I could, and my heart went out to him.
“He had no idea Sam felt that way about him,” Duncan went on. “Though in retrospect he said there were signs he should have picked up on. He said Sam kept trying to convince him to break up with Holly, claiming she wasn’t good for him, that she stifled his inner artist or some such garbage.”
“I need to sit down,” I said, feeling my arms aching as I held myself up with my crutches. We made our way back to the bar, and I offered Duncan a drink.
“I’ll take you up on that offer, but let me make it myself,” he said. He went behind the bar and started pouring. “We went to Suzanne Collier’s place and found enough evidence to verify that she was behind the letters,” he said as he worked. “We found the paper, and the calligraphy tools and ink, and she even kept a diary of her clues that included the names of the people she used to deliver them, the dates and times, and pages upon pages of disturbing rants and trains of thought that make it clear she wasn’t right in the head. The shrink she was seeing said she was a classic sociopath and a narcissist, incapable of empathy. Her parents identified issues with her when she was very young and started her seeing shrinks when she was a little girl. Apparently, they made access to the family money conditional upon her ongoing cooperation. They thought she was doing fine. So did her shrink, for that matter.”
He had finished making his drink, one called Crazy Broad, which seemed doubly apropos given our topic of conversation, and the fact that it included ginger ale.
“I knew something was off with her,” I said. “Even her voice showed it. I had two different responses to it, and that’s never happened before.”
“Well, that makes sense in a way. Sociopaths are able to adopt personalities that suit their situations. You were probably picking up on the real Suzanne as well as whatever persona she was putting forth for you.”
“I think Clay knew more than he let on,” I said. “When I mentioned to him that I thought Suzanne had some serious mental health issues, he didn’t react or ask me any other questions about it. That’s so unlike him. It should have clued me in.”
“He probably wouldn’t have said anything anyway,” Duncan said. “My guess is he heard the rumors about her but had no real firsthand knowledge.”
“How on earth did Suzanne get hooked up with Sam?”
“He met her while doing his graduate work. He spent time doing clinicals for a shrink here in town, and it happened to be the same one Suzanne was seeing. In fact, he was allowed to oversee some of her sessions. They took a liking to one another—birds of a feather, I suspect, because one of the shrinks I talked to said Sam displays sociopathic behaviors too. Suzanne invited him to come to her house for some of the sessions, an effort to avoid the paparazzi, and the two of them started talking about their mutual dissatisfactions in life, including the inattention they were getting from their respective love interests and, in Sam’s case, his financial woes.”
“Financial woes?”
Duncan nodded. He came around and slid onto the barstool beside me before continuing. “Sam was paying for his education on his own. His parents don’t have much money, and his father suffers from some mental disorders that caused him to lose jobs and get committed a time or two. The family finances suffered as a result. Sam was pretty broke when he started counseling Suzanne, and she offered to help him out with an under-the-table scholarship of sorts. In return, he had to do some things for her, one of which was falsify her medical record about their sessions.
“When Sam followed Carter to your Capone Club group, Sam and Suzanne started plotting out how to commit the perfect crime. They came up with a ‘strangers on a train’ plan wherein each of them had to kill someone, both to provide them with some security and trust in one another, and to confuse the authorities. The plan to involve you and start writing the letters came about as a result of the two of them trying to find a way to kill two birds with one stone—pardon the pun—and not only prove their superior intellect, but provide a means of getting more attention from their love interests. Suzanne hoped the killings would scare Tad into staying away from the bar—based on what she had written in her diary, she was jealous of you and fearful that Tad had a crush on you—and Sam hoped to give Carter a best-selling true-crime novel to write, one Sam could later take credit for to prove how devoted he was.”
“Why were you excluded from helping me?”
“According to Sam, you were the crux of the story, you and your abilities. That’s what he was convinced would sell. Assistance from the cops would have weakened that, and in his mind, it would have also weakened the story. He knew he couldn’t do much to keep the cops who were part of the club from participating, but he felt that excluding them from the letter project would be easy enough.”
“I’m surprised Suzanne went along with it if she was jealous of me. Having you around would have reassured her, I would think.”
“You’re right. And she did, in fact, argue the point with Sam, according to him. But he was insistent on no police being involved, and when you hooked up with Mal, Suzanne seemed to be satisfied that you had an alternative love interest.”
There was a period of silence while we both digested the many ironies of this. After a sip or two, I asked Duncan, “So, did Sam kill Lewis?”
Duncan nodded. “And he said Suzanne did kill Gary. The rest of it was a joint effort. Suzanne collected a lot of the clues and identified the people who were targeted to deliver them to you. And she put up the money that motivated those people, of course. But she had Sam drop off the letters to the deliverers. He also advised her on how to make sure there was no forensic evidence that would lead back to either of them.”
“So all this time, while Sam was part of the Capone Club, we were teaching him how to do what he and Suzanne did in a way that would let them get away with it,” I said, shaking my head.
“Ironic, eh?” Duncan said, and we both took a drink.
“Sam advised Suzanne on the wording in the letters,” Duncan went on, “doing it in a way that he thought would wreak psychological havoc on you, ramping up the threats and the terror for a bit, and then dialing it down a little before ramping it up again.”
“Well, he did a top-notch job of it,” I said. “The fact that he was part of this isn’t going to help my case with Holland when it comes time to work with him. He and Dixon were both resistant to including the Capone Club, and now they’ll be even more against it.”
“Maybe. Maybe not,” Duncan said.
I looked over at him with an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry I was so insistent on the topic of Jimmy. I really thought he was the one.”
“I get it,” Duncan said. “And for what it’s worth, he’s been suspended for the time being until they can look into his work for the Colliers and make sure he had nothing to do with this.”
“He won’t lose his job, will he?”
Duncan made an equivocal face. “Nah, assuming they clear him of the letter writer thing. He’ll get his hands slapped for the moonlighting, but he’ll keep his job.”
There was another period of contemplative silence while we both sipped our drinks. Then I broached a question that had been bugging me ever since the big revelation.
“Why did Sam think Carter might reciprocate his feelings for him? What was he referring to when he mentioned something in their past?”
Duncan coughed and wiped his mouth with his hand. “It seems there was this one night when the two of them were seniors in high school. They went to a party and got pretty wasted, drinking and smoking pot. At one point, they drove out to the lake and went skinny-dipping. It was an isolated spot they’d been to before, but this time when they came out of the water, they collapsed on the shore and then smoked some more weed. One thing led to another, and they indulged in a . . . shall we say . . . a mutual satisfaction session. No intercourse, but apparently they, um, helped one another reach their goal. It was hands only, according to Carter, and he was embarrassed about the wh
ole thing afterward and wanted to forget it had ever happened. But apparently it was enough to fuel Sam’s fire.”
“Wow,” I said, shaking my head. “Carter must be devastated.”
“He’s quite distraught over the whole thing, but I think he’ll be okay in the long run.”
“So what happened between Sam and Suzanne? Why did he push her down the stairs?”
“Apparently, you got Suzanne spooked when you started talking about evidence and perfume on a car armrest. She thought we had her, and she panicked. Sam overheard that part of your conversation with her and sensed that she was getting worried, so he went through the basement after Suzanne and Tad had disappeared into the new section. He came up the stairs and listened in on the two of them. He heard their argument, and when Suzanne came down from the Capone Club room by herself, he summoned her over to the stairs. We’ll never know for sure what happened, because we only have Sam’s version of things, but he said that Suzanne got upset with him and threatened to cut him off and turn him in. He said she taunted him, telling him how they’d never believe him over her, and even if she was arrested and tried, she had the money to hire the best lawyers in the country. Sam got pissed and shoved her. He claims he was only trying to scare her, not kill her. But I don’t believe that. There’s a side to Sam that he hid well from us, a very scary side.”
He had that right.
I drained the last of my drink and then turned to face him. “Can we talk about Courtney?”
Duncan cleared his throat and took a long tug on his drink before he answered. “Yeah, about that. I spoke to her earlier this morning and made it crystal clear to her that not only were we done as a couple, but if she continued to try to contact me, I’d take out a restraining order on her.”
“That seems clear,” I said, with a smile.
“Yeah, well, the restraining order was an empty threat, because she hasn’t done anything to justify it. No one would grant it to me at this point. But I’m counting on her not knowing that. I can’t promise you what she will do, but I can promise you what I will do. Unfortunately, she is friends with Whitney, and if she mentions my threat of the restraining order to her, Whitney is likely to tell her it’s an empty threat.” He paused and shrugged. “We’ll just have to wait and see what happens, I guess.”
“Well, thank you for talking to her,” I said. “And speaking of Whitney, when I spoke with Billy on the phone, to let him know the bar would be closed today, he informed me he has put things on hold with Whitney for now. That’s good news as far as I’m concerned. Whitney wasn’t the right match for him. But I suspect the wrath of Whitney and Courtney combined could be considerable. We may be in for some fireworks.”
“If we are, we are. We can handle it together.”
I liked the sound of that.
“Speaking of together, there’s no longer a need for you and Mal to pretend to be a couple. But given that we don’t want anyone to know what he really does for a living, the two of you might need to stage a breakup. Assuming that’s what you want, that is.”
Was it? My feelings for Mal ran deep, but my feelings for Duncan ran deeper.
“I adore Mal,” I told him. “But my feelings for him are more brotherly than romantic. I don’t want to hurt him, but I don’t know that I can avoid that. Besides, he’s going to be around for a while yet building my elevator.”
“He really cares about you,” Duncan said, a hint of worry in his voice.
“I know he does. And I care for him. Just not in the same way I care for you.” I gave him a warm, hopeful smile.
“That’s a good thing, I think. Given your new working relationship with Holland and Dixon, you and I are going to be spending a lot of time together.” He winked at me, and then he leaned over and kissed me. It was a very nice kiss that sparked all sorts of synesthetic reactions.
When we finally pulled apart, I said, “I guess I’m going to have to let Mal down easy. And keep it amicable. Otherwise I’ll end up with an unfinished construction project in my cellar.”
Duncan downed the last of his drink, set his glass on the bar, and slid off his stool. Then he extended a hand to me. “Any chance we can continue this conversation upstairs in your apartment?” There was a deliciously wicked gleam in his eye.
“Can do,” I said, grabbing my crutches.
And as we headed upstairs, I felt good about the future for the first time in a long while, confident that the coming year would be a happy one.
Look for the next Mack’s Bar Mystery
in August 2018!
Now, turn the page
for some enjoyable drinks recipes
from Mack’s Bar!
Recipes
Bloody Bubbles
1½ ounces silver tequila
5 ounces pineapple juice, chilled
½ ounce simple syrup
3 ounces champagne, chilled
½ ounce grenadine
Mix tequila, pineapple juice, and simple syrup together in a tall glass. Stir and add the champagne. Top off with grenadine.
Sweet Revenge
½ ounce lime juice or ½ lime
flavored sugar (optional)
1 strawberry (plus one for a garnish if desired)
¼ ounce simple syrup
2 ounces Sweet Revenge Wild Strawberry Sour
Mash Whiskey
3 ounces dry champagne, chilled
If desired, wet the rim of a tall glass with lime juice and then dip in flavored or plain sugar. Muddle one strawberry and the lime juice or lime in the bottom of a shaker along with the simple syrup. Then add ice and the Sweet Revenge whiskey. Shake and strain into a tall glass. Add champagne. Garnish with a strawberry on the side of the glass if desired.
Super Mimosa
1 ounce of vodka
1½ ounces of Red Bull
1½ ounces of orange juice
3 ounces of dry champagne, chilled
Pour vodka, Red Bull, and orange juice into a shaker filled with ice. Shake and strain into a tall glass. Add champagne. Stir gently.
Chocolate Jootsie Roll Pop (with a cherry option)
1½ ounces light rum
1½ ounces coffee liqueur
1½ ounces Amaretto
3 ounces of cola
½ ounce cherry liqueur (optional)
Pour rum, coffee liqueur, and Amaretto in a tall glass filled with ice, add cola, and stir. For a cherry Tootsie Roll Pop flavor, add the cherry liqueur and stir to mix.
Root of All Evil
1 ounce scotch whiskey
½ ounce of light rum
½ ounce of gold tequila
3 ounces root beer
Pour all ingredients into a highball glass with ice. Stir and enjoy.
A Toast to Murder Page 28
