"Jefferson's in questioning room 3, so if Seabury and you want to go in, he's all yours."
"Well, I'm off the case-"
"Actually." Seabury materialized behind me. "We'll go right in. Stand up Madison."
"What? I-"
"Can it."
As odd as it was, I went along with it. I was pleased to be able to continue on with the case. Well, that, and see Thomas again, even if he was in custody.
The door let out a shuddering creak as it swung open.
And there he was.
He sat at the table, his head in his hands. He didn't even look up as we came in.
I shut the door behind me.
"We have a few questions for you." Seabury's firm voice echoed through the small room.
He grunted in response.
Seabury took the chair, leaving me standing.
"Why do you think you're here?"
Thomas' head went up and he eyed Seabury suspiciously.
"The officers said it was on a murder charge, which I didn't-"
"Ah! Be quiet just a minute." Seabury pushed his chair back as he stood. "Tell me why your's and Miss Lewis' accounts on almost every day of the murders differs."
Seabury pulled the tape recorder out of his pocket.
"I... You're dragging Maria into this?"
Seabury glanced back at me, giving me a look that he expected me to say something.
Oh, right.
"Tell us. If you can give us a reason then we'll let you go, uh..." I lost my train of thought as Thomas stared at me.
"If you can tell us, then we'll hold you until you are either proven guilty or not guilty of the Red Ribbon Murders."
That's what the press had dubbed them that morning. Took them long enough.
"Do you know how long you can go to prison for murdering someone?" Seabury slid his hands across the table, his rings making a sharp and cruel noise.
"Uh... life?"
"That's right. And we wouldn't want you wrongly accused... so spill."
"What am I supposed to say? I don't know!" Either he was a phenomenal actor or he was telling the truth.
"Seabury," I warned. "Can I speak with you a minute?"
"No, Madison, can't you see I'm busy?"
I rolled my eyes. "He's telling the truth."
Thomas looked in desperation from me to Seabury. Poor guy.
"Yeah, I get that. I was just testing him."
"We'll let you go. But make sure if you see or hear anything to come down to the station. Or call." I fished in my pocket for the business cards I know I kept on hand. And also a pen.
I scrawled something quickly on the back of it before handing it to the mystifying and innocent man.
"My landline..." I dropped my voice low, so Seabury couldn't hear.
"Yes, of course." He smiled. "See you around, pal."
His handshake was firm, it lacked no confidence. One of our parole officers escorted him out.
Seabury chuckled quietly to himself.
"What's so funny? Care to share?" I asked.
"You are most definitely on Jefferson's good side."
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"I think you know, Mr. "I give my landline away to potential serial killers." "
Blood rushed to my cheeks. And before I could think of a genius response, Seabury was halfway across the room, chatting it up with a secretary.
"Detective Madison?"
I turned to see a different secretary, standing behind me. She was newer than me. She wore her brown hair in a tight little bun and was taller than me, probably even without the heels she was wearing.
"How can I help you?"
"A report was just called in. I think its another ribbon murder."
"Where did they say this is?"
"Old 42nd street."
"We'll get on it. Tell forensics as well."
"Yes, sir." She nodded.
"I didn't catch your name."
"Todd. Dolley Todd."
"Well, thank you, Miss Dolley Todd." I smiled at her, before making my way to Seabury.
I explained to him what was happening and soon we were in the Hudson, barreling down the road.
"The murderer is working even faster now. I wondered what made him start killing like there was no tomorrow."
"Maybe," I said, "and this is just a hypothetical... but perhaps he's not right in the head and that's what made him do it."
"Well, no shit, Madison."
We pulled up on the curb.
A crowd had congregated around something and I prayed to God that it wasn't what I thought it was.
But, alas, when are my prayers ever answered? It was exactly what I thought it was; our eighth victim.
"Back up!" Seabury shouted. "This is an active crime scene! I need witnesses to gather near the fire hydrant for questioning and I need you nosy folks to go find some other thing to gawk at!"
Seabury's voice was loud and angry, so naturally, everyone complied. I scanned the crowd for familiar faces but found none.
The crime scene was investigated like any other crime scene. I questioned the witnesses and soon discovered that none of them actually saw anything. Anyone that really did was probably long gone. That was fantastic for me. Way to make my job harder.
We had spent probably four hours there when finally the cleanup crew was to start.
"Any ideas?" Seabury asked, appearing at my shoulder, as I gazed wistfully down the street.
"No clue. We know for sure now that Thomas Jefferson didn't do it. We had him in our custody when this murder happened."
"Yeah... but it's weird... we just talked to this guy yesterday because Jefferson knew him..."
"Wait..." I was hit with something. "James Reynolds... Elizabeth Schuyler... and now Benjamin Franklin... Maria Lewis knew all of them."
"But she couldn't have."
"Why not?"
"She's a woman... plus she's not the serial killer type."
"Why do you get to be the judge of that? What if her relationship with Reynolds went south, she killed him, whether by accident or purpose and realized the thrill of the kill. You have to admit... it's plausible."
"Okay fine. I'll get an arrest warrant. But if you're wrong, we're going to get a lot of backlash for arresting an innocent woman."
"I'm sure of it." I was about 60% sure.
"You better be."
"Threatening are we?"
"Yes, I am. Because Third is probably going to fire both you and me if we screw this up."
###
It was Seabury's night to work late, thank god, because I was exhausted.
I fed Oscar before climbing into my comfortable and familiar bed.
I was almost asleep when the blasted landline rung. I stumbled out of bed and picked up the phone.
"Hello. This is James Madison speaking."
"Oh, James! Thank god, finally. I tried 2 other times because I couldn't tell if one number was a two, five, or an eight. So third times a charm, right? Anyways, because I figure that writing and delivering notes is a lot harder, so I thought I'd call you."
"You do know that it is midnight, right?" I groggily asked.
"It is? I'm so sorry I can hang up if you'd like--"
I loved the way he spoke so frantically and excitedly over the phone.
"No, it's fine. What do you want?"
"I was wondering if you had any more leads on that case of yours."
"You know I can't tell you that."
"Well, bummer. I really hope you catch the man. Or woman. Everyone is on edge. Who's next? Is it someone's friend? Family? Spouse? No one knows. I heard there was even another today!"
Franklin was his friend... and he didn't know...
"Yeah... about that..."
"What?"
"The victim was Benjamin Franklin."
"What?"
"I'm sorry. I know he was your friend. I'm trying my best to find out who the killer is. We don't want anyone else to die."
His voice was flat, mono-toned. "I have to go. Good night."
He hung up.
I had the urge to call him back but decided against it. It was better to let him grieve on his own time. I was thankful that this wasn't happening in my town. Where all my friends and family resided. I couldn't even imagine the fear that everyone in this un-mapped town must have.
I swore to myself that night, that I would find out who was doing this. And prevent them from ever hurting one of these innocent town's people again.
I don't break my swears.