Detective Flint Box Set: A Detective Story Box Set Books 1-3

by Nancy McGovern

  “Yes?”

  “Have you ever lost a case?” Haley asked in a calm voice.

  Flint rubbed the back of his neck. Exhaustion was kicking at his mind. “Years back, when I was a rookie, I thought I was a pretty smart cookie. I was on a case, a simple case where a drug dealer took a bullet... a real open and close. But I goofed up. I won't go into details, but I almost cost a cop his life and the killer got away. From that day forward I swore to myself that I would always use enough brains to never let a killer escape from me again.”

  “Thanks,” Haley said. “I think I'm ready to sleep now.”

  Tori walked Flint to the bedroom door. “Get some sleep, okay?” she said. “You're exhausted and your eyes are bloodshot.”

  “You don't look a garden of roses yourself, Arnold,” Flint said. “Listen, we're on our own, okay, So keep your gun at the ready. I want to lure the killer back into the house, but he may not fall for it. We're going to sit tight for now and see what information Melinda and the Chief comes up with.”

  “I understand,” Tori said. “I've got your back, partner.”

  “I know you do.” Flint smiled and left the bedroom. Out in the hallway, he patted Matt on the shoulder. “When this is all over, I'm going to set you up on a date with Tori.”

  Matt blushed. “She thinks I'm a goofball.”

  “Hey,” Flint said, walking down the hallway, “goofballs are just her type.”

  Downstairs, Flint crashed on the living sofa. Listening to the heavy rain falling outside, he slowly closed his eyes. “Okay, Flint, let's think,” he whispered.

  Outside, hidden in the canyons, a shadowy figure lurked, ready to pounce.

  *****

  Chapter 6

  More Rain

  Flint stared at Chief Cunningham through sleepy eyes. “The coroner is sure?” he asked, walking to the kitchen sink. After turning on the cold water faucet, he cupped his hands, filled them with water, and then brought the water up to his face.

  “Doc is on vacation. But his assistant is pretty sure, yeah,” Chief Cunningham said in a tired voice. “Chef Rogers was poisoned. The poison was in his cigarettes.”

  Flint turned off the cold water faucet. “What type of poison are we talking about?”

  Chief Cunningham yawned. “From what I understand, the poison is a substance that invades the heart and slowly begins to narrow the arteries. Think of a man eating a thousand greasy cheeseburgers at once. The poison has no official name. Doc's assistant said the poison appears to be a homemade concoction.”

  “The killer understands chemistry,” Flint said. “First the arsenic, and now this poison. We're not dealing with a stupid person.”

  Chief Cunningham watched Flint frown. “Flint, you can catch this guy. Get that look off your face, do you hear me? I want your mind sharp and thinking, are we clear?”

  “Yeah, Chief, we're clear,” Flint answered in a heavy voice. “I'm just worried that Mandy Garland was cut out of the script because the killer marked her as his fall guy... woman. I wouldn't be surprised if we found a confession note in her house.”

  “Mandy Garland's lawyer has our hands tied at the moment, Flint. We can't get near the woman's house,” Chief Cunningham explained. “The house Mandy Garland lived in was leased to her by Mr. Mayfield. He's not permitting anyone to enter the house, and he's having Mandy Garland's lawyer let our scumbag DA know that Mr. Mayfield is pulling the punches.”

  “I wonder why?” Flint asked. Shaking his head, he walked to the kitchen door, peered out into the heavy falling rain, and then focused his attention on the coffee pot. After pouting himself a cup of coffee, Flint slowly paced around the kitchen. “Ten bucks says we'll find a computer printed confession note with a forged signature on it in Mandy Garland's house... assuming we ever get into the house. Chief, I'm beginning to wonder just how Mayfield is tied into this case.”

  Hearing the telephone hanging beside the refrigerator ring, Chief Cunningham nodded his head at Flint. “That should be Melinda. Why don't you answer it.”

  Flint put down his cup of coffee and took the call. “Yeah. Melinda, what do you have?”

  “Puffy eyes from working twenty-four hours straight,” Melinda said. “But my efforts have paid off. Flint, grab a pencil and some paper and get ready to do some writing.”

  “I have a photographic memory,” Flint assured her. “Start firing some bullets, sister.”

  “Mandy Garland is related to Glenda Frost. Flint, the two are sisters.” Sitting at her desk back at the station, Melinda reached for a cup of hot tea. “Now, here is where the roads take some sharp curves. Are you ready?”

  Flint grinned. “I'm ready to take you out for two dinners. Fire away.”

  “Get your wallet out, Flint, because I'm taking you up on your offer.” Melinda smiled and took a sip of her tea. “Flint, Glenda Frost had a son when she was twenty-five years old. The father... drum roll please... is unknown.”

  “Unknown?” Flint frowned.

  “Sorry, Flint. Birth records do not mention a father, but, Flint, you can take two guesses who the father should be.”

  “I sure can,” Flint said, gnawing on his low lip. “Okay, keep going.”

  “Glenda Frost,” Melinda continued, “had several plastic surgeries performed on her by a Dr. Malson before she relocated to New York from Los Angeles. Flint, if you saw the before and after photos, you wouldn't know you were looking at the same woman. It's amazing.”

  Flint grabbed his cup of coffee. “Hit me a few more ground balls, Melinda.”

  “Well,” Melinda sighed, “here's the sad part. The child Glenda Frost gave birth to died two years later from medical complications. Soon after, the woman began having her face altered. “

  “I see,” Flint said, and closed his eyes. Painfully, he asked, “Melinda, do you know who paid for all of this... I mean, the surgeries... maybe even the burial of the baby? I'm assuming she wasn't working if she was having all of those facial surgeries done.”

  “You are very right,” Melinda said. “Glenda Frost receives money from a Trust each month, Flint. Mandy Garland also was receiving money from the same Trust.”

  “Mayfield?” Flint asked.

  “Right you are,” Melinda confirmed. “Mr. Mayfield is the biological father of Glenda Frost and Mandy Garland.”

  “I see,” Flint replied, opening his eyes. “I thought that might be the case... in this case... pardon the pun.”

  “I'm too sleepy to care about bad puns,” Melinda said. “Now, before I go, I have one last interesting tidbit of information for you. But, Flint, this last bit of information is going to really cost you. I want you to take me to a new French restaurant that opened up a couple of weeks ago.”

  “Hey, wait, you're talking about some money,” Flint objected.

  “Yes, I am,” Melinda told Flint in a stern voice. “And I expect you to wear a suit and a tie, mister.”

  Flint groaned miserably. “The things I do to solve a case... okay, hit me.”

  Melinda leaned back in her desk chair. “Glenda Frost adopted a son at the age of thirty. The woman is in her mid-fifties right now, making her child... a son... about twenty-five years old.”

  “Name,” Flint demanded.

  “Wait a minute,” Melinda said. “Put some brakes on your legs, pal. You might want to know that Glenda Frost did not raise her son. Mr. Mayfield raised Glenda's Frost son.”

  “Bingo,” Flint said. “Okay, now can I have a name?”

  “Wait a second,” Melinda continued to push Flint up against a brick wall, “you might also want to know that Glenda's Frost son went to college and majored in—”

  “Chemistry,” Flint finished for Melinda.

  “Yes, but how did you know?”

  “Name, Melinda. Give me a name.”

  “Gavin Mayfield,” Melinda said. “Flint, I can't locate this guy. I've searched high and low for him, but I can't locate him. Ever since last year, he's vanished from the public eye. No bank r
ecords, no medical records, no tax returns, no parking tickets, no electric bill, phone bill, cable bill, nothing.”

  “I'm sure Gavin Mayfield has been around,” Flint said. “Listen, have Stan go through the security cameras. Have him roll through the night I brought Chef Rogers and Mandy Garland in for questioning. Let's see if we can get Gavin Mayfield on camera. Also, I need a face, Melinda. Send me over a photo.”

  “Well,” Melinda hesitated, “that's where we kinda hit a snag, Flint. You see, I can't locate a photo. Gavin Mayfield's college identification photo has been erased from the database. I checked DMV records and came up empty handed. All I have is a social security number.”

  “What about job history?” Flint snapped.

  “Nothing,” Melinda told Flint, growing frustrated. “Listen, Flint, I've been working my fingers to the bone for you, so back off, huh? You're one step closer to solving this case than you were a few minutes ago, you jerk.”

  “Okay, okay, sorry,” Flint said. “Listen, go get some sleep. You're amazing, and you know I'm grateful. We're both a little grumpy, but we'll both feel better once we get some sleep and I take you out for dinner.”

  “I guess,” Melinda agreed. Sighing, she closed her eyes. “Flint, there's one more item of business that you need to know.”

  “I'm all ears.”

  “Mr. Frost has been paying his wife a great deal of money. I checked his bank records.”

  “Blackmail money,” Flint replied in a calm voice. “Okay, Melinda, stroll off into dreamland for a while. I'll see to it that you get a raise.”

  “You know I'll never get a raise,” Melinda said. “Watch your back, tiger, and tell Tori to watch her back, too.”

  “I will,” Flint promised. Hanging up the phone he turned to Chief Cunningham. “I need to get into the studio,” he said in a serious voice. “Glenda Frost and her son are hiding out there. That's why Mayfield had the studio emptied out.”

  Chief Cunningham shrugged. “Flint, my hands are tied. Right now there isn't a judge in Los Angeles that's going to bump shoulders with Mayfield. After last night... after the second murder on his property... Mayfield is steaming. And by the way, the security guard that let you in has been fired and a new security company is being brought in. Mayfield is locking down his studio, and there is nothing we can do about it.”

  Flint poured out his cup of coffee and slammed down the coffee cup. “Last night I thought I'd play it smart by trying to bait the killer into coming back into the house, but I was wrong, Chief. You know department rules... the city isn't going to pay Arnold and me to sit around this house and just wait. Sooner or later you'll be forced to reassign us to a different case. The killer... this Gavin Mayfield... he'll just wait us out. Chief, I gotta go to him.”

  “Within the law,” Chief Cunningham said. “Listen to me, if you get caught trespassing on private property, both our butts will be thrown out onto the street. Flint, I know you can solve this case, but within the perimeters of the law, okay?”

  “Good grief,” Flint said. “I know who the killer is, where he's hiding, and I can't go after him because of all the stupid red tape?”

  Chief Cunningham walked up to Flint and put a hand on his shoulder. “Use your brains, Flint. Think of a way to get this guy. But do it within the borders of the law you and I took an oath of upholding, All right?”

  Flint let his head sag. “Might as well punch me in the gut, Chief, but yeah, okay, within the borders of the law you and I took an oath to uphold.”

  “I'm going home to catch a few hours sleep and then I'll return back to my office. You can reach me there later today.” Chief Cunningham patted Flint on the shoulder and left.

  Hearing movement, Flint spun around.

  Matt was grinning at him. “Flint, I'm not a cop. I can break onto private property.”

  Flint grinned back. “Remind me to come to the wedding,” he told Matt.

  “Nah,” Matt said, “Tori would never marry me. But, she did agree to have dinner with me after you solve this case.”

  “Way to go,” Flint said. Getting serious, he put his mind to work. “Okay, Matt, we gotta make a plan. The killer is very smart and extremely deadly. I'm not going to promise that you and Dave aren't going to be in any danger.”

  “Hey,” Matt said in a tough voice, “danger is our middle name, Flint. My brother and I have faced off with the worst humanity have to offer. Before we started guarding the stars, if that's what you want to call them, Dave and I worked as bouncers. Flint, let me tell you, man, we handled some pretty rough customers.”

  Flint stared at him. “Matt, the killer we're up against isn't fighting with muscle, he's fighting with his brains. Understand?”

  “I get it,” Matt said. Flint wasn't so sure.

  Flint began to speak, but suddenly a hard fist banged on the back door. Swinging around, Flint popped out his gun and dropped down onto one knee. Aiming his gun at the back door, he nodded his head at Matt. “Slowly,” he warned Matt.

  Matt pressed his back up against the kitchen wall. On silent legs, he eased around the wall until he reached the kitchen door. Hearing someone hit the back door again, he looked at Flint. Flint nodded. Matt drew in a slow breath, reached out his hand, unlocked the back door, and then slowly pulled the door open.

  A woman wearing a black rain coat ran into the kitchen. “Help me,” she begged.

  Spotting a shadow appearing out in the rain, Flint aimed his gun over the woman's shoulder and fired off three shots. The woman screamed. Dropping to her knees, she covered her head with a pair of shaky hands. “He's out there!” Flint yelled at Matt.

  Matt drew out his gun. “I'm on it!”

  “No,” Flint yelled, “stay inside. Close the back door!”

  Matt didn't argue. Using his right leg, he kicked the back door shut and locked it. “Secure!”

  Flint stood up. “If we go outside he'll kill the both of us. The outside is his turf, Matt. We have to stay inside,” he said. Shaking his head, he walked over to the woman. “Glenda Frost?”

  A woman with short, stylish, black hair and a face of strange beauty looked up at Flint. A small stream of blood was coming from her nose. “How did you know?” Glenda Frost asked in a terrified voice.

  Flint didn't immediately answer. Instead, he studied the face of the strange woman. The woman, he saw, held an alluring beauty that any man would become captive to. Yet, Flint saw a destructive anger in the woman's dark blue eyes that glowed with a deadly rage so violent that he almost had to look away. “Get to your feet,” he ordered Glenda.

  “He tried to kill me... my own son tried to kill me,” Glenda told Flint as tears began to pour from her eyes.

  “Nice try,” Flint said. Reaching down, he grabbed Glenda by the arm and pulled her up. “Turn around.”

  “What...why?”

  Flint put away his gun and yanked out a pair of handcuffs from his back pocket. “Turn around. You're under arrest. You have the right to remain silent, anything you say can and will be used you in a court of law...”

  Matt watched Flint slap the handcuffs on Glenda. Guarding the back door, he waited for instructions. A few seconds later Dave, Tori and Haley came running into the kitchen.

  “Glenda!” Haley yelled.

  “We heard gunfire,” Tori said.

  “Dave, get to the front door and stay there,” Flint ordered. “The killer is out there. Matt, you stay at the back door. Arnold, take Haley back to her bedroom and shoot at the first thing that moves outside of the bedroom window. Go, now!”

  Tori grabbed Haley's hand and rushed her back upstairs. Dave ran to the front door with his gun at the ready.

  “He's too smart,” Glenda warned Flint. “He knows the layout of this house and land... we both do.”

  “I figured that much,” Flint growled. “Where's Mayfield? He's involved in this.”

  “I assume he's still back at the studio,” Glenda said. “You have to believe me, my son has turned on all of us. The only
person he wants alive is that stupid little girl.”

  Matt watched Flint walk Glenda into the dining room. Left alone in the kitchen, he pressed his back against the kitchen wall. Feeling like a coward, he resisted the urge to rush outside and go head to head with the killer. But Flint's words stopped him. The killer knew the layout of the house and the land. If Matt went outside, the killer would chew him alive.

  Standing between the stairs and the front door with his gun at the ready, Dave slowly made small circles, studying every inch of the house that came into his view. Upstairs, Tori locked Haley in the bathroom. “It will be all right,” she promised Haley, closing the bathroom door. Nervous but focused, she turned her attention to the bedroom window. “I'm not going to make myself and easy target,” she said. Pulling the sitting chair into the middle of the bedroom, Tori knelt down behind the chair, aimed her gun at the window, and waited.

  Downstairs, Flint sat Glenda down at the dining room table. “You better start talking, sister,” he warned.

  Outside, Gavin Mayfield quickly slashed every tire on Flint's car and then vanished into the heavy falling rain. “When night falls, Haley, you will be mine,” he whispered, slithering back into the wet canyons.

  *****

  “I wanted him to suffer,” Glenda Frost hissed. “That man... used me... and when I told him that our child had died, he didn't even care! He had to suffer, and I was going to make him suffer!”

  “So you used Haley's uncle to get to her father?” Flint asked, sitting across from Glenda.

  Glenda nodded. “The rat didn't even recognize who I was,” she answered. “Oh, I played him very wisely. But first I played brother against brother. My goal was to ensure that once I destroyed that miserable rat, he would have no one to turn to for help.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” Flint said impatiently, “I've heard it all before, sister. The fact it, you are going to prison. Haley Frost had nothing to do with what happened between you and her father years ago. She's an innocent bystander, yet you and your son were going to kill her. That's a huge no-no.”