by Lauren Carr
“At least I don’t smell like a campfire.” David brushed some soot off Mac’s shoulder. “Bogie said someone filled one of our suspect’s toilet bowl with a flammable accelerant.”
“That’s what it looked like to me. I’m hoping forensics will be able to identify it. Whatever it was, it was odorless and extremely flammable.”
“Why did the killer put it in his toilet?”
“Gannon was a chain smoker,” Mac said. “He had a habit of tossing lit cigarettes into the toilet bowl.”
“The detectives were joking about that this evening,” Archie said. “Basically, his nasty habit was common knowledge.”
“If the killer didn’t know about it before, he or she found out about it this evening,” Mac said.
“The suspect would had to have had easy access to the accelerant used, plus the victim’s room,” David said.
“Hector is securing all of the security recordings from the entire evening—especially those in the service elevators,” Mac said. “I can’t imagine our killer just traipsing around in the open carrying a bottle of whatever it was he used. He also tampered with the sprinkler system to make sure Gannon burned up after the explosion. The entire fourth floor sprinkler system was disabled.”
“The sprinkler system on the whole floor had been taken out?” David asked. “This could have been a real catastrophe. Innocent guests could have been killed.”
“You’re telling me. Hector said that to disable the sprinklers on a specific floor, our suspect would have had to have hacked into the security system. He’s got his people running a check on it now to make sure there aren’t any other surprises.”
“Could the hacking have been done from outside the Inn’s network?” David asked while crossing to the main entrance.
Keeping hold of Archie’s hand, Mac fell in line to walk with him. “Hector’s team is checking on that, too.”
David took out his police shield and clipped it to the belt of his jeans. “Well, I’ll take over here. You go home and get some rest.”
“Someone tried to burn down my hotel. They could have killed my guests.” Mac grabbed David by the arm and turned him around. “I want to know who.”
“So do I.”
“It’s Pratt’s and Polk’s killer. Tonight, we found out that there was a second witness—one who actually spoke to the murderer on the night they were shot.”
“It was Peter Sellers,” Archie said.
“Peter Sellers?” David repeated the name.
“Obviously, the killer used an alias,” Mac said. “Years after the murders, a second witness called the homicide unit and spoke to Lou. Unfortunately, he got arrested before he could pass her information on, and she got hit by a bus. He had left her statement and contact information on his desk. Someone in homicide had to have found his notes and silenced her.”
“Didn’t you say the homicide unit broke up shortly after the murder?” David asked.
“The only one still with the unit at that time was Dani Derringer,” Mac said.
“Dani could have seen Gannon’s notes and innocently passed the information on to someone she thought was an ally,” Archie said.
“Derringer’s not that naive,” Mac said. “My gut is telling me the killer is a cop.”
“That’s what it sounds like to me.” David slipped his arm across Mac’s shoulders. “We’ll get together here at the Inn for breakfast tomorrow to go over everything we have and plan our next move. In the meantime, you go home and get some sleep, Mac.” He patted him on the back.
While David was speaking, Mac noticed Storm sitting next to the Inn’s entrance. A woman dressed in a brown leather flight jacket was waiting with the dog.
“Archie, take him home,” David ordered before sauntering toward the door.
“Aren’t you going to introduce us?” Mac called to him.
David turned around. A broad toothy grin filed his face. “See you at breakfast, Mac.”
“He just blew me off again.” Mac turned to Archie. “Did you see that?”
“It’s late, Mac. Let’s go home.” She tugged on his arm to pull him toward the car. He was about to follow when he heard Derringer’s voice.
“You can’t tell me what to do!”
He searched the sea of faces—a difficult task in the dark. He located her in a dark corner of the front walkway. Dressed in jeans and a light jacket, Derringer wagged a finger at Will Harrington, who grasped a blanket around himself. Due to the fire, he hadn’t been able to return to his hotel room after dousing the flames that had engulfed Lou Gannon.
“Are you okay, Harrington?” Mac interrupted their apparent disagreement to ask. “Did the EMTs clear you?”
“I’m okay, Mac.” Harrington hugged the blanket tighter. “Just waiting for the mob to thin out before moving to my new room.”
“I’m sorry about the fire, but we should get everyone relocated pretty quickly.” Mac glanced at Derringer, who glared at Harrington. “What a way to end an evening. With a bang, not a whimper.”
“Certainly not what I envisioned for Gannon,” Harrington glanced at Derringer. “He was an ass, but he didn’t deserve getting taken out.”
“Who are we to say what he deserved or didn’t deserve?” she asked. “None of us have seen him in years. He tried to frame one of our own guys in vice for killing a federal agent to protect his drug pusher son.”
“Gannon did his time for that,” Mac said.
“Vengeance is a slippery slope that no one should take,” Harrington said.
“Give it a rest, Harrington,” Derringer said. “I’m not your wide-eyed protégé anymore.” With a toss of her head, she brushed past them and went to the bar.
“I’m sorry you had to see that.” Harrington hugged the blanket more tightly around his shoulders.
“What was that about?” Mac asked.
“She’s too old now to take advice from an old man.”
“Advice about what?”
Harrington broke into a coughing fit that caused him to double over to catch his breath. Mac patted him hard on the back. When it seemed as if the elderly man was unable to catch his breath, Mac called for a glass of water from the bartender.
After sipping some water, Harrington was finally able to answer Mac’s question about the advice he had tried to offer to Derringer. “I was trying to warn her about ending up like me.”
“Ending up like what?” Mac asked.
“Bitter and alone.” His eyes red, he turned to Mac. “And full of regrets.”
“Gnarly’s all over the news again,” Archie called into the bathroom from her side of the king-sized bed. Mac was brushing his teeth. She tapped Gnarly, who was on Mac’s side of the bed. “There’s already talk of you running for president.”
Gnarly grunted.
“I agree. You may be crazy, but you’re not that crazy.”
Mac turned off the water in the bathroom. “Did you say something?”
“No.” She tossed her phone onto the bed-side table. “Something is going on with David. It’s not like him to blow you off—especially during a murder investigation.”
“Have you ever seen that woman before?” Mac emerged from the bathroom and tossed his smoky clothes down the laundry chute.
“No, but don’t give David a hard time, Mac.”
“Why would I give him a hard time?” He turned around to discover Gnarly stretched out with his head resting on Mac’s pillow.
“Because I think he’s lonely,” she said. “You don’t realize it, but David wants what we have—a committed relationship.”
“I can see someone who’s ready to be committed right now.” Mac pointed at Gnarly, who rolled his eyes up and down, left and right, to determine if his crime of trespassing had been detected. “I don’t care if you are a hero. That’s my pillow.”
Gnarly lifted his head. He regarded Mac for a long moment before slowly rolling over and moving a miniscule bit. He lifted his eyes up to see if that was enough. Mac pointed to the foot of the bed. Gnarly moved a couple of inches in the direction to where he was pointing. Mac jerked his chin. Uttering a deep sigh, Gnarly moved to the appointed spot. He turned around three times. With a loud groan, he lay down. Bet the President never gets sent to the foot of the bed.
“Mac,” Archie said with an exaggerated pout, “Gnarly did save a little girl’s life tonight.”
“I almost got blown up by an exploding toilet.” Mac climbed into the bed next to her.
“I’m glad you didn’t.” She kissed him softly on the lips.
“So am I.” He planted a long, lingering kiss on her mouth. “Can you imagine the jokes that would be flying across the Internet if Mac Faraday, son of the late, great Robin Spencer, got killed by a toilet?”
Together they laughed until Archie chastised them. “Lou Gannon got third degree burns over two-thirds of his body.”
“I know. Whoever set that trap for him is cold—very cold.”
“I can’t believe any of those people we were having drinks with tonight would have done that.” She rested her head on his shoulder. “They could have burnt down the whole hotel with everyone in it.”
“I find that hard to believe, too,” Mac said. “I’ve worked with all of them. I’ve watched their backs and trusted them to watch mine. I’ve considered each one of them to be my friend. None of us liked or respected Lou. But, to set up a fire bomb in his toilet?”
Archie wrapped her arms around him and held him tight. “What would you expect from someone who would kill a bride and groom on their wedding night? This killer that you’re looking for is merciless.” She looked up at him. “Promise me you’ll be careful.”
Mac kissed her again. “I’m always careful, my love.”
The sound of a car engine pushed Tonya over the edge of sleep to wakefulness.
As she sat straight up in the bed, the sleeping corgis, who had tucked themselves in on either side of her, tumbled over to fill in the space beneath her. Their sleep undisturbed, they continued to snore.
What kind of detective are you falling asleep while on a stake out? Tonya chastised herself while groping the pillows in search of the scope. It was dark outside, except for the LED motion detector lights lining either side of the Kleinfeld driveway.
She also saw a tall, dark figure on the stone wall marking the property line between the two estates. It was a figure with tall pointy ears. Tonya pressed the scope to her eye and peered at the figure. With a gasp, she recognized it.
Batman! No!
She pressed the scope to her eye again and narrowed her eyes to get a clear view. She recognized the long snout when he turned his head.
Gnarly! What is he doing?
Refocusing the scope, she turned her attention to the activity in the driveway. There was a Mercedes convertible with its engine running. The trunk lid was up. Tonya could see a dark figure stuffing what appeared to be garbage bags inside the trunk.
Tonya adjusted the focus on the scope to see if it was Constance or Edward.
After closing the trunk lid, the dark figure picked up a stick and hobbled around to the far side of the car.
With a grin, Tonya concluded the dark figure was Constance.
She climbed into the driver’s seat. With the headlights off, the car pulled out onto the road and drove away.
No headlights, Tonya mused. She noted the time. Two-thirty in the morning. What are you hiding, Constance?
Chapter Seven
Tonya woke up to four pairs of dog paws digging at her. She had fallen asleep with her head resting on the windowsill—not a comfortable position.
Upon recalling that she had been on a stakeout, she grabbed the scope and peered across the stone wall to the Kleinfeld home. She searched each room before she found Constance scrubbing the walls in the master bedroom.
Tonya lowered the scope. The Kleinfelds’ cleaning woman had complained that Constance was extremely messy. She and her husband had trashed their luxurious home. From what Tonya had observed during her surveillance, cleaning was not on the top of Constance’s list of priorities.
Why is she suddenly scrubbing the walls with a brush?
Abruptly, Tonya remembered the scream she had heard the night before. Pressing the scope to her eye, she searched each room of the Kleinfeld home.
Edward was not in sight.
Could she? Nah! Maybe …
Being elected mayor did not go to Gnarly’s head. His territory was much too important to leave security in someone else’s paws. For that reason, he insisted on inspecting the perimeter at six o’clock every single morning—which meant Mac had to get out of bed to release the hound.
There was a dog door installed in one of the doors on the ground floor that Gnarly could and did use. For some odd reason, he refused to use it in the early morning hours.
Mac suspected he simply enjoyed torturing his human. There was no sleeping in for this multi-millionaire. As hard as he’d try, as soon as he drifted back to sleep, Gnarly would return to demand breakfast. Then, he’d have to go back outside to do a double check.
After years of trying to convince Gnarly that he was a dog, Mac was the head of the household, and the dog should adjust his schedule to sync with the human’s—Mac threw in the towel. Gnarly demanded that he get up with the sun—so Mac rose with the sun.
Gnarly was gulping down his food with a vengeance when Archie, dressed in a long emerald green robe, strolled into the dining room after leisurely waking up.
She paused where Mac was reading the news on his tablet to tilt his head back and give him a lingering kiss on the lips. She stroked his neck. “There’s more where that came from,” she said softly with her mouth so close to his that he could taste her breath. She smelled like lilacs.
“I have to meet David and Bogie,” he said with a frown. “Can I have a raincheck?”
“For you, yes.” She moved on to the coffeemaker to pour her first cup for the day.
Watching her move across the floor, he wondered if he could delay the meeting at the Inn for one hour. Hey, David blew us off last night. Why can’t I?
Reminding himself that he was the one who had asked David for his help, Mac put his desire for Archie in check. Besides, he was already dressed. Maybe if he got the move on, he could make enough progress to return home early before changing for that evening’s rehearsal dinner.
“Mac!”
They heard Tonya bang through the deck doors in the dining room before they saw her. The corgis stampeded into the kitchen to descend on Gnarly’s food bowl. A skirmish broke out over which little dog was going to get the handful of dog pellets left behind.
Above it all, Gnarly scratched at the deck door until Archie opened it to allow him another check of the perimeter. The leftover food gone, the corgis followed him like a litter of pups trailing after their parent.
“She killed him!” Tonya said with gasping breaths.
Archie whirled around with her mug, filled with hot coffee, in her hand. “Did he die? How awful. Well, I guess it is a blessing.”
“Only because he doesn’t have to put up with her anymore. That witch killed him. I bet you it was for his money, too.”
“I assumed Gannon didn’t have any money.” Archie grasped Mac’s shoulder. “Did he?”
“Who’s Gannon?” Tonya asked.
“Lou Gannon,” Archie said. “The former police lieutenant who got blown up by a toilet last night. Who are you talking about?”
“Edward Kleinfeld,” Tonya said. “Constance killed him last night.”
That news prompted Mac to get out of his seat. “Did you see her kill him?”
Tonya let out a deep breath and folded her arms across her chest. �
��No.” She jabbed the air with her finger. “But I know she killed him. I can feel it in my bones.”
“What makes you think she killed him?”
“Last night, they were fighting like cats and dogs. About nine o’clock, he stormed off to bed. I took my fur-babies outside and while we were outside, I heard a scream. It was an awful scream.”
“From the Kleinfeld house?” Mac asked.
“Well…” Her voice trailed off.
The corners of Mac’s lips curled. “Are you sure it was a human scream and not a screech owl?”
Tonya hung her head. With a renewed sense of resolve, she lifted it again. “Then this morning, I saw Constance scrubbing down their bedroom walls and Edward is nowhere to be seen.”
Mac and Archie exchanged glances.
“What else?” Archie asked while Mac checked the time on his tablet.
“Penny said the Kleinfelds were the messiest people she ever had to clean up after. She’s right. The inside of that house is a pig pen. Now suddenly, Constance is scrubbing the walls with a brush and her husband is gone.”
“He’s probably playing golf at the club,” Mac said. “He’s a member of the athletic club and he plays golf practically every day.”
He kissed Archie and patted Tonya on the back on his way out the door. “Keep up the good work, Tonya. I’m sure you’ll catch them before long—whatever it is they’re doing.” He left for his meeting.
With a huff, Tonya plopped down at the table.
Archie poured a cup of coffee for her and slid into the chair across from her. “Gnarly doesn’t like the Kleinfelds.” She brought the mug to her lips and blew into it to cool it off. “He loved Mr. Beckett, who adored him. Gnarly would hang out on his patio with him. He’d sit next to his chair, and Mr. Beckett would stroke him and talk on and on about the dog he had when he was a child.” She took a sip. “On the day they moved in, Constance came over here and screamed at me because Gnarly peed on the bush at the end of their driveway. I said I was sorry, but she was so busy swearing at me that she didn’t hear me. She ended her tirade with a declaration that we were the worst neighbors on earth.” Her emerald eyes narrowed in thought. “Now that I think about it, Gnarly never peed on that bush when Mr. Beckett lived there. I wonder if he was making some sort of commentary when he did that.”
