At Rope's End (A Dr. James Verraday Mystery #1)(65)

“I told you about that already.”

“I know you did. You made sure everybody saw you drinking your wine before going back into your room. And you made sure they saw your rental car parked there all night. Right by the main entrance to the hotel. I’m wondering if there was something wrong with that car?”

“Where is this going, Detective?” asked Tarleton.

“Patience, please, Counselor. This won’t take much longer. Mr. Griffin, was there something wrong with that rental car?”

“No.”

“Then why did you rent a second car? One from a place right in town, not from the agency at the airport where you rented the car you parked at the hotel? And since you’re so careful about claiming expenses for the company on your Visa card, why did you pay for the second car with cash? Was it so that there wouldn’t be an electronic paper trail? Because the only way I found out that you rented a second car was by calling every car rental agency in Port Angeles and e-mailing them a photograph of you. Fortunately they had all the records on file, including the in and out mileage on the odometers. The nice young woman on the counter told me that you put a lot of miles on that car for a one-night rental. Two hundred and ninety-four miles to be precise. Exactly the distance from Port Angeles to Issaquah, with a little stopover at Cody’s apartment to plant the evidence after you lured him to that trail and pushed him off the edge. So despite what you wanted people to believe, you were not in your hotel room all night, Mr. Griffin.”

Jason Griffin put his hand on Tarleton’s arm. They whispered to each other, then Tarleton turned to Maclean.

“Would you bring in the district attorney, please?”

*

District Attorney Kirk Weder arrived and before he’d even settled into the seat next to Maclean, looked directly at Tarleton.

“Okay, what’s the offer?”

Tarleton leaned forward. “My client is willing to plead guilty to the murders of Helen Dale, Rachel Friesen, Alana Carmichael, Cody North, Paul Schmidt, as well as five other Jane Does, whose bodies he will locate for you on Suquamish Island, on the condition that you do not seek the death penalty and that you do not charge his mother as an accessory or subpoena her to be a witness.”

Weder leaned in toward Maclean. They exchanged whispers. He turned back toward Tarleton and Jason Griffin, who was now staring at the floor.

“Deal.”





CHAPTER 32


The Bellingham was busy that night, and it was only by calling ahead and saying that it was a special occasion that Verraday was able to reserve the two wingback chairs by the fireplace. Out of sheer curiosity, he had arrived four minutes before the appointed time. But as he looked down the length of the bar, he could see Maclean’s Burberry coat already draped over the back of the chair. How she always arrived first was one mystery that he’d have to wait for another occasion to solve.

Maclean smiled as she saw him approaching. She looked more relaxed than he’d ever seen her before. She was wearing a cowl-neck sweater dress over black leggings, and her hair was down. She was definitely off duty. The same waiter who had served them the other night came by their table as Verraday took his seat.

“The usual, folks?” he asked with that easygoing, confident smile.

Maclean nodded. “Please.”

“Sounds good,” said Verraday, happy to be recognized and treated like a regular on his second visit.

“Coming right up,” said the waiter as he left to get their drinks.

“So?” asked Verraday. “You look like the cat that swallowed the canary. You have stories to tell. And I want to hear them.”

Maclean grinned broadly.

“Well . . . the captain and chief are pretty pleased. I’ll be doing a press conference with them tomorrow morning to announce that Jason Griffin has confessed to the killings. And they’re already talking promotion.”

“Well, they should be. You’re the best homicide detective they’ve got. Congratulations. Did Jason have anything more to say?”

“Yeah. I pumped him for everything he had to make sure that the confession stuck. He was even more devious than I realized. That empty apartment had been empty since the day that Cody arrived in Seattle. Jason kept it as a dummy address so that he could stall if anyone ever tried to interview Cody. The apartment we searched was Cody’s real home. Though all the evidence was planted there only after Jason killed him. He didn’t miss a thing. When Helen Dale pleasured Cody in the cockpit of the plane, it wasn’t just a generous boss handing out employee benefits. He retrieved the semen from the tissue that Helen used to clean up and put it on Rachel Friesen’s panties so that he could implicate Cody if he ever needed a scapegoat. As for Alana Carmichael, Jason had the Cupid’s arrow hidden away just like you said he would. The kill room was the office. Soundproof and quite chic looking, as you are aware. He had a Berkley horse with soft leather restraints hidden in the ceiling. And the radiator repair tubs were where he washed his victims. Then he used the van to dump their bodies afterward. End of story.”

“And thank God it is,” said Verraday. “Well done.”

“You too. Great work, James. You’re a mind reader.”

“You flatter me, Detective. But I’m no mind reader. Just a neurotic, hypervigilant guy who’s found his niche.”