Booked to Kill, page 19
Standing, Olivia considered calling Jack back to let him know her change of plans. She didn’t want to bother him when he was busy. She’d send him a text to let him know what was happening, grab her check, then be back to The Mad Batter before he was even finished with Mason. Hope bounced around like a buoy inside her chest. The storm she’d weathered had been fierce, nearly destroying her, but she’d made it through. And finally, she was starting to see the rainbow on the other end.
* * *
“Here we go again,” Jack said as he and Max stood side by side, waiting for the door to open. Mason Shaffer’s building wasn’t as upscale as he’d expected, but the hallway had a fresh coat of tan paint, and the carpet was clean. “Hopefully this time we have a better outcome.”
His phone dinged, alerting him to an incoming text message, but the door opened before he could look at it.
A man with a crisp part in his gelled hair greeted them. “Can I help you?”
The man had the same green eyes and boyish looks as Mason, but it wasn’t him. Jack flashed his badge. “We’re looking for Mason Shaffer. Is he home?”
“Not here. Sorry.” The man took a step back and made a motion of shutting them out.
Max took a step forward before the door swung in their faces. “I’m Detective Green and this is my partner, Detective Stone. We just have a few questions. Is this Mason Shaffer’s place of residence?”
“Yes. But he’s not here. Hasn’t been in a few days, actually. Haven’t seen him either, so I’m not sure how I can help you. Now if you’ll excuse me, I was on my way out to meet my girl for brunch.”
Jack stood his ground. “Just a few more questions Mr...”
“Shaffer. Chip Shaffer,” he said with a dramatic sigh. “You’ve got two minutes or Whitney will kill me if I’m late.”
“You and Mason look alike,” Jack said. “Are you related?”
Chip ran a hand over his hair, as if smoothing back the perfectly manicured strands. “He’s my big brother. Not like he’s acted like it lately. I swear. One thing goes off the rails in his structured little world, and bam! He’s a hot mess.”
Every muscle in Jack’s body tightened. The urge to grab the prick by the neck and squeeze more information out of him had him fisting his hands into tight balls at his sides. “Care to elaborate?”
“Dude, seriously,” Chip said with an exaggerated eye roll. He tapped a finger to his watch. “We’re down to one minute. I don’t have time to go over everything.”
Jack couldn’t stop the low growl bubbling up his throat. He took a step forward, pressing into Chip’s personal space, when a hard hand on his shoulder kept him in place.
“Listen, Buddy,” Max cut in. “We don’t care about your brunch or your girlfriend. We need to know what’s going on with your brother. Now. Either answer our questions here or we’ll drag your punk ass down to the station. Then Whitney will really be pissed.”
“Geez, fine,” Chip said, lifting his palms in front of him. “Mason lost his job last week. It really messed with his head. The guy’s like a well-oiled machine. Always has been. He likes things done a certain way and works his ass off. But if something doesn’t go the way he planned, he doesn’t handle it well. Throws him all out of whack. Not like I blame the guy. Lucked out when some dude died, and he stepped into his shoes. Now he’s been tossed out on his ass.”
Last week. Right before Courtney Bailey was murdered. The timing lined up. “And by not handling it well, what exactly do you mean?” Jack hadn’t found any dings on Mason’s record to indicate a temper or criminal tendencies.
“He blows off steam, I guess. Disappears for days. My guess is he’s out drinking or gambling. Maybe banging some chick.” Chip chuckled, and the slimy sound grated against Jack’s eardrums. “Hopefully banging some chick.”
God, this guy was the worst. Not really wanting to hear the details, but needing to know, Jack asked, “Why would you hope he was with a woman?”
“He doesn’t date. I try to set him up, get him to hang out with me and my crew, but he’s never interested. Always talks about how he’s waiting for the right woman. But, what about Ms. Right Now, you know what I mean.” He extended a closed fist toward Max as if wanting a fist bump, like he was in on the joke. When Max didn’t make a move to comply, Chip shrugged and let his hand drop to his side.
Max ground his teeth together. “No. I don’t know what you mean. So you’re saying you haven’t seen your brother in a few days, and that he was upset about losing his job? Does that about cover it?”
“Pretty much.”
“Do you have any idea where he is? Is there a place he goes when he’s upset? Friends he leans on?” Jack asked.
Matt shrugged. “Don’t know. Can I leave now?”
“Just one more question. Did you and your brother spend a lot of time with your grandmother?” After everything he’d learned, how much time Mason did or didn’t spend with his grandma didn’t really matter. Chip had spilled enough information on Mason to shoot him to the top of Jack’s most wanted list. But he wanted to get as much information as he could while this idiot was talking.
The first genuine smile lifted Chip’s lips. “We did. Mom worked nights, so we’d stay with Nana. She was always so fun. Spoiled us in whatever way she could. Took us to the park, bought our favorite pizza for dinner, always had glass dishes of candy around her apartment.”
“Do you still see her often?” Max asked.
Chip’s smile fall. “Nah. She died a little over a year ago.” He cleared his throat. “I have to go.”
Jack dug in his pocket for a business card and handed it over. “We really need to speak with your brother. If you see him, or find out where he is, it’s very important that you call me.”
For the first time, concern clouded the stupid look on Chip’s face. “Umm. All right. Is he in some kind of trouble?”
Jack considered how to answer the question. He didn’t want to say too much in case Chip was lying and ran to tell Mason about their conversation. But he also didn’t want to downplay how important it was Mason was found. “The sooner we’re able to talk to him, the sooner we’ll know the answer to that for sure.”
They left Chip standing in the doorway and hurried back to Max’s car.
Once inside, Jack checked his phone for messages. The one from Olivia made uneasiness settle on his shoulders.
“What is it?” Max asked, checking the road before merging into traffic.
“Olivia went to get a check at the gallery.”
“Alone?”
“No, Christine went with her. I still don’t like it, though. Not with Mason unaccounted for, and not knowing for certain he’s our guy. Will you take me to my car? I want to head there and make sure they’re okay.”
“Yeah. I’m sure everything’s fine, though. Mason is looking sketchier and sketchier. While you get Olivia, I’ll start looking for places he could be hiding.”
The unease tightened, smothering him and making it hard to breathe. They were closing in on a killer, but with Olivia out of his sight, he hadn’t felt further from resolving the case.
Chapter 23
All the lights were off in the gallery, and the thin sheet of plywood still stood in place of the busted door. Edward mentioned getting insurance money for her paintings but hadn’t mentioned if he’d received payment to cover the destruction. Hopefully he’d get what was owed for the renovations. Olivia hated that she’d doubted him, and now, she wanted to see him get back on his feet. But that wouldn’t happen if he couldn’t reopen the gallery soon.
“Wow. You told me this place was vandalized, but I didn’t expect this,” Christine said, pushing open the flimsy barrier and crossing over the threshold.
Olivia scrunched her nose. “I know. I feel so bad. But if he got the insurance company to reimburse him so quickly, he can get this mess cleaned in no time.”
“Olivia? Is that you?” Edward’s nasal voice bounced out to the front of the room, echoing off the high ceiling.
“Yes,” she answered. “Are you in your office?”
“Sure am. Come on back. I’ll give you the check really quick. Then I have to get going.”
She gestured for Christine to follow and made her way to the office that took up the right side of the room. She tried to avert her gaze from the bare walls but couldn’t manage not to peek. The white walls couldn’t have been more depressing if they’d been painted black. “That’s where my pieces were that were ruined. Plus one on an easel in the back,” she explained.
“Did Edward tell you how much the check is worth?” Christine asked, walking slowly as she took in the damage.
“No. Fingers crossed it’s close to what they would have sold for.” She’d fretted over the payment amount. Money was tight, and there was no telling how long it’d take to sell the loft. And as much as she appreciated her brother subletting her his rental property, that apartment was tainted. She’d never be comfortable there alone.
Hurrying over the dusty wood floor, she braced herself for what waited. She’d be grateful for whatever she was handed. “I can’t believe the insurance company came through so fast,” she said, swinging into the office.
Her feet turned to lead, and her stomach dropped down. She blinked, not understanding what she was seeing and wishing it wasn’t real. Edward sat at the desk. Tears ran down his face, his red-rimmed eyes wide with fear. Mason stood beside him with the barrel of a gun pressed against Edward’s temple.
A sneer twisted Mason’s lips. “You’re finally here, Olivia. I thought I’d have to make my new friend Edward here call you again.”
“I’m so sorry. I hate myself for telling you to come. But he said he’d kill me. He pulled out the gun. I didn’t have a choice.” Edward’s words tumbled out of his mouth between sobs. His shoulders shook as if he couldn’t control his erratic breathing.
Her mind struggled to make sense of his words—of Mason’s presence. Of the gun. Oh God, the gun.
Footsteps approached the office. “So what’s the magic number?” Christine asked, stepping inside.
Bang!
The blast of the gun rang in Olivia’s ears, and she tensed, waiting for pain to erupt.
Christine fell to the ground face-first, her head bouncing off the ground, blood pooling underneath her from some unseen wound.
“No! Christine!” She turned to rush for her friend.
“Don’t move,” Mason said, voice low and calm.
Bile crept up her throat, burning her esophagus. Her entire body trembled, and she couldn’t tear her gaze from the sight of her best friend in a bloody heap on the floor. She needed to get to her, to help her. But one wrong move put them all in even more danger.
“You shouldn’t have brought anyone with you.” Mason clucked his tongue as if scolding her. “I can’t have your friend running off and telling that damn cop what’s going on. That’d ruin everything—everything I’ve planned for us for so long.”
She tried her hardest to calm her racing pulse and think clearly. Sweat coated her palms and her mind was stuck in a sea of quicksand—all her thoughts emerging slow and muddled. She had to figure out how to get them all out of this mess. But for the life of her, she had no clue how. Except to do whatever Mason wanted. Get him out of here so Edward could call the police and get help for Christine. When she had only herself to worry about, then she could plan her escape.
Needing to make Mason believe her, she faced him and tried to force a smile. But her quivering lips made it impossible. “I won’t move. I promise. But can’t we get help for Christine? There’s a lot of blood. She needs medical attention now.” Her voice broke and moisture blurred her vision.
Don’t fall apart. Keep it together. You won’t save anyone if you lose it.
“Do you think I’m stupid?” Mason asked, a mixture of amusement and irritation clipping his words. “If you call for help, they’ll try to stop me. Try to stop us from living the life we were meant to have.”
“What’s your plan? It can’t be to hang out with me and Edward in the office of the gallery. If we call paramedics to take care of Christine, we can leave before they get here. No one will know where we are. No one will ruin your plan.” Her knees trembled, and she inched her fingers to her phone nestled in the side pocket of her leggings. If she could hit the call button, just call anyone who could hear what was going on, someone could come and get them out of this mess.
“Of course my plan isn’t to hang out here with him.” He twisted the gun harder against Edward’s skull. “This is just the beginning. The beginning of a wonderful life together. I needed to get you alone, away from that damn detective who keeps sniffing around.”
“Please. Stop.” Edward said, his voice small and childlike. He hunched his shoulders to his ears, as if bracing for the worst.
“You’ve got me.” She cleared the fear and panic from her throat. The croissant she’d eaten rebelled in her stomach. Every instinct in her body screamed at her to check on Christine and make sure she was alive. But one wrong move, one wrong word, and Christine might not be the only one who ended up with a bullet in them. “Now what?”
He dipped his chin toward her hand. “Now you keep moving toward your phone, then give it here,” he said, lifting his palm.
Her heart sank, but she did as instructed. Now wasn’t the time to test him. Not with Edward near his breaking point and Christine possibly bleeding to death on the floor. She tossed her phone, the weight of it leaving her grasp like the loss of a limb—or a lifeline.
Mason snatched the phone from the air, threw it on the floor, and stomped his heel on it—twisting his foot for good measure as the device splintered into pieces, then kicked the debris across the floor. “Good girl. Now we don’t have to worry about any pesky interruptions.”
A small groan alerted her to Christine, who slithered slightly on the ground. Hope rose inside her, only to be snuffed out by the realization that if Mason noticed her waking up, he might take aim a second time and finish her off. She needed to get him out of here. Now.
“Okay. No more phone. Just me and you. Now tell me what’s next.”
A sickening smile lifted his lips. “Now it’s time to start the rest of our lives together. I’ve been so patient. Made so many plans. And now it’s all coming together. I can’t tell you how happy I am.” He rounded the corner and extended a hand to her.
She stared at his long, slender fingers. The bile from before coated her tongue and panic tightened her muscles. Ignoring every instinct yelling not to go with him, she took a step forward and grabbed his hand.
“Oops. One more thing.” Mason lifted the gun, then brought the butt of the weapon down hard on the side of Edward’s head.
Edward’s body went limp, his face slamming down on the desk.
Olivia swallowed a scream and sent a silent plea for help into the universe.
Mason gave a tug on her hand and led her out of the office, the gun still in his hand, but tucked into his jacket pocket. “All right, my love. It’s time to go home.”
* * *
Once in his car, Jack called Olivia again. He cursed when the call went straight to voice mail. He’d already tried her line three times on the way to grab his vehicle parked outside the town house Max shared with his fiancé. Now he peeled onto the quiet street, a sense of dread causing him to push the gas pedal to the floor.
His phone rang, and hope soared only to come to a screeching halt when Max’s information appeared on the touch screen on the dashboard. “Hear anything?” he asked after accepting the call. “I’m losing my mind. I called the gallery and there was no answer. If we were off the mark and Edward is the one behind this, if I let my emotions and jealousy sway me into sinking my hooks in Mason, and Olivia winds up hurt... I’ll never forgive myself. Tell me you’ve heard something.”
“I just got off the phone with Officer Whitton.”
“From Cold Spring? What did he want?” A yellow taxi swerved in front of him, cutting him off. He blasted the horn.
“Marta woke up.”
A ribbon of relief wove through the terror tightening his insides. “Oh thank God. Did she see who attacked her?”
“She told Whitton that a well-dressed man in his late twenties, early thirties strolled into the inn. All smiles. Blond hair. Green eyes. Boy next door charm pouring from him in waves.”
“Mason.” A beat of validation strummed through him, but the elation didn’t last long. Although it was nice to know he hadn’t let his feelings for Olivia mess with his judgment, that didn’t mean shit with Mason on the loose and Olivia not answering his calls.
“Yep. The smug asshole even gave her his name. He claimed Olivia was his wife. That she was in Cold Spring with a coworker, and he’d come by unexpectedly to surprise her. Marta was so impressed by his romantic gesture, she told him which room to find Olivia in.”
“That’s how he knew which rooms we were staying in. Olivia’s sketchbook only confirmed it.” He blew out a frustrated breath. He couldn’t blame Marta for believing Mason’s story. The man understood how to lay on the charm and win people over. He’d read Mason like a book from the first time they’d met. Besides, Mason would have found another way to get to Olivia if Marta hadn’t confided the room number.
He turned toward the gallery. The old, converted warehouse was visible down the congested street. “What happened after she gave Mason the room information?”
“When she turned her back, he attacked her from behind. It’s surprising he didn’t kill her. Having her as a witness will be crucial.”
“It won’t matter if we have a witness or not if we can’t find the bastard.” A small miracle occurred, and a spot opened up on the street a few buildings away from A Peculiar Sight. He signaled his intention to slide into the spot.
