Deadly Deception (An Artisan Mystery Book 1)

by Patricia H. Rushford

  At first she didn’t think he was going to answer. He lifted the weapon out of his shoulder holster and set it on the seat beside him and then shoved the key into the ignition. The Tahoe roared to life. His eyes held a look of regret. “One of us was followed.”

  “The CD?” Her gaze darted toward the house and to the homes on either side, then behind them. Her breath caught and the fear she’d become accustomed to during the last few hours eroded any sense of security she’d gained from being guarded by police.

  “It wasn’t there when I brought the car into the driveway this morning.” Michael backed the SUV around and headed down the street. “Someone knows you’re here.”

  Carolyn buckled herself in. “What now?”

  He scowled. “We’ll go to the hotel and then try to find a safe house.”

  After a long silence he asked, “Did Marla tell anyone where she was taking you?”

  “No. At least not that I know of.”

  “And what about you? Did you call a friend?”

  “No, of course not.” She balled her hands into fists then released them along with her sudden anger.

  “How well do you know Marla?”

  Carolyn shook her head. “We’ve been friends since grade school. She’d never jeopardize my safety. Never.”

  Michael made a left on Spy-Glass Road. He checked the rear view mirror for the umpteenth time.

  “Maybe you were followed when you went to my apartment.” Carolyn suggested.

  “Maybe, but I didn’t take your things with me when I left.” Michael glanced her way for a moment. “I called Mrs. Owens and asked her to meet me at the store.”

  “Then someone could have followed her.” Carolyn turned toward him. “That’s possible, isn’t it?”

  He seemed disgusted with himself. “That could be it. Whoever is after you may have seen her with your overnight bag. I met her in the Safeway parking lot, you know how big that place is. Stupid.”

  Carolyn settled a hand on his arm. “Don’t blame yourself. I’m just grateful you and Marla are trying to help me.”

  His Adam’s apple rose and fell, his gaze fixated on her hand. She was apparently getting too personal. His scowl told her he didn’t appreciate her sympathy. She withdrew her hand and folded her arms.

  They drove the rest of the way into town in a strained silence. Carolyn wished she could say or do something to ease his mind. She hated seeing him so distressed and knowing she was the cause of it.

  Michael couldn’t believe his stupidity. He’d been worried about Marla absconding with Carolyn and putting her in jeopardy when in reality he had likely been the culprit. He needed some time to think about their next move. They’d have to find another place to keep her. At the moment he, Marla and Carolyn were at the mercy of the enemy. Michael had no idea what to expect. Whoever had left that CD on the seat could be Adam Burke’s killer and he could be watching them right now.

  “Do you think Brian is behind this? He thinks I killed his father and he threatened me at the hospital.”

  “I wish I knew. I’ll have Doug check into Brian’s whereabouts while we scope out the hotel.”

  His cell phone vibrated against his chest. “Someone from CSI.” He pressed talk. “Stedman.”

  “Hi Michael. It’s Amy.” Amy was one of the ballistics experts at the CSI lab in Portland. “I have some answers for you regarding the trajectory of the bullets fired from the gun found in the hotel room where Adam Burke was killed.”

  “Fire away.”

  “Very funny.”

  He grinned. “Okay, shoot.”

  She laughed. “You’re impossible. You want the results or not?”

  “Okay.” He sobered. “Go ahead.”

  “The bullet that hit Burke was fired by someone standing about four feet in front of him. Almost a straight shot though there was a slight upward angle. The bullet went straight into his heart. The guy didn’t have a chance. The second bullet, which we found, by the way, was lodged in the wall about four inches up from the floor. You were right, Michael. The blood spatter indicates that the woman whose prints were on the gun was already on the floor when Burke was shot. That bullet went into the wall.”

  Relief swooshed through him. Carolyn was innocent. His first impression had been right on. She was as much a victim as Burke. Michael thanked Amy and ended the call. He shouldn’t have been so relieved. Carolyn’s guilt or innocence shouldn’t mean anything to him, but it did.

  He’d become invested in her welfare. Maybe even more so now. Michael had a hunch that whoever had killed Adam Burke wouldn’t stop until he’d killed Carolyn as well. Maybe he’d meant to kill her with the drug. At any rate she was a threat to him. Especially if she remembered what had happened.

  “Good news?” Carolyn leaned forward, a drawn smile gracing her lips.

  Michael nodded. “I’d say so.” He pulled into a parking lot under the Pacific Beach Resort and Spa.

  “Are you going to tell me?”

  “That was the crime lab.” He caught her gaze and held it. “You didn’t shoot Burke.”

  She stopped and grabbed his arm. As he turned toward her she caught him in a hug. A moment later she sagged against him and began sobbing.

  He held her close nearly coming unglued himself.

  “Thank you,” she managed. “I knew I couldn’t have killed him. But I couldn’t remember. I still can’t remember.” She straightened and stepped out of his embrace and sucked in a shaky breath. “I’m sorry.” She wiped the moisture off her cheeks with the sleeve of the coral cardigan. “I’m so relieved.”

  As they rode the elevator from the parking garage up to the lobby, Michael shared the details of the lab’s findings.

  The doors slid open and they stepped out. Once in the elegantly appointed lobby, she stopped him. “I’m still a target.”

  He nodded. Michael wanted to pull her into his arms again—to reassure her and to let her know he planned to do everything within his power to protect her, but she moved away.

  Carolyn needed to put some distance between her and the handsome detective. She could have stayed in those strong arms of his forever, but she suspected the feeling wasn’t mutual. He’d seemed embarrassed and at a loss for words. She’d flung herself at him for Pete’s sake. Carolyn shook off her attraction to the man and turned her attention to the job she’d come to do. Remember. Discover some clue as to what had happened Saturday night.

  She settled into one of a set of four brocade chairs that surrounded a round glass topped table. The centerpiece was a colossal arrangement of greenery and flowers. She’d brought her sketch book on which to make notes or drawings. She melted into the velvety soft cushions and took in the ambiance of the place. The front desk had two men in business suits waiting to be checked in. Saturday night there’d been dozens. The lobby had been filled with men and women in evening dress.

  She closed her eyes and imagined herself walking in, then hesitating, wondering if she should leave. Just because she’d gotten an invitation didn’t mean she belonged there. A dress from the Salvation Army Thrift shop, sling back heels from Wal-Mart; what had she been thinking? Getting a commission from a wealthy client didn’t automatically shift her into the upper echelons of society. Before she could retreat that night—scurrying like the mouse she was back to her apartment, Adam Burke had walked up to her with his wife in tow. He greeted her as though she were a long lost relative. “Emily, this is the young artist I was telling you about.” His infectious smile had spread to his wife’s face. “Carolyn, I am so happy to meet you,” she gushed. “I love your work.” She’d sounded sincere and even her hazel eyes displayed her delight. Carolyn almost believed her praises.

  Since the portrait of her husband was to be a surprise, Carolyn didn’t mention it.

  A commotion erupted across the lobby. Mrs. Burke stiffened. “Oh, no. Not again.” Placing a hand on her husband’s arm, she added. “Can’t we have them arrested?”

  Adam smiled and seemed l
ess irritated than Carolyn would have expected. “We probably could, but I happen to agree about the oil trains. They’re just trying to get some publicity for their cause. I imagine hotel security will round them up eventually.”

  A woman dressed in shabby jeans and a sweatshirt and carrying a protest sign stalked across the gleaming marble floor toward them. What was it her sign had said? Something about oil trains and killing Oregon forests.

  A guy with a camera on his shoulder followed her. Several other protesters began shouting, “Keep the oil trains out of the Gorge.”

  Security guards from the hotel and several police officers who’d come to work the event forced the picketers out. Carolyn shuddered as she remembered the woman turning around and glaring at them as if they were the ones causing the disruption. Or had she been glaring at Adam? All she knew was the look had been filled with hate. The old adage, if looks could kill, popped into her mind.

  Carolyn opened her eyes. Michael sat in the chair beside her, giving her an expectant smile.

  “You remembered something didn’t you?” He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees.

  “How can you tell?”

  “Your face is very expressive.”

  “Well, you’re right. I did remember something.” She told him about the protesters they’d encountered in the lobby. “I’ve seen her before. Curley black hair. She’s about my size, maybe a little thinner.”

  “I know who you mean. Greta Conners. The woman is against everything. She’s always being arrested for something.”

  “That was Greta?” No wonder she’d looked familiar.

  “You know her?”

  “From high school. She was about 200 pounds heavier then. She had a chip on her shoulder as big as Alaska and seemed to be angry with everyone. I remember inviting her to church once and she laughed at me. Told me in no uncertain terms to go to you know where. After that I steered clear of her.”

  “Could she be trying to get to you now?” Michael asked as he pulled out his phone and tapped on the screen.

  “I doubt it. I haven’t talked to her in years. I had heard she’d moved out of state. To be honest I didn’t try to keep track. I’ve seen her on television from time to time, but like I said, I didn’t realize it was Greta until you told me.”

  “I’ll check her out just in case—see if she has anything personal against Burke. Environmentalists do a lot of talking and yelling, but don’t usually kill the politicians they clash with.”

  “Hmm,” Carolyn mused. “Judging from the way she was fighting with the security guard; she probably went to jail.”

  “Which would give her an alibi. I’ll check it out. Can you remember anything else?”

  Carolyn nodded. “Brian Burke. He came in while I was talking to Mr. and Mrs. Burke. His mother introduced me to him and we kind of hit it off. I liked him. He offered me his arm when it was time to go into the dining room. I sat at their table.” Brian had been a perfect gentleman that night. She remembered thinking maybe he could end up being that special someone in her life. She didn’t, however, plan to share that thought with Detective Stedman. She shuddered thinking about how violent Brian had been in the emergency room.

  “And yet in the hospital he threatened to kill you.” Michael put words to her thoughts.

  “It was so out of character from the guy at the party.”

  “Maybe he was showing his true colors.”

  “What happened after dinner?”

  “Nothing. We talked about our work and he even asked me to dance. After that . . . I don’t know. It’s as though a fog settled into my mind and obliterated everything.”

  Michael stood and offered her a hand up. “Let’s go take a look at those security tapes.”

  Disappointed in her inability to remember anything significant, she fell into step beside him. Twelve hours of her life had been obliterated and all she could come up with was meeting Burke’s family, seeing Burke’s adversary, James Trenton, and seeing the environmentalists. Of course there were hundreds of people milling around, but no one else stood out.

  “I’m sorry. I thought being here would help me remember.”

  “You did fine.” Michael ushered her to the elevator on the opposite side of the room. This time when they took the elevator to the ground floor, it opened onto a stripped down hallway. Covered laundry carts sat against one wall. The smell of detergent drifted on moist warm air as they passed by a large room with dozens of industrial sized washers and dryers. At the end of the hallway they stopped in front of a large metal door. Michael pressed a buzzer and introduced himself. The door clicked open. He flashed his badge as they walked into a room full of monitors.

  “Wow,” Carolyn glanced up at Michael. “Big Brother in action.”

  “It’s impressive. Let’s hope we find something useful.”

  The security technician, Danny Cahill, brought up videos of the night in question. The screens went black. What should have been footage from all of the hallways, the stairs, the entry, the lobby and every entrance didn’t exist.

  Chapter Seven

  “I don’t understand it.” Dan stared at the blank screens. “This is state of the art equipment. Anything the cameras pick up comes into this terminal. We have people working in here around the clock. If there had been a malfunction, it would have been reported.”

  “But it wasn’t.” Michael pinched the bridge of his nose. “Unbelievable.”

  “I don’t know what to tell you. Might have been a glitch in the computer system.”

  “You’re thinking coincidence?” Michael asked. “I’m thinking sabotage. Find out who was on duty that night. I want the names of everyone and anyone who had access to this room.”

  “Of course.”

  Turning to Carolyn, Michael said. “It looks as though someone may have gotten to these tapes before we could. I’m sorry.”

  “Me too.” She pinched her lips together and looked like she was about to cry. “I thought maybe we’d see who gave me the drug or how I got into the hotel room.”

  “It looks like whoever did this had an elaborate plan in place. To the technician he said, “I’ll have the CSI computer techs come in. Maybe they can find whatever was erased. And maybe we’ll get lucky and get some prints.”

  Danny printed out the list of names and handed it to him.

  “Who was on duty Saturday night during the political campaign?” Michael asked.

  “Greg McNeil.” Danny pointed to one of the names. “He’s a good guy. About forty-five, wife and kids. Been here for about ten years and we’ve never had any trouble. I don’t see him making a mistake like this. And he sure wouldn’t erase the footage.”

  Michael circled the man’s name. “Thanks for your help.”

  With little to show for his efforts, Michael escorted Carolyn back up to the lobby. “Might as well make yourself comfortable while I call Doug and fill him in. We’ll need to send someone to pick up this McNeil guy.” Michael punched in the numbers and this time Doug answered.

  Carolyn felt too antsy to sit. Instead she wandered around the lobby, appreciating the ambiance and the ocean view. A bar and glass topped tables with bamboo chairs lured people in with its Polynesian decor and spectacular view. The enticing food smells drew her forward reminding her that she was hungry again. A slender woman dressed in heels and a snug Hawaiian print sarong stood next to a dais at the entrance and looked up when she saw Carolyn.

  “Are you joining us for lunch?” she asked.

  Before she could respond a voice behind her said, “Yes—two please” Michael came along side and grinned at her. “Okay?”

  “More than,” Carolyn returned the smile. The two followed the hostess to a table by the window.

  “Your waiter will be with you shortly.” The young woman’s gaze lingered on Carolyn. “Do I know you from somewhere?”

  Her stomach flip-flopped like a fish out of water. “I don’t think so.” She glanced across the table at Michael sending a silent
plea for something. She wasn’t certain what. The woman undoubtedly had seen her on the news. Carolyn prayed she wouldn’t connect the dots.

  “Happens all the time,” Michael gifted the hostess with a killer smile. “Carly is one of the hottest stars to hit the big screen this year. We’d appreciate it if you didn’t call attention to her.”

  Carly? Carolyn pressed her lips together to keep from laughing. She dug into the handbag for her sunglasses.

  “Oh, of course. Um—maybe I could get your autograph later.”

  “Sure.” Carolyn slipped the glasses on.

  As soon as she left, Carolyn glared at Michael. “Movie star?”

  “Just sign a napkin. She’ll be thrilled.”

  “Until she realizes I’m a fake.”

  “Relax. Let’s enjoy some lunch and we can talk about where you can stay until this blows over.”

  “Relaxing isn’t even in my vocabulary right now.” She sighed. “I just want to go home.”

  “Bad idea. Not only is the place swarming with reporters, there’s a real threat out there. In case you’ve forgotten, someone apparently set you up and is threatening to kill you.” He could only imagine what she must be feeling. She’d been drugged, accused of murder, threatened, forced out of her home and taken to a supposedly safe place. Now he’d put her in limbo again. Trouble was, he didn’t know what to do with her. He needed to figure out a way to keep her out of harm’s way.

  “Hiding isn’t the answer,” she said as if reading his mind.

  “Maybe not, but it’s the best we can offer at the moment.”

  Michael headed back across the lobby, but instead of going to the elevator he aimed for a beach access door. Their morning sun had faded behind a thick layer of battleship-gray clouds.

  Carolyn shivered as they stepped outside. “What are you doing? I thought we were going to your car.” She glanced his way, her blue eyes which now reflected the colorless sky impaled him as surely as a steel blade.

  “I thought we’d walk on the beach. I don’t know about you, but being near the ocean clears my head and helps me to think.” The temperature had dropped from sixty-eight into the mid-fifties. Not that unusual for the Oregon Coast. They had a lot of gray, wet, cold, windy days, which at times made Michael wish he’d taken the job offer in southern California. But no, he’d been lured in by the rugged mountains and hiking trails. Friends tried to warn him about the rain, but he hadn’t expected quite so much of it. He shrugged off his jacket and slipped it over her shoulders.