Death at the Summit Page 7

  “I don’t know, but this doesn’t add up. Could Mac could have been poisoned?”

  I dropped the sweat shirt I had removed from Moo under the desk then opened his drawer to pull out a different Christmas vest. Moo shoved his head between us and nuzzled the drawer, which also held treats. I grabbed the container of treats and gave him one. Then I wrestled the vest onto him. It was green-and-red plaid with a Christmas tree on his back. “I don’t think so. Is there a poison that would make you bleed a bunch? We need to give this to Brian right away.”

  Moo bumped the container hard with his nose, and treats spilled over the desk. He was right on top of them, but before I could do more than yell out his name, Moo had picked the desk clean of every treat.

  Mary leaped from her chair. “No, no, no, Moo!”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “The memory card is gone.”

  I grabbed Moo and lifted his right jowl then the left one then pried his mouth open. Nothing was inside but massive teeth and his tongue. “Maybe he just knocked it on the floor.” I crawled onto the floor to check.

  Mary flopped into the chair. “No, I saw it disappear into this mouth. What do we tell Brian?”

  “Nothing, we say nothing. If anyone asks, we flushed it down the toilet hours ago. That video was too weird. Don’t tell anyone—that includes Minx and Tiger.”

  “Why not just tell the truth that Moo ate the card?”

  “Do you think anyone would believe the dog ate the evidence? That sounds an awful lot like ‘the dog ate my homework.’ Let’s just say that right after he gave me the card, I flushed it without looking at it.”

  Mary nodded. “Okay, that works. Something about that video was really off.”

  Chills crept up my arms, and I rubbed them, hoping to knock the feeling away.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Walking down the hall, I kept an eye on Moo, watching him for choking or intestinal discomfort. I had looked around on the web, and Great Danes had been known to have eaten much larger things with no harm, but that didn’t mean I felt good about it.

  Mary sidled up to me, whispering so her voice wouldn’t carry, list of suspects in hand. “Wanna talk to Bucky next? Maybe we can see what he and Mac were fighting about.”

  “I’m gonna try a bluff. Just go along with me.”

  Mary rolled her eyes at me. “I think I know how to investigate a murder. Geez, this isn’t my first time.”

  “Two murders, and now we’re experts, eh?” I chucked.

  Heading toward the dining area, we spotted Bucky alone. Sneaking Moo in, we headed over to Bucky.

  “Hi, Bucky, right?” I extended my hand. “I’m Di, and this is Mary. We work here at the Westmound Center. Is there anything I can get you?”

  He stood to shake my hand then introduced himself to Mary before sitting back down and shaking his head.

  “Do you mind if we sit? We heard about the fight you had with Mac and thought you might want to…” I purposely trailed off then sat quietly, looking at him. I was hoping that he would feel compelled to defend himself.

  Bucky’s mouth pursed up, his cheeks puffed out, then he blew out a hard breath. “You have to understand, I am thrilled to work for Westmound. Elizabeth and the whole company have been great. My issue is not with them.”

  Mary and I both nodded while I said, “Of course, understandable,” in what I hoped was a great impression of understanding.

  He looked between Mary and me as we nodded, then he continued. “That being said, I will never forgive Mac for what he did. That is not what this industry is about. Cheating, deception, and cutthroat practices have no place here. We are about honesty, family, and community.”

  I nodded while frantically trying to figure out how to get him to explain without breaking our bluff. “Do you want to tell us, in your words, what happened?”

  His face was red, and the muscles in his jaw flexed. He stared intently at the table until, in a rush, he started talking. “Remember when the bowhunter division rules were changed suddenly eight years ago?”

  I didn’t know what the bowhunter division meant beyond the fact that in tournaments, a “division” meant a class in competition that was defined by what equipment was used in the tournament. I certainly didn’t know about rule changes.

  Mary took over. “Yes, though the details are a bit fuzzy right now.”

  He swung around to her, raking a hand through his hair, then undid the top button on his shirt, which had been straining again his throat. “Most of my sales were from archers competing in the bowhunter division. We had a brand-new line coming out that met the current rules at great expense to the company. Then suddenly, two months before the competition season, the rules committee announced a change to rules regarding sights in the bowhunter division. Suddenly, my entire line of products was not allowed. But guess what company had just launched several new lines of sights that just happened to meet the new rules?”

  “MacSights,” Mary and I said in unison.

  “Yep, you got it. It was too close to the season to get out any new products, and our sales essentially went to zero overnight. There was no way to recover. Rather than firing my employees, I sold to Westmound. I don’t regret that choice, but I regret having to make the choice at all. Mac deserved all that he got and more. If life was fair, he would have been forced to sell his company to Westmound, but instead, he got to decide when and how to sell his company.”

  “So you think he had some hand in changing the rules?” I needed to make sure I understood rather than just assuming.

  He slammed his palm down hard on the table, making both Mary and me jump. “Of course! Don’t be naïve. He bribed or blackmailed them. I heard the three members of the committee went hunting with Mac for years. I think a couple of the members resigned shortly afterward. I wasn’t the only company that was upset about the rule changes but I was affected the most. We rallied and protested. The rule was eventually modified, but by then, all the archers had bought new equipment from MacSights, and I was in the hole so far that I could never crawl out.”

  Mary shook her head. “That’s not right.”

  “No, it’s not right. People shouldn’t be able to win when they are cheaters. And I told him as much today. He just laughed at me. It took everything in me not to punch him.” His voice was rising with each sentence. Suddenly, he leaned forward, imploring us. “You have to convince Elizabeth to clean house at MacSights. The whole family is corrupt. I know that M.C. was part of that rules situation. He is a cheat through and through. And Kandi is trouble, cold and calculating. I’m surprised she didn’t knife Mac in his sleep. She only married him for the money. They’re going to ruin Westmound if they stay. Poison, both of them.” He was heaving huge breaths.

  Moo whined next to me and huddled in close. I wrapped an arm around Moo’s frame and rubbed his side. Bucky’s intensity was unsettling. “I’ll mention it to Liam.”

  Bucky sat back in his seat, relaxed. His face was no longer red, and he casually crossed a leg onto the opposite knee. “Thank you. Liam’s a good guy. I can’t say how grateful I am that Mac is dead. I think I will throw a party when I get home.” He cupped his hands around a cup of coffee and smiled.

  I stood up. “That sounds nice.” No, it didn’t. It sounded insane. “If you need anything, let us know.”

  Mary mirrored my actions, and we practically ran out of the cafeteria and smacked right into M.C.

  He snorted. “What are you gals running from?” He looked over our shoulders. “Oh, Bucky, paranoid old goat. He’s such a weirdo. Business is business, but he’s a stick in the mud. I’m bored. Will you entertain me for a bit?” He had a broad smile and friendly nature.

  “Sure, we have a few minutes.” And a few questions. After we followed him back into the dining room, he pulled out chairs for Mary and me. On the far side of the room, Loggin gave us a quick glance before he looked away.

  I remembered Mac was M.C.’s father. “How are you holding up, M.C.?�
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  He waved a hand in the air. “I think I’m in shock but also not surprised. Dad was an aggressive man. You live by the sword; you die by the sword. That’s how life is meant to be. Too many pansies around, unwilling and unable to do what needs to be done for success. Those that were weak resented Dad. Like Bucky—every time we ran into him he was like, ‘Wah wah you ruined my life. Boo hoo!’ What a sap.”

  I had thought the conversation with Bucky was awkward, but this was taking it to a new level. Mary shifted in her seat next to me then poked me in the side.

  “You think he killed your dad?”

  “Could be. Or Kandi. Or Cold. Or Loggin. Or Orion. Or Minx. Or heck, maybe one of you. The list is endless.” He leaned back in his chair and kicked his feet on the table to reveal turquoise cowboy boots.

  “But not you?” The question popped out. I held my breath—I had just accused M.C. of killing his father. How heartless was I?

  He took it all in stride. “Why would I kill my father? I loved him and had nothing to gain. Dad was no idiot. Kandi’s hot, but she’s not trustworthy. He gave me my inheritance before the wedding. The company was doing well, and we both got enough from our salary. You’re admiring my boots, aren’t you?”

  The boots were distracting. They weren’t exactly good looking, but they were hard to look away from.

  “I got them in Spain last year. They were handcrafted by a man that had the secrets of leatherworking passed down to him through five generations. The leather is artisan tanned then formed with hand tools. The whole process took months, and the final step was to form them specifically to my feet. I shouldn’t tell you how much they cost, but if you promise not to tell, they were fourteen thousand dollars. I am thinking of getting a second set.”

  I was at a loss for words. I didn’t know boots could cost that much and couldn’t imagine ever having enough money to justify that kind of price tag. “Wow. That is…… wow.”

  “Nice, huh? Not everyone can appreciate the finer things in life, but when you have good taste, you see things others don’t.” He admired his boots some more.

  Mary seemed mesmerized by the boots. I saw her mouth, “Fourteen thousand,” a few times then tentatively reach out to pet one.

  M.C. smiled widely. “Go on, touch one. They feel like butter, don’t they?”

  She stroked the toe of the boot a few times then ran a finger over the embroidery along the side. “Wow.”

  Taking her hand back, she looked at him. I elbowed her in the side. She shook her head and pulled herself out of her trance.

  “Nice boots,” I said. “Uh, what does M.C. stand for? I have always wondered.”

  “I’m named after my dad. He’s MacIntosh Davis, and I’m MacIntosh Davis II. When I was born, people started calling him Big Mac and me Little Mac. Obviously. I didn’t want to go by Little Mac forever so I switched to M.C. around fifteen and people dropped the ‘Big’ from his nickname.”

  “Do you know why someone would kill your dad?” I tried to bring the conversation back around.

  “He made some nasty remarks to Orion. I told you about Bucky. I’m pretty sure Kandi was fooling around. Minx was still mad about that time she tried to seduce Dad and Kandi busted her. Loggin was pissed that his sponsorship deal fell through and kept threatening us. Who knows? People are jealous of success, and Dad was definitely successful.” He looked over our shoulder, sat up, and stomped his boots onto the floor. “Looks like it’s my turn to talk to the police.”

  Brian stood at the entrance to the dining area. Brian’s eyes landed on us, and he headed our way. “Can I speak with you, sir?”

  “Sure thing, officer.” M.C. gave us a wink, stood, and started to leave with Brian.

  I burst out of my seat. “Brian, wait, can I talk to you for a second? Privately.”

  “Sure. Wait here, M.C.”

  M.C. leaned against a wall while Brian and I went into the hallway.

  “Uh, how did Mac die? Stabbing? Bludgeoning? Shooting? Poisoning?”

  Brian shook his head through my questions, but when I got to poisoning, he snorted. “Definitely not poisoning. I told you I’m not telling you how he died. You didn’t find something, did you?”

  “No, sir, I have nothing to share with you.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “I’m suspicious when you call me ‘sir.’”

  “I have nothing to share with you, you big doofus.”

  He chuckled and shook his head. “That’s better. Now if you have nothing to share, then let me get back to work.”

  I went back to sit with Mary, only to spot Minx hesitating in the doorway. At the far side of the room, Loggin watched her from the edge of his seat.

  I scooted my chair around so my back was to him, and patted the seat next to me. Minx came over and sat down.

  “How was it?”

  Minx sighed dramatically and flopped her head down onto the table.

  Mary leaned over to pat her back for the millionth time today. “That good, eh?”

  Minx rolled her head to the side so that her cheek was resting on the table. “If I wasn’t feeling crappy before, then let me tell you, I feel awful now. Explaining the whole story to Brian was beyond embarrassing. I really need to get a handle on my life.”

  Her voice had a bit more strength to it. Instead of being hollow and wistful, she sounded a bit disgusted.

  “Minx, can we speak with you?”

  We whipped around to see Elizabeth with Jess behind her. Jess was nervously spinning her phone in her hand.

  Minx went a little white. “Yes, ma’am, of course.” She stood up, knocking her chair over backward in her haste. Elizabeth’s face was impossible to read as they quietly left the room.

  “Do you think they are going to tell her that she isn’t going to be an OSA?” Mary asked.

  I sucked air through my teeth. “Ouch, if that’s the case, I think Minx might win the award for the worst day ever. Well, I mean, after Mac.”

  I checked around the room. Loggin was no longer watching us and was instead intent on his phone.

  I scooted over next to Mary. “Get out the list, Shaggy.”

  She pulled the list out of her pocket with a giggle and smoothed it on the table. Moo shoved his head into the list and gave it a good lick before Mary could move it out of his reach. “I assume that we have already eliminated Orion and Minx, right?”

  “Sure, my advanced detective gut tells me that they aren’t killers. But M.C. and Bucky— they are still on the list. I think either of them could have done it.”

  “Definitely. I heard that Bucky is a nice guy, but he was so angry, and M.C. was weird.”

  “He was pretty casual about the fact that his dad was murdered just a few hours ago. Could he be in shock or something?”

  Mar pursed her lips and looked up at the ceiling for a bit before replying, “Maybe. We need to still talk to Loggin.”

  I followed her gaze across the room to Loggin. He had made a bad first impression this morning. We would need to see what his deal was.

  “I need that memory card back.” A beefy male hand gripped my upper arm hard.

  I let out a yip and reared around to see who it was. Cold’s fingers dug into my arm hard, pinching my skin.

  “Ouch! Don’t touch me like that!” My voice came out angry and aggressive, but inside, I was startled and scared. Moo leaped to his feet and moved close. He let out a growl.

  Cold leaned in and hissed in my ear, “Give it to me.”

  “Di, what’s going on here?” Loggin called out as he started to cross the room.

  Cold dropped my arm. I rubbed the spot while the two men faced each other. Moo shoved his nose into my face, sniffing me all over while I petted him and spoke softly to him. “It’s okay; everything’s fine.” He pushed his body up against me, pinning me in my chair while placing himself between me and the men.

  Cold chuckled while replying, “Hey, no problems, Loggin. I just realized that the memory card I gave them this morning ha
d footage from a friend’s wedding. I need it back right now.”

  Mary’s mouth had been hanging open, and she shut it with a snap. “It’s gone.”

  He swung back to us with narrowed eyes. “What do you mean? Where is it?”

  I swallowed hard. “I flushed it. I knew that even if we deleted the fight off the card, that it was recoverable, so I had to destroy it. The easiest way was to flush it.” Or feed it to a big dog. The hair on Moo’s back was sticking straight up. I grabbed his collar as he pushed forward, growling, his teeth bared.

  “So it’s gone? Like gone gone, never coming back?” He said it slowly, considering each word.

  “Ya, very gone.”

  He cast his eyes and seemed to think for a bit before nodding thoughtfully. “That’ll work.”

  “What going on? Is there a party and no one invited me?” Orion called out as he, Tiger, and Liam entered the cafeteria.

  Cold grabbed Orion’s hand, the palms slapping together loudly, the tendons in their hands and wrists straining visibly in the grip. “No one could have a party without you.”

  Liam came to my other side and leaned over. “Everything okay?”

  I nodded and rubbed my arm. Would I have a bruise there? “We’re good now. But it was weird for a while. I’ll tell you later.”

  “It’s nice here and all, but seriously, how long are we stuck?” Cold had a huge smile slapped on his face. Gone was any hint of the anger.

  Orion sucked air through his teeth and shook his head. “Sorry, man, but we’re snowed in. The police can’t even make it here until the plows can clear the roads. The snow is supposed to stop this evening, and they have us high up on the priority list.”

  I knew that no one was supposed to leave, but realizing that no one could leave was a bit different, especially after the tense interaction with Cold. I stood up and put more space between us. Mary followed suit. Tiger moved in next to us.

  “Loggin, we’re ready to meet with you, if you are interested,” Orion suggested.