Evelyn David - Sullivan Investigations 02 - Murder Takes the Cake (11 page)

Mac snorted.
“You ever know Greeley to think he owed anyone anything including the time of day? Who fingered Merrell?”

“
Ask your goddaughter.” Banks checked his watch again. “Look I got to wind this up. Bottom line? The department is definitely late to this party. They were reading Bridget O’Herlihy’s stories to get investigation leads. She’s been subpoenaed by the grand jury, but the Globe got her a lawyer and she’s refusing to name her sources for the corruption story. Everyone’s looking over their shoulders trying to figure out who squealed. I’m sure Merrell wants to know too.”

Chapter 9

Rachel snapped shut her cell phone. Carrie hadn
‘t picked up either the office phone or her cell phone. Rachel hoped it meant Carrie was working in the basement of the funeral home reconciling the inventory lists she’d left, rather than that Carrie’s I-pod was blasting in her ears and she hadn’t heard the phones ringing. Or maybe she was off taking finals. So much had happened in the last few days, she’d lost track of her assistant’s schedule. Rachel had left the same message in both places: She was still in Boston; she’d be back late the following evening; and to call with any questions.

Rachel looked around the bar and saw Mac and Banks still in deep conversation. Playing
Della Street to his Perry Mason was tiresome. The only things missing were high heels, pearls, and a steno pad. She motioned to the bartender.

“
Could I get a cup of coffee? Decaf please?”

“
I’m making a fresh pot. I’ll bring you some in a minute.”

Rachel nodded and shifted around on the barstool. She was searching through her cavernous purse for some aspirin when she felt, rather than saw she had company.

“The boys still talking cop stuff?” Sally Silver, of polish-free nails, slid onto the stool next to Rachel.

Rachel thought it had been more than a few years since anyone had described Mac as a boy, but decided not to push the point.
“Your….” She wasn’t sure how to describe Sally and Will’s relationship. “Your friend needed to talk to Mac in private.”

“
Yeah, that happens a lot with Willy. I’ve learned to take long bathroom breaks whenever he and other cops are hanging out. This your first-time with a cop? How long have you and what’s his name been together?” Sally cocked her head in the direction of the men.

Rachel could feel her face flush.
“No, no. We’re not together. I mean we’re not not together. We’re.…”

“
Honey you don’t have to worry. I won’t tell his wife. I’m like a nun or something. I take secrets to my grave.” Sally laughed.

“
Oh, no, Mac’s not married. I’m not married either. I mean I was married, but I’m not married now. My ex-husband cheated on me. I would never–”

Sally nodded sympathetically and squeezed Rachel
‘s hand. “Sure, I understand.”

Rachel was pretty sure she had just been called a liar.
“No really, it’s perfectly okay if Mac and I were together, but of course, we’re not together. We’re just.…” Rachel couldn’t think how to describe her relationship any better than she had Sally’s.

“
Friends with benefits?” Sally offered helpfully.

“
No, no, no benefits at all,” Rachel stammered. “I mean we could have benefits. God I’d like some benefits. It’s been so damn long since I had a benefit.”

She knew she was babbling and didn
‘t know how to stop herself. Suddenly, she was like a river unleashed. She found herself pouring out her secrets to Sister Sally. “I met Mac a few weeks ago when my brother was accused of murder. I knew Dan wasn’t a killer, but Mac thought he was, but eventually, I convinced him…well maybe convince is too strong a word, but.…”

Rachel stopped. Sally had suddenly gone white and was staring at the front door of the bar.

“Damn, what the hell is that bitch doing here?” Sally quickly grabbed her purse and dismounted from the stool.

Rachel swiveled around in her seat and was confronted by a fire-breathing dragon. At least that was the impression she had of the woman looming over her. The smell of stale tobacco and burnt garlic permeated the woman
‘s clothes. She was probably 50, at least five-foot eight, pushing two hundred pounds, with a face pitted by acne scars. Her hair was the color of dirty dishwater with grey roots at least two inches long.

It was like a bad movie western. The room had gone still, everyone quivering in anticipation of the imminent shootout. Rachel was sure she was on the wrong side of the movie screen. She should have been sitting in the audience, munching her popcorn, instead of being between the sheriff and the outlaw. Not that she knew who was who in this scenario.

“Where is she?” the woman demanded, pushing even closer to Rachel, while Sally took cover behind her.

Rachel held her breath. The air was thick with perfume. Sally must have used every product in the White Diamond fragrance line.

“Mrs. Merrell, you don’t belong here,” Sally declared.

The woman didn
‘t blink, didn’t move. Rachel couldn’t see any way that this situation was going to end well.

“
Go home, Ilene.” Sally insisted with more bravado than Rachel imagined she had. The woman probably outweighed her two to one.

“
I’ll just.…” Rachel tried to stand, but Sally held her in place, keeping a human barricade between the two opposing sides.

“
Tell me where she is or I’ll make you sorry you ever shared a womb with that lousy twin of yours.”

“
I don’t know where Selena is and I wouldn’t tell you if I did.” Rachel noticed Sally talked big, but still made sure to keep her distance.

“
You tell me where Scott and Selena are or I’ll wring your scrawny neck until it looks like the turkey neck on my Thanksgiving table, bitch!” The woman’s voice was low and threatening, as she stepped so close Rachel could feel her hot breath on her neck.

“
Takes one to know one…bitch.” Sally was trying for bluster, but the crack in her voice suggested otherwise.

With that, Mrs. Merrell grabbed for Sally
‘s shirt, but the younger woman stepped out of her reach. Furious, Ilene Merrell grabbed Rachel and hauled her out of her seat like a rag doll, then tossed her to the floor. Rachel began crawling on her hands and knees, her goal to get as far away as possible from the rumble. She craned her neck to watch the action.

She saw Sally start to back up, but despite her size, Mrs. Merrell was fast on feet. She spun the younger woman around, pinned her to the wall, and twisted her arm behind her back like it was a pretzel

“I don’t know. I don’t know where Selena or your husband is,” Sally cried, struggling to get free.

When Mrs. Merrell twisted her arm further, Sally screamed,
“Hey, she didn’t say, I’m telling you. She needed some cash and would be going away for a while, maybe to Washington.”

Rachel suddenly remembered she never had liked
Della Street. She didn’t like waiting for the cavalry or for Mac Sullivan to show up and save the day. She stood up and decided to have a little girl talk with Mrs. Merrell, one aggrieved wife to another.

***

Will Banks had finally come to the rescue of his girlfriend. He’d separated the two women, right before Merrell added another twist to the pretzel that had formerly been Sally’s arm. For the favor, he got a hard right cross to the jaw and one to his left eye. Rachel couldn’t see which woman had thrown which punch, although they both looked enormously pleased with themselves that their punches had landed solidly on Will.

By then, the bartender had gotten involved and tossed Merrell out on the street with the threat to call the cops if she ever showed her face again. Rachel watched Merrell tighten her coat around her, and with her head held high, move up the street.

Rachel glanced around the bar. All the patrons had already gone back to their own lives. Mac was trying to get more from Sally about the missing Serena and her boyfriend. Will was in the corner, a cell phone pressed to his ear. Rachel could hear him sputtering and stammering, explaining his delay to his wife. He held a dirty dishtowel filled with ice to his jaw, moving it occasionally to his eye. From the furious glance Sally was throwing at her boyfriend, Rachel was pretty sure neither woman in Will Banks life was pleased with him that evening.

As Ilene Merrell was almost out of sight, Rachel grabbed her coat and purse and ran out the door. If there was one thing she knew, it was the fury of a woman scorned, cheated on, and left high and dry. She and Mrs. Merrell had a lot in common.

“Mrs. Merrell. Wait a minute. Just wait a minute!” Rachel hustled up the block trying to catch up with Ilene Merrell.

The cool autumn air had a snap to it, especially after the heat of the bar. Rachel put on the speed and closed the gap between she and her prey as the light turned red. Ilene Merrell had a choice. Stop and deal with Rachel; or risk being run over by an SUV intent on making a right turn.

“Mrs. Merrell, if you’ll just give me a minute of your time. I think I can help you.”

Rachel struggled to get her breath. She was more out of shape than she wanted to admit. A half block sprint shouldn
‘t have left her that breathless.

“
Who the hell are you?” The tone left no doubt Ilene Merrell was perfectly prepared to do a double twist to Rachel’s arm if the answer wasn’t the right one.

“
I’m Rachel Brenner and I’m looking for Scott Merrell too.”

The answer seemed to meet the minimum standards that permitted Rachel to live another day with her arms intact.

“You another one of his girlfriends?” Rachel couldn’t decide if that was a grin or a sneer cutting across Ilene’s face. Probably a little of both, she decided.

“
No, no. I’ve got some questions for your husband.”

“
Who doesn’t.” And that time Rachel detected a twinge of despair in Ilene’s voice.

“
You a cop or Fed?”

“
Neither. I’m a…a.…” Rachel struggled to find the right job description.

“
Private dick?” Ilene offered.

“
Sort of.” Rachel figured that it was close to the truth. “I work with one.”

“
Look, if I knew where that son-of-a-bitch of a husband of mine was, I’d tell the cops. They’re threatening to take away my house and impound my car. We’ve been separated for more than two years. The house and car are mine. I’ve been paying for both of them. Scott barely gave me money for the kids, but now the cops are saying I could lose custody of my boys if I don’t tell them where the bastard is.”

“
Believe me, Mrs. Merrell…Ilene. I know lying, cheating husbands. Mine ran off with his secretary, but not before he emptied our bank account. This week, the two of them are sipping Mojitos at Club Med in Mexico and I’m slathering makeup on corpses.”

“
What the hell are you talking about?” Ilene Merrell stepped off the curb, but the angry beep from a blue minivan, intent on making the light, made her jump back up.

Rachel shook her head, her dark curls flying in the wind.
“I work in a funeral home preparing bodies for burial.”

She could see Ilene Merrell was processing the clarification. A quick nod indicated she accepted Rachel
‘s explanation. “So how are you involved with Scott?”

Rachel offered a small smile.
“It’s a long story, but Mac Sullivan is a private investigator who helped me clear my brother of murder charges. I’m helping him on a case that involves your husband. Can you give me five minutes?”

Ilene Merrell looked at her watch.
“I’ve got to get home. My kids.…”

Rachel glanced around and saw a bus shelter with a bench behind them.
“Let’s sit down for a second. Let us help you find your husband. It helps both of us.”

Ilene Merrell glanced back at the light, then walked back to the shelter. She sat down heavily, the day seeming to catch up with her. She fumbled in her pocket and drew out a ragged pack of Marlboros. After a long drag on the cigarette, she settled back on the bench and faced Rachel.

“Scott’s off somewhere screwing that whore girlfriend of his, money falling out of his pockets, and I’m the one the cops are hassling day and night. You want to find Scott. Find Selena. Bitch isn’t going to hide out for long. She’s never been away from her manicurist more than a week.”

“
Who does Scott know in Washington, D.C.?” Rachel pressed.

“
He’s got some relatives in Bowie. Distant cousins on his mother’s side. I gave all this information to the cops. They’re church-going people.” Ilene sniffed and scrubbed her sleeve across her face. “They’re not about to put up with Scott and his whore. They came to my wedding. It was at St. Catherine’s.”

Rachel looked closer. Ilene Merrell probably was around 40. She
‘d seen a lot of hard times since she celebrated her wedding mass with Scott Merrell.

“
So why do you think he’s in Washington?”

“
I don’t,” Ilene answered. “That’s Sally talking. Maybe Selena told her that to throw off the cops if she was asked. Maybe Selena has family down there. Or maybe.…”

Rachel could see something shift in Ilene
‘s eyes, like she was remembering something important.

“
I’ll make you a deal,” Rachel offered. “You tell me what Scott Merrell is looking for in Washington, D.C. and I’ll.…”