Bonne Femme

Chapter 19

Hopes

September 12

        Sun glinted blindingly off a camper ahead.  A strong gust buffeted the Cougar alarmingly as the clot of vehicles he was in staggered into a quartering wind.  An early cold front had deposited a dirty rind of premature sleet and pebble snow on the grassy median.

        Richard had been surprised that his news of the Scott connection to Mic hadn't elicited much of a response.

"So when will Marta be back?" he asked as he overtook a semi.

"Tomorrow unless she goes back to Merida with him."

        He knew Jill would miss Marta terribly if she didn't return.  Perhaps that was why she had been so subdued since he picked her up at the airport.  Or maybe the trip had given her time to reevaluate the situation.  Her unsettlingly cool demeanor enhanced his own waning optimism over what he had accomplished in West Virginia.

 

330.   

        Jill's reticence continued once they were back.  After she disappeared into the bedroom, only an occasional noise broke the illusion that he was alone in the house.  Unable to concentrate of the database he was trying to construct, he went to see if she would tell him what was wrong.

The door to the bedroom was closed.  He rapped softly, but she didn't respond.

"Jill are you all right?" he asked.

After a moment.  "Yes."

"Can I come in?"

"If you wish."

        She stood with her back to the door.  In the mirror he saw that she was clutching something to her chest.

"What's wrong?" he asked gently.

        "She did not know that I was there," she said almost inaudibly.  "Someone should have called me.  I should have gone back earlier.  Now she is gone."

"She died, Jill?"

        "No, but there is only to wait until it happens."  She sniffed.  "I am alone, Richard.  I have no one."

        He wished he could tell her that she had him, but of course he couldn't say that.  He ached for her pain, but there was nothing he could do or say.

        "She would be angry with me for saying that.  She always said that self-pity is ingratitude to God."

"Maybe you should go back until . . ."

        "Until the end?  No.  I could do nothing, and everything she sacrificed for me would be wasted.  She would be angry."

        She placed the picture carefully on the bedside table.  A handsome woman held a bright-eyed little girl on her lap.  Both were smiling.

        "I may need money for a trip back.  I have no credit.  Can you lend it to me if I must go?"

"Of course."

 

331.

"I am sorry to ask, but one must plan."

        There was nothing he could say to offer hope or make things easier for her.  He felt helpless, inept.  It was painful to speak and perhaps unnecessary, but Richard said the only thing he could.

"I'm so sorry."

She pursed her lips to keep from crying.

"It's not fair!  It's not.  It's not.  She did everything right.  She was so good."

He spoke without thinking.

"Then be like her.  Be the person she taught you to be."

No longer able to restrain herself, she began to cry.

"I am crying for myself.  It is selfish."

She turned her back to him.

        He took an uncertain step toward her, but stopped, torn between wanting to comfort her and fearing to intrude into her grief.

"Jill?"

        She turned and reached for him.  As he wrapped his arms around her she buried her face in his chest and sobbed.  He held her and murmured what comfort he could.

 

        Around midnight he heard the bedroom door open, and saw Jill coming through the darkened room toward the couch.  He sat up.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

She sat close but not touching.

        "There is nothing to say.  I just feel so alone," she said.  "I need to be with someone tonight."

 

332.

"I'll be here as long as you want me to be."

"Do not expect me to say anything to that, Richard.  I cannot."

        "All I want right now is for you to tell me about your Aunt Mirabelle.  Not the way she is now.  That's not how she wants you to think of her.  The way she was is who she is.  Tell me about her.  I want to know her."

        She began slowly, reluctantly, almost mechanically, but gradually the good memories came.  There was no laughter, but there was comfort.  Richard did nothing but allow Mirabelle's life to provide a comforting balm.  Finally, wrapped in her robe, with her feet tucked under her, and leaning against him, Jill slept.

 

September 13

        He awoke to sounds in the kitchen.  On his way to the bathroom he noticed a tiny red light winking on the caller id.  Wondering how it had escaped his notice last night, he checked it and saw that JR had called three times yesterday, the last time at ten-thirty in the evening.  Then he noticed the position of a switch on the phone.

"Jill, did you turn off the ringer last night?" he called.

"No," she said, coming in with coffee.  "Why?"

"Because it's off, and I don't remember doing it before we left."

        Goose flesh prickled the small hairs at her nape.  Her memory of the lingerie she had found carelessly refolded in her dresser when they first returned from the island refreshed itself. 

"He was in here while we were gone?" she asked.

"I don't know.  Tell me if anything's out of place."

        Mic's words from the clothing store echoed in her mind.  "You felt my hands on you, didn't you?"

        "JR tried to get in touch with me yesterday," he said picking up the phone.  "I'm going to call him back."

"Richard it's only five-thirty."

 

333.

"He's an early riser," he said, punching in the number.

"Richard.  I've got some news for you.  Can you meet me for breakfast?"

"News?  Yeah, I can meet you.  Where?"

        "Tell him to come here," said Jill.  "Tell him I'm fixing breakfast now.  I do not wish to be left alone today."

        There was another reason.  She feared that Richard might withhold things to keep from upsetting her.  She was having none of it.  Ignorance was no defense.  From now on she would learn all she could about Mic.

        "Come into the kitchen and help me get breakfast," she said as soon as he hung up.  "While we are waiting for him, you can tell me more about West Virginia."

        "Besides getting the sheriff interested in Mic, I discovered something else kind of disturbing.  A woman he dated said he showed her a police uniform, handcuffs, and a red dash light like unmarked units have.  So they may find out he waylaid women drivers under the pretext of being a law officer."

"So there are even more victims."

"Terrible, but if there are maybe they can connect him."

"Yes.  And what did you learn about the supposed murder-suicide?"

"That it was probably a double homicide instead, and that Mic definitely did it."

"How do you know?"

        "Because the suicide note was nothing of the kind.  Mic forced him to write it.  I know that because it contained one of his favorite phrases."

"Tell me.  Maybe I have heard it."

"I doubt it.  It was ‘she spreads her legs.'"

"Oh.  A gross sexual remark.  Is there more?"

        "He wouldn't show me the crime scene photos, but I saw a diagram.  Mrs. Scott was left in the same position . . . and condition as the picture he sent to your computer."

 

334.

"I see."

        "Carly was left in a similar, but not identical position.  All three were strangled from behind.  Of course she was already dead."

"Was Mr. Scott the intended victim?  He must have been if Mic followed him there."

"Not necessarily.  Mic may have seen her and fixated on her back in California."

Jill's face blanched suddenly.

        "He is fixated on me.  No matter where I go he will follow---even if I go back to France."

"I'll protect you until they catch up to him.  It's only a matter of time now."

"Yes, only a matter of time."

        "Well, JR says he has some news for us so maybe there's been some kind of breakthrough."

 

 Trophy Room

        The mid-town apartment had warmed while he was in the shower, but the floor was still cold.  He straightened one of the pictures, and stopped to look at it.  A dark haired one.  The smile looked almost natural, but the dullness of her light blue eyes reminded him of how difficult it had been to extract.

Cynthia?  Cindy?  Maybe Mindy.

She was the sprocket head with a soft spot for lost kittens.

        "She jumped out when I stopped to check the tires," he remembered saying.  "Can you help me find her?"

        She was the first after he got back, the one he had gone back to see.  It had been dangerous and stupid.

        He went to the dark room and took down one of the prints.  It was still too wet to handle, so he bent to examine it where it hung.

        I'm sorry that I rushed off without the camcorder, Brent.  She put on a good show for us.  I wish I'd seen if from your angle.  It was too quick, but you see, I was pressed for time.

 

335.

         He went to the living room and popped a tape into the VCR, hitting the stop button to keep it from playing before he settled into the recliner.  Before starting the tape he closed his eyes, remembering.

        I'm checking out the action at the pool, and she strips off the T-shirt.  She came out of it the way a rabbit comes out when you skin it.  She prances around the pool in that skimpy bikini---just asking for it, and I'm just the guy to give it to her.

"Step out of the car, Miss."

        She gives me that look, like she can charm me.  Well I showed her.  I showed her good.

        He opened his eyes and hit the play button.  The poor quality of the tape irritated him.  The lighting was bad and she moved too much for the stationary camcorder to keep her in focus.  Worst of all the sound was bad.

"That's not my voice.  Damn cheap microphone!"

        He muted it.  More than once he had vowed to burn the tape, but he couldn't bring himself to.

"She's flopping around like a gaffed fish!" he said in disgust.

        Maybe the cheap lens made her look so pudgy and pale.  When the time came, Jill would do better.

        You'll get a good show, Richard.  I promise.

Hopes

        "Maybe we're finally getting somewhere," said JR as he shrugged off his jacket and placed it along with his hat on the arm of the chair.

"They've found something in West Virginia?" asked Richard as he closed the door.

"Closer to home and more recent."

        "Come into the kitchen," she said.  "I have sausage and the skillet is ready if you wish to tell me how you want your eggs."

        "Over easy," said JR as he and Richard came into the kitchen.  "But you don't need to go to all that trouble."

"It is no trouble," she said, handing him a mug of coffee.

        Jill poured more coffee, including a cup for herself.  JR shifted uneasily in his seat and cleared his throat.

        "Miss Belbenoit, I don't know if it's a good idea for you to listen to what I have to tell Richard."

 

336.

"Nonsense.  Ignorance will not make me safer.  And my name is Jill, JR."

JR looked questioningly at Richard.

"We don't have any secrets," he said.

        "Okay.  A man and his wife were murdered over at Walker while you two were down in Missouri.  The details resemble the case from West Virginia except it wasn't staged as a murder-suicide.  Richard, what did that sheriff let you in on back there?"

        "He let me read the so-called suicide note, and he detailed the crime scene for me---showed me a diagram."

        "Well he sent us copies of the scene.  They're eerily similar to the scene at Walker, and a lot like the photo that was sent to your computer.  In all three cases the ligature was left . . . in situ."

"In situ?  You mean the strangling device was left around her neck," said Jill.

        "Yes.  And, like in West Virginia, the husband was killed with his own pistol, only instead of being shot like Scott in right temple, he was shot in the left.  He fired through a pillow to either silence the shot or to minimize blowback---maybe both."

        Jill brought JR's eggs and sausage to the table.  Then she sat and took a quick sip of coffee.

"Continue," she said softly.

        "Except for the effort at deception with the Scotts, the crimes were identical.  The female victims were stripped, had their hands bound behind them, and strangled from behind.  Afterwards they were left face up on the bed."

"What about the men?" asked Jill.

The calmness of her voice disconcerted JR.

        "Scott was sitting in a chair.  The Walker man was tied to one and gagged with duct tape."

        "We don't need to dwell on the details," said Richard.  "We know who did it.  You need to find something to make it stick."

        "Richard, the only evidence we have is one little scrap of circumstantial evidence, the circumstance being that Boyd knew Scott and was in the area there at the time.  That's not enough."

 

337.

         "He knew Rose Ford and was in the area at the time too," Richard countered.  "Besides her, you've got two identical cases.  That should be enough to get everyone going on him."

        "I overstated when I told you Walker and West Virginia were identical.  There was a major difference.  In West Virginia an important part of the paraphilia was absent."

"What is paraphilia?" asked Jill.

        "It's a thing, maybe a ritual, that the perpetrator does that is not necessary to the commission of the crime," said Richard.

"What was it?  What did he not do?"

        "He strangled Mrs. Scott, but Miss Ford and the woman in Walker were repeatedly strangled."

        "You mean he continued to strangle them after they were already dead like the girl in Missouri?"

"Yeah," Richard confirmed quickly.

Both men avoided her eyes.

"No," she said.  "He did it repeatedly while they were alive.  He tortured them with it."

"We believe so.  Yes, ma'am."

"Well.  I wanted to know, did I not?"

"The ligature in West Virginia wasn't rope either.  It was Mr. Scott's belt."

                "The deputy down in Missouri told me that the girl down there was posed also, but not in any effort to mislead the police.  I'll tell you about it later." 

        "This is ridiculous," said Jill suddenly.  "Just tell him, Richard.  It cannot be worse than what I already imagine."

He sighed in resignation, and began again.

        "He told me that she was . . . I think the term he uses was ‘messed with' after she was dead.  Her killer had taken her clothes away and put . . . scanty looking underwear on her bottom half.  He left her like they found Mrs. Scott."

        "He kills them from behind, but then rearranges them so that he can see their faces," said Jill with a shudder.  "What causes that kind of hatred?"

 

338.

It was difficult to believe that someone she knew could actually do such a thing.

JR drummed the table, lost in thought.

        "Richard," he said.  "Do you think you could run to the store or something so that Jill and I could talk in private?"

"Why?" she asked in surprise.

"Richard knows why."

"It's procedure, Jill, so that he can see how our stories agree."

"You think we would lie?"

"People influence each other," said JR.

"It's okay with me---that is if you're comfortable with it, Jill," said Richard.

"Of course," she said, still mystified.

 

Jill spun her ‘engagement ring' around on her finger unconsciously.

"I know you dated Boyd before you and Richard got together.  How long was that?"

"Several months."

And how . . . involved did that relationship get?"

        "You mean did we have intercourse?" she said without meeting his eyes.  "He seemed interested at first, but . . . it did not . . . we did not have a sexual relationship."

"Considering everything, that seems kind of odd."

        "You asked, and I told you," she said frostily.  "I do not wish to discuss it further.  I can prove it if I must."

"How could you do that?"

 

339.

She gazed at him steadily.

        "Oh," he said, feeling his face go red.  "The reason I brought the subject up was because none of the victims was sexually assaulted."

        "I have a superficial understanding of the psychopathology," she said, trying to turn the conversation theoretical. "I have researched this subject."

"Well then you know why I asked."

        "He seized me by my neck one night.  I thought he would kill me.  He was so angry . . . but the most horrible thing is that he was . . . aroused."

"Did you tell Richard?"

"Not that last part.  Please do not to discuss it with him."

"I won't discuss this with anyone."

"Thank you for that much at least."

 

Richard caught JR as he was about to leave.

"What did you ask her?"

        "About her relationship with Boyd and why she broke it off.  I take it you guys have talked about it."

"If you mean about him grabbing her by the neck, yeah."

        "I'll be honest with you, Richard.  I don't understand what a girl like her could see in him in the first place."

"He puts up a good front.  It just took her a while to see through him."

JR put the car in neutral. 

"That's not the only thing I don't understand here," he said.

 

340.

"Like?"

        "Like why doesn't he seem to mind all the attention?  And why did he come here since he's not enrolled at the college?  Another thing is where his money comes from.  Can you help me with any of that?"

        "I've been thinking that maybe he looked me up because of something he thinks I witnessed in Somalia.  Once he got here he fixated on her.  I'm afraid it might be something like with the shrink and his wife."

"Hold on.  I thought you didn't start seeing Jill until she broke it off with him."

"I didn't, but he knew I was interested in her."

        "The stuff in Somalia that you brought up---none of that seems prosecutable, so why do you keep going back to it?"

        "The way he acted after Jill quit seeing him made me remember something, and I began to suspect that he killed a Somali woman.  I saw him with her body, but I didn't see him do anything.  I don't know, JR.  Does it sound completely crazy that I just kind of collected all these disconnected pieces and gradually the picture got clearer and clearer?"

"Pieces huh?  You're not holding out on me?"

"Why would I do that?"

"You wouldn't unless you're as crazy as he is."

 

"You and JR talked a long time," she said when he came inside.

        "Yeah," he said, still trying to think of something that might have made Mic come to Cartier to find him.

"Were you talking about me?"

"He asked about you breaking up with Mic.  I told him what you said about it."

"That is all?"

        "No.  He asked if I knew why you dated him so long.  I told him we didn't discuss it.  We were also discussing what brought Mic here.  It had to have something to do with us in Africa, but I can't think of what it was."

 

341.

"I see," she said distantly.

"What did JR say to upset you?" he asked.

"He did not upset me."

"No.  He crossed the line somehow."

"He asked about . . . Mic.  I told him we were not intimate."

"Why would he ask that?"

"He thinks Mic may be dysfunctional."

"Well the literature says guys like that are often incapable of normal stuff."

        "I can read.  But this is not a textbook.  It is me.  I was attracted to him!  How can that be?"

        "Maybe you were attracted to an image.  He impressed you with a lot of lies about his compassion and stuff.  He can be charming."

        "I was attracted by his looks---his body," she finished sarcastically.  "I am naïve like that foolish girl we see him with."

"No.  He deceived you.  And I helped him."

She looked at him sharply.

       "Not intentionally, but by being with him I provided a kind of cover---like I was vouching for him, confirming that he was an okay guy.  I knew there was something wrong with him, and I didn't warn you.  I just hung around and . . . let it go on."

       She turned away. "What I did or did not do was my decision," she said.  "Please do not discuss it further.  Everyone knows enough.  I have no secrets now."

"But surely---"

"It is a violation, Richard.  Leave it be."