Page 7

CHAPTER SEVEN

I decided Jack was right, so I ran upstairs and washed my face so I didn’t scare Doug. Once I washed my face I decided to change into gray sweats and thick socks. I felt sane by the time I made my way back downstairs. I stopped by the kitchen and made a cup of coffee. My head was pounding after the crying jag, and Jack told me I could have two cups a day. I trusted Jack with my life, so I figured I could trust him with my coffee consumption.

I made a cup for Jack too, and then brought them both back to his office. The office was one of my favorite rooms in the house. It was wholly masculine, yet homey at the same time. It was also one of the larger rooms in the house by design. We spent a lot of time working in this space, so when we’d had to rebuild after the explosion Jack had said we needed to make it count. He hadn’t been kidding. It was larger than our living room.

A large stone fireplace dominated one wall, and there was a bank of windows that looked out over massive fir trees and the cliffs. The windows were outfitted with privacy screens Jack could engage from the control panel on his desk. There was a brown leather couch and chairs in front of the fireplace, and a massive walnut desk sat on the opposite side of the room with bookshelves at its back. There was a conference table in the middle of the room where Doug had already set up his computer and was fast at work. The plate with my sandwich at the end of the table and potato chips were piled high on top of it.

I handed Jack his coffee and then took my plate and made myself comfortable on the couch.

“I’ve got the guest list from Jack’s email,” Doug said as he tapped both his feet to the beat of his own drum while making his way through a pile of chips.

“You got in my email?” Jack asked, brow arched.

“For the greater good,” Doug assured him. “Don’t worry. It’s not like I’m snooping through your correspondence.”

“We talked about boundaries, Doug.”

“I know, I know,” Doug said. “Sorry. I’ll ask first next time. But look at this guest list. There are five hundred people on here.”

“Theo is the son of a diplomat,” I said. “They’re probably pretty popular people.”

“Margot is working on getting the list organized, aren’t you darling?” Doug asked his computer, patting her gently.

The problem with geniuses like Doug and his Uncle Ben were that you had to deal with the eccentricities that came along with them. They’d been focused on artificial intelligence back when none of us had even heard of the concept. Now we were almost used to the AI computers they built and talked to as if they were real people.

Doug said it was good to have casual conversation with them because it helped their brains grow. I’d seen too many movies to be comfortable with AI brains growing and taking over the world, so I typically didn’t engage unless I had to.

Something else Doug and Ben both had in common was who they programmed their AI bots after. They were always women with sexy voices and skills in flirtation and innuendo, along with having access to the kind of information that could topple governments. It somehow made it creepier than it already was. Margot was Doug’s latest iteration, and she was a real handful.

“Already done, darling,” Margot purred, and information sprung onto the electronic whiteboards that had been built into two of the walls. “I took the liberty of doing a search on my own. I hope you don’t mind.”

“You know I never do,” Doug said. “You’re the best.”

“It’s true,” Margot said. “I am far superior to your previous models, wouldn’t you agree, Jack?”

Jack grinned at me and shook his head. “I make assessments based on merit.”

“Understood,” Margot replied. “Please see the lists I’ve generated on screen one, and then I’ll patiently wait for your response to my impressive mental acuity.”

Jack’s lips twitched and he moved to stand in front of the whiteboards, his arms crossed over his chest.

“Explain to me what you did, Margot,” Jack said.

“I’ve culled the list and organized it,” she said. “The first column is family, listed in order from immediate to extended. The next is the wedding party. I ran a probability scan, using the data from Dr. Graves’s autopsy findings, and the viciousness with which the female victim was killed, including the gunshot wounds to the genitalia. That would suggest the killer is male based on similar data.”

There was a slight pause as the whiteboard continued to be filled with data.

“If you want my opinion,” Margot continued, her voice lowered as if she was telling someone’s deepest darkest secret. “This seems very personal to me. Jealousy could be a factor. There’s nothing like a lover scorned.”

Jack’s lips twitched with humor and he raised his eyebrows at me. “Thank you, Margot. We’ll take it into consideration.”

“Terrifying,” I mouthed so she wouldn’t hear me.

“As I was saying,” Margot said. “List three is male attendees between the ages of eighteen to fifty, though according to the data I’ve accessed from FBI profilers on similar cases you are probably looking at someone between the age of twenty-five to forty-five.

“List four is male attendees who attended the wedding solo. List five is the names of females who have been romantically involved with the groom. I have no known data on the female victim in that regard.”

“Nothing like bringing your past to your wedding,” I said, surprised to see a rather lengthy list of Theo’s past relationships.

“Humans have considerable hang-ups in regards to past relationships,” Margot said. “I’ve found it quite fascinating the insecurities that come to light when confronting a spouse’s prior lover. I would have no such issue with this.”

“You wouldn’t mind if Doug brought Magnolia back on the occasional case?” I couldn’t help but ask.

Doug looked at me with panic in his eyes and used his hand to make a slicing motion across his throat.

“That would, of course, be Doug’s prerogative,” Margot said, though her voice was several degrees cooler. “But I would take my solace in knowing that I was Doug’s current choice and that Magnolia had been stripped of every wire and circuit board and thrown in the trash. At least, he told me he threw her in the trash. Right, Doug?”

“There’s nobody but you,” he assured her quickly.

“Huh,” I said, lips twitching, and Doug glared at me.

“This is a good list,” Jack said, breaking in to defuse the tension. Jack was always a little bit concerned that one of Doug’s devices would self-destruct at some point and take us all out with it. “And I agree with you on the male shooter. He made it personal in the way he killed her. Maybe a jilted lover. But we can’t overlook the fact that he’s also an experienced shooter. Maybe former military. There was a precision to those shots on Chloe Vasilios.”

“I’ve highlighted names of those who have registered weapons, who are former military, or belong to associations such as the NRA,” Margot said.

“Thank you,” Jack told her politely. “That makes the list more manageable.”

“Jack,” I said, coming to my feet to stand beside him. “Look at list four.”

“What am I looking at?” he asked. “Or should I ask who am I looking at?”

“Richmond Dexter Harlowe IV,” I said.

“You have got to be kidding me,” Jack said, taking out his phone. “How in the world would he have any ties to the former ambassador to Greece?”

“You never know with Dickie,” I said. “He’s an enigma.”

Dickie Harlowe had been one of my and Jack’s closest friends in high school. There’d been five of us, and a ragtag group we’d been. Jack had been captain of the football team and the most popular guy in school. He’d been one of those guys who’d been destined for success. You could look at him, even at fifteen, and know that he was going to make an impact in some capacity. It didn’t hurt that he had the alpha charisma that made men want to be him and women want to throw themselves at him.

Dickie had been Jack’s total opposite in high school. He was the math whiz, Lord of the Rings enthusiast, and wouldn’t know a football if it hit him on the side of the head. Dickie’s real name was Richmond Dexter Harlowe the IV, and he’d inherited the presidency of First National Bank from Dickies I, II, and III. His destiny had been chosen from birth. The Harlowes were old money, alcoholics, and womanizers. Unfortunately, Dickie hadn’t made an attempt to break any of those cycles.

Our merry band had been rounded out by Vaughn Raines and Eddie Turner. Vaughn and Eddie were both upstanding citizens and led regular middle-class lives. We didn’t see them as much as we once had, but we stayed in touch.

To be honest, I’m not sure how I came to be part of our gang. I’m a couple of years younger than the guys, and I’d been the ugly duckling wallflower. Back when I was a kid, there’d been no other families on Heresy Road besides Jack’s, so I’d been trailing after him ever since. My parents hadn’t spent a lot of time at home, so they hadn’t noticed my daily ramblings across tobacco fields or harrowing adventures climbing down to the Potomac to skip rocks.

When I’d said Dickie was an enigma I meant it. I’d known Dickie almost my whole life, and I wasn’t sure I really knew anything about him. Dickie was all surface. He was a smart guy, but I’d always thought there was an underlying jealousy in Dickie that he’d never been as likeable or popular as Jack, no matter how much money he had or how much smarter he was.

But things had changed for Dickie when he’d gone off to college. He’d filled out in his shoulders and he’d started going to the gym. Gone was the scrawny nerd with glasses and a shy smile. It was a transformation that took all of us by surprise when he’d come home for Christmas break the first time. Along with his new physical appearance, he’d taken on some characteristics that reminded me that he was very much still a Harlowe. He hadn’t changed toward us so much, but you could tell a lot about what kind of person someone was by how they treated other people.

I waited while Jack called Dickie, wondering if he would answer. It was Saturday night, and Dickie was always busy on a Saturday night. Saturdays were reserved for throwing money around, womanizing, and drinking.

“Dickie, it’s Jack,” he said. “This is important. Call me back as soon as you can. I don’t care what you’re doing. It’s important.”

“Saturday night,” I said as soon as he hung up. “You’ll be lucky to hear from him by tomorrow afternoon.”

“Yeah, I know. But maybe he can give some insight to the unlucky couple. Doug, we’ve also got the hotel guest list to sift through. Let’s by chance see if any of our wedding guests match up to the hotel list. We can sift through the others later.”

“Donna and Edward Kelso,” Margot said. “They checked in Wednesday at The Mad King and have a checkout scheduled for Monday.”

“Anyone else?” Jack asked.

“No,” she said. “Just the Kelsos. It’s more than an hour drive from the wedding venue to The Mad King. Probabilities would not be high that multiple guests would choose that as their destination versus a hotel closer to the wedding venue.”

“I wonder why the Kelsos did,” I said.

“We’ll make sure to ask them,” Jack said. “We’ll talk to them tomorrow along with Theo’s parents. Margot, go ahead and start a search looking for common ground from both the hotel list and the wedding list. We can’t forget we could also be looking for a professional hit man, so do a search for single men traveling alone and only staying one night at the resort. Look for other common factors like the Greece connection or political ties.”

“These are extensive lists,” Margot said. “It’ll take time to acquire the data.”

“That’s fine,” Jack said. “We’ve also got the surveillance footage and the golf cart trackers to check. I’ll have Derby start going through the camera footage and see if anything sticks out. I’d like to do a deep dive into Chloe Vasilios. Let’s see if her fingerprints or DNA lead us anywhere else.”

We were interrupted by the buzzer signaling that someone was at the gate, and Jack checked the time. “It’s after nine o’clock. Did you order food?” he asked, looking at Doug.

“No,” Doug said. “But now that you mention it pizza sounds like a pretty good idea.”

Jack hit a button on his desk and the camera appeared on the whiteboard showing a view of a red Porsche at the gate.

“It’s Dickie,” Jack said, brows raised in surprise. And then he hit another button so the gate slid open, and Dickie could drive through. “Guess he got my message.”

It wasn’t long until the doorbell rang and Oscar and Jack went to open it, though only Oscar barked at the intrusion. I went back to my place on the couch and got comfortable, pulling one of the oversized throws on top of me.

“You got a dog,” Dickie said as he came into the office. His tone wasn’t complimentary, and he eyed Oscar suspiciously.

Dickie wasn’t really a dog person. He was dressed in crisp gray slacks and an expensive shirt, and Oscar was staring at him with what I could only assume was immediate dislike. And it looked like the feeling was mutual. Considering Oscar had more brains than a lot of people I knew, and he was adorable in a way that only the truly ugly could be, I didn’t see what the problem was on Dickie’s part.

“Meet Oscar,” Jack said. “Don’t be rude. He understands everything you’re saying.”

“Hey, Dickie,” I said. “How’s it going? Come to lose some money in poker?”

“Not if I’m playing you,” Dickie said good-naturedly. “Don’t get up. You look comfortable.”

“I wasn’t planning on it,” I said, pulling my blanket up closer around my neck.

“So what’s going on?” Dickie asked. “What’s so important that you needed to talk to me?”

“You could’ve called,” Jack said. “I didn’t mean for you to drop everything and rush over here. I know you’re in high demand on Saturday nights.”

“Not really,” Dickie said, shrugging and walking around the room. “I’ve been taking a break. It’s always the same people and same conversations. Doesn’t matter if the party is in DC or New York or Palm Beach.”

I noticed that Doug had removed all the information from the whiteboards so they were blank.

“Everything okay?” Jack asked.

“I’ve just found myself at loose ends lately,” he said. “I was maybe thinking about getting married again.”

“That’s some news,” Jack said, brows raised in surprise.

“I didn’t realize you’d been seeing anyone seriously,” I said. “Jack’s mom is going to be pissed she missed that one.”

Dickie smiled, but there was no real humor in it. “

“I guess it wasn’t serious enough,” Dickie said. “It’s not going to work out after all. Now I’m thinking of moving instead. Maybe to the beach. Or Europe.”

“Whoa,” I said.

“I’m trying to get personal things in order, so I spent most of the day at the bank locked in my office with my phone turned off. I didn’t want anyone to bother me.”

“That couch in your office is really comfortable for a good nap,” Jack said.

Dickie smiled and said, “Yeah, well, I might have taken a nap or two between work.”

Jack and I shared a look. Knowing Dickie as well as we did, there were so many red flags being thrown in our current conversation I didn’t even know where to start.

The first red flag was that Dickie had mentioned marriage without having a stroke. He’d gone through a divorce about a year ago that had made headlines in the tri-state area. It had been a supremely messy and expensive divorce, mostly because Dickie had been having an affair with his secretary, and though his wife had put up with it for years in exchange for her luxurious lifestyle, she’d felt like a line had been crossed when Dickie had been photographed after the White House Christmas party checking into the Willard Hotel with three interns.

She’d taken him to the cleaners in the divorce and been awarded the beach house, a huge settlement, and she’d run off with Dickie’s personal attorney just for good measure. Plus, Dickie’s car had been set on fire, though nobody had been able to pin it on his ex-wife.

The second red flag was Dickie claiming he was catching up on work. Dickie owned the bank, which meant Dickie mostly spent his week playing golf and going to luncheons and dinner parties. I’d never actually known Dickie to work a legitimate day in his life.

“So what’s the big emergency?” he asked, dropping down into one of the conference chairs. “I could use some whiskey.”

Jack went to a hidden panel in one of the bookshelves and slid it open to reveal a small bar. He poured two fingers of whiskey in a glass and passed it to Dickie, and Dickie knocked it back in one swallow.

“As long as you’re passing out drinks,” Doug said.

“Not in a million years, kid,” Jack said. “Oscar will turn you in if you even try it.”

Oscar barked softly and padded over to sit in front of the bar while Jack closed the door so it was hidden again.

“Traitor,” Doug said to Oscar, and Oscar barked back at him, but didn’t budge.

“So,” Jack said. “How was the wedding last night?”

Dickie’s eyes narrowed as he studied Jack. “How do you know about the wedding?”

“I’m a cop,” Jack said. “I know everything.”

Dickie ran his fingers through his expensive haircut, and every hair fell back into place exactly where it had been.

“My life is a mess,” he said. “I don’t know where things went wrong, and I don’t know how to begin to fix it.”

I knew where Dickie’s life had gone wrong, but he probably wasn’t asking a question he wanted real answers to. Maybe if Dickie hadn’t slept his way across the state of Virginia, breaking up his marriage, and then drunk himself into an oblivion every night he’d have a little better handle on his life. But what do I know?

Jack took the seat across from him.

“Well, that’s my cue to go play Elden Ring ,” Doug said. “Margot is working through your lists. I’ll let you know when she’s finished. Come on, Oscar.”

Oscar trotted after Doug as they left the office and headed to the second floor where Doug’s room was located.

“Who’s Margot?” Dickie asked.

“Doug’s lady robot,” Jack said. “And no, she’s not available.”

Dickie shrugged. “I’m at the point where I’m starting to think a robot might be easier to manage than a human.”

“Dickie, you know I love you like a brother and would do almost anything for you,” Jack said. “But maybe the problem is you need to learn to manage yourself first.”

“I just don’t get it,” Dickie said, seemingly ignoring Jack’s comment. “I’ve got everything. Money, house, cars, job. I’m good looking and I stay in shape.”

I rolled my eyes. Modesty and humility weren’t Dickie’s strong suits.

“But I finally fall in love with a woman, and she makes me think that marriage is worth another shot, even after the disaster of my last marriage. And then she goes off and marries someone else, and I’m left feeling like a fool. Who does that? How did I not see it coming? How do women learn to deceive at such a young age?”

I sat up on the couch slowly, my Spidey-senses tingling.

“Are you talking about Chloe Vasilios?” Jack asked.

“Matthews,” Dickie said. “Chloe Matthews. But sure, you can call her Chloe Vasilios and rub salt in the wound a little deeper. Can I have another drink?”

“No,” Jack said. “You’d already been drinking when you came here. I didn’t realize it until I gave you the last one. I’ll make you some coffee though.”

“You don’t have to be such a cop all the time,” Dickie said, and Jack just stared at him. “Yeah, coffee, whatever.” Dickie looked like a pouty little boy with his arms crossed over his chest.

Jack kept a Keurig and pods in the office because we often had several people crowding the room when we were working a case and it was easier than running back and forth to the kitchen.

“So you were in love with Chloe Matthews, and getting an invitation to her wedding didn’t give you the clue that she was going to go ahead and marry the other person listed on the invitation?” Jack asked.

“We were together long before that backstabbing Greek god came along,” Dickie said.

“How much longer?” Jack asked. “The girl is barely nineteen.”

“Age is just a number,” Dickie said, frowning into the coffee Jack handed him. “This is shit coffee.” But he took a sip anyway.

“Start at the beginning,” Jack said.

“Why?” Dickie asked. “What does it matter? She married someone else and I’ll never see her again. Time to move on to the next. Maybe I should go to Sweden. There are a lot of beautiful women there.”

“You’ve not watched the news today?” I asked.

“Hell no,” he said. “I don’t watch that junk. After the wedding last night I turned off my phone, got in my car and started driving. Five and a half hours later I was in Manhattan. I visited the bar at the Plaza and struck up a conversation with an attractive woman who invited me back to her place. Like an idiot, I declined. Then I turned around and drove back. Got to the bank about seven this morning and crashed in my office. Then I woke up and I helped myself to the liquor cabinet so I could feel sorry for myself in peace. It didn’t work.”

“What time did you leave the wedding?” Jack asked.

“What is this? An interrogation?” Dickie asked, half grinning as he laid his head back on the chair.

“Kind of,” Jack said. “Dickie, Chloe is dead.”