Free The Murders at Astaire Castle (A Mac Faraday Mystery) by Lauren Carr Page A

bite wounds—” She stopped to look from David to Mac and then back to the police chief. “The EMTs said he’s been living in the wilderness with no human contact. Is that true?”
    “For at least a decade,” David told her. “You’ve seen him.”
    “Judging by the way he smells, I’d believe it,” she said.
    “Not too long ago,” Mac said, “I heard of authorities arresting a guy for breaking and entering who’d been living in the wilderness with no human interaction for thirty years. He had set up a tent that was green, so it blended into the wood surroundings. He lived off of food that he stole from campers during the night and homes near the woods where he lived.”
    “Did he think he was a wolf?” the nurse asked Mac.
    “No,” he answered.
    “Then this case takes the prize,” she said.
    “What’s going to happen to Riley?” David asked her.
    “We’ll only keep him here long enough to determine if he has a physical ailment that needs to be addressed,” she said. “Once we determine that he’s fine physically, he’ll be shipped off to a psychiatric facility. Hopefully, he has family who can make arrangements for him at one of the better hospitals where he’ll get treatment. If he ends up on the government dime, all they’ll do is keep him drugged and locked up.”
    “I’ll find his sister,” David said. “Hopefully, she can afford to take care of him.”
    “If she can’t, I will.” Mac was as surprised by his offer as David and the nurse.
    “Mac, you don’t—” David objected.
    “He’s your friend,” Mac said. “That makes him my friend. The Forsythe Foundation is set up to do this type of thing.”
    “Forsythe Foundation?” the nurse asked. “Is that a government agency?”
    “No, it’s a private foundation and I’m the chair.” Mac dug a business card out of his wallet. “It’s named after Mickey Forsythe, a fictional multi-millionaire who helped people by solving murder cases. But this is a real foundation set up by Robin Spencer. We provide legal representation for those who need it, but can’t afford it; we pay for medical care; we provide investigative services; and we’ve even awarded a full scholarship to send a young man to college whose father was a police officer killed in the line of duty.” He tapped the card in her hand. “Give that to your business office to put in Riley Adam’s file. You’ll get a call from Ed Willingham to arrange payment for his treatment.”
    For the first time since the start of the conversation, a smile came to the nurse’s lips. “Anything you say, Mr. Faraday.”
    When she walked away, David turned to Mac. “Mr. Faraday,” he muttered in a mocking tone.
    “That’s my name,” Mac said. “Don’t wear it out.”
    Slyly, David said in a low voice, “Thank you, Mac. I do appreciate you helping Riley.”
    Embarrassed by the expressed gratitude, Mac shrugged. “It’s the least I could do after trying to shoot him.”

Chapter Seven

    They rode back to Spencer in silence. Mac usually didn’t mind silence, except in this case, he could see that David had something weighing heavy on his mind. He had assumed that it was guilt or concern for Riley until David broke the silence at the red light where Garrett Highway intersected with Route 495.
    “Can I ask you a question?” David peered into the rear view mirror at the car behind them to avoid looking directly at Mac. The casualness in his tone was forced.
    “Sure.”
    The light turned green. David eased the cruiser forward and turned right to cross the bridge. “Do you know anyone …” His voice trailed off.
    Mac had begun to think that David had changed his mind about asking him whatever it was he was going to ask when he turned onto Spencer Drive to take then along the lakeshore toward Spencer Point.
    David waited until after making the turn before starting again. “Is there anyone in your past … someone who you have hurt so badly that you’re afraid—too