Three Dog Island Read online

  “Mark? I think so. He said he was going to.”

  “When?”

  “I’m not sure. A couple days before—before he was shot.”

  “Dori, how close were Bob and his partner Mark?”

  “Very close. They’d been partners for years. They were like brothers. They really loved each other.”

  From what I had seen of Mark Simpson, he was not capable of loving anyone.

  “Why are you asking me these questions?” Her forehead wrinkled as though her brain was trying to process what I was implying.

  “If Bob wanted out, it would put Mark and his operation at risk.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “We’re investigating all possibilities here.”

  “But Mark took a bullet trying to save Bob!” She was beginning to grasp exactly what I was saying.

  “Did he?”

  She was staring right through me. The wheels were turning now. “I think you need to go now. I’m sorry. I need to rest.”

  “Of course.” I was tempted to hand her my card but couldn’t risk this not going the way I wanted it to and putting Josh in further jeopardy. It was risky enough that I’d given her my name, not that she would remember it. “I’ll check in with you in the next couple days to see how you’re doing.”

  Not really hearing me, she nodded. She had other things on her mind. Things I had put there. She followed me to the door. Before leaving, I said, “I’m sorry about your husband, Dori. Very sorry.”

  “Thank you— I’m sorry, I’ve forgotten your name?”

  “Jenny.”

  She closed the door behind me. I crossed the street and climbed into the Range Rover.

  “What happened?” MacGregor asked, starting the engine. “Where are we going now?”

  “Wherever Dori Arellano takes us.”

  “That was fast,” MacGregor said, making a U-turn as Dori backed out of the driveway and headed down the street. “Where do you think she’s going?”

  “Either to the police station or to the Wallace’s. Wherever she’s likely to find Mark Simpson.”

  “How do you know?”

  I took a long sip of my water, pulled my arms out of my jacket and fastened my seatbelt.

  “Let’s just say I said enough to light a fire of doubt under her.”

  “She’s driving like a wild woman.”

  “A very angry wild woman.” I watched her swerve in and out of cars, gun the accelerator and slam on the brakes. It was like watching a light bulb light up in the woman’s thoughts. Enlightenment, realization, doubt. More vivid was the anger that suddenly consumed her from her head down to her toes.

  “The Wallaces.” I recognized the street names.

  “You’re not going in alone this time.” MacGregor reached under his seat.

  “I didn’t know you carried a gun.”

  “Only when Charlie asks me to keep his daughter safe.”

  Actually I was glad he had brought one along. Despite my peace keeping tactics, every now and then, guns helped keep that peace, or at least they helped keep me calm.

  We parked well behind Dori’s car and waited until she went inside. Grace was home from work and opened the door for her friend, giving her a quick hug before inviting her inside. There was a beat-up truck in the driveway—Al’s pickup that Josh had described—and Mark Simpson’s police car behind it.

  “Bingo,” I said, dialing my cell phone.

  Charlie answered on the first ring. Before he could ask any questions, I told him what was happening. “Call the police for us Charlie. Have them stand by outside in case we need them, but be sure they don’t run their sirens or interrupt what’s going on. Oh, and Charlie?”

  “Aye, darlin’?”

  “Make sure they’re the good cops.”

  Three minutes later Charlie called me back. “The cavalry is on its way,” he said.

  “No sirens?”

  “Nope. They wanted to take over but I told them enough to convince them to stay outside until they’re needed.”

  “How did you convince them since you weren’t here to charm them in person?”

  Charlie chuckled. “Let’s just say my reputation precedes me.”

  “And?”

  “And I told them you have a way of getting the truth out of people.”

  “Thanks, Charlie.”

  “Jenny?”

  “Yes?”

  “Be careful, darlin’, and tell MacGregor if he doesn’t take proper care of you, he’ll have me to answer to.”

  I glanced over at MacGregor who could undoubtedly hear every word of the conversation. “He already knows.”

  I left everything in the car except for my cell which I switched onto video record and slid into my jeans pocket. This time the picture might come in handy as well as the audio. MacGregor kept on his jacket with his gun neatly tucked inside a pocket. I turned on my tape recorder and inserted it in his other pocket. A backup might be useful.

  “Our plan?” he asked.

  I shook my head.

  “Just as I suspected,” he said, following me around to the side door off the kitchen, the same door Al and Josh had used the day Bob Arellano had been killed. It was closed, but the kitchen window was cracked open. I slipped my cell from my pocket and held it below the window.

  “Looks like Dori’s doing our work for us,” MacGregor, who was tall enough to see in the window, whispered. “She just pulled a gun on the cop.” He ducked down beside me.

  “What the hell?” Mark Simpson’s voice. “Are you crazy?”

  “Yeah, I’m crazy! You killed him! You killed my husband, you bastard!”

  “What the hell are you talking about? I tried to save him!”

  “Sure you did. He wanted out of your little operation so you set him up to get killed. You might as well have pulled the trigger yourself, you bastard!”

  “Dori! Calm down! That’s not true. You know I loved Bob. We were partners. We had each other’s back. You know that.”

  “Don’t move, you bastard or I’ll kill you! I swear I will!”

  “Grace! Calm her down!” I assumed that was Al Wallace’s voice pleading with his wife. “She’s lost her mind!”

  “Dori, honey, what’s this about?” Grace’s voice.

  Dori’s response was too soft for me to hear, until the anger resurfaced. “No! Don’t you dare touch this gun!”

  I couldn’t tell if she was yelling at Grace or at Al, but clearly she was the person in control.

  “Admit it! I just want to hear you admit it!”

  “It’s not true!” Mark yelled. “Dori, don’t!”

  The gun went off and a woman screamed. Grace, I assumed.

  “Jesus Christ, Dori! You shot him!” Al yelled.

  “Just like he shot my husband. Or got him killed.”

  Mark Simpson was groaning, obviously still alive.

  There was the sound of a tussle and then a thud. “Grace, get the gun!” Al yelled and we could pretty much picture what had happened.

  “I think this is our cue,” MacGregor said.

  I shook my head. “Wait!” I whispered. “Let’s see what Grace does.”

  “Get back, you murdering bastards!” Grace yelled. Dori had told her enough to convince her that she had reason to shoot Mark Simpson.

  “Gracie! What are you doing?” Al said. I could visualize him moving slowly toward her.

  “I’m doing what I should have done a long time ago! First you go after my son! And now you kill my best friend’s husband!? What kind of animals are you?”

  “We didn’t do anything to Josh,” Al defended. “What are you talking about?”

  “Sure you didn’t! You’ve been hunting him down like an animal.”

  “What? Have you been in touch with him? Has he been calling?”

  Silence, then Grace’s timid response. “Not since I told you he called.”

  “So, you don’t know what you’re talking about. Now give me that gun and go call an a
mbulance for Mark!”

  A second gun shot went off and then a loud thud.

  “What the hell? I can’t believe you did that! You’re both nuts!”

  Mark Simpson had regained his strength, at least enough to talk. “Come on, Grace! You know this is all crazy. We would never hurt Josh. Or Bob! Shit, Dori, I took a bullet trying to save him! I tried to pull him out of the line of fire for God’s sake! How do you explain that?”

  I nodded at MacGregor and he jabbed a pin into the backdoor lock to pop it. When that didn’t work, he rammed it with his shoulder. I’d be putting ice on that sucker later. I tried to squeeze past him, to no avail. He led the way, his gun in his hand now.

  Four pairs of eyes were staring at us as we entered the kitchen.

  “You didn’t try to pull your partner out of the line of fire,” I said, glaring at the two men lying on the floor, one holding his arm, the other holding his leg. “You pushed him into the line of fire.”

  Mark Simpson glowered at me. “Who the hell are you?” Obviously he didn’t recognize me as the deaf patron of the diner.

  “A private investigator,” I said as MacGregor released Mark’s handcuffs from his belt and attached one set to Mark’s wrists and the other to Al’s.

  “You’re all crazy!” Mark yelled. “All of you. You’re handcuffing the wrong people! They shot us, you idiots! You should be carting off these two bitches!”

  He was really endearing himself to the people with the guns here.

  “I don’t think so.” MacGregor stepped back beside the two women and carefully slipped the gun from Grace’s hand.

  “How do you explain this?” Mark motioned toward his shoulder. “I got hit myself! If I’d been trying to get Bob killed, would I have taken a hit?”

  “Makes sense.” I paused as Mark Simpson and Al Wallace both sighed with relief at the voice of reason. “Only one tiny detail is missing here. You weren’t shot during the bust. You were shot afterwards. By Al. That’s why you called him that afternoon. You didn’t need his help handcuffing the guys you busted. You needed him to shoot you in the shoulder to make it look like you were trying to save Bob.”

  “How the hell do you—?” He stopped himself before making a full confession“Not rocket science,” I said, borrowing Josh’s expression. “There was a gun shot after Al was on the scene.” Josh hadn’t quite said that. He had said a shot was fired when he was on his bike, looking for Al. But a minor detail was not going to stop me from making them think we knew the truth.

  Mark’s head fell forward in a fleeting gesture of defeat. Still protesting, he refused to give in. “Why would I do that? Any of this?

  “Because Bob wanted out of your little operation,” I said.

  “What operation?” He was still feigning innocence.

  “Your operation on Waterloo Island,” I said.

  “You know about that?” Grace looked over at me.

  “Shut up, Grace!” Al Wallace’s nostrils were flaring as he glared at his wife.

  “We know all about it,” I assured them.

  “You might want to finish with that confession of yours, Simpson” MacGregor said.

  “And why would I want to do that?”

  MacGregor held Dori’s gun out to her. “Because if you don’t, I might just be inclined to give this back to the ladies and let them do whatever they want with it.”

  I grinned at him. “And if they don’t, maybe I will.”

  “Okay, okay, I admit it. He had turned against us.”

  “He just wanted out,” Dori cried. “He wasn’t going to blow the whistle on you!”

  “You don’t know that. We couldn’t take a chance!”

  “So you killed him!”

  “We did what we had to do.”

  I could see Dori considering grabbing the gun from MacGregor and following through with what she had come here to do, just as a couple squad cars pulled up. I rewound my recorder enough for them to hear Mark’s confession. I would email them the video from my cell. Handy tools we detectives now had. Shortly afterwards, the police hauled the foursome off. Two stayed behind to take our statements and to go through the house.

  After we had finished giving them a detailed account of the past few weeks’ activities, I took a slow walk through the house myself, Josh’s house.

  “Strange, eh?” MacGregor said. “To think this is where Josh lived, and these are the people in his life.”

  “Definitely strange.” Grace Wallace was an impeccable housekeeper. Of course, she was. She had to do something with her nervous energy. Or was it fear of an abusive husband’s disapproval?

  I opened bedroom doors until I found Josh’s room. With the policemen’s permission, I started taking things out of drawers and off shelves and piling them on the bed.

  MacGregor didn’t ask. He just went to the kitchen and found some large trash bags and started filling them with Josh’s things. We didn’t pack everything, only the things that we felt he would want—his alto saxophone and his sheet music, his CD collection, some clothes, books, miscellaneous items of sentimental value. Charlie had an extra music stand he could use. Anything was better than the mangled one sitting in the corner of his room. I wondered whose outburst it had fallen victim to.

  “You don’t want him to come back here,” MacGregor said.

  “Not if he doesn’t have to.”

  After piling the bags into the back of the car, we thanked the two policemen who had cordoned off the kitchen as a crime scene and were still searching for evidence to connect the corrupt cops to their skimming operation. Charlie had done a good job of explaining the situation to them.

  It was over. Josh could live a normal life again. As normal as it could be without either of his parents.

  Chapter 26

  It wasn’t until we were lying in bed at the bed and breakfast that MacGregor asked, “How did you figure it out, McNair?”

  “I’m not sure. I think it had to do with Jasper’s ‘Tug of Heart’ sculpture and your teaching Josh about potential energy. And then when I saw Josh this morning”—was that really just this morning?—”he mentioned that there was another gunshot just before he reached the house.”

  “You’re amazing, you know that?”

  I laughed one of those self-conscious laughs I recognize in other people more easily than in myself. “I don’t know, MacGregor. You were pretty handy yourself with that gun and those handcuffs. Trained by the best, I assume?”

  “Aye, Charlie McNair himself. But you were the one who figured it all out.”

  “You give me too much credit. I was just following my intuition.”

  “Impressive in itself. So, where would you like to go for dinner this evening?”

  I narrowed my eyes as I studied him. “Wherever you made reservations.”

  “A lovely restaurant overlooking the river, walking distance.”

  “Sounds perfect. But don’t get the impression you can always make these decisions unilaterally.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it. I just figured you’d be a wee bit too distracted today to give it much thought.”

  For a man who had never been married, he certainly understood women well. “This is true. I was just a wee bit preoccupied with resolving this case.”

  “And other things.” He raised himself onto his elbow so he could look down at me. “I hope.”

  I reached up and pulled him closer. “What time was that reservation?”

  “We’ve plenty of time, darlin’. Plenty of time.”

  While we were seated at our table overlooking the river, Josh called us back from Charlie’s. “Your message said it was all over. Is it really?”

  “It is.”

  I heard the sigh of relief through the phone and could visualize his boyish face begin the long process of releasing the tension that had become a way of life. “But there’s something I have to tell you, Josh.”

  “I know. My mother will probably have to go to prison.”

  “Yes.”
I filled him in on the details of the afternoon’s events. I intercepted his question before he asked it. “We’ve packed up some of your things.”

  “My things?”

  “From the house. We thought you might need them. We’ll bring them home with us.”

  “I can stay? With you on the island?”

  “And with MacGregor and Charlie if that’s okay with you.”

  “Okay with me?”

  “If you don’t mind being shuffled around a bit.”

  “I can just keep home schooling! But you’re sure it’s okay with Mac and Charlie? You’ve already talked to them about it?”

  “I have and yes, it’s fine with both of them. Charlie will arrange it with child protective services.”

  “Will I be able to—?” He did not want to seem ungrateful.

  “Play some sports?” I finished for him. “Absolutely. Charlie and MacGregor will push for soccer and rugby, but don’t let them prejudice you.”

  MacGregor laughed and reached over to squeeze my free hand as he listened to my phone conversation.

  “And Charlie was very serious when he said he’d love for you to play with his band whenever you can.”

  “Did you bring—? By any chance, did you see my—?” Again, a reluctance to appear unappreciative.

  “Your alto sax? It was the first thing we grabbed.”

  Josh was still in a euphoric state when we hung up.

  “Sounds like you’ve made someone very happy,” MacGregor said.

  “We all have. Thank you for your part in this.”

  “As I’ve said before, McNair. It’s my pleasure.”

  Josh kept shaking his head as he pulled his things one by one out of the plastic bags. Finally, when both bags were empty, he looked up at me. “How did you know what stuff I would want?”

  “I think after a month of living together, I know you—just a little.”

  He walked across the bedroom that used to be my brother’s. His hug still had an awkward edge to it, but that wouldn’t be the case for much longer, I thought. He was part of the family now. “Thank you, Jenny.” He was on the verge of saying more but swallowed the words.

  “Josh, your mom wanted me to be sure to tell you how much she loves you and misses you and how sorry she is for getting you into this mess.”