Michaels, Skye - Mikaela's Debut [The Black Dahlia Hotel 1] (Siren Publishing Everlasting Classic) (18 page)

“Did Morgan send anyone in to retrieve the bugs before the Brooklyn DA got their own in place?”

“I believe Court’s bugs are still live. It’s too late to get them now. I wouldn’t worry about them though. I’m sure they would have used untraceable equipment. In any case, I think you and Mikaela had a right to protect yourselves from a blackmailer.”

“I think so, too, but I’d hate to muddy the waters of any prosecution with unauthorized listening devices. Well, we’ll just have to see what happens.”

Port Everglades, Fort Lauderdale, Florida, on board the
Golden Dolphin
, Saturday morning, January 9, 2016

Mikaela and Dillon were on the top deck saying their good-byes and thanking the crew. She really hated to give up the privacy and safety afforded by the ship’s security team. As far as they knew, no one had figured out where they were, although it was general knowledge that they had married in Cozumel. The media storm didn’t seem to have quieted down at all. She had been hoping that some new phenomenon would push them and their pictures off the front pages of the tabloids, legitimate press, and all the Internet and television celebrity sites. No such luck so far. They were not yet done with their fifteen minutes of fame. They had decided to stay at the hotel for a few more days to enjoy their honeymoon before returning to Connecticut, where they would have no buffer from the press. Mikaela was beginning to think their gamble to upset Maggie’s apple cart and wring something incriminating from her had failed and was going to be too costly by far.

Miguel Gatto and Gabriella Dellaveccia came out on deck and joined them on the rail. Miguel shook hands with Dillon and hugged Mikaela tight. “I’ll keep you advised if I hear anything from Mario. I know his office is going to want to interview you and see what evidence they can gather from Mikaela’s cell phone. I’ll forward you his contact information. Let us know if we can be of any help.”

Gabriella leaned over to kiss Mikaela’s cheek and said, “Chin up, girlie. It will all work out. Darkness, dawn, and all that trite stuff.”

“Thanks, Gabby. All of you guys have been great. Let’s keep in touch. Dillon and I definitely want to make The Black Dahlia and the
Golden Dolphin
regular vacation retreats.”

“Well, we’re locals so we will be here and look forward to seeing you. You and Dillon will have to try The Black Iris Club in Jack’s building. It’s fabulous, and the security is top notch.”

Miguel’s cell phone tinkled out a Latin ring tone and he answered. “Hey, Mario. What’s up? Do you have any good news for us?” A pause. “That’s interesting. She went gonzo, huh? Actually, that’s good. And you have a tail on her? Excellent.”

Miguel ended the call and turned to them. “Apparently, Maggie freaked out when she saw the wedding pictures on television and tore up her apartment. Those pictures are everywhere. She has been in contact with, and has set a meeting in Central Park today with, a known lesser member of one of the gangs based in Brooklyn. Apparently she is acquainted with him in some manner. The conversation was very cryptic.”

“A gang member? That doesn’t sound like the Maggie I know. She is a total snob.” This was scary. Were they now in physical danger as well?

“Evidently she wants something from him. There are not a lot of options here. I can think of one or two very unpleasant things she might want. I don’t like the sound of this. One good thing is that this gang member is actually an NYPD undercover cop on a deep-cover assignment in the gang. Mario’s people have her under surveillance and intend to record the meeting in Central Park. You guys need to stay out of sight either on board or at the hotel. This could get dangerous.”

Dillon said, “I don’t like the sound of this at all. Do you think she could be trying to arrange a hit? Could she think she might be Mikaela’s next of kin for inheritance purposes? That would not be the case in any event since we are now married. What the fuck can she be up to?”

“Knowing her greedy motives so far, I would be inclined to think it’s the inheritance angle and that she just isn’t that knowledgeable about line of succession.” Miguel shook his head. “Either that or you are both in her sights. You both need to be very careful until this is worked out.”

Casey Campbell joined them. “Folks, the hotel’s van is at the dock, and all of your luggage has been loaded. Mr. Gatto, your luggage is in your car.”

“Thanks, Casey. We’ll get out of your hair.” Dillon gave her one of his blinding smiles, and Casey responded with one of her own.

“Oh, no problem at all. If you need to hang around, you are more than welcome. We are not headed out again for a couple of days.”

* * * *

In the Cavanaugh suite at The Black Dahlia Hotel, Fort Lauderdale Beach, Florida, Saturday afternoon, January 9, 2016

Dillon and Mikaela were back in their suite and had unpacked their bags. “She’s your cousin, Mikki. What do you think she’s up to?”

“It’s either revenge for thwarting her, or she’s still trying for that big payday. I don’t know which, but it’s scary. Imagine if she had connected with a gang member who wasn’t an undercover cop? I wonder what the going price for knocking off your family members is these days.”

“Let’s have lunch here and stay out of sight for a while. We can go up to the dungeon floor later. That’s as secure as Fort Knox.”

“Good idea. I could use a little stress relief, and the dungeon sounds like just the ticket right now, Master.”

* * * *

A park bench near the Bethesda Fountain in Central Park, New York City, New York, Saturday mid-afternoon, January 9, 2016

Maggie Sexton was sitting on a bench on the Bethesda Terrace near the Bethesda Fountain overlooking the lake on the north side of Seventy-Second Street. She had entered the park from Fifth Avenue after buying a hot dog and coke. She scanned the crowds looking for Ernesto Hernandez, a guy she had seen on the street around her neighborhood and talked to a few times in the local bodega. She thought he was a gang member, but she wasn’t sure just how connected he was. He certainly had a rough appearance.

The terrace was crowded with New Yorkers, tourists, and families enjoying the sunny January afternoon. Kids ran around the fountain while their parents sat and watched them. She remembered coming here with Mikaela and her nanny when they were young. Of course, Mikaela had had adoring parents and an Irish nanny. Maggie had the black-sheep parents who couldn’t seem to keep it together although she knew they had loved her. Intellectually she knew that she should leave this alone, but she just couldn’t seem to do it. Having her plan snatched out of her hands at the last minute had been devastating. First her computer had crashed and then the original tape and DVD had gone missing. And now Mikaela had somehow figured out that she was behind the blackmail scheme.

It was all just too much of a coincidence. How could Mikaela have known that she had sent the blackmail texts from the burner phone she had paid cash for on Forty-Second Street? They hadn’t seen each other in a year. Now she and her new
husband
had turned the scandal of the sex tape around and were the current darlings of the media. Every news and celebrity program was asking the question, “Where are the newlywed Cavanaughs?” The pictures of Mikaela’s fairytale wedding were everywhere. It was just too fucking much. Did everything turn to gold for Princess Mikaela Sexton?

Ah, here he comes
—the dark-skinned Latin male wearing baggy jeans and a hoody under a worn black leather jacket. He jogged up to the bench and sat down a foot away from her. “So,
chica
. What you want? Why I have to come all the way over the bridge to talk to you?”

Maggie looked around. No one seemed to be paying any attention to them. The kids were still running around, the teens were playing with their cell phones, and their music was too loud. How to broach this subject? Just come out with it? Or should she beat around the bush a bit? “Ernesto. What if I wanted to hire you to do a job for me?”

“What kind job,
chica?
You wan’ me to rub somebody out?” He laughed as though he thought that was incredibly funny.

“Shit, Ernesto. Keep your voice down. What if I did? What would it cost?”

“You kidding me,
chica?
You nuts?”

“No. I’m not kidding. If you could help me out, I would be able to pay you after my inheritance kicks in. It wouldn’t be too long. What would it cost for you to take a drive up to Connecticut and take care of a problem for me?”

“Couple a grand, I guess. It depends on where and who and how hard was the job. Who do you want me to take care of? You mean kill right? Not just mess them up?”

“Shhh. Don’t talk so loud. Someone will hear you.” She looked around nervously again before continuing. “My cousin, Mikaela. She’s a serious pain in my ass, and she’s standing between me and my rightful inheritance.”

“Where she live?”

“Greenwich. A big old house on a lot of property. No close neighbors. It should be easy to get in at night, do the job, and just drive away.”

He looked suspicious. “You sure you wan’ do this? You sure you gonna be able to pay? If I do this job for you and you don’ pay, you gonna be sorry,
chica
. Real sorry.”

“I’m sure. I’ll get my inheritance and then I’ll be able to pay.” A frisson of apprehension tingled down her spine. Was she making a mistake?

When she looked up, the bench was surrounded by plainclothes cops with guns drawn and flashing badges. “Maggie Sexton, you’re under arrest for attempted murder for hire and blackmail.” She was pulled roughly from the bench and handcuffed.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. You have the wrong person.” She looked desperately from side to side and didn’t see any way out.

Ernesto Hernandez was handcuffed as well, and they were both hustled into the back of a squad car. “You crazy bitch. Who you tell about this?”

“No one. I didn’t tell anyone. Who did you tell?”

“Nobody.”

* * * *

Dillon answered his cell phone. “Mr. Cavanaugh. Mario Ferrante from the Brooklyn District Attorney’s Office here. We’ve arrested Maggie Sexton in Central Park this afternoon while she was attempting to negotiate a contract for the murder of Mrs. Cavanaugh. We also arrested a gang member named Ernesto Hernandez, since he has been undercover in Brooklyn for over a year, and we didn’t want to compromise his operation.”

“You’re kidding. She actually went through with it?” He was shocked. He really hadn’t thought that Mikaela’s cousin would take her scheme this far. The woman must be nuts. “What happens next?”

“When you get back from Florida, you and Mrs. Cavanaugh will have to come in to go over the case with my office, turn over any evidence you have such as text or e-mail messages, and sign a complaint. Since we have the whole conversation on tape, the case will probably end with a plea bargain rather than a trial.”

“We should be home next week. We’ll call when we get back to town and arrange to come into your office. I need to tell Mikaela. I can’t say this will be a relief to her. I really don’t know how she will feel about this. After all, her only relative just tried to have her killed.”

“It’s not pretty. That’s for sure.”

“Thanks for the call. I have to advise several other people who have an interest in this matter. Thank you for all your help.” He pressed end and turned to Mikaela. “It’s over, baby. Maggie has been arrested.” He reached over and pulled her into his arms. “She was trying to take a contract out on you.”

Mikaela burst into tears and he just held her. Finally, her sobs quieted, and she rested against his chest. “We knew that was a possibility, but I really can’t process that she would actually do it, Dillon. Did she actually try to pay someone to kill me?” Dillon rocked her in his arms.

“According the Brooklyn DA, she did. They arrested her in Central Park trying to negotiate the contract. The undercover cop was arrested as well since they didn’t want to blow his cover. The worst of this is over now, baby. She can’t hurt you anymore.”

“Oh, Dilly. I really don’t have any family at all now. I just want to go home. I want us to start our lives together.”

“We will, baby. You have me and my family now, and we’ll make one of our own. We have each other and my folks and our friends. Family is what you make it.”

The Hyatt Regency Greenwich Hotel, Old Greenwich, Connecticut, Tuesday night, February 2, 2016

Dillon and Mikaela sat on a sofa in the lounge of the suite Joe Cavanaugh had booked for election night. His parents, his law partner, and everyone from his office, as well as a collection of friends and all of his campaign workers were there. Everyone was milling about drinking and eating while they patiently waited for the polls to close and the votes to be counted. There was an air of eager expectation in the room.

The last month had been a whirlwind. Dillon meant it when he’d said the voters of Greenwich could elect him or not as they chose. Dillon had kept the campaigning to the barest minimum, but after everything that had happened some appearances and press interviews were necessary. Of course, Joe was relentless. The pressure from the press and paparazzi had been relentless as well. It seemed that with the arrest of Maggie Sexton for trying to contract a hit on Mikaela, they had become America’s sweethearts, and their story had swept the press. Their experience was likened to
Romeo and Juliet
. They had gotten heartily tired of hearing it. Mikaela liked to joke privately that at least they hadn’t ended up dead.