As the plane touched down, I realized that I had made it without any unexpected issues. I took it as a good sign. Maybe I could reclaim some semblance of a normal life, after all.
***
My dad's new house was nothing like the house I'd grown up in. My mom wouldn't have chosen a brick box; she liked a house with some character. This home had my father written all over it: serviceable, solid, and dependable—my dad had always been a no-frills kind of guy.
I walked up the steps and rang the bell. A few moments later, my father, William Rich, answered the door. He was on the short side, and his gray hair was thinning, but his blue-gray eyes were as full of life as they were when I was a little girl. He grabbed me in an intense bear hug, the likes of which I thought I'd have put behind me as an adult, but I could never quite break him of the habit.
"Avery, I almost thought you'd back out on me this trip! I'm so glad you made it."
"It took a while for my luggage to make its way through the airport, and Milly and I had to make a stop on the way. It was a long flight for her." I indicated Milly who was standing politely on her leash. The training course I'd taken with Milly had been worth the time and money; she was easy to be around.
Dad kneeled to greet Milly. "So, this is the beast you've become so attached to!" He gave Milly a scratch behind the ear, and she lit up with joy, her tail wagging with enthusiasm. I could tell the two of them would get along just fine.
"Yes, this is my Milly. She’s been good for me."
"She sure seems like a sweet dog. Well, come on in. It's cool out today."
I followed Dad into the house. The front entrance led to a great room. Milly found a comfy spot on the rug and plopped down as if she were at home.
I glanced up at the portrait of me and my parents hanging on the wall. My dad had fewer wrinkles and dark hair, like mine, in the photo. My mom was fair-skinned and thin. She had a sprinkling of freckles and thick, auburn hair. I felt that old knot form in the back of my throat. I missed her so much. She was the glue that held my family together. When she'd died in a car accident, the warmth of the family died with her.
Dad must have noticed me looking at the portrait. "Both of you are so beautiful. How did I get so lucky?"
"Dad." I gave him a playful push.
"The spare bedroom’s at the end of the hallway on the right. While you get settled, I'll make us some dinner."
"All right. Wait—do you know how to cook?" The memory of an endless stream of cereal and sandwiches when my mom was away for work made me never want to see loaf bread again.
"I know how to cook! Now, go find your room."
I headed down the hallway with Milly at my heels. The room was as small and quaint as the rest of the house. The bedroom furniture had been in my parents' home for as long as I could remember. Dad had made up the bed with a plain blue bedspread. The blinds on the window and lack of extra pillows or decorations made the house feel even more devoid of my mother's presence. I realized that losing someone like that leaves a space in your family you'll always feel, even years after they're gone.
I hung my clothes up in the closet before heading back to the great room. Dad had a salad and some pasta ready to go by the time I'd returned. I fixed my plate.
"So, what are the plans for Christmas?" I took a bite of the pasta and was pleasantly surprised.
"We can just spend some time here. I have to go to a get-together at the club two days before Christmas, but other than that, I’m here.
I looked around the clean, empty living space. "Where’s the Christmas tree?"
Dad sat down at the table, looking uncomfortable. "To be honest, I haven't put one up since we lost your mother. It was just me, then, and I haven't had the heart to do it."
A wave of guilt hit me as I realized I'd dodged my father at Christmas every year since my mother had died. "That's okay, Dad. Maybe I can put one up after dinner. Do you still have the decorations?"
"Of course, I do. Your mother would haunt me if I did anything to her ornaments!"
I laughed. "Where are they?"
"In the top of the hall closet."
I went to get the decorations out. I grabbed a huge box, labeled "Christmas," from the shelf, waddled it into the great room, and put it down without breaking anything. That was when I realized that Dad had changed into the tackiest Christmas sweater I'd ever seen. It was covered in deformed, fat elves, handing each other blinking presents. I stifled a laugh as he handed me a glass of spiked eggnog. "Nice sweater." I grinned at him.
"Thanks. The folks at the club are having a contest. I thought you’d like it."
"Oh, it sure is something!" Milly circled around me as I unpacked the first box of the knick-knacks and ornaments my mother had loved, and I fought back a tear. My mom wanted everyone to be joyful at Christmas. She would have thought my crying over her treasured memories was unacceptable.
"Avery, do you remember Uncle Bob?" Dad asked.
I swallowed hard, determined to control the surge of emotions before I shook my head, no. "Dad, you know I don't have any aunts or uncles. You and Mom were both only children."
"Not all family is related by blood, Avery. Your mother and I considered Bob Maddox family. He was there for us and for you when you were growing up."
"I haven't seen Bob Maddox in a decade. Whatever happened to him?"
"He’s been working for his brother for quite a while. His brother has the spending power, but these days, Bob’s the brains behind the operation. There’s no doubt about that."
"What business are they in?"
"They run Cybertech. I'm sure you saw his brother, Ralph Maddox, mentioned on the news."
"Wait—he was murdered, wasn't he?" I had a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. How could the murder investigation Tori had tried to drag me into be related to a friend of my family?
"Yeah, that's what I wanted to talk to you about. They arrested Bob this morning for his brother's murder." Dad’s face turned red.
"Oh, no. You don't think..." I put the ornament I'd been fidgeting with on the tree before I broke it.
"Well, to be honest, things don't look good. Ralph has no children. When he died, Bob was next in line for everything."
"So, he'd inherit billions." I finished the thought.
Dad nodded. "People have been killed for less."
"What evidence points to him besides the obvious motive?" The familiar cadence of an investigation was pulling me in. I wanted to know why Ralph Maddox was murdered. It wasn't my case—that ship had sailed—but the familiar appeal of peeling back the layers of a crime was compelling. I hadn't felt the need to delve into a crime in so long, it surprised me.
Dad sighed. "The biggest problem is the witness."
"Witness? Someone saw him kill his own brother? That seems a little sloppy."
“It was Ralph's fiancé, Ava Lenore.” Dad dragged the next box of decorations over to the tree.
"The actress?" I pictured the Hollywood beauty.
"Yeah, I think she played on some soap opera."
“It was more than some soap opera. She has a recurring role on Day by Day, and I’m sure she was in a few movies, as well." I opened the box and saw my favorite set of ornaments—tiny Santas from around the world. “So, what does Ava Lenore say about Ralph?”
"She was interviewed on the news. Ava says she and Ralph were coming from a performance downtown. It was late, and they'd both had a few drinks. They were out for a walk when a man came out of an alleyway and attacked her. Ava said that Ralph tried to protect her and the man stabbed him at least five times before he took off. Ava claims the attacker was Bob."
I put the last ornament on the tree. "Something seems strange there. Why would Bob be lurking in a dark alley to attack Ava? Was there a history of bad blood between them?"
"No, I don’t think they know each other well, but the police have an eyewitness, and Bob has no alibi. Still, it doesn't add up."
I examined my father closely. "Wait,
Dad—they wouldn't have put those details in the news. Where are you getting that story?"
"I went to see Bob." Dad looked away from me, focusing on the bookshelf full of his ancient law books in the corner.
"Dad, you’re retired. You can't represent him."
"I went as a favor to a friend. Besides, I'm retired, not disbarred. I could represent him."
"Are you?"
"I'm not sure, yet. I want to help him. We owe him that much."
"Owe him?" What in the world was Dad talking about?
"Never mind. It was before you were born."
"Look, Dad, I understand Bob’s a friend, but if there’s a witness, it would be hard to prove him innocent."
Dad shook his head. "But not impossible."
"No, not impossible. If he actually is innocent. I'd have to talk to him and the witness to know if there are any holes in the story."
"So, can you?" Dad looked at me with sorrow in his eyes.
"Dad, it's not my case!" A wave of guilt took me by surprise. It was supposed to be my case.
"Avery, I know you had a bad experience. You haven't told me much about it, but I have to assume something went wrong. I think Bob’s in a similar situation. Believe me when I say he'd help you if you ever needed him. This is our chance to give something back. Isn’t there is a favor somewhere you can call in? If there’s a way you can look into this, I’d consider it a personal favor."
Something about my dad's expression seemed desperate. I wondered what debt he owed this man that made him feel so obligated. "Dad, I'm not sure what I can do. My connections are running a little thin these days."
"I know you’ll do what you can. Avery, if anybody can help Bob, I know it's you."
I laughed with discomfort. "Your confidence in me may be exaggerated, but I'll talk to Bob. We can go from there. If it looks possible, I'll try to see if I can look into it without stepping on anybody's toes."
Chapter 6
Dad and I spent the next morning putting out the rest of Mom's decorations. It was bittersweet, but I thought she'd have approved. Milly followed me as I set each decoration in place. I noticed that, midway through the process, she'd begun to follow Dad instead of me—he was sneaking her treats from a bag in his pocket.
I petted her, ruffling her fur. “Traitor.”
Milly gave me a doggy grin with her tongue hanging out.
Dad's cooking duty was short-lived. We lounged on the couch after eating way too much takeout from the local steakhouse. We both missed my mom's cooking, but neither of us was willing to point out her glaring absence.
Dad switched on the TV. The nightly news broadcast announced the breaking news with zest. Fresh blood instead of holiday doldrums. A lady reporter looked at the camera with a smile that was more of a sneer than an expression of welcome. "We have breaking news. Ava Lenore, star of Day after Day, has recovered enough to grant our reporter, Sidney Dallas, an exclusive interview from her hospital bed. We join them now.” She stated at the camera as if she could see another reporter in the distances. “Sidney?"
My dad leaned forward, waiting to hear what the injured celebrity had to say.
The newsfeed switched to show a brunette reporter who was in a hospital room. Her name, Sidney Dallas was printed on a small banner at the bottom of the screen. “Yes, I’m here with Ava Lenore who agreed to tell us her story. Ava, can you explain what happened to you?"
The camera cut to Ava, showing her pretty, bruised face. A large bandage covered part of her head. "Thank you. I'm so sorry that my fans have to see me like this, but I want the world to know what happened. I want this attacker caught and brought to justice. Nobody should have to die the way Ralph did."
"Tell us what happened." Sidney Dallas sounded way too excited.
"Ralph and I had gone out to see a play. It was just a small show, Death of a Salesman put on by a youth theater guild I’ve been sponsoring. Normally, the limo driver would have taken us, but Ralph had a new Porsche, and he couldn't wait to get back behind the wheel. I told him it was silly. I mean, I can't give him my full attention when he's driving." Ava blushed, and huge crocodile tears ran down her perfect yet bruised cheeks. "I'm sorry." She dabbed her tears with a tissue that somebody off camera handed to her. "It's just so new and so unfair."
"I think our viewers will understand the difficulties you’re faced with."
Ava nodded. "Well, anyway, we took a little walk after dinner. I have an audition in a couple of weeks, and I wanted to be in top form for the part. We only went a few blocks when Ralph noticed something going on in an alley. I begged him not to go down the alley himself, but there was a man on the ground. Ralph thought he was in trouble, and he wanted to help. He told me to come with him so he wouldn't be alone. It was just one man. He looked like he was having a drug overdose or something. He was dirty and dressed like he had nothing but the clothes on his back."
"So, you went with Ralph?"
"Yes. Part of me wanted to be the one to help that man. I mean, if it was a medical emergency, we could have at least called an ambulance."
"Did you?"
"This is a bunch of crap!" Dad yelled at the TV.
"Shhh. Let's see what she says," I mumbled.
"No," Ava continued, "but Ralph did. He was standing over the man, asking him if he was okay. The man had pulled his jacket over his face. He just groaned when Ralph spoke to him, so Ralph called. He'd just gotten off the phone when it happened."
"When the man attacked Ralph?"
"No, the man attacked me first. I'd leaned over him to see what was wrong while Ralph was on the phone when all at once he hit me with a bottle he was holding under the jacket. I fell down, and he was on top of me, hitting me over and over. And then Ralph was there, pulling him off of me. I tried to get away. The man pulled out a blade, and then he stabbed Ralph, over and over. I ran. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. It was like something out of a horror movie. The police and an ambulance met me less than a block away. I guess they were there because Ralph had called. I wasn't getting far in heels."
"And the man—did he look familiar?"
"Not at first. I mean, he looked like a homeless guy, but when he took the jacket away from his face, I knew who he was right away. It was Bob Maddox. He was in disguise, but it was him."
Dad was on his feet. The relaxed mood of the evening had been ruined. "Right! And then he disappeared into thin air and popped up at home with no effort at all after he'd brutally murdered his own twin brother."
The camera cut back to the reporter. "I should mention that Bob Maddox has been arrested and is being held without bond as he awaits trial. Thank you for sharing your story, Ava. I hope you find strength and healing during this difficult time."
"Thank you."
A commercial interrupted the broadcast, possibly saving my father from an impending heart attack. His face was red. His veins bulged.
"She seemed sure it was him," I said.
"There's something wrong here. I've trusted that man with my life, with your life. He didn’t kill his own brother. I'm certain of it!"
What was Dad talking about?
"Well, I'm sure Bob has his own side of the story."
"Yes, and the people need to hear it, but first, we have to meet the burden of proof."
"You know he’s innocent until proven guilty, Dad."
"Then help me prove it, Avery!"
"I...I don't know if I can." I chewed my lip as I considered the request.
"Nobody else seems to be willing. How can anybody believe Bob just up and murdered his twin brother? There was no bad blood between them. For Pete's sake, the company had tripled in worth since they’ve been working together."
"Fine. I'll go talk to Bob. I'll listen to his side of the story. But that doesn't mean I'm taking the case. I'm not even sure if I could pull the strings to take this on."
"It would be great if you could at least try. Something’s just wrong about this whole situation; I know it."
&
nbsp; "All right, Dad, I'll go talk to Bob."
Dad gave me a quick hug. "That's my girl."
***
The men’s penitentiary was a force unto itself. Layers of barbed wire fencing surrounded it for as far as the eye could see. The stark, industrial building stood as a cold square, two stories tall. I shivered as I looked at it, imagining what it would be like to spend the holidays in such an uninviting institution. The thought that at least none of them would spend the holidays alone did little to dispel the sense of gloom surrounding the place. I went to the main office to check in. The background check was more complicated than I'd expected, but there was a reason the facility had a reputation for its isolation. Once the prisoners had checked in, their access to the outside world was revoked. Whatever crimes they were involved in on the outside could not reach them on the inside. The warden took pride in his fortress.
I watched as the clerk entered all of my real information and prayed none of the mess from my stolen identity had permanently attached itself. After what seemed like an eternity, the clerk—a slight man with a beer-belly—smiled and said, "Great news: you’ve passed the screening. Why didn't you say you were a detective?"
"I was a detective, but I'm taking time off. I'm here as a family friend."
"Interesting. Must be a close friend. We don't get many casual visitors here."
"Sure." I tried to picture the man my father had referred to as my "uncle" Bob, but nothing endearing came to mind in the few memories I had of him. I wondered what situation had caused my father to remember a closer bond.
"All right. We’re all set. Right this way." The clerk hopped up with surprising agility for a middle-aged guy. He led me through the layers of bars and gates, granting access to each of them with a practiced flourish. The metallic clang of the bars closing behind me made me jump every single time, underscoring my separation from the freedom of the outside world. I thought about how this could have been my life, how I could have been the one stuck on the inside for a crime I hadn't committed. Thankfully, others had helped me prove my innocence. If Bob was innocent, I hoped he'd get the help he needed to turn his life around.
Dressed to Kill Page 3
