come to the kitchen, drawn to the commotion, no doubt.
“Why did you do it?” Jim demanded of his partner.
Before I could step in, Jim Rand lashed out, slapping his partner hard across the face. Kenny Darnell reeled from the blow. Then he stood tall, spit blood, and sneered. “Screw you, Rand.”
“Now, now,” David fretted, wringing his hands.
Thomas Gurt continued to grip the cuffed prisoner by the arms, his face remained impassive.
Jim saw my shocked expression. For a flashing moment, he looked sheepish. “He won’t talk.”
I stepped forward, until my eyes caught Kenny Darnell’s. He was a good-looking man with dark, curly hair, a squarish face, and an even tan. His defiant blue gaze met mine.
“Jim,” I said, holding Darnell’s gaze, “you don’t have to make him talk. I’ve already figured out what’s going on and I’m going to tell Detective O’Rourke everything.”
“You don’t know shit, bitch,” Kenny replied.
Jim stepped up and raised his hand again. I put myself between them.
“Oh, god,” David moaned, stroking his temples.
“Listen to me, Kenny. I know you lied and told Jim that your mother was sick in Queens. It gave you an alibi for being far away from the Hamptons when the shootings occurred. You knew your mother would lie for you. You also needed someone to frame for the murder.” I turned to face Jim. “Who better to pin it on than you, Jim Rand, his own partner. By using your MO, the wet suit, the flippers, Kenny knew he could implicate you in the crime. He was probably planning on hiding that rifle among your personals. Some friend, huh?”
“Shut your mouth—” Kenny began.
“You shut yours, Darnell,” Jim warned. “Or I swear to god—”
“Two problems arose,” I quickly cut in. “First, Kenny killed the wrong man. Then the storm swept in on the night of the murder and washed away the flipper prints. The cops had no evidence beyond the casings Kenny deliberately left at the scene. Now Kenny had a problem. He still had to kill David and pin it on you, Jim, so for Treat’s murder he had to go to plan B and frame someone else.”
“You mean, this man framed that drug dealer the police arrested?” David asked.
“Yes,” I said and turned to Rand. “Jim, didn’t you tell me that Kenny took photos for the police—traffic accident photos, right?”
“Yeah, that’s right, Clare.”
“So Kenny knows the score out here with the cops,” I said. “He probably has friends among them, so he knew what was going on with the investigation into Treat’s murder. He knew they wanted to solve the crime fast, pin it on a shooter. He also knew from his policemen friends that Treat had drug connections. I’m guessing it was Mr. Darnell himself who tipped the police about the rifle in the drug dealer’s trunk—the guy in Hampton Bays. It was you who tipped them, wasn’t it, Kenny? What did you do, make an anonymous phone call?”
Kenny sneered. “You think you’re so smart.”
I nodded. “Smarter than you, it seems to me, because I never thought Treat’s murder was solved. The police did. They dropped their guard. So did David. Now you could strike again and get the job done right.”
I faced Jim Rand again. “Tonight, Kenny used your MO like last time, only this time, he made sure to do it on a night with no storm. And, as I said, he was probably going to stash tonight’s rifle among your belongings.”
Jim shook his head. “Why, Kenny? We had a good thing going.”
Kenny’s face twisted in disgust. “We had nothing going. This business was my idea from the beginning. I brought you in. But you were always expendable.”
“You were a washout, you prick. In the SEALs and out. You ran up debts with your sports betting, couldn’t get a loan from a bank, or don’t you remember? I was the one who put up the capital for the equipment, the rentals.”
“Yeah, well, this business was my idea,” Kenny said, “and I decided I didn’t want to split my profits anymore.”
“You punk, you ran up sports betting debts again, didn’t you?” Jim said, closing in on his partner. “You were desperate for money. So desperate you had to do something like this.”
Darnell looked away. “I didn’t know how the hell I was going to get rid of you without making you my competitor. So I decided to kill two birds with one stone. Make a little extra money and send you away for a while. So I put an ad in
“Oh, gawd,” David moaned.
Despite David’s distress, I could see this interrogation was actually going pretty well. The only thing I needed to hear now, the only thing we all needed to hear, was Kenny confess who had hired him. I folded my arms, shook my head, and began to pace.
“Kenny, the only thing I can’t figure out,” I said, “is why your first attempt was during a big party. You could have killed David on the beach, on the street, anywhere—”
“Oh, gawd,” David moaned again.
Kenny smirked at me. “So you’re not so smart.”
“I don’t know, Kenny. Doing your hit at a big party like that. All that room for error. The chance of getting caught?” I turned to Jim. “Maybe your partner washed out of the SEALs for a reason. Maybe he’s just stupid.”
“Shows what you know, bitch,” Kenny spat. “It’s what my client wanted.”
“So Bom Felloes was the stupid one?”
“Yeah, it was his idea to shoot David at his own party. He wanted to kill two birds with one stone too. David would be dead. And the public shooting would start rumors, ruin David’s businesses by making it look like someone from organized crime wanted him dead. Like he was mobbed up.”
“OOOOOOH!”
Alberta rushed to David’s side, to comfort him. It was obvious the reality check was just too much for the man.
“Too bad you failed to kill the right guy,” said Jim. “You had to come back and try again. Guess you weren’t up to the mission, after all, eh, partner?”
“Go to hell, Rand. I would have done the job just fine. If it wasn’t for you, this asshole would be dead now.”
Jim snorted. “You give me undo credit, pal. It wasn’t me who nailed you.” His eyes found mine. “It was Clare.”
I sighed, relieved beyond belief we’d gotten a confession without more bloodshed. Hadn’t David Mintzer been through enough without having to endure more crimson stains on his beautiful floors?
Unfortunately, the interrogation wasn’t quite over yet.
I turned to Graydon and Joy, who’d been watching everything in wide-eyed silence. I didn’t take pleasure in involving my daughter in all of this; but, as it turned out, she had already involved herself.
I stepped up to Graydon Faas, looked him in the eye, and asked, “Why were you talking to Bom Felloes this afternoon, Graydon? And why were you visiting his home tonight?”
Graydon appeared defiant for a moment, until he saw the way my daughter Joy was watching him with a mixture of horror and disgust. Suddenly his chest sank.
“I needed money,” he said.
“But your family is wealthy.”
“Richer than you know,” Graydon said. “But they disowned me several years ago, when I dropped out of college to be a surf instructor. They said they didn’t like my lifestyle choices, so I told them to shove their money.”
“How did you hook up with Felloes?”
“I met Bom at a club. He already knew I was waiting tables for extra cash at Cuppa J. He set me up with some good coke and a stack of Benjamins for doing him one little favor on July Fourth. I slipped David Mintzer something that would give him a migraine. Payback for losing the restaurant—that’s what Bom told me. I had no idea anyone was going to get shot. After it happened, Bom told me it was just a weird coincidence that someone wanted to murder Treat. He called me every so often for more information on David…I was so worried about Bom blackmailing me, getting me into trouble, I just gave him what he asked for. When he called today, I thought he
