Deadly Impulse

by Carolyn Arnold

  “Pack it up. Get it back to the lab. That’s our victim. Let me know the second anything comes back from the phone, including who she had been in contact with recently.” Madison stopped within a few inches of Sovereign. “Any doubt our cases are connected now?”

  She didn’t wait for a response but took off toward the department car. She and Terry had essentially three murders to solve, and step one, they were going to visit Zoe’s mother to give her the news about her daughter. After that, they’d go to Della Carpenter and let her know about her granddaughter. They were only required to notify one family member, but the thought of not handling the matter directly with Della wasn’t acceptable. She owed it to that poor woman, even if it meant being uncomfortable herself.

  -

  Chapter 24

  KIMBERLY BELL LIVED IN A white two-story house complete with a picket fence surrounding the property. The grass was short, the gardens weeded, and the flowers stood proudly despite the withering heat. The concrete path from the sidewalk to the front door appeared clean enough to eat off. The paved driveway had a smooth surface with no cracks that Madison could see. No dandelions poked up their heads in the lawn. Everything was pristine. Even the mailbox didn’t have a trace of dust, and the front windows were a threat to birds. They made Madison think of those commercials where unsuspecting crows slammed right into streak-free, clean glass.

  Madison lifted her sunglasses—which had been in the car—and pushed the doorbell. Seconds later, footsteps were moving inside the house.

  The door opened to a woman of startling resemblance to Zoe except for the difference in eye color. She appeared young enough to be the girl’s sister, but her eyes disclosed life experience. Kimberly was forty-two and had had Zoe when she was twenty-one.

  “Hello?” The woman looked first at Madison and then at Terry. Her chocolate eyes were sparking with fire.

  Madison held up her badge. Terry followed suit.

  “We’re—” They both started talking at once.

  “Hey, don’t I know you?” She pointed a finger at Terry. “Yeah, I think I do. I saw you at the hospital. When was it? Yesterday? Yes. Your wife was having a baby.” She paused to flash a smile. “How is she? The baby?”

  Terry’s mouth fell into a tight thin line. “Are you Kimberly Bell?”

  Her smile faded, and she crossed her arms. “I am. What’s this about?”

  “Can we come in? Do you have somewhere we can sit?”

  “Yes.” For a single word, it was awfully laden with sarcasm, as if to imply who doesn’t have a place to sit. “Please take your shoes off. The floor was just washed this morning.”

  The fragrance was a blend of air freshener, carpet powder, and cleaner. This woman was immaculate. Madison observed her wardrobe—a white pantsuit with a short-sleeved top paired with heels. Her makeup was applied with an expert touch, her eyelids painted a rich mocha outlined with black liner. Her hair was smooth and coiffed as if she had just stepped out of a high-end salon. She might dwell in a middle-class neighborhood, but she lived as if she were the upper crust.

  “This way.” She clicked away from them. Her heels must have been exempt from the no-shoes rule. Madison suspected the shoes had never been worn out of the house.

  Kimberly led them to a stiff-looking sitting room, all hard lines and neutrals. She sat in a low chair and crossed her legs. The soles of her shoes confirmed Madison’s suspicion—no scuffs. They were definitely only worn indoors.

  Madison and Terry each dropped into a chair.

  Terry met Madison’s gaze quickly, communicating that he had this under control. “Mrs. Bell.”

  “Please, it’s Miss Bell. I haven’t been a missus for a few years. It’s more fun this way.” She smiled at Terry as she ran her hand—slim fingers, thin wrist—down the arm of her chair.

  Madison’s stomach tossed in revolt. The motions, the eye contact—she was hitting on Terry. Seemingly the fact his wife was having a baby meant nothing to her.

  Terry’s pulse visibly tapped in his cheek. “We’re here because something has happened to your daughter, Zoe Bell. Her body was found this morning—”

  “Her what? No, this can’t be.” Kimberly’s fake lashes fluttered, tears wetting them, the odd one sliding down her cheeks. She rubbed her arms. “What happened?”

  “It’s still too early to tell, but we do believe she was murdered,” Terry said.

  Kimberly let out such a deep rush of air that it sucked the life from the room. She rose to her feet and rounded the chair she had been sitting in. She held the back of it. “Where did you find her?”

  “She was found a few blocks from here, posed in vagrant’s clothing.”

  Another gasp. “Someone dressed her in a homeless person’s—” Kimberly’s face went stark white with the exception of the blotches of red in her cheeks. “Why?”

  “We don’t know that yet. There are a lot of things we don’t know. It does look like she died of blunt force trauma,” Terry said.

  “Which still needs to be verified,” Madison added.

  Kimberly’s eyes went from Terry to Madison. “You have to find who did this.”

  “We have every intention of doing so, but there’s something else you might be able to help us with,” Madison said.

  “Anything.”

  “First of all, what was your relationship like with your daughter?”

  “With Zoe? I love—loved—her. She was beautiful and had a big heart. If only it had been a little smaller. I can’t believe this is happening.”

  Her daughter was murdered, but she couldn’t believe this was happening, what, to her?

  Madison swallowed her anger. “What do you mean by wishing Zoe had a smaller heart?”

  Kimberly stared blankly. “She liked men and they liked her back. You did see what she looked like. But I think she played things safe…before now anyway.”

  “Why do you assume a man killed her?” Terry asked.

  “I just thought it was likely the case.” Kimberly looked in the direction of a fireplace. On the mantle were several framed photographs of mother and daughter.

  “She was your only child?” Madison asked.

  Kimberly nodded.

  “So you valued your family?”

  “Of course. What kind of a thing is that to ask?” Kimberly’s hands clasped and unclasped before she slipped them into her pants pockets.

  Kimberly valued her family but left them in a time of loss to volunteer. That was hard to accept.

  “Where were you this past Wednesday evening?” That was the night Faye Duncan was killed.

  “Excuse me?”

  “You heard the question. Between six o’clock and midnight. Where were you?”

  “Well, I…I’m not sure. Probably on a run.”

  “Probably or you were?”

  Silence.

  “Last time. Where were you?”

  With the resulting silence, the hum of the overhead fan droned. Madison hadn’t noticed it before.

  Kimberly ran her long fingers down the length of her neck. “I was with a man.”

  “Your aunt was killed within that timeframe. I’m going to ask again—”

  Kimberly held up her hand. “His name is Donnie, but that’s all I’m giving you. He is a married man. If this got out—”

  “Your aunt and your daughter were both murdered within the span of a few days, and you’re worried about breaking up some guy’s marriage? It seems to me you should have worried more about that before you slept with the guy.” Rage was rushing through Madison, and it took all her willpower not to replace slept with the raw F-word.

  Tears streamed down Kimberly’s cheeks. “There’s no way I could have known that.”

  “Known what? That sleeping with married men breaks up marriages or that during one of your romps your aunt would be
murdered?”

  Kimberly’s face froze, the contortions taking an otherwise striking beauty and turning her into the beast. “Do you think that I killed my aunt and my daughter?”

  “It’s possible,” Madison said with a shrug, trying to draw the woman out, get her to contradict herself. “And let’s not forget the homeless man who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.” It was still early in the investigation, but it seemed a logical conclusion. He could have tried to protect Zoe and paid the ultimate price.

  “This is crazy.” Kimberly appealed to Terry.

  Terry turned to Madison, a question in his eyes: why was she making an accusation without anything to back up her suspicions? She had to admit a woman Kimberly’s size could have a rough time overpowering the man. And Zoe had been killed, dressed, and moved to where her body was dumped. Even to get her into a vehicle, that would all be dead weight. Add to that getting Faye Duncan into that wheelchair. But adrenaline could work wonders.

  “We’re also going to need your whereabouts for last night, as well as a list of all the places you volunteer,” Madison said.

  Kimberly rubbed her palms down her soaked cheeks and nodded. “Anything. I was with Donnie again last night. Was that when Zoe was killed?”

  Madison nodded. “And the places you volunteer?” She gestured for Terry to take out his phone, ready to note the companies.

  “I volunteer at the abortion clinic in Peace Liberty Hospital.”

  “You know, your aunt was an active anti-abortion protestor,” Madison said casually.

  Kimberly nodded. “That, I knew.”

  “Did you get into an argument maybe? Things got out of control—”

  “No!”

  Madison locked eyes with Kimberly.

  “And where else?” Terry asked, his jaw rigid.

  Kimberly took a deep, heaving breath and pulled her eyes away from Madison. “Only one other place. The soup kitchen down on Fifth.”

  “The soup kitchen?” Madison reiterated. This was a little too convenient.

  “Uh-huh.”

  Kimberly seemed clueless as to the fact that a body was found thirty feet away from the place. Of course, she might not have been as oblivious as she let on.

  Madison narrowed her eyes at the woman. “We’ll need Donnie’s last name and a way to reach him. Now.”

  -

  Chapter 25

  IT KILLED MADISON TO WALK AWAY. She wanted to slap cuffs on Kimberly Bell right then and take her downtown. But there was the matter of evidence, and at this point, they had nothing to hold the woman. On the surface, she was the least likely suspect—beautiful, put-together, and organized, and a community volunteer. The kind of person most should emulate. Except for being a mistress. That was a huge exception.

  “Just promise me you’ll keep your mind open to other possibilities,” Terry said as he got into the passenger seat.

  He knew her too well. “We have to call Donnie Holland, see what he says about Kimberly’s alibis.”

  Terry continued. “I agree, but Kimberly also mentioned that Zoe had men in her life and, from the sound of it, more than one. Maybe someone got jealous.”

  “Enough so that they killed her aunt? And first?” Madison pulled her seat belt across herself and faced Terry. “What makes you so sure Kimberly isn’t the murderer? Her aunt dies and she leaves her grieving mother and daughter to fulfill a charity obligation.”

  “Let me ask you this: what was Zoe’s attitude about that when you talked to her?”

  She thought back and sighed. “I don’t think she understood why her mother left them to volunteer.”

  “It didn’t seem like she was upset by the fact she left, in any way?”

  “I don’t know if I’d say upset per se. It was hard to tell. She was grieving over the loss of her great-aunt.”

  “All right, then. Let’s say she was fine with it.”

  “Ter—”

  He held up a hand. “Listen to me. Please.”

  “Fine.” Adrenaline knotted her gut without mercy.

  “We’ll head back downtown and find out what’s come in so far,” he said.

  She shook her head.

  “What do you mean, no?”

  “Just that. First, they won’t have much in the way of results yet. Second, when they do, I expect that I’ll get a call,” she said.

  “And since when are you patient?”

  “I’m…” Her gaze locked on the front step. Kimberly Bell had come out and was hugging herself in the sunlight.

  “Leave it alone, Maddy.”

  “We have to go see Della Carpenter and let the poor woman know about her granddaughter.”

  “You know that’s not our responsibility. We’ve notified next of kin.”

  “I know. It’s just something I need to—” Her cell phone rang, cutting off her sentence. “Knight.”

  “What’s this about three murders being connected? You don’t think to pick up your damned phone? Of course, why should I expect any communication from you?”

  Oh, she really wasn’t in the mood for him.

  She held the phone away from her ear, trying to collect herself. “Sarge, nothing indicates that we have a serial killer.”

  “Three bodies are leaning to the opposite of that statement, Knight. First, the old lady, then the girl and a bum.”

  His ignorance certainly hadn’t decreased with the lack of McAlexandar’s presence. And here, she thought McAlexandar fueled it in Winston.

  “I’m not fully certain how the man fits in, but there’s something that connects these women,” she said.

  “Yes, the murderer.”

  She paced her breathing. “There’s nothing to indicate the work of a violent serial killer.”

  “Three bodies in the morgue would say otherwise.”

  “One collapsed of a heart attack and the other two were struck in the head.” She wanted to throw the phone, and with Kimberly watching them from her front stoop, Madison knew she needed to get out of the woman’s driveway. “I’ve gotta go.”

  “Don’t you hang up on—”

  She ended the call and tossed her cell into the console.

  “You hung up on him, didn’t you?”

  She didn’t answer Terry and put the car into reverse. “Call this Donnie Holland on our way to Della Carpenter’s.”

  Her anger turned her vision red. Curse Sovereign for opening his big mouth before she had a chance to fill in the sergeant. Sovereign was always worried about appearance while she concerned herself with getting the job done. And sadly, right now, she wasn’t sure how to go about that exactly. Hopefully by the time they finished with Della, they’d have someone to talk to from the contact list in Zoe’s phone. There was also Angels Incorporated where Zoe worked, but one thing at a time.

  -

  Chapter 26

  OFFICERS HADN’T FOUND ANY SIGNS of a struggle at Zoe’s house—inside or outside. Zoe wasn’t killed there. Just another indicator pointing to the alley.

  Madison and Terry were back at the station at their desks. Terry had gotten ahold of Donnie Holland, and he had confirmed Kimberly’s alibi.

  Telling Della Carpenter about her granddaughter was one of the hardest things Madison had done in her years as a cop. While every notification of kin was unpleasant, painful, and even heartbreaking, going back to the same person within twenty-four hours was enough to rend the heart in two.

  Della had known before they’d arrived, though. Her cheeks had already been wet, her eyes red. She had been shivering in her warm house. Kimberly Bell had called her, delivering the news by telephone. What kind of a daughter did that when she lived in the same city as her mother?

  None of it went far toward improving Madison’s opinion of the woman. She might volunteer her time, but she had a selfish streak. A
ccording to Della, her daughter had been too distraught to drive.

  So take a cab? That had been Madison’s thought, but she’d kept her mouth shut.

  Della had turned out to be as much at a loss regarding Zoe’s murder as she was Faye’s. According to her, neither death made sense, and it was almost as if a random person spotted them and fixated on them.

  It was the motivation that didn’t make sense. Faye was in her sixties, Zoe in her twenties. Then there was the homeless man who was aged somewhere between the two women. So far, there wasn’t a common denominator that would attract the same killer.

  Zoe’s murder struck Madison as a passion kill—in the heat of the moment. With Faye, the person had watched her die, put her in a wheelchair, and positioned her outside the hospital property. The only similarity was that neither body was left with ID.

  The vagrant may just have been in the wrong place at the wrong time. He also provided the killer a means to conceal Zoe’s identity. Yet, as far as they knew, Zoe’s clothing wasn’t found in the alley. Did the killer take them?

  The man’s body and Zoe’s had also been found a twenty-minute drive apart. Whoever killed them had a vehicle—just as Faye’s killer would have needed to in order to steal the wheelchair. They likely had wheeled Faye to the final spot to be less conspicuous.

  A question applied to both Faye’s and Zoe’s murders: why take ID but leave their bodies somewhere to be easily found? The sign strapped to Faye’s chair and the fact that she was left where she used to protest abortion seemed indicative that the killer was making a statement, but what exactly?

  Surely, they’d get an update on Zoe’s phone contacts soon. They needed to figure out who she was close to, who her friends were, if she had a boyfriend. When they had asked Della, she hadn’t known any names and had broken down over not having had as close a relationship with Zoe as Faye had had.

  “Terry?”

  “Yeah.” He didn’t take his eyes from his computer monitor. Madison wondered what he was doing but didn’t care enough to ask.