Found Innocent

by Carolyn Arnold

Madison focused on the television and the ottoman. Plain sight.

  “I will contact you as soon as I find out anything.”

  “Do you promise?”

  Madison heard a clicking noise from Vilma’s receiver and pictured her wiping her face with her hand, her ring hitting the phone.

  “Yes, I promise.” Madison didn’t wait for a response but hung up instead. Everyone else was right about the woman. She was in denial and a tad—maybe even more than a tad—crazy. For less than a second, Madison reprimanded herself for making a promise to the woman again, but as her eyes settled on the ottoman, her guilt lifted as fog in the sunshine.

  The ottoman was hinged. She put on a pair of gloves and worked at clearing the top of it, transferring the gaming accessories to the couch. She lifted the ottoman open.

  The inside was full of clutter, delivery menus, more game cases, batteries, music CDs, and a few DVDs. She moved the items around cautiously until she found what she was after.

  “Terry, you can stop looking.” She lifted the gun and checked to ensure the safety was on and then looked to see if it was loaded.

  Terry walked into the room.

  “And there are even a couple bullets in it. We’ll have Cynthia’s team run ballistics testing on the gun. Maybe they’ll be able to connect it to the one that killed Lacy.”

  -

  Chapter 22

  MADISON DROPPED THE BAGGED GUN on the table. “Does this look familiar to you?”

  Bates leaned back into the chair and stretched his legs out.

  “We found this in your apartment,” she continued.

  “Doesn’t prove I did anything.”

  “What it does prove is you had access to the murder weapon.” Madison knew she stretched the truth—the tests still needed to be run and the facts confirmed. She paced around him. “I can tell the way you’re sitting there, you’re not surprised we found it and you’re not surprised that it was used in the murder of Lacy Rose—”

  “I don’t know nothin’ about that.”

  Madison continued walking around the table. “We believe you do.”

  “You said she killed herself.”

  “That is still being confirmed. We know she didn’t bury herself.”

  Bates’s eyes flickered from Madison to Terry, to the clock on the wall. For about thirty seconds, the ticking echoed in the silence of the room.

  “The tests will come back on the gun. Will they find your prints on it, Bates? I’m not really a betting woman” she shot a glance at Terry then smiled at the line, “but I believe I’d win in this case.” Madison stopped beside Bates and angled over to look into his face. “You were there when she was shot.”

  Bates’s eyes filled with tears, and he shook his head; it was almost in slow motion.

  “Did Hennessey make her pull the trigger?”

  “I dunno…I dunno.” Bates sucked in on his bottom lip, a mannerism Madison recognized as his trademark. His eyes focused on nothing.

  Madison stretched her neck side to side. “You said she had an older boyfriend named Andy. Are you certain that was his name?” She walked around the table and sat across from him.

  She let the clock sound off the seconds in the room. It was shy of a minute before Bates spoke.

  “It’s Peter. Can I go now?”

  “No,” Madison said as she opened the door.

  Bates’s head dropped as an officer came in, put him in cuffs, and escorted him to holding.

  MADISON’S MOUTH CURVED UPWARD INTO a full smile; she pointed a finger at Terry. “I knew it. There’s no way that guy would set her up with healthcare and a condo and not expect anything in return.”

  “You’re assuming the Peter he mentioned is the Peter we—”

  “Hargrove. Let’s make a bet.”

  Terry jacked a thumb toward the room. “You said in there you’re not a gambler.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “Here’s the wager.”

  “I’m listening.” Terry’s eyes sparkled with mischievousness.

  “I say that this Hargrove guy figures into all this.”

  “More specifically.”

  “Maybe he paid Hennessey to get rid of her.”

  “Why?”

  “Lacy and Peter were sleeping together and she threatened to take it to his wife. Peter approached Hennessey, maybe paid him to take care of her. But then you have Bates who loved her from a supposed distance.” She wrapped finger quotes around the word supposed.

  “You say supposed?”

  “Until we can prove the two got together.”

  Terry smiled. “You’re waiting for the verbal confession?”

  Madison narrowed her eyes, jabbed his shoulder and smiled. “I’m not convinced Bates never hooked up with her. So, supposing Hargrove had Hennessey and Bates kill Lacy, maybe they couldn’t do it and that’s why they made her pull the trigger on herself? Or maybe they staged the suicide?”

  “Complicated.”

  “Very, but when is a case ever straightforward? Lacy must have been high, or threatened somehow, to make her go through with it. But why respond to threats when either alternative results in death?” She widened her eyes to drive home the point. “She had defensive wounds, so she fought back at first, but then stopped and took her life? It doesn’t make sense.”

  “Maybe, because of her lifestyle and past, she didn’t figure hers was one worth fighting for. Maybe whoever it was that made her pull the trigger laid out all her past sins, to the point she broke,” Terry countered.

  “Maybe she wanted control over how she exited this world, feeling as if she’d had none while alive. Or, it’s just as likely, someone wanted us to think this way. One thing that stuck out to me was the inconsistency with Hargrove.”

  “Inconsistency?”

  “Well, he led us to believe he met Lacy a few weeks ago. I made a call to the Luxor apartment building and was told that Hargrove purchased the unit two months ago.”

  “Interesting.” Terry took his jacket off the back of his chair.

  “Where are you going?”

  “Home.”

  “Home? You just got here and we need to talk to Hargrove.”

  “I was only a couple hours late this morning and it’s after six now.”

  “Seriously?” This was her partner, always trying to get on with his personal life.

  He slipped his coat on. “We can go talk to Hargrove in the morning.”

  She held eye contact with him. “You want to push off talking to a murder suspect?”

  “He’s probably eating dinner right now.”

  “So we’d get him at home.” She cocked her head to the side. The man’s dinner wasn’t her concern. She could tell by the expression on her partner’s face, he was set to leave.

  “First thing in the morning.” Terry pulled his keys from a pocket. “The terms of the bet…you say Hargrove’s involved somehow.”

  “He paid the kids to make it happen.”

  “I say he had nothing to do with it.”

  She was fuming. How could he leave at a time like this?

  Terry extended his hand to shake on their deal. “Easiest twenty I’ve ever made.”

  Her partner walked away, and she dropped into her chair. Her thoughts were intermingled and shot off in different directions. It seemed obvious that Bates covered for Hennessey, and, despite his affection for Lacy, wasn’t willing to hand him over. The question that needed an answer was why.

  Maybe she should look to Bates. He knew about Lacy’s older man too. Jealousy could have pushed him, despite his protests their relationship was simply platonic. After all, the gun was found in his apartment, and Madison had no doubts it would tie back to the casing found in the bedroom.

  The thought of the gun brought her back to the phone call from Vilma and the promise s
he had made to the woman again. She typed the name Kevin Thorne into her computer. Richards’s autopsy report filled the screen.

  The gist was Thorne had slit both his wrists on the vertical and died due to blood loss.

  She continued reading the report. Toxicology showed twice the legal alcohol limit in his system, plus a cocktail of drugs.

  Richards had made a note beside this that no other tests proved that Thorne was a drug addict. In fact, results revealed no proof that Thorne had ever previously touched drugs.

  Madison picked up the phone and dialed down to Richards, who answered on the third ring. “Do you remember Kevin Thorne?”

  “Yes, I do. He killed himself. Exsanguination, I believe.”

  “I’m reading your re—”

  “Then I’m not sure why you’re—”

  “There are some contradictory findings.” The line went silent and she knew she had offended her colleague. “I didn’t mean—”

  “What do you think you found?”

  She took a deep breath, longing for the time when she and Richards were close. She had crossed a line, and it seemed like she’d never get back into a good standing with the man. She had been motivated by a caring curiosity into his background, but she realized the error of her way. Richards was her colleague and friend. She should have gone to him if she had questions about his past, not the records.

  “The report says he cut both wrists,” she said.

  “Suicide victims are motivated by self-hate, hence the infliction of pain. He didn’t want to fail.”

  “Most also have a record of past attempts. Did he?”

  “Not that was visible on his body, nothing noted in his health records. Family and friends were certain he never attempted in the past.”

  “That didn’t stand out to you?” She asked the question and instantly wished she could reel it back. “What I mean is you concluded his death the result of suicide, but I’m seeing question marks.”

  “Detective Knight.”

  Him calling her by her official title and surname confirmed the fact the wound in their relationship had yet to scab over.

  “I take all facts into consideration. Mr. Thorne lost his job and his fiancée was expecting a baby.”

  Madison thought back to Vilma, surprised she hadn’t mentioned this. If Vilma was pregnant, she wasn’t far along. Madison pictured her, thinking of what she had worn. It was a large sweater, and Madison remembered her heaving bosom.

  Richards continued. “He had alcohol in his system, and drugs. This was unusual for him, as you likely have noted from the report, but it doesn’t mean he didn’t take drugs to help him take his life. There was no evidence to indicate that he died of any other means besides self-infliction.”

  “There was no trace evidence or fibers found that linked to another person?”

  “He killed himself in a motel room. Of course, foreign DNA contributors were found. You can find this in the investigative report. You would have to see the lead detective on the case.” He stopped speaking for a few minutes. “Why are you asking me all this anyhow? The case was closed.”

  “I made a promise to his fiancée.”

  She heard Richards exhale on the other end.

  “It’s not that I don’t trust you. You know I have the utmost respect—” She was going to finish by saying, for you. But it would leave way for the contradictory thought to arise, respect for him, yet not for his privacy. “I know you would have considered all the facts.”

  She scrolled down the screen looking for the investigating detective. When the cause of death was unknown, it was approached suspiciously until it was ruled. She almost swore aloud when she saw the name.

  “I really don’t think you’re going to find anything contrary to my conclusion,” he said.

  “Thanks, Richards.”

  “Of course.”

  He hung up and she was left staring at the name on her screen. Toby Sovereign.

  -

  Chapter 23

  CERTAIN ASPECTS OF LIFE REALLY translated to unfair. For one, falling in love with a fellow student in the academy, to the point she had let her guard down and had accepted a marriage proposal.

  Stupid.

  It made her think of a man they had in their interrogation room not long ago. He had said love was for the weak.

  She had made that mistake once, and almost had a repeat occurrence more recently, but she saw the clearing before she committed—thank God. Either way, to think that not only had the first man broken her heart, but he had taken away her ability to fully love again. She refused to be the one who got hurt. She would end things in any relationship before they got serious and started to hold power over her.

  She left the station after seeing his name on the screen. She had made a promise to a woman, and now it would put her in direct company with Sovereign. Not that she would let that stop her from getting the truth, but she wasn’t in the mood to deal with it now.

  For one, she was starving. This new thing of watching what she was eating and striving to be more active didn’t entirely suit her. She was used to driving through a fast food joint or ordering in a pizza. Those dinners were convenient, and with her working all hours, it suited a purpose.

  The clock on the car dash read 7:20 PM.

  Her stomach tightened and rumbled. The last thing she ate was a Hershey’s bar, which she had snuck in mid-afternoon when Terry wasn’t around.

  Apparently, one needed more than chocolate to satisfy their appetite. She thought of where she could grab something quick that would also be healthy and went through a McDonald’s drive-thru. They had salads, not that she ever had one of theirs, but maybe it would be a good time to try it.

  She put the window down to place the order and the wafting smell of greasy food tempted her. For seconds, she had an internal struggle. She pictured herself stuffing fries into her mouth in rapid succession. But when the teenager operating the drive-thru came over the speaker, Madison took a deep inhale and ordered a salad.

  There better be a lot of protein in this thing, she thought.

  Struggling to balance the plastic container, and avoid a spill of lettuce on the interior of her car, she drove slower than normal. She had one more stop she wanted to make before heading home.

  CANINE COUNTRY RETREAT BOARDING WAS located on the outskirts of the city, on a country road. A farm house was next to it, and another house sat right on the property and belonged to the owners of the kennel. The gravel crunched beneath her tires as she drove in.

  Madison had dropped Hershey off there in the morning, knowing she might keep him there for a few days while working on the case, but she missed him and figured she could drop him off again tomorrow.

  The door chimed as she opened it. A lady in her early twenties was smiling at her from behind the counter.

  “Miss him?”

  “Yeah, I guess I did.” Madison returned the woman’s smile.

  “Well, he’s doing great.” She picked up a walkie-talkie and spoke into it. “Please bring up Hershey, kennel number three-B.”

  Madison tapped the counter and looked at the girl, passing minutes in awkward silence. This was new to her, all of it. The uncomfortable feeling associated with this and the caring for a canine companion. It wasn’t something she had envisioned for her life, but it was starting to come together. At least Terry kept assuring her it would.

  The boarding during the day had been his idea too, and he and Annabelle were paying for half of it—for the first six months anyhow. She had decided to only bring him here when a case took over her life.

  Terry said that it was advantageous to get Hershey used to being around other dogs sooner rather than later. Sometimes, the entire scenario had Madison shaking her head, hoping she’d wake up from a dream.

  “He was out there playing with this poodle-cross we board.
He likes her,” the woman said, breaking through Madison’s thoughts.

  Madison smiled at the woman, her words bringing up another responsibility she would need to take care of—getting him fixed. This dog was going to break her. Some Christmas gift. “I’ll bring him back tomorrow morning and he may have to stay for a few days.”

  “Sure, that’s—”

  Hershey came through the doorway, trailing a woman behind him, by his leash. His little body pulled her along, and his tail wagged wildly when he saw Madison. For a trace of an instant, Madison imagined his fur under her hands, and soon after it was a reality.

  “Guess we’ll see you again tomorrow, Hershey.” The lady who brought him up rubbed the top of his head in a quick yet affectionate manner, much the same as a father does to his son. She passed Madison a smile and handed over the leash before going back to the kennels.

  “See you tomorrow.”

  The woman behind the counter waved good-bye, and Madison wondered if she liked Hershey more than her, not that it mattered.

  “Yes, we will.” Madison directed Hershey to sit, something behavioral canine training was instilling in her. They had been to one class so far, but Madison already knew she was to be the boss and not let the dog think he was. The training instilled the fine line of being in charge—afford the dog dignity and respect its intelligence.

  She waited for Hershey to sit, and when he calmed down, she took the first step. He took five. She stopped again, making him sit and wait for her command to move. She put on a good show in front of the lady, but inside, she boiled with impatience. What seemed like five minutes later, they reached the door, which was only about fifteen feet from the counter.

  AFTER HAULING HERSHEY HOME AND taking him for a twenty-minute walk, more for herself than him, she settled in. The salad she had eaten was long ago metabolized and she was ready to eat again. She was never going to make it with this new healthy way of living. Maybe she should accept herself as being a little overweight and somewhat out of shape. So what if she couldn’t keep up with Terry in a running pursuit, or make it up a long staircase without heaving for a solid breath.