Wicked Game (32 page)

“I just don’t understand,” Tamara said, perching on a bar stool near the kitchen counter. “You all think that Mitch was killed, that this wasn’t an accident.”

“Not just Mitch,” Hudson said.

A murmur of agreement swept through the room.

“Been a bunch of murders,” Jarrett said.

“Oh, no.” Evangeline was shaking her head, her blond hair moving against her shoulders. Her hand reached for Zeke’s but his were in his pockets. His head was bent and he was remote enough to be on a different planet. “I don’t believe it,” she went on shakily. “No one would want to kill Mitch or Glenn…or Renee.”

“Well, they did,” The Third said, all of his cockiness gone. His face was lined, his hair falling over his eyes instead of neatly combed. “Something’s up. And it started with those kids finding Jessie’s body. Someone’s picking us off. And it has to do with Jessie.”

“Mitch’s death wasn’t murder,” Scott said, shuddering.

“Someone dropped that jack handle,” Hudson said. “It didn’t fall on its own.”

Scott asked, “You tell the police that?”

“Yep. Wanted everything on the table. No secrets.”

Hudson gazed at Zeke hard and Zeke flushed. Unless Zeke had gone straight to the phone and started calling the group, they still didn’t know he was the baby’s father and therefore the bones belonged to Jessie. Zeke’s uncomfortable posture said the secret was still under wraps.

Zeke couldn’t hold his gaze.

“Who sent those notes?” Hudson asked him.

Vangie caught the tension between them and said quickly, “You can’t think it’s Zeke?”

“Was it?” Hudson asked Zeke point-blank.

“No.” He was positive.

Hudson said, “Jessie didn’t send them. Jessie’s dead. Those are her bones. DNA’s proved it.”

“How?” Scott asked, surprised. “I thought there was nothing to match Jessie’s DNA to.”

“The baby’s DNA was matched to her father’s,” Hudson said. “And the father is one of us. Stands to reason the bones are Jessie’s.”

“You’re the father?” Jarrett’s dark brows slammed together and he looked at Hudson, then slowly followed his gaze to Zeke.

“I am,” Zeke stated flatly.

The group collectively absorbed the shock of that news, turning toward Zeke and staring at him.

“Oh, my God,” Tamara exhaled.

Evangeline blinked several times, as if her brain couldn’t process something so abhorrent. “It’s Hudson’s baby,” she finally said. “She was Hudson’s girlfriend.”

“I slept with Jessie,” Zeke said. “We were seeing each other behind Hudson’s back.”

Becca shivered, wishing she were in Hudson’s arms, but he had taken a half step back, watching the drama play out among his friends.

“No, you weren’t.” Vangie was positive.

“I’m not proud of it. And Jessie only really wanted Hudson, anyway. I just
wanted
her. I just wanted to have her. You knew I was seeing Jessie,” he suddenly accused Evangeline, whose eyes nearly popped out of her head. “Jessie told me she confided in you.”

“No! No!”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Zeke demanded. “Why are you so afraid of the truth?”

“I didn’t believe her,” Vangie said. “She was always saying hurtful things. We weren’t best friends!”

“Oh, my God,” Tamara said again, staring at Evangeline in fascination. “Jessie was confessing the truth, but you couldn’t stand to hear it because you’ve always had this obsession over Zeke!”

“This is all Jessie’s doing.” Evangeline’s whole body was quaking.

“Jessie’s dead,” Zeke said harshly.

“And so are Glenn and Renee and Mitch,” Hudson pointed out.

“I don’t believe you would do that to Hudson,” Vangie said. “You wouldn’t go behind his back.”

“I just wanted her.” Zeke’s jaw was set in anger.

“Fuck, we all did,” The Third said, trying to defuse the situation.

“But Zeke was the one who scored, apparently.” Jarrett started to see amusement in the situation. “Wouldn’t have guessed that one.”

“Zeke, come on,” Vangie pleaded. She wrapped her arms around his torso but he stiffened in her embrace. “We’re getting married.”

“Well, who the hell killed her?” The Third demanded. “Zeke? Is that what we’re saying?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Zeke said angrily.

“If anyone did, it was one of you!” Flushed, Evangeline gazed around the room at the men. “And Jessie sent those nursery rhymes to point the finger at you!”

“How many ways do I have to say it?” Zeke demanded. “Jessie is dead. She’s been dead for twenty years!”

“Why didn’t Zeke get one of the nursery rhymes?” Scott asked.

“Yeah,” Jarrett said, looking thoughtfully at Vangie.

“Because Evangeline sent them,” Hudson said quietly. “To point the finger at the rest of us.”

“You’re all—hateful!” Evangeline’s eyes filled with unshed tears.

Becca gazed at the shaking blond woman and realized Hudson was right. “You heard at Blue Note about the nursery rhymes, when Mitch and Glenn brought them up. You’re afraid Zeke really did kill Jessie. That’s why you’ve been so adamant that she’s alive.”

“No…” She raised a hand, as if to ward off Becca’s words.

“You never really believed it,” Becca went on. “You’ve thought she was dead from the beginning.”

“Jessie was some kind of witch! She could see the future, I’m telling you! She knew she was going to die! But it wasn’t Zeke!”

“Did you kill her?” Tamara demanded.

A deep wail boiled from inside Vangie’s soul. She clung to Zeke for support as the sound reverberated through the room. Becca turned to Hudson and he moved swiftly to take her in his arms.

“You did kill her,” Scott said on a note of wonder.

“I didn’t! I couldn’t! It was someone else. Someone evil. Renee was right. Jessie thought someone was after her. Hunting her down. She’d been to the beach looking up her past. And this…
thing
…found her!”

“Trouble,” Becca said.

“Go ahead and make up stories.” The Third got up from his chair and glared at Vangie. “All this mystic crap. You killed her. You hunted her down and killed her because she was pregnant with Zeke’s baby.”

“Zeke,” Evangeline pleaded. “Tell them it’s not true.” Her cheeks were wet with tears.

“I found the envelopes in the shredder, Vangie. Blue strips where you shredded the evidence. I saved them for the police.”

“What?” She backed away from him, her hands slowly letting go, her face a mask of horror.

“McNally guessed. When he told me that my DNA matched the baby’s, he also as good as said you sent the notes. He knows, Vangie.”

“Then why hasn’t he picked her up?” Scott demanded.

“Because I don’t think she killed Jessie.”

“I didn’t.” A ray of hope entered her voice.

“She sent the notes. She was afraid I’d killed Jessie. But Jessie’s death, I don’t know. And Glenn and Renee and Mitch…” Zeke closed his eyes and wearily shook his head. When Evangeline tried to embrace him again, he jerked away as if burned. “We’re done, Vangie.”

“Okay, okay. I believe Jessie’s dead. And I sent the notes—but it wasn’t because I thought you killed her. I just wanted the investigation to leave us alone. I love you, Zeke,” she implored. “So much.”

He gazed at her a bit helplessly. “But I don’t love you. I never really did.”

“She went to a helluva lot of work,” Mac observed, turning over the nursery rhyme note with Hudson’s name on it that Becca and Hudson had brought in. He pulled out the one he already had in his possession from Mitch and looked at them side by side.

Becca sensed the detective wasn’t quite taking them seriously and she sent Hudson a “what gives?” look, but Hudson’s gaze was glued to McNally. It had been three days since Mitch’s death and the scene at Becca’s condo. She and Hudson had wondered when Zeke and Evangeline would contact the police, but when Mac called up and politely asked them if they could meet again, they’d said they would join him at the Laurelton station. McNally had assured them it was just an informal discussion, so Hudson and Becca had decided to preempt Zeke and Evangeline in the interest of keeping the investigation moving forward into Renee’s accident.

The woman detective appeared from an inner door carrying four paper cups of coffee. She handed them around, then stood back from the proceedings.

“Thanks,” McNally told her.

She shrugged a response.

“Zeke said you probably already knew who sent the notes,” Hudson said. “Sounds like you led him to that conclusion.”

Mac inclined his head. “I thought it was a woman. And when Zeke’s DNA came through, the possibility seemed to be there.”

“You obviously don’t think Evangeline’s a killer or you would have picked her up,” Hudson observed.

“We got somebody else in mind,” Gretchen couldn’t help saying.

Mac felt his temper rise but he held it inside. He’d confided what he’d learned from the Portland PD to Gretchen, but she still had those “jump in too soon” tendencies that drove him nuts.

“Who?” Hudson asked. Both detectives hesitated, which pissed him off. “If you have any information on who killed my sister, I want to know.”

“We’re looking into the arson/homicide at Blue Note,” Mac said. “One of your group has been picked up for questioning in Portland.”

“Who?” Hudson asked.

“Scott Pascal.”

Becca nearly sloshed her coffee from her cup. “What?”

“Scott was Glenn’s business partner,” Hudson said.

“Their businesses were running in the red. Portland PD has evidence he was in the area that night. We think he set the fire.”

“But he and Glenn were friends!” Becca protested.

“Money does strange things to people,” Mac said.

“He ever involved with your sister?” the woman detective asked Hudson.

“No.”

“Didn’t have a thing for her? Wouldn’t want to see her dead?”

Becca gasped.

“No!” A vein throbbed in Walker’s throat, his anger palpable.

Mac shot Gretchen a quelling look, then said, “I plan to give the Portland PD any and all information I can on why Scott Pascal would kill Glenn Stafford, Renee Trudeau, and Mitch Bellotti. That’s why I asked to meet with you. Can you think of any connection we’re missing?”

Becca and Hudson looked at each other, then at Mac.

“Mitch was harmless,” Becca said.

“Maybe not, if Stafford told Bellotti he thought Scott Pascal was an embezzler. And then Bellotti put two and two together and figured Pascal had more to gain by burning the place down than trying to keep it afloat.”

“He wouldn’t have killed Glenn.” Becca was certain.

“That could’ve been a mistake. If Pascal thought he could control Stafford once the place was gone, he may not have meant to kill him.”

“What about Renee?” Walker asked, his expression dark.

“That’s what I’m trying to find out,” Mac said on a sigh.

“She was not involved with Scott.”

“They both went to the beach a lot.”

“For work,” Hudson pointed out.

“And maybe a little afternoon delight,” the woman detective said.

McNally’s desk phone rang and he hesitated a moment before picking up. Everyone sat tensely as the detective listened, answering in near monosyllables. When he hung up, he said, “Thank you for coming in.”

“That’s it?” Hudson asked.

“For the moment.”

“You’re wrong about my sister and Scott,” he said as he and Becca shrugged into their coats and headed for the door.

Mac didn’t answer as he watched them leave. Gretchen lifted her brows at him after they were gone.

“We’ve been invited to witness the Pascal interrogation,” Mac said. “Maybe we’ll get some answers.”

“Renee was not involved with Scott,” Hudson stated firmly as he punched the accelerator and his truck leapt away from the police station parking lot.

“No,” Becca agreed. Her head was full of too much information, but what kept ringing through her ears was Detective Sandler’s last remark.

And maybe a little afternoon delight.

It brought to mind images of all the afternoons and days and nights she’d spent in bed with Hudson, and the fact that she still hadn’t had her period.

Hudson was cutting through traffic on his way back to Becca’s. The sun was rising over a bank of clouds, the promise of a clear day. He followed two motorcyclists riding side by side. “Renee and Scott really were little more than acquaintances.”

“What if she found out something in Deception Bay, or maybe Lincoln City, that tied him to the other murders and he thought he had to get rid of her…”

“You believe that?” he demanded.

“Not really. The police always have a way of rattling me.”

Hudson grunted. “Renee was after a story. It had nothing to do with Scott.”

“But everything to do with Jessie.” Becca’s stomach suddenly nosedived and she sucked in air in a hurry. “Would you mind pulling into the Safeway? I could use a soda.”

“Feeling sick again?”

“Kinda.”

As he nosed into a parking spot, she grabbed hold of the door handle, her knuckles showing white. She hesitated a moment, getting her bearings.

“You’re not pregnant, are you?” he said, half joking.

Becca’s hairsbreadth too long hesitation was answer enough. Hudson stared at her. “Are you? Are you pregnant?”

“Maybe. I don’t know yet.”

“I thought you were on the pill,” he said blankly.

“I wasn’t even thinking about it. I haven’t used birth control since my marriage. I just…” She didn’t know how to explain. She could scarcely explain it to herself.

“But you aren’t sure yet.”

“No. It’s just conjecture. I’ve been meaning to get a pregnancy test, but a lot’s been happening. Maybe I’m not. I mean, maybe I’m just feeling nauseous.” She looked away. “I’m afraid to find out. Afraid it might not be true,” she admitted in a rush.

“You want to be pregnant?”

“Yes.” She was emphatic. “Yes, I’ve wanted a child forever. I didn’t plan this. I didn’t think about it. I was going on emotion…wanting you…” She heard the note of excitement and pleading in her voice and had to turn away. If he didn’t want this, she would understand. She would. She would make herself.

“Well…” he said slowly.

“Well,” she repeated.

“I guess we’d better find out, then.”

She couldn’t read him. “You’re okay with this?”

“I’m just—taking it in.”

She heard something in his voice then, a note of wonder. “Yeah?” she asked uncertainly.

“Yeah.”

“Okay,” she said, watching him closely.

A kid, he thought.

He might actually have a kid.

To raise on the farm where he himself had grown up. He hadn’t planned on it, hadn’t even considered it, but now that the chance for fatherhood was facing him, he felt a surprising buoyancy, a lifting of his spirit. “A kid,” he said aloud. “Our kid.”

“Well, it’s not for sure yet. My periods don’t exactly run like clockwork.”

“They sell those tests here, don’t they?” He indicated the grocery store.

“They have a pharmacy department.” She reached for her door handle and looked back, an anxious smile touching the corners of her mouth. “What if it’s true?”

“What if it is,” he replied, smiling, and Becca, full of emotion, slid back across the seat and hugged and kissed him for all she was worth until she felt his chest rumble with laughter and his arms squeeze her back hard.

Scott Pascal’s interrogation was taking place in a bare narrow room with two rectangular tables surrounded by eight metal chairs. As expected, Pascal had lawyered up. Mac and Gretchen had arrived at the station, half expecting the interview to be over, but Pascal’s lawyer had been delayed, so they got to witness the full proceedings from behind the two-way glass window. The invitation had been extended because their case was linked to the arson/homicide at the restaurant. An assistant DA and another officer rounded out their group of four as they watched the interrogation which, of course, was also being recorded.

The guy was sweating, looking nervous and continuously listening to his lawyer before answering. But he was having trouble explaining why his car had been spotted parked in a shopping center lot three blocks away, courtesy of a security camera, during the time of the explosion. Another traffic camera had caught Scott nearly running a red light, and an employee who had left her car at Blue Note to have some drinks with a friend had come forward saying she’d seen Scott enter through the kitchen as she was driving away. The fact that the fire inspector had claimed the fire was caused by arson only added to Pascal’s troubles.

The fucker was nailed.

He knew it.

The cops knew it.

And his tight-assed lawyer knew it.

When the evidence was laid in front of him, Scott collapsed and put his head on the table.

“If I could have a minute alone with my client,” the lawyer said.

On their side of the glass, the ADA, a sharp-dressed black man with clipped hair and rimless glasses, nodded. “He’s gonna want to cop a plea.”

“About time,” McNally said. Finally a break in the case. “When he does, see what he knows. He set the fire and killed his partner. I want to know about the other dead bodies. I think he killed Mitch Bellotti to keep him from talking.”

“We’ve got it covered,” the ADA said, “and we’ll find out if he knows anything about the Jezebel Brentwood case.”

Mac doubted that Pascal would admit to killing the girl, but it was a start.

Finally, the case was pulling together. Except for Renee Trudeau. Pascal had been in Portland on the day her Camry had been forced through the guardrail and off the cliff into the Pacific Ocean.

But he could have an accomplice. Or, as Mac was coming to suspect, there might be a second killer.

From inside the room, Scott’s lawyer said, “I want to talk to the DA. My client is willing to tell you everything he knows, but in consideration for his testimony—”

“—confession,” one of the officers corrected.

“—Mr. Pascal would like to know what he can expect.”

“He wants a deal,” one of the officers said and looked into the glass.

“Okay, showtime.” The ADA walked out of the observation room, and in the next few minutes, Scott, assured he’d not get the death penalty, admitted that he’d set the fire at Blue Note and also killed Mitch Bellotti.

“I knew it. That son of a bitch,” Mac whispered, watching as Scott, sweating and holding out his hands as if anyone with half a brain would understand his reasoning, explained.

“The restaurant was hemorrhaging money. Blue Note couldn’t be saved and Glenn, he wouldn’t believe it.”

“Because you were cooking the books. And taking some of that money to the casino in Lincoln City. We found those records, too,” the officer said, and the wind seemed to go out of Pascal’s sails. “You’d better be straight with us, Pascal, or all deals are off.”

“Okay, okay, so I ‘borrowed’ a little of the company funds. It wasn’t a lot. Jesus Christ, I owned the damned thing. I was the brains behind the business. Glenn with all his marital woes was useless.” He was red in the face, angry all over again.

“So you decided to off him.”

“No…not really. I was just going to burn the place down. I didn’t know Glenn was inside. That was a pure accident.”

“That accident sure worked out for you,” the officer said. “No more Glenn Stafford to worry about.”

“He shouldn’t have been there! That was his fault, not mine!”

“Oh, brother,” Mac muttered, staring through the glass.

“And Bellotti?”

Scott rubbed a nervous hand over his forehead. “I feel bad about that. This thing just became an out-of-control roller coaster. First Glenn, and then Mitch started asking questions. I had no beef with him. He wasn’t so smart, but an okay guy. But Glenn had told him things and I could tell he was putting it all together. So…” To his credit, Pascal actually seemed guilt-riddled. “The body was found in the maze, we got the notes, and at first I thought I shouldn’t say I got one…but then when everybody did except Zeke it seemed fortuitous, y’know? Stupid Evangeline was trying to save him, and she just made him look guilty.”

“But you’re the one guilty of killing four people.”

“Four? No way!” Scott was rising from his chair, but his lawyer placed a staying hand over his forearm.

“Mr. Pascal is telling you what he knows. About the deaths of Glenn Stafford and Mitchell Bellotti.”

“What about Renee Trudeau and Jezebel Brentwood?”

Scott wasn’t waiting for his lawyer. “I had nothing to do with that. I wasn’t anywhere near the coast when Renee had her accident. Jesus, I have an alibi. I was at a meeting with bankers about refinancing Blue Ocean. The meeting was in Portland at Second Community Bank. Check with Davis Sheen, he’s my banker.”

“We will.”

“And I didn’t kill Jessie. I hardly knew her.” He was nearly convincing as tears glistened in his eyes. “You have to believe me.” He turned his tortured gaze to his bland-faced lawyer. “It’s the truth. I didn’t kill Renee, and I didn’t kill Jessie. And I don’t know who did.”

Sitting on the edge of the bathtub, Becca gazed at the wand in her hand with its two bright pink lines that indicated, yes, she was indeed pregnant.

“Oh, my God,” she breathed, staring at the two lines in wonder.

I’m having a baby. Hudson’s baby!

Again.

She blinked against a spate of tears and told herself that all she had to do was step through the door and tell Hudson, who was waiting downstairs. He’d wished her luck as she’d hurried up the steps of her condo, pregnancy test kit tight in her hand.