Sixth Victim

by Kate Mitchell

  ‘I don’t mind.’

  Glancing where Mary Ann had seen Cecelia looking, she smiled. ‘Very well. I shall place the recorder on the table between us. My goodness, don’t you have lovely hands? I love your nails. They are natural, aren’t they?’ taking Cecelia’s fingers in her elegant hands she dropped them with laughter and covered her lips. ‘I must explain, sometimes as an actress, I need to work in other things to pay for this life. People don’t always appreciate one’s talent. Yes, I know. I have trained as a fully qualified manicurist. Here, look at my nails. I do them every day. Incidentally, it was when I was on my way to see a client that the Slasher took advantage of me. I had better switch on the machine before anything else. Do you mind? Could you hold for a minute?’

  Leaning forward, a tantalizing smell of perfume emulated from Mary Ann, what was it?

  A button clicked on the recorder.

  ‘One, two, three and now we can begin. You can start by asking me questions.’

  It wasn’t an order, yet this instruction provoked annoyance.

  ‘Can you go through your movements when you left your home?’

  ‘Why certainly. My name is Mary Ann Leigh. I am twenty-seven years old and unmarried although I have been asked by hundreds. Perhaps one day, the right man will come along. I believe, and I know it sounds old fashion that a lady should not be sallied. I nearly was that night. I am,’ she smiled perfectly. ‘A virgin.’

  Cecelia moved uncomfortably to be offered intimate details. ‘I can understand this might be difficult for you to speak about,’ said Cecelia gently dropping her gaze.

  ‘No, it’s not difficult,’ interrupted Mary Ann. ‘It angers me that I put myself into such a position. Luckily for me, I am healthy and fit, I was able to challenge him off.’

  ‘Can you tell me how it came about?’

  ‘He was in a car.’ Holding up her hands, Mary Ann extravagant and dramatically set the scene in her head. ‘I was walking along thinking about what I was going to do this evening when a car drew up by the sidewalk. You know how it happens?’ she shrugged. ‘He asked for directions. How to get to Temple City? I said I sure do, but you have the wrong road. You should take… and that’s when he said he couldn’t hear me; could I speak up? I do not shout especially not in a public place unless of course for a stage part. What a fool I was to go across to him. It was all over the news about the Slasher, but it’s the sort of thing that is never going to happen to you. Let me think of what he looks like. Good-looking, handsome men are usually not rapists of this type.’ A thickening frown grooved Mary Ann’s brow. ‘The truth is, I was beguiled by his good looks, so I went closer and bent down to his window.’

  Yes, I was foolish. He opened the door quicker than a fish slipping off the hook and pulled me into his car, taking me by complete surprise. I didn’t scream because it happened too quickly. Holding on to me, he drove off with his car door open. People saw what happened, but like all people these days, they become blind.

  ‘You were lucky.’

  ‘I was, wasn’t I? I kept my presence of mind.’

  ‘Have you given the police his description?’

  ‘They weren’t interested.’

  ‘So, why are you telling me? I’m not the police.’ Cecelia frowned.

  ‘You’re right, you’re not which is precisely why I am talking to you. I don’t like talking to men. Men don’t understand. They have no sympathy for what I have been through.’

  ‘But they need every piece of information they can get to find him. And so far, you are the only one who has got away alive.’

  She was sticky, so sticky; one of those people that when they caught hold of you stuck to you. It was creepy.

  ‘I suppose you’re right. I should do my duty, but then you won’t get that story you are looking for, will you? At least not firsthand. I recognized you as soon as I answered the door. You are Cecelia Clark. Wouldn’t you like another top story?’

  ‘How did you know about me?’

  ‘I read the newspapers; I remembered your name. You are much prettier than your photograph.’

  Her surreal bright blue eyes poked into Cecelia’s head to watch her. Extracting every expression skidding across her face. Then she lowered her eyes with some regret to what she was doing.

  ‘You have to forgive me; I have an actress’s temperament. I study people, it helps me reinvent myself. It can be very rude, I know, but it’s not meant to be unkindly.’

  Looking up to Mary Ann’s eyes Cecelia smiled then looked down quickly in modesty.

  2

  Now back home with much on her mind, Cecelia began writing down what she could remember of the interview. And it was complicated and long drawn out.

  ‘How can you write my story if you don’t know anything about me,’ said Mary Ann, demonstrating her acting skill efficiently.

  Cecelia’s inward sigh, taking a breath vibrating in her chest, politely listened as the plate of cookies was again offered. A respectful smile and a shake of Cecelia’s head followed by another refusal.

  The best decision Mary Ann had ever made was to study in England, although the digs were appalling. Being the only American there, she was spoilt and treated with special consideration. The best part of her experience there was voice training, the English said that she had a good ear for their accent.

  Then, Mary Ann tried out her accent; it was creepily good. She needed attention, especially Cecelia’s.

  ‘I would have stayed. I suppose I should have stayed, the English appreciated my acting abilities, but not back home in America. Because once you pack your bags and tell everyone you are going, it’s pride isn’t it which prevents you from returning. Here, the values are different, Americans want glamor, they don’t want true art. Now if I had been a man, my opportunities would have been different. Don’t you feel that? Aren’t you affected by prejudice? How long does prettiness last? If you are not lovely anymore, you are worthless. Don’t you think that? What do you think Cecelia?’

  Are you supposed to like the people you interview? When Cecelia’s eyes fell away. Lack of attention was an insult. Wasn’t Cecelia listening? Had she become boring? Yes, Cecelia was listening to her, but now she was… thinking. What was Cecelia thinking about which could be far more interesting than this woman?

  Overbearing, Mary Ann claimed all Cecelia’s attention and more. There was something about this woman which she didn’t like. Regardless of what had happened to Mary Ann, she was dull to the point of boring, in fact, she was vain. Her world was singularly small and uninteresting. Now Cecelia needed the bathroom.

  Climbing the stairs gave some relief. On her own was a time to do some exploring to alleviate the tedium of this interview. Mary Ann’s world of perfume continued above. To the left along the landing, a pink bathroom faced opposite, and to the side was a bedroom. The door was wide open was surely inviting anyone to look in. Yellowed sunlight blew its full impact on the white and frilly. Opposite the window was a king-sized bed draped in a white matelassé fabric. Elegant and over the top. Champagne colored carpet: the room was very simple and free from clutter, a white vanity table dressed and waited hushed in reverence at the window. A room that would not have looked out of place in a smart hotel.

  Headfirst, Cecelia poured into the tranquil and waiting bedroom. On top of the vanity table was a photograph. A young black American woman and pretty too, an easy smile traveled from the picture with relaxed sincerity. Very attractive expression. Intrigued, who was this pretty girl? She must be roughly about fourteen or fifteen or even a little older in this photograph, it was difficult to say. Picking up the picture, Cecelia was struck by the sweetness of this young girl’s large brown eyes, so full of hope. Difficult to believe that she and Mary Ann were friends or what part they played in each other’s lives.

  Snitching back downstairs, Cecelia needed to ask that question. Who was the photograph of?

  ‘Oh yes, Sarah,’ said Mary Ann when Cecelia admitted to going into the white bedroo
m. ‘You must have gone into the wrong room.’

  ‘Sorry, yes. I thought you said the second on the right…’

  ‘No, I didn’t tell you where the bathroom was. You saw Sarah, the best friend I ever had. But she’s dead now. She died a long time ago, over thirteen years. I still miss her which is why I keep her photograph. I am loyal and faithful to the people I love. And I did love Sarah—I still do. She was an angel who God felt he must call for, but too early and for me, sadly. But I guess the most beautiful people are often taken too quickly. I would say that God was an a-hole. But I guess, another way of looking at it is that she will never grow old; she will always remain young and beautiful. Isn’t that what everyone wants?’

  It was not easy to elicit anything else from Mary Ann, she was holding on to the rapist's description as if it were gold dust, teasing Cecelia with another of her recollections. Until finally, she gave a description. He was a white male and appeared to be family orientated, she thought this because at the back of his car and while he had his hands around her throat, she saw a doll sitting on the back seat. This was very distressing that this man had children. Vile, evil men.

  With an unbiased ear, Cecelia listened weighing up if she believed Mary Ann or not. Truth was, she was influenced by James Patts and his thoughts. Another thing, Mary Ann’s makeup just didn’t have the persona of a victim. And another thing, how did she escape so easily?

  ‘By the good grace of God, that’s how.’

  ‘Can you explain?’ Cecelia watched, waited, and noted everything about Mary Ann’s performance with her notebook in her hand.

  ‘He was trying to strangle me; I was fighting for my breath.’ As if to prove this, her breathing became quick and raspy. ‘I was petrified. I could feel his hot breath on my neck; I have never been as afraid as I was then. I knew he was going to rape and then kill me; I almost heard his words inside my head of what he wanted to do to me. If it was going to be, it was going to be. I stopped struggling because I was trying to work out what was happening. Oh, I don’t know how to explain how I felt. I knew if I didn’t do anything to help myself, I was going to die. It was dreadful. Unless you’ve been put into this danger, you will never understand.’

  Her eyes almost rabid looked madly around and then directly at Cecelia, she feared that Mary Ann would grab her.

  ‘I took the only opportunity God gave me to escape. I didn’t need any other hint and I was not going to hang around because he would surely take his opportunity. My hands dry with fear opened the car door and then I ran. I carried on running. I ran until I had no breath and then I ran down this side alley and sat down and cried.’

  And she did cry; it was shocking. Emotions were something Cecelia resisted because she didn’t know what to do with them. Her hand ran over Mary Ann without touching her.

  ‘There, there,’ Cecelia whispered, resisting touching her, ‘you’ve been very brave. Tell me more about this monster.’

  ‘I would say,’ Mary Ann touched her eyes. ‘He was about five feet ten; short brown slicked-back hair and a mustache. Caucasian and definitely America, and,’ she caught up and touched that memory. ‘He looked like Clark Gable; he also wore aftershave. While his voice was low and yet, sweet, and quite high toned. His hands were beautifully manicured. I would suggest he was an actor or businessman; he certainly wasn’t a laborer.’

  This was a good identity which Cecelia could show the police, they would appreciate it she was sure. Much of police work like journalists depended on the goodwill of informants. So, if this information was real, they had to do something for her. A telephone call to James Patts might give her an idea of what to do.

  ‘We can’t leave Mary Ann Leigh on her own as she is obviously going through a bad time,’ said Cecelia later, reviewing and crystalizing her thoughts every time she went through them.

  At seven o’clock in the evening, James Patts had only two minutes to go.

  ‘She has refused all help,’ he finished with a cough, a bad chill was making its presence. ‘We have offered Miss Leigh protection, but she refused. We can’t bully her into accepting, there is only so much we can do. The lady has rights. And besides, if you were to ask me if she managed to get away the first time, she can do it again. This lady can seriously take care of herself.’

  ‘Perhaps. She said you offered a male officer. She’s terrified of men since the attack; she doesn’t trust them.’

  ‘I understand Cecelia, but we did offer her a female officer, but she said no, she didn’t want anyone… we are not so stupid or cruel to impose a couple of male officers. We suggested officers sitting outside in their car. We can’t do any more than that. This lady can be very intimidating. I don’t know what the Slasher was thinking about when he decided to take her on?’

  ‘You offered her women police officers?’ Now, this was a surprise.

  ‘Yes, we did,’ James Patts hiccupped a dry cough.

  ‘Oh, I thought, perhaps Miss Leigh didn’t understand what you meant,’ Cecelia bit her bottom lip. Awkward was the word that came to her, Miss Leigh could undoubtedly be awkward. ‘She might not have understood the police force has female officers doing protection?’

  Another cough, William was struggling. ‘Look, I tell you what I can do, I’ll give you the name of a good female detective at the station. You will like her. She is into women’s rights and empowering women. Her name is Halleluiah Travis—yes, you heard me right. A woman from the deep South and proud of it as she is of her name and her birthrights. Dammit, I’m all over the map here, what I mean is take Detective Travis seriously because she certainly takes herself that way.’

  In the background, Cecelia heard Mrs. Patts telling her husband to hang up. Her concern touched on lack of sleep, and he was not going to work tomorrow. She didn’t care what happened to the police department; they would just have to carry on without him. The end.

  Again, that awful loneliness beamed out as Cecelia returned the receiver. A wife who cared about her husband and a man who loved his wife. It was at times like these when she felt very left out. Sometimes, it would be nice to have a friend, someone she could talk to, to help exercise those demons. Yet, Cecelia knew she wasn’t a sociable person, and making friendships was a misnomer. A surprising offer of friendship from Mary Ann must be considered. But no, no thank you, she was someone Cecelia automatically avoided. Yet she felt sorry for this tall, angular woman with long blonde hair. Poor Mary Ann.

  Daunted was how she felt going into the Alandra Police Department to talk to Halleluiah Travis. To get James Patts’s praise, this woman must be someone exceptional. You will like her, James Patts assured her which meant nothing to Cecelia. How was she going to talk to this professional detective, what did they have in common? Nothing. Someone had once accused her of being socially inept. It hurt immensely, but they were right.

  The only way to cure this deficiency is to practice. Exercise charm, and work on that smile, and look very interested in what people are saying. Be nice, be friendly, and stop gritting your teeth. Cecelia bit her finger suddenly aware that she was biting one of her beautiful nails.

  ‘You should look after your hands,’ Mary Ann cooed standing at the door ready to wave when she left. ‘A woman with pretty hands is lucky. She’ll get whatever she wants in life.’

  Which of course, wasn’t true but it was a nice thought to have. Perhaps she should put some hand cream on.

  Alandra Police Department was packed when Cecelia arrived. Other journalists waited outside for the latest reports. Another murder had happened. Late last night, a woman in her early twenties had been found murdered. A brunette with long hair was the latest victim added to the notorious list. People weren’t listening to the advice; everyone believes that it would never be them.

  ‘Can I speak to Detective Travis?’ Cecelia faced the reception.

  ‘You could do, but you’ll have to wait for your turn. Take a seat.’ The officer pointed without looking at her.

  ‘Detective James Patt
s put a word in for me.’

  ‘Did he?’ the officer looked up but wasn’t impressed. ‘Then I guess you will still have to wait.’

  Would being a member of the press affect him? Perhaps not. Perhaps she ought to turn around and go home, after all, her interest in this case only went as far as getting a good story. While her feelings toward Mary Ann were not that sincere, she took a seat and brooded about her conscience.

  Two hours later and with a feeling that she had done time for a crime, Cecelia returned to the desk. The officer on the desk had changed and she hadn’t noticed. A woman had taken the man’s place.

  ‘Excuse me,’ began Cecelia now indignant, ‘but I was told to sit and wait. I’ve been waiting two hours.’

  ‘Who have you been waiting for?’ Her dark brown eyes strode straight into Cecelia’s with a direct and targeted gaze. Nothing put this short confident liberated woman off or intimidated her which was why she was a police officer.

  ‘I’m waiting to talk to Detective Travis.’

  ‘And what is it you want to talk to her about?’ She asked without any change of expression.

  Eyeballing each other was unnerving. Her straight nose had a bump at the end as if to suggest that somewhere in her ancestry blood had been mixed. She was proud of these parts of her gene pool, they made her the person she was. And now her interested gaze was concerned with Cecelia and why she was asking. There was also a glint of humor in her eyes which was rather unsettling as if she were daring Cecelia.

  ‘Are you Detective Travis?’ asked Cecelia uncertain but willing to take the chance because she didn’t like being played a fool.

  ‘I certainly am mam. Detective Patts rang through and said you were interested in talking to me. Would you like to come to my office?’

  Detective Travis though small, was sassy and sharp. She had to be because this was a world where you fought to be acknowledged. One might call it a man’s world, but there again perhaps not, women had that interesting edge, keen fighters in their own way. But that wasn’t to say this officer had lost her femininity. Walking in front of Cecelia in her dark navy-blue trousers, she walked with a wriggle, where did she get her confidence from? Slightly overweight which was attractive. Her natural kinky very dark brown hair was set in soft waves giving her an appearance of both intelligence and attractiveness. A well-groomed, smart lady who made Cecelia feel that she had just got the better of her.