Crimes Past

by Lauren Carr

“Yes, we did meet.” Hope gave her hand a firm shake. “Thank you for inviting us. I have to leave on Monday. We were afraid we wouldn’t be able to spend much time with David.”

  “We’re not usually so busy,” Archie said.

  “I hope we don’t get tossed out of the dinner. We didn’t bring formal clothes.” Hope gestured at her casual slacks and blouse. Gabriel was equally casual in jeans and a sweater that Archie recognized as belonging to David, who had changed out of his uniform and into slacks and a sports coat.

  Archie dismissed her concern with a wave of her hand. “You’ll be fine. We’ll put in a good word with the owner.”

  “I asked for a beer,” Gabriel said when David handed a soft drink with ice to him.

  “You’ll get it in another six years,” David said with a wink.

  Displeased with the response to his request, Gabriel got up and explored the intricate artwork in the elegant home.

  “I heard back from Hitchcock,” Mac told David. “He got in touch with the agent who he believes could help us. We’re to meet him tomorrow morning at Sideling Hill, a rest stop between here and Washington.”

  “The shooter we encountered today didn’t seem like your average suspect,” David said. “Maybe he was a professional.”

  “He was still hanging around the lobby more than an hour after Derringer was murdered,” Mac said. “He knew I’d seen him when he went up to her room. Why did he stick around?”

  “He must have been waiting for someone or something,” David said into his drink while watching Gabriel examine the porcelain pieces in a corner curio cabinet. Concerned about the boy accidentally breaking something, he decided to move in closer.

  Mac followed him into the living room. “If the shooter was a professional, he would have planned every detail. He wouldn’t have taken out Derringer without knowing how he was going to escape.”

  “Maybe something unexpected happened to stop him,” David said as Gabriel reached into the umbrella stand and extracted Archie’s lace bra from the day before.

  Surprised by the discovery, Gabriel’s face broke into a wide grin.

  Stunned, David snatched the bra from Gabriel’s hand and tossed it to Mac, who turned around and pitched it to Archie. With no one to pass it to, Archie balled up the undergarment and threw it in the direction of the kitchen, only to have Gnarly catch it in midair and run downstairs with its straps flapping about his ears.

  “Spencer may not be busy,” Hope said, “but from what I’ve seen, it’s never boring.”

  Storm uttered a long groan and buried her head between her paws.

  One would have thought the Spencer Inn was hosting a royal wedding with the army of hotel security guards making no secret of their presence in the lobby, lounge, corridor, and throughout the hotel. After the events of the previous twenty-four hours, the Spencer police and resort security staff weren’t taking any chances.

  Gnarly was the first through the door. Ignoring greetings from guests and Inn staff, he trotted across the lobby to the lounging area and jumped up into his chair. After turning around three times, he laid down and draped his head across the arm. Storm took the loveseat across from him.

  Will Harrington was reading a paperback in the chair across from the dogs.

  Mac, David, and Gabriel left Archie and Hope behind to approach the retired police captain. His formerly thick wavy silver hair was slicked back off his forehead and his beard, which had been unruly the day before, was trimmed short. Mac suspected he was attempting to polish his appearance for the wedding the next day.

  Harrington put his book down in his lap to shake David’s hand when Mac introduced them. “I hear one of your men got shot today.” He shook his head. “That’s news a cop never gets used to hearing.”

  “No, you don’t,” David said.

  “How’s he doing?”

  “The bullet clipped a main artery. He made it through surgery and is in recovery.”

  “Let’s hope he makes it,” Harrington said.

  “Where were you when bullets started flying?” Gabriel asked.

  After the initial shock of the teenager plunging into the meeting, a grin slipped across Mac’s lips.

  His eyes wide, Harrington regarded Gabriel with curiosity before scratching his ear. “Well, I—what time did all that happen?”

  “A little after one this afternoon,” David replied.

  “I was taking my nap.” Harrington chuckled. “I’m embarrassed to admit that this legendary badass has gotten old and tired. I take a nap after lunch every day—from one to four o’clock.” He frowned. “I’m also sorry to say I was alone—as always.”

  “Was that one of the things you were trying to warn Derringer about last night?” Mac asked. “Giving it all for your career and ending up alone?”

  Seeing confusion cross David’s face, Mac explained, “Harrington and Derringer were arguing outside after the explosion.”

  “The same Dani Derringer who was murdered this morning?” David asked.

  “I was sorry to hear about that, too,” Harrington said.

  “What were you fighting about?”

  “We weren’t fighting. I hadn’t seen Derringer in—” Harrington scratched his ear. “—had to be at least seven years. Since I’d retired. Before that, she had been a protégé of mine. She had followed in my footsteps way too close.”

  “How is that?” Mac asked.

  Harrington folded his arms across his chest—almost hugging himself. “Look at me. I’ve devoted my whole life to law enforcement. Young cops still talk about the big collars I brought in during my career on the mean streets.” He uttered a heavy sigh. “Now I’m an old man—with arthritis pain in my shoulders, back, legs.” He rubbed his right shoulder with a grimace. “No wife. No kids. Never could get close enough to anyone because my career came first.”

  Mac let out a deep breath. “We’ve all made sacrifices.”

  “Derringer soaked up my teachings like a sponge,” Harrington said. “Last night, I saw the result of what I had taught her, and I didn’t like it. When I pointed it out to her, she took exception.”

  “What exactly did you see that disturbed you?” Mac asked. “That she never married and had kids? A lot of people nowadays choose to remain single.”

  Painfully, Harrington climbed up out of the chair. “When you build a brick wall to protect yourself from the world outside, that same wall ends up keeping anyone from getting close.” He tucked his book under his arm. With a nod of his head, he crossed the lobby toward the elevators.

  “Aren’t you going to the rehearsal dinner?” Mac called to him.

  “Getting too close to my bedtime.”

  The elevator doors opened.

  Rico and Rosa Sanchez stepped out of the car before Harrington stepped on.

  Excusing himself, Mac caught up with the detective and grabbed his elbow before they went into the banquet room. “We need to talk.”

  Sanchez spun around. His face filled with guilt. There was resignation in his tone when he told his wife to go on to the rehearsal dinner without him.

  Friday night at the lounge, the music and chatter among the guests bounced off the walls and ceiling. Guests enjoyed cocktails in the elegant atmosphere. There was a view of Deep Creek Lake and the mountains beyond from every angle.

  On his way past the bar, Mac ordered a bottle of cognac to be delivered to his table. He then led Sanchez to a leather booth in a far corner where they could sit with their backs to the wall to observe the comings and goings.

  The trip into and across the lounge allowed Sanchez enough time to regroup. By the time he slid into his seat, his guilty expression had been replaced with confusion. “What’s up, Mac?”

  “A very good friend of mine got shot today.”

  “I’ve heard about that,” Sanchez said. “Even if we don’t
know the officer personally, it strikes every one of us in the heart. We think, ‘It could have been me.’”

  “Then why the hell have you been lying to me? To protect Underwood?”

  Sanchez’s mouth dropped open. He blinked several times.

  The bartender arrived with a serving tray containing a bottle of cognac and two glasses. Mac and Sanchez eyed each other as the bartender poured the liquor into the snifters.

  Mac waited for the server to leave before resuming. “I read through the witness statements from sixteen years ago. You said in your statement that you, Underwood, and your wives were all waiting at your table in the banquet room for the bride and groom to make their entrance.”

  “Is this about Joan going to the car to get the wedding gift?” Sanchez scoffed over the top of his snifter. “She was only gone a few minutes.”

  “No, this is about you playing lookout while Underwood and Derringer hooked up in the supply room behind the bar.”

  Sanchez’s eyes grew wide before glazing over as he recalled the events of many years before.

  “You played lookout for two people who had an intense dislike for the murder victims—”

  “And obviously they couldn’t have committed the murders because they were hooking up in a room in which there was only one way out,” Sanchez said. “I wasn’t covering up a murder when I lied in my statement. I was saving embarrassment for my partner and his family. You know how Joan is. No one holds a grudge like that woman. As it is, Underwood and I have to sneak around just to have a beer together after all of these years.”

  “How did this hook up go down?” Mac asked. “Was it pre-scheduled?”

  “Not by a long shot.” Sanchez shook his head with a laugh. “Joan went back to the car. Derringer was sitting at the bar near our table. She and Underwood started flirting with each other.” He held up his hands. “Clarissa got worried about Joan. The parking garage had so many levels that she thought Joan had gotten lost, so she went looking for her. Once she was gone, Underwood asked me to be the lookout while he and Derringer slipped away and got busy.”

  “How long were they in the supply room?”

  “Are you serious!” Sanchez grumbled. “It was a quickie. How quick is a quickie?”

  Mac cocked an eyebrow at him. Unable to hold Mac’s gaze, Sanchez looked away.

  “Then answer this. Did their affair start before that night?”

  “They first hooked up about a month before,” Sanchez said with a deep sigh. “Brie and Derringer had one of their blow ups. Now the four of us were working together on the Perez case. We needed to get along. Underwood and I offered to meet them at the pub to work out our issues—to try and diffuse the situation. Brie blew us off and only Derringer showed up. Clarissa called me for something or other, so I had to leave. The next morning, Underwood called and begged me to tell Joan that the two of us had been on a stakeout. Turns out he had spent the night with Derringer.”

  “And so it started.”

  Mac and Sanchez looked up to see Troy Underwood heading in their direction. Rosa and Joan were behind him.

  “Underwood and Derringer couldn’t have killed them,” Sanchez said hurriedly to Mac. “They were getting busy in the supply closet.”

  “What’s going on?” Underwood asked Mac while staring at his former partner.

  “I have a witness who tells me that you and Sanchez weren’t exactly honest in your witness statements after Brie’s and Trevor’s murders,” Mac said.

  “He knows,” Sanchez said in a soft voice.

  “Knows what?” Joan demanded to know. “Rico, what did you tell him?”

  When Sanchez didn’t answer, she punched him in the shoulder. Underwood gently pushed her back. In silence, he held her gaze before kissing her softly on the lips. Then, he stepped back and turned around to face Mac, who set down his drink.

  Troy Underwood let out a deep breath. “I knew when Joan insisted that we come here this weekend that you’d figure it all out. It was only a matter of when.” He held out his hands to Mac for him to cuff. “I did it. I killed them. I killed them all.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  David and Mac missed the rehearsal dinner, which took on a somber tone after everyone watched the police chief and Mac escort Troy Underwood through the lobby in a pair of handcuffs.

  Rico Sanchez had to peel Joan Underwood away from Mac after she attacked him while he handcuffed her husband.

  “Joan, stop it,” Underwood said. “It’s okay.”

  “It’s not okay,” Joan said. “You didn’t—”

  “I did! It’s my fault.”

  Joan punched Mac in the shoulder. “You always were a son of a bitch, Mac!”

  “Stop it, Joan!” Underwood turned his attention to Sanchez who pulled her away from Mac and held her back.

  David rushed in from the dinner to help Mac escort Underwood through the throng of curious guests and out of the hotel.

  Kassandra, Gina, Morgan, and even Rosa tried to comfort Joan, who collapsed to the floor in a sobbing mess. In a show of devotion to his former partner, Rico Sanchez ordered Underwood not to say anything and called a lawyer.

  Despite the order to remain silent, Underwood insisted on giving his confession as soon as he arrived at the police station. After setting up the recording equipment in the interrogation room, David and Mac sat across from their suspect, who declared that the murders of Detectives Brie Pratt and Trevor Polk went down exactly as Mac had deducted from his investigation.

  “Underwood, you know how it works,” Mac said. “You need to tell us what happened.”

  “Where do you want me to start?” Underwood took a drink from the water bottle they had given to him.

  “Motive,” David said. “Why did you kill Brie Pratt and Trevor Polk on their wedding day?”

  “Because Brie single-handedly ruined my marriage,” Underwood said. “She seduced me into an affair.”

  “You did have the right to say no to her,” Mac said.

  Underwood rolled his eyes. “She made me fall in love with her. She was exciting. Marriage and parenthood were dull. I was weak.”

  “It wasn’t Brie so much as the suspense of wondering if your wife was going to catch you cheating,” Mac said. “You used to work in vice. I hear some undercover operatives become thrill junkies.”

  “What you’re saying could be true,” Underwood said. “What matters is that Brie threw a hand grenade into my marriage. Blew it to bits. Then, she dumped me for Trevor.” He jabbed his finger into the air. “That’s why I killed them both—on their wedding night. They ruined my marriage. I ruined theirs before it even started.” With a chuckle, he folded his arms across his chest and sat back in his seat.

  Mac and David exchanged glances.

  “Did Derringer know about what you planned to do?” Mac asked.

  “Not only did she know. She helped,” Underwood said. “It was my idea for her to accept Brie’s invitation to be one of her bridesmaids. Brie needed a warm body to even out the bridal party. That way, Derringer got all the intel needed to pull off the murders.”

  “How did you do that?” David asked.

  “Do what?”

  “Pull them off?” Mac asked. “According to your statement taken the night of the murders, you were with Sanchez, Joan, and Clarissa. Will Harrington joined you for drinks shortly before Kassandra Johansson went upstairs and found the bodies.”

  Underwood chuckled. “All of that was a lie. You pointed out this afternoon that Joan had gone to the car to get our wedding present. I excused myself to go to the men’s room. Derringer had left a hotel jacket and key card pass in a plastic bag taped under the lid of the back of a toilet for me to change into. I put those on and went to the wine locker. I checked out the champagne and bucket and went upstairs to deliver the champagne.”

  “Didn’t they re
cognize you when one of them opened the door to find you there in a wine steward’s jacket?” Mac asked.

  “I pretended it was a joke.”

  “What happened once you were in the room?”

  Underwood took a long drink of water. In silence, he looked at them.

  “Underwood?” Mac urged him to continue.

  The detective swallowed. “It was so long ago.” He wet his lips. “Brie opened the door.” He pressed his index finger on the tabletop while making each point. “She looked annoyed but let me in. Trevor had changed his shirt. I opened the champagne and poured it.”

  “Into how many glasses?” Mac asked.

  “Two,” he said. “Brie had a bottle of ginger ale that she had already opened and poured into a champagne flute. Remember she had quit drinking.”

  “There were more than two champagne flutes in the bridal suite?” David asked while taking notes.

  “There were four,” Underwood said.

  “Did you pour any champagne for yourself?” David asked.

  “Why let a good champagne go to waste?” Underwood said. “I toasted them. We all took a drink. I pulled my weapon and shot them before they knew what was happening.”

  “Who did you shoot first?” Mac asked.

  “Trevor. He was the biggest threat.”

  “How many times?”

  “Two times to drop him,” Underwood said. “Brie came at me. We struggled. I managed to get the upper hand eventually. I shot her twice in the midsection. Contact wounds. After she was down, I shot her once in the back. I had two bullets left. I used those to finish off Trevor. I had brought a cleaning cloth with me. I wiped down the ice bucket and bottle to make sure I left no fingerprints. I also took my glass to make sure my DNA wouldn’t be found.” He asked Mac, “Did you find my DNA?”

  Mac shook his head.

  “I didn’t think so.”

  “What about the witness across the hall?” Mac asked.

  Underwood slowly shook his head. “Derringer took care of her. Harrington managed to get a lead on who she was. He trusted Derringer. She was always his favorite. She played him so well. As soon as she got the name from him, she tracked her down and shut her up.”