When the Tiger Kills

by Vanessa Prelatte

  *****

  When Monieque Torrense opened the door to her house in answer to their knock, Dawn let Rafe do all the talking. Rafe informed Monieque almost apologetically that they were holding Jago Bolt for her son's murder, and mentioned that J.B. was making what Rafe considered to be some wild and frankly unbelievable claims. Would Monieque mind coming down to the station for questioning, just to clear up some things for them?

  When Jago Bolt's name was first mentioned, Dawn caught just a flicker of alarm cross the other woman's face, but she'd covered it up quickly. She had expressed surprise that J.B. was being held for the murder; after all, he was her son's friend. But she made no objection to coming down to headquarters with them. If they would just give her a few minutes to get ready, she'd follow them down in her own car.

  At headquarters, Rafe steered her into the interview room, where Monieque eased herself into a seat. She was a rather plump woman of about average height, but she had managed to minimize the extra pounds she carried on her frame by choosing expensive and stylish clothes that flattered her curvy figure and drew the eye up to her main assets, which included wide, china-blue eyes set in a smooth baby face, a flawless complexion, a straight little nose, and a lush, full mouth. Her blonde hair, which Dawn suspected came straight from a bottle rather than from Mother Nature, was perfectly coiffed in an attractive bob and swept back from her carefully made-up face.

  Once Monieque had settled herself into her chair, Rafe said, “Mrs. Torrense, protocol requires me to give the Miranda warning to anyone we bring in for questioning. Would that be okay with you? Just to take care of the formalities, you know?”

  “Oh! It never occurred to me that you would have to read me my rights. But I suppose if you have to...”

  “Yes, ma'am, we do. I'll just do it right now, get it over with, okay?”

  “Well, I guess if you have to do it, it's not a problem for me. Go ahead.”

  “Okay. I'm going to go on the record now, just to make sure we do everything according to the proper procedure.” After he'd started the record and read the Miranda warning, Rafe said, “Now, do you understand your rights, Mrs. Torrense?”

  “Yes.” Fluttering her eyelids, she added, “and please call me Monieque.”

  “All right, Monieque. Now, you're aware that we've arrested a young man named Jago Bolt on suspicion of the murder of your son, Cullen Torrense, aren't you?”

  “Yes, you told me that when you came to my house. I'm totally shocked to hear that he had anything to do with Cullen's death. They were friends, you see. I just can't believe that he would ever do anything to hurt my son.”

  “So you are acquainted with Jago Bolt, Monieque?”

  “Oh, yes – but we've always called him J.B., not Jago. He's been in and out of the house ever since Cullen started high school. That's when they met. They didn't know each other before, because they attended different grade schools.”

  “Can you tell me the last time you saw Jago Bolt?”

  “Oh, dear me – not for ages now. There was no reason for him to come over once Cullen had moved out of the house.”

  “And that would be how long ago?”

  “Well, let's see – a few months, at least.”

  “Now, I know that this is going to come as a shock to you, Monieque, but when he was questioned about the murder, Mr. Bolt made a rather startling claim. To be blunt, he implicated you in your son's death. In fact, he claimed that you paid him to kill Cullen.”

  “What? Are you serious?”

  “I'm afraid so, Monieque. I know that it sounds fantastic, but that's what he said.”

  “That's crazy! Cullen was my only son. He was more precious to me than anything else in the world. Surely you didn't believe J.B., did you?”

  “Well, Monieque, when someone makes a claim like that, we have to follow up on it, no matter what our personal beliefs might be.”

  Dabbing her eyes, she responded brokenly, “It's wicked! It's just plain evil of him to say such a thing. Why would he make such a horrible accusation?”

  Dawn got into the conversation then, saying in a hard tone of voice, “Oh, please. You can cut the act. And it hasn't been months since you last saw J.B. We have witnesses that saw the two of you together last week.”

  “How dare you speak to me like that? Have you no feeling, no compassion for a grieving mother?”

  “Hold on now,” Rafe said. “Let's all calm down. Detective Cimarron, I'm feeling the need for some refreshment. Why don't you get us some coffee?” Turning to Monieque, he said, “What about you, Monieque? Coffee okay with you?”

  Glaring at Dawn, she said, “If you have something cold, that would be better. Maybe some iced tea?”

  “I think we can handle that, don't you, Detective Cimarron?”

  Dawn just shrugged her shoulders and left the room.

  “Sorry about that, Monieque. She hasn't been a detective for very long. I'm still sort of teaching her the ropes. I'm afraid she hasn't had much experience in interviewing people.”

  “Well, I hope that she catches on quickly, or she isn't going to have much success. Her attitude leaves a lot to be desired.”

  “Well, she did have a point, though. I mean, some of your neighbors did see you and J.B. together fairly recently. Perhaps you'd forgotten?”

  “Wait a minute, let me think. Oh! – you're right. J.B. did come over a couple of times during the last few weeks. I'd forgotten about it. The first time he came over to ask for Cullen's new address, and the second time to pick up a jacket he'd forgotten to take with him the week before. It was so insignificant, it just slipped my mind.”

  Dawn reentered the room just then, a cup of coffee in one hand and a glass of iced tea in the other. She made no comment as she placed them on the table and resumed her seat. Rafe politely handed the glass of tea to Monieque before picking up his coffee and taking a sip. Now comes the tricky part, he thought.

  Right on cue, Dawn snapped, “Did you ask her about the money yet?”

  Monieque nearly choked on her tea. “Money? What money?”

  Dawn replied, “J.B. had almost twenty thousand dollars stashed away in a safety deposit box, Monieque. And guess what? You withdrew that exact amount from your bank account just a few days before the murder. And your fingerprints were found on some of the bills.”

  Rafe looked at her reproachfully. “Now, Cimarron, I'm sure that there's some reasonable explanation for that. Isn't there, Monieque?”

  She burst into tears, then. Sobbing, she blurted out, “He was blackmailing me!”

  “Wait a minute – Bolt is a blackmailer? That's why you gave him the money?”

  Rafe's soothing tone of voice had the desired effect. Monieque stopped sobbing and said, “Yes! That's why I said I hadn't seen him recently! I didn't want anyone to know!”

  “Okay, Monieque – calm down. What was J.B. blackmailing you about?”

  “I can't tell you!”

  “Well, I'm afraid that if you don't, some people may be inclined to believe his story. Don't you think you'd better come clean, tell us what really happened? You don't want anyone to think that you actually paid him that money to kill Cullen, do you?”

  “No, no!”

  “Then you'd be better off if you tell us the whole story, Monieque.”

  “Do you promise you won't tell anybody?”

  “I can't promise that. But I'm sure that whatever it is can't really be that bad.”

  He waited for a moment, saying nothing else. Finally, she took a deep breath and said, “Okay, I'll tell you. He - J.B. - had evidence that I was having an affair.”

  Rafe said in a puzzled tone of voice, “He was blackmailing you about that? I don't understand. Why would you pay him not to tell anyone, if that's all there was to it?”

  “The man I'm having an affair with – he's married!”

  “Fooling around with a married man, huh? Shame, shame, Monieque,” Dawn said mockingly.

  “Shut up! And it's Mrs. Torrens
e to you!” Turning her shoulder to Dawn, Monieque looked into Rafe's eyes and said soulfully, “I know it's wrong, but we couldn't help it. We love each other!”

  “But I'm still not clear why having an affair made you the target of a blackmailer. I mean, you're a widow, right? You have no spouse who'd get upset about it. Why didn't he go after the man you're involved with? Seems to me he'd be the more logical choice.”

  “Oh, he's not very well-to-do. That's why J.B. came after me instead.”

  “I see. Can you tell me his name? The man you're seeing, that is.”

  “Uh... His first name is Joe. And frankly, I don't think it's any of your business what his last name is, so I'm not going to tell you. I don't want to make any trouble for him. His wife might find out.”

  “No problem. We don't need his last name at the present time. Now, where did you and Joe meet?”

  “In the park. The one near my house. I met him when I was walking there one day.”

  “You go walking in the park on a regular basis?”

  “Oh, yes. I like to keep in shape.”

  “And on one of these walks you met Joe. When was that, precisely?”

  “Back in August, I think.”

  “Did you start seeing him right away?”

  “Not right away, no. I mean, it made me uncomfortable at first, the fact that he was a married man. We just sort of started talking to each other, and then one day he asked me to go for coffee with him. It wasn't long after that we realized we were in love. And then, we kind of got carried away. We've been seeing each other ever since.”

  “Okay. Now, when did J.B. first approach you with his blackmail scheme?”

  “About a week ago. I was flabbergasted. At first, I told him that I wasn't paying a cent, but later I realized that I just couldn't bear for everything to come out, so I agreed.”

  “In that case, here's something that's puzzling me. Why didn't you just deny it – the fact that you and Joe were having an affair? Did J.B. have some sort of proof?”

  “Yes, yes! He'd taken pictures of the two of us together.”

  Rafe frowned. “It still seems to me that you could have come up with an innocent explanation for why the two of you were together, explained the whole thing away.”

  “No, we couldn't. You see, the pictures were...of an intimate nature.”

  Rafe raised his eyebrows. “Now, that's a different story. Where did J.B. take these pictures? At your house?”

  “No – Joe and I were at a hotel.”

  “At a hotel? How did J.B. pull that off?”

  “I don't know! He wouldn't tell me. I about died when he showed me those pictures!”

  “How did he take them? On his cell phone?”

  “Yes. He showed them to me that first night he came by.”

  “Did he hold the cell phone while he showed them to you, or did he give it to you to hold?”

  “Wait a minute – I think that he gave the cell phone to me, but I'm not positive.”

  Rafe turned to Dawn and said, “See? I told you there was a reasonable explanation for why her fingerprints were found on the cell phone.”

  There was a knock on the door just then. Rafe went over to see who it was. After a brief conversation with the person at the door, who stayed just out of sight, Rafe turned back and said, “Excuse me for a few minutes. There's something I have to attend to.”

  After Rafe left, Monieque studiously ignored Dawn, until the latter said, “You want to know what I don't understand, Monieque? We've already checked J.B.'s cell phone, and we didn't find any scandalous pictures of you and your lover on it. Care to explain that?”

  “I'm afraid that should be obvious, even to you. J.B. must have deleted them.”

  “Uh-uh. No good. Even if pictures are deleted, they're still in the phone's memory, and our techs can retrieve them.”

  “Then J.B. must have used another phone that day. Maybe one of those throwaway ones. I don't know! And I don't want to talk to you anymore!”

  “Suit yourself,” Dawn said comfortably. Then she added, “Here's a thought: If J.B. used a different phone, then how come your prints are on the one in the lab downstairs?”

  “You're obviously too stupid to understand. I refuse to listen to your nonsense any longer.” She looked up with relief when Rafe came back into the room.

  “Sergeant Melbourne, I'm tired. I don't want to answer any more questions. I want to go home.”

  “Sure, Monieque. We'll only be another minute or two. Just a couple more things. There's something I don't get. According to your neighbor, Mrs. Lillipinner, the man you've been seeing over the past few months is named Martin, not Joe. And he's not married; he's a widower with a young son.” Shaking his head sadly, Rafe went on, “I'm afraid that it just doesn't fit with your story.”

  Before she'd had time to assimilate Rafe's comments, Dawn asked, “And Monieque? If you're such a devoted mother, why haven't you done anything about making funeral arrangements for your son? According to our information, the only person who's made inquiries regarding the final disposition of Cullen's body is his aunt, a woman named Ellanor Torrense – not you.”

  Whirling on Dawn, Monieque cried, “I couldn't deal with it! I've been almost paralyzed with grief! I loved my son, and I'm too broken to handle things like that right now! My son meant the world to me. Don't you get that?”

  “No, and Cullen didn't either – at least not according to his stepsister.”

  “Gwen Mallinder? That little bitch hates me! She'd do anything to hurt me. You can't believe a word she says!”

  “But we don't have to take her word for it. You see, Cullen wrote everything down. He put it all in a letter and mailed it to Gwen just before he went off to meet J.B. in the park. Want to hear what he says?” Taking the letter out of a folder that lay on the table, she read what Cullen had had to say about his suspicions concerning his mother.

  “It's all lies! That letter must be a forgery! I loved my son! Ask anyone who ever saw us together! No one will believe that I had anything to do with his death!”

  “Oh, I think they will, Monieque. Especially after they learn that within days after being notified about her son's death, his mother, who claims to be so grief stricken that she can't even handle making funeral arrangements for him, began initiating legal proceedings that will enable her to claim a large sum of money that Cullen's father left to him in a trust fund.”

  Monieque jumped up out of her chair. “I'm not staying here one more minute. I'm getting a lawyer, and I'm going to sue you for defamation of character!”

  “Sit down, Monieque. You're not going anywhere.”

  “You can't keep me here!”

  “Oh, but I'm afraid we can. We can hold you for twenty-four hours just on suspicion.” As Monieque lifted a hand threateningly, Dawn added, “Hitting me won't help you, Monieque. All it will do is get you charged with assaulting a police officer. You really want to go there?”

  Turning to Rafe, Monieque appealed, “Sergeant Melbourne, if I have to stay here, I want a lawyer. And I don't want that person,” she said, pointing at Dawn, “present during any questioning. I refuse to answer any more questions as long as that individual is in this room.”

  “Let the record show that Mrs. Torrense has invoked her right to be represented by an attorney. End interview for the present time,” said Rafe. Making a note of the time, he rose from his chair and said, “We'll have to leave you alone for a little bit, Monieque. We need to make arrangements for you to contact a lawyer.”

  “Fine. I've had about enough of you – both of you!”

  When they joined him in Observation, the huge grin on ADA Toravo's face revealed teeth so perfectly white that it was a wonder it didn’t blind them.

  “Man, it was a treat watching the two of you work her. You had her eating out of your hand, Rafe!” Pointing his index finger at Dawn, he added, “and that's the first chance I've had to watch you be the bad cop. You were downright nasty to her, D.C. Didn't kno
w you had it in you. Usually you two play it the other way around.”

  “We decided before going in that I'd be the good cop this time,” Rafe said. “From what we've learned about her, we guessed that she's more comfortable with men, more hostile toward women. We figured that if she thought I sympathized with her, she'd be more likely to open up to me. She has a lot of confidence in herself when it comes to manipulating men.”

  “Yeah. She thought you believed every word of her bullshit story, right up to the end. And D.C.? She really, really wanted to hurt you. In fact, if looks could kill, you'd be lying dead on the floor right now.”

  “I know. I'm all broken up about it, too.”

  “Well, now that the two of you have gotten the ball rolling, it's time for me to run with it. I'll take it from here, see that she gets her attorney. And whoever she gets to represent her is not going to be happy. You shot her credibility to pieces by catching her in so many lies. Hell, even a low-life like J.B. is going to look good by comparison. And that's good news for our side. We'll let her talk things over with her lawyer. In the meantime, we'll get a warrant for her arrest. We'll have her arrested, charged, and booked in no time at all.”

  “You going for Murder One?” Rafe inquired.

  “A mother who cold-bloodedly hired a hit man to knock off her only son so that she could get her hands on his trust fund? You bet we're going for Murder One. It will be a pleasure to toss Monieque Torrense into prison for the rest of her miserable life, or better yet, put her narcissistic ass on Death Row.”

  “Can't argue with that. We'll see you later, Bob. We've got another hot case that we need to move up to the front burner.”

  “The Zarafin case? I heard about that one. Any news?”

  Rafe shook his head. “No. We've got some leads we need to follow up on, though. In fact, in about an hour, we have a Skype interview set up with the parents of another possible victim, this one up in Michigan. Maybe they can give us something we can follow up on, help us to find the girl. For her sake, I just hope it's not too late.”