Murder Deja Vu

wanted more than anything to wipe the crooked smile off his face, but Harris Stroud said Minette would never order Lurena Howe’s murder. He’d imply what he wanted done, and Klugh would do it. Then, Minette would claim he had nothing to do with any murder.
    “What have you got against Minette, Sheriff?”
    “I don’t like him,” Payton said.
    “You can’t pin ordering a murder on someone because you don’t like him. So you can offer all the incentives you want―I didn’t kill anyone. And Robert can say whatever he damn well pleases to further his own agenda, but he can’t prove I’m guilty of committing any crime, murder or anything else.” Klugh’s smile twisted, his steely glare aimed at Payton. “And neither can you.”
    Payton forced a grin in return, but it hurt like hell. He glanced at Stone, who hadn’t said a word. Then he turned back to Klugh. “Well, you leave me no choice, Mr. Castell.”
    For the first time, Payton saw Klugh’s façade crack, much like the plaster on the walls of his office. “I believe some people in Chicago would be chomping at the bit to know your whereabouts. If I don’t get what I want, I’ll make sure they do.”
    “Castell? I don’t know any Castell,” Klugh said, but his false bravado didn’t fool Payton.
    “We have your fingerprints,” Stone said. “We ran them through AFIS, and guess what? They belong to Victor Castell. You can deny it all you want, but fingerprints don’t lie.”
    Payton could see the wheels churning in Klugh’s head, weighing his options. His smile faded. “That’s…that’s blackmail.”
    “Call it whatever you want,” Payton said. “I don’t care. I get what I want and Detective Stone will keep you in protective custody. Maybe the feds can insure your safety, take you out of the main prison population. Better yet, give them something they want and they could offer you witness protection.”
    Slipping a stick of gum from the pack he carried in his shirt pocket, Payton curled it into his mouth. “Robert Minette committed federal crimes. The FBI will find your information about Minette and the people in Chicago valuable to them. And I’d get Minette. If you choose to stay silent, I may not get him for ordering a murder, but I’ll get him for something. He’ll offer you up like dessert to save his ass, and I’ll have to weigh my options. He may not go to jail for as long as I’d like, but he’ll be alive. Which, if you don’t play ball, is more than I can hope for you. I’ve heard those Chicago guys don’t play pretty, especially if their prey isn’t protected.”
    Payton got to his feet. So did Stone, who cuffed Klugh’s hands behind his back. “Victor Castell, I’m placing you under arrest for the Chicago murder of Jimmy DiSanto and for questioning in the 1984 disappearance of Harry Klugh of Philadelphia and for the murder of Lurena Howe.”
    Klugh turned and spoke over his shoulder in a calm, clear voice. “I want to speak to my lawyer. I may have information you need, as long as I get what I want.”
    “No, you listen,” Payton said. “This is about me getting what I want. I can’t promise anything. You’re going down. How far down depends on what you have to offer. Detective Stone will keep you secluded until we come to some arrangement. However, if you choose not to cooperate, we’ll make sure the people in Chicago know your whereabouts. Understand?”
    Klugh went into thinking mode. He nodded reluctantly. “Understood.”
    Payton heaved a sigh of relief as he followed J. C. Stone out the door of Harry Klugh’s office and down the stairs. Klugh knew how the game worked, and he knew how to cut his losses. Minette was going down.
    J.C. Stone’s voice echoed in the stairwell. “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will…”

Chapter Fifty-Five
More Than Murder

    New England

    C losure. Reece hadn’t understood the word earlier. He understood it better now. That’s what he wanted. Closure.
    He stood in front of Daughtry Custom Homes exactly as he had a week before. He’d taken his dose of meds an hour earlier, but his chest ached, and he was shaking as if he were in the middle of an earthquake. He pulled the heavy wooden door open with his right hand and entered.
    Today, the receptionist sat at her desk in the lobby. From her panicked expression, she recognized Reece. Didn’t everyone? Rolling back her chair, she positioned herself to escape from the man who chopped