by Lauren Carr
Slowly, careful to keep one eye on the road, David turned his head to look over his shoulder at Mac.
“Considering that he was at the Dockside Café this morning,” Mac said, “where two men were murdered with poisoned cream, I find that very interesting. Don’t you?”
David pressed his foot down on the gas pedal.
To have your spouse murdered is hard enough. Homicide detectives understand that. However, they must also face the reality that, in many cases, it is the spouse who has committed or commissioned the murder.
When Mac looked through the two-way mirror at Nora Crump, looking like a wrung-out rag in the interrogation room, he thought of how many times he had questioned the wife of a murder victim. Most of the time, he felt like a heartless monster for suspecting someone who had lost the love of her life to violence. The only thing that alleviated his guilt was the thought of how many times the wife ended up being the very one behind her husband’s death.
With the case file that he had put together since the murder four hours before, David threw open the door. “If you want to be in on this case, you might as well be in on the fun.”
Mac followed David out into the hallway and then over to the next door to go into the interrogation room.
Nora looked up from where she was staring down at her hands on the table. There was no recognition in her red, swollen eyes when she saw Mac come in, or when David introduced him as the squad’s homicide detective. Mac surmised that she didn’t notice him that morning when she hurried past him and Gnarly on her way into the Dockside Café.
David sat down in the chair across from her.
“I’m sorry for your loss, Mrs. Crump.” Choosing not to remind her of their brief meeting, Mac took the seat at the end of the table.
The police chief began by opening the file. “Mrs. Crump—”
“Don’t call me that please.”
David jerked his head up from the case file. “Excuse me?”
“Don’t call me Mrs. Crump. I hate that name.”
“What do you want me to call you?”
“Nora,” she answered.
David and Mac exchanged puzzled expressions. Sharing the same O’Callaghan eyes, their furrowed brows held an identical appearance with the left brow arched in question.
“Okay,” David finally said to her. “Nora, we have a problem.”
“Is all this about my sending you after that car and it not being the killer?”
“Partly,” David replied.
“I told you—my husband was just shot right in front of me.” She touched a blood stain on her shirt. “I have his blood on me. He took his last breath in my arms. The last thing I noticed was where the man who shot him ran off to.”
“Actually,” Mac cleared his throat, “most people, when someone is right in front of them shooting down people, won’t ever take their eyes off of the guy with the gun, if only to ensure that they don’t get shot next.”
Nora gazed at him. “I was in shock,” she said. “I don’t remember everything that happened.”
“Like that you were standing right next to your husband when he was shot?” Mac asked.
“I was.”
“We have witnesses who said you were several feet away,” Mac said, “and that the killer walked right past you to go up to your husband and shoot him.”
The fright in Nora’s eyes transformed into anger. “Was someone you loved ever killed right in front of you?”
“Yes,” Mac replied to her stunned dismay, “and I remember vividly every move, every sound, every instant. Because when it happened, everything went into slow motion, and I replayed it over and over and over again until it was seared into my memory. So don’t give me that bull about you not remembering.”
Her voice was cold. “Not everybody is the same. So I’m different from you. When I face trauma, I block it out.”
“Why did you leave the restaurant?” Mac threw her off-balance by asking.
“Same reason anyone leaves a restaurant,” she replied. “I was done eating.”
“The server said that you suddenly got into such a big hurry to leave,” Mac said, “that your husband left his credit card behind because he had to run to keep up with you.”
Nora’s eyes glazed over with deep thought.
“I thought this was a pleasure trip,” David said, “a nice, pleasant dinner date with your husband. Why would you suddenly need to leave?”
She opened her mouth. Nothing came out. She swallowed.
“Now is the time to tell us everything,” Mac said.
“But I don’t know everything,” she said in a low voice. “That man in black—he was wearing a hood up over his head—he shot my husband. I know people saw him do it.”
“Who was he?” Mac asked.
“He worked for Tommy Cruze,” she said.
“Who happens to be dead,” David said.
“What?” Covering her mouth with her hands, she gasped.
“Tommy Cruze was at the café across the street from the hotel where you and your husband are staying,” David explained. “Witnesses saw you and your husband there this—yesterday—morning. Shortly after you left—”
“Abruptly,” Mac interjected, “much like you did last evening.”
“Tommy Cruze and his body guard dropped dead,” David said. “They were poisoned.”
“But the man who shot Gordon said he worked for Tommy Cruze,” she said. “‘This is for Tommy Cruze.’ I heard him say that.”
Mac looked from her to David, who was looking back at him.
“Maybe…” she started.
“What?” David urged her to continue.
“I guess it’s possible,” she said in a low voice. “I guess it makes sense.”
“What makes sense?” Mac asked.
She moved her chair in closer to the table. Placing her hands on the table top, she leaned in to explain, “Gordon inherited a very successful kitchen and bath supply company. His father was real smart. They had three stores when he passed. But then Gordon…” her voice trailed off. “My husband had issues.”
“What type of issues?” Mac was unable to keep the suspicion out of his tone.
“Gordon lacked his father’s charisma. Most everyone did business with him because they loved the guy. He was everyone’s friend. Gordon was…” She sighed. “It didn’t take long for all of the business’s regular customers to go elsewhere. Two out of the three stores were closed within two years. We were clinging to the last store by a thread. I wouldn’t be surprised if Gordon did something stupid.”
“Like what?” Mac asked.
“Make a deal with the devil,” she said. “I have no idea what this Tommy Cruze was into, but I do know Gordon was getting threats. He owed someone a lot of money, and if he didn’t pay up…I only found out by accident. Gordon claimed not to be afraid, but I was.” She nodded at Mac. “Yes, I did leave suddenly last night because I felt like someone was watching us. It felt like—I got so scared that I couldn’t take it any longer—us sitting there in a public restaurant in the open like that—so I told Gordon that we had to go. I wanted us to get back to the hotel and lock the door.”
“What happened at the Dockside Café?” David asked her.
“I had no idea what this Tommy Cruze looked like,” she said. “We were sitting there in the café. Gordon had taken some containers of cream out of his pocket.” She demonstrated taking something out of her pocket. “I had no idea that he had them. I asked him what he was doing with cream in his pocket. He told me to shut up. He put them in the bowl. He told me that we had to go. I wanted to stay, but he said it was time to go. So we got up and left—and left that bowl with the cream that he had put in it on the table.” She sucked in a shuddering breath. “I guess Gordon thought his
problem would be gone if he got rid of Tommy Cruze, but he was wrong.”
She looked down at her hands, folded on top of the table. “Even though he was dead, Tommy Cruze still killed him.” She choked. “Just like Gordon’s dumb luck.”
Chapter Eighteen
Archie and Bogie were sitting on the front porch steps in the dark when David’s cruiser pulled around the circular driveway and parked.
“We were starting to get worried about you when you didn’t come home with Randi.” Archie kissed Mac and wrapped her arms around his neck when he stepped out.
“I hear I’ve been missing all the excitement while babysitting.” Bogie opened the door to let Gnarly out. “Even the dog is getting more action than me.”
“We’ll be getting you back out there soon enough.” David noticed Randi saunter out onto the porch. She had her bathrobe wrapped around her. “The feds wiped out what appeared to be Bonito’s closest men up on the mountain. They’re moving in on him. He’s going to be wiped out soon enough.”
Wagging his tail at Sari who was pressed up against the window inside the living room, Gnarly was standing up with his front paws on the sill.
Mac opened the door in time for Leah to come flying down the stairs to intercept Sari and sweep her up into her arms before Gnarly was able to give the girl a big, wet kiss on the face. “Sari, what are you doing up?”
Startled by Leah’s lunge between him and Sari, Gnarly snarled and snapped at the woman.
“Did you see that?” Leah turned around to Mac while clutching the girl in both of her arms. “He was going to bite Sari.”
“No, he wasn’t,” Mac said. “You jumped in between them and scared him.”
“Is that blood he has on his face?” She hurried over to Randi who stepped in with Archie, Bogie, and David. “I don’t want to stay here any longer.”
“Why?” Randi asked. “You’re safest here until we can get your new identity set up.”
“That dog is dangerous.” Leah pointed at Gnarly, who was wiping his face on the afghan draped over his loveseat. “He tried to bite Sari. I don’t feel safe here. I want to leave now.”
“Most likely Gnarly tried to kiss her,” Bogie chuckled. “He loves children.”
Randi responded to Leah’s shocked expression. “I know how terrified you are of dogs, but Gnarly isn’t like other dogs. I’ve seen it myself. Sari is completely safe with him.”
Gnarly’s grunting drew their attention to the loveseat where the dog was sprawled on his back, his hind legs spread apart to expose him in his full glory, while twisting and scratching an itch between his shoulder blades. Abruptly, he rolled over onto his stomach and let out a series of barks as if to announce that he felt much better.
“Either that dog gets locked up someplace, or we leave.” Leah whirled around and raced up the stairs. At the top of the stairs, Sari tossed her collie dog over the bannister without her mother noticing. Like a secret admirer seeing a rose tossed to him from the balcony, Gnarly leapt from the loveseat to catch the toy in his teeth and ran down the stairs to his hiding spot behind the sofa in the study.
“I really don’t like that woman,” Archie said. “Sari so wants to be friends with Gnarly, and Gnarly likes her, too.”
Randi Finnegan said, “It’s my job to keep her not just safe, but also comfortable, considering all that she’s given up to help us. If she’s afraid here with Gnarly, then I should move her.”
It was exactly as Leah had called it. She had the US Marshal at her beck and call for snitching on her ex-husband. Her blood boiling, Archie clenched her teeth while exchanging a quick glance with Bogie, who sighed heavily while running his fingers over his mustache.
“I’ll make arrangements for the three of you to stay in a suite at the Spencer Inn,” Mac said to Randi. “Between security and David’s department, you’ll all be safe there.”
“We’ll go first thing in the morning.” Randi’s eyes fell on David’s.
They met for a short moment before David turned away. “I’ll go call my people.”
Randi Finnegan believed in traveling light. You never know with witnesses in the program when you’re suddenly going to have to be on the move. In fact, there had been more than one time when she was forced to move with only the clothes on her back. With the chief of the police down the hall, the deputy chief sleeping on the sofa in the living room, and eight armed guards, four police officers and four trained private security guards patrolling outside, she felt reasonably safe.
That was not to mention the German shepherd who also seemed to be on watch roaming from one bedroom to the next, except for Sari’s room. Leah had closed and locked the door after Randi assured her that they would be moving the very next morning.
Randi was packing her clothes for the move to the Spencer Inn when there was a knock at her door. Assuming that Gnarly wasn’t smart enough to knock, she tucked her handgun into the pocket of her robe and opened the door a crack to find David O’Callaghan on the other side. He was clad in his bathrobe and lounging pants. Through the opening of his robe, she saw that his chest was bare. He was cradling two brandy snifters in one hand.
“Peace offering,” he said.
Without a word, she opened the door and gestured for him to come inside. Silently, he held out one of the snifters to her. She took it and closed the bedroom door.
When their eyes met, he raised his glass in a toast. “I’m sorry for making light of what happened tonight. I work with men so much that I can forget how to be a gentleman.”
“I’m not asking for special treatment—only a little sensitivity would be nice.”
He clicked his snifter against hers. “To sensitivity.”
“To sensitivity.” Eying him over her glass as she sipped the smooth cognac, she noted how blue his eyes were.
After partaking of the cognac, David wet his lips before saying, “I have a confession to make.”
“You want to finish what we started last night,” she replied.
He laughed. “That wasn’t what was I going to confess.”
Her cheeks felt warm.
“Though—” he pointed at her, “don’t let me forget that we do want to talk about that.” He sat down on the edge of her bed. “About tonight, when you froze—”
“I didn’t freeze.”
“Yes, you did.
“If you had given me a chance—”
“You had icicles hanging from your nose you froze so bad,” David countered.
Now her face felt hot. He was right, and she hated him for seeing and knowing that he was right. As good as he looked to her sitting on the edge of her bed in his bathrobe, with his chiseled chest so close she could reach out and touch it—touch him—and feel the heat of his flesh on her hand; she wanted him gone, and the truth about him having saved her life along with it.
“I’ve been there,” he said in a quiet voice.
“Been where?” she whispered back.
“I froze,” he said. “I had been in Iraq and Afghanistan. I had command of fifty-five men under me. Yet, with all that—a couple of years ago, in Washington, DC, of all places, I came face to face with a twelve-year-old boy pointing a Beretta into my face and laughing as he was about to pull the trigger.” David paused to take a sip of his cognac. Closing his eyes, he sighed. “All I could think about was that he was some mother’s son. I couldn’t move… Mac saved me… He shot that boy in the back…killed him. It was him or me. Just like tonight. It was him or you.”
She sat down on the bed next to him. “Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it. We’ll never talk about it again.” David gazed into her eyes.
She felt as if he were examining her inner being.
“I’m not going to tell anyone about what happened,” he said, “and I promise not to tease you about
it anymore.”
“I’d like that.”
“I thought you would.” He caressed her cheek. “Do you want to talk about that other thing you wanted to talk about?” He moved in closer to bring his lips towards hers.
“Not really,” she replied. “I think we’ve talked about it enough.”
“Same here.” He covered her mouth with his.
The deputy chief was sprawled out on the sofa. He was covered with a multi-colored afghan that Robin Spencer had received as a gift from a fan in Arizona. His mouth hanging open, Bogie snored loudly.
Gnarly led Sari across the floor, careful not to make a sound as they made their way to the hallway and the stairs down to the ground floor where the home theater contained an assortment of treasures that he had stashed behind the last row of seats. There was also a big box of popcorn and a microwave in which to pop it.
His secret friend opened the door. Her mouth dropped open when she saw the size of the movie screen.
Gnarly placed his front paws on the counter and stretched his neck to knock over the box of popcorn. Grabbing it up into his mouth, he carried it over to Sari and nudged her until he tore her attention from the movie screen.
Effortlessly, she interpreted his message. Taking a bag from the box, she went over to the microwave. While she popped the popcorn, Gnarly went over to the control center and picked up the remote in his mouth.
It took three minutes to pop the popcorn. Within five minutes, the secret friends were stretched out on the floor. Gnarly had the stuffed dog between his front paws, and Sari clutched the rubber duck in one hand. Between them, they shared a bowl of popcorn while watching an old Benji movie.
Chapter Nineteen
“I don’t like Leah.”
“You don’t like anyone who doesn’t like Gnarly.” Mac came out of the bathroom to find Archie in his bed—wearing the top to the pajamas of which he was wearing the bottoms. Thinking about how much better she looked in it than him, he turned off the light and crossed the room to climb into bed next to her.
