Pomp and Circumstantial Evidence

By Karen Mauck

From the author of Scraps comes a tale of murder and intrigue. Carrie Reillys past comes back to haunt her when she attends her high school reunion. Old grudges harbored for 10 years result in the death of the schools former star quarterback, and Carrie and her friends are the prime suspects. As her class rapidly gets smaller, she must face her demons and rush to find the identity of the killer before she becomes the next victim.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Oct 6, 2002
• ISBN: 9781469785332

Karen Mauck

Karen Mauck writes sexy romantic suspense and is the author of Scraps, Pomp and Circumstantial Evidence, and Last to Know. She lives in southeastern Michigan.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

Low moans turned to high-pitched screams, and in a panic I flung open the door, expecting to see someone being brutally murdered in my own house. Instead, I caught my husband in the impassioned embrace of our fresh-faced new nanny, Kimberly…

Detective Eddie Reilly wrote furiously as he sat at his cherry wood executive desk, his head cocked to support the phone between his broad shoulder and his ear. A gold Cross pen, gripped in a large hand with even larger knuckles from years of cracking them despite everything his mother told him, flew across the page. His yellow legal pad was filled with notes taken from the conversation, but soon the words gave way to doodles. Finally, he set his pen down on the desk in resignation. As Mark walked into the office, Eddie tore the sheet of paper from the pad, wadded it up, and with a barely audible sigh threw it into the wastebasket beside him, banking the shot off the side.

Well, Mrs. Temple, if you have already personally discovered him in such a situation with another woman, there is really nothing I can do for you. All I’d be doing is taking your money, Eddie said. Although it technically was a case, he was too kind a man to take a person’s money for something so open-and-shut as putting surveillance on an adulterer, after the adulterer had already been caught. He listened a bit longer and then said, I’m sorry Mrs. Temple, but the only thing I can do is advise you to get an attorney. Yes, Mrs. Temple. Goodbye, Mrs. Temple.

Eddie hung up the phone and lit a cigarette, then, remembering he had quit smoking, stubbed it out with another sigh, this time much louder. Deciding the day was probably a loss, he loosened his tie, which he didn’t really need anyway but years of wearing a police uniform had conditioned him to dress up for work. He carefully adjusted the reading glasses on his nose and picked up the newspaper lying folded on his desk. He opened it to the stock pages, and without looking up, addressed the younger man.

Have you slept with her yet?

Mark Benjamin, who had been walking across the small office to his own, identical, desk, stopped mid-stride and looked at Eddie over the top of his darkly tinted sunglasses in surprise.

Mrs. Temple? he asked, confused. Well, no, I don’t think so…

Eddie rephrased the question. Have you slept with Carrie yet? He still did not remove his bright green eyes from the newsprint. He had a nonchalant look on his weathered but still-handsome face, an expression that laid-back older man usually wore, but Mark knew better.

Sorry, but I make it a point never to talk about my sex life before breakfast, Mark said sardonically as he thumped his bagel and Big Gulp on the desk directly across from Eddie’s. He took off his glasses, draped his brown leather bomber jacket across the back of his chair, and sat down. You gonna read the sports pages? he asked, hoping to change the subject.

Eddie finally looked up from his paper. Not until you answer my question, he said, reaching across his desk and pulling the remaining sections of the newspaper closer to himself.

Mark Benjamin and Eddie Reilly were business partners, co-owners of R&B Detective Agency in Malibu, California. They were also best friends, despite their almost 25-year age difference, but Mark was beginning to wonder if their friendship would be strained because he was dating Eddie’s niece.

She came home pretty late last night, Eddie continued. And it was your fifth date.

That’s why you make the big bucks as a private investigator, Mark said with a lopsided grin after swallowing half his bagel in one bite. He was an amiable man, able to easily make friends with whomever he met, and tended toward the humorously sarcastic. He was also fiercely loyal. Look, she’s not a little girl, she’s 28 years old.

She’s also my niece, and the only family I have left, Eddie said. He had always been overprotective of his niece since his only brother Robert, her father, died of cancer four years earlier, leaving her the last surviving member of that branch of the Reilly tree. Her mother had died when she was only a toddler and she hardly remembered her. Eddie had never married and had no children of his own, so he regarded Carrie not only as his last relative, but as his own daughter. In turn, Carrie looked up to Eddie as a father figure.

Eddie looked directly into Mark’s deep blue eyes as he spoke. He was hoping that if he looked deep enough, he would fluster Mark enough to tell the truth. Usually worked with the criminals, at least, he thought.

Carrie Reilly had come to live with her Uncle Eddie about six months earlier. She had worked for an advertising agency in the Mid West but decided she would be happier outside of the corporate world, in relation to both finance and sanity, as an author. She published her first book, a children’s story called Sammy’s Silly Sea Serpent, which went straight to number two on the New York Times Bestseller List, and she moved out to California to be near her editor and publishing house. She used her spare time battling writer’s block by working at a bookstore.

At first Mark and Carrie were cool towards each other. Carrie had a tendency to keep men at arm’s length, and Mark was no exception. Mark bided his time, not wanting to push her, or for that matter, upset Eddie, who knew a little about his previous pseudo-Casanova lifestyle. Mark pretended he didn’t care when she was around, but he was never very good at lying. Finally, he broke down and surprised her with tickets to the circus. Flattered, and intrigued by the silliness of his idea of a date, she accepted. She still played it cool for her uncle’s sake, but soon they both gave into their feelings and admitted they were dating. Last night the two had gone to a jazz concert, and afterwards walked on the beach until three in the morning.

No. OK? No, I have not slept with Carrie, Mark said resignedly and with a twinge of embarrassment, but added a quick Yet with a smirk to rile the older man. Despite his insolence towards her uncle concerning this subject, Mark was also very protective of Carrie. He had noticed that she pulled away whenever her tried to get closer to her, almost as if she were frightened by their closeness, so he was taking things slowly. Something told him not to mess things up with this one. But he did not say that to Eddie.

Eddie just raised a silver eyebrow as he wordlessly tossed Mark the sports section. Still got it, he thought. Mark quickly opened the pages and buried his nose in it, hoping to hide the crimson blush he was sure was rising over his cheeks. Only a few stray tendrils of his wavy brown hair peeked out from behind the paper.

Don’t worry, I’m not going to molest her or anything. I know how much she means to you, Mark said from behind the newspaper when he felt he was in control of his embarrassment, his voice stronger than he felt. He looked away from the words he was not reading and stared out the window. The office was actually a den with its own entrance on the first floor of Eddie’s modest two-story home, and the window afforded a view of palm trees and the sunny Malibu beach. But Mark was lost in his thoughts and did not see them. He said quietly, contemplatively, as if he had just realized it, She means a lot to me too.

Eddie pretended not to hear the last part. Well, she’ll kick your butt if you do try something funny, he said with a forcefulness that almost surprised Mark. And so will I.

The rest of the morning was slow, which meant it would be a slow week as well. Monday mornings were usually when R&B got most of its business, after raucous weekends of kidnappings, affairs, murders, and general debauchery. Personally, Eddie hated dealing with the affairs. As an ex-cop, he would rather track down criminals, not horny, jilted lovers. But it paid the bills until a real case came along.

Eddie was finishing the crossword puzzle and Mark was loudly disagreeing with the paper’s sports stats boxes when Carrie walked in. She carried a large wicker basket in one hand, with a red and white checked table cloth draped over her other arm. Her shoulder length chestnut-colored hair, usually styled in a bob, was pulled back into a ponytail. Her emerald eyes, the same bright green as her uncle’s and matching almost exactly with her shirt, flashed with excitement as she bounced into the room and tried, unsuccessfully, to remain aloof.

Lunch is served, she announced. She set the basket on a chair and spread the table cloth out in the middle of the floor. As Mark and Eddie shot amused looks at each other, Carrie opened her basket and produced a loaf of rye bread, pickles, a deli bag filled with corned beef, and other goodies. She spread them out on the table cloth and sat down.

Well? she asked, looking at sweetly at the men, Aren’t you hungry?

OK, I give up. What do you want? Eddie asked, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest with a grin. It didn’t take a detective to figure out Carrie was up to something.

Carrie smiled brightly. I’m sure I don’t know what you mean. I just thought it would be nice to have a little picnic with my two favorite men. She produced a plastic container and removed the lid, allowing the enticing aroma of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies to waft into the room.

Mark, also grinning, rolled his chair toward the picnic and reached for a pickle. He bit into it with a crunch. You’ve got to learn to lie better, he said, waving the pickle at her for emphasis.

Oh, fine, she said, defeated, pulling out an envelope from her basket.

We’re going to a party! she exclaimed. I can’t wait to see them.

Mark tossed his empty Big Gulp cup into the garbage can next to Eddie’s desk. Three points! What party? Who’s ‘them’? he asked.

Carrie handed Mark the envelope. My 10-year high school class reunion. It’s this weekend. Could you come as my guest? Before Mark could answer, she turned and said, Uncle Eddie, there’s an invitation for you too. My old friend Darcy Anderson, you remember her, she would like you to come as her date because her fiancé is in the Navy and he can’t make it. I know this is short notice, but they just managed to track me down out here.

This announcement was typical Carrie: with her go-get-’em attitude, she had always been the spur-of-the-moment type, quite unlike her uncle. Also unlike her laid-back uncle, she was easily flustered and she used her rather short temper as a cover for her insecurities, of which she thought she had many.

Has it occurred to you it is February and that is Michigan? Eddie asked. Don’t tell me you want to go back to all that snow.

But this is my class reunion! I haven’t seen a lot of these people in 10 years! she pouted. Then he paused, put her hand on her hip, and said with a furrowed brow, But in some cases, I guess that might be a good thing.

Mark shrugged. I don’t see what the big deal is. I didn’t go to my class reunion.

That’s because you were in prison at the time, Eddie reminded him with a grin.

Mark and Eddie first met when Eddie was police chief and Mark played third base for the Angels. Mark had been charged with stealing and sabotaging the equipment of a rival player from the Yankees, as well as betting on the games. The evidence was stacked against him, but Mark maintained a New York third baseman framed him in an effort to eliminate competition for the coveted Gold Glove Award. Mark was sentenced to five years in prison, but Eddie was suspicious. Mark had served about four months of his sentence by the time Eddie managed to get him out on an Appeal, and together they worked to prove his innocence and send the right man to prison. That was five years ago, and ever since then they were best friends.

Well, Benjamin, looks like you’re due then, Carrie smiled. She called him by his last name, mostly because she liked the name, but in part because it distanced herself from him. She truly liked Mark, but was scared of getting too close to any man. Her past had taught her to be wary of anything with three legs. Darcy has a huge house and she said she will put us all up. And, she said slyly, I already bought the plane tickets, nonrefundable, I might add. It was her turn to grin.

She’s related to you, Mark said with a hint of defeat in his voice.

Yeah, but she’s your girlfriend, Eddie threw back.

Mark noted the term Eddie used to describe Carrie; he smiled but said nothing. He’ll come around yet, he thought. Hopefully, so will she.

CHAPTER 2

The flight was delayed on the runway in a layover in Cincinnati for more than two hours due to a snowstorm, and no one was allowed to get off the plane. Finally, the pilot received word that Bishop International Airport in Flint, Michigan, was open and the flight resumed. When the plane finally landed at their destination and the