Samuel Blevins lived in what the city fathers referred to as the culturally and historically gentrified portion of Madison. In other words, some old pier and beam houses had been made to look newer with plastic fences and bright trim. Amidst those, a few new concrete slabs had been poured onto small lots, and houses built to three levels, reaching for the sky. Samuel lived in one of the older homes still in its original package. When Maude had called, asking for a short visit, Samuel was more than eager to oblige. She felt sympathy for the man whose safety record had been blown to bits, and yet who had killed no one. The truth hadn’t been published while waiting for the ME to determine cause of death.
She knocked and waited a minute for it to be answered. The tall engineer opened the door and stood there, somewhat stooped as he invited her into his home, motioning toward a small living area with a love seat and two recliners. She chose the love seat and made herself comfortable. The large recliner groaned as Samuel sat down and extended his feet.
“Mr. Blevins, I met you the day of the incident, if you recall,” she said.
“Yes, ma’am, I recall real well. What a terrible day that was.” He seemed distracted as he talked, staring toward the front door and its adjacent windows. “I mean, it wasn’t as if I had never seen an accident on the rails. Too many of them have come my way, or close to it. It was seeing her lying there, and not being able to stop the train in time took me by such surprise. I’ve had a hard time sleeping since then.”
“I suspect you might,” she said. “I’m sorry to make you relive it, but I have a couple questions about the victim. Do you recall her from that morning, early?
“No, ma’am. First I saw her was after we were on the way. Made a couple of stops then went for coffee on a fifteen-minute layover in Burton. She was pretty, ma’am, and I couldn’t help but notice her,” he said, embarrassed, as though he had committed an offense. “She was sitting in the observation car, just staring off through the glass, like she was studying strong about something. You know, my people are great watchers, they can stare a hawk right out of the sky with no trouble at all. That woman seemed to be carrying a weight on her mind, kept her eyes on the glass, like she wished she could jump through it. I went on down to the food car and grabbed myself a little snack then hurried back. Don’t like to leave the works with my assistant for too long. She wasn’t in the car when I went back. Don’t know where she went. The next time I saw her was on the side of the tracks.”
Maude was contemplating someone bringing a hawk down with a stare and almost missed the last part of Samuel’s conversation. She took her mind from the soaring bird back to the train tracks and nodded for a minute.
“Did you notice anything out of place with the woman?”
“Well, ma’am, I didn’t spend but a little time, for as you know, an engineer’s job is to get the passengers safely to their destination. That woman wasn’t looking for friends; she didn’t look at all. From what I saw, she was busy with her own thoughts. It’s just a shame she had to die. Thing I can’t figure is how did she do that?”
“What’s that, Mr. Blevins?”
“How did she manage to be on my train, and die under the wheels at the same time.”
“It wasn’t the same woman, Mr. Blevins. Eve Devine died before she was put on the tracks, but the woman you saw wasn’t Eve Devine. She was an imposter.”
“Oh my,” Samuel said. “I’m awfully confused. Why would someone pretend to be a dead woman?”
“That’s what I have to find out, Mr. Blevins. It’s a conundrum, nowadays, trying to figure out which people are the bad ones, and which ones are the good ones. Sometimes they all look the same and you can take your pick. In this case, Eve Devine was a good one, and someone murdered her then set up a situation with a decoy so we would think it was the dead woman.”
“Who would do such a thing? What kind of psycho would mess with my train?” Samuel was angry now; the shame of killing the woman gone, he was seeking retribution. “Whatever I can do to help, detective, I’m ready.”
“Remember all you can about the woman you saw. We need to find her. She isn’t safe, wherever she is. The person who set all this in action won’t keep her around long once she isn’t any use to him.”
“I know she had red hair, longish, and seemed to be put together real well, seemed to be about thirty, thirty-five. Wait, I remember now, she had on that green blouse with short sleeves. I saw a tattoo on her arm. Seems I remember it being one of them Peter Pan kind of tattoos.”
“You mean a fairy, with wings?” Maude asked. “Remember colors, or was it black ink?”
“Colors, it was real pretty, kind of like a hummingbird and Peter Pan at the same time.”
Maude considered the information and wondered how it would play out once they found the woman. A badly done fairy tattoo maybe, or an even worse hummingbird, but at least it was something.
“That’s good information, Mr. Blevins. Real good. Maybe we can use it to find the woman.”
“I hope you can,” Samuel said, leaning forward in the recliner.
While Maude was interviewing Samuel Blevins, Joe sought out Anna Avery, and found her at her office, a small nook inside the Center for Change, the political office of the mayor. Joe had gone by the house, and the maid told him how to find the boss-lady after he showed his badge, and made it an official request. Driving the city car to her office reminded him of his first days working with Maude in her old car. It was beat-up and as ill-used as she had been. He laughed, remembering the first time he had ever seen her up close. She was lying on the floor, unconscious after a perp had hit her from behind. Joe remembered how mad she had been at being ambushed.
The trip to see Anna Avery was important, for he needed to ask her some questions Maude hadn’t thought of, or at least that was the reason he would give. Sometimes one detective could find out things another couldn’t. Maude was too savvy to let someone pull the wool over her eyes for a long period of time, and if she was really suspicious of someone, they seldom knew it until too late. Anna Avery, according to Maude, had seemed entirely too pleased with herself, enjoying the interview Maude conducted at the residence. Unknowingly, Anna had brought attention upon herself that might not have been there, had she played it a little more innocently. “Women,” he said. “How can a man understand them?”
Knocking on the door as a courtesy, Joe waited a moment then pushed inward, to find a very pretty young woman sitting behind a desk. She didn’t notice him at first as he moved toward her. Joe noticed her expression seemed disgusted, as though she had smelled something bad before he came inside the room, but the floral fragrance of her perfume belied that.
“Hello, sorry to bother you. Mrs. Avery?” he said, all in one breath.
“Yes, who are you?” she asked, removing small, rectangular glasses, her expression changing from disgust to curiosity.
“Detective Joe Allen, Homicide.” He looked around the room, noticing first the size of the small room, then, conversely, how richly it was furnished. “This your office, Mrs. Avery? It’s where your maid sent me.”
“Yes,” she said, leaning back in her chair, pushing away from the desk, crossing one knee with another. “How can I help you?”
“What kind of work you do here?”
“I am directing the next campaign. Mayor Richards will be running again. My job is to make sure he wins.”
“Does the mayor of this city really need someone with your style to win the vote?” Joe was sincere. “I assume you have a staff?”
Anna smiled at him and stood. She was his height, fully six feet in her white sandals, tall, even without the enhancement of three-inch heels. A beautiful woman who knew her power over men, she moved to his side with a graceful shifting of space. The thick smell of flowers suddenly reminded him of funerals.
“Do I look like I need a staff?” she asked, staring into his eyes.
“I, uh, assumed, you know, that you would have some help,” he managed, his throat
suddenly dry.
“What can I do for you, detective?” she asked, breathing softly near his ear. “I’m all yours.” The fingers of her left hand touched inside the collar of his shirt. Shining dark hair with hints of gold draped over her right eye as she tilted her face to him.
Joe had visions of Jessica Rabbit from the animated film standing before him. He was having some trouble concentrating.
“Could I sit down?” he asked, looking for a chair.
“Of course,” she said, leaning against him, “if you really want to.”
“Uh, yes, please,” he said, trying to regain composure as he gently removed her fingers from his neck, and fell into the hard chair.
This wasn’t supposed to be difficult. He was the one in charge.
“Okay, sit,” she said languidly, moving backward to the edge of the desk. The slick top of the workplace pressed into her shapely bottom, causing the short skirt to rise higher still, exposing tanned, slender thighs. Joe’s eyes were dragged downward to his nemesis’ hot-pink toenails, glaringly bright, shining through the openings in her sandals. He quickly looked at his notes, desperately hoping to break whatever spell she was casting over him. When he was married to Sheila, he’d loved her toes painted in bright colors. The memory kept trying to resurface, but he forced it down.
“Mrs. Avery, a few years ago, you were charged with two misdemeanors. How were you able to get around those and work in a public office?”
“This is a private office, detective. Oh, may I call you Joe?” she asked, the smile back.
“Sure, uh, yeah. No problem,” he said. “How well did you know Marlin Thompson?” he asked, forcing his eyes off the skirt that kept rising as she changed position.
“Not well, Joe,” she said, leaning toward him, the thin fabric of the blouse pressing tight against her breasts, revealing the shape of large nipples beneath.
He glanced at her face and saw the smile of a predator—there was no humor in it, only hunger. She had him on the run. How many times had he done the exact same thing to a woman he hoped to conquer?
“What does that mean, not well? Were you on speaking terms?”
“Yes,” she said, “but not socially. I am, after all, a married woman. Marlin took care of the business for us. He always knew his limitations. Do you know yours, Joe?” Her teeth were almost bared, ready for the kill. He could see it coming. Joe jumped from the chair and made his way to the door, excusing himself as he turned away.
“Thank you, Mrs. Avery, we may have more questions later.”
“Come back, Joe, when you have more time to stay,” she taunted, the gleam in her eyes warning him to stay away, or be consumed.
He went straight for the car, breathing hard as though he had run a marathon. “What the hell just happened?” He checked himself for missing body parts. “She’s a dangerous woman,” he thought aloud.
The Cop Shop was buzzing with visiting narcotics officers from MacArthur. Madison investigators had located a large meth lab, south of the city in a mobile home community, and most local officers had been pulled to help out. Maude was in her office, content to watch the melee through the glass windows. She imagined their excitement as they geared to make a bust, and wished them well, but years of experience had taught her to stay out of other sections’ business. They didn’t appreciate interference from the untrained. She lifted her eyes and watched as Joe came through the door. He appeared to be harried—an unusual expression for him. Waiting as he entered the office, Maude sat quietly, sipping old coffee and wondering how his morning had gone. She thought she would start with her own visit to Samuel Blevins and bring Joe up to date on her part of the investigation. During the tale, he seemed distracted.
“Your turn,” she said, finally. “How did your interview go with Mrs. Anna Avery?”
“Uh, fine,” he said, headed to the coffee pot. “I found her office. She works for the mayor’s campaign,” he said without looking into Maude’s eyes. “Doesn’t know the victim except for polite conversation.” He shifted his position from leg to another while standing against the coffee bar.
“Pretty, isn’t she?” Maude asked, cocking her head sideways, watching Joe’s expression.
“Yeah, she’s a looker,” he said distractedly.
“Okay, partner,” Maude said, “what gives? Something’s bothering you. What is it?”
“That woman is dangerous,” Joe said. “She killed him.”
“What? What makes you think she killed him?” Maude was stunned. Sure, she had wanted Joe to find out all she could about the Avery woman, but she hadn’t expected that.
“Not only did she kill him, she thinks she’s going to get away with it.”
“Sit down, Joe,” Maude said. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”
“I can’t sit; I need to walk this off. She killed him, Maude. I looked in her eyes and knew she was playing with me like a cat does a mouse, just before biting its head off. When I mentioned the victim, I could tell she was laughing at me, daring me to prove she was lying about her involvement.”
“Ouch. I guess I was too involved with interviewing Wallace Avery to pick up too much about his wife,” Maude said. “I knew there was something too perfect about her. If you’re that convinced, there must be some evidence out there proving it.”
“Yeah, I’m sure,” Joe said, “She’s bad.”
Lunch was a trip to the hot dog stand responsible for many extra pounds on police officers and clerical help in downtown Madison. Joe liked sauerkraut on his, but Maude chose chili, cheese, and onions. She had lately missed her trips to the gym, but wasn’t worried about gaining weight yet. Without the nightly gin dinners, though, she thought there might be some wisdom to watching extra calories. Long-forgotten taste buds had surfaced from below her seared tongue. They ate standing, leaning against street poles, eyeing the neighborhood from a different angle. Across from the Cop Shop was a small park dedicated to the war veterans of the county. A faux-fountain stood in the middle of the park, surrounded by cement monuments to fallen heroes. None of Maude’s family was there, most of them having been law breakers or draft dodgers. Some were both.
Grace had always been proud of her children. Maude, being the eldest, had set an example for Leonard, as she moved from high school to college, then finally to steady jobs. Leonard had taken a different path, and started self-medicating for his emotional miseries. When their father left the family home, it was the last of a series of vacancies. The old man had been a negative influence on his children; he could always find chinks in their fragile armor, wounding them in the worst ways possible. It had been a game with him, to break them and show his superiority. Of course, the opposite occurred: he made himself look small and distasteful. Still, Maude had survived, always returning to the high road, no matter how low she traveled. She credited Grace for her successes, for the strength to overcome adversity. She thought her mother should have a monument.
Lilly Ann, Leonard’s only child, was a straight arrow, possibly because she knew firsthand how quickly life could go to crap when people swayed from the law. When her father finally killed himself with drugs, she was ten years old and resentful. The loss was terrible, but she overcame her grief with some good advice from a therapist and her Aunt Maude. Also, the girl’s mother was stable and true, offering the flip side of poor parenthood, for all to see. Maude thought that day, as on many others, that monuments made of stone were no better than the memories people held dear.
Coming back to the present, she was forced to consider Joe’s recent eureka moment, when he discovered his belief in the guilt of Anna Avery. The question remained: why would she want to kill Marlin Thompson? Was she alone in the murder, or did her husband participate in killing the young man? Maude had a strong suspicion that Wallace Avery was not part and parcel with the murder. No, he had been too close to violence already. A deeper look into Anna Avery’s past was called for.
“Let’s take a trip to Waco, Joe, Anna’s last known address befo
re marrying Wallace Avery. Talk to some people at the PD. I’ll clear it with the captain. A day trip. You get to drive and I sleep. Sound good?”
“Sure, when?” His distraction fading, the thought of a road trip made Joe feel good. He liked driving, especially long trips. Good music on the radio made for a pleasant ride. Besides, finding evidence to shatter Anna Avery’s carefully crafted image would be ego-building, and, at the moment, he wouldn’t mind a little of that.
The afternoon was used for standard police work, which included report writing and labeling evidence. Maude used her small notebook to transcribe details from it to the computer documents to be shared with her captain. She made certain, as always, that the information was accurate without any personal opinions. Some areas covered officer responses to events. In those types of reports, she was allowed to use some discretion in describing what had happened.
Joe had stepped outside to speak to one of the officers about the drug enforcement bust. He sounded happy, and Maude wondered if Homicide was too much for the young man. God knew it could be confining. The fun events came from finding killers and proving they had done it. Human nature was often inclined to seek revenge for pain inflicted at an earlier time. A father might track the molester of his child then kill him. The end result was the child lost both innocence and a father. Sometimes the biblical version of justice was more appealing, an eye for an eye, without interference by a group of non-involved lawmakers.
She spoke to Captain Patterson and gave him the news that a trip to Waco was in the offing, unless he had other thoughts, and it was becoming clear they wouldn’t need to go to Woodsboro. She didn’t get into Joe’s gut-level responses to Anna Avery. Patterson wouldn’t like to hear them. Simply explaining they were following up on the background of the Avery couple was enough. Also the fact that it was a day trip helped convince him. She checked out more ammunition and a gas card, preparing for the early morning departure. There was no need to show up at the office; they could get an early start and call Patterson on the way. Being trusted got her a few privileges.
The 6:10 To Murder (The Maude Rogers Crime Novels Book 3) Page 15
