Evelyn David - Sullivan Investigations 02 - Murder Takes the Cake (24 page)

“
It was in her name. Apparently she was a regular.”

Edgar cleared his throat.
“We should follow-up with a visit to Jimmy’s. Wave a few photos of all them Laskys around and see if anyone recognizes one of them.”

“
We?”

“
Okay, I will. I’ll have to get some photos first. What are you planning on doing? More babysitting of the youngest O’Herlihy?”

“
As a matter of fact, Mac asked me to take Sean with me to the police station this afternoon. He wanted me to see what I could find out about Crager’s sister–the one who disappeared. He called Greeley and they’re going to let me go through the cold case file on her disappearance. Mac thought it might be good for Sean to get out for a few hours. With all the Thanksgiving preparations going on at the O’Herlihy house, and the wedding plans, plus Jeff’s anger over the casket thing.…”

“
The kid deserves to suffer a little. Typical spoiled teenager,” Edgar huffed, picking up the last piece of pizza. “In my day, he wouldn’t have been allowed to–”

“
Hey, I don’t have time for a history lesson from the good old days when things were really bad.” She sucked her soda dry with a loud slurping sound just to irritate the old man. “There are some newspaper photos of Leo and Paul Lasky in the file on Mac’s desk. They attended some charity event a couple of months ago and posed for some publicity shots. You’ve got the engagement photo of Josh. You can use those at Jimmy’s.”

“
You got plans for tomorrow?” Edgar asked, starting his scooter towards the other office.

“
Yeah. Family thing.” She really didn’t, but she didn’t want him feeling sorry for her.

“
Well, if that falls through you could spend the day with me and my great-nephew, the Navy Seal. Wallace is on leave. We’re going out for Thanksgiving dinner. Then we’ll come back and watch the football games. He’s not married.”

“
Thanks. But I’m expected elsewhere.” She pasted a smile on her face. The absolute last thing in the world she wanted to do was meet a younger version of Edgar.

***

The note on his desk relayed that Edgar and JJ were elsewhere occupied. Just as well. He needed some alone time in order to get his paperwork done.

He missed his Royal typewriter. He
‘d learned to write incident reports on that baby. Long ago, the department had replaced manual typewriters with IBM Selectrics, then desktop computers. Who cared that they could go faster, his fingers couldn’t, but nobody could say Mac Sullivan wasn’t able to adapt. He’d attended those damn training classes on computer word processing. He could now hunt, peck, and delete with the same speed he’d had when he had the Royal–about 40 words a minute.

Mac rubbed his eyes. He hadn
‘t slept more than four hours any night that week. Unless he finished the security report and prepared an invoice for the small electronics chain based in Rockville, he wouldn’t have earned a dime in ten days. He’d managed to write a half-page, but the bottom line was the founder’s son-in-law was cooking the books. Wouldn’t be the first time a daughter’s choice of mate cost the father an arm and a leg.

Rapping on the office door startled him. Clients usually didn
‘t drop by unannounced. He started for the door, then remembered JJ’s lecture. He hit save, then shuffled into the front room. His back was stiff after 30 minutes in the desk chair from hell.

“
Open up, Sullivan.”

He
‘d recognize that nasal bellow anywhere. Unlocking the door, Mac forced smile on his face.

Fat Eddie Gordon pushed his way into the office. Tom Atwood stood in the dim hallway waiting for an invitation. Mac gestured for him to come in.

Eddie didn’t waste any small talk. “You getting Alzheimer’s or just too stupid to know better?”

Mac looked at Tom blankly.

Eddie punched Mac’s injured arm. “Don’t try to ignore me, Sullivan. You know what I’m talking about.”

Mac jerked away.
“The answer is almost never, Fat Eddie. I don’t have a clue why you’re here, either in my office or for that matter on this earth.”

“
Don’t call me fat,” Eddie growled, fists clenching.

“
Don’t show up at my office tossing insults and not expect to get hit with some splatter. What is that on your shirt anyway? Mustard?”

The greasy cop eyes narrowed to slits.
“I bet if I searched this office I could find some illegal drugs, maybe some unregistered weapons.”

“
Your partner is too smart to go along with that. In this day and time, planting evidence will cost you more than your pension. Eddie, you need to evolve. Change with the times.”

“
I’ll give you ‘evolve’ old man! Anytime you want to go one-on-one. You let me know.”

“
I have no desire to wrestle an alligator. It’s pointless.”

“
Huh?”

“
Eddie, you’re like an alligator. Think about it, you’re ugly, got big teeth, will eat anything put in front of you, and have a brain the size of a pea. Go crawl back to your swamp.”

A guttural noise echoed in the room. Tom Atwood, fighting to control his laughter, stepped between the two men.

“Hey, Tom, how can I help you?”

Tom Atwood sobered up.
“We got a call from GW Hospital.”

Mac was instantly on alert. That was where Selena Silver had been taken.
“What happened?”

Atwood cut to the chase.
“She’s in critical condition. It’s not an overdose. I mean she definitely was doing several lines of cocaine, but that’s not the strange part.”

Mac could guess.
“Something was in the cocaine?”

Eddie face turned even redder than usual. He gestured around the room.
“I told you we should have run him in yesterday. Son-of-a-bitch knows exactly what happened to the slut. Like I said, he’s probably selling coke and every other street drug out of this place.”

Tom
‘s voice cut through Eddie’s rants. “How did you know, Mac?”

He shrugged.
“I didn’t. Just guessed. I never thought Merrell’s death was a drive-by shooting. It was definitely a deliberate hit. Two days later Selena turns up close to death. I don’t believe–”

“
In coincidences. Yeah, you’ve told me, multiple times,” Tom said.

Mac thought for a moment.
“What was cut into the cocaine?”

“
Rat poison and heart medicine.” Tom flipped open a small notebook. “Warfarin and nitroglycerin. Someone really cooked up something special for her to inhale.”

“
No smell or taste?” Mac asked.

“
I doubt Selena could smell anything anymore. She’s been using for some time.” Tom shook his head. “Besides, with the stuff mixed into the cocaine, she was feeling nothing but the coke. Her age helped her, but still, if you hadn’t found her, she would have been dead within the hour. Docs are still not sure she’s going to make it.”

“
Come with me.” Mac gestured to Tom. Eddie started forward, but Mac stopped him. “You wait here. Try not to touch anything. The cleaning service only comes once a week.”

Mac hadn
‘t seen Eddie that angry since the Lieutenant had taken the last chocolate covered donut in the squad’s coffee room. “The hell I will. You think I can’t cause trouble for you, you just try me!”

Mac and Tom exchanged glances, and Mac finally nodded. Better to keep him where they could both see him.

They went into Mac’s office and he pulled out the bottom drawer of his desk. “Do me a favor.”

He handed Tom a plastic bag with a dirty shot glass.

Tom arched his eyebrow in silent question.

“
I hadn’t gotten around to having this tested. You might want to handle it. I’ve got a feeling you’ll find traces of warfarin.”

“
For starters that’s obstruction of justice and tampering with a crime scene….” Eddie took out his notebook and started writing down all the charges.

Tom ignored him.
“Where’d you get this glass?”

“
Last week, Brian Crager, a guy from Virginia, died. Cops ruled it natural causes, bad heart, so I wasn’t taking anything from a crime scene.” He looked at Eddie. “Out of your jurisdiction anyway, pal!”

“
Talk to me.” Tom nodded, urging Mac to make the connection for him.

“
He was a friend of Scott Merrell. Seems like a lot of people who knew Merrell are turning up dead.”

“
Who else besides Crager, and now, possibly Selena Silver?”

“
Somebody’s been trying to kill my goddaughter, Bridget O’Herlihy. She’s an investigative reporter in Boston.”

Eddie continued to write down notes, muttering to himself.

Tom picked up immediately on the connection. “Is she the one who broke the story on the crooked cops? Merrell was about to be charged in that case, right?”

Mac nodded.
“Bridget says Merrell threatened her. Somebody sent her a dead rat and tried to run her down. Merrell claimed it wasn’t him; told me so before he was killed.”

Tom made a few notes.
“But you’ve got nothing concrete to tie him to Crager’s death or to your goddaughter?”

Mac reluctantly nodded.
“I’ve got a hunch.…”

Eddie looked up from his notebook of grievances.
“Your hunches aren’t worth jack shit.”

Tom ignored his partner.
“What else you got that I can take to the Lieutenant.”

Mac shrugged.
“Not much. Martha Martinelli–”

“
Who?”

Eddie threw down his pen and notebook on Mac
‘s desk. “Jesus, Atwood, don’t you know anything? Martha Martinelli had her own radio show in this town for more than 25 years. She died of a heart attack last week. That broad called it like she saw it, not like those pansy-ass public radio types you always listen to.”

Tom waved him off.
“How does Martinelli figure into all this?”

Mac sat down gingerly. He could feel his back starting to spasm. He gestured for the two cops to sit as well.
“Not sure. She seemed to know all the players, or at least might have known them. Day before she died she met with Ex-Congressman Sandler and he’s still bearing a grudge. She went to Harvard with Crager and he’d been in touch with her lately. Plus there’s Ken Edelstein, a reporter friend of Bridget’s who knew Crager and Merrell. Bridget was with him when he died. Also from a supposed heart attack. Also in the last two weeks.”

Eddie snorted, then ticked off his objections on his stubby fingers.
“A bunch of people have bad hearts and buy the farm. So what? Heart attacks are the number one killer in America. Edelstein died of a heart attack a week before Martinelli and Crager? So what? Holidays are stressful times. And your goddaughter? How the hell does she even fit into this cockamamie story of yours? The only thing all these people have in common is that they live or lived in Boston, now or sometime in the last 30 years. Most of this is ancient history. Call me a reptile; hell, you’re like a stupid dog chasing its own tail. Going in circles and getting nowhere because there is nowhere to go with this crap! I’m not going to arrest you. You’re not worth the time it would take to do the paperwork.” Eddie looked at Tom. “Let’s go! I’ve got real work to do.”

Tom nodded, then rose, gesturing to his partner.
“Sorry, but Eddie’s got a point. Sounds like a case for the Boston cops. Not us. I’ll take the glass and have the lab run it, but with the holiday and all, I wouldn’t expect to hear anything soon. I’ll also see if there was anything suspicious about the Martinelli death since she was a local.”

“
What do you mean, ‘Sorry, but Eddie’s got a point’?” Eddie trailed after Tom as the younger cop strode into the outer office. “Some partner you are! Taking his side–”

“
Thanks, Tom. I appreciate it.” Mac ignored Eddie and levered himself out of the chair. He let them out of the front door, listening as Eddie continued his tirade down the outside hallway. Tom was going to have a rough ride back to the police station.

Mac locked the door after them. He didn
‘t need any more interruptions, no more surprise visits. Ringing bells or not, he wouldn’t want to look up and find someone else had barged into the office. With JJ out, he didn’t have time to deal with any more surprise visitors. He paused, his hand still on the deadbolt. Bridget. Connections. Ancient History. Circles. Surprise visitors. What was it JJ had said Martha Martinelli had written in her appointment book, “Ghosts from the past popping up everywhere.”

Chapter 18

“Thanks for helping me,” JJ said, pushing one carton of information towards Sean and keeping one. “Mac cleared this with Lieutenant Greeley a couple of days ago, but this is the first chance I’ve had to get here. I’m hoping, with your help, to review most of this material in a couple of hours.”

“
No problem.” He sat down at the conference table in the small, stuffy room near the lieutenant’s office. “You still want me to help you paint your apartment though, right?”

She hid a smile as she opened up her laptop and hooked up her portable scanner. The kid really was lonely if he thought painting her apartment sounded like fun.
“Sure. You owe me for that casket ride.”

Apparently satisfied with her answer about the painting, he changed the subject.
“So what do you know about this missing person?”

“
Her name was Theresa Crager. She was a page in Congressman Thomas Sandler’s office in 1978 and went missing, along with her baby. There was some speculation the Congressman had something to do with her disappearance, but nothing was ever proved. Mac wants us to find out what information the cops actually had at the time. I’ve read the newspaper speculation; it’s all over the board. The Congressman did it. UFOs took her. Various kidnapping and failed ransom scenarios top the headlines. Your dad had a funeral for Martha Martinelli this past week. Her radio show about the Congressman and the page ended the guy’s political career.”

“
So the Congressman probably killed her and the baby and hid the bodies.”

“
Maybe.” JJ glanced at him. “Maybe not. See if you can find anything in that box that supports your theory. And you can’t ignore things that disprove it.”

“
Just like a real detective?” Sean’s face brightened. “This is important!”

“
Well, duh! What did you think? Detective work’s not all cloak and dagger and dead rats in a cellar.”

“
That sort of rhymes!” Sean said, smiling. “I’m impressed.”

JJ made a face at him.
“Get to reading. And be sure to scan in any interesting documents or photos.”

“
Do the cops know we’re going to copy this stuff?”

“
No. But what they don’t know won’t hurt us. Hide the scanner under a file if anyone comes in.”

“
Cool!” He grinned. “I’ve hidden bigger stuff than that.”

***

“They never found the bodies?”

JJ looked up from reading a detective
‘s notes describing Theresa’s daily schedule. She’d quit her page position as soon as her pregnancy became common knowledge. She went home to the farm in Virginia until after the baby was born, then she returned to D.C. Three weeks later she and the baby disappeared.

“
Not only that,” she answered. “They never found any proof that they were dead. She had taken a job as a secretary in a small locksmith shop. The babysitter lived about a block from where Theresa worked. One day Theresa didn’t drop off the baby and didn’t go to work. Witnesses described her leaving her apartment that morning like normal.”

“
Did she have a car? Was it ever found?”

JJ flipped through a few pages.
“She did have a car, but she sold it about a week before her death. What have you found out?”

“
The police checked out the babysitter. Andrea Ruel. Twenty-five. She hadn’t lived in D.C. long, but she took care of several kids whose parents worked on the Hill.”

“
What else?”

“
The Congressman had an alibi,” Sean said, holding up a police report. “He’d gone back to Texas for a fund raiser. The cop wrote down that Sandler flew to Austin the day before Theresa went missing and didn’t get back to D.C. until the following week.”

“
Convenient timing. Wonder if it was just staff who verified his schedule or if the cops talked to people in Austin–strangers who might have seen him there and who didn’t depend on him for their paychecks.”

“
Don’t see anything like that.” Sean tapped at stack of photographs. “There are some photos though. Half dozen of Theresa Crager and her baby. A couple of her brother. One of the Congressman. One of the babysitter. There’s some interior shots of her apartment. There’s also some letters.”

“
Scan them in, Sean. Mac will want to see them.”

“
Okay.” Sean stood and gathered up the photos and letters. “I don’t think there’s much left in my box. How about you?”

“
Just looking through Theresa’s checkbook. Rent was sure cheaper back then; $200 for a one bedroom apartment. Of course her monthly salary wasn’t much either. She couldn’t have been making more than $13,000 a year. Don’t see any checks made out to Andrea Ruel. How did she pay her babysitter?”

“
Maybe Theresa paid her in cash.”

JJ shrugged.
“Or maybe someone else paid the babysitter.”

“
Can’t we ask her? Andrea Ruel, I mean. Maybe whoever was paying the babysitter, knows something about what happened to Theresa.”

“
Good idea,” JJ said, sifting through the rest of the documents in the box. “The only problem is that Andrea Ruel is dead. I saw a note about it.” She scanned a few documents, then finally picked it out of the stack. “I didn’t realize the significance earlier. I just thought it was misfiled. She died about ten days after Theresa and her baby went missing.”

“
Murdered?” Sean moved to stand behind JJ, reading over her shoulder. “Does it say how she died?”

“
Yes, but not murdered. And no heart attack, thank God. It was a car wreck. The brakes failed and she went off an embankment. Car rolled. Gas tank caught on fire. The report says they had to identify her using dental records.”

Sean glanced at the photo of Theresa holding her newborn. She stood next to a Ford Mustang.
“What kind of car was Andrea driving?”

JJ frowned, then smiled at the teen.
“Not too shabby, Mr. O’Herlihy. Not too shabby.”

***

“You’re late.” Mac reached into the large paper bag and began setting out the boxes of pork-fried rice, moo goo gai pan, cashew chicken, steamed dumplings, and a dozen other things he’d found on the take-out menu JJ kept in the top drawer of her desk. He’d missed breakfast and lunch. The word ‘starving’ didn’t even come close to describing how he was feeling. “Edgar and I were about to start without you.”

Whiskey, who was busy watching the food migrate from the bag to the conference table, gave JJ a glance and a half-hearted,
“Woof.”

“
Edgar better get off my computer. No one touches my computer,” JJ said, placing her laptop bag and backpack in the visitor chair in front of her desk. She glared at Edgar. “Mac, tell him to stop.”

Mac sighed.
“Edgar, stop. The food is going to get cold.”

“
Hold your horses; I wanted to finish up my notes about Martha’s dinner at Jimmy’s.” Edgar took a sip from a can of Sprite, spilling a few drops as he set the can down on the desk.

“
Damn it.” JJ walked around the desk and grabbed the soda can, dropping it into the trash. “Now I need a new keyboard and mouse.”

“
I wasn’t finished with that!” Edgar said, adding, “I’m not hurting your danged keyboard…and that mouse wasn’t working right even before I ran the scooterchair over it.”

“
Mac!”

“
Whiskey and I are eating. You two do what you want.”

“
Crazy old man.”

“
Prissy little girl.”

“
I’m not prissy.”

“
I’m not crazy.”

“
I’m not amused. You don’t have to eat if you don’t want to, but you both better get your butts over here and report on your afternoon research. And I better hear something worth the five dollars an hour I’m paying you.”

“
Very funny,” JJ said, sitting down at the table and looking at the entrée choices. “No sweet and sour chicken?”

Mac swallowed, answering,
“Carton next to your elbow.”

Edgar sat across from JJ and filled his plate.
“Beer? My Sprite disappeared.”

“
Sorry, no. Jeff got the last one a few days ago. There’s water or more soda. Might be some bottled tea in the refrigerator in the store room.”

“
How’s your back?” JJ asked, snitching an eggroll off Edgar’s plate.

“
Not bad. My arm hurts more than my back now.”

“
Mean’s it’s healing,” Edgar advised. “You need to soak it. Epsom Salts will cure most anything.”

“
He needs to do whatever the doctor told him to do.” JJ turned to Mac. “What did he tell you to do?”

“
Solve this case and then take a vacation.”

“
Mac!”

“
Tell me what you found out at the police station.”

“
There might have been another murder associated with this thing. Theresa Crager’s babysitter, Andrea Ruel, may have been killed. She was driving Theresa’s car and the brakes failed. There was a fire.” JJ took a bite of rice. “Identified her using dental records. I’m wondering if there was any chance of a mix-up.”

Mac thought a moment.
“Are you saying the killer mixed up the two women? Or are you saying the body was misidentified? That Theresa Crager was killed in that fire?”

“
I don’t know. Maybe both. Maybe neither. And more importantly, does it matter today?”

“
The truth always matters,” Edgar interjected. “What about the baby?”

“
I don’t know about that either. The police report didn’t mention any other body in the car.”

Edgar held up a hand, using an egg roll as a pointer.
“Were they looking for another body in the wreck–a baby’s? If they thought it was the Ruel woman driving, they might not have searched for a baby.”

“
Let’s concentrate on how this all ties in with Brian Crager, Ken Edelstein, Scott Merrell, Martha Martinelli, and Bridget.”

“
Maybe the congressman is the key,” JJ suggested. “His alibi for Theresa’s disappearance was iffy.”

“
Wish we knew for sure he was the baby’s father. Rumor and fact were all tangled up in that story Martha Martinelli broke.” Mac turned to Edgar. “What did you find out? Who did Martha have dinner with at Jimmy’s the night before she died–Paul, Leo, or Josh?”

Edgar shook his head.
“Nope. None of them. Not unless somebody was in damn fine disguise. Guy she was seen with was a hundred pounds heavier and four inches shorter than any of them, and minus head hair. The waiter said he looked more like a wrestler than a Boston lawyer.”

“
Wrestler?” Mac got up from the table and went into his office. He came back with a file of newspaper clippings and a folded newspaper with a section cut out. “I picked these up in Crager’s house. He had his own file on his sister’s disappearance. Look at the clipping on top. Look anything like the guy the waiter described? This morning I got Sandler to admit he’d met with Martha the day before she died.”

Edgar took the file and stared at the photograph, dated the previous May.
“Looks about right. I’ll run it by the waiter but I’d bet money it’s him.”

“
It’s who?” JJ leaned over the table. “Read the caption to me.”

Edgar cleared his throat.
“Former Congressman Thomas Sandler attended a benefit for the Austin Boy’s Club Wrestling Team. Congressman Sandler, a member of the 1960 All State boys’ wrestling team, remembers his glory days during a recent visit to his alma mater.”

“
So Congressman Sandler.… Wow,” JJ said. “Do you think he’s–”

“
The way things are shaking out, he’s either the killer or the next victim.” Mac shook his head. “Seems like I said that before about Scott Merrell. I think maybe someone should warn the Congressman to get his heart checked.”

“
On another matter,” Mac reached over and held up the newspaper he’d picked up in the Crager house. Holding it up, he showed them where something had been cut out. “This was in Crager’s bedroom. One of you find out what’s missing.”

***

Rachel couldn’t sleep. The house was too quiet with Mac and Whiskey gone, then she’d had a telephone call from her son, which had only disturbed her further. Sam was having a great time with his girl friend and her family on the ski trip. Maybe too good a time. He was talking about bringing her home with him for the Christmas holidays. He was only a freshman, way too early in his college years for him to be getting so serious.