Deadly Impulse

by Carolyn Arnold

  “I see your point.”

  “We’ll have Cynthia check his phone records,” Madison said.

  “You seem to be forgetting that we released him.”

  “Yes, because we have no concrete evidence against him.”

  “How do you suppose we access his phone records, then? Without a warrant?”

  She didn’t need to answer because some exceptions were necessary. “This case isn’t closed until the killer is behind bars, Terry. I’m not going to back down over a technicality.”

  “A technicality? That’s what you call a warrant? Since when?” He gave a derisive laugh.

  She shook her head as she pulled out her phone and dialed Cynthia. A few seconds later, the request had been made, and she hung up. “Cynthia said she’d get on it. It might take awhile.”

  “Okay. Now what?”

  Madison’s phone rang. She looked at Terry and held the phone up between them with the screen facing her. It was an unknown number. “Let’s find out who this is first, shall we?” She accepted the call. “Knight,” she answered.

  The voice that responded was the last one she had expected. Andrea Fletcher, as in Chief Fletcher.

  She spun her back to Terry, longing for more privacy than that would afford. She held up a finger to Terry and headed off to the women’s bathroom. He wouldn’t be able to follow her in there.

  “I’d like to meet for coffee…” Fletcher kept talking, but only a few words were making it through. Madison’s mind was still processing why the chief was calling her.

  “How about tonight?” Fletcher continued. “Say six?”

  Madison flung open the bathroom door and slunk into the corner stall.

  “Detective Knight?” The raised pitch of the chief’s question told Madison she’d missed responding to something.

  “Sorry, Chief, I’m—”

  “Andrea, please.”

  Heat bloomed in her earlobes. Had Troy sent his sister to smooth things over between them?

  “I’m not sure that I can make it,” Madison said. It was the truth. She was involved with murder investigations that were on the cusp of being solved. She could feel it.

  “We could make it another day.” There was disappointment in Fletcher’s voice.

  Was Madison actually considering the chief’s invitation? She took a deep breath. “Okay. I’ll meet you for coffee. What time?”

  “Six at the Starbucks on Main?”

  “Sure.”

  “Great. I’ll see you then, Madison.”

  Madison hung up, realizing how the tone of the call had changed from the start to the end. She went from being addressed as Detective Knight to her first name. Was that a good thing or bad thing?

  When she had first found out that a woman was taking over for McAlexandar, she had been thrilled. A female was finally taking the lead in a town where men had held the reins for so long. The memory struck. During her commencement speech, Fletcher had sought her out in the crowd and made a point of smiling at her. Was it out of respect for Madison’s reputation or because Fletcher knew about Troy’s feelings for her?

  Suddenly she knew she had to let Troy go, even if it hurt so badly it stole her breath. She’d be a fool to think she’d stand on her own merit, otherwise, and her career wasn’t something she was willing to give up. She had to make the call and sever the tie. But it would have to wait. She had a killer to find.

  -

  Chapter 53

  BEN HAD BEEN RELEASED, but Cynthia’s suggestions haunted Madison: he could have worn gloves or his prints could have been smudged. With that in mind, going back to Club 69 seemed like the next logical step. For one, Madison could show Ben Dixon’s face to the strippers to see if they recognized him, and two, Madison wanted to hear more of their thoughts on Zoe’s mother.

  Club 69 was open when she and Terry arrived, and Mario scowled at her the second they entered.

  He stood there looking at them, his hands clasped in front of him, standing tall, his shoulders back. “What are you doing here? I’ve been cooperative. My girls have been cooperative.”

  It was two o’clock in the afternoon, and a half-naked woman flung herself around the pole. The music had a beat more appropriate for a Saturday night, but the volume was slightly lower. There were about a dozen men spread out around the room, most of them clutching their steins of beer and leering at the woman onstage.

  Madison held her phone in Mario’s face, the screen toward him. It was a photograph of Ben. “Do you recognize him?”

  Mario pushed the cell to the side. “I’d appreciate some respect.”

  “You want respect? You’ll get it when you start talking, because I have a feeling you’re not telling us something.” Madison lowered the phone but angled it so Mario could still see the image. “So…do you recognize him?”

  “Let me see it.” Mario fanned out his fingers, and Madison handed him her phone. He studied the image. “He looks kind of familiar. Don’t ask why. A lot of men come through here.”

  “Do you have somewhere we could talk in private?” Madison asked.

  Mario smiled. “Sure do, but we don’t need to talk.” He winked at her.

  “Oh, we need to talk,” Terry intercepted.

  Something was seriously wrong with this Mario guy. Most of the time he gave her attitude and the next minute he was hitting on her. What was that about?

  “Fine. This way.” Mario led them through some doors to a hallway with black walls. It made Madison think of the song “Paint it Black.”

  Mario knocked on a door to the right, and didn’t wait on a response before tearing into the room as if Madison and Terry weren’t even there.

  Some guy said, “Hey, what do you think you’re doing?”

  “Put the sign up, you stupid bitch,” Mario barked. “She’ll throw in a free lap dance.”

  “Hey, you can’t do that—”

  Mario slammed the door, cutting the girl’s protest short. He slid a card out of a holder to the right of the door and flipped it over. OCCUPIED.

  Two doors down on the left, Mario opened a door and led Madison and Terry inside.

  The room stank of cheap cologne, aftershave, sex, and latex. So much for “outside of the club and on personal time.” She swallowed the bile that rose in her mouth. Didn’t this man have an office?

  Two black—apparently he had an affinity for black—leather sofas were against the wall and butted against each other in an L-shape. Mario sat on one of them, but there was no way Madison would take a seat knowing what went on this room, what was on the surface…

  Terry remained standing, too.

  “All right, we’re someplace private. What is it?” Mario asked, settling in with his arms extended along the top of the sofa.

  Madison trained her eye on him. “I want you to tell us what you’re holding back.” She hadn’t lost that nagging suspicion that he knew far more than he let on.

  Mario scoffed at them, looked at Terry, and then pointed a finger at Madison. “Is she serious?”

  “Always,” Terry answered.

  “First of all, I’m not holding anything back.”

  “So that’s how you’re going to play this? That man’s picture that I showed you… You knew him. It was written all over your face.”

  Mario’s eyes snapped to Terry. “She does realize I have a business to protect, doesn’t she?”

  Terry shrugged his shoulders.

  “Fine, I know him, but it doesn’t mean any more than that,” Mario said.

  “Did you see the man in the photo ever confront Zoe?” Madison asked.

  “No, but he did ask for a private room. What went on inside was, and is, their business.”

  So Ben had taken advantage of Zoe and then placed the call revealing her secret anyway. What a piece of work. Add that to the fact t
hat Ben was either a regular customer or he’d done something to stand out to Mario.

  “Had you seen Ben before that night?” Madison asked.

  “No.”

  “But you remembered him with all the customers you have? Something must have stood out about him.”

  “I’m not sure why I remember him.”

  “I still think there’s more to it than that,” Madison said.

  “You can think what you like. Now, there was a guy who did raise a fuss one night. And, yes, I played stupid before, but I never saw the guy. I only heard about him after the fact.” Mario tapped the top of the sofa.

  “So this other guy—”

  “I never saw him,” Mario interrupted.

  Madison nodded. “Is there anything else you can tell us? Anyone who stands out in your mind?”

  Mario remained silent as if hesitant to talk.

  “Tell us what you’re thinking. I don’t care how stupid it might sound,” Madison said.

  “Her mother came in here barking at Zoe once. Things got nasty that night, but what was I supposed to do? Kick the woman out?”

  Madison’s heart raced. Kimberly Bell had confronted her daughter at the club? She brought up a picture of Kimberly on her cell phone and held it out for Ben. “Is this the woman?”

  “No.” His brow tightened, and he shook his head.

  “You’re sure?”

  “Yeah, I ain’t never seen her before. This woman was old, and I remember wondering how in the hell she could be Zoe’s mother when she looked old enough to be her grandmother.”

  Grandmother? Adrenaline was coursing through her, making breathing difficult.

  Madison exchanged the photo for one of Della Carpenter. “What about her?”

  Mario never leaned forward to look at Della’s image. “Not her, either.”

  Madison shared another picture.

  He uncrossed his legs and leaned forward, clasping his hands between his legs. “That’s her.” He bobbed his head. “She’s the one who came here.”

  Madison’s legs weakened, and she almost took a seat—almost. She widened her stance and angled the phone so Terry could see the photo of Faye Duncan.

  Back to Mario. “You’re positive that’s who came here?” Madison asked.

  “I swear to God.”

  “And when was this?”

  “A week ago. Last Tuesday.”

  That was the night before Faye was murdered.

  Madison put the phone away. “Why didn’t you just tell us about this the first time we were here?”

  Mario shrugged. “Not really sure. I mean, it was her mother, right? I fight with mine all the time.”

  He must have figured she’d had Zoe later in life, but she found it questionable that he’d accept the age difference. Dismissing that, though, she asked, “So just to be clear, she came here to confront Zoe? Was there any physical contact? Yelling?”

  “Raised voices, for sure. I don’t think they got physical.”

  “Then what happened? Did they leave together?” Terry asked.

  Mario shook his head. “Nope. The woman left. Zoe’s act was up next.”

  How did Faye Duncan find out that Zoe worked at Club 69? And it was plausible that if Faye knew about the club, she knew about the baby, just as Ben had implied. Did Zoe kill Faye? And, if so, how did Zoe end up a victim, too?

  -

  Chapter 54

  THEY SPOKE TO LYNDA AND Vicky before exiting the club. They both said they didn’t think Ben was the man fighting with Zoe that night. That news sank in Madison’s gut, but she still wasn’t releasing her suspicions about him. It just meant there was another man out there who had been angry with Zoe.

  “We need to visit Della Carpenter and find out if there’s something she’s not telling us, too,” Madison said as she walked around to the driver’s-side door. “Seems to be a trend here.”

  “Mario said she wasn’t the one to confront Zoe.” Terry got into the passenger seat and pulled his belt across.

  “But why didn’t she mention that Zoe and Faye had a falling out?”

  “Maybe she didn’t know?”

  “I’m not so sure about that. We know the two sisters were close. Do you really believe that Faye didn’t mention the club and Zoe’s ‘career choice’ to Della?”

  “Even if she had, Della might not have thought it tied into their murders,” Terry said.

  “I’m not sure I buy that, but either way, Faye Duncan came to the club, so maybe she knew something we don’t.”

  Faye Duncan hadn’t been the typical sixty-something, especially if she confronted Zoe at Club 69 and not at home in private.

  Then it struck her again and nausea seized her gut.

  “Faye was making tea just before she died. And she went to the club the day before she died.” She turned to face Terry in the passenger seat. “What if she was making it for Zoe? She could have visited her great-aunt the next day to make peace and—”

  “You think that—”

  Madison nodded. “Zoe could have killed her aunt.”

  “Okay, but it leaves a lot of unanswered questions. Why? Just because Faye wasn’t happy with her lifestyle? If that were motive for murder, more people would be killed by their family members.” Terry laughed. “Right?”

  “Terry, people have killed for less. I’m just not sure how this all fits together. Cynthia had sent me a message and Zoe’s prints didn’t match the ones left on the wheelchair. It seems like every path we go down, we hit a fork.”

  “The important part is that we keep going.”

  Terry was just as cynical as she could be at times, maybe even more so. Being optimistic wasn’t like him at all.

  “Are you feeling all right?” she asked.

  “Yeah. Why?”

  She smiled. “Because you’re giving me a pep talk.”

  “True. And I’m not sure why because if this case is closed by tonight, I’m out eighty dollars. I should be pulling you down.” His eyes sparkled with mischief.

  She shook her head and pulled out of the club’s parking lot, merging into traffic as she headed back to the department. “Let’s say Zoe killed Faye. Then who killed Zoe? We still don’t know why she’d be in that alley.”

  “We know her mother volunteered there.”

  “We’ve gone over that. And she wasn’t there the night of Zoe’s murder. Maybe we’re thinking too narrow-mindedly.” She pulled the car over to the right and turned on the hazard lights.

  A van swerved out from behind her, the driver shaking his fist at her.

  They were in a department car. Not that it seemed to matter.

  Terry’s gaze followed the van until it cut in front of them. Surprisingly, he didn’t say anything.

  “Zoe could have run into the alley to hide from someone,” Madison said.

  “So her killer pursued her and she sought refuge in a dark alley?” He laughed. “I’m sorry, but if that’s what happened, had she never seen a horror movie?”

  She glared at him. “It’s still a possibility.” Madison’s eyes widened. “Wait a minute… Zoe might not have counted on the homeless guy being there. Maybe that woman saw something that can help our case. We have to go speak to her.”

  “The one who did that”—he pointed to her cheek—“to your face?”

  “That would be the one.”

  THE WOMAN WAS SITTING ON a bench at the back of a holding cell, whistling. They were still after her full name. Until that could be found out, they couldn’t file the charges.

  She stopped the whistling. “You!” Her eyes scanned Madison’s face. “I see you.”

  Madison took a deep breath. She’d had run-ins with crazies before, but this loony tune was overflowing with nuttiness.

  The woman rushed to the bars, pressing her n
ose between two of them, and then she reached out for Madison.

  Madison took a step back. There was no way she was going to give this woman another chance to draw blood.

  “I need you to be quiet and listen,” Madison said.

  Her eyes were burning coals. “You.”

  Certifiable whack job.

  “I need to know what you saw in the alley a couple nights ago,” Madison said.

  “You,” she hissed.

  Maybe this was a waste of time.

  “I wasn’t in the alley the other night”—she held up a printed photo of Zoe Bell—“but she was.”

  “Her.” She smacked her lips together a few times in a row. “She was running and screaming. She trespassed.”

  Madison flicked a glance at Terry.

  “She was trespassing?” Madison asked, seeking clarification.

  “Yes. Then I see…” Her eyes glazed over.

  Madison’s heart sped up. Had she discounted this woman prematurely?

  The woman remained dazed and silent. Madison jostled the photograph, and the woman’s head followed the movement, up, down, up, down.

  “She was running away from someone?” Madison tried again.

  The woman’s eyes fixed on Zoe’s face. She nodded.

  “Did you see who was following her?” Madison asked.

  “I see you!”

  “Yes, you see me. I see you, too. Did you see who was chasing the girl?”

  The woman stepped back and rolled her eyes. “You don’t understand.”

  “Then enlighten me.”

  “I had a vision. Of you…”

  Oh God. This woman wasn’t just crazy. Apparently, she was psychic, too.

  Madison spun around, putting her back to the cell. This was a waste of time. How could she expect to get anywhere with this woman?

  “So you saw the young woman in the picture?” Terry asked, taking over.

  Madison couldn’t bring herself to turn back toward the woman.

  “Yes. And I saw her!”