On our way home I called John Carrington. On his cell.
"John," I said.
"Max?"
"Yes. Listen, I've got a problem."
He must have sensed the urgency, or some might have said panic, in my voice. He didn't give me the usual business.
"What happened, Max?"
"Ginny and I were just attacked. Almost driven off the road. Shot at. We managed to escape. The other car spun out on Snake Road."
He yelled something to someone. I couldn't quite make it out.
"I just called it in. Police should be there shortly. How long ago was that?"
"Five minutes."
"Did you see the driver? The car? Anything?"
"The car was black. That's all I saw. But there should be dents all over it. Back bumper. Front bumper. He really gave us some shots."
"Is Imogen OK?"
"Yes, she's shaken up, but she's fine."
"And you?"
"Yeah, I'm fine too."
"Good. I'm glad you're both OK. Let me go. I'll hop in a car and see if we can't track down this maniac."
"Thanks, John."
"Just hang in there, Max. I'll take care of it."
Then John disconnected.
We eventually fell asleep, and when we woke the next morning it all seemed like a dream. A very bad dream.
"Were we really shot at?" Imogen asked.
"I'm afraid so, my love."
"I thought I was just drunk."
"I would have thought getting run off the road and shot at might have sobered you up."
"I did tell you that I had way too much to drink, didn't I?"
My phone rang, and I looked at the time, still lying in bed. It had already turned 10:30. I fumbled for the phone and answered it.
"Max?" John Carrington said.
"John, hi."
"We've got your man."
"What?"
I was still trying to wake up.
"The man who drove you off of the road last night."
"That is fantastic news!" I said, excited.
"He was hard to miss. His car, well what was left of it, was still sitting on Snake Road when we got there. I don't know if it blew up or if he lit it on fire, but it was still burning. He had fled the scene but didn't get too far. We picked him right up."
"Thank you, John. Thank you."
"You're never going to believe who it was," he said.
Who could it have been? I didn't know.
"Who?"
"Bill, the golf marshal from Delmar."
What? Bill had tried to kill us? We had been right. He was involved in Carl's murder. Maybe he murdered Carl. Maybe he didn't have any connection to Lee. Maybe he had just wanted him dead. Maybe Carl had promised him some money. Maybe he was the one who had gotten him to invest his life savings in the first place. Perhaps he was on to the Ponzi scheme and couldn't get his money out. So he killed him. Payback for ruining his life. Trapping Bill at Delmar. Forced to work until he dropped dead.
That's why he had been so angry with me. That's why he had punched me in the face. That's why he didn't want to talk to Imogen or me anymore. We had violated his privacy, figured out his dirty little secret, and then threatened to divulge it to the world. Destroying his life, taking away his freedom, throwing him in prison for the rest of his life where he would die an angry old bull full of regret.
"Max?" John said.
I was speechless. I didn't know how much time had passed. My mind wandered, lost in thought.
"Yes, sorry, I'm here."
"I've got some other news for you. Rather bad news."
"What?" I asked.
"Eric Milford is dead."
I wasn't sure that I heard him correctly.
"Eric Milford, the member from Delmar, is dead?"
"I'm afraid so, Max. He was found shot outside of his house. The other night."
Were the shots meant for me or Eric that night? I had thought that I heard Eric's voice call at me while I was on the roof. I had thought that he shot at me. But maybe it was someone else. Someone was trying to kill Eric. Maybe that second shot was the one that did him in. Maybe the first one was meant for me. A bonus of sorts. Two for one.
"I have a hunch your buddy Bill was the guy who did it."
"I have a confession to make. I was on Eric's roof that night. Someone tried to kill me. It might have been the same guy who got Eric."
"Are you telling me you left the scene of a crime?"
He was right. I should have filled him in. Here was John acting the part of police sergeant. Angry with me for not reporting the incident that had taken place the other night. I didn't blame him.
"In my defense, I was shot at."
"Were you going to tell me?" John asked.
"I was planning on it but lunch, drinks, and dinner got in the way."
"Max. Max. Max."
"John, don't. I know."
"Well, we might have nailed two birds with one stone—"
Looked like we were back to colleague status.
"You think Bill's involved in Carl's death too?"
"Not only do I think he's involved, I think he's the one who killed him. I think you two had it right."
Sergeant John Carrington, detective extraordinaire. No one would ever know that Imogen and I had quickly become the secret to his success.
"I'm sorry to hear that," I said. "I mean, I'm happy that we got him. I'm just sorry for Carl. That he—"
"I know, Max. I know. We've still got to question him, formally charge him. You know, all the fun stuff," he said.
I knew all too well what happened down at the police station. Once upon a time, I was the one sitting in one of those cells waiting for the exact same thing. If it hadn't been for Carrington, my life just might be a little different these days.
"Yeah, I know. Anyway, thanks, John," I said.
"I'll be in touch. You two stay out of trouble."
"Will do," I said, then disconnected.
I had failed to mention the Ponzi scheme and Endicott Financial to John. I was distracted. It was Bill. I was still trying to wrap my head around it. I had to tell Ginny. She had heard the conversation but was definitely missing the most important parts.
"It was Bill, wasn't it?" she said.
"You're a wonder."