by Marja McGraw
Becky came after me, flashlight held high. Her steps were quick and full of purpose. Taking the offensive, I lunged at her, knocking the light out of her hand. We fell to the floor. I landed on top of her.
She was in a frenzy, having the extra strength that comes with losing control. She grabbed my long hair, trying to pull me off of her, and tried to get to my face. I slapped her hands away. Before I could make another move, she was at my face again. She raked her fingers down my cheek and I lost my advantage.
She threw all of her energy into rolling and I found myself on the bottom. I vaguely heard one of us grunting. We rolled once more, but she managed to land on top again.
She went for my throat and I was suddenly in survival mode. I brought my arm up and hit the side of her head as hard as I could. She didn’t even yelp. I was in trouble.
Becky tried to heave herself up for more leverage. I took advantage and brought my knee up, hitting her stomach and knocking the air out of her. She fell over on her back, pulling her knees up and trying to catch her breath.
I jumped up and ran for my backpack, pulling out my gun. She started for me again, oblivious to the weapon. I didn’t think anything would stop her.
Doug grabbed her and she fought him, digging her nails into his arm. She tried to bite him, but he pulled away.
“Becky. It’s me, Doug. It’s over, honey.” She stopped suddenly and looked into his face – and sobbed, the kind of cry that comes from deep inside. It was the most heart-wrenching sound I’d ever heard. It was the sob of someone whose whole soul was in the deepest kind of pain imaginable. Doug rubbed her back and spoke softly to her. They seemed to momentarily forget I was even there.
I backed toward the door, trying to remain unobtrusive.
There was a knock on the front door. I stepped back again and opened it. Don Chase stood there, a look of surprise on his face. I moved out of the way, and he entered the house with a uniformed officer following behind him.
“What happened to you? You look terrible.” He touched the scratch on my cheek, and turned and watched Doug and Becky. He heard her sobbing and seemed to realize something earthshaking had happened. “What’s going on here?”
“I…” I was breathing hard, most of my strength gone. “I need to sit down.”
Don saw the gun in my hand. “Put that away. Now. And I didn’t see it, okay?”
I complied and stuck the gun in my backpack. “I’ve got a concealed weapon permit. What’re you doing here? And thank God you are here.”
“I did a background check on Doug and Becky. Look. Tell me what’s going on.”
“Becky killed John Frendd. And she tried to kill me. I don’t – ”
He interrupted me and told the officer to read Becky her rights and place her under arrest. “Call another unit. I want to take them both in, and I don’t want them in the same vehicle.”
“Yes, sir.” The officer stepped up to Becky and Doug and spoke to them in a firm but quiet voice. Judging by Becky’s face, I didn’t think she even heard him. He placed both husband and wife in handcuffs.
“Okay, tell me what happened,” he said, turning back to me.
“Doug tried to confess to the murder. But it wasn’t him – it was Becky. She came after me with a heavy flashlight, ready to get rid of me, too. And we fought. That’s all I know.” And I wanted to know more. “How did you know to bring help with you?”
“I didn’t. A neighbor called Dispatch and said something didn’t look right over here. She’d seen Becky walking around outside, watching her house like there might be trouble. She said Becky was pacing and talking to herself. The woman was frightened because of the killing at Mrs. Knight’s house. I pulled up about the same time as the officer.”
“I’m glad you showed up when you did.” My eyes began to tear up and I turned away. I hated crying in front of people. I knew there was something powerful behind what Becky had done, and after hearing her sob, I almost felt sorry for her. I could afford to be more generous toward her now that she wasn’t trying to bash my brains in.
“I want you to come down to the station, too, Sandi. I need your statement so I can start putting this together. Do you feel up to driving, or do you need a ride?”
“I’m shaky, but I can drive myself. I’ll meet you there. I want to understand what happened, too.”
“I think I can probably fill you in on part of it. I came up with some interesting information on Becky’s background check.”
Chapter Fifty-five
Don locked up the Wilson house, and I followed him back to Covina P.D. I was pumped up and calming down at the same time, and anxious to find out what had prompted Becky to kill Frendd. Chase wouldn’t tell me anything before we left the house, saying it could wait until we sat down in his office.
“I’m going to talk to Doug, and if she’s able to talk, Becky. While I’m gone, read this.” He handed me an official report.
“What – ”
“Read it. I think it’ll explain a lot. I’ll be back in a while. In the meantime, Detective Sharpe will be in to take your statement.”
I sat back in my chair and began to read what would explain why John Frendd and Becky Wilson should have never crossed paths. It was a nightmare.
When Becky was a teenager, fifteen years old, a man had started to follow her. The problem was, she had an active imagination and no one believed her, including her high school sweetheart, Doug Wilson. And no one else ever saw the man. He made sure of that, only tailing her when she was alone, which also meant he was watching from a distance so he’d know when she was by herself.
But, being a teenager, she decided she could handle it herself. She tried to confront him, but he drove away before she could approach him. Unfortunately, she saw that as fear, which made her lose her edge. She decided he was just a dirty old man and she didn’t have a healthy fear of him.
This continued for about three weeks. One Sunday afternoon she was walking home from a friend’s house, and as she passed a grammar school, she glanced over her shoulder, and there he was. Only this time he pulled right up to her. She ignored him at first, but he paced her with his car.
He was getting on her nerves, and when she heard his car stop, after hesitating for a minute, she turned to make a rude remark to him. Unfortunately, he was out of his car and coming toward her. And his trunk was open. The teenager suddenly discovered what real fear was.
Before she could scream, he put his hand over her mouth and dragged her to the back of his car, shoving her into the trunk. When he tried to close the lid, she began to yell and tried to fight her way out of the enclosed space. He hit her a couple of times and told her to shut up, slamming the trunk lid before she could fight back.
He drove out of town, up into the hills, and he raped her. He beat her senseless and, with a threat that he’d kill her if she ever identified him, left her there. She passed out. When she came to, she struggled down out of the hills and onto a road where a county sheriff found her wandering in a confused state of mind.
The man was never caught, even though Becky ignored his threat and described him and his vehicle to the authorities. She never had the closure people talk about. She must have felt like she had that threat hanging over her head for the rest of her life.
I also read that Becky spent a week in the hospital. She had broken ribs, three broken fingers, cuts and bruises, and for the first two days she wouldn’t utter a word to anyone. It had apparently given her attacker time to get away.
That was Becky’s story in a nice, neat little nutshell, better known as a police report.
I placed the report back on Chase’s desk. I didn’t know what to think. It was hard to take it all in and relate it to her murdering Frendd. I knew there had to be some kind of thread linking the two men, but I couldn’t figure it out. The man who attacked her couldn’t have been Frendd, because Becky and Frendd were close to the same age, and it had been an adult who’d followed her when she was a teenager.
&nb
sp; Before I could take the thought any further, Chase returned. I glanced at my watch and discovered I’d been reading and thinking for an hour.
“Did Sharpe take your statement yet?” Chase asked.
“No. I’ve been sitting here contemplating the report you left for me to read. That poor woman. I can’t even pretend to imagine what she must have gone through.”
“There’re lots of things in life that are ugly, Sandi. And we, as cops, see them all. Count your blessings you don’t understand where she’s coming from.”
“Did you find out anything?” I wanted to understand Becky even more now. I wanted – no, needed – to know why she’d killed Frendd.
“We talked to Doug Wilson. His wife isn’t in any shape to talk at the moment. We’re going to transport her to the hospital. Doug is adamant that it’s not his wife’s fault. He says she had no choice, she couldn’t have done anything else.”
“I have a new respect for Doug.” I tapped my fingers on the report while I talked. “He was Becky’s boyfriend when she was attacked. And even though he was just a kid himself, he stuck with her. I think he’s probably tried to protect her all along.”
Chase cleared his throat and sat down behind his desk. “From what Wilson says, Becky eventually came around after the rape and lived a fairly normal life. Kids can be resilient, even after something like what she went through, at least on the surface. She was standoffish with most men, but she managed as long as they didn’t come close to her. He says she seemed fragile sometimes, but that came and went.”
I picked up the thread, knowing what he was going to say before he could open his mouth. “Enter John Frendd, who was harassing Chrissy. Maybe it was the harassment, or maybe Frendd resembled her attacker, but whatever it was, it set something uncontrollable in motion.”
“Very good. You’re right. Wilson says Becky became obsessed with watching out the window for the bum. She pulled a chair up, and Wilson couldn’t talk her into coming away from her self-assigned post. Frendd finally discovered she was watching, and he taunted her. He’d make faces at her through the window, and crude gestures. She didn’t flinch, but kept watching.”
“You know, I guess I’ve led a sheltered life.” The story I was hearing was so, well, ugly. Chase’s choice of that word had been a good one. What could have been going through Becky’s mind while she watched her neighbor’s house?
“Wilson said she became reclusive. She wouldn’t leave the house. She wouldn’t do anything but sit and watch out that window.” Chase picked up a pencil and flipped it around his fingers like a small baton.
“Anyway, to make a long story short, Frendd did show up with that necklace and he waved it in front of Mrs. Wilson’s face, at the window. Wilson says he saw a new resolve, a kind of anger. She seemed to take it as a challenge instead of a threat.”
“I guess I don’t need to ask what happened next, do I?” I knew she’d been the one to get down on her hands and knees at the basement window.
“Guess you don’t. Now you know as much as we do.” Chase looked directly into my eyes. “You knew. I don’t know how, but you knew there was something going on there. I couldn’t see it, but you did.”
“That’s because you have so many cases and so much ground to cover. I was able to concentrate on this one case.” And that was the truth. “Things didn’t add up. I had to find out why. I have to ask. Who was at the top of the list of suspects, Don?”
“Paley. After he talked to you, he came in and told me the story about his childhood. Wanted to start seeing someone to help him sort things out. I thought, half-heartedly, that maybe he thought his stepbrother was going to take what had happened to him in that house out on Mrs. Knight. But somehow it just didn’t wash.”
I gazed intently into Chase’s eyes. “I probably would have thought the same thing if I hadn’t had such a strong feeling about something being wrong at the Wilson’s house.”
Detective Sharpe arrived before Chase or I could think of anything else to say. I left with him and made my statement. Before leaving Covina, I stopped in to see Chase one last time.
“I’m driving back to L.A. now and wanted to stop and say good-bye. And thanks for trusting me.”
He nodded at me without smiling, and I left.
On the way home, all I could think about was the terrible things people do to each other. It didn’t make sense. A young teenage girl, changed for life by some monster. Why? I knew I couldn’t answer the question. Neither could anyone else. I couldn’t help but hope the man who’d raped and beaten Becky was rotting somewhere very hot.
I didn’t remember that Stanley was fixing dinner for me until I was about two blocks from home. I wasn’t at all hungry, but I’d force some food down rather than hurt his feelings. Even hurt feelings seemed like too much to deal with at that moment.
I pulled up to the house and saw the window repair truck pulling away from the curb. Stanley was standing on the porch, watching the truck.
“He wasn’t supposed to be here for a couple of days,” I said. “What did he want?”
“He said you told him you wanted the window replaced with one exactly like the old one. He decided he’d better come over and take a look. He measured and took a good look, and he said he’ll have to make a custom window to replace the old one. It’ll be ready in a few days.”
“Did he replace board I nailed up?” I wanted that board left up.
“No. I’ll do it for you after we eat. Although, since I’m spending the night up there, maybe we should leave it down. After all, we do want to find out what’s been going on. Maybe we should make it a bit easier for the intruder to return.”
“You’re probably right.” I sighed and walked inside the house.
“How did things go in Covina?” Stanley knew me well enough to see I wasn’t the happiest kid on the playground, and he was staring at the scratch on my face. His hand came up, as though he wanted to touch my cheek.
“We caught the killer.” I lifted my hand and covered the scratch. I wasn’t ready to be touched by anyone.
“And? That doesn’t seem to have pleased you. It should.”
“Stan, it’s a long story. Let’s eat dinner and then I’ll tell you how it went down.”
“Zippy. Dinner is served, Madam.” He led me into the kitchen where the table was set with my best dishes and silver. Okay, so they were my only dishes and silver, but he’d arranged everything nicely. And he’d included napkins, not paper towels, as was my habit. Leave it up to Stanley to make me feel better. I knew I was back in my own world, not the one that made me ache for so many people.
“So what’s for dinner, and do you plan on catching any ghosts tonight?” I smiled at Stanley as I realized I was actually hungry. I could feel for other people, but I could only live my own life.
He opened the back door and let Bubba in. “We’re going to apprehend someone tonight, I hope. I don’t think it will be a something though.” I noticed he didn’t tell me what we were having for dinner.
Chapter Fifty-six
Stanley and I ate a leisurely dinner. Life had slowed down, at least temporarily. I knew I’d have to go over and speak to Chrissy to let her know what had happened, but it could wait for a little while.
Stan the Man had prepared a repast of salad, fish sticks, canned corn and store-bought potato salad, and he was pleased with himself. If this was a sample of his gourmet cooking, I wondered what he would consider a fast and easy meal. And I’d thought he could cook. Live ’n learn.
Filling him in on what had happened over coffee after the meal, I gave him the basics, not wanting to go into great detail. I could tell by his reactions that it sounded sordid to him, but it was a part of life. Things happen. He seemed quite happy that it wasn’t a part of his life.
“I brought my sleeping bag.” Changing the subject, Stanley pointed to the corner where he’d set it. I could see he’d gone out and bought a brand new bag. It was still in a package and had tags on it. He wanted to ta
lk about cheerier things. I was glad.
“So what’s your plan for tonight?” I wanted to know how Stanley thought he’d accomplish catching himself a ghost.
“I have a simple plan. I’m going to stay up there and watch to see if anything happens. I’m taking Bubba with me, in case I need reinforcements.”
“Bubba won’t go up there.” I laughed because I knew from experience about the canine chicken. He’d only graced the attic with his presence one time.
“He’ll accompany me. All he needs is a bit of my special brand of encouragement. You’ll see.”
“No, you’ll see. I’ve tried to get him to go up there with me several times, and the closest he’s ever come is to lie down outside the door. And he only came that close when he was certain nothing was up there.”
Stanley’s lips curled up in an indulgent half-smile.
“Okay,” I said. “Wait and see.”
We finished our coffee and Stan cleaned up the dishes while I walked over to talk to Chrissy.
I told her that Becky had murdered Frendd because she felt threatened by him, leaving out most of the details. I did mention the necklace so the threat would make more sense. She was shocked, because Becky had seemed like such a quiet, sweet woman.
“But I know he probably made her feel like she’d been backed into a corner. That’s the way he made me feel.” She didn’t know the half of it.
Dolly walked me to the door. “I’m glad Chrissy isn’t a suspect anymore, but there’s more to this story, isn’t there?” She was such a savvy little old lady.
“Yes, there is, Dolly, but I don’t want to talk about it right now. Maybe never. What made you think I was holding something back?”
“I’m a pretty smart senior citizen. Been around the block a coupla times. If you ever do feel like talking about it, I’ll be right here.” Yeah, my elderly neighbor was actually a wise woman, although I didn’t believe she’d been around any block.
I returned to my own home and found Stanley unrolling his sleeping bag. He tried to unzip it and got the zipper stuck. Zippy!