Evelyn David - Sullivan Investigations 02 - Murder Takes the Cake (17 page)

Mac finished the eggs and toast. He swallowed the antibiotic, given as a precaution for the bullet wound, then tried unsuccessfully to stifle a yawn.

“Okay, bedtime. You’ll sleep in the guest room. The bathroom’s across the hall. Come on, I’ll help you up the stairs.” Rachel offered an arm to help Mac from the chair. He grimaced but grabbed hold, groaning as he levered to a standing position. Whiskey stood ready to assist.

“
Come on girl. You’ll be the night nurse.”

***

He held her hand as they walked across the damp sand. His grip was firm, commanding. She sensed a shifting in their relationship as they moved towards something ahead. It scared her. He urged her to keep up, to walk faster. She could feel his will enveloping her as though it was a physical thing. She could hear the waves in the background, the water flowing and crashing against the shore.

She shivered, suddenly cold as a breeze hit her naked flesh. Naked? They stopped and turned towards each other. Mac seemed taller without clothes. It was so dark. She wanted to see him, to touch him, but she couldn
‘t move.

He whispered something. She couldn
‘t make out the words, but she knew what he wanted. She wanted it too. She didn’t want to be alone any more.

He moved his hand upward, abandoning her fingers in order to stroke the icy skin of her forearm, then her shoulder. His lips touched her cheek. She turned into the kiss. The sensation was soft, warm, wet…furry. Furry?

Rachel woke up with a start, staring into two large brown eyes and a set of huge teeth, only inches from her face. She couldn’t hold back a small scream even as her brain kicked into gear and she separated reality from the dream.

The dog obviously didn
‘t understand. Whiskey whined and leaned in to lick her face again.

Rachel moved back in time to avoid another canine kiss.

“Whiskey! What’s wrong?” Sitting up, she flipped on the bedside lamp. Her comforter and top sheet had been pulled to the floor, leaving her t-shirt clad body exposed to the night chill. She realized the dog must have been trying for some time to wake her up. She was freezing.

The dog barked again and walked to the now wide open bedroom door. Rachel had left it cracked so she could hear Mac if he needed something during the night. Obviously that hadn
‘t worked. She’d been dead to the world.

Grabbing a robe, she followed the dog down the hallway. The faint sound of water running that hadn
‘t registered before got louder.

“
Oh, my…Mac, what are you doing down there?”

She found him on the guest bathroom floor, twisted around the fixtures in the small room, lying in a puddle of water. He was conscious, but judging from the noises he was making, in great pain.

He mumbled something, his head buried in the space between the toilet and bathtub.

“
What? I didn’t understand. Try not to move. I’ll call 911.”

He jerked, then groaned.

Whiskey barked.

She heard a hiss and noticed Snickers sitting in the vanity sink.

There were way too many humans and animals in the bathroom.

“
Mac?” She grabbed a towel off the rack and tried to position herself over him, in order to wedge the cloth under his head. Whiskey moved in too close and she couldn’t reach around her. “No, Whiskey. Get back!”

The dog barked again and wouldn
‘t move.

Rachel shoved.
“Whiskey! Get back!”

The man on the floor shifted and she was finally able to see his face. It was white with pain.

“Oh, God. Mac. Did you fall? I’ll get you an ambulance. I’ll call right now for a–”

“
Plumber,” he supplied with a groan. “Or a pipe wrench. I need a damn pipe wrench. Your shut off valve is leaking.”

Snickers chose that moment to relocate from the sink to the top of Whiskey
‘s back. The dog twisted and jumped, knocking Rachel off balance into the tub, as the dog chased after the cat. Grabbing at the shower curtain to slow her fall, Rachel managed to pull it and the rod down on top of her.

Bruised hip and elbow aching, Rachel stared upwards through the semi sheer rose colored vinyl covering her face. It had a distinct moldy odor. She needed to buy a new one. Sighing, she closed her eyes for a moment. No romantic walks on the beach for her. This was her reality.

***

Rachel poured the coffee cake batter into the cake pan and slid it into the oven.
“I appreciate your Dad coming over at 3 A.M. and fixing this leak. I don’t know what got into Mac to try to work on the plumbing in his condition. Before tonight I had a tiny, little drip problem under that metal knob, but the plastic bowl I put under it worked really well. After Mac tried to fix it….Well, you saw the water. To my credit, I did have a call into a plumber about the drip, but it was going to be another week before he could get to me. The plumber warned me not to mess with the valve. He thought it might be rusted and if I tried tightening it, I might break it.”

Bridget laughed, refilled her coffee cup from the carafe Rachel had placed on the kitchen table.
“I imagine it was the pain meds. Uncle Mac is usually pretty laid back about that kind of thing. Don’t worry about Dad, it’s not like he was going to get his own hands wet, he knows several plumbers who owe him or will owe him. I’m sure the guy he’s supervising upstairs was happy to trade an hour’s work for a nice discount on a casket.”

Rachel opened the refrigerator and pulled out a carton of eggs.
“Someone else has been getting a nice discount on a number of caskets from O’Herlihy’s.”

“
Dad mentioned something about that. I think he’s planning to upgrade the security system at the funeral home.”

“
That might help.” Rachel cracked a dozen eggs into a bowl. “Well, I’m sorry I woke you up when I called. I know you’ve been busy with the wedding plans. Your mom left me a message while I was in Boston that you’d chosen a cake and agreed to move the wedding to the Willard.”

Bridget
‘s smile disappeared. “The Laskys wore me down and of course Mom always wanted the elaborate, pull-out-every-stop type wedding. Dad was on my side about the Willard but once the Laskys volunteered to pick up the whole tab, he sort of gave up too. I think he’s tired of the whole thing and didn’t want to fight with Mom about it anymore. What are you cooking now? You don’t have to feed us, you know.”

“
Quiche. I’d planned to fix it anyway–just later in the day.” Rachel glanced at the clock on the wall. “It’s almost five A.M. Might as well have an early breakfast. Are you and Joshua okay? Weddings are stressful, even if the bride isn’t worried about someone stalking her.”

“
Yeah, well, I can’t say that murder has brought Josh and me closer. He thinks I’m having a nervous breakdown. Can you believe he actually suggested I should quit my job after the wedding? He thinks I’ll be happy sitting on a couple of charity boards. And of course he wants kids right away.”

“
You two hadn’t talked about these things before?”

“
Sort of. I think I assumed he wanted the same things I did.” Bridget shook her head. “I know. Stupid.”

Rachel grinned.
“Not stupid. Just not smart. Love tends to blind us to our differences, but reality always rears its ugly head. At least you’re talking about it now–before saying ‘I do’. You’ll work it out.”

“
I do love Josh but I’m kind of afraid of what I’m getting into with his family. His father is nice enough, but he drinks too much. Frankly, the uncle gives me the creeps. Every time I turn around, there he is–lurking in a corner and watching us. But Josh thinks the world of him and every time I mention that maybe his uncle shouldn’t be that involved in our plans, Josh gets angry.”

“
Keep trying,” Rachel advised. “Contrary to stereotypes, my mother-in-law was a very kind woman and I cared a great deal about her. But she died only a few years after we were married. The rest of my ex’s relatives lived a 1000 miles away and weren’t that interested in us.”

“
I’m not sure Josh’s stepmother qualifies as a mother-in-law. I certainly don’t envision us getting close. His real mother died when he was very young. Maybe that’s why he’s abnormally close to his uncle.”

“
Maybe you should ask the uncle for lunch. Just the two of you. Have a nice chat and work out the awkwardness; let him know how much you truly care for his nephew.” Rachel finished up the quiches and put them into the oven with the coffee cake. She laughed. “Enough relationship advice from me! I’m certainly no expert.”

Bridget flashed a quick smile.
“You’re a good listener. In my book, that’s more important.”

“
Thanks, but I’d better stick to cooking. I’ll nuke some bacon in about 20 minutes and that should be enough for breakfast once I make another pot of coffee.”

Both women looked towards the door connecting the kitchen to the living room as the sound of voices drifted in.

“Hopefully the plumber is–”

The doorbell rang before Rachel could finish her sentence.

***

“
Somebody die?” Edgar Freed stood on her front porch, portable oxygen tank slung over his shoulder.

“
What?” Rachel ushered him inside and pointed him in the direction of the kitchen where everyone else was gathering. “Where’s your scooterchair?”

“
I saw all the lights and cars. Thought there was a death in the family.”

“
No, not in the family. Scott Merrell was killed. Mac was shot.”

Edgar
‘s expression changed from one of curiosity and concern to surprise and fear. “How is he?”

“
Irritating, but alive.” Rachel smiled. “He’s upstairs resting, but I expect him to crawl down the stairs any minute. Jeff and Bridget are here. Come have some breakfast with us. Where’s your scooter chair?”

“
Home. Felt like walking; that’s why I brought the tank.” He sniffed the air. “I might could eat a little something. I always did like breakfast until Elinor got on an oatmeal kick. I despise oatmeal. Always have.” He sighed. “I miss Elinor but not her oatmeal. You’re not serving oatmeal are you?”

“
No oatmeal.”

Bridget and Jeff were already sitting at the table, plates full, a discussion about the Laskys penchant for taking over in full swing.

“Yesterday Leo Lasky sent me a 25 year old bottle of Macallan as a thank you. Who knows what that costs?” Jeff said. “$500 a bottle? More? Now I regret agreeing to the Willard. Feels like I sold out. I’d rather have had a six-pack of beer any day. Beer, now, that would have been a friendly gesture. Something like Macallan you have to have an occasion. What do I know about occasions?”

“
He was probably just trying to be nice,” Bridget countered. “Enjoy it.”

Jeff chewed his quiche and swallowed.
“He was trying to show how much money he has, that’s what he was about.”

Edgar nodded his agreement as Rachel served him.
“I like bourbon myself. Jack Daniels. And it don’t cost no $500 a bottle.”

“
Mac said he had you doing some research on the family. What have you found out?”

“
I’d like to hear that too,” Mac said, hobbling into the kitchen. “Right after Rachel doles me out one of those muscle relaxers.”

“
You should be in bed,” Rachel reminded him, knowing she was wasting her breath. “Not remodeling bathrooms or trying to track down killers.”

Mac took a chair at the table and carefully lowered himself downward.
“No time for sleeping now. We’ve got to put the pieces together on this investigation. Merrell, Crager, the threats against Bridget, are they connected or not?”

Edgar blew on his cup of coffee.
“Add the Lasky twins and Martha Martinelli to that list. They were all at Harvard at the same time. And before you ask, JJ found a current file Crager was collecting on Martha, so she’s definitely connected.”

“
Speaking of JJ.” Mac looked at Rachel. “Can you set another plate? I called JJ and woke her up. She’s on her way over.”

Okay, Rachel thought, another thing Mr. Sullivan and I are going to have to discuss after this case is over; our relationship is not going to be based on me cooking and him detecting. Not that I mind fixing a few meals, but he
‘s going to have to kick in some money for food. If he invites anyone else over this morning, I’ll have to make a trip to the grocery store.

She crossed the kitchen to the pantry.
“Maybe I’ve got the ingredients for pancakes. Who knew detective work involved so much cooking?”

Chapter 14

“
I hope these predawn meetings aren’t going to become a habit. I’m not an early morning person. At least not this early,” JJ complained as she walked into Rachel’s kitchen with her laptop and backpack. She looked like she had just rolled out of bed and got in her car; spiky hair, torn sweatshirt, sweatpants, and sneakers with no socks. She removed her sunglasses and exposed some heavy-duty dark circles under her eyes. “I didn’t get home from the office until after 2 A.M.”

“
Sorry,” Mac adjusted the sling on his arm. “Nobody got much sleep last night.” He certainly hadn’t. Between his arm feeling like it was on fire and the muscle spasms in his back, he’d slept in twenty-minute increments until he’d decided to take a hot shower and found the leak. All he’d intended to do was tighten the shutoff valve, but things went from bad to worse quickly. He was afraid the same thing was about to happen with this case. Too many people were getting killed and the circle of violence seemed to be closing tighter around Bridget.

JJ blinked when she got a good look at Mac.
“Hey, you look rough. What happened to you?”

“
Scott Merrell was shot and killed by a sniper at the hotel. They winged me.”

“
Did you get off a shot?”

Mac glanced over at Whiskey.
“If I was a quarterback, you’d say I was sacked by my own lineman.”

Edgar cackled.
“Some guard dog you’ve got there Sullivan.”

“
Hey,” JJ protested. “Whiskey just does things her own way, kind of like you and me. It’s not like any of us are first round draft picks.”

“
Speak for yourself.” Jeff laughed and pushed back his chair from the table. “If you guys are going to talk football, I’m out of here. I need to get home before Kathleen notices I’m gone. She has a list of items needing my attention and I don’t want her getting all riled up, thinking I’ve blown off her detailed and well stated instructions for how I’m to use my time today.”

Mac started to get to his feet, but Jeff motioned him back down.

“Thanks, Jeff, for everything. If it’s okay, I’d like Bridget to stay. I want to try to piece everything we know or think we know together. Bridget may hold some key pieces.”

Jeff nodded.
“Bridget, give me a call when you want to come home. I’m sure your sainted mother will give me a hall pass in order to drive you.”

“
I’m perfectly capable of getting myself home.” Bridget took her and her father’s dirty dishes to the sink. “I don’t need 24-hour a day protection.”

Rachel glanced at Mac and their eyes met. She knew he didn
‘t believe that anymore.

***

Mac sat up a little straighter, the microwaved heating pad Rachel had pushed between the chair back and his lower spine felt incredible. He needed to make a note to pick up a half dozen the next time he was in a store. He really needed another muscle relaxant, but he didn’t dare take one until his hastily called team meeting was over; he needed to keep his mind clear.

His team…. The irony didn
‘t escape him. A year ago when he’d retired from the police force he’d been planning a solitary life, just him, his dog, and a few simple insurance scam cases to keep him in pizza and beer.

He glanced around the room. Rachel, dishwasher humming, was finally sitting at the table, eating her own breakfast. An out of breath Edgar had returned from a trip across the street to pick up his notes. JJ had finished her pancakes and was chugging black coffee, trying to get enough caffeine in her system to function. She already had her laptop booted up in front of her. Bridget was checking her email messages on her Blackberry. Snickers was perched on top of the refrigerator, glaring daggers at the dog asleep on a throw rug in front of the kitchen door.

Clearing his throat, he got their attention. “I know I owe apologies and thank-yous to everyone in this room for one thing or another. If you’ll keep notes on that, I’ll get back to you after we find out who is threatening Bridget. My best guess is that Scott Merrell was the one who involved Sullivan Investigations in the murder of Brian Crager. I think he wanted us to catch the killer or killers before they killed him. Too bad he didn’t trust us enough to share any information.”

“
Despite what the police say, you believe Brian Crager was murdered?” Bridget asked.

Mac nodded.
“Yes. I haven’t gotten the glass tested that you took from Crager’s living room, but there are just too many things pointing to foul play. Scott Merrell was connected to Crager and now he’s dead too.”

“
The recently deceased Martha Martinelli was connected to Crager,” Edgar said. “JJ found a file about her death on Crager’s computer. And I’ve discovered that Martinelli, Crager, and the Lasky twins were all at Harvard together one year–Crager and Martinelli’s senior year, the Laskys’ freshman year.”

Rachel waved a hand.
“Wait, why do you think…her funeral is tomorrow. You think she was murdered? I did her makeup. I thought she died of–”

“
Natural causes?” JJ interjected. “Lot of that going around.”

“
I don’t understand.” Bridget frowned. “I didn’t know Martha Martinelli, or Brian Crager for that matter, just Scott Merrell. Remember, he’s the one who threatened me back in Boston. I spoke to him face-to-face that time he was sitting on my car. He was at the farmhouse. He probably killed Brian Crager and now that Merrell is dead, the threats should end. Merrell had plenty of enemies. What’s the saying? The enemy of my enemy is my friend?”

“
Before Merrell was shot, we had a little heart to heart. He admitted to harassing you that one time, but denied everything else. I believe him. Someone else mugged Rachel that evening when she was wearing your jacket.”

“
Who killed Merrell and tried to kill you?” Rachel asked. “You think he’s the one who mugged me?”

“
Okay. Wait.” Mac shifted on his chair, his head was beginning to hurt in addition to his arm and back. “We’re going in circles. JJ make a list and let’s start from the end and work backward.”

JJ put her hands on her laptop keyboard.
“Ready!”

“
Scott Merrell was killed. Put down yesterday’s date,” Mac said.

JJ typed, adding,
“Rachel was attacked two days ago outside the restaurant wearing Bridget’s jacket.”

Bridget said,
“Just before I left Boston a car tried to run me down. I don’t think that was an accident.”

“
And four days ago someone might have tried to poison Bridget in the Boston bar, accidentally killing her coworker,” Mac said. “And Crager was killed sometime around that time, maybe a few days earlier.”

JJ turned to face Edgar.
“When exactly did Martha Martinelli die?”

“
According to those obits you found, a day before Bridget got to town,” the old man answered.

Bridget added,
“Don’t forget that a day before the incident at the bar, I got the email warning me I was going to die. And a week before that I–”

“
Got your car scratched up by Scott Merrell.” Edgar checked his notes. “And before that your ‘cops on the take’ story.”

Rachel frowned.
“So how much of this is all connected to Bridget’s police corruption story and how much is something else?”

“
I don’t know.” Mac got to his feet. “With a little effort we could pin all this on Scott Merrell. He had the opportunity and the means, if not the motive in all the deaths. The only problem is that he didn’t kill himself. So we’ve got to think beyond Scott Merrell. There’s someone else out there.”

Edgar raised his hand.
“I think we need to focus on Joshua Lasky.”

“
Why?” both Bridget and Mac asked at the same time.

Edgar took another bite of coffee cake and swallowed.
“He’s hiding something. He’s like one of those quiet psycho killers who suddenly explode one day and take out everyone in sight with an assault rifle. Remember that guy down in Texas, in the tower?”

“
Oh, come on!” Bridget protested. “You don’t believe that. Josh is perfectly sane. I admit he comes with a lot of baggage along with the Lasky money, but… he and his family do a lot for society. They really do mean well. Joshua’s dad is on the board of a half dozen major charities. And Leo funds several scholarships at Harvard.”

Edgar huffed.
“What? Extra money so rich kids can bring their polo ponies with them?”

“
You’re just prejudiced against rich people.”

“
I am not. I used to aspire to be one. I just don’t care for people who’ve had everything handed to them. Most of them don’t understand real life and don’t place any value on what other people need or want. Killing someone wouldn’t be any more of a problem for them than swatting a fly.”

JJ grinned, enjoying seeing someone else arguing with Edgar.
“Except the rich don’t swat their own flies; they hire it out.”

Bridget
‘s face reddened. “JJ! You agree with him? You think–”

“
No. I mean, like why would they agree to pay for a big wedding if they were going to kill the bride?” JJ explained. “They’ve invested a lot of cash in making your wedding the social event of the season. What I think is that there’s another Boston cop who wants to stay out of jail. You’re still due to testify before a grand jury next month, aren’t you?”

“
Yes.” Bridget sighed. “Unfortunately, there are plenty of people in Boston who’d like me gone. I don’t know where to start as far as naming a suspect.”

“
Mac, what about Selena?” Rachel suggested. “Could she have been the one who shot you and Scott Merrell?”

“
The hooker girlfriend?” Edgar asked, sarcasm dripping from each word. “She was still getting money from Merrell. She wouldn’t shoot him until the well was dry.”

“
Enough. Let’s just follow the evidence where it takes us. Right now we need to concentrate on finding some. Edgar, leave me any background checks you’ve got finished. Maybe I can do some reading this evening, if nothing else.” Mac got to his feet and asked Rachel for his prescriptions. He needed some sleep before he tried to make sense of everything. Hell, for all he knew Jeff’s casket bandits were behind everything.

***

“Slow down. Where are you headed, girlie?”

JJ opened Rachel
‘s front door and paused on the porch, slipping on her sunglasses. The last thing she wanted was a one-on-one conversation with Edgar Freed.

“
I’m going home to shower, change clothes, and then go into the office. I need to send out some invoices so Sullivan Investigations clears enough money to cover my paycheck next month. Why?”

“
Thought you might be interested in some real detective work.”

“
Like what?” She really wasn’t in the mood to spend more time at her computer. Of course listening to Edgar was usually an exercise in futility.

“
I told you last night I’ve got a lunch date with Martha Martinelli’s secretary?”

“
Yeah, so?”

“
I figured while I was having a nice lunch on Mac’s dime and pumping the secretary for important intel, you could search Martha’s office.”

“
Sure. You’d love seeing me arrested for breaking and entering.”

“
No, I wouldn’t.” He chuckled. “Well, maybe I would, but I’d chip in on the bail.”

She studied his face.
“You’re serious aren’t you?”

“
Not about the bail, but yes, I’m serious about searching Martha’s office.” Edgar motioned her to follow him across the street. “When I cased the place yesterday, it appeared no one had cleared out Martha’s stuff yet. If you were to put on some kind of moving company coverall and show up with some packing stuff, tape, boxes.… Well, without the secretary guarding the office door, you could slip right in there and go through about anything you wanted. I can keep the secretary busy for a couple of hours.”

“
Okay, I’ll do it.” JJ nodded. “I’ll need a few more things. Something like a clipboard or name badge, something that screams ‘authority.’ Or you know what? Forget the clipboard. I’ll get one of those electronic signature things. A person has one of those–you don’t question that they’re who they say they are. I know a UPS person who might loan me a broken one.”

Edgar sat down on his front porch.
“What about the uniform?”

“
Not a problem.” She joined him on the porch. “Salvation Army Thrift store. Lots of used coveralls. And it’ll take me about five minutes to print up some business cards to match any name that might be on the pocket. What do you think I should look at once I get in?”

“
Mail. Correspondence. Any document with the name Lasky printed on it.”