Evelyn David - Sullivan Investigations 01 - Murder Off the Books (11 page)

Chapter 15

“Too bad I can’t charge by the head,” Jeff whispered, coming up behind the private detective who was lurking near the registry book. “I’d make a killing.”

Mac chuckled. “I’m surprised you haven’t figured out a way to do that.”

“Give me time.” Jeff waved at a dark suited man who nodded in his direction. “Even the mayor is here. Hey, when you get a chance take a look at the deceased. We had to make a fake ear. I think it worked out pretty well. Although I’m not sure the lobe is just right, but it was a rush job.”

“Keep that bit about the ear to yourself. I don’t think
Greeley wants everyone knowing that piece of information. He’s holding it back to help weed out any confessions he might get from the regular crazies and weirdoes that show up at the station trying to take credit for everything from the stolen Concordia mascot to JFK’s assassination.”

Jeff sighed. “Figures. My best work and I can’t brag about it.”

“I thought it was Rachel’s work?”

“Remind me of this conversation the next time you need a car.”

“Sorry.” Mac chuckled. “I’m sure your fake ears are good, too.”

“Here we go.” Jeff touched Mac’s shoulder, directing his gaze in the direction of a tall blonde dressed in a tight black dress coming in the door. “You wanted me to point out the widow. The guy with her is supposed to be her brother, but I have a feeling they don’t share DNA in the way relatives do.”

“Is that normal funeral attire these days?”

“No.” Jeff shook his head. “Have to admit though–the sequins around her–uh the top part–kind of brightens things up.”

“Sequins? Right. Don’t let Kathleen catch you admiring those sequins.”

“Mr. O’Herlihy?”

The funeral director turned towards the elderly man in a black chauffeur’s uniform. “Yes, Joseph?”

The man whispered something in Jeff ear, then hurried away.

Jeff sighed, then leaned close and whispered, “Joseph just drove Mrs. Malwick and her brother here. He wanted to know what to do with certain undergarments the ‘lady’ managed to leave in the limo.”

Mac raised his eyebrows. “Grief does terrible things to people.”

“Speaking of grief–Greeley give you any idea when I’m getting my cab back?”

“Soon. Listen, I’ve got to go talk with Tom Atwood. He’s running the inside surveillance.”

“Where’s his partner, Fat Eddie?”

“In a converted florist van in the parking lot. Eddie and a couple of the department tech guys are monitoring the sound.” Mac spotted the young, black detective passing out programs at the entrance to the chapel proper. “I’ll see you later. I know it’s bad timing, but if you get a chance, think you could find me something else to drive other than that bug truck? It makes Whiskey nervous to ride in it now.”

“Give her a tranquilizer. We’ve all got problems.” Jeff pasted a smile on his face as the first wife and grown children of the deceased approached. “Right now my main one is keeping control of this circus. Even if the ex-wives don’t draw blood, the killer might show up and decide to increase his or her batting average. I don’t really want my business to become known as that kind of a one-stop-shop.”

***

“Anyone here you didn’t expect?” Mac nodded at the mourners as they filed past Tom, their outstretched hands accepting the small white programs with the sanitized facts of Vincent Malwick’s life.

Tom shrugged. “Yeah. At least a hundred people we didn’t plan on. Seems the college wanted a good turnout–I think they must be giving bonuses to employees who put in an appearance. A lot of students here too. The lieutenant is going nuts. He’s calling in officers from the second shift to cover all the action here. Heck, even Roseanne’s finally getting her chance to go undercover.” Tom chuckled at the furtive look Mac cast round the room. “Don’t worry, the boss cast her in the role of Pete Fiori’s wife.”

“Pete Fiori from Narcotics?”

“Yeah, the lieutenant is borrowing guys from all divisions. Pete’s pissed. He had to cut his hair and shave for this gig. It’ll be weeks before he can get back on the street with the dealers.”

“Poor guy. A delousing and Roseanne in the same day.”

Tom laughed, then sobered his expression when one of the milling crowd gave him a disapproving look. “Go away. You’re going to make me blow my cover.”

“Sorry. Are the bugs all working?”

“So far. Eddie says he’s picked up a couple of new chicken recipes, some juicy gossip about the Mayor, and he now knows how to get red wine out of his linen tablecloths.”

The private detective jerked his head towards the chapel. “I’ve got a seat picked out in the back row. I’d better claim it.”

***

“I can’t believe how many people are here. I hope Sam didn’t really want me to make a list,” Carrie whispered to Rachel Brenner as they walked into the marble foyer of O’Herlihy’s main chapel. The line to sign the book of condolences snaked around the entryway and down the hall. A black-suited funeral home attendant advised them that the family was receiving visitors in the reception room to the right, and that the service would be held in the main chapel straight ahead.

“I can’t believe Sam is still directing an investigation from his dorm room,” Rachel snapped. “This is absolutely the last time I want you involved in this mess.”

“Sure. Let’s go and get seats,” Carrie murmured and started forward, but was stayed by Rachel’s hand on her arm.

“Not yet. I want to see the family.”

“Why?” Carrie asked. “You’re not going to talk to them about their bill right now?”

“Of course not. But I want to see who does talk to the family. The killer might be here. That’s the main reason I let you talk me into attending this funeral, instead of staying in my office and balancing the accounts,” Rachel hissed.

The two women bypassed the line of visitors waiting to offer personal condolences to the family and slid into the wood-paneled receiving room. Once inside, Rachel observed that guests were dividing their time between two groups of mourners. In one corner, two boys–one in his late teens, one in his early twenties, stood on either side of a middle-aged brunette and an elderly man.

“I guess that’s the family,” Rachel murmured.

“Yep. At least that’s Tommy Malwick. He’s in my bio class. I bet he got free tuition since his Dad worked for the college,” Carrie whispered. “You think he loses the tuition benefits now?”

“Don’t know.” Rachel’s attention moved across the room and settled on a bleached blonde dressed in a black silk dress, which had rhinestones edging the deep vee-neckline. She, too, was greeting guests and frequently dabbed her black mascar
aed eyes with a Kleenex, while leaning heavily on a muscle-bound man at her side. “Who’s that?”

“My guess is that’s the second Mrs. Malwick or maybe she’s the third. And I think that guy with her is from the college. I’ve seen him before.” Carrie sniffed. “Judging from the looks that Tommy and his Mom are shooting across the room, I’m surprised there isn’t another funeral scheduled.”

The guests seemed primarily to be college employees and friends of Malwick’s sons and first family. Rachel didn’t recognize anyone, and besides some college friends, neither did Carrie.

Organ music filtered into the room. Jeff O’Herlihy appeared and quietly announced that the service would soon begin. The guests, even those who hadn’t been able to speak personally to the mourners, headed into the main chapel.

***

Mac’s seat gave him a comprehensive view of the crowd. He’d made eye contact with Audrey Fieldstone as she’d entered and sat a few rows in front of him. Lenore Adams and another woman with blonde hair joined her a few minutes later. Mac made a mental note to find out who the woman was. Pete Fiori and an unusually conservatively clothed Roseanne took the seats behind them–no coincidence, Mac mused.
Greeley had probably assigned the pair to shadow Lenore–the only other person at Concordia besides Dan Thayer that the lieutenant considered worthy of special attention.

Roseanne looked back and smiled at him. He tried to ignore her–hoping she’d get the hint and pretend not to know him. Instead, she must have assumed he was blind. She gave him a little wave, stopping only when Pete slid his arm along the seat back and jerked her arm down.

 Feeling another pair of eyes on him, Mac looked to the doorway and met Rachel Brenner’s accusing gaze. Her eyes darted from him to Roseanne. Hell, he knew what she was thinking. Her expression said it all–she thought he was flirting with another man’s wife. An uneasy feeling settled in his stomach and he reached into his suit pocket for the ever-present roll of Tums.

 
“Hi,” a voice whispered in his ear as a female body tried squeezing in between him and the end of the pew.

He was forced to move over or risk having the person sit on his lap. Blinking, he looked into the grinning face of Lenore’s secretary–Julianna something–JJ.

“Hi,” he gruffly responded, irritated with himself for letting Rachel distract him from the job he was supposed to be doing. He tore off the end of the roll of antacids.

“The college gave us the afternoon off if we wanted to come see old Malwick get planted. How’s the investigation coming? Any hot leads?”

Mac considered the young woman. She was still sporting the blue fingernails and the short spiked black hair. Instead of the cargo pants and work boots, she was wearing a snug fitting black sweater, a very short black skirt, and black tights. The black ankle boots made her feet look half the size the work boots had done. “Nothing too warm at the moment. How’s things at the computer lab?” He popped a Tums into his mouth.

JJ sighed, and tugged on the knit skirt that threatened to roll up around her pencil thin waist. “Everything still feels off-balance. I hate it when things are out of harmony. Know what I mean?”

He offered the roll of Tums to JJ, surprised when she actually took one. He guessed heartburn was ageless.

Rachel and Carrie surveyed the crowded chapel, searching for two seats together, but found none.

“You take the one over by the plant,” Rachel said softly, pointing to an open seat in the third row. “I’m going to sit back here. We’ll meet in the lobby when it’s over.”

As the minister opened the service with a prayer, Rachel scanned the audience. She wasn’t sure what she was looking for but clearly the police thought that something might happen. She’d recognized the detective named Tom, despite the black suit and a black armband marked O’Herlihy’s, when he’d handed her a program. Probably some of the other guests were really just undercover cops, she mused, shifting her gaze from the right side to the left.

“What in the world is he doing here,” she muttered, spotting a tall teen in an oversized suit jacket, his long hair tied neatly back in a ponytail.

She watched as Ray slouched a little lower in his seat and hid his grease-stained fingernails in his borrowed jacket. Rachel stood with the congregation as the minister began reciting the Lord’s Prayer. She tacked on a prayer asking God to protect her brother and if he wasn’t too busy, could he consider stopping Ray from doing whatever idiot thing was in the boy’s head.

Rachel stayed in her place, but was startled when she saw Ray join the line moving slowly towards the casket. She followed his progress and then noticed a spot of red in the line ahead of him.

Rachel narrowed her eyes. She had a scarf much like the one on the tall woman with dark glasses. Not that she’d ever wear it to a funeral.

When Ray finally reached the casket, the woman with the scarf walked over to the far right aisle and paused as though to regain her composure. Ray briefly stopped in front of the casket, made the sign of the cross, and then quickly moved to the aisle–lining up behind the tall woman who began walking briskly towards the exits.

“What does he think he’s doing,” Rachel whispered to herself, watching Ray as he tripped and bumped into the woman, her red scarf sliding from her neck. She saw Ray’s hand dip into the woman’s raincoat pocket. Then he slid into a nearby pew, sitting down next to a startled Carrie.

“That’s my scarf!” It finally dawned on Rachel what she’d just seen. The scarf lying on the chapel floor was hers. The last time she’d seen it was the night Dan had taken her out to dinner to celebrate his new job at the university. Tired of its continual slide off the shoulders of her rayon suit, she’d taken it off and left it on his car seat.

Rachel stood and hurriedly scrambled over the feet of the people sitting between her and the aisle–the aisle her brother had just walked down in size 12 pumps.

Chapter
16

When the viewing started, Mac left his seat and moved to stand by the back wall. Suddenly he tensed. Rachel Brenner was moving quickly down the center aisle, not stopping at the coffin to pay even the most minimal of respects. Instead, she headed for the far right aisle. She bent down to pick up the red scarf. When she looked up, she locked eyes with… Ray? Then, still clutching the red scarf, she headed for the exit.

“Shit!” He moved to intercept Rachel.

The line was packed with people filling the narrow aisle. He spotted Rachel’s curly hair about three yards in front of him. She was almost at the door.

***

Rachel couldn’t see her, him… couldn’t see Dan. With the funeral still technically in service, the entry hall was virtually empty. She stepped towards the coatroom. “Have you….” She stopped herself. She hadn’t met all the employees yet. Maybe the coatroom attendant was an undercover cop. Just as she’d decided to head outdoors, Rachel felt someone grip her arm and spin her around.

“Where is he?” Mac hissed.

She struggled to slow her racing heart. “Who?”

“Your brother, dammit. Where did he go?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Rachel sputtered.

“Mac, what did you see?” Tom Atwood raced up to join them. “Mrs. Brenner?”

“He’s here or he was,” Mac snapped. “Look for a woman, five-ten, 160 pounds, brown hair, wearing a tan raincoat.”

Rachel glared at the private detective, but kept her silence.

Tom yanked out his walkie-talkie and quickly alerted all units. The hall became a beehive of activity, while the organ music swelled in the background. Suddenly the door to the main chapel opened, and the casket was pushed out by funeral home attendants. Throngs of mourners followed the family. Rachel started to move away, but was held in place by the vise-like grip of Mac Sullivan.

“We’re going to talk,” he insisted.

“I’ve got nothing to say,” Rachel retorted. “And if you don’t let go of my arm this instant, I’m pressing charges.”

“We can talk or you can accompany Ray Kozlowski down to headquarters when they take him in for questioning,” a red-faced Mac warned.

Rachel froze, then nodded. Mac loosened his grip, and moved over to consult with Tom. The casket was being loaded into the hearse. The grieving widow and her “brother” were climbing into the first limo, with the Malwick family moving to ride in a second limo that Jeff O’Herlihy had thoughtfully provided. Throngs of mourners were crowding the front steps, but Rachel could see cops moving carefully through the crowd.

“Are you okay, Mrs. Brenner?” Carrie stood behind her, with Ray next in line.

“No.” She glared at the two teens. “I’ve had it with people lying to me. Both of you were in on this–weren’t you?”

“Carrie had nothing to do with anything,” Ray hissed. “Go back to work, Carrie. I’ll get Mrs. Brenner out of this.”

“Not a chance,” Carrie insisted. “I’m not going to leave–”

“Help us find him, Rachel. Someone is going to get hurt, if this keeps up.” Mac Sullivan was suddenly at her side.

“I honestly have no idea where he is,” Rachel said, thankful that for once she was telling the truth.

“Ray,” the detective glared at the teen. “What did you give him? Was it that damn computer disk? And where is he now?”

The lanky mechanic shrugged his shoulders in reply.

“I’m not playing games here, kid.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Ray mumbled.

“Then what the hell are you doing at the funeral?”

“He came to swap cars with me. Mine’s been stalling out constantly,” Carrie offered.

“Oh, please,” Mac snapped.

“It’s true. Ask Mrs. Brenner. I called Ray this morning when it stalled again on the way to work and he offered to meet me and swap cars. He’s gonna take my car to the garage and I’m driving Ray’s truck home after work.”

“Do you even know how to drive a truck?” Mac pushed.

“Of course. Girls know how to drive a stick-shift,” Carrie said impatiently. “Ray’s gonna fix my car and bring it to me when we go to the movies tonight. We’re gonna see a retrospective of the Terminator movies at the college.”

Ray, who’d had his eyes glued to the floor, suddenly snapped his head up and grinned at the young woman.

***

“We found a brown wig and a pair of very large women’s shoes in the Ladies Room, but no sign of Thayer,”
Greeley said, looking from Mac to the group waiting for him by the doorway. “Tell Mrs. Brenner and her kiddies they can go. But, Mac, you’d better find out what they know and quick. I’ve got more than enough right now to take them in for questioning.”

Mac nodded and moved over to the wall where Rachel, Carrie, and Ray were huddled.

“Let’s go to your office to talk,” Mac murmured. “The lieutenant expects me to get back to him with some answers about what just happened here.” Mac gave Carrie and Ray a warning look. “I’ll catch up with you later.”

***

Mac opened Rachel’s door and waited while she and Whiskey made their way into the neat office. The dog settled down comfortably by the radiator, Mac moved to stand in front of her desk, waiting. A tense silence permeated the room. “Now, Rachel, now. We need to talk.”

“You assume that we have something to say that the other wants to hear,” Rachel snapped. She sat down behind her desk, and looked Mac square in the eyes. “Let me make this easy for you…for both of us.”

Ticking off the points on her fingers, she said, “I didn’t know my brother was going to the funeral. I don’t know why he went to the funeral. I don’t know where he is now. I don’t know if I would tell you if I did, but in this case, it’s not a problem because I honestly don’t know.”

“Okay. Tell me this. Why did you go to the funeral if not to meet him?” Mac countered, loosening the knot on his tie that seemed to have tightened on its own.

“It was in the same building? I thought Jeff might need my help?” Rachel shrugged. “Okay. I was there for the same reason you and the police were there. I wanted to see all the players in this nightmare.”

“What about Carrie?” Mac asked, sitting down across from her.

Rachel leafed through some papers on her desk. “Carrie’s very serious about her work. She wanted to see how Mr. Malwick’s makeup held up under the lighting in the chapel.”

“Right, don’t play games with me. Why was she there? What does she know?”

“I don’t know anything more than Mrs. Brenner.” Carrie marched into the office carrying a vase of pink sweetheart roses. “These just came. They’re for you,” she said, putting the bouquet in front of her boss.

Rachel looked dubious. “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely, unless there’s another Rachel Brenner who works at the O’Herlihy Funeral Home.” Carrie grinned. “Aren’t you going to see who they’re from?”

Rachel hesitated then plucked the white envelope off the front of the vase. She scanned the enclosed gift card.

“Well?” Carrie asked, excitement dancing in her voice. “Who sent you roses?”

“No one you would know,” Rachel said quickly. “Where’s Ray?”

“His boss called and tore him a new one. He told me to tell you,” she turned to face Mac, “that he had to go back to work before he lost his job. If you need him, call him after 9 tonight.”

Rachel stood. “Mr. Sullivan, is there anything else?”

“Sure there is. I’ve got a lot of questions and so far, no answers.” Mac rubbed his shoulder; he still felt the effects of his tree-climbing stunt on Monday night.

“I told you what I know–which isn’t much,” Rachel insisted, fingering the card nervously.

“Do you know why Ray went to the funeral of a man he didn’t know, and please don’t start with the car repair story again.” He shot a glare at the blonde teen who blushed and seemed to have a sudden urge to examine the state of her manicure.

“I was as surprised as you when I saw him,” Rachel answered. She turned towards the Carrie. “Do you know why Ray was there?”

“Nope,” Carrie said firmly. “I didn’t even see him until he was suddenly sitting next to me.”

“So you have no idea of what he passed to your brother,” Mac pushed, keeping his gaze trained on the Rachel.

“I really don’t,” Rachel said. “And I don’t want the kids involved anymore than you do. I sent Sam back to school today so I’m hoping that this is the end of it.”

She narrowed her eyes, shifting her attention back to Carrie. “Carrie, if you know anything, I want you to tell Mr. Sullivan right now. I want all of you out of this mess.”

“Tell me what Ray gave Dan Thayer,” Mac ordered the young woman. “You were with him Tuesday night, weren’t you? Does this have something to do with a computer disk?”

Carrie shifted uneasily under the detective’s close scrutiny.

Rachel shook her head in annoyance. “Carrie! Whatever it is, tell him.”

The teen took a deep breath, and said in a rush, “We downloaded one of Dan’s files from the college computer system. I’m not sure why it was important, but Sam said Dan needed it. I think Ray gave Dan the disk with the file on it. Today. At the funeral.” She glanced fearfully from Rachel to Mac. “Ray isn’t in trouble, is he?”

“I don’t know,” Mac said, his face betraying nothing. If fear for Ray motivated the girl to tell him what was going on, he wasn’t above using it.

His resolve lasted all of two seconds, the frantic protests of the two women and Whiskey’s resulting whines causing him to gruffly admit, “Not yet.”

The room got quiet.

“How did you get the files? Thayer’s PC was impounded and his access to the college’s network has been blocked,” Mac asked, knowing the answer from his interrogation of the boys but wanting Rachel to hear it.

Carrie shrugged. “The files weren’t stored in his computer. We used a backdoor into the college system.”

“You did that in my house?” Rachel exclaimed, astonishment evident in her tone.

Carrie hesitated. “No. We kind of lied to you about going to the movies. Instead, we went to the Comptroller’s office and used Mrs. Lopez’s computer to access the files.”

Rachel’s face paled. “The woman who was killed? You were at the college? I thought Sam was joking about… you actually broke into
….”

“No, no, we were there legitimately,” the assistant said defensively.

Rachel looked doubtful, shifting her gaze from Mac to Carrie.

“It’s a long story, but a friend of mine works in Mr. Malwick’s office. We just volunteered to help her out with an accounting computer. Kind of a public service thing.”

Rachel rolled her eyes and glanced at Mac who seemed lost in thought.

The detective broke his silence. “Did you see anyone near the office?”

“Besides the security guard when we entered the building, no. But lots of people had signed in the book,” Carrie answered.

“No one at all?” he pushed, wondering how close they’d come to running into Angela Lopez’s killer.

“No,” Carrie said firmly, and then paused. “Not exactly. We didn’t see anyone, but Ray heard the guard talking to some woman. They were on their way upstairs, so we left as fast as we could. We’d already hooked up the computer for Tia and copied the files. There was no need to hang around.”

“What was in the files?” Mac demanded, wondering if she knew more than the boys.

“I honestly don’t think there was much,” Carrie admitted. “They were just orders for the Athletic Department–invoices for everything from soap and towels to office supplies.”

Mac and Rachel both looked confused.

“Hey,” the girl held both hands out, palms up, “I don’t know what the big secret was either. Earlier, Sam had said something about his uncle proving he was being framed for some kind of computer scam, but I don’t know what that has to do with purchases for the Athletic Department.”

“When did Ray agree to meet Thayer?” Mac asked.

Carrie’s eyes met his. “I don’t know anything about that. Sam had the disk and planned to get it to his uncle at some point. Something must have happened after they left my place last night.”

Mac was in the hallway and headed to the staircase when he heard Carrie ask, “Who sent the flowers, Mrs. Brenner?”

His feet seemed to stop of their own accord.

Whiskey looked up at him quizzically, but stood patiently waiting for him to continue.

Mac paused long enough to hear Rachel’s soft answer, “Just an old friend named Roy.”