They went up the front steps. Mason punched the doorbell. There was no immediate response. He knocked a few times.
Joe growled softly and fixed his gaze on the door.
“What’s wrong with him?” Lucy whispered.
Mason glanced down at Joe. “Damned if I know.”
Rapid footsteps sounded inside the house. A man, Mason thought, heading toward the back of the house.
“Looks like we did indeed interrupt the CEO in the middle of a briefing,” he said.
He loped back down the steps, taking Joe with him. Lucy followed, running to keep up.
They rounded the corner of the villa. Mason paused briefly to open a gate. The rear door of the house slammed open just as the three of them rushed into a small, elegantly landscaped garden.
Cecil Dillon stumbled out onto the back porch. When he saw Lucy, Mason and Joe, he stopped short. He stared at them, stricken.
“You don’t understand,” he said. “I didn’t do it. It’s a setup.”
“Joe.” Mason unfastened the leash and gestured toward Cecil. “Guard.”
Joe paced forward and took up a position in front of Cecil. Cecil stared at him, horrified and furious.
“Call off the damn dog,” he said.
“You’re safe as long as you stand still,” Mason said. “Are you carrying?”
“No gun, I swear it. The one inside isn’t mine.”
“Hands behind your back.”
Cecil obeyed. Mason took out the plastic cuffs that he carried in his back pocket. He snapped them around Cecil’s wrists and then performed a quick pat-down.
“Sit on the ground,” he ordered.
Cecil got down on the ground. Joe’s attention never wavered. Mason looked at Lucy.
“Call nine-one-one and come with me,” he said to Lucy. “Stay within eyesight. I don’t want you out here with him. If Dillon moves, Joe will handle him.”
“Understood,” Lucy said. She took her phone out of her tote.
Mason realized that she appeared strangely fascinated by the transformation that had come over Joe.
“Retired war dog,” Mason said.
“I see.” Lucy keyed in 911.
“You’ve got to listen to me,” Cecil said. “It wasn’t me. The bastard set me up.”
“Who is inside the house?” Mason asked.
“Ashley Colfax,” Cecil said. “He must have followed her here and shot her. I just got home a few minutes ago and found her in the living room. The gun is still in there. I didn’t touch it. He set me up, I tell you.”
“Who set you up?” Mason asked.
“Warner Colfax. He obviously discovered that Ashley and I were sleeping together. The stupid bitch probably let it slip.”
Mason went into the villa. Lucy followed.
It didn’t take long to find Ashley. She was sprawled, facedown, on the floor of the front room. Blood was still seeping steadily from the wound in her back.
Mason turned her over gently. The exit wound was a lot messier. He yanked off his shirt and pressed it tightly over the injury.
“She’s still alive,” he said. “Tell the operator that we need an ambulance.”
44
The police are talking to Warner Colfax,” Mason said. “He admits the gun is his, but he swears he did not shoot Ashley.”
“What about Ashley?” Lucy asked.
“She made it through surgery okay. Lost a lot of blood, but the doctor says she will probably survive. According to Whitaker, she doesn’t know who shot her. The bullet caught her from behind. She never saw the shooter. She believes that it was Warner Colfax. But Whitaker says they are also looking hard at Cecil Dillon.”
“Everyone knows that when a woman gets killed the police always put the husband or the significant other at the top of the suspect list,” Lucy said.
Mason and Deke looked at her.
“I watch a lot of police procedural shows,” she explained.
“Well, in this case Whitaker has both a husband and a significant other on the suspect list,” Deke said.
They were gathered once again on the front porch of Deke’s cabin. Lucy and Mason were on the swing. Deke leaned against the railing. Joe was sprawled at the top of the steps, off duty once again.
“For what it’s worth,” Lucy said, “I’m inclined to believe Cecil.”
Mason and Deke looked at her again, this time as if she had said something remarkably dumb.
“Because he said he didn’t do it?” Mason asked. “Here’s a little inside tip: Suspects in a murder always claim to be innocent.”
“I know that,” she said. “But think about it. He has an excellent reason to keep Ashley alive, at least until the merger is finalized. Also, I think he’s way too smart to kill her inside his own house.”
“A lovers’ quarrel?” Deke suggested.
“I don’t think Cecil Dillon is the kind of man who would let his emotions get in the way of closing a billion-dollar merger deal,” Lucy said.
“I’m inclined to agree with you,” Mason said. “I don’t see him as the careless type, either. Shooting your mistress in the house you happen to be living in at the time is beyond careless. It’s flat-out dumb. Unless . . .”
“Unless what?” Lucy asked.
“Unless you wanted to make it look like a setup that will ultimately point the finger at Warner Colfax,” Mason said.
His phone rang. He unclipped it, glanced at the screen and took the call.
“Fletcher.”
There was a short silence while Mason listened to the speaker on the other end of the connection.
“Thanks, Chief,” he said. “I appreciate being kept in the loop. Yes, it does change a lot of assumptions.”
Mason ended the call and looked at Lucy and Deke. “That was Chief Whitaker. He got the results of the autopsy on Nolan Kelly.”
“Good heavens,” Lucy said. “With so much going on, I forgot about Nolan. Was there anything that we didn’t already know?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact,” Mason said. “Turns out Kelly was shot before the fire was ignited.”
“My goodness,” Lucy said. She tried to process the news. “That changes everything, doesn’t it?”
“Certainly puts a new light on the situation,” Mason said.
“What in the world is going on here?” Lucy asked.
“I don’t know, but I keep coming back to the drug connection. It makes me think that at least part of the puzzle has its roots in the past.”