Madison cracked the door open and tucked her head inside the house. “The twist lock built into the handle was the only one locked,” she tossed back to her colleagues.
Terry stood immediately behind her. Cynthia and Mark were at the base of the front stairs.
“So the perp got her into the chair and pulled the door locked behind him,” Terry said.
“That’s assuming she died here.” Madison was trying not to get excited. “As for going out the front, there’s a flaw. There’s no wheelchair ramp, and I can’t imagine them taking Faye’s dead body down those stairs.”
“True, and her neighbors would notice,” Terry reasoned.
He had a point, but she was confident they’d discover an explanation.
Madison and Terry did a quick sweep of the property before Cynthia and Mark entered the home. And there had definitely been a struggle in the kitchen. One smashed mug on the floor. A second one remained intact on the counter. The electric kettle remained full, and a teapot was awaiting water that never came.
Cynthia took pictures of the scene. Then, gloved, Cynthia lifted the lid on the pot to find two tea bags inside.
So Faye had gotten as far as starting the tea, but from the time the person had entered the home until Faye entered the kitchen, things had taken a turn for the worse… Plus, it was now clear that the perp was someone Faye had known and trusted. Tea was offered to guests, not intruders.
Madison paced through the area. The kitchen had a square layout with the sink facing an outside wall with a window overlooking a patio. A counter separated the scullery area from the dining space, where there was a table for four.
“What are you thinking, Maddy?” Terry came up next to her, his phone out and his finger hovering over the screen.
She glanced at what he had already noted and pointed to it. “The same thing you’re thinking.”
“She knew her attacker.”
“Exactly. But what makes someone kill an old lady?” Madison asked.
“What makes someone kill, period?”
She nodded, giving the rhetorical question to Terry. He had a point. Expanding on that, thinking of a world without murder was a foreign concept, and Madison suspected that’s all it would remain—a concept. There would always be someone who sought bloodshed as the solution to a problem, as being a justifiable action or reaction.
But why Faye Duncan?
The hypotheticals fired. There was a heated argument that had turned physical. The bruises on Faye’s wrists proved that much. What if the person hadn’t intended to go that far, and when Faye had her heart attack, the person panicked as Terry suggested earlier? The person could have a past record. Maybe they didn’t want to go back to prison. She shared this with Terry.
“It’s possible, but it’s the mentality of a hit-and-run driver,” Terry said.
“There’s no excuse for—”
Terry held up his hand to silence her, and she glared at him but remained quiet.
He continued. “There’s that moment when one must choose between fight and flight.”
“You’re thinking it’s as simple as them choosing flight? Then why the wheelchair? They could have just left her in the house.”
“Has anyone taken responsibility for or even reported her death, other than the jogger? I’d say the perp chose flight. But it doesn’t necessarily mean the person had a record.”
She watched him peck RECORD and then spoke. “Okay, let’s say this person was an average citizen with no record. Things got out of hand, they freaked out thinking that they killed her. Maybe calling nine-one-one didn’t even occur to them.” The defense was ludicrous. Regardless of the fight-or-flight response, if someone didn’t have anything to hide they would have dialed 911. She shared her reasoning with Terry and expanded on the thought. “Whoever did this to Faye had something to protect.”
“You mean their butt?”
A smirk tugged at her lips. Leave it to Terry to verbalize it without any hint of profanity. He detested foul language more than a priest on Sunday. It was how she felt about spoken clichés. “You mean, their ass? Yes. But maybe it’s even more than that.”
“Like what?”
She shook her head. “That, I don’t know yet.”
“And since when do you try to justify a crime?”
His question rendered her mute for a few seconds. The judge within found her guilty—she had just run through the possibilities while trying to assign reason. Some might perceive that as justification. But her drive had always been to obtain justice for victims, not justify the killer’s actions.
Now, she’d be lying if she said she never thought of exacting revenge. The stark truth was that inside every human mind lives a killer. If she were to take that ill-fated shot again, Constantine would be rotting six feet under. As the thoughts fired, she realized Terry was staring at her.
“I’m not justifying whoever did this at all,” she said.
He remained silent, his gaze fixed on her.
“Would you cut that out? I’m fine.”
Terry pressed his lips. “You’re fine? I never doubted that you were. But most of us prefer to be better than fine.”
She used to say fine a lot right after everything had happened, and now it seemed to be back. An awkward silence fell between them, and Madison glanced over at Cynthia. She was staring back at her and Madison wondered how much she had overheard.
Madison gloved up and slid the patio door open. She really needed some fresh air. Just as she began to step outside, she stopped. The door had been unlocked.
She exited onto the deck, which was only about a foot and a half from the ground. There was one low step straight ahead. To her left and next to the deck was the end of the paved driveway.
Madison looked around. There was also a high fence that would’ve afforded Faye complete privacy. Enough that the perp could have brought the wheelchair inside the fence, taken it up onto the deck, wheeled it into the house, loaded up Faye, and managed to roll the chair down the single step and sweep right down the paved walkway from the deck to the drive.
Madison surveyed the space again, this time on a more detailed level. Faye had a nice little oasis set up out here. Flower baskets hung from wrought iron brackets placed on the fence, and potted plants added color to the small deck. An electric water fountain resembling a creek with rocks was situated next to a glass-top table with two chairs. One was nestled up to the table and one was pulled back.
Had someone been sitting there recently?
She bit her lip, thinking. Maybe she was trying to see something when there wasn’t anything to see. Faye had lived alone.
She studied the chair’s design. It was low and angled back. She looked at the other end of the deck where there was another chair. That one was higher off the ground. Three chairs, one woman.
And Faye had recently had hip surgery. She would’ve given preference to the latter chair. So who sat on the one that was pulled out? Was it their perp?
She tapped first on the window over the sink and then on the patio door to get everyone’s attention.
Madison filled them in on her observations. Terry watched her, uncertainty lingering in his eyes. She knew she had left him in the house, wondering about her stability.
“Detective Knight?” Mark was in the garden that was off to the side of the deck. His gloved hand held tweezers and a clear evidence bag. Inside was a cigarette butt.
Cynthia paused from dusting the patio door for prints and looked at Madison. “There’s nothing in the house to indicate that Faye smoked. Maybe the one from the crime scene wasn’t a coincidence.”
-
Chapter 15
IT HAD BEEN A MONTH since Heaven’s Care worked for Faye Duncan. But it didn’t mean that whoever was behind her death didn’t work there. In fact, Madison had forty dollars in favor of som
eone there being responsible. They would have been familiar with her house, and Faye would have trusted them and wouldn’t have hesitated to make tea for them. Accepting that someone in health care may have caused the old lady’s death chilled Madison. Nurses were in such a position to help people—to save lives, not take them.
The Heaven’s Care office was located downtown in a business district that catered mostly to lawyers, accountants, and other of that professional ilk. The company was housed in a century-old house that was large by modern-day standards.
A woman greeted them with a smile and chipper “hello” when they graced the doorway of Heaven’s Care’s second-floor suite. The space didn’t speak of catering to the public, as it resembled a home office more than anything. Madison figured it existed for the sake of a business card. The address legitimized them more than a service run out of a home. It was also likely that the government was a factor, given they were in the health care profession.
“We’re detectives with Stiles PD.” Madison pointed to her badge, which hung from a length of silver chain and nestled against her chest.
The police presence didn’t seem to faze the woman. Her facial features remained relaxed, placid. There was a pleasant gleam in her eyes. “What can I do for you?”
“We’d like to speak with whoever was Faye Duncan’s nurse,” Madison said.
“She was a sweetheart.” Her gaze drifted between them. “Wait a minute… Did something happen to her?”
Was a sweetheart? Past tense?
“You tell us,” Madison said.
“When I said was a sweetheart—” she swallowed audibly “—I meant when I worked… Did something happen to her?” The woman turned to Terry.
“What’s your name?” Terry asked.
“Jody Marsh.”
Madison tried not to react. Marsh was the surname of the man who had found Faye Duncan. He had claimed never to have seen her before. The two of them could have worked together, or out of love for Jody, he “found” Faye’s body.
“Is there something you should be telling us, Mrs. Marsh?” Madison asked.
“No… I don’t think so.”
“You are married to Erik Marsh. Am I right?”
“Yeah, I—” Jody’s legs buckled and she reached for a corner of the desk. She slinked along the edge, bracing against it for support. She dropped into the chair. “Erik told me that he found— Oh my God. I had no idea it was…” She raked her fingers through her hair as she leaned forward, facing the surface of her desk.
Her nails were clear-polished but had a yellowish tinge to them. That, combined with the subtle scent of nicotine, confirmed Jody was a smoker.
“When was the last time you saw Faye Duncan?” Madison was talking to Jody’s hair. If she stared long enough, maybe it would prompt the woman to lift her head.
Seconds later, it worked. Jody sat back, caressing her stomach. “The last time I was there was a month ago. I can get you the exact date.” She made a movement toward a filing cabinet.
“In a minute. Are you sure you didn’t pop in for a visit after that?” Terry asked.
Jody nodded. “I had thought about it, but as nice as Faye was, she was set in her ways. As far as she was concerned, she didn’t need a nurse and she resented my existence—at least in that capacity.”
“She knew you in another capacity?” Madison asked.
“I need to watch the words I use. I just meant that she couldn’t see past the fact that I was there to take care of her. She hated what I represented. But she’s not—wasn’t—the only patient who claims to have everything under control when they don’t.”
Madison could relate to Faye. It wasn’t easy to admit needing help. “What about your husband? Would he have ever met her?”
“No, I don’t see why.”
Based on what she was saying, Erik’s testimony that he’d never seen Faye before seemed truthful.
“Did anyone besides yourself work for Faye?” Madison asked.
Jody shook her head.
“You said that Miss Duncan was ‘set in her ways,’” Terry said.
“You probably know that she protested abortion up until her surgery?”
Madison nodded.
“I always figured she’d go back after she healed,” Jody said.
“Did she ever tell you why she protested?” They knew the answer from Faye’s fellow protesters, but Madison was gauging Jody’s knowledge.
“No. As I said, she resented me for what I represented. She didn’t speak to me as she would other people. She saw me as an inconvenience.” The last word was tinged with sadness.
“You were around when she had visitors?” Madison asked, picking up on the “as she would other people” comment.
“Not so much visitors, but her sister and great-niece would come over.”
“Everyone speaks to family differently.” But relatives were usually treated worse than friends or strangers…
“You wouldn’t say that if you saw her with Zoe. That’s Faye’s great-niece. The two of them had such a strong bond. It was magical watching them in a room together.”
Madison recalled how Della had mentioned how much the death would impact the girl. Madison didn’t know how old she was, though, and made a mental note to check into it. Della was going to contact her family to provide notice, but it would still be prudent for Madison and Terry to pay Zoe a visit, depending on her age.
“I see that you smoke.” Madison pointed to Jody’s fingernails.
Jody withdrew her hands, lowering them beneath the desk. “It’s a habit I can’t seem to shake.”
“There was a cigarette found next to Miss Duncan’s body and on her property.”
“She was found near Peace Liberty Hospital, right? That’s what Erik told me. It’s not because I was there. Well, I’d have no reason to go that way, and I don’t like to toss the butts just anywhere,” Jody rambled.
“You never would have smoked at Miss Duncan’s and tossed one into the grass or garden?” Terry asked. “You’re sure of that?”
“Faye’s property? I’m most certainly sure. I wasn’t to smoke anywhere near or around her. She detested the habit. Said it was dirty and self-destructive. I respected her enough to hold off until after my shift. I’d light up in my car. And by then, well, I was shaking for one.”
“You never took a break during the day?” Madison asked.
“No, Faye never would have tolerated it. She made that clear from day one. As I said, she was set in her ways. She knew what she wanted and didn’t want, what she liked and didn’t like. She asked if I smoked the first time we met, and she made it clear that if I even smelled like a cigarette, my employment would be over—not just with her but altogether. She must not have realized that I own the company.”
Madison had heard enough. Whoever had smoked that cigarette in Faye’s backyard had done so after she was dead. Faye and Jody clearly hadn’t been close, but the latter had respect for the older woman. The cigarette butt still had the potential to disprove her story, of course, and the truth of that matter would lie in the forensic findings.
“Would you be willing to provide us with a DNA sample?” Madison asked.
“I have nothing to hide, but I also know my rights. I won’t without a warrant. Sorry.”
“Will you at least tell us where you were between six o’clock Wednesday night and two o’clock Thursday morning?”
“I was at home watching TV and then went to bed with Erik.”
-
Chapter 16
“SHE SEEMED PRETTY UPSET TO be involved in Faye’s death,” Terry said from the passenger seat as they left Heaven’s Care. “Did you want to pay me now or later?”
Madison maneuvered the department sedan around a slow-moving vehicle and cut Terry a sly sideways look. “It’s too early to say for sure. Husband
and wife are each other’s alibis. That doesn’t sound off to you?”
“They say they were together for the wee hours of the night. I’m in bed with my wife at that time, too. Wait a minute. You don’t have the money, do you? My son’s almost here.”
“Terry, if anyone owes money, it’s you. Faye died in her home. You said she passed away outside the hospital.”
“But then you upped the bet.” He held up his hands. “Fine. Back to business. You’re telling me you still suspect her? I should have known better. You believe all are guilty until proven innocent.”
She preferred to consider herself diligent.
“Let’s just wait and see where the evidence takes us.” She wished she could simply follow her gut, but her second-guessing nature wouldn’t allow for the leniency. And what harm did it do to view the woman as a suspect until she was cleared? None. She owed Faye Duncan as much—to investigate without prejudice, to push until justice was achieved. “I also say we get a warrant for Jody’s DNA.”
“Well, it’s not going to line up. She didn’t do it,” Terry mumbled.
Madison glowered at him, but the expression met with the back of his head. He was facing the window. She flicked a glance at the clock on the dash: 1:30 PM. They had left Cynthia and Mark at Faye’s house with the instruction to thoroughly scour the place. Madison wanted to know everyone who came in and out of the house in the last few months. It was apparent Cynthia still didn’t have anything to report or she would have called. It didn’t mean evidence wasn’t necessarily there; it just may not have been processed yet.
In regard to prints, Madison suspected there would have been quite a few pulled. They would be run against databases back in the lab after all the evidence was collected. And even then, there might not be anything to go on. Madison didn’t hold a strong conviction that their perp had a record. While most criminals didn’t progress from law-abiding citizen to murderer by skipping the in-between steps and less serious charges, it was altogether possible. Either they weren’t caught before or the situation with Faye had escalated and resulted in a negligent homicide. The disposal of the body was another issue.
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