Crashing Waves Page 2

  “Me too.” Brace smiled. “Do you have anything besides rum and Coke?”

  Fifteen minutes later, drinks in hand, Marcus had finished reading the file.

  He sat silently for a several minutes, downed the last swallow in his glass, and put the glass down.

  “I didn’t realize the man was so . . .”

  “I think the word you are looking for is nuts .”

  “Breaking and entering, armed robbery, and carrying a concealed weapon.

  He was just fucking sixteen when those charges were added.” Marcus sat looking at the paperwork spread out on his desk in amazement.

  “What about the two rape cases? He was seventeen then. Both cases were dismissed too.”

  “Brace, I’ve got to tell you, I didn’t expect this,” Marcus waved his hand over the pile of papers.

  “Didn’t you say this guy was the Chief of Police in Beaufort? How the hell did Moses Lee get elected?”

  Both men turned at the sound of a gasp to see Daisy standing in the doorway. She looked frightened, like she’d seen a ghost.

  “I—” she stumbled over her words. “I was just—” She looked away from Marcus and Brace. Regaining her composure, she said, “I was going to go get a sandwich from the shop around the corner. Do either of you want anything?”

  Both men said no thanks, but Marcus added, “Daisy, you all right?”

  Without hesitation she answered as she walked away, “Sure boss, everything’s fine.”

  Marcus didn’t know how much she had overheard of the conversation with Brace, but something had upset her. He’d never seen Daisy look so shaken.

  Brace interrupted his thoughts.

  “There’s more. I couldn’t understand how someone with a record like that could have possibly gotten into the police academy and got elected as chief, so I did a little digging.” Brace lowered his voice as he leaned across the desk toward Marcus.

  “And.”

  “And besides having his juvenile records sealed, someone paid a lot of money to get him into the academy. His entire schooling was paid in full in cash. I’d say Moses doesn’t even know that because he was awarded some made-up scholarship that has never been given before or since.”

  “What the hell?” Marcus said, following Brace down the hall to the front door.

  “There’s one more thing.” Brace placed his hand on the doorknob.

  “When Moses ran for chief the first time, there was an anonymous donation that paid entirely for his campaign. Someone paid a lot of money to get him into the academy and elected.”

  “There’s no way you can find out who?” Marcus asked.

  “I tried but came up with zero.”

  Marcus wrapped an arm around Brace and hugged him.

  “Thanks for everything. I owe you for this one.” He smiled as he shook Brace’s hand.

  “You sure as hell do, and you can start by putting in a good word for me with Daisy. That is one fine woman.” Brace laughed and waved as he headed up the street to his car.

  Marcus smiled to himself and chuckled when he thought about what Brace had probably done to get the information from that file, though he was sure glad he had gotten it. Someone had paid a lot of money to get Moses Lee where he was today. Who would do that and why?

  The phone on his desk rang again. He didn’t have to look at the caller ID to know that it would say Warfield Hotel. He’d had Daisy dodging the calls all day.

  He couldn’t keep ignoring the phone. It had been a couple of months since he’d last spoken to his best friend, Peter Warfield. Marcus knew it was Peter and not his brother. It wasn’t his fault things had not gone the way Marcus had always dreamed they would. Just because Justin Warfield didn’t want anything to do with him, he shouldn’t be avoiding Peter. The phone rang again. Marcus answered it.

  “Hello, Drummond Investigations.”

  “Damn it, Marcus! What took you so fucking long to answer my call?”

  “Did you forget how to say hello?”

  “Hello. I need your help.” Peter sounded stressed and worried.

  “What’s wrong, Peter?”

  “Someone is trying to destroy the Warfield.” The tension in Peter’s words echoed through the phone line.

  “Okay. How about you start at the beginning.” Marcus easily slipped into detective mode and dragged a pad of paper and a pen closer to him. “We’ll figure this out.”

  “That’s what Justin said, but I just don’t know.”

  Marcus flinched at the mention of Justin’s name, though Peter wouldn’t have known that. He wasn’t surprised it still hurt, though he denied his feelings about Justin most of the time. He’d hoped he was finally getting over the man. But the ache he felt at hearing his name made it clear . . . he wasn’t over him . . . not by a long shot. Peter called his name, drawing his attention back to the conversation.

  “Well?”

  “Well, what?”

  “When can you be here?” Peter’s question hung in the air between the two men.

  “Peter, I’m not sure that’s such a good idea. What did Justin say, when you told him you were calling me?” It was a fair question, and one Marcus needed an answer too.

  Peter was quiet for too long on the line. His silence let Marcus know he hadn’t told Justin he was calling him. This was not a good idea .

  “You didn’t tell him?”

  Marcus’s heart dropped to the bottom of his stomach. Maybe the man just plain didn’t want him there and Peter was going against his wishes. He hated to disappoint Peter, but he couldn’t face Justin if he still didn’t want him around.

  “Peter . . . I . . . can’t—”

  “Wait.” Peter stopped him before he could finish the sentence.

  “It’s not what you think. He didn’t say he didn’t want you here. I didn’t tell him because I just couldn’t stand the thought of seeing that hurt look in his eyes again.”

  Hurt? Why would Justin be hurt?

  “I wouldn’t have called you if I didn’t think we needed your expertise. This is the second attempt at trying to shut the hotel down, and that ass Moses Lee isn’t doing a damned thing to figure out who’s doing this.”

  “What are you talking about?” Marcus asked then took notes as Peter gave him details.

  Half an hour later, Marcus hung up the phone, stunned to realize he’d promised Peter that he’d be there late tonight. Shit! He wasn’t ready to face Justin Warfield again so soon after making a fool out of himself over the man.

  There was a soft cough and Marcus looked up to see Daisy staring at him.

  “I called out to you, but you didn’t answer. Everything okay?” She had a look of concern on her face.

  “I’m going out of town. I don’t know when I’ll be back, but you can reach me on the cell, and I won’t be too far away.” Marcus stood and gathered up Moses’s file to put away. He noticed that Daisy watched as he dropped the file in the bottom drawer of his desk.

  “You don’t want me to put that in the case files?” she asked.

  “No. It will be fine there for now. I’ll pick it up once I’ve packed.” She shrugged as he spoke.

  “Where are you going, in case anyone should ask? What should I tell Mr.

  Goody, if he calls?”

  Walking into the hall, he turned to go upstairs to his apartment.

  “I’m going to see a friend who is having some trouble at his hotel. The Warfield Hotel in Beaufort, South Carolina. It’s a couple hours drive from here. Tell Mr. Goody I’ll give him a call when I return and my contacts at Atlanta PD have my cell if they need me.”

  Daisy stumbled and nearly fell. Marcus grabbed her and held her steady.

  She was looking pale and shaky again.

  “I’m okay,” she said as she brushed his hands away. “You shouldn’t be going there, not tonight anyway.”

  “Why is that?”

  “All the news stations are going on about some storm that’s going to hit land tonight. It won’t be safe
to drive in that direction.”

  “I didn’t know that. Well, I’d better go get packed and be on my way. You can go ahead and lock up and leave as well,” Marcus didn’t want her worrying about him. “I’ll be fine, and I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  Though Daisy still looked concerned, she smiled as she turned to go back to her office.

  The four-hour drive from Atlanta to Beaufort was going to give him nothing but time to think about what facing Justin again would be like. It was going to be a long fucking night.

  3

  ––––––––

  “Y OU CALLED WHO? ” Justin couldn’t believe what he was hearing or that Peter would do something so stupid.

  “Why? Why the hell would you do that behind my back?”

  They had just finished posting signs at all the entrances to the small bar, explaining it would be closed for the evening. It was nearing eight o’clock and the dinner crowd would be wandering into this area soon for an evening nightcap or two, but the carpet was still wet after being cleaned so they had no choice but to close the bar. Four large fans blew across the floor making an awful racket. Justin was yelling over the droning sound. He knew anyone walking along the halls that led to the bar could hear what he was saying.

  But damn it, he didn’t know if he could keep his shit together enough to face Marcus again so soon.

  Peter yanked on his arm and nodded toward their office. They walked silently down the hall until they stepped inside the office and closed the door behind them. Peter took a deep breath and faced Justin with squared shoulders and a determined look on his face.

  “I’m sorry. Under the circumstances, maybe I should have discussed it with you first, but I think we need Marcus’s help. Moses Lee couldn’t really do anything about the other incidents. Washing machines going bust, even eight of them at one time, and refrigerators left open over night causing everything in them to spoil could have been just accidents. But those words painted on the mirror are a threat that shouldn’t be ignored. Lee might take more interest now, but Marcus would be working directly for us.” Peter walked over to his desk and sat on the corner of it.

  “You made me manager while you were gone. I know you are back now, but I made a management decision. Get over it. The hotel is more important than any differences, whatever the hell they are, between you and Marcus.”

  “I agree the hotel is the most important thing, but we could have used Kirk Dolan or one of his partners if we needed a private investigator. They are right here in Beaufort.”

  From the flask on the opposite corner of the desk, Peter poured two glasses of whiskey. He handed Justin one of the tumblers before he threw back his own drink in one toss. Justin sipped at his and stared at the man sitting on the desk.

  “I wanted someone I knew and trusted.”

  He was in awe of the man Peter had become over the summer. He’d stepped up when Justin couldn’t be in charge anymore. He’d taken over and the Warfield had done just fine up until these recent events. Bookings had picked up, and they had two special events coming to the hotel as well.

  Justin could see Peter was taking it personally that someone was messing

  with his hotel. Their hotel. Justin smiled as he finished his drink and placed the tumbler back on the tray beside Peter.

  “What?” Peter asked.

  “Nothing,” Justin refilled his glass then leaned against the desk next to his brother. “So you think the damage to the laundry room was no accident?”

  Peter’s dark brows arched over his eyes, clearly questioning Justin’s sanity.

  Justin chuckled at the look he was receiving.

  “Okay, so I’ll admit all the washers going out at the same time in the laundry room was a surprise, but it is possible. We’ve always purchased them all at the same time, and they do get a lot of use. It still could have been an accident.” Justin brought his glass up to his lips and waited for Peter’s reaction.

  “Bullshit! Justin, come on. How can you say that now? And what about the crap with the refrigerators being left open over night? We had to throw everything out because we couldn’t be sure what, if any of it was spoiled. All right, I’ll admit, at the time, I thought it could have been an accident.

  Anybody can forget to do something but now . . . these aren’t accidents, Justin. Not now. Not after that damned message on the mirror over the bar,”

  Peter flung his hands in the air and stood from the desk. He began pacing the room.

  “Which is why I called Marcus. I know it might be a little uncomfortable for you, and I’m sorry about that. But he’s good at what he does, and he would be working for us. Chief Lee doesn’t do anything that doesn’t profit him in some way, and we both know it. Marcus was the best choice.” Peter cuffed Justin’s shoulder and squeezed. The look in his eyes was begging his brother to support him in his decision. How could Justin say no?

  “All right, we’ll go with your decision. When will he be here?”

  Justin still wasn’t comfortable facing Marcus again, but maybe it was better to get it over with. He’d known he’d have to face the man again eventually.

  He was Peter’s best friend and a part of his brother’s life. There was no getting around that.

  “He said he’d probably make it sometime before midnight. Can you get him a room set up with Jay while I make a few more calls? It’s late, but the Washington wedding party will be here in a week, and the bride and her mother have changed their minds, again, about the main course for the wedding dinner.”

  Justin smiled, nodded his head in agreement, and retrieved some order forms off his desk, while his brother picked up the phone. Heading out the door to the lobby, Justin could hear Peter calmly explain over the phone to Mrs. Washington, the bride’s mother, that yes, steak and lobster would make a lovely dinner choice. However, there would be an extra charge for the lobster to be flown in from Maine for the occasion. Last week, they had

  decided on braised pork loin. The week before it was rack of lamb. Thank goodness it was a small wedding party and Peter was the one dealing with it.

  At the front desk, Justin waited until Jay finished with a phone reservation and then told the young man to reserve his old suite on the top floor for Marcus. Peter had seen to the remodel after the fire. Justin couldn’t go back to living there on a permanent basis following Caroline’s destruction of the suite. Moving back to the Manor had been a direct result of the emotional devastation of last summer.

  On his way out, Justin stopped by the closed bar one more time to check on the carpet. He smiled when he saw Robert unpacking cases that the liquor store had delivered a short time ago. He was carefully checking the paperwork as he placed the new bottles on the shelves.

  “Got everything we need to re-open tomorrow?” Justin’s voice startled Robert, and he jumped slightly. He turned to face Justin, and a smile grew wide across his attractive face.

  “Hi,” he said, setting the checklist aside and walked to where Justin stood in the doorway.

  Justin leaned against the doorframe and smiled back as Robert approached.

  He was a big man, with a wild, raw look about him. Nothing could have been further from the truth. Justin had known him long enough to know that behind the muscle and large frame lurked the heart of a caring man. He’d been a good employee over the years, but recently he’d become a trusted friend. Asking Robert to dinner had taken Justin out of his comfort zone, but it wasn’t the man who had caused his nervousness. He felt good when he was around Robert . . . safe.

  “On your way home?” Robert asked.

  He nodded his head in answer to Robert’s question then spoke, “Tomorrow will be hectic getting the bar set back in place and bringing all the tables and chairs back in.”

  Peter had feared there would be water damage under the bar, and he was right. The broken bottles of liquor had seeped under the bar itself, and they’d had to move it to dry everything under it as well. Luckily, it was just superficial damage and al
l the wood had stayed dry. It had taken six men and two flat-bed dollies to move the damned thing.

  “Hopefully it will go back easier than it came out,” Robert chuckled.

  “I don’t know. Peter’s colorful array of words was sort of amusing,” Justin answered with his own laughter.

  Robert laughed out loud then, “Yeah, he did seem a little surprised at the weight he had to lift.”

  Silence fell between them as they stared at each other. Justin wasn’t uncomfortable, but he was unsure of what to say next. He decided to stay with light and easy.

  “Don’t work too late. The storm they’ve been predicting is going to hit land sometime tonight,” Justin said pushing off the wall. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Good night, Justin. See you tomorrow,” Robert answered and returned to his work.

  The drive to Warfield Manor was a short one, and nearly every minute of it Justin’s thoughts were on the meeting with Marcus tomorrow. Seeing him again so soon was not what he had planned, but Peter was right. If anyone could figure out what was going on at the hotel, it was Marcus Drummond.

  One of Justin’s friends, Damien Fitzgerald was a reporter for the Atlanta Herald. Two weeks ago, before Damien had left the country on a new assignment, he’d sent Justin articles he’d written on cases that the Atlanta PD had been working on. Marcus had played heavily in solving both cases.

  He was making a name for himself in Atlanta.

  Though he had no right to, Justin wondered if Marcus was building a new private life as well. Had he moved on? Forgetting the crush he’d carried for Justin for so many years? Justin’s sigh was loud in the closed confines of the car. He knew he wasn’t the man Marcus had dreamed he was.

  The house was dark when he pulled into the front yard. Winnie and Michaels would have long gone to bed in their cottage behind the main house. Parking the car, Justin locked it before ascending the front steps, although it was more out of habit than necessity.

  Warfield Manor sat at the end of a mile-long drive on over twenty acres of wooded land. There were no neighbors for miles in any direction. Justin observed the grounds from the top of the porch. He’d rehired Joe Thompson after Caroline’s death, and things were beginning to take shape again.