The Third Victim

by Phillip Margolin

  “Yeah,” Robin agreed, but secretly she didn’t care what kind of trouble Mason faced if he was the person who had tortured Meredith Fenner.

  * * *

  “Detective White,” Harry said when he picked up the phone.

  “They were at my apartment. They tried to get me to say he’s innocent.”

  “Calm down, Meredith. Who was at your apartment?”

  “They work for Mason.

  “Did someone threaten you?”

  “No. Not exactly. But they wanted me to say it wasn’t him. But it was.”

  “Okay. Take some deep breaths. Now, who visited you? Did they tell you their names?”

  “It was a man and a woman. They work for that lawyer, Barrister, the one who’s trying to get Mason off.”

  “So they were investigators?”

  “The card says that Robin Lockwood is a lawyer.”

  “That’s normal. There are always two lawyers in a death-penalty case.”

  “I’m afraid, Harry. They know where I live.”

  “You’re not in any danger. Lawyers are supposed to interview witnesses,” Harry said.

  When Meredith spoke, he could tell that she was on the edge of panic.

  “I don’t want to be alone, Harry. I’m scared.”

  “Do you want me to drive up? I can be there by five-thirty.”

  “Would you?”

  “Sure.”

  “Thank you, Harry. Thank you.”

  * * *

  Harry White parked in front of Meredith Fenner’s apartment house and carried a bag of Chinese takeout up the stairs to the third floor. Meredith answered her door after one knock and greeted Harry with a wide smile. She was wearing a short sky blue dress decorated with yellow flowers. The dress had spaghetti straps and Meredith’s shoulders were bare.

  “Let’s chow down,” Harry said as he held out the take-out bag.

  “Thank you so much,” Meredith replied. “As soon as I hung up, I thought about calling you back and telling you not to come.”

  “Well, I’m glad you didn’t. I was going to spend the evening alone with a baseball game and a frozen dinner. This is a much better plan.”

  Meredith had showered and washed her hair. When she took the Chinese food from him, Harry caught the faint summer scent of her shampoo.

  Meredith walked into the kitchen/dining area in her small apartment. She’d put out plates and silverware. Then she divided the fried rice, kung pao chicken, and pork lo mein between them.

  “Do you want some tea?” she asked.

  “Water is fine. I’m glad to see you’re feeling better.”

  “I shouldn’t have panicked like that,” she said as she ladled wonton soup into two bowls. “I feel really stupid.”

  “You should never feel stupid, Meredith. After what you’ve been through, it was natural for you to get upset. Someone should have warned you that Mason’s people would try to interview you.”

  “I read the articles in the paper about Regina Barrister. Is she as good as they say? Can she … Is there a chance he won’t go to jail?”

  “Kyle Bergland is good, too.”

  “But do they have enough to convict him?”

  “Yes, thanks to you. You’re the star of the show, Meredith. Women who might have been kidnapped and tortured by Alex Mason are going to be safe because of you.”

  Meredith looked down. “I’m not that important.”

  Harry smiled. “Don’t kid yourself. Alex Mason made a big mistake when he tangled with you. You’re one tough cookie.”

  Meredith looked across the table and returned the smile. “Thank you, Harry.”

  Harry felt his heart beat faster. Then he caught himself. Meredith was a witness in a murder case. Nothing could happen between them while the case was active. If he got romantically involved with a witness, it could destroy the case against Mason.

  “How’s work?” the detective asked, wanting to change the subject.

  Meredith cast her eyes down. “I quit. The people who own the coffee shop were nice. They said I could come back. I tried. I worked for one day, but I was too frightened. When I went to my car after work … I know Mason is locked up, but I could feel him there. I couldn’t do it.”

  “I can understand that. Are you looking for work?”

  “Just around here. There’s a restaurant looking for a waitress. I put in an application.”

  “What about moving out of Portland? Have you thought about that? Maybe a change of scenery—getting away from where all the bad things happened—would help.”

  “I have thought about moving, but I should stay here to help the police until the trial is over. When it’s over, when … that man is … gone, I’ll think about what I want to do.”

  Harry thought about what he wanted to say and whether he should say it. He knew it probably wasn’t the right thing to say, but he decided to say it anyway.

  “I think you’re very brave, Meredith, but it’s natural for you to be frightened after what you’ve gone through, and anytime you’re scared, you can call me and we can talk. Don’t ever think you’re imposing or wasting my time. I’m here for you.”

  “Thanks, Harry.” Meredith hesitated. “There is something.”

  “What do you want?”

  “I’d feel a lot better—a lot less frightened—if I knew Mason was going to be convicted. I don’t know if you can, but I’d like to see the evidence they have. Is there some way I could do that?”

  Harry’s brow furrowed. “Do you mean the physical evidence?”

  “Oh, no. But don’t you write police reports? Isn’t there a record of what the witnesses say or if he made a confession?”

  “Sure, but you probably shouldn’t see those.”

  “I don’t want to get you in trouble, but I keep on thinking that Regina Barrister will get him off. If I knew that Mr. Bergland’s case was strong…”

  Her voice trailed off and Meredith looked down again. “Forget I asked.”

  Harry could see how scared she was.

  “Let me see what I can do,” he said.

  When Meredith raised her head, the fear was gone. “Thank you so much. I don’t know if I could have gotten through this without you.”

  “Yeah, well, our motto is ‘Protect and Serve,’” Harry said, glad that he’d been able to make her smile. “I’m just doing my job, ma’am.”

  “How did you get into police work?” Meredith asked.

  “Process of elimination,” Harry said, grateful for the change of subject.

  “I was the big man on campus at Whisper Lake High,” Harry said with a wistful smile. “Prom king and the star of the football, basketball, and baseball teams. Unfortunately, our high school played in the smallest league in the state. I was a superstar at that level, but I didn’t stack up to the studs in the other leagues. So no college was beating down my door with a scholarship offer. My folks were just scraping by and my grades weren’t so hot. Without a scholarship, college was just a dream, so I enlisted in the marines and got my first taste of police work as an MP.

  “When my hitch ended, I returned home with no job and no plans. One night, when I was nursing a beer in the Golden Elk Tavern and feeling sorry for myself, Greg Fadley, an old high school teammate, told me to apply for a position at the Hammond County Sheriff’s Office.” Harry shrugged. “The rest is history.”

  “Well, I’m glad you didn’t get that scholarship. If you had, I’d never have met you.”

  Meredith smiled and Harry blushed.

  “How do you like the food?” he asked, because he was afraid of where the conversation might go.

  “It’s good.” Meredith held his gaze for a moment. Then she stood up and walked to a kitchen drawer. “I think we need some napkins.”

  As soon as her back was to him, Harry took a deep breath.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Carrie Anders went to the address Jackson Wright had given her and parked her car. The apartment was over a grocery store in
a run-down area of Portland on the east side of the river. Two men came out of the store. They were carrying beer and their clothes were ragged. When Kyle Bergland got out, they eyed him suspiciously. When Carrie got out, the men smelled cop and hurried down the street.

  “What’s her name again?” Bergland asked.

  “Mordessa Carpenter.”

  “And she’ll talk to us?”

  “That’s what Wright said.”

  Mordessa lived in apartment 3A on the third floor of a three-story walk-up. There were buzzers for each apartment and hand-lettered last names in the slots above some of the buttons. There was no name in the slot for 3A. Carrie pushed the buzzer twice before she heard a click and the front door opened.

  The sour smell of cigarette smoke, canned soup, and garbage permeated the stairwell. A tall black woman, her hair in cornrows, was standing in the doorway of 3A when the detective and the DA got to the third-floor landing. She was wearing tight jeans and a red tank top. Carrie figured she was in her late teens or early twenties. She had large breasts and a full figure, and her face would have been pleasant-looking if it weren’t for the reminders of the beating Arnold Prater had administered.

  Mordessa had tried to disguise the scars and bruises with makeup, but that hadn’t worked that well. The damage reminded Carrie of Meredith Fenner’s wounds.

  “Miss Carpenter?” Carrie asked.

  The woman nodded.

  “I’m Detective Carrie Anders,” she said as she held up her ID. “This is Deputy District Attorney Kyle Bergland.”

  “Jackson said you’d be coming,” Mordessa said. “Step inside. I don’t want nobody to hear my business. They’s some busybodies on this floor.”

  Mordessa leaned back to let the detective and prosecutor enter. Her small apartment was spotless. The furniture was cheap but well cared for. Their host gestured toward a sofa and sat in a straight-backed chair. A romance novel and copies of Us Weekly and In Touch were stacked neatly on an end table next to the sofa.

  “So, what you want to talk about?” Mordessa asked.

  “Mr. Wright told us that you had a problem with Arnold Prater.”

  Mordessa burst out with a humorless laugh. “That’s what he called it, ‘a problem’? The motherfucker beat me senseless. If Miles didn’t stop him, I could be dead now or brain-damaged.”

  “Can you tell us what Prater did to you?” Kyle asked.

  Mordessa shook her head. “I told Miles I didn’t want no part of that man, but he said I got to go with him. He said he’d talked to him and there wouldn’t be no violence.” She shook her head again. “I shoulda put my foot down.”

  “Had you met Prater before?” Carrie asked.

  “No, but he’s got a reputation.”

  “Oh?”

  “He gets off on beating women.” She shook her head again. “He sure lived up to his rep.”

  “What happened?” Carrie asked.

  “Miles brought him up to the motel room. He was real pleasant and gentlemanly when he come in. Then Miles left and he changed. First he ordered me to get naked. Then he told me to get on the bed on my back. I did what he said. Then he took out his handcuffs. That scared me. I asked what he was planning to do and he said to shut up and lie back down. I started to tell him I wasn’t into that shit, and that’s when he hit me in the stomach. I couldn’t breathe and I flopped back on the bed. He slapped me hard and said I should do as I was told and stop talking.

  “Now I was real scared, but I was weak from lack of air and I couldn’t fight him when he wrestled my hands to the headboard and snapped on the cuffs. I got my wind back and screamed for Miles, and that’s when he hit me in the mouth.”

  Mordessa opened wide and showed them the gap where one of her teeth had been.

  “He said there would be more of that if I didn’t keep my mouth shut, so I stopped talking. As soon as I was cuffed, he got naked. I figured I’d let him fuck me and get it over with. I hoped he’d stop hurting me once he was done. But he didn’t get on the bed.”

  Mordessa stopped and took a breath. Carrie could see that reliving the experience had shaken her.

  “What did he do to you?” Carrie asked gently.

  “He…” Mordessa licked her lips and looked down. When she spoke, her voice was only a shade higher than a whisper. “He burned me.”

  “With what?”

  “A cigarette. When he took it out of the pack, I hoped he was gonna smoke, but he got the tip real hot and jabbed it onto my nipple. I shrieked and he busted my nose. Then he did it again and I screamed again and that’s when Miles come in, pointed his gun at Prater’s balls, and said he’d shoot him if he didn’t stop.”

  “What did Prater do?”

  “Miles been paying him off. That’s what I was, a payoff, a free fuck so he would let Miles do his business. Anyway, Prater said he’d shut Miles down, and Miles said Prater couldn’t afford that shit ’cause he paid him too much money to look the other way. So they reached an agreement. Miles gave Prater two hundred bucks to leave.”

  Mordessa lost her composure and started to cry.

  “That’s how Miles saved me.” She wiped her eyes. “And now that bastard went and killed him.” She looked at Bergland. “I hope he dies and goes to hell. He’s a bad, evil motherfucker.”

  Mordessa took several deep breaths. “I’m sorry,” she said, “but Miles always been good to me.”

  “You have nothing to apologize for,” Carrie said. “It sounds like Prater put you through hell. Do you want some water? Do you want to take a break?”

  Mordessa looked into Carrie’s eyes, anger replacing despair. “I want that motherfucker dead for what he done to Miles. And I was there when he said he was gonna do it.”

  “Prater said he was going to kill Miles?” Carrie asked.

  “Oh yeah. He did. Not in so many words, but I heard him tell Miles he was gonna be sorry for busting up his fun. He said Miles gonna regret what he done.”

  “And you’ll tell this to a grand jury?” Carrie asked.

  Mordessa hesitated.

  “We can’t get him without your help. Your testimony provides the motive for the murder.”

  Mordessa looked torn. Then she nodded.

  “I have a question for you, Miss Carpenter, that has nothing to do with the murder of Mr. Poe,” Kyle Bergland said. “Did you know a woman named Patricia Rawls or another woman named Tonya Benson?”

  Mordessa’s shoulders slumped and her eyes teared up again.

  “That poor girl didn’t deserve that.”

  “Who didn’t?” Bergland asked.

  “Tonya.”

  “So you knew her?”

  Mordessa nodded.

  “Do you know anything that might help us figure out who killed her?”

  “Ain’t it that lawyer?”

  “We think so, but we can use any help you can give us.”

  Mordessa hesitated.

  “If you know something, please tell us,” Carrie said. “We want to get the person who killed Tonya as much as we want to get Prater for killing Miles.”

  “I might know something.”

  “Go ahead.”

  “I might have seen the person who took her.”

  “Why haven’t you said something?” Bergland blurted out.

  “I don’t have nothing to do with no police. I’m only talking to you because Jackson says I got to.”

  “Okay,” Carrie said, “I get that. But we’re talking now. So what did you see?”

  “The night Tonya disappeared, we was working our area. It was dark and I was on another corner when this car drove past me and stopped by Tonya. She leaned in the passenger side. Then she got in and the car drove off.”

  “Do you know what kind of car Tonya went off in?” Carrie asked.

  “It was black and foreign. A fancy car. But I can’t tell you who made it.”

  Carrie remembered that Alex Mason drove a black BMW.

  “Why do you think this is connected to Tonya’s mu
rder?” Bergland asked.

  “I didn’t say it was. But I got a customer soon after Tonya left in the car, and when I got back to my spot, she wasn’t there, and she never came back. Then I come down with something and I was in bed for a day. When I went back to work, I heard Miles swearing about Tonya, telling Jackson he was furious with her ’cause she hadn’t brought him no money for two days and he thought she run off. I didn’t see her no more after that, and then I heard she got killed.”

  “Could she have finished up with the customer in the fancy car, returned while you were gone, and been picked up by someone else?” Carrie asked.

  “Yeah, there was enough time. And also, I didn’t think that customer done anything to Tonya, because I seen her for a second when she drove by me.”

  “‘She’?” Carrie said.

  “Yeah, that’s the other reason I didn’t think I knew nothing about Tonya’s killer. A woman was driving that car.”

  * * *

  Mordessa was relieved when the cop and the DA left. She didn’t trust cops and she was worried about having to testify against Prater. When she heard the knock on her door ten minutes later, she figured Bergland and Anders had returned to ask her something else.

  She opened the door. A man was standing in the doorway. Mordessa opened her mouth to scream and Arnold Prater hit her in the stomach. Mordessa doubled over. Prater shut the door with one hand and used the other hand to deliver a blow to Mordessa’s chest that knocked her down. Her head bounced off the floor, dazing her. Prater dropped onto her chest and slapped a strip of duct tape over her mouth. Mordessa was already having trouble breathing and her eyes grew wide with panic.

  “Breathe through your nose, bitch,” Prater said as he gripped her chin with gloved hands. “I want you sharp so you can hear every word I say.”

  Mordessa sucked in air through her nostrils. Prater waited until she was still, her terrified eyes focused on him. He gave her cheeks light slaps.

  “You okay?” he asked. Mordessa didn’t move.

  “Nod if you understand the question, or I’ll hurt you.”

  Mordessa snapped her head up and down.

  “Good girl. So, I saw Anders and Bergland leaving. You buddy-buddy with the authorities all of a sudden? You going to help your local police by testifying?”