A Wedding and a Killing (9 page)

Bogie’s smile dropped. “That’s not funny, Mac.” He pounded the welcome counter with his fist. “Carmine was one of Eugene and Marilyn’s closest friends.”

Mac shrugged. “He came in on his own, brought us cannoli and Gnarly dog biscuits, and then marched into the interrogation room and started confessing. He may lock himself in a cell before we can figure out what’s going on.”

“Well, I’m going to go get to the bottom of this right now.” Bogie was halfway across the squad room before he stopped and turned back to Mac. “Where’s the cannoli?”

“Break room.”

“Thanks,” Bogie huffed. “I should maybe go check that out first. We can’t be too careful.”

“We do need to examine all of the evidence.” Mac grinned when he saw Bogie turn into the break room. He picked up the phone to punch in Reverend Deborah Hess’s phone number when the door opened again and Chase Hess, the reverend’s teenage son, stepped up to the reception desk.

“Detective Faraday …” Chase said in a formal manner. “I don’t know if you remember me from yesterday …”

“You’re Reverend Hess’s son.” Mac put the receiver back on the phone’s base.

“Chase,” he replied with a nod of his head. “We live next door to the church building in the parsonage … my mom and me.”

“Yes, I remember,” Mac said. “What can I do for you?”

“Well,” Chase glanced around, “if you’re busy …”

“No, I have time,” Mac said. “I was just calling your mother as a matter of fact.”

The color drained from the teenager’s face. His eyes widened with fear. “Why were you calling her? Did you find out something?”

“We had some questions for her.” Cocking his head, Mac studied the concern that filled the young man’s face. He reminded Mac of his own son Tristan, a college student studying natural science at George Washington University. Chase appeared equally serious and well-mannered. “How can I help you?”

Chase sucked in a deep breath before rattling off his announcement. “Sir, I’ve come to turn myself in.”

Mac blinked. “Turn yourself in? For what?”

“Murdering Eugene Newton.”

“Really?”

Chase nodded his head. “Yes, I decided that it was best for everyone if I do that.” Looking around the police department, he asked, “You know this police station is much smaller than the ones you see on television. Where’re are all the cops?”

“They’re all out protecting our citizens from bad guys.”

Holding a cannoli in her hand, Tonya stepped out into the hallway and called out to the reception area, “Hey, Mac, if you and David want any of these cannoli you better get in here. Bogie’s going to eat them all.”

Mac hung his head. “Chase, why did you kill Eugene Newton?”

“Because I’m crazy.” Chase’s eyes grew wide. “That’s right. I’m criminally insane. I’m a danger to all of society and need to be locked up right away.”

What in the world?

Seeing Mac’s stunned silence, Chase said, “If this isn’t a convenient time for you to lock me up to protect society, I can wait until after you eat your cannoli.”

Mac cocked his head at him. “You’re criminally insane?”

“Sure. I’ll prove it to you. Give me a psyche exam and I’ll flunk it.”

In the interrogation room, David asked the oversized restaurant-owner why he killed Eugene Newton, a man who by all accounts was one of his closest friends.

“The mob hired me to do it,” Carmine said in a loud whisper.

“The mob?” David repeated. “Eugene’s murder was a mob hit?” A doubtful as he was about the truth of Carmine’s confession, the police chief was intrigue enough to want to hear it.

Gesturing with his hands for David to keep his voice down, Carmine continued in a low voice, “Eugene had a plumbing business here on the lake for like thirty years until he sold the business and retired about eight years ago or so. Marilyn had inherited a boatload of money from her folks and they moved into a house on the lake.” He asked the police chief, “Well, have you ever heard of the Italian mob?”

“I have seen
The Godfather,
” David replied.

“The mob laundered their illegally obtained money through Eugene’s business—”

“Which was plumbing … here on Deep Creak Lake?”

Carmine nodded his head. “And so Eugene learned a lot of their secrets.”

David squinted at Carmine in an effort to make sense of how a savvy organized crime family could effectively launder its dirty money through a small-time plumber in a rural lakeside resort area.

Carmine plunged forward. “Eugene knew where all the bodies were buried. He was a dangerous liability. So they decided—” He made a slashing gesture across his throat. “They called me to whack him. I spent a lot of time getting close to him so that he could trust me and I could get close enough to kill him.”

“Twenty years according to what you told me yesterday,” David said.

“You can’t rush these things,” Carmine said. “I’m an artist.”

David was doubtful. “Why did the mob call you?”

“Because I’m one of their top assassins. Like I said. I’m an artist.”

Unsuccessfully, David fought the smile and laughter that came to his face.

“What?” Carmine sat up in his seat. “You don’t believe me? You think just because I’m not a tall, slender, dark, handsome Italian with six-pack abs that I can’t be a lethal, highly paid hit man?”

Literally wiping the grin from his face, David asked him, “How many hits have you done for the mob, Carmine?”

“I lost count,” Carmine said.

“Tell me about your first hit,” David asked.

“Have you ever heard of Jimmy Hoffa?”

David stood up and headed for the door.

“You don’t believe me?” Carmine called out with a plea in his tone.

David whirled back to him. “Carmine, how old are you?”

“Fifty.”

“Jimmy Hoffa disappeared in the nineteen-seventies,” David said. “You would have been ten years old when you killed him.”

“Would you believe I was a child prodigy?”

David stepped out into the corridor to find Mac coming toward him. “We’re running out of interrogation rooms.” With a jerk of his thumb, Mac gestured at the door on the other end of the hallway. “Chase Hess is in the next room insisting he killed Eugene Newton.”

“Why?” David asked.

“Because he’s insane,” Mac replied. “He wants to take a psyche exam to prove it. What excuse is Carmine using?”

“Because he’s a highly trained assassin sent by the mob to kill Eugene in order to protect their secrets,” David said.

“Which goes to prove that the younger generations lack imagination and creativity,” Mac said.

“I don’t believe either one,” the police chief said.

“They’re protecting someone,” Mac said.

Tonya stepped into the end of the corridor. “You two must be running a special on confessions.” She tossed her head in the direction of the reception area behind her. “We have a young lady at the front desk wanting to make a confession to murder. Her name is Natalie Buchanan.”

“That does it.” Mac turned to David. “I know who they’re protecting.” He turned back to Tonya. “Have we gotten the results back on the fingerprints that forensics collected from the church staff?”

“Not yet,” Tonya said.

“Have Natalie take a seat in the waiting room,” Mac said. “Then use the phone in Bogie’s office to call the crime lab to ask them to put a rush on Ruth Buchanan’s prints.”

“Why Ruth’s?” David said. “I would think they would be protecting Deborah. Chase is her son.”

“But he’s sweet on Natalie,” Mac said. “Ruth was upset when you ordered that everyone be fingerprinted. Deborah was upset, but out of concern for her friend.”

Tonya came back down the hallway. “Call was coming in when I went back to the desk,” she said in a low tone. “Ruth Buchanan’s prints brought up a flag all right. She’s wanted for a murder in New York.”

Chapter Eight

“Will I ever get to the point where nothing will surprise me?” David glanced across the front compartment of his cruiser to Mac, who was engaged in sending a text message. He searched for a sign that the seasoned homicide detective had been surprised by the discovery that the mild-mannered cleaning woman was a killer. Unable to detect any, he re-directed his focus back to the twisting lakeshore road.

“We don’t know her story yet.” Mac pressed the send button before setting the phone back in his lap. “All we know is what was on the outstanding warrant. Those fingerprints belong to a Scarlett Fairbanks, who is wanted for the murder of her husband, Jason Fairbanks, seven years ago.” He scanned the contents of the report that they had printed up from the police database. “It says here that her prints were in the system from when she had abducted her daughter before in a custody dispute while she and her husband were separated. Those charges were dropped after she and her husband reconciled.”

“So that she could kill him.”

“And run away to live her dream of cleaning toilets,” Mac said while checking a text that came in on his phone. “Three people came into the police department to confess to murder to protect this woman. That tells me that she’s not your average gold-digger.”

“She’s a church lady.” David spun the steering wheel to turn into the church parking lot. “They can be worse.”

“My adoptive mother was a church lady,” Mac said with a warning in his tone. “I grew up with church ladies and nuns and all that. Yes, there were a few like Helga Thorpe but, truthfully, church ladies like her are the exception to the rule.”

“That may be your experience, but not mine.” David put the cruiser into park.

“What’s your experience? Did you get ruler-whipped by a nun?”

David leaned across the console to say in a firm tone. “Repeatedly slapped in the back of the head by a big-ole church woman in a flower dress.”

“Why’d she head-slap you?”

Silently, David glared at him.

Not receiving an answer, Mac said, “I’m waiting.”

“I gave her son a bloody nose.” David opened the car door and slid out.

“Why?” Curious to learn more, Mac jumped out of the cruiser to follow David up to the main entrance.

“He deserved it,” David said. “It was the one and only time I did Vacation Bible School.” His eyes widened when he recalled, “Robin Spencer signed me up for it.” As if to take out his pent up frustration, he turned around to poke Mac in the chest. “Your mother.”

Clutching the spot where David had poked him, Mac laughed. “I had nothing to do with that. I wasn’t even here then.”

“Anyway this little jerk, Robbie Collins, provoked me, so I punched him in the nose,” David said. “Then, his big-ole church-lady mother came swooping in a like a grizzly bear and head slapped me.” He added in a low voice, “Ever since then, church ladies scare the hell out of me.”

With a chuckle, Mac asked, “What did the jerk do to deserve a bloody nose?”

“Can’t remember.” David shot over his shoulder before throwing open the front door to step inside the church.

“That one time that you went to Vacation Bible School,” Mac asked, “did they cover the topic of forgiveness?”

Inside the foyer, David whirled around to reply, “I forgave the old biddie.”

Wiping tears from her face with a tissue, Edna came out of her office to meet them. She was wearing a phone earpiece. “Hello, Mac … Chief O’Callaghan.” She cast her teary eyes in Mac’s direction. The corners of her lips curled in a weak attempt at a smile. “I just got off the phone with Archie.”

David turned to Mac. “Archie?”

“Are they in the sanctuary?” Mac asked Edna.

“Yes.” She gestured across the fellowship hall. “You can go on in.”

Mac led the way to the sanctuary.

“You’re up to something,” David told him.

Mac fought the grin working its way to his lips. “Yeah, I’m setting you up to be ambushed by a herd of church ladies gone wild.”

Through the glass doors, they saw Reverend Deborah Hess stand up from where she was sitting next to Ruth in the front row. Ruth had a cell phone pressed to her ear.

Her long summer dress flowing behind her, the pastor hurried up the aisle to meet Mac and David when they came in. “Good morning, gentlemen.”

“Good morning, Reverend,” David said. “I’m sorry for our reason for meeting again today.”

Deborah sucked in a deep breath. “So am I.”

“I wish Ms. Buchanan, or rather Fairbanks, had told us about her circumstance yesterday,” David said. “It’d be less unpleasant.”

Up in the front row, Mac saw that Ruth was speaking quietly on her cell phone.

“I have always been an advocate for the truth, Chief O’Callaghan,” Deborah said. “We didn’t hide anything from you, I assure you. We just prayed that this tragedy would have ended with Eugene’s murder—which I assure you has nothing to do with Ruth’s situation—”

“Are you sure of that?” David said. “Maybe Eugene found out that she was wanted for murder and threatened—”

“Eugene had no idea,” Deborah said. “None of us did. I only just now found out about the arrest warrant.”

“You’re Ruth Buchanan’s employer,” David said. “Are you telling me that you had no idea that her identity was phony?”

Deborah narrowed her eyes.

“Chief O’Callaghan is not the enemy here,” Mac said. “He’s got a job that he has to do and sometimes his duties end up putting him in the middle. If Ruth had told us about her situation yesterday, Chief O’Callaghan could have taken action then to—”

“There’s a warrant out for her arrest for killing her husband,” the reverend said. “He would have arrested her yesterday if she told him.”

“True,” David said. “But it would have looked better for her.”

“What Chief O’Callaghan is saying,” Mac said in a firm tone, “is that as the chief of police, he is obligated by his sworn duty to respect the arrest warrant and take Ruth into custody.”

“Just like I have my duties as a church pastor,” Deborah said, “and I answer to a higher authority than you two men do.”

“You’re playing the God card?” David chuckled.

“Yes,” Deborah answered. “Chief O’Callaghan, you are in a place of sanctuary and, as pastor of this church, I’m granting Ruth Buchanan, aka Scarlett Fairbanks, safe haven. You cannot arrest her as long as she is here in this church.”

David’s brows furrowed when he turned to Mac. Behind him, he noticed that Edna had slipped into the sanctuary. She held the door open for him to leave.

In the front row of seats, Ruth turned around to face them. She still clutched the cell phone in her hand. “Mac, Ed Willingham wants to talk to you.”

“Sanctuary? Safe haven?” David murmured before turning to Mac. “You did this. You called Archie before we left the station so that she could warn them to get Ruth here in the sanctuary so that we can’t arrest her.” His voice grew louder. “Then you got them in touch with your lawyer to defend her? Whose side are you on?”

“You asked me if I have ever run into a case like this before,” Mac said. “My answer is no. I’m curious to learn the facts before we take her into custody.”

While Mac went down the aisle to retrieve Ruth’s cell phone, David told Deborah, “Ms. Buchanan can’t seek safe haven in this church forever. She has to leave eventually and when she does, my officers will be waiting and she will be taken into custody. By doing this, she is only delaying the inevitable and it won’t look good at her trial.”

Deborah’s voice was calm. “I know that, Chief. But in the meantime, she will be safe and we will get the time we need for Mr. Faraday and his lawyer to find out the truth. Ruth is a devoted Christian—a loving mother who will do anything to protect her child. She deserves justice.”

“And what about the man she’s accused of killing?” David asked. “Doesn’t he deserve justice? He was Natalie’s father.”

“He was also a wife and child beater,” Deborah said. “They ran away because they feared for their lives.”

“Ruth could have called the police.”

“She
did
and they did
nothing
.” Gradually, the calm slipped from Deborah’s tone. “She even pressed charges and insisted on testifying and her husband never saw a day in court. When Ruth ran away the first time, she was arrested.” Forcibly, she told him, “Take a look at the case, Chief O’Callaghan. Read between the lines. Ruth killed her husband to protect herself and her child. She’s a good woman.”

With his options exhausted, David brushed past Edna and through the glass doors to leave. On his way out of the church building, he radioed in to have two of his officers come to the church to keep watch for when Ruth Buchanan left the building so they could take her into custody. She had to leave eventually. In the meantime, he would have Ben Fleming, the county prosecutor work in the courts to order her arrest.

“Ed, you’re on speaker phone,” Mac said. “David has left the building. He’s going to be calling his officers to stake out the church for when Ruth leaves. I guarantee they’ll arrest her as soon as she sets foot outside.”

Quickly, he said a silent prayer that David would forgive him for what had to look like a betrayal.

The smooth voice of the high-powered lawyer came out of the speaker to instruct Mac, Ruth, Edna, and Deborah. “That’s okay, Mac. We’re not planning to camp out in the sanctuary for the long haul. We’re just looking to buy some time for me to get the details on this case so that we can proceed as painlessly as possible. Archie is doing her thing to get as much background and evidence that we can use to our advantage about the Fairbanks family in New York.”

“The Fairbanks owned that whole county,” Ruth said, “including the sheriff and prosecutor. I mean literally. My father-in-law owned them. He used to brag about how many mortgages he had bought of the homes and businesses of some of the most influential people in the area. If they ticked him off, he could foreclose on their home.” She choked on a sob. “I was in the hospital nine times during our marriage due to Jason’s beating on me. He broke Natalie—I mean Holly’s arm—twisted it until it broke. Her ER doctor filed a report against Jason and was going to testify against him. Reese bought the mortgage on that doctor’s parents’ house, which they were only a year from paying off, and threatened to throw them out on the street if he testified.” Tears ran down her cheeks. “That’s what we’re up against.”

“Did you kill your husband?” Mac asked her.

Wordlessly, Ruth hung her head. Deborah and Edna sat on either side of her and wrapped their arms around her into a group hug.

“But it had to be self-defense,” Edna said.

“Yes,” Ruth said. “I still, to this day, can’t believe I killed him.”

“Tell us what happened,” Mac said.

“Wait a minute, Mac,” Willingham’s voice broke through the phone, “you’re working for the police. For her to tell you what happened, you could be accused of conflict of interest.”

“Willingham,” Mac said, “I had Archie call you. I can’t help you if I don’t know the facts.”

“You can’t help us if you are ordered by a judge to testify as a hostile witness,” the lawyer countered.

“What if I work for you?” Mac asked. “Don’t you need a private investigator to work on this case? I work for the police department on contract. Case by case basis. Suppose you hired me for this case? Then, can I be ordered to testify for the prosecution?”

While the women sitting in front of Mac held their breath, they listened to silence from the cell phone until Willingham replied, “That might work. How much will you charge me to work on contract?”

“Does one dollar a day plus expenses sound fair?”

Ruth’s, Deborah’s, and Edna’s heads jerked up.

“A dollar?” Willingham replied with a sigh. “I guess I can swing that.” Considering that Edward Willingham was one of the highest paid attorneys in the country, it was a safe bet that he could afford to pay Mac Faraday a dollar a day.

“I’m sure you can. I’ll take it out of next month’s retainer.” Sitting down on the steps leading up to the pulpit, Mac nodded his head at Ruth. “Tell us what happened.”