Mac had neglected to mention the threat the serial killer had made toward him, which prompted David’s rush to ask him at the first opportunity.
Loading the dishwasher, Mac was so startled that he stabbed his hand on the point of a knife and almost broke a plate. “Can’t you warn someone before sneaking up on them?” he hissed while tearing off a paper towel to wipe the blood from his hand.
“Then it wouldn’t be sneaking,” David said. “I noticed that you didn’t tell Archie about the threat this woman made toward you.”
“Because all she’d do is worry,” Mac said. “No, I am not going to tell her, and neither are you.”
“You can’t tell me what to do.”
“How many perps have you arrested who threatened to come back and kill you when they got out?” When David didn’t answer, Mac slid the dish tray into the dishwasher and slammed the door shut. “That’s why I’m not going to tell her. If I tell her about every threat that has been made against me, she’d never sleep at night.”
“I think the fact that this woman has managed to escape big prisons in foreign countries proves that this is a viable threat.”
“I disagree,” Mac said. “I’m not worried, and I don’t want her to be worried.” He pressed his finger against David’s chest with each word when he ordered, “Don’t say a word.”
“Don’t say a word about what?” Archie asked when she and Chelsea came in with Gnarly and Molly on their heels. “You two have been in here for quite a while. What’s going on?”
“The black widow says she’s going to escape and when she does, she’d going to hunt Mac down and slit his throat after castrating him,” David said, before turning his attention to Mac. “You’re not the boss of me.”
When Archie found her voice, it was much higher than normal. “And you weren’t going to tell me?”
David grabbed Chelsea’s hand. “Hey, Chelsea, have I shown you the grandfather’s clock. It’s been shot out twice and it still keeps ticking. Amazing!” He pulled her out of the kitchen to leave Archie glaring at Mac.
By her side, even Gnarly was cocking his head at Mac with a glare in his eyes.
“I can explain,” Mac said.
In spite of his best efforts, David was unable to hide how worn out he was from the shooting. After dinner, he coll
apsed onto the sofa. He still had many days of recovery ahead, and was fighting the need for pain killers. He preferred to numb the pain this evening with a smooth cognac.
In preparation for a relaxing evening, Archie poured a glass of wine, which she and Mac sipped between serving treats to the trick-or-treaters.
“Damian Wagner was the first victim she didn’t sleep with.” After serving Chelsea a cup of hot herbal tea, Mac reported the details they had learned from the killer’s confession. “He flipped out when he found out that she wasn’t his daughter. To protect the scam that she and Hollister were working, she killed him. That murder wasn’t planned. However, after that—”
“She already knew the taste of blood.” With her glass of white wine in hand, Archie sat down on the floor at Mac’s feet and stroked Gnarly’s ears. Gazing with adoration up at Molly on his loveseat, Gnarly rested his head on his mistress’s shoulder.
“Killing comes easy to her,” Mac said with a nod of his head. “Of course, the editor would have noticed that Wagner wasn’t around and start to suspect something. She seduced him, for the fun of it—then she poisoned him with poison slipped into a glass of wine. She already had her plan for escape in place. She took on the role of Rafaela Diaz. She put on a costume of Rafaela, including fake tattoos—”
“Riley must have seen that,” David said. “In his insane mind, she was shape-shifting.”
“He tried to intervene when she killed Rafaela,” Mac said. “She told us that in her statement. She stabbed him and he backed off and ran. As the housekeeper, she told the police it was the wolf man.”
“The shape-shifter points the finger at the wolf man,” Chelsea noted.
“She’s not a true black widow,” Archie said. “She didn’t kill Kyle Finch.”
“Due to his own greed, he managed to escape,” Mac said. “She was planning to kill Finch. That was when she established the Lacey identity and posted those sites. She was planning to frame an old girlfriend of his, who he had dumped for her in Cancun. But then, Kyle suggested they target Stan Gould. He didn’t know murder was on her agenda.”
“He thought she was only helping him to take over the company,” David said. “He had no idea what a monster he had set lose on his boss.”
“What’s going to happen to Finch?” Archie asked.
“He knows he escaped a bullet,” David said. “He’s cooperating with us to keep her—whatever her name is—behind bars.”
“While what he did was unethical,” Chelsea said, “Finch did nothing illegal. However, word has spread throughout the business world about what he did. Big business is very much like a small town. Those loyal to Gould will black ball him and refuse to do business with him. No one will trust him. He’ll have a very hard time building up the respect Gould had.”
“Do you know yet how many people this black widow has killed throughout the years?” Archie asked.
Mac shrugged. “Over a dozen—at least. It’s going to be hard since we don’t know her real identity. Fleming is going to be prosecuting a Jane Doe. The FBI is trying to connect her to murder cases in the United States. Interpol is checking other countries. Not only would she kill the wealthy men, but she would kill whoever she had to in order take on their identity or to shift the suspicion elsewhere.”
“Collateral damage,” Archie said.
Mac looked down into the cognac in his snifter. “She’s so damn smart and evil. It’s a fatal combination. I can see the evil seeping out of her pores.”
“You can smell it.” David recalled Riley’s assertion.
“As smart as she is,” Archie said, “I know the killer always comes back to the scene of the crime, but why did she choose to come back here? Was it Gould’s idea?”
“No, it was hers,” Mac said. “She actually laughed when she admitted to it. All of these murders were a big game to her. Astaire Castle was where she got her start as a killer. To her, it would have been the crowning jewel to commit the same murder, in the same town, and get away with it once more.”
“She didn’t count on running into Hollister and me,” David said.
Chelsea turned to him. “Did you recognize her as a woman you had slept with when you first met her as Lacey?”
“I recognize every woman I’ve ever been with,” David said. “I remember every nuance, every curve, every scent.”
Chelsea was doubtful. “So you knew instantly that she was Genevieve when she was introduced to you as Lacey?”
“Careful, David,” Mac warned.
Archie jumped to his defense by changing the subject. “What’s going to happen to Riley?”
“He’s being moved to the psychiatric hospital tomorrow,” Chelsea said. “An expert from Boston will meet him there to analyze him. The psychiatric community is very excited about him. He’s going to need intense treatment for a very long time. He’s convinced he’s a werewolf.”
“Wolf man or werewolf?” Mac asked while adding in a firm tone. “There’s a difference.”
“I know,” Chelsea sighed. She grasped David’s hand. “If he’s happy living in the wild like a wolf, is there really anything wrong with that, as long as he’s not hurting himself or anyone?”
“The guy thinks he’s a wolf,” Mac said.
“Damian Wagner believed he was a wolf man,” David said.
“Really, David?” Mac asked. “Do you believe in werewolves and wolf men?”
“I believe there’s a lot that we humans don’t, and can’t, and maybe aren’t meant to understand,” David said.
“Next thing you’re going to tell me is that this black widow is really a shape-shifter,” Mac laughed. “We found the body suit that she wore under her clothes to make her appear chubby when she turned into Karin Bond. She had extensive makeup and wigs that she wore to change her appearance. We also found the leather belt she used to strangle Sue, the server at the Inn. Riley has a mental illness that makes him believe he’s a wolf or dog or a spirit dog. Those cold spots in the castle were due to drafts. Everything can be explained.”
“And the crime rate spikes during full moons,” David said, “like tonight.”
Mac’s eyes narrowed to blue slits. The two men weighed each other’s beliefs before Mac gave in with a shake of his finger. “I think this is one area where we’re going to have to agree to disagree.”
“I think so.” With effort, David moved to rise to his feet. He allowed Chelsea to drape her arm around his waist to help him up. “I’m tired. I’m going to the cottage to go to bed.”
“Be careful of any werewolves,” Mac called to them with a laugh, opening the door to serve yet another band of goblins.
When David opened the deck doors, Gnarly and Molly raced out into the darkness. They let the two dogs frolic in the garden among the downed leaves blowing in the frigid night wind.
“I’m not an invalid,” David objected when Chelsea raced ahead to open the door of the cottage for him.
“You always have to put on such a brave face.” After he went inside, she called out into the darkness. “Molly! Come!” Molly ran in with Gnarly right behind her. “Does he belong here?”
“Gnarly belongs wherever he wants to belong.” David reached inside his fridge for a bottle of beer. “I’d offer you a beer but you don’t drink.”
“Alcohol is a bad combo with my medication,” she said. “Do you need anything? I’ll help you get ready for bed.”
“I’m fine,” he said. “I’m going to take this beer to bed.”
Beyond David, Chelsea saw that Gnarly was raiding the basket in the corner of the cabin’s great room. It was filled with dog toys. From the basket, the dog selected a rubber chicken that had a squeak toy inside and jumped up onto the sofa to enjoy it.
The bedroom was in a loft on the far side of the cabin with the kitchen underneath. The big window
s in the cottage provided a tree top view of the lake from David’s queen-sized bed at the top of the circular stairs leading up to the loft.
Chelsea called to Gnarly and Molly to come with her. While Molly obeyed, Gnarly refused. Totally enthralled with shaking the chicken by its neck until it snapped, the German shepherd shook it viciously. Frustrated by the chicken’s refusal to die, he continued attacking the toy. Lying on the floor in front of the sofa, Molly watched him with unblinking eyes. It was doubtful she had ever seen such an attack on a toy before.
“Stay for a drink,” David said. “I have flavored bottle water.” He reached into the fridge. “Hey, I have strawberries. Where did those come from?”
“I love strawberries,” she said.
“I remember that.” Chuckling, he took out the bowl. “I have a feeling Archie is playing matchmaker. Well, we can’t let them go to waste. I can melt some chocolate for you to dip them in.”
“You sit down and I’ll melt the chocolate,” she ordered.
On her way to the kitchen, Chelsea paused to pat Gnarly on the head, which interrupted his attack on the rubber chicken that refused to die. Gnarly uttered a low growl with his jaws clamped down on the chicken’s neck. “I think that chicken is winning,” she told Gnarly.
Enraged, Gnarly shook the rubber chicken so hard that the force of his attack whirled the dog around in a complete circle before he plopped down onto the sofa with the chicken still in his mouth. A squeak from the chicken revealed that even that had failed in killing the prey. Intrigued, Molly inched in closer. She sniffed the two of them to learn more about this game. Gnarly rose up to offer the chicken’s head to her. Hesitant at first, she decided to dive in and grabbed it. A game of tug-of-war ensued.
David had poured his beer into a frosted mug and her water into a wine glass and set them on the table in the dining area. He took out a bowl for the strawberries while she got a pan to put the chocolate in.
Chelsea’s girlish shriek made him almost drop the bowl of strawberries. When he turned to see the cause, she rushed around him to jump up onto the table. She wielded a can of whipped cream. “Look at what I found in your fridge. If this doesn’t bring back memories.”
