Dressed to Kill

by Sara B Gauldin

  I took a deep breath to steady myself as the clerk led me into the waiting area. The room had a few tables in it with chairs on either side. The walls were made from bulletproof glass. I noticed speakers on the ceiling, and I was confident the sound went both directions. There was no privacy. All means had been used to ensure every particle of useful information would be collected. I felt guilty. This couldn’t be the room where Bob had met with my father. Dad would have claimed attorney-client privilege from the moment he'd stepped foot in the building. For me, that wasn’t an option.

  A noise at the door on the opposite side of the room caught my attention. A guard with dark circles under his eyes led Bob into the room by one arm. His shackles clinked as he moved forward with an undignified shuffle. His skin was sallow in the unflattering fluorescent lighting. It accentuated a rather prominent black eye.

  "What happened to this prisoner?" I demanded. The guard shrugged one shoulder before walking back toward the door.

  "You've got twenty minutes," he grumbled.

  "Bob, what happened to you?" I asked. Seeing Bob again brought back memories of the times he'd visited my parents. The most vivid memory was of him trying to help me win at Hide-and-Seek.

  “Avery? You’ve grown up.” He changed the subject. “I'm surprised to see you here. This is no place for a pretty young lady like you."

  '"Er…thanks."

  Bob shifted against the shackles, trying to find a way to sit in a natural position. "So, what brings you here?"

  "My dad asked me to come. He seems to think I can help you."

  "So, Bill thinks you can help me?"

  "That’s the business I’m in: investigations." At least, it was my business.

  “I'm sorry to say I may be a lost cause.” Bob looked down at the table.

  "Let me be the judge of that. Why don't you tell me what happened, and I'll see what I can do?"

  Bob sighed. "If I knew what happened, I’d tell you. I'm sure you heard: someone murdered my brother, Ralph. It’s awful. I'm told someone attacked him and Ava in an alley and that they stabbed Ralph to death."

  "Who told you that?"

  "The court-appointed attorney who showed up in lockup to tell me to keep my mouth shut."

  "Did he also tell you that Ava claims to have witnessed you murdering your brother?"

  Bob's eyes bulged. "He said there was a witness. He never said who the witness was."

  "It was Ava. She’s been giving interviews about it on television."

  "Oh, my God. I'd have never thought it was possible. Why would Ava try to set me up?"

  "I have no idea. For now, let's focus on your version of what happened." I opened my notebook to the first page.

  "It’s hard to know for sure. I wasn't even there."

  "If you weren't there, then where were you?"

  I wrote “Alibi” on the top of the page.

  "I was working from home in Oregon. My house is over two hours from the office. That’s why I often work from home. That was it for the night. I never left." Bob looked me straight in the eye. The only emotion I could detect was sorrow.

  "Alone?"

  Bob sighed. "Yeah, alone. I'm married to the job these days. I can't get it all done in the office."

  "Did you order food or make any calls?"

  Bob shook his head. "No, nothing. I isolated myself so I could turn off the interruptions. I know this sounds bad."

  Some sense of irony made me smile. "I've heard worse."

  "Geez, that had to be a bad situation."

  I laughed with discomfort as I thought back over the frame-up that had almost put me behind bars. "So, did anyone know you'd planned to go off of the grid for the evening?"

  "Sure. Ava. She invited me to go out to eat with her and Ralph. Yeah, right—I wasn't trying to be a third wheel."

  "She invited you in person?"

  "No. Ava called as I was leaving the office."

  "And what did she say?"

  "She was giggly and distracted. I didn't ask why. I didn't want to know. She said Ralph said to call me and to ask me to meet them for dinner at the Milliner's Cafe at six o'clock."

  "And you declined?"

  "Yes. I told her I was busy working at home, and I hoped they had a nice dinner."

  "It sounds like there may have been some resentment there. I mean, your brother's out on the town with a gorgeous Hollywood actress, and you’re stuck at home, building the company that made him a billionaire."

  "I was happy for my brother. He worked hard to get where he was, and he spent quite a lot of alone time to get there."

  "But you didn't?"

  “Mine was a more traditional pathway, but it was rewarding. I married Susie young. We had Emily and Bruce. They grew up before my eyes. When Susie died, I had an empty house. My kids were away at college. It was time to help my brother and to take a new step in my life. I never imagined either of us would end up...” His voice cracked. “I'm sorry. It’s just surreal."

  "When did you speak to your brother last?"

  "It was the day before he died. He came into my office to check on a report I'd generated about a new game we'd produced."

  "What game?"

  "'Curly's Revenge.'"

  "And were things going well?"

  "No, not really. We spent a mint in production, but the game hasn't caught on yet."

  "I bet your brother wasn't happy about that."

  "Ralph wasn't hurt. I mean, he got a little loud, but that's how it is with brothers. It always blows over. Until now." Tears formed in Bob’s eyes as he recounted the last moments he'd shared with his twin brother.

  I couldn’t let myself be a part of his grief if I'd find out the truth. "So, you argued with Ralph the day before he died about your decision costing his company money?"

  Bob nodded. "It sounds worse when you say it that way, but yes."

  "Were there any witnesses to your argument?"

  "Mrs. French, the receptionist, may have heard us." I wrote the receptionist's name in my notebook.

  "All right. So, when did you find out about your brother's murder?"

  "It was about three a.m. the next morning. The police broke down the door and hauled me in for questioning."

  "So, that must have been after Ava had given her statement."

  "I don't know. This whole thing’s a nightmare. I think it’s hopeless."

  "It’s only hopeless if you're guilty. If you're innocent, there’s always some way to prove it."

  "Do you think you can?" Bob asked.

  "I...I could try, but this isn't my case or my jurisdiction. I’d have to pull some strings to have any way to dig deeper."

  Bob looked me in the eye, and I could feel his desperation. “I understand. Thank you for coming to talk to me."

  "It's no trouble," I lied. And just like that, I was right back in another investigation on my own.

  The guard waddled back through the door. "Time's up." His gruff voice made his announcement sound more like a belch than an order. I closed my notebook and watched as the guard led Bob back to the prison system that would destroy him if he gave it a chance.

  Chapter 7

  My father put down the book he was reading in his recliner with a sigh. "Avery, I'm asking this as a personal favor. I believe deep-down that Bob is innocent."

  I had been waiting for him to bring up Bob Maddox since I returned from my visit. "Dad, it's not that simple. We have no way of knowing what evidence the investigators found leading to Bob’s arrest. We know from Ava's interview that she identified Bob as the killer. His word against hers is not much to go on."

  "Why would Bob kill his own twin brother? Ralph was his meal ticket. It doesn't make sense."

  "I have to say that impersonating a homeless person to kill his brother seems extreme. Murders within families are more likely to be crimes of passion than premeditated, but there was a lot of money on the line. Maybe Bob thought Ava wouldn't recognize him. If that was the case, he could shed the costu
me and walk away, scot-free. It would be hard to trace any DNA evidence back to him since they're identical twins."

  "I still say it’s too farfetched. I’ve known Bob for decades. This isn't like him."

  "I'm sorry, Dad." I looked at the worry lines on my father's face and realized that he'd aged since I'd last visited. In fact, he looked even older, given how the stress of Bob’s indictment had worn on him.

  “Don't be sorry—do something about it. Call in a favor, go to the local PD, but do something!”

  "All right, Dad. I can't promise I'll take the case, but I'll see what I can do." If I took the case, it would be on the condition I could investigate it on the level—no tricks, no deceit, just old-fashioned police work.

  "Thank you, Avery. You don't know how much this means to me!"

  ***

  I scrolled through my phone, looking for Tori's number. When I found it, I stopped and looked at the digits for a long moment as our last conversation ran through my head. It would be sketchy working for Tori and the Central Cleanup Agency. Part of me wanted to know what had become of her brother, Ryan, but I was tired of being dumped into bad situations at the worst possible time. I was tired of being the hunted, and I had a feeling that whatever Tori had cooked up would put me too close to the action. I scrolled through my contacts again, wondering if I knew anybody else who could pull strings to get me on the case.

  After several minutes of searching, I was no closer to an answer. I stuffed my phone in my pocket and headed to the kitchen to eat some Christmas cookies. My dad always kept the kitchen stocked with baked goods. They were store-bought instead of my mom's homemade ones, but I was willing to try them. Three cookies later, I was still no closer to figuring out how to help Bob Maddox, but I'd poured myself a fresh cup of coffee and settled in at the kitchen table.

  I retrieved the phone from my pocket, chastising myself for spending too much time staring at a screen. I clicked on my email despite my trepidations. A reminder text message popped up, alerting me that my weekly therapy session was the following Thursday. I cleared the message, sure I'd canceled it. The surge of anxiety was always just below the surface, and I needed to keep my mind occupied to keep it shoved away. I read a few messages, deleting as I went before spotting one I didn't expect: a message from Genevieve Richards.

  While I worked undercover in the nowhere town of Smithville, Genevieve Richards had been my commanding officer. She was strict and tough—she wasn't a local police chief, after all. Part of the reason she'd given me such a hard time was to keep me from blowing her cover; she was an FBI agent.

  I opened her message.

  Avery,

  It's been a while. I hope this message finds you well. I thought you should know they convicted Molly Standards on three counts of fraud and second-degree murder. Her trial was the last one from the Smithville arsons, so the door should be closed on that case.

  Genevieve

  I took a deep breath. All the indicted suspects had gone to trial, and none of them had tracked me down. Maybe it was possible for me to take a case without it following me forever. I flopped over backward on Dad's couch and laughed. How had I not thought to contact Genevieve Richards about Bob Maddox's case? With her position at the FBI, it was possible she could pull the strings to give me clearance. I'd closed her last case, so maybe she'd help me now.

  I pushed reply.

  Genevieve,

  It has been a while. I hope things are going well. My father has asked me to look into the murder of Ralph Maddox because Bob Maddox is a family friend. While I hesitated to put myself back in the field, I feel an obligation to try. It could be considered a Federal matter since the case crosses state lines. Please let me know if there is a way I could investigate as a consultant.

  Thanks,

  Avery Rich

  I put the phone away and turned my attention to watching Christmas Specials with Milly. She seemed unimpressed but was more than willing to spend quality couch time with me. I zoned out, letting the traditional scenes unfold on the screen with no sense of urgency. I must have dozed off at some point because the next thing I knew, someone touched my shoulder. Disoriented, I screamed and reached for my attacker, moving automatically to yank the person down in an attempt to gain the upper hand.

  "Avery, stop!" my dad yelled. I opened my eyes and realized what I'd done. I was leaning against my father, pinning his arm in an unnatural position. I let go and backed away, my hand over my mouth.

  "Oh, Dad, I am so sorry. I didn't know...I mean, I’m usually by myself."

  Dad rubbed his wrist. "I'm all right, but what's gotten into you? You acted like I was here to murder you in your sleep."

  I opened and closed my mouth. Dad didn't need to know how close he was to my fear. "I…uh…it was just a reaction."

  "Lesson learned. Next time, I use a squirt gun," Dad grumbled, and he headed back to his bedroom.

  "I really am sorry!" I called back to him. What if I'd hurt him? Maybe it was too soon. Maybe I should go home where I'd be safe and wouldn't put anyone else at risk.

  I headed to the kitchen to fix a snack before returning heading to Dad’s computer. I was surprised to see that Genevieve Richards had already responded to my message:

  Avery,

  I’m glad to hear from you. I hoped you'd reach out to me when you were ready. We’ve been keeping an eye on that case, and I think it’s time to get involved. I’m making arrangements to bring you on board as a consultant on a trial basis. I'll be there to join you the day after Christmas. Your ID should be there tomorrow. I’m having it overnighted. Investigate, but try not to get yourself killed this time.

  I'll be in touch soon.

  Genevieve

  It seemed too easy. After what had just happened with Dad, I couldn't promise I was ready, but it looked like ready or not, I had a case.

  ***

  I shivered and pulled my sweater close around me. The temperatures were supposed to reach record lows overnight. I hunched over my Dad's aging computer, squinting at the glowing screen. It was the only source of light in the room. I wanted to help Dad's friend, but I wanted to venture out well-informed. Jumping in without any leads would get me nowhere.

  After only a few minutes of searching, a few things became clear: Ralph Maddox had lived the life of a reclusive billionaire. While his name was well-known, his face wasn't as well-documented. There were news stories about his company, Cybertech, and his charity donations, but there wasn't much else.

  Ava Lenore was an open book. Her days were well-documented through her endless social media posts and the media's obsessive stalking of her every move. I couldn't understand the appeal of living that kind of life, but the only times I'd ever attracted national attention were for testifying in a trial and as a wanted fugitive.

  I flipped through the endless tabloid reports featuring Ava Lenore for over an hour. The photos interested me more than the articles. I wanted to see the places she'd gone and the people she was around, though the way the photos were interpreted were useless and almost always based in rumor.

  I found photographs of two former love interests and made a note of their names, thinking they had a motive to attack after seeing her with another man. Both of the suitors were young and famous rather than older and rich like Ralph Maddox. The first was Alex Dorman, the heartthrob star of a popular soap opera. The second was Luke Combs, a viral You Tuber, best known for his video game commentary.

  A quick background search on both revealed that Alex had a record for being drunk in public, and Luke had been run-in for tax evasion. Neither ex had any violent offenses, but I still wanted to talk to them. The groomed image Ava displayed for her fan base was not likely who she was in person. Before I met her, I needed to hear other perspectives. I found several images of Ava with her exes—exactly what I was looking for. I clicked print and prayed my dad's printer still functioned. It looked like the same one he had when I'd graduated from college.

  After a long pause, the pr
inter made a grinding sound in protest before beginning the steady chugging of a typical ink-jet. “Thank you, machine!”

  I saved a copy of each picture and opened a new email to Genevieve:

  Please send me a current address on Luke Combs and Alex Dorman. I'd like to question each of them.

  A yawn caught me off guard. I hit send and headed for bed.

  ***

  The morning brought new lows in temperature with it. After borrowing my dad's Buick, I headed back out into the world of investigation, feeling constricted and bundled in too many layers. I pulled up at the address for Luke Combs that Genevieve Richards had sent me. The house was two stories and sprawled out over the double lot. For a twenty-five-year-old guy, he lived comfortably. I walked up to the oversized front door and rang the bell.

  After a long wait, a young lady wearing only a Santa's hat and a man's undershirt opened the door. "Well, ho, ho, ho." She looked me up and down, assessing me.

  The urge to shove past the blond bombshell was intense. "Err…happy holidays to you, too." I flashed the consultant's credentials Genevieve had sent over. "I'm Avery Rich. I'm here for an investigation, and I need to speak with Luke Combs."

  "Yeah, of course, you are, but the thing is, he’s a busy guy. I'm not sure he has time...for you."

  Before I could respond, I heard a man call out from the next room, "Amber, let the lady in."

  I shivered, but the cold was not the issue. Something about this whole situation was unsettling.

  Amber rolled her eyes. "Fine." She gestured for me to come in, pointed toward a professionally decorated and decidedly masculine living, and flounced off down a hallway. The room centered on a prominent home theater system with gaming consoles galore.

  Luke Combs sat in the living room. I was relieved to see that unlike Amber, he was fully dressed.