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  Phil snorted. “I take it Andy’s a flirter.”

  Sean sunk into a plastic patio chair. “Apparently,” he said dryly.

  * * * *

  The day went pretty well, all things considered. Moira calmed down and acted normal, the food was great, and playing with the kids proved fun.

  Sean supposed he should really spend more time with his sister and her family since they were the only family here in California.

  He hadn’t been to Colorado to visit his parents in a couple of years, though there’d already been hints from his mother that he should come for Christmas. The thing was, Sean didn’t have a normal job. Murders still happened during the holidays, and anyway, everyone wanted that time off, so who knew what his hours would be like. He’d honestly thought it would be a better idea for them to come to Haydon Cliff for the holiday season. Then they could see Moira, Phil, and the kids, too.

  Sure his other siblings would miss out for the year, but Sean figured they had their folks all year round.

  Tom Callahan was actually Sean’s stepfather, though he was the only father most of the Callahan children had known. Or known well, anyway. They’d all taken on his last name when he’d officially adopted them.

  His mother, Patricia, had lost her first husband to cancer, when Sean himself was only four, and Moira, three, and their older brother, Ryan, who had been five. The loss had been devastating to Patricia, but eventually she’d met Tom and they’d fallen in love. They got married, Tom adopted Patricia’s children, then they’d had three more children. Yep, the Callahans were a big family.

  So yes, if Mom and Dad came to Haydon Cliff, the rest would be left out. But Sean still thought it was a good idea and he intended to get Moira involved to convince them. Plus, he’d really like them to meet Andy. Which, okay, maybe he was getting ahead of himself. But Sean hoped he wasn’t.

  They ended up staying at Moira’s until almost nine. And though Sean had been hoping to stay over at Andy’s place again, his partner dissuaded him of that notion as Sean pulled his car in front of the house.

  “I’d really love to have you stay over, but I have a super early day tomorrow,” Andy said, all apologetic. “One Sunday a month, some old buddies of mine from my school days get together for an all-day hike. We’re going to Miller’s Pike tomorrow and one of my friends is picking me up at five.”

  Sean blinked at him. “In the morning?”

  Andy laughed. “Yeah. It takes a while to get there and we usually grab a light breakfast. It’s really a thing. I mean hiking, meals, the whole thing. Probably won’t get home until tomorrow night.” He paused and grinned sheepishly. “Sorry. Really.”

  He shrugged. “No big deal. You’ve been doing this a lot longer than seeing me like this. It’s completely cool. I’ve got laundry and stuff to do anyway. I won’t be bored.”

  Much. He totally would be, but yeah, it was what it was.

  Andy gave him a super quick kiss, then got out. Sean waited for him to make it inside his house before driving back to his stupid, lonely apartment.

  Chapter 8

  “Uh, sorry about the hike. And your entire day.” Sean rubbed the back of his neck and stood aside to let Andy enter the house.

  Andy nodded, feeling grimmer and angrier than he had in a long time. “Where is she?”

  “This way.”

  Annabelle Morely was their third victim. And if Andy had anything to say about it, she would be the last this asshole ever killed.

  He’d just been getting ready to go on the Miller’s Peak hike when he got the call from Rivers. As soon as he saw the captain’s name pop up on his cell phone, Andy knew it couldn’t be good.

  Now, he looked at the elderly lady lying dead in her living room, wearing her housecoat. From Andy’s limited knowledge it appeared she had been dead for several days. Rigor mortis had definitely set in and the smell was ghastly.

  “Is this the Annabelle from bingo?” he asked Sean. “The one the others mentioned who hadn’t shown up the night we interviewed them?”

  “Not certain, but I’m presuming so. They all said she hadn’t been there the week before.” Sean sighed. “I don’t know, Andy. She’s been dead all this time? That’s awful. We should have checked on her.”

  “Didn’t they say her daughter usually dropped her off? Where’s she?”

  “Um. Detectives?”

  They turned as one when the crime scene investigator cleared his throat from near the foot of the staircase.

  “There’s another victim.”

  Andy’s stomach sank. “Where?”

  “Upstairs bedroom. I’m no coroner, but I’d say she was strangled like this one, and probably the same day.”

  Sean bit his lip. “The daughter?”

  Andy swallowed. “Let’s go see.”

  The entire way up the stairs, Andy felt like his stomach contained a lead ball of dread. The crime scene tech led the way, turning right at the top. The same sickening smell greeted them. They entered the last room at the end of the hall.

  A woman, younger than Annabelle, but older than either Sean or Andy, lay face down on the carpet in the room. Two socks tied together were still around her neck.

  Andy spotted a framed photo on a nearby dresser, a photo of two women with their arms around each other. Annabelle, a woman in her late seventies to early eighties, was one of them, and the other woman, likely the one on the floor, appeared to be somewhere in her fifties.

  Mother and daughter were the third and fourth victim of this sick fuck.

  * * * *

  “All right, what’s your plan to get this son of a bitch?” Captain Rivers demanded of them later that same day.

  “I can’t shake the feeling that this is somehow related to the Wednesday night bingo crowd,” Sean spoke up.

  “No one really remembered Maria Castro from Wednesdays.”

  “Not entirely true. A few thought maybe she had come a few times, just not regularly,” Sean reminded him.

  “Yeah, but Tony seemed to indicate she’d stayed home. A lot.”

  Rivers frowned. “Ever ask Castro about Maria attending bingo?”

  “Not specifically, no,” Andy admitted. “He didn’t mention it, but it also wasn’t relevant at the time.”

  “Looks like you two have some work to do.”

  * * * *

  They went to see Annabelle’s next door neighbor first. It was she who had called in the welfare check when she hadn’t seen any signs of activity.

  She introduced herself as Mrs. Warner and advise them that she’d been widowed about ten years. She offered them coffee, which they’d both accepted. Turned out to be instant, but beggars can’t be choosers, Andy supposed.

  “How long had Annabelle’s daughter lived with her?” Sean asked.

  Mrs. Warner gave them a look. “Daughter? Marlene wasn’t her daughter.”

  “Where is her daughter, then?”

  “She didn’t have a daughter. Or any kids, that I know of, anyway.”

  Andy frowned. “But the people at bingo said her daughter would drop her off.”

  She snorted. “That was Marlene. Annabelle loved playing bingo, but Marlene had no use for it. As for why the bingo people thought Marlene was her daughter, I couldn’t say. Maybe Annabelle told them that. To stop the questions or something. Or they just assumed. There was an age difference.”

  “Wait. So Marlene was her significant other, not her daughter?”

  She smirked at Sean. “Yes, dear. They met a few years back at a charity event and have been together ever since.” But all amusement suddenly faded. “It’s terrible what happened to them. Was it because they were—”

  “I don’t think so,” Andy said. “We can’t rule out any scenario, but it doesn’t look like that. Not at all.”

  Mrs. Warner sighed and leaned back in her chair. “I’ve heard about the other murders. I suppose they’re somehow related, but I never would have imagined Annabelle and Marlene would be murdered.”

&nb
sp; Nobody ever does, Andy guessed.

  “Did you know either Maria Castro or Rose O’Hearn?” Sean asked.

  “Heaven’s no. Why would I? Terrible.”

  “Heard anything unusual or see any strangers lurking around the neighborhood?”

  “No. None of that. But of course, there must have been. Perhaps the killer came from some place troublesome like Los Angeles.”

  “Murderers can be from anywhere, Mrs. Warner,” Sean said brusquely.

  “Yes.” She sighed. “Terrible,” she repeated.

  And yes, Andy thought, it was.

  * * * *

  When they went to Tony’s apartment, no one answered their knock. No answer to their phone calls either.

  According to the ME, Annabelle Morely and Marlene Atkinson had likely been dead for about ten days. Like Castro and O’Hearn, they’d been strangled by socks. This time, though, there was some DNA beneath the fingernails of Marlene. She had quite clearly fought back. The killer, perhaps, had miscalculated killing someone a bit younger than the others, and able to fight.

  They tried calling Tony again, got his voice mail, and left a message.

  Sean went home with Andy, and after a quick bite, and some television, they went to bed.

  * * * *

  In the morning, they got a return call from Tony. “Sorry, I’m out of town at the moment,” he told them.

  “Where?” Andy asked.

  “Down south. Trying to find some work. Not much success in Haydon Cliff, and I don’t really want to stay there when all this is over anyway.” Tony paused. “You have news?”

  “Some. There’s been another couple of murders.”

  “Shit. More victims? Old ladies?”

  “One is, one isn’t quite as old.”

  “Damn.”

  “Listen, there might be another connection between them all. I wanted to ask you something.”

  “Sure, go ahead.”

  “Your mom play bingo?”

  There was a long pause. “I don’t know. Why?”

  “Just…some of the others. I wondered about Maria.”

  “She may have. I didn’t see her every day or anything. She didn’t drive, but there are those old people shuttles. She might have taken one of those. She did for medical appointments most of the time. She never mentioned it to me, though.”

  Andy had looked into those shuttles, and sure enough, they did have records of transporting Maria Castro to some medical appointments and to get groceries. And while they had no record of dropping her off at the Elks Lodge, it was impossible that she would have gotten a ride home from them anyway since bingo didn’t let out until after ten at night, and their services stopped at seven.

  “Okay, thanks.” Andy paused. “How about you, Tony?”

  “Me, what?”

  “Ever play bingo on Wednesdays at the Elks Lodge?”

  Tony laughed. “That’s not really my scene.”

  “When do you return to Haydon Cliff, Tony?”

  “Not really sure. Depends on the job search. But I’ll keep in touch.”

  “Where are you again?”

  “Orange County. Newport Beach.”

  “You staying somewhere? A motel? A friend?”

  “Motel 6 on Pacific.” Another pause. “Why?”

  “Just want to make sure we can get ahold of you if we have to.”

  “You can call my cell for sure.”

  “All right, Tony. Bye.”

  Andy gazed at Sean, who was looking at him questioningly. “What?”

  “I could be wrong,” Andy admitted.

  “About what?”

  Andy blew out a breath and sat heavily in his chair behind his desk. “My cop instincts are screaming right now.”

  Sean sat on the edge of the desk. “Castro?”

  Andy nodded. “I don’t think it’s a coincidence that he’s left Haydon Cliff. I don’t know, Sean. I have a really bad feeling about him.”

  “Did he strike you as a serial killer?”

  “No. But I think he’s turned into one.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Okay,” Andy said. “So listen. Tony Castro needs money. He’s admitted that. And he expected to get Maria’s money when she died.”

  “Right.”

  ‘But I’m thinking, Maria was taking her sweet time dying. Too long for Tony. And then Maria told Tony she was going to do a reverse mortgage on her place. The way those things work, Maria would have gotten the money, but when she died, the bank or loan company would have owned the house. If Tony wanted it, he’d have to pay off that loan or ‘too bad so sad.’”

  Sean stared at him, his expression indicating he was beginning to get it. “If he was going to act, he’d have to do something before Maria got the reverse mortgage.”

  “Exactly. Because he didn’t want only the insurance money, but also the proceeds from selling that house. So, he strangled Maria.”

  “Okay. Okay. I’m with you so far. But the others?”

  “Tony wanted to make it look like Maria was the victim of a serial killer. It had been all over the city about the homeless killings. Everyone was talking about it for months. If only Maria had died, then the first place we’d look would be to her only living relative, her son, Tony. But if other elderly ladies died, then we’d probably think, a serial killer, which we did. And the case would probably go unsolved, because my guess is Tony’s most recent victims, Annabelle and Marlene, were going to be his last victims. Whether by design or a panic because Marlene fought back, I don’t know. I’m guessing Tony didn’t even realize Marlene lived there. She doesn’t fit his pattern of little old ladies who live by themselves. But he thought Annabelle did.”

  “Bingo?”

  “Bingo. We need to go there Wednesday and talk to those players.”

  “If you’re right, we can test that DNA under Marlene’s fingernails and match it to Tony.”

  “If we can get his DNA.”

  Sean looked grim. “We’ll get it.”

  Chapter 9

  Sean hadn’t done a stakeout in more than six months, but he supposed a cop never really forgets how to do one.

  According to the motel manager, Tony Castro was in Unit 12. So Sean sat in a nondescript gray sedan, wearing a baseball cap and sunglasses, waiting for Tony to leave some DNA evidence he could collect.

  It had been a long drive to Newport Beach, but if it could yield them the evidence to arrest this fucker and later convict him, it would be worth it. Imagine killing three other innocent people to cover up the murder of your own mother. Sean normally wasn’t one for the death penalty—he’d had plenty of arguments with his fellow officers over it—but if anyone deserved it, Castro did.

  If he was guilty. Which, if Andy’s instincts were right, he was.

  It was early afternoon before his suspect emerged from Unit 12. He had the motel manager’s permission to enter the unit if he needed to, but that could get dicey in the trial, so he hoped Castro would make it much easier for him.

  Sean wondered if Castro had any idea they were closing in on him. He’d bet that the man did. He had to have known Marlene scratched him somewhere. It hadn’t been on his face, because Sean and Andy had interviewed Castro after he would have killed Annabelle and Marlene.

  He straightened a little when he saw Tony holding a Styrofoam cup.

  Bingo.

  Which definitely seemed to be a theme, Sean acknowledged.

  Now if only Tony would conveniently discard the cup in the motel trash, Sean would be set and on his way back to Haydon Cliff in no time.

  Of course, no, Castro did not cooperate. He got in his car and drove off. With Sean following.

  * * * *

  Andy wrinkled his nose as soon as he opened his door. “You stink.”

  “Uh-huh.” Sean stepped inside.

  “You smell like garbage.”

  “Well. Sure. I’ve been Dumpster diving.” Sean grinned. “But I got it. Dropped it off for testing, too. If luck’s wit
h us, we’ll have what we need to arrest Castro.”

  “Fantastic. But clearly you didn’t shower yet.”

  Sean rolled his eyes. “Clearly. And I’m pretty sure they’re going to have to have that sedan detailed.” He headed through Andy’s house to the bathroom, stripping off his shirt. “You don’t mind, do you? I figured since we’d want to see each other, it would be easier to come straight here and shower.” He hesitated. “Too presumptuous?”

  Andy walked past him into the bathroom and turned on the shower. “Nope.”

  He finished getting out of his clothes, which Andy promptly scooped up to take to the washing machine.

  “I might have to throw away my sneakers.”

  “They smelled anyway.”

  “Hey!” Sean laughed and shook his head, getting into the shower. He immediately soaped up. A few minutes later, he was in the middle of washing his hair, eyes closed, when the door slid open and a nude Andy joined him.

  The minute Andy’s mouth found his, Sean felt tension drain away, and strangely, he felt at home.

  * * * *

  They went to the same bingo table as before, the one where Annabelle had sat, to find Mavis Pillary along with Eugene and Norma Moore.

  When Sean and Andy took seats, the three eyed them, not unkindly or suspiciously like before, but with troubled resignation. Sean figured they had heard about Annabelle.

  It was Norma who spoke first, her eyes a touch watery. “She’s not coming back, is she?”

  “No.”

  “The thing is,” Mavis said, “it can happen any time, you know. The overall crowd here is older. We even have some players close to one hundred. And we lost a player a year ago who reached one hundred six.”

  “Very impressive,” Andy murmured.

  She nodded. “But you expect them to not come back because they moved in with their children across the country or went into one of those old folk homes or die of natural causes. Don’t you?”

  Sean sighed. “You do. Listen, was it Annabelle who told you her daughter dropped her off or did you just assume?”

  “I think she said so,” Norma replied. “Why?”

  “Marlene wasn’t her daughter. She was Annabelle’s girlfriend.”

  “Oh.” Norma exchanged a look with Eugene. “You were right, dear.”