Hershey settled on the floor at her feet and chewed on a rawhide bone she had picked up for him a few days ago. His oversized paws held a solid grip on it, and with the chomping of his jaw, Madison was thankful her arm wasn’t the bone.
She brought up the results she had been working on at the station in regards to her cold case. She had e-mailed the list of printing companies home the other day, figuring after hours was likely the only time she’d have to dig into them.
She spent the next hour or so e-mailing them to inquire about envelope stock with the infinity symbol woven into the fibers of the paper. This would be step one.
After she received responses from them, she’d take it from there and ask for their customer lists. She was specifically interested in their business clients, hoping she’d find the connection to Dimitre Petrov, the Russian mafia boss and the piece of an envelope found beside the murdered attorney.
Satisfied, she dropped onto her couch, stretching out. She did her best to ignore the hunger pangs and turned on the TV. She wasn’t really paying attention to what was happening on the screen and fell asleep with Hershey curled up behind her legs.
-
Chapter 24
SHE ARRIVED AT THE STATION at five after eight. Terry raised a Starbucks cup to her as a greeting. He received a mumble in response as she pressed her lips to the edge of her own coffee.
Her neck ached enough it felt like dandelion head. She thought of the childhood song Mama Had a Baby and His Head Popped Off.
She had awakened on her side, with her arms tucked under her head. Seconds of convincing her back to move, she straightened out, but the residual effects of sleeping curled on the couch would be with her all day.
She pulled a plastic-wrapped muffin from her coat pocket and tossed it on her desk.
“I hope it’s bran, otherwise—”
He stopped talking when her eyes narrowed to slits and she took a bite of the muffin, clearing off most of the top in one mouthful.
“Oh no.”
“What, Terry?” With her mouth full, the only one that could have understood her would have been a dentist.
Terry’s face contorted. “At least it’s not a chocolate bar.”
She swallowed hard, more of the muffin going down than was necessarily advisable. “I work with my father?”
“Call me a concerned citizen.”
“You’re a cop.” She tore off another piece of the muffin with her fingers and stuffed it into her mouth. The salad from last night was long gone, and she wondered why anyone ate lettuce as a meal in the first place. Did they want to become rabbits?
“Concerned cop then.” Terry took a drag on his Starbucks. “If you keep eating bars and muffins for breakfast you’re going to—”
“What? End up fifty pounds overweight?” She paused for a sip of her caffeine to wash the lodge of muffin down. “Do you forget I rarely eat and I’m running around all day?”
“If you were running around all day you could have kept up in the chase.”
“You really want to go there.” She gave him a look that dared him to continue.
“Someone needs more food and sleep. It’s gonna be a great day.” He swiveled his chair, Starbucks cup firmly in hand.
“I’m going to pretend I never heard what you said, or the implication.” Her mind was fully on business now. “We need to push Hennessey hard again today, show him a picture of the weapon we found and study his reaction. Hopefully, Cynthia can get us some forensic findings today.”
Terry watched her rip off pieces of the muffin, smaller now, and pop them into her mouth.
“We also need to go see Hargrove.”
“You remember we found the gun in Bates’s apartment,” Terry said.
She cocked her head to the side and put the wrapping from the muffin into the garbage. “I also know it hasn’t been confirmed as the murder weapon.”
“Do I sense a trust for other people?”
His question silenced her. Was she getting weak? She dismissed the doubt as quickly as it arose. “We have him in holding. He’s not going anywhere. This Hargrove guy, I’d like to press him more about his relationship with Lacy, find out if his wife knows about the arrangement.”
“You still think he’s involved somehow.”
“Yes, Terry.” She recalled their bet yesterday. “And I’m going to make twenty off it.” She smiled.
PETER HARGROVE WAS BUSINESS PARTNERS with Daddy Warbucks, Maurice Kendal, for a company called Solarpanel Energy. Their beginning was humble, but government funding had upgraded their accommodations to a warehouse in an industrial part of town. Now, company stock was traded. Cheap, ecological power was a hot commodity, and when that service offered dividends in return, there was nothing to lose.
The front desk was made of granite and easily fifteen feet long. Trays were stacked on both ends. Two ladies sat behind the desk, both with wireless headsets. One spoke into hers, and the other lady looked at them and offered a sincere smile.
“Welcome to Solarpanel Energy. What can I do for you today?”
Madison held out her badge. She noticed the lady on the phone glance at her before turning away. She spoke to the one who had greeted them. “We’re here to speak with Peter Hargrove.”
Her mascara coated lashes dropped heavily, only to open wide again. Piercing green eyes studied her. “Do you have an appointment?”
“Nope, but we have badges.” Madison held hers up again. “I would think that trumps an appointment.”
“I’ll see what I can do.” She pressed a button on the phone in front of her. After a few seconds, she spoke. “Peter, I have a—”
She pivoted her chair slightly to the right as if seeking privacy to identify his visitors. “They are cops…yes…okay. Thank you.” She pushed a button on the headset. “He said to have a seat and he’ll be out soon.”
Fifteen minutes passed and they were still waiting. Madison glanced at Terry as she stood up. “This is ridic—”
“Detectives, I’m not really sure what more you want from me. Did you find the necklace?”
“Do you have somewhere private we can talk?” Madison asked.
“I do, but—”
“We could talk about everything here in the lobby if you wish.” She looked into his eyes.
“This way.” Hargrove led them to a large conference room with a marker board mounted to the wall on one end. A projection television box was secured to the ceiling at the other end, directed at it. The table was granite and the chairs surrounding it were plush leather. He gestured for them to sit across from him.
They both sat down and Hargrove looked at them as if doing his best to read the purpose of the visit. “Have you found her killer?”
Madison noticed how his eyes widened with the question. She had a hard time determining guilt or innocence, but her suspicions led her to side with the former. “You tell us.”
“What is this, a game to you?” His brows furled downward into a V.
“Does your wife know—”
“Know what? That I set a young lady up in a nice place and helped turn her life around.”
“You make her sound like a charity.”
“I don’t like your implications.”
“I’m not implying anything. The facts are that rarely does a man provide all these things for nothing in return.”
“So you’re saying I must have been sleeping with her.”
Madison let Hargrove’s statement dry in the air, established eye contact with him, and sank back into the leather, letting it embrace her.
“This is ludicrous.” He let out a puff of air as he rose to his feet. He paced a few steps. “Why can’t someone do something out of the goodness of their heart? Why is that so hard for you to understand?” His questions were stamped with the rhetorical as he passed glances at them.
“A job hazard?” He pointed a finger at her. “It’s your job to prove I did something to the girl, and you can’t. You won’t be able to.”
“Are you saying there should be something to prove? Does your wife know? Why not answer that question?”
Hargrove swiped a hand across his forehead and flexed his fingers on his temple. “She doesn’t agree with it.”
“Can we talk to her?”
Silence.
“If you have nothing to hide, it shouldn’t be an issue.”
“Fine.”
“But one thing before we go. You told us you met Lacy a few weeks ago, but the apartment was purchased by you two months ago.”
Hargrove let out a laugh. “I never said I met her three weeks ago. You assumed that.”
-
Chapter 25
HARGROVE DIRECTED THEM TO HIS residence where he said his wife, Beverly, would be at this time of day. He had consulted his watch and had added that she would probably be home from her yoga class.
His statement prompted Madison to think how much easier it would be to schedule in exercise if she didn’t have to work. From there, her thought process made a leap to Maurice Kendal, the luggage he had on his floor, and the Hawaiian shirt he wore. How long had his trip been planned? Was it a coincidence that he was leaving the country around the same time that Lacy’s body was discovered? Then again, how could he have predicted her discovery?
“Here’s another line of thought, what if it was Daddy Warbucks?”
“Daddy Warbucks?”
“You know, Maurice Kendal.”
“Right.”
“Seems like a convenient time to take off on a holiday, doesn’t it?”
“Possible coincidence.”
“You know I don’t—”
“I know you don’t believe in it. But it doesn’t mean it doesn’t happen.”
“What if he were the one who—”
Terry let out a laugh.
She looked over at him from the driver’s seat. “What’s funny?”
“Just you. You put a bet in favor of Hargrove, and now you’re flipping over to the biological father.”
Madison looked back to the road. “A good detective needs to follow all leads and exhaust all potential suspects. Right now all we have is a bunch of loose ends.” She noticed the clichéd phrase as soon as it slipped out, but it was too late for recovery.
“And you bug me about clichés.”
“I blame my mother.” She looked at him. “What are you smirking about?”
“The best part of being a man. The kid never says it’s his dad’s fault; it’s always the mother’s. And the phrase, son of a—” Terry waved his hand to fill in the expletive. He hated swear words.
“See, being a woman isn’t easy.” Her mind went right back to business. “Kendal said to Hargrove not to spend any more money on ten-dollar whores. Remember?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “He has no respect for women and figured Lacy had turned up to take his money. She didn’t hold any value to him.”
“Still, why go to the trouble of killing her? If she meant nothing to him, why risk prison?” Terry looked at her blankly, but it got the point across.
Madison pulled the car into the driveway of Hargrove’s house. They rang the doorbell and it seemed to echo off the interior of the expansive home before seeping through the door to them.
“What’s it like to have all this money?” Terry tried to look through the sidelights into the interior of the house, but the glass was etched and patterned.
“Wouldn’t know.”
She remembered a time when she had a received a taste of the finer things.
Terry looked at her and his eyes read, do you miss him?
How did he know what she was thinking? She averted eye contact and pressed the doorbell again.
Footsteps came toward the door and it opened to a woman with long brown hair. It swept over her shoulders in soft curls and complimented her round face. Her eyes trained up and down on both of them. Smugness filled her expression. Madison didn’t sense its source came from wealth, but rather from a readiness to defend herself and her husband.
“He said you would be coming.” Beverly held one hand on the door, barring their passage through. She had stood there for a bit before she opened the door wider to allow them in, and Madison felt it was simply out of compliance with law enforcement. They were intrusions, not guests.
Inside the front doors, the ceiling was at least thirty feet high. Above them, an upper-floor balcony traced the perimeter of the second floor. A dark-framed mirror, the size of an average dining room table, hung on the wall over a fireplace. A formal sitting area was laid out in front of it. Oversized accent pieces were everywhere. A large vase sat on the floor and pieces of greenery tucked into it bowed gracefully over its edges.
Beverly directed them to two brown leather chairs that sat across from a matching couch.
There was a young boy of about ten playing a video game. He didn’t even acknowledge them.
“Pete’s nephew Kenny,” Beverly explained as she straightened her posture and crossed her legs. “Kenny.” The boy didn’t respond. Beverly raised her voice. “Kenny! Go into the back room for a bit.” Her directions were met with a moan, but the kid obeyed her.
Beverly reached for a mug from the side table and blew on it before she took a sip.
Madison gave the formal introductions.
“I understand why you’re here. You detect there must be something immoral about my Peter.” She blinked slowly, judgmentally. “You don’t believe it possible that a man of his position in life is capable of a platonic relationship with a young woman.”
“Mrs. Hargrove.” Madison used the formal address, assuming this was how she was used to being handled. Beverly possessed the ability to look through them and down on them in equal balance. She had always had money. “Your husband is a good man for—”
“You are completely correct. I’m not really sure what this visit is about.”
“You obviously knew about Lacy Rose.”
Beverly blinked deliberately, her lashes touching beneath her eyes. She reopened them as if they were heavy.
“What did you think about your husband showing a ‘young woman’ attention?”
Beverly put the mug back on the table. “I believe it was very noble of him. The girl’s own father rejected her.”
“We met Mr. Kendal.”
“He’s a horrendous man.”
The way she stated it and tightened her arms had Madison envisioning a shiver running through Beverly.
“He’s your husband’s business partner,” Madison said.
Beverly passed Terry a glance but focused on Madison. “It doesn’t mean I have to like him.”
“How do you feel about Lacy’s death?”
The question had hung in silence before she answered. “It’s a shame.”
“It is.” Madison sensed sincerity in Beverly’s inflection and studied her eyes. There was more beneath the surface. “What did you really think about your husband’s charity toward Lacy?”
A spark fired, Beverly’s eyes were now a blazing blue. “His charity, his compassion toward other people less fortunate, defines him. Lacy really was no different than the rest of them.”
“The rest of them?”
Beverly dismissed the question with a wave of her hand. “All of the charities, the benefits, the campaigns to raise money for local funding. My husband has a large heart.”
“But this is the first time he brought in a stray.”
Beverly’s eyes snapped to Madison’s.
“He took things a little too far for you.”
She licked her lips, her tongue barely parting them to do so. “I didn’t necessarily agree, no.” She took a deep breath. “But he is my husband and I support
him.” Beverly paused, and then continued. “He had me do things to help her out too.”
“Do you know why your husband felt so compelled to help her?”
The woman’s jaw tightened and her eyes read, not for the tabloid reason. “He just said he felt he had to.”
Madison rose to her feet, warranting a questionable blinking from Beverly. Madison smiled at her. “Thank you for your time.”
“Of course.”
-
Chapter 26
MADISON MANAGED TO MAKE IT to the car before she said anything. She sensed the woman watching them from the front window. She slipped behind the wheel.
“This is the first time her husband took his charity to this extent and he felt he had to? Why? There is no way this was a platonic relationship. There has to be something we can find that will prove it.”
“If there’s something there to—”
“You still don’t suspect anything?” She reversed out of the driveway and made her way through the subdivision.
“I haven’t made my mind up yet.”
“Well, you better have a twenty ready for me because I’ll be winning another bet.”
“Oh no, don’t think—”
Her phone rang, bringing an abrupt ending to their conversation. She pressed the button and continued to drive. “Knight…all right.” She glanced over at Terry and smiled faintly. “Thanks.” She turned to Terry. “You’ll never believe this—”
“That you’re breaking the law again.”
Her brows furled downward. His statement lost her.
His finger pointed to her phone. “On the cell while driving, in a department car no less. The new bylaw says it’s a no-no.”
“A no-no?” Madison laughed. “What are you, a ten-year-old?”
“Practicing my parental skills.”
“Keep practicing.” She dragged her eyes from him back to the road. “You hate it when I don’t have both hands on the wheel. You don’t care about that law. My driving makes you nervous.”
“Too many close calls for me. Speaking of—” His sentence died there, the tail-end hanging with an enclosed question.
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