Dressed to Kill Read online

  "Yes." I fought the urge to roll my eyes; they had my identification.

  "You live in Allenspark, Colorado?"

  "Sure."

  "It was a yes or no question."

  "Then, yes." Oh, boy—he was one of those!

  "You entered the country on January third?"

  "Yes." What does that have to do with anything?

  "You’re traveling with Jesse Moreno?"

  "Yes."

  "What's your relationship with Mr. Moreno?"

  "We’re dating."

  "And you're staying at the Omega Hotel?"

  "I already told you that." I fought another eye roll.

  "Yes or no."

  "Yes."

  "How can you, an unemployed police detective, afford to say at that kind of hotel?"

  "I came into some money as a settlement after a difficult case. I took a year off to get my head straight."

  "Then how did you end up working on a high-profile case?" He leered at me with disgust.

  It hit me then: Dupree was one of those guys that hated it when women surpassed them. "Bob Maddox is a family friend. Someone asked me to look into the case against him. I called in a favor with a friend who works for the FBI."

  "I see. You've been hospitalized since you arrived—why?"

  "I had an allergic reaction."

  "To what?" he demanded.

  "I'm not sure yet. They haven’t let me know."

  "Can you think of anyone who'd want to harm you?" Dupree asked.

  A long list of people from past cases popped into my head. "Not really. Why?"

  "You hesitated. There is someone you can think of."

  "I testified against the George family almost two years ago. They were political heavy-hitters, but things with them have died down."

  "I see. You should know, Ms. Rich, that the hospital contacted us earlier today. They suspect that somebody dosed you with a bee toxin. There was enough in your system to equal being stung almost one hundred times, yet there were no stings."

  "I'm sorry—what?" The out-of-body feeling had returned with a vengeance.

  "Ms. Rich, we believe somebody tried to kill you. Our unit went to your hotel only to find you re-booked. We tried your new hotel. It surprised us to find you at a bank robbery in progress. We do not tolerate this behavior here, you must understand that."

  "I'm sorry—you told me somebody tried to murder me, that you know more about my medical records than I do, and then you threaten me? I didn't ask for this. I’m not sure I want to move forward with this questioning."

  Dupree leaned back in his chair. "You’re not being charged with anything."

  I felt the outburst coming. The dam had been breached; there was no stopping it. "No kidding. That's because I didn't do anything. This has been the worst vacation ever. I end up deathly ill, missed check-in at the hotel, had to switch lodgings, got snowed-in, and then when I went out to check on the one work-related thing I needed to take care of, I ended up being held hostage by a crazy, fat man. So if this is your way of improving my stay, you have a lot to reconsider."

  "All right. I see where you're coming from." A look of shock replaced Dupree’s angry sneer.

  "So, to answer your question: I don’t know who'd want to kill me. As for Melvin, he got greedy and took a bribe. He was covering for someone. I believe that someone is Ralph Maddox, although I can't explain how he's not dead. I'd very much like to figure that out instead of sitting here with you."

  "Well, Ms. Rich, I'm hurt you don't consider me good company. After all, we are fellows in law enforcement."

  I gestured at the interrogation room. "This sure doesn't feel like a professional courtesy."

  "About that: you believe Ralph Maddox is still alive, so my guess is that you'll head to his property to find out for sure."

  You better believe it! I held the words in. "No, I saw what I wanted to see."

  "Don't bother—we've already brought Maddox in for questioning."

  I opened and closed my mouth. Frustration made my heart pound in my ears. I took a deep breath and tried to respond with some version of the calm I'd lost touch with some time ago. "He's here?" I spoke quietly even though I wanted to scream at the jerk to bring me the not-so-dead-billionaire.

  "Yes, he's here. You’re not the only one wondering how a dead billionaire's using our local bank."

  "It’s strange."

  "I think you stuck your foot in it with Melvin. He was likely helping Maddox cover up his visit. I'm sure he has an expensive lifestyle."

  I snorted and choked down a laugh. "Lifestyle? Most dead guys don't have one."

  "No, I guess not. So, it seems we have a problem. We have the issue with the bank on our soil, but you have a murder and possible misidentified victim on yours."

  "There's no reason that should be a problem. Our case should take precedence. Ralph Maddox is at the heart of both problems, and I’m sure he's here to cover up for our murder."

  "All right, Ms. Rich—I'm convinced you didn't come here to rob a bank."

  "Well, I'm glad you put that one together." I suppressed another eye roll.

  "As I was saying, I'll allow you to observe when we question Maddox." Dupree crossed his arms over his chest with a smug sneer.

  I leaned closer to Dupree, challenging his space. “I’d like the chance to question him myself," I pushed back.

  "Not going to happen." He shook his head.

  "I can provide you the financial documents that led me to the bank here."

  "You've already provided them." Dupree smirked as he opened a folder and pulled out the files I'd carried in my bag.

  "Nice. I hear you—I'll accept your offer to observe the interview."

  "I thought you would."

  Chapter 23

  I stood behind the false mirror and looked into another interview room. Another officer had led Jesse to the room, and he stood next to me, rubbing his wrists as though the cuffs had burned into his flesh.

  "I thought Canadians were supposed to be polite," he grumbled between his teeth.

  "They didn't shoot us," I replied.

  "Yeah, there's that." Jesse shrugged. "Why are we here?"

  "They didn't tell you? They picked Ralph Maddox up and brought him in for questioning."

  "That is freaking mind-blowing. How does that even happen? I mean, they had a funeral. His brother goes to trial in a few months."

  "Yeah, but there were a lot of things that didn't quite make sense. They didn't clear Bob's name, but they were odd. This is the missing piece."

  Jesse’s brow wrinkled. For a moment I saw a flicker of the expression he'd given Melvin when everything had fallen apart. "There's something else, Avery. I don't know what they said to you, but I did nothing to hurt you. I wouldn't do that. Why would I?” He looked me straight in the eyes.

  It took me a few seconds before I realized what he was saying. "You're talking about the allergic reaction?"

  He nodded. "They said someone tried to kill you. Why didn't you tell me?"

  "I didn't know. The hospital was supposed to call me about my lab results, but I guess they called the police instead."

  Jesse paced the floor in the tiny room. "How does something like that happen? I was standing right with you the whole time. I keep going through it in my head, but what did I miss?”

  Before I could answer, the door to the interrogation room opened, and an officer led Ralph Maddox—a thinner, bearded version of Bob—to a table identical to the one I'd been sitting at only a few minutes earlier. There was no mistaking this man for anybody but Bob's twin.

  "Wow! He’s not dead." Jesse squinted his eyes as he examined the man through the glass.

  "No, but I'd bet anything he’s at the root of this. There's just no other way."

  Officer Dupree lumbered into the interview room the same cocky saunter he'd used when he'd interviewed me. He held up a clipboard and pretended to read the information for the first time. I knew better, but Ralph didn't.
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  "Officer, I'm afraid there's been some mistake. I don't know why I'm here." Ralph appeared perplexed, but I wasn't buying it, and neither was Officer Dupree.

  "Is your name Ralph Maddox?" Dupree yanked out his chair before Ralph could answer, making a horrible screeching sound. He plopped down in the chair as though he hadn't noticed.

  "He's a charmer," Jesse said.

  I scrunched my nose. "Yeah, I noticed." I didn't take my eyes off of Ralph Maddox. Seeing someone who'd faked his death wasn't new, but letting his brother take the fall for killing him was just cold.

  "Yes, Ralph Maddox." Ralph held his hand out for Dupree to shake it, but the officer ignored him. Instead, he took a newspaper clipping in a plastic evidence bag from his clipboard and slid it across the table.

  "Have you read this article or any of the others about your murder that have been in the news?"

  Ralph picked the article up and looked it over. "I don't get the local paper. In fact, I avoid the media. It’s a personal wellness thing. Most news is depressing." Ralph's voice was steady, but his complexion turned a shade of gray that almost matched the corpse that had died in his place.

  "Did you or did you not know that you are considered dead?" Officer Dupree went straight for the jugular with his line of questioning.

  "I…well, I heard something about it, but I assumed it was a banking mistake. My competitors can be cruel."

  I put my hand over my mouth to avoid yelling at him through the two-way mirror. Ralph Maddox had to be lying. Why would he try to have Melvin cover his financial tracks if he was on the level?

  Officer Dupree pulled another piece of my confiscated file from his clipboard of tricks. I recognized an autopsy photo of the deceased's face. "Since this isn't you, who is it?"

  Ralph flinched at the photo on the table and avoided picking it up.

  Dupree picked it up instead and held it to Ralph's face. "Again, who is this?"

  "He's dead," Ralph stammered.

  "Yes, that’s what happens when people bleed out. Who is he?"

  "I..." Ralph turned away from the photo. "I don't know."

  Jesse pointed at Ralph. "Man, he’s freaked out."

  "Yeah, I think he may barf." I stood with my fingertips resting on the sill of the two-way mirror, transfixed. I wanted my evidence back, and I wanted the interview to be mine. Jurisdiction is a beast.

  "All right—we'll come back to that. I'm sure this man's name is on the tip of your tongue." Dupree pulled out the reports from the forensic accountant. "It looks like you've been banking in town since before Christmas. When did you arrive in Toronto?"

  "I'd have to check my calendar. I'm sure it was way before Christmas."

  "He's shooting for an alibi," I grumbled.

  "Alibis only work if he can prove it." Jesse stuck his fingers through his belt loops, his stance resembling an Italian cowboy. “Those transactions happened after the murder."

  "Are you thinking he’s the killer?" I asked. A detail popped into my mind at that moment: the killer had told Ava the blood had been on her hands, but she hadn't paid for a hit. "Oh, God—he may have been the one. He matches the description of the killer, and he could've killed the guy who had Ava out on the town."

  Jesse nodded. "Ah, the good, old fashioned jealousy motive."

  "Well, if it was Ralph, it wasn't for money; he has plenty of that."

  Officer Dupree had been letting Ralph stew as he flipped through his clipboard of surprises. “Interesting,” he mumbled to himself. Dupree’s eyes never left the papers. The effect was obvious: sweat appeared on Ralph brow, and his color had not improved. "Tell me: why did you choose this bank to withdraw your cash? There must be ten or twenty banks closer to your residence."

  Ralph coughed to clear his throat. "Someone recommended it."

  "Who recommended it?" Dupree continued to scan the files as though he already knew everything he needed to know.

  "I can't recall. Whoever it was said their fees on large withdrawals were very reasonable."

  "Why did you need to spend cash instead of using your personal check cards?”

  Ralph stared down at his clasped hands. "I wanted to disappear for a while. To be honest, dating Ava Lenore brought more attention than I was comfortable with."

  Dupree finally looked up from his clipboard. He raised an eyebrow. "Most people just break those types of relationships off."

  Ralph looked up with a glimmer of hope in his eyes and nodded. "I did. I let her know I didn't want to see her anymore."

  I couldn't stand it any longer. I'd ask my questions if it killed me. I went to the doorway and knocked. There was no immediate response, so I knocked with more intensity. It was my case. I had asked the FBI for permission, and it was my case, not Dupree’s.

  The door opened. "It’s department policy not to interrupt an interrogation." Officer Dupree spat the words in my face and started to close the door, but I stuck my foot over the threshold.

  "I'm not a part of the department, and this is my case."

  Dupree's eyes bulged. A vein I'd never noticed pulsated in his forehead. He stood there, blocking the doorway for what seemed like an eternity.

  "Avery?" Ralph Maddox asked.

  I wondered how he knew me. "Yes, it's me," I answered.

  "What in the world are you doing in Canada?"

  "I’d like to ask you the same question."

  "You know this man?" Dupree asked me.

  "I remember her from when she was a little girl," Ralph said. "I knew her mother."

  I was glad he'd answered because I didn't have a clue.

  Dupree shifted his weight between his feet. He looked at the evidence he'd confiscated from my bag, at Ralph, and back at me. Dupree wanted the shiny case full of celebrities and money. He wanted it badly, but he knew it was my footwork that had gotten him this far. Despite his intense interrogation style, he had nothing without my work, and he knew it. "Fine."

  He offered no explanation or rationale, but I wasn’t going to wait for him to change his mind. I barged into the interrogation room and sat in Dupree's chair before he could get back to it.

  Chapter 24

  I looked Ralph Maddox in the eye for a long moment, trying to read his expression and mood. He didn’t appear to mind the silence. "So, why are you in Canada, Ralph?"

  He gave me a half-smile. "I own a property here. I wanted to get away for a while."

  I paused for a moment, adjusting the paperwork Dupree had already sorted while I let Ralph get comfortable with my new line of questioning. I wanted him comfortable so he'd tell me what I needed to know. “I imagine that would be important to you. Did you get together with Bob over the holidays?"

  "Err…well, no."

  "Gee, he's your twin brother—why not?" I tilted my head, pretending to be perplexed.

  "Well, he's back in California, and I'm here in Canada. It makes for a logistical challenge,” Ralph stammered.

  "Yes, well, have you spoken to Bob?" Of course not. Bob thought he was dead.

  "No, not for a while." Ralph looked at the door as though he could wish his way free.

  "What about your cousin Sandra? Have you spoken to her?" Since she was the one who'd falsely identified his body…

  "Sandra? I haven’t seen her in years. We’re estranged."

  "And Ava?"

  "We're very different people. We agreed to separate."

  "So, you're both free to see other people?" I passed a photo of Ava wearing what looked like an expensive engagement ring across the table and pointed to the jewelry. It could've come from any of her suitors, but I wanted to see Ralph’s reaction.

  Ralph coughed. "Yes, I guess so."

  "Well, that's good because she's been seeing her personal assistant. He answered the door when I went by to interview her."

  "That kid?"

  "He looked rather well-grown to me," I said. He'd been nearly naked when he'd answered the door at six a.m.

  "I'll kill him!"

  I
smiled. “Well, that seems unwise. After all, you said you both were free agents.”

  "I…I mean we're taking a break, but I don't want her sleeping with some plebeian pretty boy!"

  "Why does it matter who she sleeps with?" I tried to make it seem like an innocent question.

  Ralph clenched his fist. "It doesn't. As you said: she's a free agent."

  So close, yet so far!

  "I understand." I flipped through the papers on the clipboard until I'd found the autopsy photos that had been in my bag. "Ah, here we go. You told Mr. Dupree that you don't know this man."

  "No, I don't."

  "It could be you. It could be Bob. Are you sure it's not your bother? You'd better take a closer look. I'd hate to tell the M.E. they'd misidentified this man. I imagine his family will be upset." I showed Ralph a few of the photos Riley Lane had taken of the other “Ralph” with Ava just before he was killed.

  "That's not Bob. I'm certain of it."

  "How can you be so sure? The resemblance is uncanny." I spread the collection of photos out on the table, facing Ralph.

  "I’ve known Bob since before I was born. The real Bob has a scar here, where he broke his leg skiing. And there should be a birthmark there, on his arm.”

  "Has Bob had his appendix removed?" I asked, pretending to look at one of the photos.

  "No, but I did," Ralph said.

  "What about plastic surgery. Has Bob had any?" I plopped an x-ray of the dead man's skull with the multiple reconstruction projects noted.

  "No, that should be obvious. We're as identical today as we’ve ever been." Ralph pushed the photo back to me.

  "This guy—he had a lot of work done. That's kind of unusual for a man, don't you think?"

  "People do all sorts of things these days. You never know."

  "Yeah, but this guy—somehow he ended up looking amazingly like you and your twin brother. Why do you think he would have done that?"

  "How should I know?" Ralph shouted.

  "I was thinking you might know since this man was with Ava when he died."

  "With Ava? Who isn't with Ava these days?"

  "Apparently, you're not. Too bad; you made a cute couple." In a gold digger/miser kind of way.

  "We were great together. It was amazing." Ralph clasped his hands as if he was praying.