Goddess of Justice by Dwayne Clayden (mobi ebook reader TXT) 📕

offenders. It’s like someone is saying, if the courts don’t take care of this, I will. But there’s no common ground, no modus operandi. Al Turner is the best suspect in this one.”

Brad decided he’d show up unannounced and hope to catch Al Turner off guard. He parked in front of the house and hiked up the recently shoveled sidewalk. The sun was fighting through the clouds, but there was still an icy chill in the air. He knocked on the door and glanced around the snow-covered yard. The fence was recently painted and the house, a bungalow, was well maintained.

The door opened. A lady, mid-forties with a tea towel in her hand, stood in the doorway.

“I’m Detective Coulter.” Brad held out his badge. “Is Al Turner home?”

She stared at his badge and wiped her hands on the towel. “My husband is asleep. He worked last night.”

“What time did he come home?” Brad asked.

Her lip trembled. “About seven-thirty.”

“Where does he work?”

“Invite him in, dear.” A man dressed in sweatshirt and sweatpants stepped behind the lady. “Come in, Detective.”

He showed Brad to the living room and extended his hand. “I’m Al Turner. Have a seat.”

Brad shook his hand and sat on the couch. The room was neat and cozy. Afghans sat on the couch and chairs. Family photos lined the mantel above the electric fireplace.

“How can I help you?” Turner asked.

Brad leaned forward. “This morning, Burke Baldwin was killed.”

“I see.” Turner paled, his jaw clenched, and his hands shook. He licked his lips.

“I need to know where you were last night.”

Turner nodded. “I was at work. I’m a mechanic at the Ogden Yards. I work night shift, eleven to seven.”

“You were there all night?”

He sighed and stared past Brad. “Yes, I was there all night.”

Brad leaned back and crossed his legs. “Someone can vouch for that?”

“Sure, at least ten guys. We were replacing an engine on a locomotive. We were together the entire night.”

“I understand you made threats against Baldwin.”

Turner nodded. Tears formed in the corners of his eyes. “Do you have children, Detective?”

Brad glanced away, thoughts straying to Maggie and what might have been.

“No, I don’t.”

“When you do, you will understand. My daughter was violated. Her attacker was found not guilty. His lawyer made my daughter the aggressor, describing her as a tramp. They destroyed her. Yes, I made threats. Wouldn’t you? Wouldn’t you do anything to protect your child? I was angry. I don’t wish ill on any person. I won’t shed any tears for him. But he destroyed my precious baby girl.”

“I’ll need the names of those men you work with.” Brad handed his notebook and pen to Turner.

Brad’s stomach rolled. He pushed down the waves of nausea. Turner’s words echoed in his brain: Wouldn’t you do anything to protect your child?

“Thank you for your time.”

He took the notebook from Turner and rushed to his car.

It was close to three by the time Brad was back downtown at headquarters. He bundled up against the freezing north wind and trudged down the alley. The blast of warm air as he entered the back door revived him. He stomped the slush off his boots and brushed snow from his parka, then pushed through the second set of doors.

The desk sergeant glanced up. “Detective Coulter. You have a visitor.” He pointed toward an interview room.

“Sarge, any chance you can grab me a couple of coffees?”

“Only because you asked so respectfully.”

Brad shrugged off his parka, headed down the hall, and peered into the room.

Sadie faced the door. Her red winter jacket was over the back of the chair, black gloves and purse on the table. She wore a white blouse with at least three buttons unfastened, and a black knee-length skirt. Her legs were crossed with one black-booted foot swinging freely. She flashed her bright smile. “Detective, I worried you’d gone home for the day.”

Brad sat, stretched out his legs, crossed at the ankles, and folded his arms. “Ms. Andrus.” He glanced around the gray walls. “What? No camera lights?”

Sadie pouted. “Your sergeant wouldn’t let my cameraman in. I could call him, though, if you want to do an interview.” She stared at the framed glass on one wall. “Or you could just have someone watch us.” She winked. “That would be fun.”

Brad shook his head. “No one is watching. How can I help you?”

“Maybe by decorating this room. The gray walls are depressing, and your cleaners missed a few spots of blood. Better furnishings. A metal table and three aluminum chairs are hardly in fashion these days.”

Brad rolled his eyes and sighed. “Sadie, what do you want?”

“You’re not much of a detective if you’re asking that question.”

The sergeant set two coffees on the table.

Sadie glanced at hers. “Any chance I can get cream and sugar?”

The sergeant’s shoulders slumped. “Oh, naturally. I’m sure there’s no pressing police business.” He spun on his heel and left the room.

“A teen was killed.” Brad leaned forward. “We don’t know who did it. We’re following leads. Anyone who was at the basketball game last night at Lord Beaverbrook High School and has information should contact the police.”

“You’re getting particularly skilled at that.”

Brad frowned. “Talking to the press?”

“No.” Sadie laughed, then pushed loose auburn hair behind her ear. “Stating the obvious and offering nothing new.”

“Then why are you here?” Brad slid a hand through his long hair.

“To see if you’d say something other than the obvious.”

“Did you think I’d do that?”

The sergeant dropped two creamers and two sugar on the table and left.

Sadie leaned toward the door. “Spoon? Stir stick?”

“I wouldn’t press my luck if I were you.”

“With the sergeant or you?”

“Sadie, I’m exhausted and swamped.”

Sadie poured the cream and sugar into the cup, then swirled it in her hands. “The murders are connected, aren’t they?”

Brad stared blankly as he sipped his coffee. Who would blink first?

Brad stood. “I need to go.”

“At least some of them must be linked. Someone hates sex perverts.” Sadie stood and stepped toward Brad. “Blink once if I’m