As Frank brought things to a close, Ava asked one more question. She figured it would seem obvious enough, but would also go a long way toward telling what avenue to pursue next.

  “Before last night’s argument between you and Mr. Pickett, had you ever argued to that extent before?”

  “Not at all.” He was still looking at her with great anger, but there was something in that look that seemed to be softening. He was quite sure he was on the verge of being let go—and that might very well be the truth. “Maybe a disagreement here and there on how to best present business practices or how to treat employees, but even that was always nothing more than good-natured ribbing.”

  It was what she had expected. She nodded and smiled, making her way out of the room. She could feel his eyes at her back and she couldn’t help but wonder if he knew what he’d just confessed—that last night’s argument between he and Pickett might be a bit more relevant than he thought.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  “You want to tell me what you’re thinking?” Frank asked as they left the station and headed back for Fifth Avenue.

  “The Duvalls and the Picketts never argue. Mack Duvall said that himself. But the one thing they did argue about was the fate of George Pickett’s daughter. Even with the threat of whatever financially successful merger they had planned going to pot, George Pickett stood up for his daughter. It makes me think there might be some hidden resentment there. Maybe if we dig just enough…”

  “Pickett will reveal anything worth revealing about Duvall,” Frank finished for her.

  “Possibly.”

  “That’s some very good thinking, Gold.”

  “Thanks,” she replied, looking to the street ahead of them. Her father’s gym was two blocks ahead. It was a tiny bit out of their way, but she wanted to stop by. “I want to make a quick stop before we head back to the Pickett house,” she said. “Is that okay with you?”

  “Sure. We have time. It’ll be another fifteen minutes or so before Duvall is done with all of the paperwork to get him out of the station. So long as we get back to the Picketts’ before he does, I think we’ll be okay.”

  “You don’t think George will talk if Mack is there?”

  “No, I don’t. Because while he is mourning his daughter, he’s also likely thinking about his own image in all of this as well.”

  “What the hell is wrong with wealthy people?” Ava asked.

  “No clue. I’ve never had the misfortune of being one.” Frank smiled at his own joke as they crossed the street and neared Roosevelt’s Gym.

  Being near eleven in the morning, the place was quite dead. A single man stood in the back working on the punching bags and a young man worked quickly at a jump rope near the rings. As for her father, he was sitting on a small stool by the corner of that same ring, thumbing through the day’s newspaper. As the door closed behind her, she noted that Frank had elected to stay outside and wait. She wasn’t sure if this was his way of giving her privacy or if he didn’t want to go through the awkwardness of the situation.

  When Roosevelt saw her, he got up and placed the paper on the stool. “This is a big surprise,” he said. “What brings you to this part of town? Not here to arrest these gym bums, are you?”

  “No, not today, Dad. But there’s something I need to tell you…a favor, I suppose. And I need you to do your best not to worry too much about it.”

  “Okay…” Roosevelt said, clearly skeptical.

  “There was a note on my door when I left for work this morning. It was a threatening note from the mob…though I don’t even really know if it was real. It could have been someone just playing a mean trick.” But even as she said this, she doubted it was actually true. She’d known it was the real thing the moment she saw it.

  Apparently, her father felt the same without even seeing it. “I don’t think anyone would be brave enough to prank a detective in such a way or pretend to be the mob. Besides, who else would be able to find where you live?”

  “Dad, I’m just telling you so—”

  “Damn, Ava…this could be serious. I mean, think of Jeffrey.”

  “I am. And that’s why I’m here. I was hoping you could get Jeffrey from school today. let him hang out here like usual. And then, if it’s not too much trouble, let him stay with you, in your apartment, until I get home. Just keep him safe…just in case.”

  “Of course, I will. But Ava…if you think this mob thing is for real, you need to tell your superiors. You can’t just live under it.”

  “I’ll handle it, Dad.” Though honestly, she had no idea what to do. She wasn’t going to tell Frank because it would make him worry and create a fissure in what was becoming a promising career for her. The last thing she needed after the last case she’d been involved with was more drama attached to her name.

  “Be careful out there, okay?”

  “I always am.”

  She leaned forward and kissed his cheek, a gesture that took him by surprise. She then left, the sounds of the punching bag and the jump rope slapping the floor escorting her out. When she rejoined Frank, she started walking right away. He didn’t miss a step, speeding up to make sure he was always just slightly ahead of her.

  “Everything okay?” he asked.

  “Yeah. Just wanted to check in on him.”

  Frank seemed satisfied with this answer. He said nothing else as he remained one step ahead of her, leading them back to Fifth Avenue.

  ***

  Knowing what had occurred in the Pickett house and having already stepped inside made it seem like an entirely different place. Ava nearly felt like she was about to enter some haunted Gothic manor rather than a Fifth Avenue home. As she looked over the gorgeous façade—the expertly laid brick, the large windows, and long and elegant stairs leading to the front door—Ava had a thought.

  “Hold on before going in,” she told Frank. “I want to check on something.”

  She started to the side of the building, which was separated from the next home over by a large and well-maintained strip of grass roughly half an acre long. She then turned and went to the back of the house. She saw the brick wall that blocked off most of the courtyard but even closer to her was what she had been hoping to see all along.

  The fire escape almost looked like a blemish, even on the backside of the house and out of everyone’s sight. She walked over to it and reached up, though it was just a bit too tall for her to grab. Frank did it for her, saying nothing and not making a big show of it. When the ladder had clacked down, she slowly started climbing it. It wasn’t very sturdy. She imagined anyone heavier than one hundred and seventy-five pounds might think twice about climbing it. When she reached the little iron walkway that ran beneath Penny’s room as well as two others, she tried each and every window. She found them all locked and could see no obvious signs of forced entry. She’d pretty much expected this but was happy to have the option fully eliminated.

  As she started back down the ladder, she heard a commotion from the street. There were several voices, one louder than the others—and the loud voice seemed to be distressed.

  “You okay to get down by yourself?” Frank asked. “I want to check on this.”

  “Yeah, I’m good. Right behind you.”

  This was true enough. Ava managed to climb down the unsteady iron ladder with ease. She came up behind Frank just as he rounded the corner of the Picketts’ house, looking out onto the street. To their left, about half a block away from the front door of the Pickett residence, three well-dressed men were standing shoulder to shoulder. One held a briefcase and another one held one of those pretentious canes, used by men that did not really need them at all. They were speaking in angry tones to a fourth man that was pressed against a lamppost, doing his best to stand his ground but quite scared.

  The difference between the four men was rather stark. The man against the lamppost was dressed in disheveled clothes and had scraggly, long hair that was in need of a wash. He looked very out of place in this Fifth Avenue scene and it took Ava only a single second to understand what was happening here.

  The man with the cane was holding it out almost like a sword, pointing it towards the man. “You go back to your side of town! Back to where you came from!”

  “Nothing but a damned sewer rat,” the third man said, to which the man with the briefcase laughed heartily. As if encouraged by his friend’s laughter, the third man reached down into a nearby flowerbed, tore up a small patch of earth, and tossed it at the man. It struck his leg and the trio of wealthy men laughed.

  The anger that flooded Ava took her by surprise. It took Frank by surprise, too; when Ava went rushing past him, his eyes went wide with surprise. “So it now takes three men to deal with one rat, does it?” Ava asked.

  The men wheeled around at her and the looks on their faces made her even angrier. They were not embarrassed that they had been caught acting so immaturely. The man with the cane actually looked mad that he’d been interrupted from his fun.

  “Look here, you nosy broad,” the man with the cane said. “What business is it of…”

  He stopped here, his eyes narrowing and then widening when he saw her holstered gun. He then saw Frank just behind her. At this, the man’s jaws clenched tightly shut.

  “I think you all owe this man an apology.”

  “He’s clearly trespassing,” the man who had thrown the dirt said. “He has no business here.”

  Frank took a few steps forward, backing Ava up, and said: “So what if he does not live around here? What crime is he committing?” The fact that Frank was quickly taking her side meant a great deal to her. For a moment, she wasn’t sure how to react.

  All three men looked to one another, as if hoping one of their friends might have an answer that would allow them to leave this situation without being the ones in the wrong.

  “All three of you, move on about your business,” Frank said. There was more bass in his voice than Ava was accustomed to hearing.

  The men did as asked, the one with the briefcase crossing the street and heading in a different direction than his friends. Ava and Frank stood there for a moment, watching them leave. The man that had been accosted remained standing against the lamppost, looking wildly back and forth between the detectives and his three harassers.

  “Thank you kindly,” the man said. He looked very embarrassed but the gratitude in his eyes was genuine. It wasn’t until he spoke that Ava realized he was likely an immigrant that had simply not learned the layout of the city. He had a European accent that, while not thick, stood out easily.

  Hell of a welcome to America, Ava thought.

  “Can we help you get somewhere?” Ava asked. “Are you lost?”

  The man shook his head, hanging it slightly, and walked away quicky. Ava’s heart broke for him and she had half a mind to go track down those three men that had been harassing him just to put a scare into them.

  Apparently seeing this in her, Frank softly placed his hand on her arm. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s have a word with the Picketts before George Duvall shows up again.”

  Even with anger still thrumming in her, Ava knew this was the best thing to do. She turned back towards the Picketts’ home and, with the thought of that poor immigrant in her head, hated everything about the place. But she did her best to look past that as she and Frank walked inside, still looking for answers as to why Penny Pickett was murdered.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  The house felt different now. It was a place where grief had made its rounds and the rooms were now occupied by it—a thick silence that Ava felt pressing against them as they walked into the large den space. In the time they’d been gone, a local minister had come to visit. He was sitting with Millie, holding her hand, reading from the book of Psalms. Millie nodded here and there, wiping tears away from her face.

  As they stood by and waited, a man approached from behind. Ava turned and saw Kelvin standing behind them, peering into the den. “I take it you’re convinced it wasn’t Mack?” he asked.

  “We’re convinced of nothing just yet,” Ava said.

  “If it helps, I don’t think he did it. Mack may talk a very big game but he doesn’t like to get his hands dirty. Even in business, when he has to have a hard conversation with someone, he sends someone else to do it. I have a hard time thinking he’d kill anyone, much less Penny.”

  He stuttered a bit at the sound of his sister’s name and Ava could tell that he was using every ounce of his available strength not to cry. She assumed he was trying his very best to stay strong for his parents. Poor Millie Pickett looked like she was going to be out of sorts for a very long time.

  “Where is your father?” Ava asked. “We’d really like to meet with him while there is no one else around to distract him.”

  “He’s in his study right now. But let me warn you…Betty and James are sitting just outside of the office. I think they assumed you’d be back. They’re quite upset about you arresting Mack.”

  “And what about you?” Frank asked. “I can’t help but feel you now seem a bit more helpful.”

  Kelvin looked back into the den where the minister had started praying with his mother. “Seeing mom like this…it helps me to look at it as more than just a need for revenge—to catch whoever did this by any means necessary. I want it done properly, so the killer will see justice. And if I have to help the police in any way I can, I’m happy to do it.”

  “Forgive me for asking,” Ava said, “but as one of the men of the house, can you just kindly ask the Duvalls to leave?”

  Kelvin smiled and opened his mouth to speak. But before he could get a word out, another voice spoke up from down the hallway. It was Betty Duvall, and Ava quickly saw that Kelvin had not been exaggerating. The woman that had seemed almost relieved to see her husband handcuffed now looked absolutely livid.

  “We will not leave because you arrested my husband for no good reason. This poor family is grieving the loss of their daughter and somehow, you saw fit to arrest one of their very best friends.”

  “Your husband charged at a detective and was showing insubordination during a murder investigation,” Frank said.

  “Do you have any idea what something like this could do to his reputation?”

  Ava wasn’t able to stop the words that came out of her mouth. They were simply too fast. “With all due respect, we’re investigating the murder of a sixteen year-old girl. I don’t give a damn about your husband’s reputation.”

  James Duvall, the oldest son—the son that had been scheduled to marry Penny—slowly made his way to the argument. He looked tired and defeated, but there was enough spite in his voice to get his point across. “After my father talks to his lawyers about how he was treated, maybe you’ll care then.”

  This seemed odd to Ava. James had been helpful before, even if it had been mostly because he’d let a family secret slip. The same went for Betty. She’d been resentful of her husband, quiet and clearly unhappy. She’d even looked somewhat happy to see a set of handcuffs placed around his wrists. She was like a totally different woman now and Ava couldn’t help but wonder why. It was almost as if she and James were trying to do what they could to make themselves look like the victims here—not just the Picketts, a family that had just lost a daughter.

  Ava saw that their bickering had disrupted the prayer in the den. Millie was looking at them with great sorrow and grief, while the minister looked understandably frustrated. She brushed by Betty Duvall and started down the hallway. Looking straight at Kelvin, she said, “Do you think now is a good time to speak to your father?”

  “Yes.” He was clearly also startled by the way Betty and James were reacting. When Betty opened her mouth to argue, he shot her a look that was tinged with ice and venom. Betty shut her mouth right away and looked into the den, resigned.

  Ava and Frank made their way down to George Pickett’s study again. Frank knocked on the already-opened door before they entered. “Mr. Pickett, do you think we could have a word with you?”

  George was sitting behind his desk, partially collapsed into the large leather chair behind it. He looked up to them and it was clear that he had come here to have a moment to allow himself to break. His eyes were red, his face puffy. Though he appeared to be done with his emotional moment, it had certainly taken its toll on him.

  “Yes, please, come in.”

  The detectives entered, Ava making sure to keep a few steps behind Frank. It was quite clear that people in this part of town (or, rather, perhaps just men accustomed to wealth and getting their way) did not take kindly to women taking the lead. She found it closed-minded and insulting but she also knew it was something she was just going to have to deal with if she hoped to have any success.

  “It seems we angered some of your guests by arresting Mack Duvall,” Frank said.

  George chuckled and shrugged, as if he really didn’t care. “I’m sure you were just doing your job.”

  “We were,” Ava said. “But because of that and the freshness of what had happened when we first arrived, we never got to speak directly to you, one-on-one. We have to start with the simplest questions, of course: do you have any idea who might have done this?”

  He shook his head slowly for several seconds. It reminded Ava of the pendulum of a clock. “No. I’ve been asking myself that very same question over and over again and come up with nothing.” He looked to them both with tired chagrin and said, “But I can pretty much guarantee you it wasn’t Mack. He’s not the type.”

  “Speaking of Mack, there’s one thing we need to discuss,” Frank said. “We know that there was an argument about the marriage between Penny and James last night. Even Mack admitted it. Can you tell us why you were so quick to agree with Penny—that this plan you and the Duvalls had mapped out was suddenly up for discussion?”

 

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