by Helga Zeiner
“Unfortunately, your aunt, being deceased, won’t be able to help us identify the Purple Shadow,” Macintosh says, already standing, “but we’ll figure it out eventually.”
“I’m sure you will; you’re not just a pretty face.”
That’s the truth too. His smile brightens and mellows his serious features, making him less of an old grump.
“Flattery will get you everywhere,” he says. “I do what I can. Don’t want to wait forever to go hunting.”
Stanley looks a bit puzzled but we both ignore him.
I promise Macintosh I’ll contact him in case something relevant comes back to me. I know already that the core of my secret will eventually be revealed—hopefully not for a long time to come. All I need now is a little more time—long enough to get through the trial. After that, who knows what will happen. They might never figure it out. Let’s face it, Macintosh didn’t ask the one crucial question. He never asked me if I now remember whom I tried to murder.
Chapter 50
The two men walked out to the parking lot. Macintosh had parked his car all the way down the private road, just before it entered the round-about leading to Fraser Drive. Dr. Eaton had his on a reserved space right in front of the main entrance. They stopped right there to say goodbye.
Macintosh fiddled to get his car key from his pocket before shaking the psychiatrist’s hand.
Dr. Eaton noticed the detective’s confusion. The conversation with Tiara had obviously unsettled him. He opened the passenger door of his car, dropped his briefcase on the seat, closed the door again and turned to Macintosh.
“Tiara is quite articulate, isn’t she?”
“Surprisingly so. She doesn’t sound like a normal fifteen year old.” Macintosh smiled. “I guess I shouldn’t use words like normal when I’m talking to a psychiatrist, should I? What I mean is—”
“I know what you mean.”
“Uhm. Yes, she is a lot more mature than most girls her age I’ve ever come across. I hadn’t expected that, not after finding out how secluded her childhood had been, with the little education she got, and after all she’s had to endure.”
Dr. Eaton was leaning against his car, a clear signal that he was willing to continue with this conversation.
“By the way, it was very considerate of you not to mention that we’ve seen the footage with the mask.”
“I’m glad she let it go.”
“It would have embarrassed her. She has a tendency to ignore what she can’t cope with.”
“I guess we can discuss this case now, you and me, right?”
“My assessment has already been completed and delivered to the judge. MCS Homicide Unit should have a copy by now—”
“It’s been on my desk this morning, and I’ve read it.”
“Good. So we can talk freely. What’s on your mind?”
“It’s beyond any doubt that Tiara has been molested as a child. I’m talking seriously, repeatedly molested from a very young age on, right?”
“Unfortunately, yes.”
“Has she told you anything about who the molesters could be?”
Dr. Eaton placed his words carefully. “She tends to forget names in an effort to depersonalize people. So far, she has only mentioned the name of her dance instructor, Tony, but as far as she is concerned, he was only close to her family circle and not involved in her exploitation. She rejects this notion, but we don’t know if that clears him of any suspicion.”
“You bet it doesn’t. We’ll certainly check him out.”
“Then there’s this elusive Purple Shadow, and you heard yourself that Tiara can’t even identify the sex of this person.”
Macintosh’s eyes grew dark. “Yes, I found that very interesting. A shame she can’t give us more information on that creep.”
“I suspect him or her to be one of the ring leaders of whatever pedophile operation was exploiting Tiara.”
“I agree. I’ll let the Sexual Offense Squad in Texas know about this Purple Shadow. It’s not much to go on, but it might mean something to them. They in turn will keep me informed, we’re working closely with them. Nowadays there are no borders when it comes to internet crimes, and everything points toward Tiara having been a star in one of those revolting networks. There are several videos of her being promoted as Princess Tia.” Macintosh shook his head in disgust. “I tell you, I’m glad I’m close to retirement. You’ve seen the video clip too. Stuff like that starts to seriously freak me out. I only hope we can catch those bastards. It’s a crying shame that the aunt is not around anymore, I’d have loved to personally put the cuffs on her.”
“Tiara was genuinely stunned to hear about her aunt’s death, but she’s shown little emotional reaction. One would think after three years her mother would have heard about it and told her. But obviously Tiara didn’t know, and wasn’t sorry.”
Macintosh scratched his chin. God, first thing when he retired, he would grow a beard, just like the doc, except his wouldn’t look so perfectly groomed.
“It did strike me a bit odd too. Tiara seemed surprised alright, but not exactly shocked. I mean, she didn’t ask what had happened and how it had happened and so on. It was as if the thought amused her. After what this woman has subjected her to, I’d think she’d be really curious how she died, kind of relieved, you know what I mean. But she was blasé, as if this was a good joke, entertainment, and not closure.”
He wasn’t sure if he had expressed his observation right until Dr. Eaton confirmed it.
“Exactly. Tiara acted as if she doesn’t believe that it’s over. Closure takes time. I hope she’ll continue a dialog with me, so I can help her along that road.”
“She sure got a tough deal so far.” Macintosh extended his hand. “She’ll need a friend when this is over.”
Dr. Eaton shook it. “More than one. I have a feeling she trusts you too. It may be good if you contact her again. Don’t wait until she asks for you. Her social skills are seriously underdeveloped and she may feel she can only ask for your visit if she has another breakthrough in her protective memory shield.”
“I will.”
Macintosh turned to go to his car, and Dr. Eaton walked around his to get to the driver side. He opened the door, hesitated and called after Macintosh.
“Detective. One more thing.”
Macintosh turned back and took a few steps toward the psychiatrist again. “Yes?”
“Did you get hold of Tiara’s computer?”
“She doesn’t have one.”
“She does. Not at her mother’s place, though. She stored it at her friend’s place, at Connie’s.”
“Connie?”
“A young woman working the Eastside. She let Tiara stay at her place when things got too difficult at home. You may want to look into that.”
“You bet. Thanks, Doc.” Macintosh hesitated, then he asked: “What do you think will happen to her?”
“That will depend very much on you.”
“On me?”
“Yes. You see, from earliest childhood on, Tiara has learned to consciously suppress emotional responses because she can’t deal with them. Whatever triggered the attack at the coffee shop has been so traumatic that it temporarily disabled her complete memory system. Her memory has opened up again; she already recalls much of her childhood, considering the short period she has allowed herself to do so, but so far she refuses to address the identity of the victim or the issue of her attack. It appears that she doesn’t want to deal with it, for whatever reasons, I do not want to speculate there. Her memory will come back, but possibly not in time for her court case. She simply doesn’t appear to understand how important it is to shed light onto what triggered her.”
“What are you saying? The court will find her guilty? A young girl with such a horrific background?”
“If her action at Starbucks continues to look like an unprovoked act of violence, the judge will have no choice but to have her committed. If on the other hand a clear motive emer
ges, especially one that points toward her upbringing, it becomes explainable and treatable and the judge will take that into consideration, and she’ll receive psychiatric treatment instead of a jail sentence. In other words, she either remembers and explains herself soon, or you figure it out for her.”
“I’m not sure if I can do this in time.”
“You better,” Dr. Eaton said as he got into his car. “I’ve done what I could from my side. It’s up to you now. If you want to help her, you better find out what motive she had for the attack!”
Chapter 51
Macintosh rushed back into his office, took Harding aside and quickly summarized his conversation with Tiara, making a point to mention the puzzling fact that the Purple Shadow might be a woman. He also mentioned Dr. Eaton’s comment about a young prostitute named Connie.
“Interesting,” Harding said. “I’ll let Josh know about the Purple Shadow possibly being a female, it might help his investigation. Let’s look into the Connie connection. I’ll spread the word on the Eastside. We have a few contacts there, but it might be difficult to get anybody talking. You know how protective this community is. And just ‘Connie’ isn’t much to go on. Would be nice to get hold of Tiara’s computer, though. Now listen to this: they’ve picked up Antonio Alvares. They’re interrogating him as we speak.”
“That’s excellent!”
“Josh said, he is taping the interview and will send it to us. The marvels of modern technology! We were even contemplating a video live stream, but that’s legally not possible. But we’ll get a tape of the whole interview as soon as they have wrapped it up.”
“That’ll go on for hours.”
Harding grinned. “Don’t you suffer from insomnia? It’ll be better than any of the crap on late night TV.”
Macintosh grinned back. “As if you’d let me watch that tape all by myself.”
“No way. I’ll sit right next to you and hold your hand, in case you get scared. I have a hunch that this interview will give us all the answers we need, if we don’t squeeze enough out of Melissa Brown to piece it together.”
“Is she here?”
“Room two, three doors down from her mother.”
“Perfect. Get your laptop.”
“Wait. Before we go in, listen to Josh’s briefing on the Alvares guy.” He glanced at his notes to support his memory. “Antonio and his sister Inez apparently are the last in line of an old Hispanic family with aristocratic roots. Unfortunately, their parents mismanaged their estate, or maybe simply had bad luck, and lost the family fortune. Which didn’t matter much to their offspring, as Antonio was kicked out at an early age, after his parents discovered his inclination toward ballet dancing. His much older sister, who must have been his biggest fan, left the run-down family ranch with him and somehow managed to put him through his dance education. Apparently, he showed great promise until an accident shattered his leg and his career.”
“Spoilt rich kid with a sense of entitlement, poisoned by artistic frustration—that’s a lethal cocktail. He’d do anything to get back into the good life. Those bastards have no morals.”
“And Tiara had the bad luck to get involved.”
“It wasn’t bad luck,” Macintosh said. “It was bad people.”
Chapter 52
Melissa Brown knew something was wrong as soon as Detective Harding had called, asking her to come to the police station. Riding the bus to Graveley Street, she had left several messages on her mother’s mobile, trying not to let her growing desperation seep into her voice.
Melissa looked around the interview room. Was Louise in a similar room, maybe as close as next door? She struggled out of her seat and walked to the door, but then decided against leaving. She would have to face the detectives eventually.
Waves of panic swept over her and she had to hold on to the table to steady herself. She managed to slide back into her seat, surrounded by the ghosts she had kept at bay for so long. Tony, Gracie and her weird friends, Mike even. How could she have thought to be rid of them?
As so many times before, her thoughts drifted back to that final week in Texas.
It had been a slow, boring day, like so many of them. Dry heat compressed life until it came to a virtual stand-still. Everything moved in slow motion, if at all. Melissa had spent most of the afternoon on the sofa, finally understanding why southern countries often were poorer and less industrious than northern nations. It was a matter of conserving energy. A matter of movement, or better, of non-movement.
Gracie and Tiara were out, and when they eventually came back, Tiara would walk straight past her, without giving her the time of day, and disappear into her room. Gracie would fuss a little over her, bring her some food and medication—nowadays Tiara needed a lot of that, she always had something wrong with her—and would then disappear herself.
On this afternoon however, the atmosphere changed as soon as they came in. Tiara had been crying, her cheeks and eyes were swollen and red. Melissa got up, shaken and confused. Gracie glared at her and said “we need to talk”, in a voice that didn’t allow any resistance, and escorted Tiara to her room. Tiara had often come back from appointments in an agitated state, but she had never looked that distressed. Melissa refused to be pushed aside and came in the room behind Gracie who put Tiara on her bed, making shooing sounds.
Tiara started to cry again. “Mommy, please, help me.”
“What is it, princess? What’s the matter?”
“I don’t want to do this anymore.”
Melissa looked at Gracie, confused and suspicious. “Do what?”
“He hurt me.”
“Who?”
Gracie pushed herself between Melissa and Tiara’s bed.
“Stop it now, mija. No point in dwelling on it. The pills will work soon. They’ll take the pain away. Rest now, I’ll talk to your mother. We’ll do something about it, cross my heart, big promise. Rest now, we’ll be back shortly. You’re safe here.”
Indicating that it was best to talk out of Tiara’s earshot, she dragged Melissa by the sleeve out of Tiara’s bedroom.
“What’s she talking about?” Melissa asked alarmed. “Who hurt her?”
“You don’t need to know. I’ll take care of it.”
“Care of what? This is my daughter. What’s wrong with her? I want to know!”
Once they were back in the living room, Gracie pushed her down on the sofa.
“No need to get your knickers in a twist. It’s nothing I can’t handle. Don’t worry about it.”
“Damn it, Gracie, tell me now or I go back in and talk to Tiara!”
Gracie positioned herself in front of Melissa, took a deep breath and then lunged at her like a wild cat, hissing and spitting.
“Did you see your daughter? Did you see how she has cried her eyes out? Do you have any idea what this poor girl has gone through?”
Melissa sat up straight and shook her head like a dummy, left to right to left to right. What was all this about?
“Tony, your precious Tony—and don’t think for one second I didn’t know about your sordid little affair with him—has done this to her!”
She understood right away what Gracie meant. “Tony wouldn’t touch Tiara. Never. He’d never do that.”
Gracie laughed at her. “Really? You think he’s interested in a fat slob like you? Don’t flatter yourself. He’s smoke-screened you, that’s all there’s to it. Do you honestly think he’d touch you if he wouldn’t be rewarded for his bravery? Look at you, you can’t even see your feet when standing up. Your sagging breasts and your giant gut are blocking the view.”
Melissa wanted to cover her ears. Her arms were like lead; her whole body immobile. She had to stay put and listen.
“God, that’s enough to make my poor brother turn in his grave. To open our house to a creep like Tony and let him molest Miguel’s own daughter just to satisfy your own cravings for a good fuck. You’re disgusting. It’s your fault, entirely your fault! I never wanted that creep
back in the house after I’d fired him in the first place. You insisted that we hire him again. Even after I got rid of him the second time, you let him carry on with your daughter right under your nose. Sweet Jesus in Heaven, how could you!”
Every fiber of her being fought the accusations Gracie was hurling at her, but she couldn’t react. All she could do was think: no way.
“No way,” she muttered. “He didn’t. He wouldn’t.”
“You bet your fat ass he did. I caught him. This afternoon.”
Melissa’s voice was a mere whisper. “How? Where?”
“At the studio. Usually the door is locked until the photo session is over, to make sure nobody interrupts. This afternoon, I came back sooner than expected to pick her up. In his sick excitement the bastard must have forgotten to lock the door. God knows how often this has happened before. To think I might have been sitting outside while this pervert … oh, no, it’s just too disgusting.”
“But … but what’s Tony doing at the studio?”
“He bought it a few years ago. I told you so. You never listen to me. He’s been doing the pictures.”
“No. I don’t believe you.”
“Believe what you like, you stupid cow.”
“He doesn’t have any money. He couldn’t have bought the studio.”
Gracie started to laugh again. This time, it sounded amused. “Well, he had the twenty-thousand you stole from me. He didn’t spend that much on your week-long love fest in the cabin at the lake.”
That was the point when Melissa’s resistance cracked. Gracie could know about her romantic hideout only from Tony himself. If she knew that, everything else she said was true too. Tony had used her to get to Tiara. The shame of it was excruciating, unbearable. Her whole world collapsed around her. To feel anything was too painful, so she felt nothing, not for herself, not for her daughter.
When Gracie left the house, she went back into Tiara’s room. She looked at her face, buried in white bedding with rainbow colored dots on it. Melissa waited for the hollowness inside her to fill with compassion, with pity, with something. It stayed empty, with just a layer of shame and repulsion covering its walls.