They crossed the lobby towards the guard’s station where Richard Dupuis sat reading a newspaper. Hearing their footsteps echo in the vast space, he looked up and imitated Robby’s expression of a moment before without even knowing it.
“Detective,” he said as he stood. “Up bright and early, aren’t we?”
“Morning, Rich,” Frank said. “This is Captain McCall and we’re here to see Jacques Bédard. What unit is he in?”
“Uh, let me just call,” The guard started saying before Frank interrupted.
“No Rich,” he said firmly. “Just give us the unit number and we’ll find our way.”
The guard hesitated for a second or two then said, “2502.”
“Thanks, Rich,” said Bakes. “And please, don’t call him while we’re going up. If you do, I’ll know it and will have to go official on you.”
“No calls,” the guard promised, raising his hands in surrender. “Elevators are right around there.”
They reached the twenty-fifth floor in no time and easily found 2502 as there were only four units on this level.
McCall knocked on the door and they waited no more than a minute before it was opened by Bédard himself wearing a sweat suit.
“Captain?” Bédard said in surprise. “What are you doing here at this time?”
“We need to speak to you, Jacques,” Dave replied softly. “In private. Is your wife home?”
“Well, yes, but she’s sleeping,” said Bédard, his expression one of annoyance, puzzlement and perhaps, uneasiness. “What is this about?”
“Is there anywhere we can speak privately?” the captain insisted.
“Very well,” Bédard agreed curtly. “Follow me.”
He led them down a hallway and through a very spacious, well appointed living room then through a set of french doors into a comfortable, fair-sized den. He closed the doors once they had entered and glanced towards the other door on the opposite wall, ensuring that it too was closed.
“Now, will you tell me what is going on?” he asked sternly as he gestured for them to sit.
“It’s regarding Pierre Lévesque, Jacques,” Dave replied. “By the way, this is Senior Detective Frank Bakes.”
Bédard nodded briefly at Frank then turned to McCall. “I was under the impression that we had settled any issues regarding my involvement, Captain.”
“Jacques, do you happen to know this woman?” Dave asked, extending a photo to the deputy-mayor.
Bédard took the print, looked at it and blanched.
“Michèle,” he whispered and looked up at McCall. “But surely, Captain, you can’t be wasting time on this kind of thing? What we do in the privacy of our own home is not anyone’s business.”
“Jacques, I don’t give a rat’s ass if you’re boinking hookers,” replied the captain. “I’m looking to get the person who killed Pierre Lévesque.”
“But this is ridiculous, Captain,” argued Bédard. “Why would Michèle kill Pierre? As far as I know, she didn’t even know him. What would she have to gain?”
“I don’t think that she killed him, Jacques,” Dave said quietly as he handed over another photo. “I believe your wife did.”
“Yvette?” Bédard raised his tone a little and stood. “I think I’ve just had about enough of this, Captain!”
“Sit down, Jacques,” McCall said firmly. “I understand that this is a shock to you but let me explain.”
“This photo means nothing, Captain,” retorted Bédard as he sat. “Michèle is friends with both of us. I don’t mean to shock you but since, as you said, you don’t care if I’m boinking hookers, let me tell you this. Yvette and I enjoy threesomes. Michèle joins us for these activities. We’re all consenting adults. Yvette and Michèle get along and sometimes have lunch or go shopping together. That’s all.”
“Jacques, listen,” Dave said patiently. “We know Michèle, as you call her, as Manon D’Astous. The owner of the car which hit Pierre Lévesque is D’Astous’ trainer at a gym. The owner keeps a spare key hidden on her car and D’Astous was aware of that. The owner was away on vacation when Lévesque was hit. Manon D’Astous knew that as well. I think that she told your wife about the car and key.”
“This is absolutely crazy!” Bédard raised his voice again. “Yvette wasn’t even in town when Pierre was hit. I’m starting to think that...”
He stopped as the door on the far wall opened and his wife entered, wearing a bathrobe and looking as if she had just awoken.
“Jacques, what’s going on?” she asked. “Who are these men?”
“They’re with the police and they’re here accusing you of having killed Pierre,” Bédard exclaimed.
Yvette immediately paled and leaned on the doorframe for support.
“Yvette, are you ok?” Bédard asked with concern as he went to his wife. He put his arm around her and turned to McCall.
“Look what you’re doing,” he snarled. “I should have listened to Bernard and submitted a formal complaint. This time, you won’t get off so easily, Captain.”
“We have prints on the key, the key box and the car, Mrs. Bédard,” said McCall, ignoring her husband’s ranting. “If you let us takes your prints, we can easily eliminate you as a suspect.”
“Do you think we’ll just voluntarily give you her prints?” shouted Bédard. “In case you forgot, Captain, I am an attorney and I’m well aware of the law.”
“We have enough to get a court order,” Dave quietly replied. “We have evidence and a motive. We’re going to get her prints either way.”
“Oh my God,” Yvette suddenly exclaimed and stumbled out of the room, the sounds of her retching immediately followed.
“You’re going to pay for this, McCall,” Bédard growled menacingly.
He turned to go after his wife but she reappeared in the doorway and waved him away. She walked unsteadily to an armchair and dropped into it wearily.
“Could you get me a drink, Jacques?” she asked weakly, looking downward, her gaze seemingly unfocused.
“Of course, sweetheart,” her husband said soothingly. “What would you like?”
She gestured impatiently towards a glass liquor cabinet to one side as she buried her face in the crook of her arm.
“Chérie?” said Bédard, puzzled as he stood by her then with an uneasy expression headed to the cabinet and poured a healthy shot of Laphroaig.
He returned and held the glass out to her which she accepted with downcast eyes. She took a sip, swallowed and coughed a bit then took another.
“Sweetheart?” Bédard questioned, crouching down by her to look at her face.
She raised her head and gazed at him with eyes full of tears.
“I’m so sorry, Jacques,” she said as the tears spilled over and ran down her cheeks. “I’m so, so sorry.”
Bédard stared at her for a moment then stood and walked woodenly to another armchair and sat heavily down.
“Are you alright, Jacques?” McCall asked softly.
Bédard waved his hand tiredly in way of response and stared off into a corner.
“I did it,” Yvette announced timidly. “I stole a car and waited until he came out of his house and then I ran him down.”
“What kind of car was it, Mrs. Bédard?” Bakes asked quietly.
She looked at him and smiled weakly. “You can call me Yvette. What’s your name?”
“Frank, Frank Bakes. And this is Captain Dave McCall.”
She offered McCall the same smile and said, “Enchanté, Capitaine. As I’m sure you might expect, Jacques has spoken of you.”
She turned back to Frank and said, “It was a Chrysler, a silver Sebring.”
“Where did you get the car, Yvette?” Bakes enquired.
“In the garage of an apartment block on St-Timothée,” she replied, her voice stronger following another sip of scotch. “I knew that the owner was away so she wouldn’t miss it.”
“How did you know this, Yvette?” Bakes continued. “How did you g
et in the car and get it started?”
She looked towards her husband who now laid slouched back in his armchair, eyes closed.
He didn’t move but after a moment, reacting to the silence, he said, “They know about Michèle. But you had gone to the cottage, Yvette?”
Yvette took another gulp of scotch, a deep breath then replied, “I stayed at Michèle’s that night, Jacques. She told me of the car, of the owner being gone and of the key.”
“Is this Michèle?” Dave asked, showing her one of the photos of the two women in front of the Japanese restaurant.
She looked at the photo, actually giggled for a second and nodded. “You took that picture the day after some cops went to talk to Michèle. She called me to go to lunch because she wanted to warn me about you guys.”
McCall rose from his seat and went through the french doors into the living room as he pulled out his cell phone. He punched in some numbers and was quickly connected.
“You’re on. Go get her,” he said into the cell.
~ ~ ~ ~
“With pleasure,” replied Harris from where he and Nelson were parked two houses from D’Astous’.
He started the engine and advanced the short distance required to be directly in front of D’Astous’ home.
“Hope that she doesn’t work from home as well,” Nelson commented as they got out of the car. “Otherwise we’re going to have some freaked out john.”
“It’ll make him think twice the next time,” Tim grinned. “Let’s get this lady.”
They rang the doorbell and waited a moment then rang it a couple of times again. After another thirty seconds, Joanne hit the button several times while Tim pounded on the door. A few seconds later, Nelson noticed the voile curtain in the window by the door move. This was followed by the solid click of a deadbolt being snapped back and then the door flew open.
“Are you fucking crazy?” raged D’Astous, wearing a short silk bathrobe. “Do you know what fucking time it is?”
“It’s pretty damned early, Mizzz D’Astous,” Harris easily replied, “Which is a good thing for you because you’re going to have a real busy day. You’re under arrest for the murder of Pierre Lévesque …”
~ ~ ~ ~
“Why did you do it, Yvette?” Bédard suddenly asked from his prone position in the other chair.
She smiled and closed her eyes in a feeble attempt to quell a new onslaught of tears but spoke in a clear, firm tone.
“Because the bastard tried to rape me at his Fête Nationale party last month. I went to the bathroom upstairs because the others were occupied and, with all those guests inside and outside, even his wife there in their home, he tried to rape me. So I killed him.”
Dave nodded at Frank who had assumed control of her interview.
“You’re going to have to come with us, Yvette,” he said gently and she nodded. “You have the right…”
“Frank, you can read me my rights when we get to the station,” Yvette interrupted. “I’ll just get some clothes on. I sense that you’re a gentleman so, if you think I might do something crazy, you can accompany me.”
She stood up and looked at her husband who remained motionless.
“I’m sorry, Jacques,” she repeated one last time then left the room with Bakes.
“Are you alright, Jacques?” Dave asked quietly once they were alone.
Bédard opened his eyes and straightened his posture as he looked at McCall. “This is quite a shock, Captain, as I’m sure you understand.”
Dave nodded as Bédard continued, “But, all things considered, I’m as good as one could expect.”
“Do you want to come with us?” the captain offered, “Or do you want me to call someone?”
“No, I think the best for now is that I stay here and digest all of this,” Bédard replied. “There will be more than enough time to get involved later. It is still quite early, n’est-ce pas?”
McCall nodded and rose. At that moment, Frank appeared in the doorway to signal that they were ready to go.
They left the apartment with Yvette and called for the elevator which was quick in coming. As they descended, thanks to the quality construction of the luxurious building, neither they nor any of the Bédard’s neighbours heard a sound as Jacques Bédard pulled out one of his guns, loaded a bullet and took his life.
~ ~ ~ ~
The rest of the morning had been a whirlwind of activity.
Yvette’s prints had been taken and sent for immediate comparison with those found on the magnetic box and spare key as well as others found in and on Joy Chang’s Sebring. Results soon came back with matches on a number of prints.
Yvette, who had refused the presence of a lawyer, had given the police a videotaped, verbal confession as well as a handwritten, signed one. Both confessions clearly implicated Manon D’Astous in the planning of Pierre Lévesque’s killing. However, Yvette insisted that she had committed the stealing of the car, the hit and run and the returning of the car alone.
D’Astous had been playing hardball most of the morning, denying any wrongdoing or implication but had grown progressively worried as lawyers whom she contacted, including James Conrad, refused to represent her, mainly on the basis that they did not know her and already had too heavy a caseload. The police now had required warrants and were busy going through D’Astous’ home and records.
Director Alain Picard and Captain Dave McCall had met in an urgent meeting with Ville-Marie Borough Mayor Bernard Laforge. The mayor had been devastated to learn of the true circumstances surrounding Pierre Lévesque’s death, from the attempted rape allegations to Yvette Bédard being the killer.
He had accepted and believed that Jacques Bédard was not involved or aware of what had taken place. He had however felt that Bédard could not be kept on as Deputy-Mayor under the circumstances and would have to submit his resignation. Conversely, he had been concerned about Bédard’s current state of mind and following a few hours of failed attempts to contact the man, had requested that the police send someone to look in on him.
The police had found Bédard’s body, an obvious suicide, which had simply increased the intensity of an already mind-numbing drama.
An impromptu press conference, once again on the steps of city hall, had been organized for one o’clock that afternoon with Borough Mayor Bernard Laforge and Captain Dave McCall sharing the podium.
~ ~ ~ ~
“Ladies and gentlemen,” started Bernard Laforge, “It is with great sadness that I inform you that the case surrounding the murder of Deputy-Mayor Pierre Lévesque has been solved.”
A murmur of puzzlement arose from the group of reporters as to Laforge’s choice of words.
The mayor raised his hands to hush the crowd then continued. “Through the incessant work of Captain McCall and his team, Lévesque’s killer was apprehended this morning and has confessed to the murder.”
He stepped back from the podium, took a deep breath, approached and backed away again then broke into tears. McCall went to the mayor as the buzz of confusion grew amongst the members of the media. After a moment, Laforge nodded to the captain as he wiped his eyes and left with several consoling aides.
Dave walked to the podium and the journalists fell silent.
“Ladies and gentlemen, Mayor Laforge has asked me to extend his deepest apologies. The morning’s events have been difficult for him as I’m sure you’ll understand in a moment.”
He paused briefly to align his thoughts then went on. “Early this morning, two individuals were arrested in relation to the hit and run which resulted in the recent death of Borough Deputy-Mayor Pierre Lévesque. One of the two has confessed to actually having committed the murder and that person is Yvette Bédard, the wife of Jacques Bédard.”
A frenzied chorus of gasps, comments and questions emanated from the gathering of reporters and other spectators. McCall raised his hands to quiet the group but several moments went by before he could continue to address them.
“Jac
ques Bédard was present at the time of his wife’s arrest this morning and has since apparently committed suicide.”
The sound emitted from the small crowd this time was more of a roaring, jumbled cacophony, a mélange of outcries, expletives and shouted queries with some reporters already on their cell phones with the breaking news.
“Ladies, gentlemen, please,” the captain called out forcefully.
“Why did she kill Lévesque?” a journalist near the front shouted.
“Did Bédard kill himself because they were found out?” yelled another.
McCall took a step back from the podium and let the group quiet down of their own accord. After a moment, he approached the microphone and pursued once again.
“Mrs. Bédard’s motives have yet to be substantiated so I can’t respond to anything on that subject. Based on the information we have so far, there is nothing, I repeat, nothing that indicates that Jacques Bédard was aware of his wife’s involvement in this crime. His death is currently being investigated and I have no further information at the present time.”
“Who’s the other person who was arrested?” yet another reporter asked.
“A woman by the name of Manon D’Astous,” replied the captain. “Ms. D’Astous denies any involvement but was arrested based on information and evidence accumulated to date.”
“Who does Mayor Laforge intend to name as the new deputy-mayor?” a newshound called out.
“That is completely out of my area,” McCall shrugged and smiled.
Several other questions and answers were volleyed back and forth and soon the media seemed sated on the subject.
“Are there any other questions?” Dave asked of the group.
“On another subject, Captain, if I may?” asked a seasoned crime-beat columnist. “Have there been any further developments with your investigation of the homeless murders in recent weeks?”
“Unfortunately, we don’t have any specific suspects or leads I can discuss at the moment,” McCall admitted. “However, the killer has become more careless recently, which has allowed us to collect more evidence and establish a better profile. We’ve witnessed a level of escalation in his actions which lead us to believe that, to use layman’s terms, he is losing it, breaking down, becoming disorganized. Hopefully, that will be to our benefit in the near future. Catching this killer remains our top priority and we’re doing everything we can to stop him before he takes another innocent victim.”
The Homeless Killer Page 16