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Thirty-One

Madison balanced a burger in one hand while driving. Her nose was so congested she could hardly taste the meal, but thank heaven for small miracles—the thing was dripping with grease and probably tasted like a vat of oil. Terry scarfed his food down without complaint, surprisingly, and was working on getting a search warrant for both Lynch’s business and residence.

Throughout the drive, she and Terry had been over the matter of Saul Lynch and his missing fingerprints several times. It was possible he wasn’t a licensed PI but simply owned the firm and worked from an administrative prospective. The only thing with that was it wiped out a strong motive quickly. If it had been an employee stirring up a nest, why did Lynch get a bullet in his head? But she wasn’t ready to let go of their theory just yet.

“You know, Lynch and Lorene poking their noses into the wrong person’s business could explain the missing phones and Lynch’s ID,” she said, feeling good that they had a plausible explanation for both. It had been one of the many facts in the case that was gnawing away at her.

“Absolutely. The killer wanted to cover their tracks,” Terry agreed. “It could explain them being tied up. The killer could have been testing to see how much they’d uncovered, who they told. The fact they were naked could have been to humiliate them, as we touched on before.”

“I’d also say the killer was motivated for personal reasons.”

“Was it personal with Malone, Lynch, or both?”

Madison shook her head, unsure. “Whoever’s behind the murders had to know they were both at the Malones’, and he or she would have waited things out until the cook left.”

“Whoever they were expecting could have turned out to be their killer,” Terry wagered. “All this”—he flailed his hands to imply their discussion—“sounds good in theory, but if the killer was motivated because Lynch uncovered something, why go to the trouble of tying both of them up? I don’t think she was collateral damage.”

“So, we’re either back to it having something to do with them having an affair, or they were investigating something—more importantly, someone—they should have left alone. And the killer held them both responsible.”

“I think so.”

Madison turned into a residential neighborhood at four fifty-five in the afternoon and looked for a sign announcing Your Best Friend. None existed, but the address they were seeking had an “Open” sign displayed in the door’s window. No online presence and no real signage; it was a miracle they had any customers.

“They’re pretty private about their business.” Terry snickered at his own joke. “Get it? Private investigation firm…private about their business?”

“I get it. Wish I didn’t.” Madison rolled her eyes at Terry’s play on words and parked around back. As she passed along the building, she looked inside the front window. “There’s a light on.”

“Now, is anybody home?” Terry jested.

Her partner was obviously full of beans, but she rather preferred him like this than upset and moody. She recalled that Annabelle had agreed to go to the doctor. Considering he was rather upbeat, maybe it was a good time to ask.

“How did Annabelle make out at the doctor’s? She get an appointment?”

“Yep.” He undid his seat belt and got out of the car. She followed suit.

Terry continued as Madison locked the vehicle. “She saw him this afternoon, and we should have the results by Friday.”

“Oh, that’s quick.”

“Made me happy to hear. I’d rather know what we’re dealing with sooner than later, but I’m just going to keep positive.”

She feared saying something that would jeopardize his optimism, so she went with a simple, “Best way to be.”

He looked at her, tilted his head. “I appreciate your saying that, but I know you’re wired to think negatively.”

“That’s not really fair,” she said, his comment stinging a little.

“It’s true, though. We both know that.” He offered her a small smile, and they walked around to the business’s front door.

She stopped outside the door and peered through the window. A twentysomething brunette stood behind a desk stuffing items into a lunch bag. She was probably getting ready to go home and just hadn’t gotten around to flipping the sign on the door yet.

Madison turned to Terry. “Just remember that whoever we talk to in there has no idea Lynch is dead.”

“Hey, I’m the nice one. The fact you even thought to tell me that is surpri—” He was toying with her, and he stopped talking the farther down her brows went.

Madison got the door for them, and a chime rang.

The brunette stopped what she was doing, frozen with her hand in the air holding a Tupperware container that had been en route to the bag. She smiled at them and then put it into her bag. “Good day. Is there something I can help you with?”

Madison hated that they were about to strip this girl’s happiness. She held up her badge and approached the counter with Terry. “We’re detectives with the Stiles PD. I’m Madison Knight, and this is Terry Grant. Would there be a manager in that we could speak with?”

“It’s just me and Mr. Lynch around here, and he’s not in, so I’m it,” she said, zipping up her bag and watching them as she did so. “How can I help you?”

“What’s your name?” Madison asked.

“Stephanie Bateman.”

“Unfortunately, we have bad news about Saul—”

The phone on the desk started to ring, and Stephanie didn’t answer it. Her eyes pooled with tears, and she dropped into her chair. “I had this horrible feeling when I couldn’t reach him.” Her voice held a tremor. “What happened to him?”

“He was found yesterday morning. He was murdered, gunshot to the head.” Madison laid out the details with sensitivity in her tone.

Stephanie’s face contorted as she fended off crying.

“We’re very sorry for your loss,” Madison empathized.

Tears fell down Stephanie’s cheeks, but she remained speechless.

“Have you worked with Mr. Lynch long?” Madison asked.

Stephanie palmed her cheeks and sniffled. “For a couple of years now. Saul took me on right out of college. He treats me—treated me—” She stopped there and looked toward the ceiling as if gathering strength to continue. “I just can’t imagine who would do such a thing. He was an amazing man. He loved life and helping other people.”

That claim all depends on perspective.

“We think it’s possible that his killer might be someone he was investigating,” Terry said, worming his way into the conversation.

Stephanie looked at him. “I really can’t think of anyone.”

“What sort of things do you investigate?” Madison asked. “Is it possible someone didn’t appreciate Mr. Lynch poking around?”

“Well, for the most part, we look into insurance scams and cheating spouses.” Her cheeks still damp and her eyes pooled with tears, she met Madison’s gaze. “I guess it’s possible that someone…”

Cheating spouses…

Lorene Malone and Saul Lynch were found naked together. This was a stretch, but maybe they were made to look like they were having an affair to draw attention away from someone else who actually was. Steven Malone, perhaps? Had Lorene had been looking into her husband, suspecting him of cheating? Steven could have found out and flipped things. It was quite a leap, as nothing so far pointed to Steven being unfaithful to Lorene. “You said insurance scams and cheating spouses are what you look into ‘for the most part.’ Anything else?” Though both clientele bases could be ripe with motive.

“Really, whatever a client needs.” Stephanie’s gaze drifted to her desk. “We have looked into cases the police couldn’t solve.”

Stephanie’s grief was blinding her to the fact their client list was rich with suspects. They’d be best to focus on what Lorene Malone was having investigated and then, if necessary, spread out from there. There’d be no putting off Lorene’s murder any longer. “Mr. Lynch was found with someone—”

“Oh.” Stephanie pushed back from her desk. “Was he the unidentified man found with Lorene Malone?” Her voice raised an octave. “I read about it online. She was found in her house?”

Madison nodded. “We just discovered his identity before coming here and have reason to believe your company did work for Lorene Malone. Would you be able to tell us what?”

“Let me just verify it in the system.” Stephanie rolled her chair up to the desk and started working on the keyboard and moving the mouse around.

“We have an invoice number if that helps,” Madison offered.

“That would make this much faster.” Stephanie moved her mouse, then stopped, looked up at them. “Maybe I should be asking for a warrant?” Simply posing the question made her visibly nauseous. She continued. “I’m probably being stupid requesting one. I mean, if I can tell you something that will help you catch his killer… It’s not like I have to worry about protecting the clients so much anymore.” Her eyes were glazing over, concentrating. “What’s going to happen to the business now? Without him, it’s just me, and I’m not an investigator. I’ve never worked anywhere but here.”

“I can imagine the next while will be tough for you,” Madison said gently, “but whatever you can do to help would be appreciated.” Madison glanced at Terry who had his phone out.

“Actually, the warrants came through,” Terry said.

“Okay, that helps.” Her chin quivered, and she bit her bottom lip. “But it doesn’t bring Saul back.”

“Like you said, you have a chance to help us catch his killer,” Terry repeated as he extended his phone to her to show her the warrant for the business records as they pertained to Saul Lynch and any electronics.

Stephanie glanced at the screen, and her gaze hardened to steel. She put her attention back on the monitor. “He did bill Lorene Malone for work, that you know already.”

Madison leaned on the counter. “What was she having him investigate?”

“That might be trickier.” Stephanie took a deep breath. “Saul wouldn’t tell me the details of open investigations. He said it was out of respect for a client’s privacy.”

Apparently, when Stephanie said she was verifying what work Lorene had hired them for, she was simply confirming she was a client. “How can we find out what he was looking into?” Madison asked.

“He keeps everything on his laptop, and he protects the files with passwords.” Stephanie frowned. “He keeps that laptop on his person all the time, like most of us cradle our phones.”

Madison glanced at Terry. Did that mean that not only was Lynch’s ID and phone missing but so was his laptop? The killer was trying to cover all of his or her steps.

“I take it by the looks on both your faces, you didn’t come across his laptop.” Stephanie split her gaze between the two of them.

Madison shook her head.

“I’m sorry, then. I don’t know what else to do for you.”

“He didn’t back up his files to a server here or to a cloud, perhaps?” Terry asked.

Good thinking, Terry!

“Oh, maybe…” Stephanie slid her bottom lip through her teeth as she moved her mouse around, clicking here, clicking there. Her face darkened. “It was a reach. He wasn’t good about updating to the mainframe computer here, but then again, he was rarely in the office. He very well might have backed up to a cloud, but if he did, I know nothing about it.”

One step forward, two back. That stood to define the entire case so far, but how frustrating to have John Doe’s identity and still feel like their hands were tied.

“We’re going to need to bring the office computers with us,” Madison said.

“Whatever you need.” Stephanie sniffled. “Just please catch whoever did this to him.”

Madison touched the woman’s forearm. “Don’t you worry. We intend to do just that.”

Tears fell down Stephanie’s cheeks. “Thank you.”

“Before we go, you might be able to help us answer something else,” Madison started. “Most PIs have their prints on file. Do you know why Mr. Lynch’s wouldn’t have been?”

Stephanie’s brow furrowed. “I have no idea.”

“He was a registered PI?” Terry inquired.

Stephanie pointed to a framed certificate on the wall that declared Saul Lynch just that with the state.

They might have had a name for their John Doe, but they had no idea who he really had been.

“We’re going to need to take that with us, too,” Madison told her.