Dressed to Kill

by Sara B Gauldin

  I hurried to type a reply. “Sounds good. I’ll see you at six-thirty?”

  My phone buzzed with her reply. “Perfect.”

  ***

  Ava lived in a gated community. Her house would equal six of my dad's house. The place looked like a bloated dollhouse, full of brick-a-brack and patios. At any moment, I expected someone to come out and recite the balcony scene from Romeo and Juliet on one of the many decks.

  Genevieve and I climbed out of her rental car and walked up the front steps. She rang the bell, and we waited. I expected a bedraggled Ava to answer the door, but instead, a young man, exquisitely chiseled in all the right places, opened the door wearing just sweatpants. "Can I help you?" he asked.

  For a moment, I wondered if we had the right address. Genevieve flipped out her FBI ID, and I followed her example. "We need to speak with Ava Lenore," she said.

  "It isn't even seven a.m. She’s in bed."

  "I'm sorry. We showed you our IDs‒who are you?" I asked.

  “Brandon Sawyer. I’m Ava's personal assistant.”

  "How personally do you assist her?" Genevieve looked at the scantily dressed man with derision.

  "Ava’s a very busy woman. She needs help in many areas, including having someone to answer her door so she can get her beauty sleep," Brandon said.

  Genevieve stepped forward, intruding into Brandon’s space. "Well, I'm afraid Ava will need to wake up. This interview can't wait."

  Brandon shifted his weight back and forth, deciding what to do. "All right, but she won’t be happy about this."

  Genevieve smiled sweetly. "That’s the beauty part: it doesn't matter if our meeting pleases her. We still need to speak with her right away, so please go wake her, or I’ll do it myself".

  I had to admire Genevieve’s style. I imagined the two of us sweeping the house, guns in hand.

  Brandon must've considered the same. He opened the door and waved us into a sitting room that looked as if it should be in a Vegas hotel and hurried off to find Ava.

  "Interesting," I commented.

  "I wonder how long he's been 'working' for Ava," Genevieve said.

  "I don't know, but I have a feeling Ralph wouldn’t have been supportive of her in-house help."

  She shook her head. "No, not if they were in a committed relationship."

  Ava came into the room, wearing a satin robe and apparently not much else. Her perfect hair was swept back in a cute up-do. There was no sign of the horrid bruise she'd displayed on network TV. "What is this? Did you invite yourself into my home? I'm not somebody you can just drop in on whenever you feel like it."

  "Celebrity status doesn’t give you immunity from the law," Genevieve said.

  "Immunity? What about courtesy?"

  "We're being courteous by not showing up at two a.m. and demanding you come to the police station. We thought you’d be more comfortable here, in your own home."

  "And away from the news cameras," I added.

  Ava rolled her eyes. "Fine. What do you want?" She plopped down on an overstuffed chair.

  "We have a few questions we need to ask about the day Ralph Maddox was murdered." Genevieve took out a pen and a notebook to write her statement down. "If it’s all right, I have a paper here for you to sign, and we’ll record this interview. It may keep us from coming back over and over to clarify your responses."

  "Fine," Ava huffed, but she leaned forward and signed the document.

  Genevieve took out a small, digital recorder and pushed record. "State your name for the recording," she demanded.

  "Ava Lenore."

  "Okay, and your legal name, please."

  "That’s confidential."

  "Not in a murder investigation. State your real name."

  "Heather Andria Lotts."

  I almost fell over. Ava used a fake name. She'd reinvented herself. No wonder I'd found so little about her background when I'd researched her.

  "Ms. Lotts, where were you on the night of December tenth between the hours of 5:00 p.m. and 8:00 p.m.?"

  "You know I was with Ralph Maddox, downtown, near the Camelot Theater."

  "And why were you there?" Genevieve looked at Ava with intensity.

  Ava never flinched. "We were on a date. Ralph took me to a show. We went for a walk."

  "Where did you walk from and to?" I asked.

  "We left the theater and walked maybe…five blocks, heading for Hugo’s Cafe on Twelfth Street."

  "When you left the theater, you were photographed by a paparazzi by the name of Riley Lane, but as you continued your walk, the photographer didn't follow you. Why was that?" asked Richards.

  I watched Ava, trying to read her reactions.

  "I don't know." Ava pouted with her arms crossed over her chest.

  "Why do you suppose they'd stop taking pictures and turn away when they make their living taking pictures?" I asked.

  "Fine. I paid her. I told the lady I'd give her two-hundred dollars if she'd go away."

  "And why were you so desperate to make her go away?" I asked. My stomach boiled when I realized Ava had left out a significant detail in her televised story and her first police statement. I was willing to bet that if Riley Lane hadn't had turned a blind lens after the payoff, Ava's statement would have other glaring holes in it.

  "I wanted privacy. We were on a date. Not everything is for the public eye."

  "So, you weren't a fan of how you looked on Ralph's arm?" Genevieve asked.

  "Why would you say that? It wasn't like that." Ava stomped her foot in mock indignation.

  I cleared my throat. "I can assume the arrangement had to do with the large about of money Ralph Maddox had."

  "Are you calling me a gold digger?" Ava's tone was sharp.

  "No, I'm asking if your interest in Ralph Maddox was financial rather than personal."

  "Does it look like I need his money?" Her voice raised a full octave.

  "We'll ask the questions,” Genevieve said. "On the day you were attacked, had you spoken with Bob Maddox?'

  "No. Why would I?" Ava rolled her eyes.

  "Again, we'll ask the questions." Genevieve's voice was cool and level. I admired her restraint. "Why did you and Ralph stop your stroll?"

  "Ralph saw a man in the alley."

  "This is a big city." Ava did her best impression of concern. "Unfortunately, there are many people who have nowhere to go but an alleyway.”

  “Was that a normal thing for you?" I asked.

  “For me, no. I mean, I donate to charity. I'm a good person, but you never know—people are crazy."

  "So, Ralph went into the alleyway first?" Genevieve asked.

  "Yeah. He pointed at somebody moving in the alleyway. I didn't know what he was talking about at first." Ava had relaxed back into her seat. I noticed her story had begun to line up with what Beck had told me.

  Genevieve wrote something on her notepad before asking her next question. "Was that normal for Ralph?"

  "OMG! He was such a do-gooder. He was always trying to help someone. It was awful, sometimes. I mean, I deserved his attention."

  "But he gave it away?" I tried to appear concerned, but the actress’s selfishness was repulsive.

  "He was a big sap, always trying to help someone. I bet he wouldn't even squish a bug if it crawled out in front of him."

  "But you would?" I asked.

  "Well, I wouldn’t mind if someone did it for me. I mean, I wear the best shoes."

  "So, when Ralph went into the alley, why did you follow him?" I asked.

  "Well, I wanted to know what he was doing. It seemed strange, someone lying on the ground like that. I thought maybe they were dead. I never saw a dead person before, I mean, except at a funeral after they were already fixed up and looking all plastic again."

  Ava’s moral compass was questionable. "So, you wanted to see a dead body?"

  "I...I don't know. I guess it was curiosity."

  "What happened next?" Genevieve asked.

  “Ralph got
on his phone and called nine-one-one. He said he thought the man had overdosed. I bent down and touched that nasty coat, and Ralph asked the man if he was all right."

  "And did the man respond?"

  "Yes. He sat up, took the coat off his head, jumped up, and came after me. He hit me twice before Ralph grabbed him and the two of them fell over. The man was hitting Ralph, and Ralph was trying to hold him down to protect me."

  I noticed that Ava didn’t mention getting hit with a bottle. "Did you recognize the man?"

  "Oh, yes. It was Ralph's brother, Bob."

  "How did you know?" Genevieve asked.

  "It was no mystery. We met once at Ralph's office. Ralph and I were supposed to go out to lunch, but he was too busy. He was always so busy. That part was hard.”

  "And when you met Bob, did you think he looked like Ralph?"

  "Yeah, I mean, they’re brothers, right?" She twirled a loose strand of hair.

  "Let's get back to the alley. You said Ralph was fighting with your attacker so you could escape. Did you run out of the alley?"

  "Yes, but not right away. I guess I froze. It was a nightmare. I kept hoping I'd wake up."

  "What happened next?" I asked.

  "Well, the man—I mean, Bob—pulled out a dagger. I guess he had it in his coat or something. He stabbed Ralph. He stabbed him over and over. There was so much blood." Ava shivered.

  "What made him stop?" I asked.

  "He stopped on his own. I guess he realized Ralph was gone."

  "And what were you doing during all of this?"

  "I...I ran."

  "Did Ralph's attacker say anything?" Genevieve asked.

  Ava picked at her manicured nails. “Say anything? No, why would he?"

  "Why wouldn't he? If you’re murdering somebody, you might say why you feel the need to kill them."

  "I don't recall Bob saying anything. It really surprised me. It was a real Able and Cain thing. I guess Bob was jealous of Ralph's success." Ava fidgeted with her robe’s belt.

  "Did Ralph ever say anything about disagreeing with Bob or anything that would make you think they didn't get along?"

  "No, not really. I mean, he was his brother. Bob worked for Ralph. I guess he wanted to take care of his brother, to make sure he was all right. It didn't do him much good. I guess that’s what you get these days. There’s no such thing as thankful."

  "What did you say Bob said after Ralph was murdered?" I asked. Genevieve shot me a look.

  "He said…well, I don't know. I was trying to get away."

  "You saw the entire murder?" I asked.

  "Yes, it was awful. I can still see it when I close my eyes."

  "And did you say anything to Bob?" Genevieve asked.

  "I think I was hysterical. I could've shouted something at him, but the whole thing was like an out-of-body experience. It confused me."

  "Did you go to Ralph's memorial?" I asked.

  Ava shook her head and wiped away a single tear. "No, it was a private affair, just for the family.”

  "Can you think of anyone who'd want to hurt Ralph?"

  "No, not really. Nobody except Bob. His expression as he was stabbing his own brother was like nothing I'd ever seen. I mean, who just hacks their own brother apart?"

  “Which brother is older?" I asked.

  "Oh, that’s easy: Ralph was younger. He still had a lot of pep in his step, if you know what I mean."

  "And did Bob have pep?"

  Ava laughed. "I didn't test his pep. He was never quite my type." By that, I assumed she'd meant wealthy or having a Greek-god like physique. Ralph and Bob would have the same checkboxes in the looks department, so I was banking on the rich angle.

  "All right—is there anything else that sticks out in your mind? Can you remember any other details?" Genevieve asked.

  "No, it’s just awful. How does someone just carve a person up like that? I mean, it seems so intimate and gruesome."

  I thought of the autopsy photos. "It was gruesome," I agreed.

  "I think that’s enough for now,” Genevieve said. “We may need to ask more questions later." This time I shot her a look. Why was she cutting the interview short? I wanted to call Ava out for her little chat with the murderer.

  "Oh, I'm just glad it's over. Look, next time if you need to ask something, just call. This is too much.” Ava yawned.

  "We’ll see ourselves out." Genevieve stood up and pushed stop on the recorder

  ***

  I held onto the grip over the door as Genevieve drove. "That was interesting.”

  She nodded. "Yeah, Ava's story stinks like last week's garbage.”

  "She changed a few details from the TV interview," I said.

  Genevieve gripped the wheel. “That’s why I wanted to record her. That way I can compare what she said on camera to what she said in private. I have a feeling I’ll be able to find a few more discrepancies when I play everything back."

  I laughed. “One thing is certain: that impressive-looking bruise she had on television sure disappeared in a hurry."

  Genevieve nodded. "I'd be willing to bet most of the bruise was makeup during the interview."

  My mind was going a million miles an hour. One thing was becoming clear: Ava was not likely the innocent victim, although she played the role well on television. As an actress, I wondered how much drama she was using to spin the murder the way she wanted it to seem.

  "So, I’m sure she faked being attacked, but what I'm not sure about is whether she faked it for Ralph's benefit in the moment, or if she faked it after the fact to cover her involvement up."

  "Are you thinking she paid someone for a hit?" Genevieve asked.

  "We'd have to trace the cash to know for sure, but I think what Beck said about the killer rings true for Ava; we’ll find out that the blood's on her hands."

  "Now, the question is how, and can we charge her for it?" Genevieve put her turn signal on and zoomed into another lane.

  I nodded. "Well, I guess we need to report back to the police station and see about getting a warrant to track her expenses."

  "I think we’ll need more than one. I want to see what kind of spender Bob is. His money ties back to his brother's, more than likely, and because he’s the prime suspect, his spending habits should be easier to access."

  "Access, yes, but we may need to bring the pros in on this one.” Asking for upper-level help was a risk I was willing to take if it would clear the case up. “We’re talking about millionaires and billionaires—we may need a forensic accountant to sort this out."

  "I think you're right. I'll put in a call. Maybe the Bureau will let us borrow some manpower. I'd be willing to bet the local department doesn't keep someone with that specialty on staff."

  Genevieve headed for the department. My heart rate sped up for a moment. I didn't want Genevieve to take me off the case because of my little incident in the department store, but the reality was that she'd seen my police work. She knew I took chances, and she'd still brought me on for the case.

  Chapter 14

  Genevieve and I pulled up in front of the police department. I felt energized. The case was coming together. Ava's questionable behavior put her on the suspect list, and I felt confident that her spending habits would keep her there. I couldn’t, however, eliminate Bob from the investigation. Someone had stabbed Ralph Maddox to death, and I was sure Ava hadn't managed that act on her own.

  Genevieve made our introductions at the front desk. A few minutes later, Chief David Morris came out to greet us. “Ah! I see you've brought in the reinforcements.” Chief Morris nodded at me as he shook Genevieve’s hand.

  "Ah, yes. This is Avery Rich. She and I have worked together in the past, and she’ll be consulting on this case."

  "Yes, we’ve met. You’re lucky to have such ambitious help. If I was you I'd offer her a job before I beat you to it."

  "A job?" I asked.

  "Well, we have to close this case first," Genevieve said.

  Three we
eks ago I'd have turned either offer down flat and ran for cover, but something about being back on a case was compelling. For the first time in a year, I felt like I belonged.

  The chief ran his hand through his hair, ruffling it as he considered his response. "I have to say I'm surprised the FBI took an interest in the Maddox case at this point; we have Bob Maddox in custody. The prosecutor thinks it’s a viable case."

  "It probably is, but the money ties crossed state lines and that’s a huge amount of money. We can't let things go to chance."

  "I understand that, but the case against Bob's a slam dunk. He had a motive, he has no alibi, and there’s an eyewitness."

  "Either way, I'd like permission to bring in a forensic accountant to go over the money trails for Ralph, Bob, and Ava. Sometimes, looking at where the money flows can tell more of the story than a witness ever will."

  A crease appeared in David Morris's forehead. "You want to look at Ava's finances? Last time I checked, she was the victim."

  "She plays the role well," I said.

  "What did I miss?"

  "We have an eyewitness who can testify that she spoke to the killer after the murder and that the killer said the blood was on her hands."

  "Blood on her hands? Oh, man. Is that all?"

  "Not exactly," I said. "We interviewed Ava Lenore today at her home. We dropped in nice and early so she wouldn't have time to see her makeup artist, and that nasty bruise was gone."

  Genevieve nodded. "There were inconstancies in her story. We recorded the interview, and I want to go over it to document any trouble areas."

  “I'd like to know what you find,” the chief said.

  "I’ll share everything when I go over it with you. This is still your case. I’m just here to make sure it doesn't cause an undue burden or exceed what the department can do in-house."

  "I sure appreciate it. As for the forensic accountant: be my guest. If you have the manpower, send it our direction."

  "I'd be glad to." Genevieve smiled at the chief.

  Chief Morris smirked. "Boy, I wish I could've seen her face when you showed up at her door at the crack of dawn."