Twelve to Murder (A Mac Faraday Mystery) (4 page)

Fighting the urge to get up and run away from the conversation, Mac shifted in his seat. Reaching over the back of the chair, David grasped his arm as if to hold him there to hear what he had to say. Mac turned. They locked eyes.

“Listen, Mac, I can’t tell you what to do. You already know Archie is the best woman any man could ever want, and you are damn lucky that you’re the one she’s fallen in love with. I can’t tell you whether to marry her or to leave her. You’re the only one who can answer that. The answer to that lies in the answer to this one question.” He held up a finger in front of Mac’s eyes. “What’s stronger? You’re
love
, or your
fear?”

Staring into David’s eyes, Mac picked up a hint of intensity, a sense that he knew this topic intimately. “Are you talking from experience?”

David let out a hollow laugh before answering, “Do you know why Yvonne took that network job and moved away?”

“Your fear outweighed your love for her?”

Releasing Mac’s arm, David stood up. “I’ve got to go put out that BOLO on Frost.” He turned the chair around to return it to its proper place.

“Any regrets?”

“I’m with Chelsea,” David said, “and Yvonne is married to some rich dude and living in Connecticut. We’re both where we belong.” He patted Mac on the shoulder. “I need to go put out this notice to be on the lookout for Frost.” He hurried out to issue the order to police dispatch.

Mac picked up his cell phone to call Archie. The background on his phone was a picture of her in the rose garden at the manor. Her pretty face was surrounded by rosy blooms. She looked like a wood nymph—his wood nymph.                    Tonya came into the squad room. “Gnarly is out cold,” she said. “We’ve got a visitor out front and his nose hasn’t even twitched.” She placed a business card in the center of Mac’s desk for him to read. “Where’s the chief?”

Mac turned off the phone and returned it to the case on his belt. “Putting out a BOLO on Lenny Frost.” He picked up the card to read the name. “Who’s Zachery Harris?”

“A writer. He claims to have information about the Stillman murders.”

“Send him in.” Mac clipped the business card to his notepad and picked up a pen. “Tell David. He’s going to want to join us.”

“Sure thing, Mac.” She turned on her heels before he stopped her.

“Can you do me a favor, Tonya?”

She turned back to him with a wide grin on her face. “Anything for you, hon.”

Mac’s cheeks felt warm when he asked, “Can you call the florist and have them send a dozen… no, make it twelve dozen long-stemmed white roses to Archie at the manor today? I have an account there already.”

“White
roses?”

“White,” Mac said.

“That must have been some fight,” Tonya said. “If I were you, I’d send a box of chocolates, too.”

A grin crept to Mac’s lips. “If you think she should get chocolates, order them. Order a box for yourself, too, and put it on my account.”

“You don’t have to offer that twice,” Tonya said. “What do you want the note to say?”

“See you tonight.”

“Do you want me to dog sit?” Tonya asked.

“Nah, I’ll send Gnarly to Chelsea’s place,” Mac said. “Let Gnarly spend the night with his other girlfriend.”

“Molly’s going to smell Lady Tala on him and she’s going to be ma-ad.”

“They’re
dogs.”

“I’m just saying…” Shaking her hand, Tonya waved both of her hands. “Once Molly gets a whiff of another dog on her man, there’s going to be big trouble in paradise.”

“Gnarly’s a German shepherd,” Mac said. “He can handle it.”

Zachery Harris looked like the stereotype of a writer: slender with shaggy hair in need of a haircut and glasses on a thin face. He had the look down to his baggy khaki slacks, button-down shirt, and a corduroy sports coat with patches on the elbows.

When Mac stepped into the interview room, Zachery had his recorder resting in the middle of the table and his notepad out. After closing the door, Mac turned off the machine.
“I’m
interviewing
you
, not the other way around.”

“Actually, this is for my protection.” Zachery reached for the device, only to have Mac move it out of his reach.

“I’ll give this to you when we’re done.” Mac set the recorder aside and sat across from him. Tapping his pen on the notepad, Mac sat back to regard the writer. It was a coin toss as to whether he had information to give them about the murders or was seeking it for himself. Mac guessed that if the writer had anything to offer, it wasn’t much. It was too soon. The media didn’t have enough details, even by way of rumors, to generate tips from the public. “You told the desk sergeant that you had information about the Stillman murders.”

“I have a boatload of stuff for you,” Zachery said.

“How is that?”

“Janice Stillman used to be Lenny Frost’s agent back in Hollywood,” Zachery said. “She was the one who got him that movie that won him the Oscar. She made him the teen idol of the nineties.”

“I know all that,” Mac said. “Now tell me something we don’t know.”

“Why he killed her,” Zachery said.

In all his years of being a police detective, Mac had become an expert at keeping a poker face in order to not betray his emotions.

It’s easier to control an interview or interrogation when the witness or suspect has no idea if the detective believes or is doubtful of what he’s hearing. Keeping your body posture and face void of emotion keeps the subject on edge so that he doesn’t know which direction to go in the interview to achieve his objective.

Even with the announcement that Zachery knew the motive for the Stillman’s murder, Mac kept his face blank. “Why do you think Lenny Frost killed his former agent?”

“He did, didn’t he?” Zachery was practically panting for Mac to confirm his suspicion.

“If you have information about these murders and you don’t tell us what you know, then you can be arrested for obstruction of justice and impeding an investigation,” Mac said. “So don’t sit there asking me questions. I’m asking the questions. You’re answering them. Now, why do you think Lenny Frost killed Janice Stillman and her husband?”

“Because she had him kidnapped and held captive for four days for a million-dollar ransom from the studio.”

“She had her star client abducted?” Mac asked.

With a smirk, Zachery said, “How do you think the Stillmans got the money for her husband to set up that public relations firm like two years after the kidnapping? And how would she have had the money to buy that club where Lenny worked for her? It’s blood money that came from Lenny’s blood and sweat.”

“She engineered his kidnapping?” Mac asked.

“Are you familiar with Lenny Frost’s kidnapping?” Zachery asked.

“Fill me in.”

“It’s all in my book.” Zachery reached into the valise he had set next to his chair and whipped out a hardback book with a picture of a handsome teenaged young man with fiery red hair on the cover. The title read:
Kidnapped: The True Story of the Lenny Frost Abduction.
He slapped the book down on the tabletop. “Read it.”

Mac set the book aside. “Give it to me in bullets.”

“Lenny was fifteen when he got the starring role in that television show and made all of the teen magazine covers overnight,” Zachery said. “From child movie star in the eighties to teen idol of the nineties.”

“Were you a fan?” Mac wondered if this writer had been obsessed with Frost.
Why was he so passionate about this case? Why wasn’t he writing about current events or important cases? Kidnapped teen stars?

“Kind of.” Zachery plunged ahead. “Two years later, Lenny was snatched while out partying with his friends—Derrick Stillman being one of them. One minute he was drinking and dancing, and the next minute he was gone. The studio paid the ransom, and after the ransom was paid, Lenny called the police from a cabin in the hills. Lenny identified Carson Drake, his assistant on the crew of his show—”

“I thought Drake was an actor,” Mac said.

“So you are familiar with the case.” The corners of Harris’s lips curled. “It’s all in the book. The whole truth about how it happened.” He slid the book toward the detective.

Mac continued to ignore it. “Tell me.”

“Drake had a family to feed,” Harris said. “Between jobs he would work on the crew of Lenny’s show. Drake was Frost’s assistant. They became friends. He trusted Lenny…and Janice Stillman.”

“I’m assuming his trust was misplaced.”

“You’d be surprised by how they manipulated him,” the writer said in a whispered tone that sounded like the two of them were hatching a conspiracy. He inched the book closer to Mac’s elbow. “The way I laid it out, you’ll think, ‘How could someone be that gullible?’ Truth is, when you want something badly enough, whether it be success, fame, or even revenge, you’d be surprised by how blind you can be to the truth.” He flashed Mac a grin. “Or to what lengths you would go for revenge after being the victim of said manipulation.”

Mac finally picked up the book. “Is that the purpose behind your book, Harris? Revenge?”

“I consider it justice.” Harris took the book and Mac’s pen from his hand. “Consider this yours to keep. Read it. You will find it enlightening.”

“I’d still prefer you told me the condensed version.”

“I’ll be more than happy to give you the highlights, but you’ll still need to read the book to get the full story.” After signing the inside front cover, Harris slid the book back across the table to Mac. “After the kidnapping, neither Carson Drake nor the million-dollar ransom was ever found. Lenny told the police that he was in a drugged state most of the time, but he heard Drake on the phone telling someone that he had the money and setting up a meeting to split it. His partner, someone on the inside, had plane tickets, and they were going to go their separate ways.”

“Why do you think the Stillmans were the ones on the inside?” Mac asked.

“Carson’s widow told friends and the police that she thought her husband was away on location for an acting gig,” Zachery said. “She was a model and actress. Of course, after the kidnapping, her career was over. Less than a year later, she went missing. Her body was found in an abandoned warehouse used for trendy drug parties by Hollywood brat-pack types. She had been tortured and killed. Detectives claimed she was killed by drug dealers who Drake used to work for.”

“Did he owe them money?” Mac asked.

“It’s all in the book.”

“I’d rather you told me. That could be a strong motive for kidnapping Lenny Frost and holding him for ransom,” Mac pointed out. “He kidnapped Lenny for ransom to pay off the drug dealers, but then, when he got all that cash in hand, he decided to take the money and run and left his wife to pay with her life.”

Harris jerked up in his seat. “Carson Drake would never have abandoned his wife or his children. The only way he would have not come back was if he were dead. Someone killed him.” The writer tapped the top of the conference table when he said, “Drake told his wife that after this job on location Janice Stillman had agreed to represent both of them. Why would he say that if he didn’t have an in with her—like helping her commit a major crime? Then, once his usefulness was over, she had him killed. She took the money and ran.”

Mac scratched his temple and shook his head in disbelief. “Why would Stillman have her star client abducted?”

“Janice Stillman had been in the business her whole adult life,” Zachery said. “She knew the drill. These teen idols last two to three years and then the next generation of fans go to the new face. Lenny was two years in and heavy into the party scene, drugs, and women. He was starting to have trouble on the set. The producers were giving Stillman warnings that if Lenny didn’t get his act together, he was going to be out. Stillman saw that Lenny wasn’t going to move into bigger roles. He was too unpredictable and inconsistent. Once the show was canceled, his career would be over. Everyone could see the writing on the wall. While Lenny still had some star power, she decided to make a big splash and possibly get him some new publicity at the same time. She had him kidnapped to collect an added bonus from the studio.”

“Good theory,” Mac said. “Prove it.”

“Read the book and you’ll see that I prove it. When they found Lenny, he was taken to the hospital to get checked over,” Zachery said. “I have statements from nurses and doctors at the hospital. Janice Stillman was raising Cain to have him released as soon as possible.” He pounded the tabletop with his finger. “But when he was finally released, do you know where she took him?”

“Where?”

“Not home to his house where he lived with his parents,” Zachery said with a shake of his head. “Her house. The Stillman house. Lenny’s parents said that even though he was their kid, they didn’t see him until three days after that.” The corners of his lips curled. “They’re both dead now, but they told more than one reporter that Janice Stillman brainwashed Lenny to turn him against them. She whisked him home to her house to drill him about what he may have seen and heard while Drake had him drugged…as though maybe he remembered her killing Drake. She only let him back out in public after she was sure it was safe.”

“Do you have proof about any of this?” Mac asked. He had to admit that it all made for a very interesting story.

“A year and a half after the kidnapping,” Zachery said, “the studio canceled the show. No big surprise for anyone there. Lenny’s flame was going out. Janice dumped Lenny and moved east where she and her husband had the money for a big house in McLean, Virginia, a stone’s throw from the Kennedys. Set her hubby up in business and bought herself a fancy club. Where did that money come from? They said she inherited it from a rich aunt.” He scoffed. “Give me a break.”

Shaking his head to comprehend what the writer was telling him, Mac scooted the chair in closer to the table and folded his hands on the tabletop. “That’s pretty circumstantial. Why, after all these years, would Lenny suddenly kill her for revenge?”

With his fingertip, Zachery tapped the book resting at Mac’s elbow. “Because in my book I laid out how she and her husband were the masterminds.” He laughed. “The Stillmans filed a defamation of character suit against me, but they backed down when they saw all the evidence I had collected.” With a smug grin, he folded his arms across his chest. “Then Lenny contacted me. We had a long talk. Things were starting to click together in his mind.”

“What things?” Mac asked him.

“Like how this woman who was supposed to be like a second mother to him used him just like everyone else in his life…and he never even saw it coming.”

Mac sat back in his seat to study Harris, who was peering back at him with a smirk on his lips. “When did this conversation take place?”

“One week ago.”

There was a knock on the door.

“Give me a minute.” Mac stood up from the table.

David had the door open for Mac to step into the hallway. “We found Lenny Frost. He’s at a lakeside pub in McHenry, only four miles from the murder scene.”

“Good,” Mac replied.

“No, bad,” David said. “He’s holding a bunch of people hostage and wants to talk to Mickey Forsythe.”