Murder and Matrimony

by Danielle Collins

  “Didn’t he wonder who the person was?”

  “Sid said that the man wanted to remain anonymous, hence the disguise, and that he was there to ensure his boss that Adam could be inducted into the next level of the ring.”

  Margot digested this information. So the masked man—invariably the same one who had been tormenting her—had been on the boat with Adam and then left with Sid after ensuring that Adam’s fingerprint evidence was everywhere.

  “Where did Adam say he went next?”

  “This is where things get…rocky.”

  She didn’t even want to ask what that meant. “What happened?” she asked, trying to look brave.

  “He said the three of them had drinks on the boat—”

  “A man wearing mask had drinks?”

  “Sorry, no. Sid and Adam had a drink. I know, I thought it sounded awkward too. But when Adam got off the boat, he said he felt tipsy, like he’d had more than one drink.”

  “He was drugged?”

  “He didn’t think that at first. Just went to a friend’s boat down at the marina.”

  “Ken Lasson?”

  Les looked surprised. “How’d you know?”

  “He was actually Julian’s friend and— It’s a long story, but we sometimes go down to the marina to visit him.”

  “Yes, well, in a stroke of bad luck, Ken wasn’t there, but Adam crashed on the boat anyway.”

  “Let me guess. No cameras caught him doing that, did they?”

  “None. He’s got no credible alibi.”

  “He had no idea what happened then.”

  “None.” Les shrugged. “It’s the perfect setup.”

  “There’s a hole. There has to be.” Margot knew that she sounded like she was trying to convince herself, and maybe she was. Either way, she wasn’t going to give up on Adam.

  “We’re trying our best,” he said, meeting Margot’s gaze with a steady one of his own.

  “I know you are. And thanks for talking with me.”

  He nodded, and she left the station, the warmth of the sun and the oppressive force of the humidity hitting her the minute she stepped out the front door. She felt desperate for any type of clue to something—or someone. At this point, she’d take anything.

  Sighing, she turned toward her car. Pulling her keys from her pocket, she gasped when she stepped around to the driver’s side. Her window had been smashed and a knife was driven into the headrest of the driver’s seat, a note dangling beneath its shiny, silver blade.

  Without moving anything, Margot reached out with a pen from her purse to pull the note up so she could read it. The moment the typed, bold font was readable, her blood ran cold.

  Give up, or you’ll end up like Sid.

  “Margot, I’m beginning to think you need to go on a vacation or something.” Danielle had her arm around Margot’s shoulder’s as the policemen assessed the crime scene that was her car window.

  “Not until I can do so for my honeymoon—with Adam.”

  “Oh, of course.” The woman gently squeezed Margot’s shoulders and then released her hold. Thankfully, she and Peter had been coming back from dinner and came upon Margot, still in shock, looking at her broken car window.

  Peter had jumped into action, but Margot’s mind had still reeled from the note she’d read. It was a clear threat against her, but from whom? And how did they know she was working on the case? Then again, that hadn’t stopped them from following her, trashing her house, and now breaking her car window.

  “I’m just not sure what they hoped to accomplish. Did whoever did this really think I’d just step back from the case and let it go? My fiancé is being falsely accused. I can’t just let that happen.” Her voice rose with each new statement and she felt flustered. Taking a deep, calming breath, she looked over at Danielle with an apologetic look. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be! You’ve got every right to be frustrated or frantic or whatever else you need to be!”

  “Thank you,” she said, letting out a laugh.

  “It looks like they’ll be at this for a while. Want to get something to eat? Or you can come over to our hotel room and we could watch something? Get our minds off of this for a while. We could even talk wedding stuff,” she added with a grin.

  “Actually, now that you mention it…” Margot searched the crowd of officers and found Peter. “I’m wondering if Peter can get me access to view something.”

  “It’s case related, isn’t it?”

  “Sorry,” was all Margot could manage.

  Danielle offered her a genuine smile. “It’s all right. I understand it—believe me.”

  Margot did, knowing some of Danielle’s slightly secretive past, which meant her understanding held even more weight.

  “Let’s go talk to him.”

  When Margot asked to see the footage of the three men at the marina, Peter agreed immediately then cringed. He explained that, if he could make it work, he would happily let her see it again. She mentioned that Chief Hartland usually had left the office by this time, which only made Peter’s grin widen.

  Twenty minutes later, Margot sat in front of a television screen ready to watch the footage she’d seen once before—the footage from the email and the extra she’d seen later. She hoped that she’d be able to see something different this time. Anything that might clue her in to who the mysterious man was.

  Peter walked back into the room after ensuring that no one was going to bother them in the viewing room. He had a grim look on his face and her heart leapt to one conclusion after another. Had the chief still been there? Did he know about her wanting to view the footage and denied Peter from showing her?

  “Margot, I have something I need to discuss with you before you view the footage.”

  Margot sighed. At least he wasn’t going to stop her from watching the tape again. “What is it?” she asked, turning her chair to face him.

  “Do you know why someone would be following you? Or why they would have left the note in your car the way they did?”

  She blinked. The incident had been frightening, but the thing that scared Margot more was Adam being framed for something he didn’t do. If that meant she ruffled a few feathers, then so be it. She told Peter as much and his expression only darkened.

  “Margot, it’s not like you can just ignore these threats.”

  “What would you have me do?” she asked incredulously. “Give in? Go hide in my house? The same house that someone trashed.”

  “I know that you aren’t afraid. I admire you for that, actually, but I do think you need to consider yourself in all of this.”

  “How so?”

  “Well, it’s obvious someone is going to great lengths to punish Adam for something he did. I would assume you are in the crosshairs because you are Adam’s fiancée. That Adam cares for you is apparent and the easiest way for anyone to hurt him—even more than he already is by being falsely accused—would be through you.”

  She nodded slowly. “I see what you mean.” She’d considered that the terrorizing of her home and the fire and now her car were all linked, but she had chalked it up to her seeking to uncover the truth about Sid’s death, not to punish Adam. It had been said that maybe it was to worsen Adam’s stress, but ‘to punish’ sounded worse. These were subtle differences, but they mattered. “It’s more personal,” she said, more to herself than to Peter.

  “Exactly, and those types of crimes are the most dangerous. People will stop at nothing.”

  “I realize that,” she said, meeting Peter’s gaze. “And I appreciate you looking out for me like this. I promise you I’m not doing anything foolish.” At least not any more foolish than she’d done in the past. “But I can’t just walk away from finding the truth, especially if it could mean freeing Adam. My safety is nothing if Adam is locked up for a crime he didn’t commit.”

  Peter looked as if he wanted to disagree with her but finally nodded and looked toward the bank of screens.

  “Then I s
uppose we should get to work.”

  Peter joined her as she watched the footage go back and forth, leaning forward in her seat. Her neck would no doubt hurt in the morning, but she didn’t care. She was looking for anything that might give her a hint as to the identity of the man wearing the trench coat. Even the smallest of clues that whoever had reviewed the files might have missed.

  From her slightly foggy—or, in her case, smoky—memory, he looked to be the same height and build as the man she’d seen outside of their wedding venue. Then again, many men could fit that description. And there was nothing particularly distinguishing about the hat or the trench coat to make it stand out. How could she compare them?

  She leaned back in her chair. “Is this all the footage from the harbor?”

  “Yes,” Peter said then frowned. “At least, I think so.” He turned to the nearest computer and ran a search. “Okay, actually, there’s more of the same. It’s just a different angle.”

  “Could I see that?” she said, hopeful that it could uncover something she hadn’t seen on the part of the recording they’d been going through.

  “Yes, I’ll cue it up. But, Margot…” He turned to look at her. “It won’t show you faces or anything more like that. They’ve already tried running facial recognition and got nothing.”

  “It’s not that,” she said, offering a hopeful smile. “You never know when a different angle could give you something else.”

  He shrugged and typed in a few commands. “Ready when you are.”

  She turned toward the screen. This time, instead of seeing the back of the trench coat man and the profiles of Adam and Sid, she saw from the opposite side. By all accounts, it looked almost worse, which is likely why they hadn’t had the tape cued up for her to see. It still showed Adam and Sid, though from the other side of their profiles, and then the man in the trench coat.

  Because of the angle of the light, it was actually a worse shot of the man, his whole upper half covered in shadow with no hope of catching any detail of his face around the mask. Her hopes began to sink, thinking that this might end up being a waste of her time, but she allowed the tape to roll forward, looking at anything and everything.

  That was when she saw it. From the other view, it had looked like the trench coat man had moved his arm up for some reason and then he’d eventually dropped it to his side. It had looked like a normal movement, a gesture or possibly even reaching inside his coat for something, but from this angle, it looked very different.

  The trench coat man reached up and rubbed part of his arm for what felt like thirty seconds. Eventually, he dropped his arm by his side, but not before Margot associated the move with someone. Someone who wanted to make Adam pay. Someone who might very well be their murderer as well as a corrupt detective.

  11

  Showing up at Chief Hartland’s special BBQ dinner, the one he celebrated weekly with his wife and grown children, seemed like a good idea right up until the moment when she had to interrupt a captivating story he was telling the whole table. As eyes maneuvered away from the chief’s animated features to hers as she stood next to him, Margot felt the fear drop heavily into her stomach.

  But by that time, it was already too late and she was committed. Besides, what was ruining one family dinner over a lifetime—at least in Adam’s case?

  “Missus Durand,” the chief said, his eyes narrowing, “why do I get the feeling you aren’t here for barbeque?”

  She took in a deep breath, stealing a glance at Peter who looked equally intimidated, and then she looked back at the intimidating man with what she hoped was a bold gaze.

  “I’m so sorry to interrupt,” she said, glancing quickly around the table, “but I need to speak with you. It’s urgent.”

  He seemed to weigh her words, and she was sure the next thing he’d say is that it would have to wait until after dinner—at least—but then he turned back to the table.

  “I’ll be a few minutes. Carry on.” His wife looked worried and Margot flashed her a kind smile before following the chief to one of the overflow dining rooms that was currently empty. “There’d better be an excellent reason for this rude interruption, Margot.”

  “I’m so sorry, Chief,” she began, then Peter stepped up.

  “You’ve got to hear this, Chief.”

  “Right.” John Hartland looked unimpressed, but he turned his attention to Margot. “Well?”

  She conveyed what she’d found out about Ron Karlsson, realizing as she shared that she had far less evidence than she’d liked. Then again, she also knew that Dexter was looking into things on the electronic side as they spoke. She’d also asked to see the letter that Sid had supposedly written. To her untrained eye, the handwriting looked very similar to Karlsson’s, possibly disguised, but an analyst might be able to make a connection. The only problem was that that took time.

  “So you want me to what? Arrest a well-known D.C. detective without a lick of proof? Nothing doing, Margot. You know better than that.”

  “I realize that, but you have to consider the fact that he is in charge of the investigation against Adam,” she countered. “How is this going to play out?”

  “Look, I know that you want to save your fiancé. I don’t think Adam did it any more than you do, but I can’t do anything here. There is literally no evidence against him. Unless you can give me hard proof, my hands are tied.”

  Margot knew better. She should have known he wouldn’t be able to do anything. Perhaps coming to him had merely been a formality. “Right. Thank you, Chief.”

  He watched her walk away and she felt his stare burn into her back as she made a beeline to the restaurant door. Of course she needed proof. Her word about Karlsson’s unique movement certainly wouldn’t indicate guilt. But it did set her on a path.

  “What are you going to do, Margot?” Peter asked when they were outside.

  “Find proof,” she said, not turning around.

  “Margot, wait—” Peter chased after her. “Don’t be foolish. You can’t find evidence where there is none.”

  “There is always evidence,” Margot said. “We now know that the detective is involved. That’s more than we knew before.”

  “Right, but if this Karlsson fellow—”

  “What nationality do you think the name Karlsson is?”

  Her question took Peter by surprise. “What?”

  “Nationality. Karlsson. Do you think it’s…Swedish?”

  “I have no idea. Why?”

  “A hunch,” she said. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Go back to your hotel and say hi to Danielle for me. You look like you could use some rest.” She softened her words.

  “You need the same amount of rest as I do.”

  “Yes. I’ll head home soon, I promise.”

  “Do you need a ride home?”

  “No, I’ll call a cab.”

  He narrowed his eyes at her. “Let me drop you off. I’ve got the rental.”

  “Really, I’ll be fine. I’ve got a cabbie who owes me a favor.”

  He finally nodded in agreement. “Talk to you tomorrow?”

  “Yes.”

  “Or we conference call if Dexter finds something.”

  “Sounds good.” She watched as he jogged toward his car. He was likely eager to get back to the hotel to snatch a few hours of sleep before he’d have to be back at the office with Les going over more details of the case.

  Margot did need rest, but she needed to find out something first. Pulling out her cell phone, she did call her cabbie friend. It was a man named Art who often gave rides to the town’s senior residents. He was almost old enough to be living in the senior apartments himself, but he’d held on to as much mobility as he could.

  Margot had first run into the older man when he’d brought Bentley by the bakery. Rather than just dropping off the older man, he’d decided to come in. She’d gifted him a pastry and he’d been a long-time customer after that.

  It was wise to have a cab driver as a custome
r since they often recommended places to their passengers and Art was no exception. He’d brought so many customers to her shops doors that she’d stopped charging him a long time ago. Every time she did, he told her she had a free ride whenever she needed one.

  She was calling in the favor now.

  He showed up only ten minutes after she’d placed the order for a cab, his toothy grin widening against his tanned skin.

  “Miss Margot,” he said in his characteristic greeting. “I wasn’t sure I’d ever see the day when you gave in and asked for a ride so I could return the favor for all those wonderful pastries you give me.” He looked genuinely excited about this and ran out of the car to open the door for her as if she were climbing into a limousine.

  “Thank you, Art,” she said, slipping into the back of the car.

  “Where to?”

  She was about to say home but changed her mind at the last second. “The senior apartments please.”

  “Going to see Bentley?” he asked, his grin visible in the rearview mirror.

  “Yes, I am actually.”

  He nodded and pulled away from the curb. They made polite small talk as he drove, but her phone chimed a new message, which made her ask for his forgiveness while she checked the message. It was from Anthony.

  Margot –

  I just got word that Karlsson is going to close the case on Adam soon. Just thought you should know.

  -A

  Margot’s stomach lurched, but she refused to give in to her fear. She knew for a fact that Adam was innocent and there was one way to prove it. Or, at least she hoped there was a way to prove it.

  “Here we are,” Art said, a few minutes later.

  She reached into her bag to pay him, but he held up his hand. “What did I say? You always have a free ride on me.”

  “You may regret that soon,” she said with a warm smile.

  “I doubt that.” He said good-bye and she waved him off. She suddenly had the thought that she should have asked him to stay around, unsure of how she would get home, but then she shook her head. She’d figure it out later.