Found Innocent

by Carolyn Arnold

  Madison looked over at her partner.

  “What?”

  She smiled at him and opened the door. It looked like it had in the photos less the horror of the crime scene.

  “At least if the guy did off himself, he was kind enough to do so in the tub.” Terry ran a hand along the dresser.

  “Seriously.”

  “Well.”

  “Trace pulled a lot of evidence—hair, fibers, fingerprints—but nothing came back to a match in the system. The evidence was dismissed as circumstantial based on the location of the crime scene.”

  “I can see that.”

  “Really? The suicide note isn’t even what I would call a suicide note. It was written a day before. There are people who would have wanted Thorne dead.”

  “Yes, and that’s why we’re here. Sometimes it’s easier to see backward than it is ahead.”

  “You’re getting philosophical on me now?” Madison asked.

  “No, I’m just saying is all. Now we have another body tied back to this one, it casts more light on the shadows of the case.”

  “Shadows.”

  “Please don’t pick on my word choice right now.”

  She held up a hand as if to say, fine.

  Terry continued. “When the investigation first opened, there wasn’t any connection to people other than—”

  “Other than Vilma,” she said. “We both know she was questioned at length about Kevin, their relationship, why he would have been at the motel.”

  “And her answer was she didn’t know.”

  “Didn’t know, or wouldn’t say.”

  “You think she killed her fiancé?” Terry asked.

  “Not sure yet, but it’s possible.”

  “There’s nothing showing in her background for drug use—”

  “There wasn’t anything in Thorne’s either.”

  “But we know that Lacy used. We know that her pimp boyfriend, Hennessey, did and likely dealt.”

  Terry rubbed the back of his neck.

  “You’re still not convinced this was anything more than a suicide, are you? Sometimes I wonder if you disagree with me just for the sake of disagreeing.” Madison walked around, Terry trailing behind her. She took in the space, breathing in the smell of cleaning chemicals, envisioning Thorne in the room.

  The TV was on.

  The sheets had evidence of a sexual encounter.

  “Cynthia had noted the television was on the weather channel,” Madison said while pointing at the TV. “He had sex beforehand. We still need to know, for certain, with whom. Cynthia’s going to run—” Her thoughts shifted direction. “He didn’t come here to kill himself. Why have sex? Why have someone else here?”

  “One last time before—”

  “No, it’s not that. There’s more here.”

  She noticed her partner roll his eyes but ignored it.

  “Okay,” Terry said, “so the guy shows up here intent on killing himself. At least that’s the plan, if I’m playing along.”

  “He sets up a meeting, say with Lacy. Every Thursday night as the front desk guy said.”

  “Still following.”

  “She comes in and has sex with him. Then where does she go?”

  “Back home before Hennessey has a clue?”

  “Possible.” She dipped her head left to right.

  “I don’t know what you expect to uncover. Thorne had lost everything and he was under a lot of stress. He had a new baby on the way, had to balance a fiancée, and apparently a lover on the side.”

  “He hadn’t lost his job at the time of the e-mail. And he couldn’t have been too down, though, or why meet up with a woman? Why meet up with Lacy? When I’m down, I prefer to be alone.”

  “You get down?” Terry asked.

  “Listen, you’re missing the point. What if Lacy showed up here as she did every Thursday night. Hennessey and Bates knew she had an older man. Maybe they had no idea about Hargrove? Maybe they assumed Thorne was the older man taking care of her. What if they followed her and killed him? Huh?”

  “TOD for Lacy was put at a week after Thorne.”

  “An approximate timeline. And who knows, maybe they didn’t kill her right away. Hennessey was more interested in reclaiming his property,” Madison elaborated.

  “Lacy could have threatened to go to the authorities about what they did to Thorne.”

  “Exactly. They killed her to silence her about Thorne’s murder and then staged her death to look like a suicide too.”

  Terry looked around the room. “Now we just have to prove it.”

  -

  Chapter 32

  THEY SPENT THE NEXT THIRTY MINUTES examining the motel room and trying to relive the last night of Thorne’s life.

  “So, the guy was watching the weather channel,” Madison said.

  “They had questioned the fiancée about it and she said he was probably looking at it for their wedding date, which was that weekend.”

  “Another thing that doesn’t make sense. If he was looking at the weather for that purpose, he had something he was looking forward to in life. It doesn’t fit with a suicidal person. And when Vilma was questioned about whether she had sex in the motel with Thorne, she said she never did. She was certain he never would have cheated on her either. She said the lab must have been mistaken. She tried to say it was poor cleaning, even when they told her it had been confirmed as Thorne’s DNA.” Madison touched the comforter and pulled her hand back. She looked at her partner. “You never met this woman. She’s kind of crazy, but not in the killer type of way, just crazy—in her own way.”

  “Clarify.”

  “She was in denial about a lot of things: Thorne sleeping with someone else. Thorne killing himself.”

  “What if she did it? I know we mentioned it in passing already, but—”

  Madison shook her head. “I don’t buy it.”

  “Just because you don’t buy it doesn’t mean it isn’t the truth.”

  “Let’s revisit the interviews with the motel staff.”

  THE INTERVIEW WITH SCOTT CLOUSE, a motel employee, showed a man who had everything together. Sovereign made a notation that he was calm and rational. He had attributed it to shock. She played the tape from one of the recorded interviews.

  “You didn’t see anything unusual?” Sovereign asked.

  “You mean besides some kids I had to ask to leave the property? No. Just like every other night.”

  “Was Mr. Thorne a regular there?”

  “That’s his name? He paid cash.”

  “You ever see him before?”

  “Nope,” Clouse said.

  “Never?”

  “Never.”

  “All right, then, continue from the top and run me through your night.”

  Clouse continued to say how he had passed most of the night watching the television in the lobby. He said his usual shift wasn’t Thursday, but he got suckered into it. The regular employee, a kid name Trevor Whitmore, was off for his sister’s wedding.

  Madison and Terry shared a look as the tape continued to play on screen.

  Clouse added that he preferred to work the start of the week, when couples would rendezvous. “To see all those people who live double lives. They are going for what they want in life.”

  That opinion grated on Madison. She passed a glance at her partner, who was intently listening to the interview.

  “The girl that came for his room was fine.”

  Madison paused the tape. “There is evidence right there. Sovereign should have followed this up. This guy is confirming a person went into that room with Thorne.”

  She hit play before Terry could respond. She was seething angry with Sovereign for rushing the case to a conclusion.

  “Describe her for us,” Sovereign
said.

  “Blonde, thin, real thin, pretty face.”

  “Did you get her name?”

  The man laughed. “Rarely do we get names here.”

  “Continue, what happened next?”

  “She showed up and…well, she showed up and went into his room. I noticed because I saw a cab’s headlights pulling in and got up to look. That’s how I saw her and knew she was fine.”

  “You could tell all this from across a parking lot?”

  “I know what I saw.”

  “Then what?”

  “I went back to my television show.”

  “Nothing else after that? Name of the cab company?”

  “Nope, and I have no idea.” There was a pause. “Well, a couple cars came in after that and parked in front of other rented rooms. I never thought anything of it.”

  “You saw the cars earlier in the day when they rented the rooms?” Sovereign asked.

  “No, I’m not saying that. Shift started at seven.”

  “You don’t know if those cars belonged to the other rented rooms? There’s no record of license plates when people check in?”

  “I assumed. No…wait a minute, am I a suspect here?”

  “We’re trying to find out what happened to—”

  “Well, it had nothing to do with me.”

  “What were the makes and models of the cars?”

  “I don’t know. I’m sorry, but I didn’t look that close. I’m pretty sure one was older. It was large and boxy. But the other was smaller, compact.”

  Madison hit the stop button. “Neither Hennessey nor Bates has a car registered to them.”

  “It could have been a friend’s.”

  “What if they came in the cab, although, Clouse made it sound as if Lacy did.”

  “This is a mess.”

  “What about Vilma? What car does she drive?” Madison asked.

  “I’ll be right back.” Terry rose and left the room, headed for his computer.

  Madison sat looking at the crime scene photos. Sovereign hadn’t checked out all the angles, yet Winston had termed him as one of his best. She didn’t find any follow-up notes made on the “large and boxy” or “compact” cars.

  Knuckles rapped on the door.

  She expected to see Winston checking in on their progress with the case. It was Sovereign. She turned back around to face the table. Her next exhale of breath was stymied.

  “I hear you’re looking into my closed case.”

  She heard his footsteps coming closer and felt his confident arrogance sweep across the room.

  “You think I missed something?”

  She faced him. When their eyes met, she felt the familiar tap in her chest. “Yeah, I do.”

  “What exactly? You think the guy was murdered?” He pulled out a chair opposite her, flipped it around, and straddled it backward.

  “It doesn’t matter what I think.” She pulled a sheet out of a file. Her mind wasn’t on the words; it was on her discomfort. “You have a job to do? A case to work on?” Her eyes looked into his. She refused to let him see how their past still affected her. She hated to accept it herself.

  “There’s always a case.” His eyes scanned her face, paused at her mouth, and traveled back to her eyes. “You still hate me.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “To hate you would imply that I care.”

  “Thorne had a crappy hand dealt to him. He didn’t have a reason to live. His e-mail said he couldn’t deal with it anymore.”

  “There are a lot of holes.”

  “You think that Richards called it wrong too? COD wasn’t self-inflicted? Have you run this by him to see what he thinks of your superior point of view?”

  “Don’t be like—”

  “Like what, Knight? Right?” He rose and turned the chair around, tucking it back into the table before leaving the room.

  Madison’s hand balled into a fist on the table.

  -

  Chapter 33

  TERRY FOUND OUT VILMA DROVE a car which could be described as a compact.

  “I can’t see her doing it.” Madison stuffed photos into folders and then put them into the box.

  “Because you can’t see it happening doesn’t mean it didn’t.”

  They took the evidence back to lock-up and headed out to see Vilma at her home in the east end. The house was a two-story brick, turn-of-the-century home. The front garden looked in need of tending, but would wait until the new season. The front patch of grass was brown from the snow and winter thaw.

  Vilma answered after their first knock. It was about seven in the evening and nightfall was imminent. At least the days were getting a little longer.

  “Detective Knight.” Vilma opened the door for them to enter her home. Her wild curls were pulled back into a clip, except for a few strands that dangled over her ears. Large hoops adorned her ears, like the ones she wore the first time they had met, and her eyelids were painted teal today. She wore tight blue jeans and a black sweater that reached the middle of her thigh in length. She burrowed beneath it and stuffed one hand into a pocket. “Have you found out anything?”

  They had decided not to confront her on the witness’s note of a compact vehicle. This visit was simply to derive more background into her relationship with the deceased.

  Madison introduced Terry, and then Vilma led them to her kitchen table.

  Vilma studied Terry’s face before turning to Madison.

  “We’re here because we’re looking into things,” Madison said.

  Vilma’s mouth curved into a small smile.

  “We don’t want you to get your hopes built up too much.”

  “Hopes are what give me breath, Detective. Without them, why bother?” She glanced at Terry again. “Yes, hope and dreams are what keep this planet turning.”

  “While I believe hope is important, I want you to realize it’s still early on in the investigation.” Madison regretted saying what she had the second it came out.

  “Oh, thank god!”

  Madison tapped her hand on Vilma’s forearm a couple times.

  “Don’t get my hopes up,” she mumbled, repeating Madison.

  Madison nodded slowly.

  They had decided not to get into the fact that Thorne’s case had been connected to another one. Everything had to be executed perfectly to obtain anything from her that may prove useful—something that may have been overlooked by Sovereign. She was out to confirm that the man was wrong now. She hated that it took Richards down with him.

  “Your fiancé died in a motel room.”

  “Paradise Motel.”

  “Correct.” Madison took a deep breath, her patience level breaching the surface already. “There was evidence that he had company that night.”

  “Nope, I do not believe it.” Her face was stoic.

  “Well, I’m going by what the file said.”

  “The same file that said he killed himself? You may want to find a new file. I told the original detective that came here—what was his name? Trim, blond hair, nice looking.”

  Madison’s jaw tightened. “Detective Sovereign.”

  “Yes, that’s it. I told him that there must have been a mistake. He’d never do that me. My Kev and I were in love—real love.”

  Love was a fabrication to make one feel better, like they belonged in the world, like they had a purpose. Madison’s thought made her remember a man she had met during a previous investigation.

  “There are people who don’t believe it, but they’ve never had it then.” Vilma’s left hand went to the hoop in that ear. “They told me he went there every Thursday.”

  Madison remained silent, hoping Vilma would talk herself into the realization Kevin Thorne wasn’t as innocent as she wanted to believe.

  “He liked to play with himself s
ometimes. Ya know, when he was stressed or overwhelmed. But another woman, nuh-uh. He’d never cheat on me.” A hand went to her abdomen. “I’m two months pregnant.”

  Madison smiled at her.

  “I can tell you found that out already. It was going to be such a happy event, but at least I’ll have a bit of Kev with me forever.” Her eyes misted and soaked her lashes.

  “I have to ask you a question and it may be difficult to answer. Were you at Paradise Motel on the Thursday night he died?”

  Vilma pinched the tip of her nose and let out a deep, jagged sigh. “Yes. I stopped by to say hi to Kev, but he liked his alone time sometimes.”

  “He wasn’t happy to see you that night?”

  A single tear slid down a cheek as she shook her head.

  “Do you know why?”

  “All I know is he told me he was expecting a guy from the office over. Said he was real bummed about losing his job and that he needed a release. He wanted me to leave before he got there.”

  Madison realized again how blind love could make people.

  Sobs wrenched her body. “I…I know I should have told the other cop this, but I wanted Kev’s death investigated. He never would have killed himself.”

  “When he told you he wanted you to leave, what did you do?”

  “I left. I mean, what else was I supposed to do?”

  “Where did you go?”

  Vilma’s bloodshot eyes looked into Madison’s. “You think I did it.”

  “I’m not saying that at all.”

  “I just came home.”

  Madison nodded. “This guy from the office, do you know his name?”

  She shook her head. “He didn’t say.”

  “Did Kev have people from work over before?”

  “Not that I know of, but we lived separately. We were waiting until we got married for that.” More tears fell in silence. She continued. “I started questioning myself afterward, you know. Was he trying to tell me something? Was he reaching out to me by mentioning that he needed a release?”

  “You wonder if he was trying to tell you something?”

  “Yeah. If he did kill himself, it was almost like a coded message, looking back. You know, tying things together. He lost his job and the fact he needed a release.” Vilma rose, pulled a tissue box from a kitchen counter, and brought it back with her to the table. “I thought he wanted to kick back and have a few drinks.” She paused for a moment. “But I still can’t accept that he killed himself. And drugs? No way. They say he had done some before he died. He wasn’t a user.”