Dad looked up from his book. "Does that mean you found something?"
"Maybe." I scanned through the next few photos, but the media storm fizzled before the couple had made it very far. There were no photos near the crime scene. "I think I can rule somebody out, but it's not Bob."
"Well, that does no good."
"It might if that person can tell us something about what happened," I said.
"I sure hope you're right."
Chapter 10
After checking with Genevieve, I received a copy of the restraining order Ava had against Beck Oliver. The complaint was clear. Beck had been picked up for stalking Ava after he'd followed her consistently for several days about six months ago. While Beck claimed to have been innocent, Ava's ever-present entourage claimed they'd seen him everywhere, including peeping through the security fence at her home. The order stuck, but based on Ava's photos, the paperwork wasn't enough for Beck to get the message to leave her alone. I programmed the address into the GPS program on my phone before borrowing Dad's car and heading to find Ava's stalker.
Part of me dreaded meeting with Beck Oliver; he wasn't one to be dissuaded from his obsessions, and I had no desire to give him the attention he wanted.
After a short drive, I pulled into an apartment complex. The area was unsecured and looked to be in the low-budget category of the housing market. I drove around the area, looking at the labels on each unit, finding the one I was looking for in the third building. I parked and got out. Before heading to the door, I checked my gun and made sure I could take my ID out with little effort. I grabbed my bag, a pad of paper, a few of the printed photos I'd found of Beck Oliver, and a copy of the restraining order.
I knocked on the door, squaring my shoulders and pulling myself up to my full height to appear confident. My stomach felt anything but. I scanned the area around the apartment. There was a group of young men pointing at me and talking amongst themselves near the apartment, and I realized that the community might be even less safe than I'd originally assumed.
The door opened as far as the chain lock would allow. “Can I help you?” a man asked.
I held my ID up to the space between the door and the doorjamb. "My name’s Avery Rich. I need to ask you a few questions."
"Questions about what? I did nothing wrong."
"Well, that remains to be seen, but I’d like to eliminate you as a person of interest in a murder investigation."
"Eliminate me?” Beck stammered. “Murder investigation? I didn’t kill anyone!”
"I don't think you did, but I need to talk to you to make sure your story matches what we’ve already been told." Which was nothing except that he was a stalker.
"What the heck’s going on in this town? I bother no one, but the police keep turning up at my door acting like I'm some kind of criminal. I work. I pay taxes. Why can't you people see I'm just a regular guy trying to get by?"
"Well, from here, I can only see one of your eyes. If you let me in so we can have a talk, then you'll have a chance to convince me of your innocence."
Beck sighed. "Fine. Let's get this over with."
"Thank you," I said.
The door closed. I heard the lock slide before the door opened. Beck Oliver was a middle-aged, medium build, and not all that bad-looking in person. His apartment was clean and organized. I wondered what would drive a normal guy to fixate on someone who was unattainable. I didn't have to wonder long. As I watched, Beck spun around three times, turned the lights off and on five times while counting out loud, and then went to the kitchen sink in the studio apartment where he washed his hands over and over.
"Mr. Oliver, I appreciate your meeting with me." I stood in the entryway to avoid triggering any further rituals.
"Yeah, so, what is this about a murder?" Beck asked.
"Well, I'm sure you’ve noticed the news reports about Ralph Maddox's murder."
Beck ran his hand through his hair, ruffling his style in frustration. “I don't watch the news. I don't even own a television. But yeah, I know he's dead.”
"And how do you know he died?"
"Word gets around."
"So, how were you notified?"
"I could ask you the same."
I raised my eyebrows. This guy knew he was breaking the restraining order, but he had enough sense not to come out and admit it. I pulled out the photos of him getting out of the cab and following Ava the day she'd been attacked and handed Beck the stack. "These are copies of photos taken of Ava Lenore and Ralph Maddox the day they were attacked. Notice you're getting out of a cab in the first photo."
"How was I to know they were there? It’s a big city. Usually the rich and famous stay in the more exclusive areas."
"I bet it’s harder to watch them there. The gates would get in the way." I tried not to roll my eyes.
"I did nothing wrong."
"Look, I'm not here about you violating the restraining order." I handed him a copy. "We both know you did, and we both know it's not the first time. What I need to know about is what you saw that day."
"What I saw?" Beck Oliver was back on his feet, pacing. It was clear I'd struck a nerve.
"Yes, the photographer followed Ralph and Ava for a block or two, but then they were on their own. You and I both know that’s unlikely. I feel certain that if you were trailing them in these photos, you kept trailing them after that."
"Someone has to keep Ava safe. That stupid billionaire does nothing for her."
"I supposed that’s true, now."
"He's dead now. He won't cause any problems." Beck bent to pick up a magazine from the table. He brought it to his face and touched it to his forehead with reverence. He repeated this action several times before he continued. I noticed there was a picture of Ava Lenore on the cover. The next magazine in the stack also featured Beck's favorite star.
"Okay, so you were trying to keep Ava safe, but someone attacked her anyway. I'm not sure I understand."
"She was walking with that Maddox guy. They were cozy. She kissed him and whispered in his ear. I wondered if she was trying to get him to let go of her arm."
"Did she look upset? Was he dragging her?"
"No, but she’s a skilled actress. She wants nobody to know, but I can tell."
"So, they were walking down the sidewalk—what happened next?"
"They stopped in front of an alley. Ava was pointing at something."
"Could you see what she was pointing at?" I asked.
"No. I have to stay back or Ava gets mad. She must want to keep the way I feel a secret."
"So, you were keeping her secret. What did Ralph do when Ava pointed?"
"He looked in the alley. They talked to each other. Ralph yelled into the alley."
"Could you hear what he said?"
"Yes, his voice was loud. He said, 'You, there—are you all right?'."
"Did you hear an answer?" I asked.
"No, I had to stay back."
"So they wouldn't see you?"
Beck nodded.
"What happened then?"
"Ralph Maddox went into the alleyway. Ava followed him a bit behind. I thought I'd have a heart attack. Why would she go into an alleyway with that man?"
"I take it you don't like Ralph Maddox. Is there a reason he made you uncomfortable—besides the fact he was dating the woman you're obsessed with?
"He wasn't good to her. I saw him hit her once."
"You saw that happen, or you think you saw it?"
"Oh, I saw it. It happened at the pool in her backyard." Beck realized he’d said too much. He grabbed the magazine and began his paying homage routine.
"All right. I get it. You were watching her. I'm not here to take you in for following Ava. I'm here so you can help me find the person who attacked her. This way I can make sure that whoever did will go to prison so they can't hurt her anymore.
Beck nodded as he completed his ritual. "I want that. Whoever attacked her needs to go to prison."
"Yes, th
ey do, but I need to make sure they arrest the right person. If we put the wrong one in jail, the real attacker could try to hurt Ava or somebody else, so please, tell me what happened after the two of them went into the alleyway."
Beck wrung his hands. "It was quiet at first. I held back, but then Ava screamed."
"Could you see what was happening?"
"No, but I couldn't stand it, so I ran to the alleyway and peeked around the building. I couldn't let Ava see me that upset."
"Of course, not." I had to avoid spooking Beck. This could be the lead I needed to find out what had happened. "So, what did you see?"
"That man, Ralph Maddox, was on the ground, covered with blood. The dirty man was standing over him, next to Ava. He turned to her, grabbed her arm, and said, "The blood is on your hands." I thought he'd hurt her, too. I was trying to get my nerve up to stop him."
"But you didn't. Why not?"
"Because Ava turned to him and told him to get out of there. He let go of her and said for her to run away. Ava turned to run to the street, and I knew she'd see me, so I hid in a hedge. The man ran in the opposite direction."
"Was Ava hurt?" I asked.
"There was blood on her arm, but I think it was from the man grabbing her. He was covered in blood."
"What did the man look like?"
"He looked like he was down on his luck. He was dirty, and his hair was messy. He was about the same height as Ralph was when he stood next to Ava."
"Would you say he looked like Ralph?"
"Well, they were both middle-aged-looking white guys. They were about the same height and had the same color hair."
"Had you seen the man before?"
"I...I couldn't be sure. Everything moved so fast, and I didn't know what to do."
"One more thing: do you think Ava knew the man who attacked them?"
"She seemed to have known him, but she never said his name."
"Thank you, Beck. You’ve been a big help."
"I have?"
"Yes. I appreciate your time. I know it's tricky with the holidays just around the corner."
Beck walked me to the door. I wondered if he could break his obsession with Ava Lenore if only to keep himself out of prison. He was already a prisoner to his own rituals and rules.
I went over the interview in my mind over and over as I headed back to Dad's house. The attacker had known Ava. He'd told her that the blood was on her hands. He'd let her run away. Part of me wondered about the connection between Ava and the killer. I had a bad feeling that there was more at stake than a jealous brother.
Chapter 11
The alarm clock went off at seven a.m. I struggled out of my nice, warm bed and into the cold room. A hot shower was the first order of business before I threw on sweatpants and a sweatshirt and shuffled down to the kitchen for a cup of coffee.
Dad was already sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee and the newspaper. "Good morning. You're up mighty early."
"You asked me to investigate Ralph Maddox's murder."
"Actually, I asked you to prove Bob Maddox is innocent," Dad said, "but that’s beside the point. Today is Christmas Eve. The world is shutting down for the holiday. Surely, you don't plan to investigate today?"
“Christmas Eve? I guess it snuck up on me—”
"I see that. People are spending today with family and friends. Take today off to enjoy the season."
"I…well, I need to run a few errands."
"Last-minute shopper, huh? You got that from me. Your mother was prepared for months in advance."
I laughed. "That sounds like Mom. I miss her."
"So do I, especially at Christmas. At least you're here this year, so I'm not on my own."
I thought back to the Christmas before last. On Christmas day I'd worked patrol a thousand miles from my dad. I'd volunteered so that officers who were married and had families could have a day off. I'd spent last Christmas alone in my cabin, and a wave of guilt hit me—I hadn't thought of my dad, missing my mom and alone.
***
I got dressed and headed out into the cold, brisk day. The glitter and spangle of holiday cheer covered every surface, giving the closest shopping center a funhouse effect. I wanted to feel that spark of Christmas spirit that had come so easy to my mother, but the Maddox case made it hard to focus on the pageantry. I headed to the hardware section and found what my dad had wanted: a power tool system with interchangeable batteries and a common charger. My mom would've gotten him a sweater or cologne, but Dad always said he liked to receive something useful. I laughed as I thought of my only semi-handy father trying to take on repairs. His career in the legal field was a long stretch from a handyman, but despite his roundabout methods, he always managed to get things repaired.
I headed to the gift-wrapping department, and after a wait, I was prepared for Christmas. It was time to take care of another visit that had been weighing on my mind.
***
The jail was no more festive than I recalled, despite being Christmas Eve. The check-in process was less extensive. The guard seemed out of sorts, and I realized that working in a jail wasn't likely the way he wanted to spend Christmas Eve.
"All right, keep it short. I'm sure you have somewhere else to be," he grumbled as he led me to the conference room.
Bob Maddox was sitting at the table in shackles. "Avery, I didn't expect to see you here today. You should be at home, enjoying the holiday."
"That's what I hear, but I had to slip out and do some last minute shopping anyway, so I thought I’d stop by because I have some questions."
"Oh, yeah? I hope that means you’re making progress."
"Maybe. But I have to level with you: my dad asked me to look into this to clear your name, but I think we both know that finding the truth to this case and clearing your name may not be the same thing."
"I didn't kill my brother, Avery."
"And I hope that’s true, but someone did."
"And that person should be here, awaiting trial. Not me."
"There’s another eyewitness to the attack." I watched Bob's expression for a reaction. Instead of looking nervous, he brightened up.
"Well, if that isn't a Christmas miracle, I don't know what is. Who's the witness?"
I'd put myself in danger by testifying against powerful people and realized that Beck wouldn’t be able to protect himself from that kind of onslaught. "For now, I’m keeping that information confidential. I need to see how everything ties together before I can tell who and why."
"I understand that. So, what did you learn?"
"A white man the same size and build as Ralph Maddox with dark hair is the attacker."
"I see. So, it was somebody who matches my description."
"Yes, and I’d like to know if you can explain that."
"If you’re asking if it was me, the answer's no. I wouldn't kill anyone. That's just not who I am."
"You realize this testimony could be bad for you. Are you certain that nobody can confirm your whereabouts? You didn't go out or interact with anyone for any reason?"
"No, I can't think of any way I could prove it. I don't go out much. That’s normal for me. It’s dangerous out in the city."
"Your current lodging's even less safe."
"Let's just say they gave me a welcome I’ll never forget." Bob shivered as he recalled what he wasn't willing to say.
"So, you maintain you weren’t there?"
"It wasn't me. It may have been someone who resembled me, but that's hardly unique. I mean, a six-foot-tall white guy's not exactly exotic."
"I suppose that's true, but the odds of this being a coincidence are slim to none."
"I've been thinking the same thing. I can eliminate myself as a suspect, even if you can't. So, I have to take everyone else into account. What makes little sense is why the attacker would barely injure Ava and then kill Ralph while she escaped. Why would he let a witness walk away?"
"That’s a good question. I hope to ask Ava
about that inconsistency soon."
"You haven't interviewed her yet?"
"No. I want the interview to be on record, so I'm waiting for Genevieve Richards to come to town. We need her statement to be formal, so nothing slips through the cracks."
"I guess that makes sense," Bob said.
"Well, I'd wish you happy holidays, but considering the circumstances..."
"I understand. All things considered, I had a visitor. Most of the guys in here haven't heard from anyone on the outside in quite a while."
"That’s sad."
"It is. If I can ever get out of here, I have some ideas about how to change the prison system. It might just be my new cause."
"Fixing criminals isn't an easy challenge."
"No, but nobody says they want to grow up to be a prisoner. Maybe they need other options."
"It’s something to think about."
I said goodbye to Bob and headed back to my car. The fresh memory of the young men who'd tried to rob the department store and ruined their lives in the process haunted me. How many young people just like them saw no other options in life? It made me resent the corrupt and powerful even more. They have a choice, and they know better, but instead, they ruin people's lives.
***
Christmas morning came early. Both Dad and I headed to the living room to look at the lighted Christmas tree. Dad cranked up his ancient stereo and put on the Christmas albums I'd listened to as a kid. Hearing the music was a bit nostalgic. I watched as Dad spun the album and cleaned the vinyl with a velvet cushion, sipping my coffee and looking at the warm light of the Christmas tree. My eyes were drawn to ornaments my mother had chosen for the family each year. The memory of her was bittersweet, like a bit of joy I could remember but never again touch. The gifts I'd found for Dad were wrapped and waiting. He'd put a few gifts under the tree for me. It was different now. As a child, I'd been drunk on Christmas magic, but this homecoming to be with family was a nice, new comfort, one I hadn't realized I was missing.
“How was your event at the Club last night?” I asked Dad between albums.
Dressed to Kill Page 7
