Chapter 49
Chapter 49
A death of a wealthy CEO and politician.
Everyone thought it was an accident — until the body was found hanging off a bridge, beaten beyond recognition.
It was murder.
She sat motionless on the couch, eyes fixed on the wall when they entered.
“Madam, there are people from the station asking for you,” the maid whispered. The woman blinked fast, like she’d been pulled out of a trance.
Ariel and Michael were already inside, standing near the doorway.
Mrs. Cole exhaled shakily and gestured for them to sit.
“I’m Detective Ariel,” she began, flipping open her notepad. “I’d like to ask you a few questions, if you don’t mind.”
Mrs. Cole nodded, dabbing at her red eyes.
“Where were you the night your husband died?”
“That night, I wasn’t home. I’d traveled three days earlier, planning to return on the fifth. But I cut it short and came back this morning after hearing…” Her voice trembled. The maid quickly handed her a handkerchief.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured.
“Did you notice anything unusual before his death?” Ariel asked.
Mrs. Cole shook her head.
“Alright, Mrs.…?”
“Cole.”
Ariel nodded, jotting. “Did your husband have anyone who might’ve wanted to hurt him? Business rivals, political enemies?”
Mrs. Cole hesitated. “He had many… as a man in politics, you make enemies without meaning to. I couldn’t name just one.”
Ariel scribbled, then raised her eyes. “The late Mr. Cole’s assistant — Gideon — was found dead at his home last night. Do you know anything about that?”
Mrs. Cole’s brows drew together. “Mr. Gideon? He was loyal. I never heard of any problems between them. But…” She stood, walked to her bedroom, and returned with an envelope. “I received this from him yesterday morning.”
“You were still out of town then?” Ariel asked.
Mrs. Cole nodded.
Ariel collected the envelope. “Thank you Mrs. Cole.“
“Anything else, I'll be glad to help. As long as the person he killed my husband is brought to Justice.“ She muffled with tears.
“Did the maids say anything about last night? Did he return home?“
She shook her head. “They all said he didn't return home, although, there are times he does that but I have no idea where he stays whenever he doesn't come home.“ She sniffed.
“Have you….had any issues with your husband before?“ Ariel asked.
She nodded. “We quarrel a lot, but that isn't the only reason he stays out. He sometimes has political meetings till late at night and just have to lodge at a hotel and return home the next day.“
Ariel nodded then closed her notepad.
Michael wrapped up the formalities. “You’ll be called if we need you again.”
As they turned to leave, Ariel’s shoe made a faint click on the floor. She looked down — something metallic glimmered under her heel.
A ring.
“Oh, that’s mine,” Mrs. Cole said quickly, bending to snatch it up with a nervous laugh.
Ariel smiled faintly but said nothing.
Outside,
The car pulled up before Gideon’s residence — a modest two-story house now cordoned off with yellow tape. They ducked under the barrier and stepped inside.
The living room was sterile, marked with chalk outlines and tags where evidence had been lifted.
Michael scanned the space, eyes alert. “What’s your read on Mrs. Cole?”
Ariel crouched beside the marked spot. “Something’s off. Her story feels rehearsed.”
He opened drawers, checked behind picture frames. “You think she’s hiding something?”
“I think she’s afraid of something,” Ariel murmured.
Michael crouched near the couch where Gideon had died. His flashlight caught a faint shine beneath it. He reached under and pulled out a ring.
“Bingo,” he said, turning it over in his gloved palm.
Ariel’s eyes widened. “That’s the same one she claimed was hers.”
Michael nodded grimly. “She’s definitely not telling us everything.”
His phone buzzed. He stepped aside to answer, voice low. When he returned, his tone had shifted. “Autopsy report just came in. Mr. Cole’s results are ready.”
Ariel’s stomach growled audibly.
Michael arched a brow.
She sighed. “Don’t start.”
He smirked. “Fine. We’ll grab something on the way.”
Thirty minutes later, Ariel was polishing off a basket of fries while Michael watched, arms crossed.
“Are you sure you don’t want anything?” she mumbled through a mouthful.
He looked away, amused. She kept eating.
When she finally pushed the plate aside, he paid and led the way back to the car.
The ride was quiet. City lights blurred past. Ariel’s head slumped sideways; she dozed off.
Michael glanced over and grinned. A few seconds later, his quiet snickering filled the car.
Ariel stirred as they hit a bump. She blinked, sat straight and turned sideways outside the window and then she caught her reflection — and froze.
Her face, in the rearview mirror, had circles around the eyes and whiskers drawn on her cheeks.
“Damn you!” she yelled.
Michael laughed so hard he nearly missed the garage entrance. He parked quickly and bolted for the station doors before she could grab him.
“I swear I’ll kill you if this doesn’t come off!” she shouted after him.
Inside, the medical examiner led Michael into the lab.
“On the neck, you’ll notice clear ligature marks — consistent with strangulation,” he said, pulling back the sheet. “It appears the victim was already unconscious before being tied to the bridge.”
He pointed to the torso. “There are multiple contusions and bruises — consistent with blunt-force trauma, likely from a rod or metal pipe. The legs were fractured post-mortem or very shortly before death, possibly from dragging.”
“Anything chemical?” Michael asked.
The examiner nodded. “Toxicology shows traces of a sedative in his bloodstream. Whoever did this drugged him first — he wouldn’t have been able to fight back.”
Ariel walked in, still glaring at Michael.
The doctor glanced at his report again. “Also, evidence suggests recent sexual activity — less than an hour before death. Semen and epithelial cells were collected, but DNA analysis shows multiple female profiles, which complicates identification.”
“Multiple women?” Ariel frowned.
“Most of them match victims from the club fire earlier that night,” he added. “The burns on his arm suggest he was there before the explosion.”
Ariel’s gaze sharpened. “Fire burns,” she muttered.
The doctor handed them a photo. Ariel froze, her grip tightening.
“Do you know her?” Michael asked quietly.
Ariel’s jaw clenched. “Yes,” she said, low and dangerous. “I do.” Ariel raised her head and shut her eyes, almost cursing under her breath.
"How are you involved in this too?” she thought, gritting her teeth.