Just Cause

by Carolyn Arnold

  She rang the doorbell.

  “Stiles PD!” she yelled. She gave it two seconds before ringing the bell again and looking through the sidelights. She saw nothing. “Stiles PD! Is anyone in there? Mr. Douglas?”

  Madison glanced at Terry. “It’s too quiet. A man like Douglas would have help. Where are they? I think we should enter.”

  Terry gave a slow nod and that was enough for her.

  “Just give me a sec.”

  “Okay.” He dragged out the word.

  She pulled out her cell and dialed Sergeant Winston.

  “Detective Knight?” He sounded shocked to hear her voice.

  She filled him in on where they were, and how things got to this point. After all, communication was one of his stipulations.

  “Go ahead. If you feel that Douglas is in danger, call in backup and enter.”

  She clicked off. She mocked the irony that for a man who made his living from behind a desk, he was telling her how to handle her job in the field.

  She thought on the sergeant’s words, if you feel Douglas is in danger…

  She didn’t think he was in danger—anymore.

  THE FRONT DOOR OPENED TO a grand foyer with a wide staircase leading to the second floor and a grandiose chandelier hanging overhead.

  “Stiles PD,” she yelled out as she drew her weapon. Terry did the same.

  They headed to the right and made their way around the first floor. After clearing it, they headed up.

  The master suite was the size of a luxury hotel room. It even had a large light fixture to mimic the entry.

  “This guy lives like a king,” Terry said.

  “Guess that’s what blood money buys.”

  Terry gave her a look. He must have felt she was drawing conclusions based on a stereotype again.

  “Hey, I dated one. Remember? I should—”

  She could tell by the widening of his eyes, Terry heard it too. There was water running in the ensuite. Her instinct had her barging ahead, but Terry pulled back on her arm.

  She slowed her stride. “Stiles PD. We’re coming in.”

  He went in ahead of her and, not long after, he was holstering his gun.

  She couldn’t see past him. “What is—”

  Terry opened the door all the way and moved to the side.

  The sink was running, but it didn’t have her attention. The woman on the floor did. She wore a black-and-white maid’s uniform, and near her feet was a cleaning caddy, with chemicals and brushes fit into all its sections.

  Her head was at an unnatural angle and braced against the toilet, her chin touching her chest. It wasn’t a fall that killed her, though. There was a bullet hole in the middle of her forehead. Blood had seeped down from it and marred her face.

  “Looks like we found the maid.” Terry gloved up and reached over to turn off the sink.

  Madison fought the urge to cover her mouth and turn away. The blood was pungent.

  The woman appeared to be in her mid-thirties—the same age range as Madison.

  Then came the guilt.

  “We should have gotten here sooner.” The words left Madison’s lips and she experienced the familiar sorrow she always did at a crime scene.

  Her heart ached for people who had lost their voice as victims, not of unfortunate events, but of manufactured ones. These situations made her despise the human race for the cruelty that they were capable of dealing one another.

  Madison studied the room. There was a double-sink vanity with a built-in makeup table that had a small cosmetic bag and a powder brush beside it. A wing-back chair was in front of the table. The set-up stood out because Douglas wasn’t married.

  Marble paved the floor and the surround of the Jacuzzi tub, which was big enough for four. On the far side of the tub, burned candles were in a large sconce.

  Was Douglas romancing someone?

  Terry gestured to the candles and the makeup table. He must have made the same observations she had.

  “We’ve got to find Douglas’s woman, Terry. I’ll call in Crime—” Madison pointed out the picture window that overlooked the backyard, and Terry followed to where she indicated an outdoor hot tub. “Looks like I just found Douglas.”

  -

  Chapter 39

  MADISON COULDN’T GET TO THE backyard fast enough.

  She heard Terry’s footfalls hit the steps behind her. He caught up and edged past her. He had his gun drawn and ready.

  “I don’t think you’re going to need that for Douglas.”

  “I’m not taking chances with our lives, Maddy.” He gestured for her to hold back and he went ahead into the backyard.

  The hot tub was sunken into the deck and it was obviously used year round.

  Douglas sat inside, wearing bathing trunks, perched against the edge of the tub, his hands dangling down into the water. His head slouched forward to his chest. There was no sign of a bullet hole and clear water bubbled from the jets.

  Terry rushed toward him and, still gloved, took his pulse. He shook his head.

  “So, he shoots the maid and finds Douglas here and kills him another way? Who is this guy?” Madison asked.

  “Well, whatever the reason, the lawyer’s in hot water now.”

  She raised her brows at his silly humor. “Seriously?”

  He grinned and called in Crime Scene and Cole Richards.

  MADISON WATCHED RICHARDS AND HIS assistant take Douglas out of the water. While the cause of death was apparent with the maid—Sonia Pike—it wasn’t so apparent with the lawyer. Douglas must have just been soaking before going into the office when the killer came up behind him.

  Richards worked over the body in the meticulous fashion Madison knew defined the man. Despite recent run-ins with him, she still had faith in his abilities. “His neck was broken.”

  “So he didn’t drow—”

  “Thank you, Milo,” Richards interrupted her, “I will join you upstairs shortly.” His assistant sauntered off without a look in her direction, making her feel that he shared Richards’s underlying animosity toward her.

  She hated that her prying into his past, paired with a recently reopened case, had driven a wedge between them. Not too long ago, they had been good friends and allies. Now, that seemed like another lifetime ago.

  Richards looked to Madison. “I will confirm the exact cause of death, but breaking his neck would be pointless if he’d held him under first. You know I don’t like to speculate.” His voice softened along with his eyes.

  That flicker took her to the past when they had a level of camaraderie. A time when they would joke around and she was somewhat attracted to him—at least, to his bright white teeth that stood in contrast to his dark skin.

  “We’ll wrap him up, take him back to the lab, and run the full autopsy. I’d place time of death for both victims between seven to nine hours ago.”

  Madison watched him zip the body of Emanuel Douglas into a black cocoon and take him away on a stretcher.

  She turned to Terry. “He’s cleaning house.”

  “You believe Dimitre is behind all of this?”

  “No doubt in my mind. Dimitre figured we’d hunt Douglas down and make him talk. That means he thinks Douglas had something on him.”

  “Oh, there’s that look in your eyes.”

  She didn’t respond but trudged into the house and up to the second floor. They never made it back up here after finding Douglas. Her suspicions were confirmed when they entered the office.

  Papers were strewn all over the floor. The closet doors were open and appeared as if they had vomited their contents into the room.

  “Our killer was looking for something,” Terry summarized.

  “That’s what got Emanuel Douglas murdered. He did have something on them. We have to find Douglas’s girlfriend
. If our killer didn’t find what they came for, they’ll go after her.”

  “How do we know that they didn’t get what they came for?”

  “You’re just going to have to trust my gut.”

  “Your gut?” Terry laughed, but it came to an abrupt end when she glared at him.

  “Think of it this way, you have important information you don’t want anyone to get their hands on, where would you put it?”

  “Somewhere people would least expect to find it.”

  “That’s right, and in this case it’s the woman that goes with the makeup table.” She looked at the clock on her phone. “And we have just enough time to get back to the law firm to see if our nice receptionist can point us in the right direction.”

  -

  Chapter 40

  THEY MADE IT TO THE law firm just in time. While the doors had been closed, employees were still leaving the property.

  The receptionist was walking toward her car, her hand extended with the key fob. “I’m sorry, but I can’t be giving you that information.” Her bright smile from earlier was gone.

  Madison knew that next of kin hadn’t been located, and she shouldn’t be telling this woman about Douglas’s murder, but there was potentially another life at stake.

  “Something has happened to your boss.”

  The woman lowered her arm. “What do you mean?” She opened the door and threw her purse over to the passenger seat.

  Madison glanced at Terry. To prevent another murder, they had to break protocol. He must have read her mind because he spoke.

  “Emanuel Douglas has been murdered.”

  “What?” She leaned against the back door. “How? When? Oh my—” Her hand covered her mouth. She looked at them, her eyes wide but dry. She was in definite shock.

  “I’m sorry, but we can’t answer all those questions right now,” Madison said.

  She pushed off the car and crossed her arms. “I’m not sure who would have wanted to kill him. Was it that Russian guy who kept calling for him? Emanuel was a good man. He always let me have time off when I asked. He gave out good bonuses at Christmastime, he—”

  “I know this must be hard for you to accept.” Madison did her best to convey sincerity—she did feel for her—but the urgency of the situation trumped delicacy. “We need to know if he had a girlfriend.”

  She nodded. Tears were beaded in the corners of her eyes now, the initial shock having left.

  “Do you know where we could find her?” Madison asked.

  “Yeah. Sorry, this is just—” She blinked away the tears, a few fell. “Her name is Lillian Norton. She’s a really nice lady. I don’t know her address right off, but I have it in the office. Emanuel sent her flowers for her birthday last month. Well, he had me send them to her.”

  “Can we please get that information?”

  She palmed her damp cheeks. “Of course.”

  LILLIAN NORTON LIVED IN THE north end of the city, a more affluent area. Her address took them to a red-brick home. The windows were large and framed with white shutters that were for an accented touch, not for usability.

  The doorbell chimed a popular tune and seemed to bounce around a vast interior.

  The door opened to a handsome woman in her early fifties. Her eyes were warm and sincere, a pale green, but they held the spark of life.

  “Can I help you?” She held one hand braced on the door, but it wasn’t rigid, and her energy communicated openness.

  “Lillian Norton?”

  “Yes.”

  “We’re detectives with Stiles PD. Can we come in for a moment?”

  Norton led them into a sitting area that held two sofas, a loveseat, and two chairs. There was also an oak coffee table in the center of the arrangement and a couple of matching end tables. Artwork lined the walls. Madison wasn’t educated in the art world but swore she recognized some as priceless masterpieces.

  Norton sat on one of the chairs. Madison and Terry each took an end of the couch. Norton looked between them, and Madison passed a glance to Terry. They had discussed this on the way over. It was his turn to provide notification and, with all Madison had recently been through, she was thankful for the reprieve.

  Terry cleared his throat. “We understand you are a close friend of Emanuel Douglas.”

  She bit her bottom lip, letting her teeth indent before slipping it through. Her eyes watered.

  She must have good intuition.

  “We have bad news. Mr. Douglas was found murdered at his home this afternoon.”

  “What? No. No, it can’t be. That’s why I couldn’t reach him.” Norton’s facial features fractured, giving way to tears and a look of puzzlement. “Are you sure it’s him?” A heaving sob racked her body. Norton covered her wailing mouth and rocked back and forth. “I guess you said you found him at home. Oh, I just saw him...”

  “You were close,” Madison stated the rhetorical.

  “We were—” She pulled her hands down from her face and placed them, palms down, over her thighs as if willing away the negative energy. She took a deep breath and looked at Madison. Her cheeks were now stained with tears and a pale hue of red. “I’d like to believe we were married. Oh God, I don’t know what I’m going to do without him.” She flexed her fingers and her eyes drifted to the floor but lifted up quickly. “You said murdered?”

  Terry leaned forward. “Yes. We are looking for the person respons—”

  “I know who did it. He told me he’d be safe, that he took precautions, but these people, these people know everything. They have a way of knowing.”

  “Who, Miss Norton?”

  “The Russian Mafia.”

  Madison fought the urge to glance at Terry. She sensed his focus on her profile.

  “The mafia? Why?” Madison would play stupid with this.

  “He had information on them. They didn’t trust him.”

  “What information?”

  “I’ve been with Manny, that’s what I called him, for seven years. I was with him when he first took over as Dimitre Petrov’s lawyer, and I told him I didn’t like it one bit, but he was a stubborn man. He said he could handle it, that nothing would happen to him. All I could think about was the lawyer before him. They killed him too, didn’t they?” She analyzed Madison’s eyes, but when neither she nor Terry spoke, Norton did. “You’re the detective, aren’t you? You’re the one who was holed up in the Russians’ warehouse earlier this week. You’re also the one from before, the one who investigated that young lawyer’s death. In fact, you’re why that mob boss was on trial in the first place, aren’t you?” Norton shot to her feet. “You are probably why my Manny is dead. Get out! Get out of my house!”

  “Please, Miss Norton, we need your help.”

  “Oh, you need my help? Now that the only man I loved has been taken away from me?” Sobs had Norton doubling over.

  Madison went to her and debated whether or not to touch her. She decided against it. “Please trust me when I say we will find him justice.”

  Norton straightened out and stared at her coolly. “Like you did for that other lawyer?”

  The verbal attack may as well have been physical. It stole the air from Madison’s lungs. She took a few seconds to find the strength to speak. “You said he had things on the Russians?”

  “Yes.”

  “Help us, help you.”

  Norton let out an arrogant laugh. “Help me? Is that really your concern, or is it more to save face for yourself, for your career, for Stiles PD?”

  Madison would ignore her rant. Acknowledging it would only empower Norton and serve no purpose. “What does he have on them?”

  “You mean did, Detective.” Fresh tears streamed down Norton’s face and despite her earlier tone of exasperation, Madison felt the hug was coming before the woman reached out for her.

 
; Madison held Norton until she let go.

  “Thank you.” Norton dragged a hand under her nose.

  Madison nodded and headed back to the couch.

  “Why did Mr. Douglas stop working for them?”

  “Because of me, but I suspect he still helped them out behind the scenes. The mob doesn’t just let you go. You’re in for life.” Norton then excused herself from the room.

  “What are you thinking?” Terry whispered to Madison.

  “I feel for this woman. She lost the man she’s loved for the last seven—”

  “Here it is. All of it. I’m trusting you to bring him justice and hold whoever did this responsible.” Norton extended a stack of folders, full of papers, toward Madison. Norton then grabbed a tissue from a nearby box and sat back on the chair she had been in before. “He kept notes on everything. I don’t know why. Maybe he knew they’d kill him one day.” Sniffling broke up her words. “I refused to ever look at what he had on them. He made me promise not to. I honored his wish. My guess is you found his house in a disheveled mess? Well, they would have been looking for all of this.” She pointed to what Madison now held onto. “I hope it gives you everything you need to nail this bastard.” Norton’s eyes shot up to Madison’s. They harbored not only deep pain but sincere hatred.

  “We will. I promise.” The commitment slipped out of Madison’s mouth without much thought, but it was how she felt. They would find justice for Emanuel Douglas and bring this woman restitution, and, while they were at it, set out to right all wrongs committed by the Russians.

  “Do you have some place you can go?” Madison asked.

  Norton blinked rapidly, tears seeped from her eyes and down her cheeks. “What? Run? No, I’m not going to do that.”

  “These men are dangerous, I don’t have to tell you that. They didn’t find what they were looking for at Douglas’s house,” Madison bobbed her head toward the files in her lap, “they will find out where to come for them. It’s only a matter of time.”