Deadly Impulse

by Carolyn Arnold

  “You were close to Zoe…” Madison prompted, realizing Vicky had only provided her name, not the answer.

  “We are—were… It’s odd to think that she’s dead. She and I were both popular so we talked about business a lot. We worked out together.”

  “Did you meet her boyfriend?” Terry asked.

  “Zoe had a boyfriend? Oh, do you mean that guy who came in here the one night yelling at her?”

  “When did this happen?”

  “Hmm.” Vicky pressed a finger to her lips and then pointed it in the air. “A month ago…give or take.”

  “This guy. Describe him for us,” Madison said.

  “Ah, blond hair, blue eyes, unshaven. He was handsome. A little old for my liking, though. I like ’em before they’re thirty.” She winked at Terry. Ironic, as Terry was in his early thirties.

  “He was also a little on the short side,” she continued.

  The description didn’t match Elias, who had dark hair and was over six feet tall.

  “What did they fight about?” Terry asked.

  “I couldn’t hear all of it. They holed up in the bathroom. Everyone was gathered around the door.”

  “Everyone?” Madison asked.

  “Us girls. Raven, Barbie, and me.”

  And that was everyone?

  Terry tapped on the screen of his phone.

  “Whatcha doing there?” Vicky brushed her hand toward him. “Neither of those girls would have hurt Zoe.”

  Terry disregarded Vicky’s claim and punched something into his phone. They’d need to talk to the other girls and see what they overheard, regardless.

  “You said you couldn’t hear all of it, so you did hear something? What was that?” Madison asked.

  “I heard the words money and pay up. Raven thought she owed him money, Barbie thought maybe he was her pimp. Some of the girls do that outside the club, in their own time. If Mario found out, he’d flip. He’d want first stab.”

  Confirmation yet again that this place was a tar pit.

  “What did you think it was about?” Madison asked.

  “I think he was her boyfriend and he found out that she danced and didn’t like it one bit.”

  “And how does money and pay up fit into that?” Terry asked.

  Vicky itched the bridge of her nose. “Hell if I know. I just don’t think he wanted her working here anymore. It was more or less the feeling I got. Hey, you’re cops, you should know about hunches.”

  Madison disregarded her latter comment. “Do you know if she had issues with any customers?”

  “Nah, the guys loved her. They got a little touchy at times, but it didn’t bother Zoe. She enjoyed the attention.”

  Running with Vicky’s rendition, Zoe’s boyfriend found out about her stripping, didn’t like it, and possibly killed her because of it. What didn’t jibe was the man’s description when compared to Elias. How many lives had Zoe lived, and which one of them had caught up with her?

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  Chapter 36

  BEFORE THEY HAD LEFT THE club, Madison had made a point of talking to the suspicious bartender. It turned out that he just had a bad relationship with cops. His parents had been taken from him when he was young, and he’d been placed in foster care. He had been working at the time of all three murders, and Ken Shelton had confirmed his alibis.

  Madison had dropped Terry home at about eleven thirty. When they’d arrived, the outside porch light was on, and he’d told Madison that it was a promising sign that Annabelle wasn’t too upset with him.

  That had been seven and a half hours ago. Plenty of time to get some shut-eye if one slept solidly for that duration. Instead, Madison tossed and turned, thinking about what Zoe may have done to get herself, her great-aunt, and a seemingly innocent bystander killed. Maybe the vagrant—Charlie, Madison remembered naming him—had tried to protect Zoe and had taken the first blow instead. Still, she was left with the question of why there was so much death and who had the motive to kill all three in the first place.

  Madison was on the couch in her living room, a notepad on her lap, a pen in her hand, a coffee on the side table, and Hershey snoring beside her.

  Without knowing more about Charlie, Madison considered three potential suspects: Kimberly Bell, Elias Bowers, and Jody Marsh.

  What did each stand to gain? What did they stand to lose? What were their means, motive, and opportunity?

  Kimberly Bell had the most to lose. Zoe was her only daughter. Faye was her only aunt. As for gain, a search of Zoe’s house didn’t reveal any life insurance policy, and Faye had left all her money to a children’s foundation.

  The dynamic between Kimberly and Faye would likely have become heated on occasion since the women had diverse opinions on the matter of abortion. When it came to putting Faye’s dead weight into a wheelchair, adrenaline could have given Kimberly the necessary strength.

  As for the relationship between mother and daughter, Madison sensed that they weren’t very close. Kimberly didn’t even know the name of the man Zoe was seeing. Of course, Zoe could have kept her love life private, as she had her work. Kimberly had vaguely summarized that men liked her daughter, but that was an easy assumption to make just by looking at Zoe.

  Kimberly was a volunteer at the soup kitchen, but Zoe’s time of death was placed between midnight and two in the morning. It was unlikely that Kimberly would have been in the area at that time. Not to mention, what would be her true motive to kill her only child?

  Still, Madison would speak with the people at the soup kitchen, whether Sovereign felt as though they were stepping on his toes or not.

  Next.

  Elias Bowers. With Zoe gone, he lost a lover and possible wife. Did he, in fact, know about Zoe’s secret life? Then again, he didn’t match Vicky’s description of the man who had confronted Zoe at the club.

  Madison added the unknown man to the list of suspects.

  Back to Elias. When it came to Faye, he said he had never met the woman, but that may have been a lie. Did Faye stand in the way of Zoe and Elias? If so, why? He was single—so not an adulterer—handsome, and a doctor. Faye would also have respected his career as someone who delivered babies into the world. They would have shared that bond. The motive for him to kill Faye wasn’t a clear one. In fact, the means, motive, and opportunity were all missing. His alibis had cleared him. She drew a line through his name.

  Next on the list was Jody Marsh. She’d seemed genuinely upset that Faye had been murdered. Still, Madison had seen her fair share of killers put on a show for the cops. She had admitted that Faye hadn’t treated her with much respect. Was that enough for her to let Faye die and put her body on display? She had refused to provide her DNA without a warrant. Madison made a note to follow up with Cynthia on the results.

  Zoe had also mentioned Faye’s behavior around Jody, so the two of them must have met, but without more to go on, it was impossible to establish a strong motive for the other two deaths. She hated to admit it, but Terry might be right when it came to her. So far, she was kissing that forty dollars good-bye.

  Hershey yawned and stretched out on the couch beside her. He placed his legs over hers and then rested his head on her lap. She set her notepad on the side table next to her mug and rubbed his head.

  “Who is the killer, buddy?”

  Her eyes traced to the clock. Noon.

  She considered calling Terry, but he had made it clear that he wasn’t interested in working today. There had been no room for misinterpretation.

  Troy still hadn’t called her, and maybe it was best this way. He could go his way and she hers. It was less complicated than having “the talk” and then parting ways, wasn’t it? She tried to convince herself of this, but there was something about obtaining closure. With it came a sense of peace. Without it, things were in turmoil. She questioned her choices, possib
ly even her sanity. He was a good man. And he seemed committed to her. Hadn’t he said that unless she did something truly awful, they would remain a couple?

  In the light of day, the sentiment made her angry. Who was he to make such a statement? It was as if he had assumed all the power in the relationship, leaving her to follow along blindly. Well, she wasn’t blind anymore. In fact, her eyes were wide open. He was the police chief’s brother. How could she just overlook that?

  She had let herself buy into the prospect of having a happy relationship when maybe it just wasn’t meant for her. She had done fine on her own, and she had Hershey for reliability. She didn’t need a man to complete the picture. There was only one solid thing in her life that had trumped everything else—her career. And she wasn’t about to forfeit all she had worked so hard for in exchange for a man.

  That’s it. She couldn’t just sit around all day. She had murders to solve.

  She’d start with finding out more about the man who’d argued with Zoe at Club 69. She’d leave the soup kitchen for tomorrow and visit there with Terry. Today, she’d visit the strippers, Raven and Barbie. Vicky had told her right where to find them, and conveniently for Madison, they lived together.

  “Momma’s gotta go to work, buddy.”

  Momma? Whether she wanted to or not, she was falling into the role of a furbaby momma. What was her world coming to?

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  Chapter 37

  THE SHINGLES WERE CURLED BACK as if they were yawning. The wood siding was in desperate need of a fresh coat of paint, and the roof on the front porch sagged in the middle. The building didn’t appear sound enough to enter, let alone live in.

  Given the amount of money these women likely made, they must have had other priorities. Madison surmised that Raven and Barbie—whose real names were Peggy and Lynda, respectively—must have some expensive habits. Clothes? Alcohol? Drugs?

  Madison knocked on the front door, and a brunette with a bob cut answered within a few seconds. She was wearing short shorts and a fitted tee with the name of the retailer stamped across the front.

  Her eyes were alert and curious. “Can I help you?”

  Madison held up her badge and made the introduction. “I’m looking for Peggy and Lynda.”

  “I’m Peggy, but I’m not sure why you’d want to speak to me.”

  No hesitation. No show of emotion. Vicky hadn’t told her about Zoe.

  “I understand that you were friends with Zoe Bell, known as Eden down at the club. Her body was found yesterday morning,” Madison said.

  Peggy gasped, tears filling her eyes. She stepped back into the townhouse, and Madison followed her inside.

  The home smelled of cat litter and stale beer, and tumbleweeds of cat hair whirled in the front entrance. Madison’s stomach clenched and had her wishing for fresh air again. But returning outside wasn’t an option.

  Peggy leaned against a half wall, her chin to her chest, her gaze on the floor. “What happened exactly?” Peggy asked. “You said you ‘found’ her yesterday. Did someone kill her?”

  Madison ignored the question. “Vicky said that you overheard an altercation take place between Zoe and a man. I’d like to hear the story from your perspective. What took place that night? What did he look like?”

  “An altercation might be exaggerating things a little. They argued. They were yelling in the bathroom.”

  “Had you seen the man before that night?”

  Peggy shook her head. Her gaze had lifted from the floor, but it was distant and unfocused.

  “Can you describe him?”

  “Blond hair. Blue eyes. Handsome.”

  Madison nodded. That description coincided with Vicky’s observations. “Did you notice his height? Was there anything that stood out about his voice? An accent or anything?”

  “Short and not that I noticed.”

  “And how old would you say he—”

  “Peg? Who are you talking to?” A woman with red hair came out from a side hall, wiping her eyes. Her bangs covered half her face.

  “It’s a detective,” Peggy answered. To Madison, she said, “This is Lynda.”

  Lynda ran a flattened hand along the length of her hair and then tucked a bunch of strands behind an ear, clearing her face. Her eyes were at half-mast, and Madison pegged it on exhaustion, not drug use or a hangover.

  “What do you want?” Lynda asked.

  “Zoe is dead, Lynda. I think she was murdered,” Peggy said.

  “What?” Lynda dropped onto the arm of the sofa closest to her.

  “The detective wants to know about that man. You remember him. He came in, and then he and Zoe were yelling at each other in the bathroom.”

  “I think he was her pimp.” Lynda’s words came out nonchalantly, as if every woman had a pimp.

  Madison directed her next comment to Peggy. “Vicky mentioned that you thought she owed him money.”

  Peggy nodded. “Well, it was definitely about money. I’m not sure I buy Zoe prostituting herself, though.”

  “Then you live in a make-believe world, Peg. Zoe was unscrupulous, just like her mother.” Madison’s ears perked at that, and the fog seemed to be lifting from Lynda’s eyes. She scooped her hair in her hand, spun it around, and grabbed a pen from a nearby table. She then stuck the pen into her hair, creating a makeshift chignon.

  “What about Zoe’s mother?” Madison asked.

  “She was a whore. She’d sleep with anyone,” Lynda said.

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “Oh, married, single, whatever, she does ’em. Even women.”

  Madison hadn’t expected that last bit. She still wasn’t sure if, or how, Kimberly’s lifestyle factored into the investigation, but she did want to know more about the man at the club. “Is there anything you can tell me about his looks or something that stood out about him? Peggy mentioned he was blond with blue eyes.”

  “He looked to be in his thirties maybe. I don’t think he had shaved for a few days. He was trim. Short.”

  Still nothing new. “Any lisps or stutters when he spoke? Accents?”

  “No.” Lynda chewed on her lip. “He was really possessive of Zoe, though. She was finished her act and getting ready to leave for the night. She went to head out our door—it’s located backstage—and when she swung it open, the next thing we knew this guy had her by the arm and seemed to be either forcing or coercing her into the bathroom.”

  “Yet none of you thought to get security?” Sweat beaded on Madison’s skin, and along with it a chill zipped through her body. The man could have pushed Zoe into the bathroom to rape her. The memory of Constantine’s hands on her, groping at her…

  “It will only hurt a little bit.” He laughs, and she feels him growing against her. He puts his hands on her lower abdomen.

  She places herself out of body and closes her eyes briefly.

  He sits back and lifts his shirt over his head.

  She had a second, or less, at most. She maneuvers and grabs the gun.

  She swallowed hard and blinked. She opened her eyes to look at Peggy again. Skepticism laced her irises, but if she suspected Madison had left them for a moment, she didn’t say anything about it.

  “I don’t know this for a fact or anything,” Peggy began, “but I think Zoe made a deal with the wrong people and this guy came to collect. I can’t see Zoe selling herself.” She projected a glower toward Lynda.

  Lynda rolled her eyes.

  “So no one from the club guards the back door?” Madison asked. Her heartbeat was coming down. Slowly.

  “Nope. Kind of stupid, I know. We have them covering the entrance to backstage from the club side, but really, any creep could help himself by coming in the back.”

  “Ramone?” Madison remembered that Vicky had called for him when she and Terry were backstage.


  “Yeah,” Lynda said.

  “Did you overhear anything else?” Madison asked both girls.

  Lynda shook her head. “You think the music’s loud when you’re in the crowd, try backstage.”

  Madison recalled the pounding in her chest of the bass. She conceded with a nod.

  “I heard just enough to know it involved money,” Peggy said.

  “And you?” Madison looked at Lynda.

  “Same.”

  Nothing new, but it was confirmation. It also didn’t net a motive. There could be many explanations for arguments involving money besides prostitution. A bet made with the wrong person. A drug dealer collecting on a debt. And the list went on.

  Zoe’s autopsy was scheduled for tomorrow, and Madison was ready for some answers. Richards should be able to tell from a quick examination whether Zoe was a drug addict, so that could narrow down the list, perhaps.

  Madison came back to Lynda’s take on the argument. “You think it’s possible she was prostituting herself?”

  Lynda glanced at Peggy and then answered. “I do.”

  “And why is that?”

  “She had nice clothes, jewelry. She was always showing us new shoes. The girl was obsessed with them. We can make good money stripping at Club 69 but not enough to live that kind of lifestyle. I mean, look at where we live”—Lynda opened her arms to take in the home—“and that’s the two of us pooling money to rent this crap hole.”

  Madison thought back to Zoe’s house, how tidy the yard was, how sound the structure. Zoe was getting money from somewhere else. It could have been the man who had confronted her at the club, and that same man could have been her killer.

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  Chapter 38

  ANSWERS. THAT WAS ALL SHE needed, and it seemed like it was too much to ask for. Her sleep was fitful. She saw almost every hour on the clock, but more than the case weighed on her thoughts. Troy did, too. He still hadn’t contacted her since she’d stormed from the gala Saturday night. Maybe she should have expected that. Eventually everyone let you down, given enough time. She recognized the cynicism, but it was there for good reason. Life had taught her this lesson repeatedly.