Digging Up Death (A Mari Duggins Mystery) (34 page)

It warmed my heart to hear him call me Mom again, though he didn’t realize how true the title really was.

“If anything had happened to you, and I didn’t get to say I was sorry—” His words caught in his throat. “I’ve been a real jerk lately.”

“I’m so sorry about everything. I haven’t been around much for you lately. I want you to know I’m going to do better.”

“So will I, but sometimes I don’t know what’s wrong with me. My head says one thing, and my gut says another. It’s just too hard to know what to do.”

“I’m here to help you figure it all out.”

“I wish Dad were here.”

“So do I.”

The doorbell rang and my son tore off to answer it. “Detective Lopez is here.”

“Come on in, Detective.” I called from the living room, debating if I should get dressed or at least throw on some under-eye concealer. My black circles made me look like the living dead. But I had nothing to hide from Lopez anymore. He already saw right through me. “Would you like some coffee?”

Detective Lopez stepped into the room wearing the same suit as last night. From the look of his under-eye bags, he was the one that needed the cover-up. “Sure, I take it black. But first there’s someone who’s been waiting all night to see you.”

Fletcher? My heart skidded like a lovesick teen at the thought of seeing him as I relived last night’s kiss before we left him in the hospital for overnight observation. I smoothed my hair and ran my fingers under my eyes, hoping to catch some smeared mascara, then caught myself primping. What was I doing? I didn’t need to impress him. He’d already seen me at my worst and loved me anyway.

CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT

10:23 a.m
.

WHEN JACK ROUNDED THE corner after Detective Lopez, my breath caught. Conflicting emotions jockeyed for position in my heart.

“Do I smell bacon? And eggs?” My ex-husband eyed me.

“In the nest.” I barely squeaked out.

“My favorite.”

“What are you doing here?” Is this God’s idea of working all things out for good? “I thought you were in jail?”

Jack inched closer, searching my eyes for an invitation.

“We have no reason to hold him. Jack is absolved of all crimes,” Detective Lopez explained.

“What?”

“I’ll explain when I get back. I’m starved.” Jack disappeared into the kitchen where the children hollered like they were at the Dallas Cowboys Super Bowl.

“I don’t understand. What’s going on?” I sat on the couch.

“Let’s wait for Jack. He’ll explain everything.” Detective Lopez sat in the recliner opposite the couch.

It seemed like a lifetime passed before Jack returned with two coffees. He handed Detective Lopez one. “Thank you.” Detective Lopez took a sip. “Mari, I’m sure you’re wanting an explanation.”

Jack sat beside me, uncomfortably close. I scooted away. “You betcha. Start spilling the details, and don’t leave anything out.”

Detective Lopez set his coffee on the end table and leaned forward. “Susan confessed this morning to conspiring with Henderson and framing Peter.”

I glared at Jack. “What?”

“Why do you seem surprised?” Jack sipped his coffee.

“I’m not. I mean, I am. I thought you were innocent, but after last night …”

“Can’t we tell her?”

Detective Lopez cleared his throat. “Why don’t we wait until Ms. Bomani gets here?”

“She was never good at waiting.” Jack glanced at the Christmas tree. “I’m surprised she hasn’t opened any presents yet.”

Detective Lopez nodded. “I think she deserves the truth. Why don’t you explain?”

I adjusted myself on the couch. This was going to be good.

“About two years ago I intercepted an email meant for Henderson. It must’ve been rerouted to my inbox at the university when I subbed for him when he went in for heart surgery. The email was coded, but I was able to break it.”

I raised my eyebrows. “I didn’t know you could do that.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

“Obviously.” I folded my arms.

He frowned. “After I read the emails detailing Henderson’s involvement in authenticating forged artifacts as real antiquities, I knew I was on to something big and made a call to Egypt. I explained the urgency to Dr. Rhashidi’s secretary, but three months later I was still jumping through hoops. I got frustrated and contacted INTERPOL.”

“Aren’t they the guys who threaten to throw you in jail for video and DVD piracy?”

Detective Lopez chuckled, almost spewing his coffee. “That’s not all they do. They’re the world’s largest international police organization. They assist police cooperation across borders, and support others whose mission is to fight international crime.”

Jack slurped his coffee. “INTERPOL facilitates international police cooperation even where diplomatic relations break down between countries or don’t exist. I figured they might be able to help. And before I knew it, I’m undercover infiltrating the smuggling ring’s operation collecting evidence to bring them down.”

All the pieces of the puzzle connected into one clear picture. “I knew you weren’t an antiquities thief. I never understood why you left, but now it makes perfect sense. You wanted to keep us safe.” Confusion battled within, different emotions grasping for a foothold. If Jack wanted back in my life, where did that leave Fletcher?

“I wish that were the case.” Jack stared into his coffee. “But I left before they asked me to go undercover. I was planning on leaving for a while. Hated myself for being so selfish, for wanting to run away and pursue my own dreams, but I knew if I stayed I’d make everyone’s life miserable. Can you ever forgive me?”

I sat in silence, mulling over his words, not sure if I could erase the hurt he heaped on this family, but knowing I was just as guilty of being selfish with my career. I needed to forgive him.

“So they needed a field archaeologist on the inside to take over Henderson’s job and you were the man?” Detective Lopez offered, trying to redirect the conversation.

“Yeah, Henderson wasn’t thrilled about bringing me into the deal,” Jack continued, “probably because it would cut into his profit, but INTERPOL forged some papers and made it look like I had a history with their inside guy, and that we reconnected on the last dig in Egypt.”

“Why didn’t they just arrest Henderson?” I asked, my emotions ebbing.

“If they did, it would’ve tipped off the smuggling operation, risking the disappearance of hundreds of antiquities. INTERPOL’s man was never able to find the lab until I came on board.”

Jack had been involved in the smuggling ring, just not the way I had imagined. The doorbell rang.

“Let me get that.” Detective Lopez stood. “It’s probably Ms. Bomani.”

Jack gazed at me. Eyes full of regret. “I don’t blame you for thinking I was forging and smuggling artifacts.”

I knew he wanted—needed to hear that I forgave him. But I wasn’t ready.

Fletcher walked into the room. His eyes fell on me, then Jack. “What’s he doing here?” He pulled me from the couch, his arm around my shoulder.

Jack stood, an expression of shock flashed across his face, then faded. “I was just explaining everything to Mari.” He held out his hand. Fletcher refused to shake it. I didn’t blame him.

When Detective Lopez and I left Fletcher in the hospital last night, we were positive of Jack’s guilt. I turned to Fletcher. “Jack’s innocent. He had nothing to do with the forgery. He was actually investigating the smuggling ring.”

“What? I was there the whole time and you never told me. I thought we were friends.”

“We still are.” Jack looked from Fletcher to me, and back again. He extended his hand. Fletcher shook it. I let out a sigh as a silent understanding passed between them. The doorbell rang again.

“I’ll get it this time.” Jack hurried into the hall.

Ms. Bomani walked in wearing a maroon Egyptian Bedouin dress embroidered with green and gold accents. “Looks like I am late for the party.”

“No, you’re just in time. Please have a seat.” I motioned to the empty recliner.

She sat. Detective Lopez hovered nearby.

I considered my former enemy turned ally. “I’m sorry for interfering in the investigation and all the trouble I caused you. Whatever the consequences are, I’m willing to face them.”

Fletcher rubbed my hands. “We’ll face them.”

“Egyptian law gives clemency for anyone sharing information that leads to an arrest in the theft of antiquities or smuggling.” Ms. Bomani’s genuine smile told me everything would be all right. “Seems like you are ‘off the hook’ as you say here in America. But next time, do not be afraid to tell the truth.”

“I think I’ve learned my lesson. There won’t be a next time.”

“Can I get you something, Ms. Bomani?” Jack offered like it was still his home. “Coffee? Juice? It’s freshly squeezed, so I’ve been told.”

“No, thank you, I am fine. I wanted to stop by and review a few things from yesterday.”

Fletcher ushered me to the couch and eased next to me, his hand still in mine.

Jack sat on the arm of the sofa. “Sure, I’ve got nothing more to hide.” His gaze fell on me for a moment. “Anymore.”

Ms. Bomani retrieved a small recorder from her purse. “One thing does not make sense. I know you explained why you became involved with INTERPOL instead of contacting the Department of Retrieving Stolen Artifacts, but is there anything else you can remember about those months? Any reasons why your call was overlooked?”

Jack cocked his head to the left and contemplated. “Nope, I guess they thought my allegations held no merit. Maybe because of Henderson’s track record and the university’s impeccable relationship with Egypt.”

She shook her head. “I would have pursued such a claim if I had known about it. At least investigated the antiquities from the sites he excavated over the years.”

“I don’t know who dropped the ball.” Jack glanced at me and Fletcher with approval. “But everything worked out.”

For good. I leaned into Fletcher and returned his smile.

Ms. Bomani turned to Detective Lopez. “Did you get a confession from Susan?”

“Yes, this morning.” Detective Lopez spoke directly to Ms. Bomani. “She said she used a beta blocker to slow Henderson’s heart rate to the point of being undetectable to the eye and sabotaged the equipment so the other EMT wouldn’t notice the slight heart rate. Since she was the lead paramedic and Henderson had on a DNR identity bracelet, no one questioned her when she carted Henderson straight to the morgue where Brian Farlow, the AME, pronounced Henderson dead, signed the death certificate, and claimed to do an autopsy.”

“Why would the AME risk his career and life for such a risky scheme?” Fletcher asked.

“He was a drug addict,” I offered, leaving out the details of how I found him. “Susan supplied him with money and drugs. Then paid her cousin to say he cremated the body, right?”

“You sure you don’t want to switch careers?” Detective Lopez retrieved his coffee on the end table next to Ms. Bomani’s recliner.

“No, thanks, I think my dance card is full.”

Fletcher squeezed my hand.

“I can’t believe Henderson had everyone fooled,” Jack said.

I contemplated the extent of the charade. “He must’ve been really desperate to take the risk. What if he had died?”

Detective Lopez sipped his coffee. “Susan confessed to stealing epinephrine and atropine in case she needed to jump start his heart. She was highly skilled in Advanced Cardiac Life Support and seemed to have things prepared in case Henderson went into cardiac arrest. She said the blackmailer was whittling away at Henderson’s fortune and when Kipling threatened his tenure at the university, he concocted the idea of faking his death. If he could disappear and become someone else he could continue his smuggling scheme at a different university, probably foreign, without any detection until he was ready to retire.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if Henderson was using Susan all along.” I snuggled closer to Fletcher. “Did you ever find the blackmailer?”

“Nope, it’s still an open case and not quite top priority,” Detective Lopez said.

“Do you think you’ll be able to track down the real Hatshepsut heart scarab?” Jack leaned in to the conversation.

“Henderson is not cooperating, but we are confident we will find evidence to help us determine the location of the scarab and many other antiquities soon.” Ms. Bomani stood and extended her hand to Jack, then to me. “Thank you for your time this morning. I will be in touch.”

“Let me follow you out.” Detective Lopez set down his mug. “You folks take it easy this morning. I’ll have a patrol car keep the reporters away. Right now, Natasha’s busy playing the media, but it shouldn’t be long before they come banging on your door.”

Reporters? I hadn’t thought about the publicity this case would bring. “Thanks, Detective Lopez.”

Jack closed the door, then turned to Fletcher and I, hands deep in his pockets. “Guess I should be going.”

Fletcher’s gaze passed from me to Jack. “No, stay. Let me go. Catch up with your kids.”

“Why don’t you both stay,” I said. “I’ve made enough to feed an army.”

“Enough for two weary soldiers?” Fletcher winked.

“Plenty.” I smiled at Fletcher then Jack and hooked my arms in theirs. We strolled into the kitchen like the Three Musketeers. Like old times, but different.

Matt, Hattie, and Ben sat around the table, engrossed in cartoons, filling their faces with good home-cooking. A rare treat in the Duggins’ home. But that was about to change.

“Anyone for seconds?” I asked.

Everyone answered “yes” at once. Jack gave second rounds of hugs to the kids while Fletcher poured the freshly squeezed juice. I whipped up another batch of waffles and eggs in the nest. I’d have to find out what Fletcher’s favorite breakfast was another day.

Danny clomped down the stairs, backpack slung over his shoulder. “I’m really glad you’re safe, Mrs. D. You too, Mr. D. Hey, Mr. Murdock, how’s it going?”

Fletcher nodded with a mouth full.

“Why don’t you stay for brunch?” Jack poured himself a glass of orange juice. “There’s always room for one more.”

“Nah, I think you guys need the day to yourselves. Besides, Cherilyn and I are going on a picnic.”