Malichai’s head jerked up. He was truly shocked. Ezekiel just wasn’t like that. He kept a cool head. He was a doctor, a surgeon. A damn good one too. He didn’t just swear. This man was really getting to him. As prisoners they had to interrogate, Henry Shevfield seemed easy. He just answered, certain, because he was wearing a hood, that they would let him go. He didn’t mind answering because there was no proof to back up any allegations they might make against him to the authorities. Besides, the jobs had been completed.
Henry pressed his lips together tightly. He had to have heard the danger in Ezekiel’s voice.
“The recent killings, Anna and Bryon Cooper, tourists staying at the bed-and-breakfast. Did you have anything to do with those killings?”
“No way. Sloppy job.” He sounded contemptuous. “The cops already are suspicious, I could tell when I was watching them examining the crime scene. Whoever wanted it done should have asked me.”
There was a long silence, as if Ezekiel were trying to pull himself together. When he did speak, his voice was under control. “Any other jobs asked of you by these two customers?” he pressed.
Henry hesitated for the first time and Ezekiel exploded into action, backhanding the prisoner so hard, the chair went flying backward, proving his control had been a sham. There was no way for Henry to stop his fall and he landed hard on the cement floor of the garage. Trap and Mordichai righted the chair and prisoner while Ezekiel paced across the garage, trying to get rid of the adrenaline pounding through his veins—a direct reaction to Henry’s sociopathic behavior.
Do you want me to take over? Malichai asked tentatively. He didn’t want Ezekiel to think he thought his brother was losing it and couldn’t finish the interview.
No, I’m all right. It’s just that he’s so casual about killing a woman with a family, or shoving an older man down the stairs as if that man were trash. People like this man . . .
I get it, Malichai assured. And he did. They saw so many good soldiers die. Sometimes, when they went on a rescue, it seemed like they saw nothing but body parts or dead soldiers. They go to a beautiful place like San Diego and some man runs around killing for hire. He wanted to take a shot or two with his fists at the prisoner as well.
Thanks for the offer.
That surprised Malichai. His brother had never been one to express affection or the small niceties. Bellisia, his wife, must be having a positive effect on him. Malichai wasn’t going to mention that either.
“Let’s try this again,” Ezekiel said very patiently. “I’m sure you realize I am an experienced interrogator and I am not going to be happy anytime you think about lying to me. It isn’t a good idea. Just continue to tell the truth and you’ll be fine. If not, you’re a dead man and you’ll never get out of this room.”
The head bobbing went on once again.
“Do you have another contract with these same people?”
“Yes.” Henry mumbled his answer, sounding completely dejected.
“Who is the contract for?”
Henry shrugged. “It’s not exactly that kind of contract. This is more like a diversion. At least they used that word once. I’m to kill three people in a ‘messy’ way and start their bed-and-breakfast on fire. The more people are panicked, the better.”
Malichai straightened again, this time stalking silently toward the prisoner. “Bed-and-breakfast” was a red flag. The way Henry said “three people” bothered the hell out of him.
“Random three people or specific three people?” Ezekiel persisted.
“Three females. The B and B owner, her kid and the main worker there. Do them in a nasty way that brings a million cops and detectives and then once everyone’s inside, start one hell of a fire. Pull in the rest of them. Like I say, a diversion of some kind.”
“A kid?” Ezekiel echoed. “As in a little girl? You don’t mind killing a child?”
“It’s just business. I don’t pick them. Someone else is responsible for that.”
As he answered Ezekiel, Henry had been loosening his bonds. He ripped off the hood and leapt at Ezekiel at the same time. Ezekiel seemed to be waiting for him. As the man’s body slammed hard into Zeke’s, the knife Malichai’s brother was holding low, blade up, went right into the prisoner. It sank in and, almost on reflex, Ezekiel twisted it. He stepped back as he pulled the blade free.
Henry went to his knees and then fell facedown. He lay there without a sound.
“Guess I should have checked those ties after he was on the ground,” Ezekiel said.
“Hope that made you feel better,” Malichai said. “We needed to get a lot more out of him. I noticed you just happened to have a tarp and plastic down to cover the cement.”
Ezekiel shrugged. “It sucks trying to get blood out of cement. It was a precaution.”
“I’ll just bet it was,” Malichai said. Had he done the same thing, Ezekiel would lecture him for a week. “How are you going to explain to the cops what went on here?”
“Military investigation suddenly running into a civilian one. I’ll report the dead guy to Joe and he’ll have to give the news to Major General,” Ezekiel said.
“I’ll leave you to it. I need to get back to Amaryllis.” He was definitely running like a chicken, but he wasn’t going to answer any of Ezekiel’s questions about his woman and why he hadn’t reported right away that she was one of Whitney’s orphans.
Ezekiel hissed something derogatory about his parents, but since they weren’t the nicest of people, and they shared them, Malichai didn’t mind. It didn’t even slow him down. He got out of the danger zone and back into the street, trying not to laugh at his brother’s annoyance.
9
I just don’t understand what’s going on,” Lorrie Montclair said, shivering, moving her body close to Malichai as if for protection. “Lexie wanted to leave, but Linda and I said that wouldn’t be right. And the murder didn’t occur here.”
“It could have,” Lexie said stubbornly. “It could have, right, Mr. Fortunes?” She batted her eyelashes at him.
Before he could answer, Linda jumped into the conversation. “Lexie, honey, what about Marie losing all that money? It’s not like she could get anyone else in at this late date. Isn’t that right, Mr. Fortunes?”
“Call me Malichai,” he said, trying not to grit his teeth. He felt like he wanted to scream. He’d rather be skinned alive than talk to the trio of sisters. Talking to the Montclair women was a little like attending a Ping-Pong tournament.
“Please sit with us tonight,” Lorrie added, looking up at him with what, he was certain, she thought was a vulnerable, frightened face.
Malichai saw a wolf in lamb’s clothing. His woman needed protection from these three. Most likely, he did as well.
“I’m so frightened. So is Lexie. We need to know what’s going on.”
He looked helplessly up at Amaryllis as she stood behind the counter, serving the main course to everyone—the main course she’d prepared. The food was always made with the best ingredients and whatever else she put into it that made the dishes taste amazing.
Amaryllis hid a smile, but it was impossible to hide the lights dancing in her eyes. She was having just a little too much fun at his expense. “Actually, Malichai, I think Lorrie has a very good idea. If you sit with them, you can explain everything to them and alleviate their worries.” She flashed another reassuring smile at the three women. “Malichai did speak at length with the detectives, so he can answer any of your questions,” she added.
He sent her a look that promised retaliation but obediently took his plate and followed the three women to the tables. He noticed the talk was rather subdued as he moved through the dining room to get to the table the sisters considered “theirs.” They’d taken over that particular table almost immediately and glared at anyone who dared to try to sit there. It was empty and the women put their plates down, Lor
rie scooting her chair as close to Malichai’s as she could without sitting in his lap.
“Are you dating Amaryllis?” Linda asked abruptly.
“She’s my fiancée,” he said, feeling a little desperate, but more than happy to claim his woman for protection.
“What?” Lorrie pulled back in her chair, glaring at Amaryllis, who was busy talking to Tania and Tommy Leven.
Malichai tried not to fixate on Amaryllis’s smile. She had a beautiful smile. He wished he was there right next to her, or even out in the jungle with a million ants and termites crawling all over him—anywhere but at the table with the three sisters who looked like they would prefer to eat him rather than the delicious barbecued honeyed ribs and grilled corn on the cob.
“You’re engaged?” Lexie demanded. “I had no idea. None of us did.”
“Why would you know?” Malichai asked, picking up a rib, uncertain if one cut it up in polite company. He didn’t think the women were all that polite. They seemed more interested in whether or not he was free than their fear of the recent events with Anna and Bryon.
“Well, you’re so interesting,” Lorrie said. “Absolutely the most interesting man we’ve run across since we’ve been here.”
“Fascinating,” Lexie added, leaning her chin into the heel of her hand and gazing at him.
He was unsure how he was supposed to respond to that so he muttered something that might or might not have been bullshit but was supposed to pass for “thank you.” He bit into the rib and chewed. It tasted amazing. He was definitely marrying Amaryllis. She could cook for him for the rest of his life. He wasn’t about to share with Ezekiel or Mordichai that she was such a good cook. They’d be over every day.
“Are you even paying attention?” Linda demanded.
Actually, no, but he would now so he’d never have to hear that strident, shriek note again. “I’m sorry.” Malichai wasn’t above using his injuries to get him out of trouble with the three barracuda sisters. “I’m recovering from an injury and the meds sometimes make me wander a little bit.”
“An injury?” Linda echoed.
“I’m in the service. I’ve been in for several years and I’ve done quite a few tours overseas. A few months ago, I was shot several times and my leg’s been operated on repeatedly. That’s why Amaryllis and I haven’t seen much of each other lately.”
The three women exchanged a look he barely caught, but for some reason, it bothered him. He had silent exchanges with his brothers all the time, but found when other siblings did so, he was uncomfortable with it.
“What?” he asked, not wanting them to think he wasn’t paying attention now. He continued to eat the ribs, wishing he’d taken a lot more. They were that good.
“It makes sense now. We’re actually from this area. We own a house just up the road. We rent it out whenever there’s a convention, especially one like Comic-Con. We make bank on the rentals and we usually stay with a friend. She’s got company so we booked here. We’ve seen Amaryllis a lot around the neighborhood, but never you.”
He shrugged. He’d found the less he explained, the fewer mistakes were made. Let them think what they wanted. They were coming to believe him if they hadn’t before.
“Do a lot of people rent out their homes during a large convention?” It would go along with the reason his brother had located one in the neighborhood and was able to rent it so quickly.
Linda shrugged. “If they’re smart, they do. We make so much money, especially because we usually can stay at our friends’ house rent-free.” She took a bite of a rib, holding it delicately between her fingers. “Oh my God, you have to try these,” she said to her sisters. “They’re amazing.”
Malichai couldn’t have agreed with her more.
“This is our first murder-suicide,” Lexie ventured as she picked up one of the ribs. “Ever. I liked Anne. I especially liked Bryon. He didn’t seem the type to kill anyone, let alone Anne. Did you ever talk to them?”
She sounded sad. For the first time, Malichai genuinely felt sorry for her. He did for all three of them when he looked at their faces. They might be a little man-crazy, but they definitely felt the deaths of the couple, a large contrast to Henry Shevfield and his contract business.
“I did. I thought they were a very nice couple. I don’t necessarily buy the entire murder-suicide verdict floating around. I prefer to wait and see what the medical examiner’s office rules it. There’s no reason to jump to conclusions.”
He kept eating and didn’t notice the sudden silence around the table immediately. When he finally did, he looked up. Each of the three women were staring at him, eyes wide, mouths slightly open, the ribs in their fingers.
“What?” He lowered his last rib, reluctant to finish it off.
“If Bryon didn’t kill Anna, who did? Because it was murder. Either Bryon did it or someone had to have murdered both of them,” Lorrie whispered, looking around the dining room suspiciously, as if she might spot the killer right in the room with them.
“You don’t really have to worry,” Malichai said. “I don’t know anything more than you do. I just thought they were a nice couple. So don’t start worrying when there’s no reason to.”
“You don’t know that. There could be a serial killer on the loose. Maybe this nutjob likes blond women. Anna was blond, so are we.” Lexie looked around the room again. “There’s an entire smorgasbord right in this room for a serial killer if he’s looking for blondes to off.”
“It’s probably his ex-wife that started the entire thing. He hates her but can’t kill her,” Lorrie contributed. “So, he substitutes every blond woman about her age.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Linda burst out. “You have to stop. Malichai, before they decide to write the book of the century on serial killers offing blondes, can you tell us anything about what’s happening? The investigation? Did you talk to the cops?”
She knew he had. Amaryllis had told all three of the women that he had spoken at great length to the detectives the night before. She was trying to divert her sisters from their odd path of feeding each other fantasy horror stories.
He nodded slowly. “I did. The night they came to inform Marie that the Coopers were dead, I was with Amaryllis and we saw the flashing lights of the cop car and went down to let them in. Marie was there as well. They wanted to see the bedroom and cordon it off so no one could go inside.”
“Looking for evidence,” Lorrie whispered. “In case the serial killer had been in their room.”
It was all Malichai could do not to roll his eyes. He lifted his gaze to Amaryllis, conveying to her with one look that he was considering murder, but whether it was hers or Lorrie’s he was uncertain.
Linda glared at her sister. “It makes sense that they would want to make certain no one would go in their room. Did they tell you anything at all? Do they believe Bryon would really kill Anna?”
“I have no idea what they believe, Linda, they played their cards very close to their chest. Mostly the detectives asked questions about them. I think they wanted to know if the couple ever fought in front of us. I said no, because I never heard them fight. Did you hear them fight? Did Anna ever tell you Bryon was abusing her?”
The three women exchanged another long look. Again, it was Linda who answered. “No, she always said wonderful things about him. I really hate that it was her. She was such a nice person.”
Again, Malichai felt sorry for them. Genuine sadness loomed over the table. He looked across the room to Amaryllis again. His woman. She put another tray of ribs on the long counter and then, using tongs, heaped several onto a plate, got her own food and took both plates to the small table where they always ate together.
“Do you think we’re safe?” Linda asked.
“Absolutely, you should be safe,” he said. What else could he say?
Something big was lurking under the
surface, but he had no idea what. It most likely had something to do with the Ideas for Peace conference at the San Diego Convention Center. It was a guess, but several of Henry’s victims could be tied back to the center itself. He was uneasy, very concerned that some faction had decided to hit the peace convention to make a statement and disrupt any real ideas that might be kicked around by the various planned panels.
“Do you plan on attending the convention?” he asked.
“We volunteer to work them,” Lexie said. “That way we get in free. This one, we went back and forth about, but we’re on the list. We’ll do it.”
“Boring,” Lorrie said. “No movie stars. I love Comic-Con.”
“Everyone loves it,” Linda said. “This might be interesting. Informative.”
“Political,” Lorrie said with some disgust. “You know how much I hate politics. No one can agree on anything, so what’s the point of it all?”
“To change that,” Linda said. “Maybe get a climate of tolerance so everyone is willing to discuss issues rather than call each other names.”
Lorrie rolled her eyes. “I find people who don’t think the same way I do ridiculous. They’re morons and can’t see logic. How can you talk to that?”
Linda met Malichai’s eyes and shrugged as if to say, “See what I deal with?” He gave her a faint grin. He’d met more than his share of Lorries.
He knew without turning around that Amaryllis was close. Her scent reached him first, that delicate fragrance that seemed to put him instantly into a heightened sense of awareness. Every nerve ending. Every cell in his body. He inhaled deeply, letting her settle into his lungs so he could carry her throughout his body.
“Hey, babe.” Amaryllis bent down, her lips whispering along his neck.
Malichai wanted to cover that brief touch with his palm and hold it to him. He made himself sit very still, knowing all three women at the table were watching.
“I hope you’ve reassured everyone.” Amaryllis flashed a smile at the other women. “I’m afraid I need him at my table now. We have so much business to discuss.” Her long lashes swept down and then back up.