Identity Crisis (Sam McRae Mystery 1)

Rhonda cowered, her eyes gleaming, saliva dribbling from her open mouth.

“Wait!” I yelled. I didn’t trust myself to grab the gun. The slightest movement and it could go off, and Rhonda would probably catch the bullet. “Don’t do it. Maybe you had your reasons for protecting Rhonda. But don’t do this. You’re not a killer.”

Skip stood there a moment, then lowered the gun. “You’re right,” he said. “I can’t. I—”

A brief blast of siren broke the night’s stillness. Police cars, which must have approached silently, were suddenly upon us, blue and red lights flashing.

As the door on one car flew open, Skip abruptly brought the gun up, pointed it in his mouth, and pulled the trigger. I averted my eyes just before the blast, feeling sick to my stomach.

Rhonda wailed, a guttural cry like a wounded animal, and threw herself at the body. A burnt gunpowder smell infused the air. I kept my face turned away, listening to Rhonda sobbing and babbling. I felt wet, a little chilly even. I thought I was breaking out in a sweat, until I realized it was raining.

Someone touched my arm. I jumped.

“Hey, hey.” It was Duvall. He kept his hand on my arm. “Take it easy.”

I released a sigh. “Oh, God.”

“When I got your message, I decided to call in reinforcements,” he said. “I got in touch with my friend in the department, asked him to have everyone come in silently. I didn’t know what we’d find, but I wondered if he might be here.” He inclined his head toward Skip’s body. “He was Rhonda’s half-brother.”

Chapter THIRTY-TWO

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“The bank,” Duvall said. “When you told me about what you found in the office, I got to thinking—what about the cameras? Whoever came in would show up on the bank’s cameras.

“It took a while to pinpoint exactly when it happened and who handled the transaction, so we could narrow down which tapes to review. Right away, I recognized him. Himmelfarb is a distinctive name, so it wasn’t hard to find a relative—an aunt, up in Towson. She explained the whole thing to me. Rhonda’s mother was seeing Skip’s father. She got pregnant with Rhonda, but I guess she knew the dad would never leave his family, so she went it alone. The dad kept seeing her, and life went on.

“Skip found out when he followed his dad one day. According to the aunt, their relationship was never the same after that. He shunned his father, not only for having the affair, but for not telling him he had a sister. Skip and Rhonda became friendly. The aunt thinks Skip felt guilty, because he got to live in a nice house with a regular family, while Rhonda and her mom got the short end of the stick.”

I nodded. The rain fell harder now. The squad cars’ blue and red flashing lights swept across the apartment buildings in a psychedelic clash. A few feet away from me, Skip lay on the ground, half his brain missing, turning cold and white as codfish. Cops had Rhonda by the elbows, leading her from the scene.

Duvall opened an umbrella and stood close enough to shelter us both. “After the accident, Rhonda dropped out of school. The whole thing screwed her up. She had therapy for a while, but her mom couldn’t afford to keep that going. Skip’s dad tried to help, but he couldn’t get too involved—not without blowing things at home.

“Skip finally told his mom about it. That pretty much tore the family apart. He told his aunt he’d never talk to his dad again as long as he lived. Last she heard, Skip was going to get a job and try to help Rhonda out the best he could.”

“Sounds like he was trying to be the father Rhonda never had,” I said.

“I’d say so.”

“I wonder how they ended up at Aces High.”

“When I first spoke to Rhonda, she let it slip that she’d heard about the job from an employee,” Duvall said. “Skip must have been working there. When he saw Schaeffer and Knudsen and realized who they were, he probably told Rhonda. Skip was always keeping his eyes and ears open, so he might have overheard them talking about the scam they were pulling and seen an opportunity to take revenge.”

“Or maybe Rhonda came up with the plan,” I said. “Either way, I don’t think murder was supposed to be part of it. But from what Rhonda told me, once she pulled the trigger on Knudsen, I think she was ready to do it again to Schaeffer.”

Duvall shook his head. “I guess Skip felt so guilty, he was willing to protect Rhonda at his own risk. Maybe he saw those guys as being like his dad—screwing Rhonda over and getting away with it.”

“It must have been awful for him,” I said. “Wanting to protect Rhonda, but not wanting to be party to murder.” I shivered.

“You know,” Duvall said, the beginning of a wry smile turning up the corner of his mouth. “You look like you could use a drink.”

I smiled. “How ’bout a nice, hot cup of coffee?”

Duvall nodded. “If that’s the drink you want, that’s what you get.” He put a hand on my arm. “Let’s go. I’ve got more to tell you. About Tom Garvey.”

f f f

Ray came by after work the next day. He even called first.