Her ivory blouse is slick with blood that pools into a circle around the weapon. Trails of ruby red run down her shirt, dripping onto the white fluffy rug below. Her chair and desk are smeared in crimson along with the phone receiver.
She tried to call for help, but she didn’t make it. Her laptop is on the floor and the framed portrait of her deceased husband lies on its side with the glass cracked.
Standing near the door is Madeline’s frazzled secretary who clutches tissues and sobs. She’s the one who found the body.
Shock runs through me as I stand next to Dominic whose arms are crossed and his face grim.
I take a step back, still unable to believe what I’m seeing.
I was so sure she was the killer.
I needed her to confess to the truth.
Now I’ll never have that chance.
The head detective paces the room with his hands behind his back. Forensics gather around the body, preparing to move Madeline to the gurney. Police guard the entrance and spill into the hall. The head detective stares at the body, then throws an accusatory glance in my direction.
“The secretary came in and found her like that, Peter?” Dominic asks, breaking the tension that fills the room.
The detective runs a hand through his blond hair. “Officer Collins, take Ms. Ford’s statement please.” He calls to a policeman standing nearby. Then he turns to Dominic. “Yes, Dom, Ms. Ford came to work at eight and stated that Mrs. Toma’s office door was closed. Apparently she had a lot of meetings and didn’t want to be disturbed. Ms. Ford went to run errands for her at noon. When she came back around three she found her dead.”
He stares at me.
I can see in his eyes he knows who I am. “What is she doing here?”
“Who?” Dominic looks around.
The detective points to me. “Her.”
“She has a name and a voice.” Dominic raises his eyebrows. “Unless you don’t know who she is.”
A sour expression crosses the head detective’s face. “Of course I know her name. Who in Chicago doesn’t. I want to know whyshe’s here. I allowed you to come here as a favor, Dominic. I didn’t know you would be bringing company.”
“Cipriani is the other partner. I told you I wasn’t working alone on this investigation.” Dominic replies.
“Yeah and you never said your partner was the head of a mafia family,” the detective grumbles.
“That’s never been proven,” I interrupt. “Who are you anyway?”
“This is Detective Miller,” Dominic explains. “We used to work together.”
“Head Detective Miller.” He glares at me with a look like he wants to say something.
“Whatever you have to say, you can say to my face,” I snap.
Detective Miller locks eyes with me. “Mrs. Toma was involved in your businesses, correct?”
“She played a minor role.”
“Did you two have a falling out?” Detective Miller presses.
“No, why?”
“Ms Ford mentioned how before Mrs. Toma died, she was huffing and puffing for weeks about you harassing her grandson. Apparently you didn’t like how your sister was dating her grandson.”
“I never said anything of the kind.”
“Also I find it funny how Mrs. Toma is dead, and apparently her grandson Elio is nowhere to be found.”
