The Beholder, a Maddie Richards Mystery (25 page)

“What you say may be true, Madeline Jane. Still, they make a good argument.”

“Did they bring Yvonne over so you could meet her?”

“Of course not.”

“Why do you say of course not? Not too many years ago, you never even wanted Bradley to stay with a babysitter you hadn’t met. How many times have I heard you say, ‘We can’t leave Bradley with
that woman
. We don’t know her. We don’t know what kind of person she is. We don’t know her family.’ I’ve heard you say that even when he was going to stay overnight at a friend’s house. Now you’re ready to just hand Bradley over to some woman neither of us have ever met, and not just for the night. Forever! And why? Because her attorney says, she’s got lots of money.”

Maddie saw confusion on her mother’s face. She took her mother’s hand and felt it tremble slightly. “How was it left, Mother? What’s next?”

“Mr. Gray wants me to think on it. He said the hearing wasn’t for several weeks yet. He asked if he could call me back in two or three weeks. Come over again, after I’ve decided.”

The sharks had smelled blood in the water and were circling. The point of their attack would be her mother. Jed’s offer to have Curtis bumped off, though given in jest, might have been a good idea.

Chapter 36

Midnight came with Maddie unable to sleep. She got up and went for a ride through downtown Phoenix. The hills in the dark distance had folded into one another, their faint ridgeline barely discernable against the night sky.

Her drive was more a weave than anything purposeful. She hadn’t done this since starting with the department as a patrol officer. In those early days all she could think about was getting her shield, becoming a detective. But the badge hadn’t changed much, not really. In so many ways, she was still so alone. And if Bradley was taken away, she doubted she would be able to hold herself together.

She drove instinctively, using the numbered streets to round the blocks as she continued her serpentine course. She cut back and forth on the streets named for U.S. presidents, the sidewalks quietly framed by businesses waiting for the morning light to guide customers into their establishments.

She watched the pedestrians, few as they were at this hour. That was also instinctive. Even late, with the city appearing calm, the infrequent person or car sustained the pulse of the big city. As a uniformed officer, her skill at reading the street had always given her an anticipation of what might happen next, as contrasted with her personal life where what might happen next always seemed just beyond comprehension.

In miles, this part of town was not far from the tavern where she had braced Folami Stowe’s former pimp, but far enough that here the drunks seemed cleaner cut, and hookers were arranged discreetly by phone rather than pandering at the curb.

This block was deserted except for a drunk who walked the sidewalk a half a block ahead. Like most career drinkers, in an effort to look sober, his motions were exaggerated, his body hunched forward, his nose pointing the way like a hunting dog locked on a scent.

“My god,” she said aloud. “It’s Adam Harrison.”

She pulled to the curb and watched the lieutenant push through the padded, vinyl-covered door into Mel’s Place. Mel’s was a local watering hole used by dedicated drinkers who were still well enough heeled to wear clean clothing and not sleep in doorways. Mel’s was not a drinking place frequented by cops.

Adam’s walk had told her this tavern had not been his first oasis in tonight’s crusade to forget. Maddie parked and walked inside. Lieutenant Harrison sat toward the far end of the bar. She watched the bartender set a shot glass of something dark in front of the lieutenant. He immediately threw it back and motioned for another. She heard him slur, “And a draft.”

He was drunk, but not in a practiced way. His forearms cupped into the curve of the bar’s worn wooden rail. His shoulders slouched from the blows delivered by whatever battered him from inside.

And Maddie knew that if she lost Bradley, she might be sitting next to him.

Maddie put her hand on his arm. “Hello, mister. Buy a lady a drink?” It had been a dumb comment, but she hadn’t known what to say.

He yanked his arm away without bothering to look, and threw down the contents of his refilled shot glass.

She put her hand on his arm again and said nothing, just left it there. After a moment, he turned, squinting, his eyes slowly showing recognition. He took a deep breath, shuddered, then spoke liquidly. “Sergeant Richards. What are you do—”

“It’s Maddie once I punch out. Let’s move to a booth.”

Maddie took his arm and used his body weight to rotate the stool. It squeaked. He stepped down, recovered his balance and turned for his beer. Maddie looked down the bar at a dozen plain-faced men whose eyes seemed to be asking, hey, this guy just came in, how ‘bout me first?

She led Adam to a booth where his back would be to a wall-mounted television silently playing one of those classic sports events they put on after the real-time games have all ended.

“Sarg—Maddie. Why are you here?”

“Why to drink with a friend. I’ve got this secret life and now I have a friend with the same problem, a friend to sneak drinks with, to puke with in the back alley, to share a roll of mints with at work.”

“You’re being insub … ordinate, Sergeant.”

“Not to the man you are right now. Most citizens are responsible, but cops get to deal with the crooks, the addicts, the drunks. We know them all. We hear their excuses. The world is against me. I had to get even. And the ever popular: you don’t know the troubles I’ve seen. That’s not you, Adam. Let’s get some coffee. Then I’ll drive you home.”

He slouched against the wall at the closed end of the booth. “I loved her, Maddie. Loved her like you can’t know.”

“Life can be the shits.”

“We were going to share the rest of our lives. Take care of each other. Be there for each other. I couldn’t even keep her safe. Me, a hotshot police lieutenant. I couldn’t even take care of her.”

“Adam. I know you loved her, but the rest of that’s crap. The cops can’t protect everyone from everything. Certainly not a citizen we have no reason to believe is in any specific danger.”

“If we’d gotten married right away,” Adam said, “this wouldn’t have happened. I’d have been with her. The Beholder hasn’t attacked a married woman.”

“What about Abigail Knight?”

“Her husband wasn’t home.”

“So, you figure you should have married Carmen, and then been with her every minute, every night. Come on. You know better. Predators choose when to attack. We can’t always be there. Don’t twist your grief into guilt. There’s no reason. Grieve. That’s natural. Then move on. That’s natural, too.”

“That’s easy to say, Maddie.”

“I know. I know. But it’s still what must happen or you end up sitting in places like this the rest of your life. … Is this how Carmen would want you to end up? What would she say?”

“We had no time. If we just could have been married, had … a few years. Been able” … his lips closed, the thought absorbed by nothingness.

“I understand,” Maddie said. “You would have been better off if the two of you had never met.”

“I didn’t say that. I saw her two or three times a week for nearly two years. She brought me so much joy.”

“Then you had that. Some people are lucky enough to have more. Some live their lives and never have even that. That’s how it goes. Life doesn’t come with any guarantees.”

“Listen. I don’t want this to get around the—”

“I never repeat what I hear from babies and drunks.”

He raised his beer.

She put her hand over the top of the mug and gently pushed his arm back down to the table. She got up. He steadied himself with a hand on the back of the booth and stood. She slipped her arm around his waist, and they walked out of Mel’s Place with the regulars still wondering, who’s this lucky stiff?

***

After dropping Adam Harrison off at his condo, Maddie dialed Officer Sue Martin’s cell phone.

The answer was groggy. “Yeah?”

“Sue. Maddie. Sounds like I didn’t take you away from anything important.”

“I wish your call had taken me out of the arms of some hunk, but then I wouldn’t‘ve answered. Do you know what time it is, Sergeant Richards, ma’am?”

“Welcome to homicide. Listen. I’m headed home to try and get a few hours of that stuff myself, but I have an assignment for you. Get your pencil and some paper. I want you on this when your alarm goes off.”

“What?”

“I need to know their bra sizes.”

“What you say, girl?”

“Stowe’s bra size. Abigail Knight’s bra size. The same for Carmen Diaz. I need all their bra sizes … I also need you to contact the Chicago Police Department. They have an unsolved murder of a woman, the wife of Gary Packard, one of their detectives. He’s on suspension. Have them get you the bra size for the deceased Mrs. Packard.”

Chapter 37

Dr. Mills Knight was standing beside Gil Ortega when Maddie got to the station at nine-fifteen.

“Doctor Knight,” Maddie said, “I’m surprised to see you.”

He had come in on his own. She led the two men into an interview room with a round table and four hard chairs, a small step up from an interrogation room.

“You think Steve Gibbs is the Beholder, don’t you?”

“I’m sorry,” Maddie said, taking a seat in one of the hard chairs. “We aren’t ready to make any statements about specific possible suspects.” Gil pulled one of the other chairs out from the table and sat down, filling the space without scooting the chair back in toward the table.

“I’m not asking you anything, Sergeant. I know. You suspect Steve and I’m here to tell you, you’re wrong. He is not the Beholder. He cannot be. I am his doctor. His therapist. It would be impossible for Steve to murder anyone. If someone held a gun to Steve’s head and ordered him to do these things to a woman, Steve would tell the man to shoot. He is not capable of these atrocities.”

“We can’t discuss our ongoing investigation,” Maddie repeated, “but we will gladly listen to anything you wish to tell us.”

“Steve is shy,” Dr. Knight said following a frustrated sigh, “particularly around women. He has trouble even talking about hurting someone. It was a large part of what washed him out of medical school.”

“I don’t see it doc,” Gil said. “Steve assists in the performance of autopsies, many on women, including the Beholder’s three victims.”

“Steve has an unusual mix of feelings about women and about authority. He could never perform an autopsy, yet he can do anything that is honest work when instructed by another in authority. Doctor Ripley tells Steve what to do to assist in an autopsy and Steve does it. The responsibility stays with Doctor Ripley, the authority.”

“Yesterday, you wouldn’t talk about your patient,” Maddie said. “So why, today, are you so willing to do just that?”

Doctor Knight put his arms on the table. “My highest duty is to my patient. I am here to try and prevent his death. Steve Gibbs cannot handle confrontation. If he learns he’s a suspect, he may commit suicide. And if he’s arrested, the odds on him killing himself will go up astronomically. And you’ll have the death of a confused innocent man on your conscience.”

“Did you share with Steve the anger you felt toward your wife?” Maddie asked.

“I wasn’t angry at her.”

“Oh, come off it, doctor. Your wife was having sex with a variety of other men and you weren’t angry?”

“I loved Abby with all my heart.”

“I don’t doubt that,” she said. “At the same time, you had to be appalled by her conduct. You must have wanted revenge.”

“That’s ridiculous, Sergeant.”

“Then why did you hire a private investigator to tail her?” Gil asked. “You stayed with that plan for two weeks. You even gave the PI a key to your home. You came back early from San Diego. You and your PI planned to bust in and catch your wife and her trainer in the act. Take pictures. Divorce her. Leave her penniless. That spells anger in my book.”

Way to go, Gil.

“Am I a suspect in my wife’s murder, Sergeant Richards?”

“I’ll be straight with you, Doctor,” Maddie said. “A high percentage of murdered people are done in by their spouses so, you are under consideration.”

“I’m leaving now, Sergeant. Do not contact me again without a warrant.” He walked out, without looking back.

“Detective Ortega. You’ve obviously gotten up to speed on this case. You did very well with Knight. Thanks for your help.”

“You didn’t need my help, but I’m glad I was here.”

“The question is, Detective Ortega, why are you here? Your assignment is to watch Steve Gibbs from the time he gets off work until he settles in for the night. That means you’re off duty most of the day.”

“Gibbs spent last night at home,” Gil said. “The lights went out at ten-thirty. Sue and I left at midnight. I was home in bed, fast asleep by one. I don’t require a lot of sleep, and I’m supposed to be your partner.”

“My partner follows orders. You’re supposed to be shadowing Gibbs.”

“Not until four this afternoon.” Gil got up and walked out.

Ten minutes later he stepped into Maddie’s small office with two cups of coffee. “Black, right? I went to get you the chocolate-covered bismark, but Dink had beaten me to it.”

She smiled. “I can see you’re going to be a handful. Yes. Black is fine. Thank you. Anything else on Gibbs?”

“Nothing. He goes home, eats with his aunt, watches television, and goes to bed. Night before last he went out for a walk. Ten blocks. Slow pace.”

“Is anyone around here asking what you’re up to?”

“No questions from anyone here. And the folks at the medical examiner’s office don’t even know we’re around. And we haven’t seen the media sniffing around the M.E.’s office or Gibbs’s home. You want Officer Martin’s take on any of this?”

“No. She’s off duty, like you’re supposed to be.”

“Correction, Sue is outside bringing the murder books up to date, unless you prefer to handle that yourself?”