“You think he’s guilty?”
“I didn’t say that. Martin insists he’s innocent and I haven’t seen anything to convince me otherwise. What I mean is, I still don’t know for certain what happened here or in Hunter’s Point.”
“If you knew for certain that Darius was the rose killer, would you still represent him?”
“We have a system in America. It’s not perfect, but it’s worked for two hundred years and it depends on giving a fair trial to every person who goes through the courts, no matter what they’ve done. Once you start discriminating, for any reason, the system breaks down. The real test of the system is when it deals with a Bundy or a Manson, someone everyone fears and despises. If you can try that person fairly, then you send a message that we are a nation of law.”
“Can you imagine a case you wouldn’t take?” Sloane asked. “A client you might find so repulsive that your conscience would not let you represent him?”
“That’s the question you confront when you choose to practice criminal law. If you can’t represent that client, you don’t belong in the business.”
Betsy checked her watch. “Look, Nora, that’s going to have to be it for today. I’ve got to make certain Martin’s bail is posted, and my mother’s watching Kathy, so I’ve got to leave the office a little early.”
“Kathy is your daughter?”
Betsy smiled.
“I’d like to meet her.”
“I’ll introduce you to Kathy soon. My mom, too. You’ll like them. Maybe I’ll have you over for dinner.”
“Great,” Sloane said.
Three
“Lisa Darius is waiting for you in your office,” Ann said as soon as Betsy walked in. “I hope you don’t mind. She’s very upset about something and she was afraid to sit in the waiting room.”
“That’s okay. Does she know Martin’s going to be released on bail?”
“Yes. I asked her how the judge ruled when she came in and she said you won.”
“I didn’t see her in court.”
“I called her about the court appearance as soon as you told me to.”
“I’m sure you did. Look, call Terry Stark at Darius Construction,” Betsy said, writing down the name and phone number. “I told him how to post the bail a few days ago. He’ll need a cashier’s check for one hundred thousand. If there are any problems, buzz me.”
Betsy did not recognize Lisa at first. She wore tight jeans, a blue turtleneck and a multicolored ski sweater. Her long hair was pulled back in a French braid, her emerald eyes were red from crying.
“Lisa, are you all right?”
“I never thought they’d let him out. I’m so scared.”
“Of Martin? Why?”
Lisa put her hands to her face. “He’s so cruel. No one knows how cruel. In public, he’s charming. And sometimes he’s just as charming with me when we’re alone. He surprises me with flowers, jewelry. When he wants to, he treats me like a queen and I forget what he’s really like inside. Oh God, Betsy, I think he killed those women.”
Betsy was stunned. Lisa started to cry.
“Do you want some water?” Betsy asked.
Lisa shook her head. “Just give me a moment.”
They sat quietly while Lisa caught her breath. Outside, a winter sun was shining and the air was so crisp and brittle, it seemed you could crack it into a million pieces. When Lisa spoke, her words came in a rush.
“I understand what Andrea Hammermill went through. Taking it, because you don’t want anyone to know how bad it is and because there are good times and … and you love him.”
Lisa sobbed. Her shoulders shook. Betsy wanted to comfort Lisa, but not as much as she wanted to learn what Darius had done to her to put her in this state, so she sat stiffly, waiting for Lisa to regain her composure.
“I do love him and I hate him and I’m scared of him,” Lisa said hopelessly. “But this … If he …”
“Wife-beating is very common, Lisa. Serial murder isn’t. Why do you think Martin may have killed these women?”
“It’s more than beatings. There’s a perverted side to … to what he does. His sexual needs … One time … This is very hard for me.”
“Take your time.”
“He wanted sex. We’d been to a party. I was tired. I told him. He insisted. We had an argument. No. That’s not true. He never argues. He … he …”
Lisa closed her eyes. Her hands were clenched in her lap. Her body was rigid. When she spoke, she kept her eyes shut.
“He told me very calmly that I would have sex with him. I was getting angrier and angrier. The way he was speaking, it’s the way you talk to a very small child or someone who’s retarded. It enraged me. And the more I screamed, the calmer he became.
“Finally he said, ‘Take off your clothes,’ the way you’d command a dog to roll over. I told him to go to hell. The next thing I knew, I was on the floor. He hit me in the stomach. I lost my air. I was helpless.
“When I started to breathe, I looked up. Martin was smiling. He ordered me to take my clothes off again in that same voice. I shook my head. I couldn’t talk yet, but I was damned if I was going to give in. He knelt down, grabbed my nipple through my blouse and squeezed. I almost blacked out from the pain. I was crying now and thrashing around on the floor. He did it to my other nipple, and I couldn’t stand it. The horrible thing was how methodical he was. There was no passion in it. And he had the tiniest smile on his face, as if he was enjoying himself immensely but didn’t want anyone to know.
“I was on the verge of passing out when he stopped. I sprawled on the floor, exhausted. I knew I couldn’t fight him anymore. The next time he ordered me to, I took off my clothes.”
“Did he rape you?” Betsy asked. She felt queasy.
Lisa shook her head. “That was the worst thing. He looked at me for a moment. There was a smile of satisfaction on his face I will never forget. Then he told me that I must always submit to him when he wanted sex and that I would be punished anytime I disobeyed him. He told me to get on all fours. I thought he was going to take me from behind. Instead, he made me crawl across the floor like a dog.
“We have a clothes closet in our bedroom. He opened the door and made me go in, naked. He said I would have to stay there without making a sound until he let me out. He told me I would be severely punished if I made any sound.”
Lisa started sobbing again.
“He kept me in the closet all weekend without food. He put in some toilet paper and a bucket to … to use if I … I was so hungry and so scared.
“He told me that he would open the door when he was ready and I would immediately have sex with him or I would go back. When he opened the door I just crawled out and … and did anything he wanted. When he was through with me, he led me into the bathroom and bathed me, as if I was a baby. There were clothes laid out on the bed. Evening clothes. And a bracelet. It must have cost a fortune. Diamonds, rubies, gold. It was my reward for obedience. When I was dressed, he took me to a restaurant for a lavish dinner. All evening, he treated me like a queen.
“I was certain he would want me again when we got home. It’s all I thought about at dinner. I had to force myself to eat, because I was nauseous thinking of what was coming but I was afraid he would do something to me if I didn’t eat. Then when we got home he just went to sleep and he didn’t touch me for a week.”
“Did he ever do anything like that to you again?”
“No,” Lisa said, hanging her head. “He didn’t have to. I learned my lesson. If he said he wanted sex, I did what he wanted. And I received my rewards. And no one knew, until now, what I’ve been going through.”
“Did you ever think of leaving him?” Betsy asked.
“He … he told me if I told anyone the things he did, or tried to run away, he would kill me. If you heard the way he said it, so calm, so detached … I knew he’d do it. I knew.”
Lisa took deep breaths until she was back in control.
“There’s something else,” L
isa said. Betsy noticed a shopping bag lying next to Lisa’s chair. Lisa leaned over and took a scrapbook out of it and placed it in her lap.
“I was certain Martin was having an affair. He never said anything and I never saw him with anyone, but I knew. One day I decided to search his things while he was at work to see if I could find proof. Instead, I found this.”
Lisa tapped the cover of the scrapbook, then handed it across to Betsy. Betsy placed the book in the center of her blotter. The cover was a faded brown with a gold trim. Betsy opened the scrapbook. On the first page, under a plastic sheet, were clippings about the Hunter’s Point case from the Hunter’s Point paper, the New York Times, Newsday and other papers. Betsy flipped through some of the other pages without reading the articles. They were all about the Hunter’s Point case.
“Did you ever ask Martin about this?” Betsy asked.
“No. I was too scared. I put it back. But I did do something. I hired a private detective to follow Martin and to find out about Hunter’s Point.”
“What’s the detective’s name?”
“Sam Oberhurst.”
“Do you have an address and phone number where I can reach him?”
“I’ve got a phone number.”
“No address?”
“I got his name from a friend who used him in her divorce. She gave me the number. It’s an answering machine. We met at a restaurant.”
“Where did you send your checks?”
“I always paid him in cash.”
“Give me your friend’s name and I’ll have my investigator contact her if it’s necessary.”
“Her name is Peggy Fulton. Her divorce attorney was Gary Telford. He’s the one who gave her the name. I’d rather you didn’t go to her, unless you have to.”
“The lawyer’s better,” Betsy said as she pulled a sheet of paper out of her drawer and filled in several blanks. “This is a release of information form giving me or my investigator the right to see Oberhurst’s files.”
While Lisa read the form, Betsy told Ann to have Reggie Stewart come to her office immediately. Lisa signed the release and handed it back to Betsy.
“What did Oberhurst tell you?”
“He was certain Martin was cheating, but he didn’t have a name yet.”
“And Hunter’s Point?”
“He told me he hadn’t started working on that aspect of the investigation.”
Lisa’s story had affected Betsy deeply. The thought of Darius treating his wife like an animal disgusted her and Lisa’s description made Betsy physically ill. But it did not mean Darius was a murderer, and she was still his attorney.
“Why did you come to me, Lisa?”
“I don’t know. I’m so confused by everything. You seemed so understanding at the house and I knew how hard you fought for Andrea Hammermill and the Peterson woman. I hoped you could tell me what to do.”
“Do you plan to tell the district attorney what you’ve told me or to give him this book?”
Lisa looked startled. “No. Why would I do that?”
“To hurt Martin.”
“No. I don’t want to … I still love him. Or, I … Mrs. Tannenbaum, if Martin did those things … If he tortured and killed those women, I have to know.”
Betsy leaned forward and looked directly into Lisa’s moist green eyes.
“I’m Martin’s lawyer, Lisa. My professional loyalty lies with him, even if he is guilty.”
Lisa looked shocked. “You’d continue to defend him, even if he did that?”
Betsy nodded. “But he may not have, Lisa, and what you’ve told me could be very important. If Oberhurst was following Martin on a date when one of those women disappeared, he could provide Martin with an alibi. Page is going to argue that the same man killed all three women, and he probably did. All I have to do is show Martin didn’t kill one of the victims and the d.a.’s case disappears.”
“I hadn’t thought of that.”
“When is the last time you talked to Oberhurst?”
“A few weeks ago. I left a few messages on his machine, but he didn’t return my calls.”
“I’ll have my investigator contact Oberhurst. Can I hold on to the scrapbook?”
Lisa nodded. Betsy walked around the desk and laid a hand on Lisa’s shoulder.
“Thank you for confiding in me. I know how hard it must have been.”
“I had to tell someone,” Lisa whispered. “I’ve kept it in so long.”
“I have a friend who might help you. Alice Knowland. She’s very nice and very compassionate. I’ve sent other women with similar problems to her and she’s helped some of them.”
“What is she, a doctor?”
“A psychiatrist. But don’t let that scare you off. Psychiatrist is just a fancy title for a good listener with experience in helping troubled people. She might be good for you. You could go to her a few times, then stop if she isn’t helping. Think it over and give me a call.”
“I will,” Lisa said, standing. “And thank you for listening.”
“You’re not alone, Lisa. Remember that.”
Betsy put her arms around Lisa and hugged her.
“Martin will be home late tonight. Will you stay with him?” Betsy asked.
“I can’t. I’m living with my father until I decide what to do.”
“Okay.”
“Don’t tell Martin I came, please.”
“I won’t if I can help it. He is my client, but I don’t want to hurt you.”
Lisa wiped her eyes and left. Betsy was drained. She pictured Lisa, hungry and terrified, cowering in the closet in the dark with the smell of her own urine and feces. Betsy’s stomach rolled. She walked out of the office and down the hall to the rest room and ran some cold water in the sink. She splashed her face with the running water, then cupped her hands and drank.
She remembered the questions Nora and the reporters had asked. How could she sleep if she saved Martin Darius, knowing what she knew about him? What would a man who treated his wife like a dog do to a woman he did not know, if she fell under his power? Would he do what the rose killer had done to his victims? Was Martin the killer?
Betsy remembered the scrapbook and dried her face, then returned to her office. She was halfway through the scrapbook when Reggie Stewart walked in.
“Congratulations on the bail hearing.”
“Pull a chair next to me. I’ve got something that might break Martin’s case.”
“Excellent.”
“Lisa Darius was just here. She suspected Martin might be cheating on her, so she hired an investigator to tail him. Have you heard of a p.i. named Sam Oberhurst?”
Stewart thought for a moment, then shook his head.
“The name sounds vaguely familiar, but I’m sure we’ve never met.”
“Here’s his phone number and a release from Lisa. Oberhurst has an answering machine. If you can’t get through to him, try a divorce attorney named Gary Telford. Lisa got the name from one of his clients. Tell Gary you’re working for me. We know each other. Find out if Oberhurst was tailing Darius on a date when any of the women disappeared. He could be Martin’s alibi.”
“I’ll get right on it.”
Betsy pointed to the scrapbook. “Lisa found this in Martin’s things when she was looking for evidence of the affair. It’s filled with clippings from the Hunter’s Point case.”
Stewart looked over Betsy’s shoulder as Betsy turned the pages. Most of the stories concerned the disappearances. There were several stories about the murders of Sandra and Melody Lake. A section was devoted to the discovery of the disemboweled body of Patricia Cross in Henry Waters’s basement and Waters’s death. Betsy turned to the final section of the scrapbook and stopped cold.
“My God, there were survivors.”
“What? I thought all the women were murdered.”
“No. Look here. It says Gloria Escalante, Samantha Reardon and Anne Hazelton were found alive in an old farmhouse.”
“Where
?”
“It doesn’t give any other information. Wait a minute. No, there’s nothing else. According to the article, the women declined to be interviewed.”
“I don’t get it. Didn’t Darius tell you about this?”
“Not a word.”
“Page?”
“He always referred to them as if they were dead.”
“Maybe Page doesn’t know,” Stewart said.
“How is that possible?”
“What if Gordon didn’t tell him?”
“Why wouldn’t she? And why wouldn’t Martin tell me? Something’s not right, Reg. None of this makes sense. Gordon and Martin don’t mention the survivors. The Hunter’s Point files have disappeared. I don’t like it.”
“I know you love a mystery, Betsy, but I see this as our big break. The survivors will know who kidnapped and tortured them. If it wasn’t Darius, we’re home free.”
“Maybe Martin didn’t mention the survivors because he knew they’d identify him.”
“There’s only one way to find out,” Stewart said. “Have Ann book me on an early flight to Hunter’s Point.”
“I want you to go to Albany, New York, first. Frank Grimsbo, one of the other detectives on the task force, is head of security at Marlin Steel. His office is in Albany.”
“You got it.”
Betsy buzzed Ann and told her what to do. When she got off the intercom, Stewart asked:
“What about the p.i.?”
“I’ll run down Oberhurst. I want you on that flight, first thing. There’s something weird about this case, Reg, and I’m betting that the answers we need are in Hunter’s Point.”
Four
Alan Page left the courtroom in a daze. He barely heard the reporters’ questions and answered them mechanically. Randy Highsmith told him not to take the loss personally, and assured him that it wasn’t his fault that they couldn’t find Nancy Gordon, but Highsmith and Barrow had warned him that he was making a mistake by rushing to arrest Darius. Even after they learned about the incident at the Hacienda Motel, the detective and the deputy district attorney wanted to move slowly. Page had over-ruled them. Now he was paying the price.
Page left work as soon as he could. There was an elevator in the rear of the district attorney’s office that went to the basement. He took it and dodged across the street to the parking garage, hoping no one would see him and ask him about his public humiliation.
Gone, But Not Forgotten Page 18