by Judith Lucci
Nadine hesitated for a moment, looking at the Commander.
Françoise spoke up, "Alex, this meeting needs to be off the record. All we have is preliminary information. The guys downtown would freak if they knew we were talking to the hospital lawyer."
"Wow, Commander, I thought you were the guy downtown," Alex said laughing. “Of course, it will be off the record. I'm here as Angie’s friend. Not to worry. This is completely between us. Let's sit at the conference table."
Nadine looked relieved. "Sorry, Alex. We just had to ask. Protocol and all."
"I know, Nadine. No worries. Please share."
"Well, this case is more complex than some. It presents a little differently. We usually classify rapists into three categories. The first category is the anger rapist who uses physical brutality to express rage, contempt, and hatred for his victim. The attack is usually unplanned and the rapist is seldom sexually aroused when he initiates the attack. Anger rape is usually quick, this wasn't. The medical information suggests that Angie was raped more than once. Usually with an anger rapist, the assault is one of physical violence to the whole body."
Alex was listening attentively and making notes on her legal pad. "Yeah. What about the other categories? Do they better fit with what's happened to Angie?"
Nadine continued, "Well, a power rapist initiates the attack to overcome feelings of inadequacy and insecurity. For them, to accomplish sexual intercourse is evidence of personal conquest. These attacks are planned and premeditated. There is usually no injury beyond the attack itself, although it may occur over an extended duration of time. Power rapists outnumber anger rapists two to one. Victims of power rapists have relatively minor injuries." Nadine stopped for a moment as Alex held up her hand.
"This doesn't work. Angie has extensive injuries. It seems like her attacker has attributes in both categories." Alex put her hands to her face. "You know, this stuff is sickening."
Nadine Wells nodded in agreement.
Jack Françoise suggested that Nadine describe the third category of rapists.
Nadine sighed deeply as she continued. "In contrast to anger and power rapists, the third category is the sadistic rapist. These rapists eroticize physical force. The rape may be long and involve torture, mutilation, or murder. Often times, this is the only way the rapist can achieve sexual satisfaction. Fortunately, this is the most uncommon type of rapist."
"Not for Angie Richlieu! Would you categorize her rape as one of a sadistic rapist?" Alex's blue eyes, crackling with intensity, penetrated Nadine's soft brown ones.
Nadine shook her head. "No, probably not. At least, he is not a pure sadistic rapist. Angie's rapist, at this point at least, seems to embody some of the characteristics of both the anger and the sadistic rapist. Certainly the perp is sadistic. He bit her, beat her, crushed her skull, and sliced up her face. But, he was angry. I think our rapist is a cross between an anger rapist and a sadistic rapist."
Alex's heart was pounding in her chest. "Jack, what do you think? Do you agree with Nadine?"
"Nadine is the expert. I do agree with her. I think the son of a bitch is angry. I think he was enraged, crazy, psychotic even."
Alex nodded, "Yeah, for sure. Nadine do you think he meant to murder her?"
"No. At least, I don't think so. If he had planned to murder her, he would have. He had the opportunity. He simply wasn't motivated to kill her. He wanted to disfigure her, to scare her beyond belief!"
Jack grunted. "That doesn't mean he won't come back and try to murder her, especially if it is someone she could identify or recognize. Bastard!"
Alex was anxious, "Oh my goodness, Jack, you don't think he will try to hurt her while she is in CCMC recovering, do you?"
Jack shrugged his shoulders. "Don't know for sure. Possibly. Nadine, do you have an opinion?"
Nadine's voice was uncertain. "I don't know, I just don't know. This case is a bit different. He could. Perhaps he thought she was dead or, at least, would be by the time she was found. It's hard to say. There are so many unknowns in Angie's case. We need to be prepared in case he does, Commander."
Jack nodded, "I'll take care of it."
"My Lord, what kind of profile do these rapists have? Is there a profile for this type of crime?" Alex's face paled as she considered the perp coming back and attacking Angie while she was at CCMC.
Nadine and Jack looked at each other sadly. Jack nodded while Nadine answered Alex's questions.
"Yes, these profiles usually reveal that the rapist is mentally ill. Violently, mentally ill. They are often psychotic."
"Great Day! It’s looking more and more like it could be a patient from the Pavilion. Do we have any inpatients that have such a profile?" Alex's headache was getting worse.
"Don't know yet. There are several patients in the Pavilion now that are violent and have diagnoses that could suggest such a profile. However, rape is not noted in their medical histories. Dr. Desmonde and the psych team are analyzing the records that we pulled. We should know something by this afternoon. I'm sure she will talk to us then," Nadine assured them.
The conversation was interrupted by a dietary aide delivering the lunch trays. Alex, Nadine, and Jack stared at the food as the aide departed. The food looked good, but no one was particularly hungry.
Finally, Jack spoke. "Alex, there's one more thing. You ain't going to like it. Do you want to hear it?"
"Yes, of course, Commander." Alex's formal tone was indicative of her distress.
"This kind of rapist likes to revisit his victim. He likes to come back to terrorize them over and over. It could be here at CCMC or after she has recuperated and gone home. It could be in five years, who the hell knows. But, they do often return and stalk their victims."
"Oh, no. We can't let this happen! No! What do we do?" Alex's voice was approaching a hysterical level and her head was beating outside of her skull.
"When he comes back, he'll try to kill Angie. I am sure of it." Jack was feeling again for his gun. "Don't worry, Alex. In the meantime, we’ll place police protection outside her room. When he comes back, we'll get him. Count on it. It's a given." Jack's face was red with anger.
Alex stared at her plate of uneaten food. She felt nauseated and was startled when Jack's cell phone rang.
He looked at the number. "I've got to go." He turned to Nadine and said, "We caught the double homicide this morning in the Quarter. The young couple. I got to get down to the Coroner's office."
"Commander, you're handling that? I hear that's a bad case." Nadine's face was grim.
"Yeah, Nadine, it is. It's looking real bad. But then, this case is bad as well. Today has been nothing but bad." He looked at the lunch he had been so eagerly anticipating and said, "Sorry, ladies. I just lost my appetite."
After Jack left, Alex and Nadine talked quietly and picked at their food.
Nadine told Alex that she would be sure police protection for Angie had been arranged, "just in case". She also reminded Alex that she and Jack were operating only on a theory and that they had no hard evidence. Nadine promised to keep in touch and the two women parted, leaving Alex tearfully depressed in her office.
Shortly after she left, Alex remembered that she had forgotten to ask Nadine about the puncture wounds on Angela's neck. She'd call and ask her later. But, right now, Alex needed a little time alone.
Chapter 10
Jack's brain was bursting as he started his drive back down to Rampart to see Maddy Jeanfreau. He was doubly concerned about Angie's safety and felt there was a risk the perp would try to finish her off, if she made it through surgery. Why did bad things happen to his friends? He'd made a ton of friends over at CCMC in the spring and the group had gotten together several times over the previous months to keep their connection alive. Several of the CCMC folks had been piqued that he hadn't invited them to his Commander celebration. As it was, Jack had barely tolerated the evening. He'd only invited the few folks necessary to be politically correct. Alex, Robert, and Mo
nique Desmond had all attended, the latter two having been his friends since childhood. He figured that if he had to suffer, his closest friends should suffer with him.
As Jack slowed his Caddy to stop for a red light, he allowed himself to think of what reason Dr. Jeanfreau could have to call him downtown for the second time in one day. He prayed it wasn't about what he feared it was. He had been ignoring the possibility since he had left earlier this morning, but the phone call from Maddy had almost confirmed his fears. If what he thought was true was correct, he wanted to bleep himself into oblivion for a few months or at least visit an obscure planet he had never heard of.
As he wheeled his Caddy into a legal parking space, his spirits lifted. Two legal spots in one day. That must be a record for him. Things couldn't be too bad, right, he convinced himself. After all, I am parking legally for the first time in months. That has to be a good omen. But there again, it was probably his old Catholic upbringing coming back to trick him.
Chapter 11
Maddy was washing up in the autopsy room. She looked like she had aged 5 years since this morning. It must be a very bad day in the morgue. She saw him, brightened a bit, smiled, and pointed with a soapy hand back towards her office.
"I'll be back there in a few minutes. Got to finish getting cleaned up. Enjoy the Hershey Kisses in my candy bowl ... as if you needed an invitation," she admonished.
Jack gave her a half smile and said, “I might just do that," remembering that he had turned down lunch and a second jelly donut. Besides, he deserved it. It was a shitty day.
He made himself at home and sat at the little round table in Maddy's office near the candy bowl. He looked around. Maddy had pictures of her husband, who was a noted urologist in town, and her twin daughters, who looked just like 10-year-old Maddy miniatures. He picked up a picture of them taken at their weekend home in Pass Christian over on the Gulf Coast of Mississippi. The four looked just great, tanned, fishing poles sticking out of the grounds, sitting under an umbrella on the beach with the Mississippi Sound in the background. Maddy looked fantastic and carefree. Something she certainly didn’t look like today. Jack was reading her numerous diplomas, degrees, and commendations when the petite M.E. joined him in her office. She saw Jack holding her family picture.
She shook her head. "I'd love to be over in the Pass now. Anywhere but here in this depressing morgue cutting open dead people all day."
Jack nodded, "Yeah, I bet. Me, too. I still want to take you up on that fishing trip offer when it cools off."
"You bet. Right after the lunch you offered this morning." Maddy grinned at him and asked, "What's up at CCME?"
Jack shook his head. "Not good. An attack on one of the nurses who worked in the Pavilion last night. She was raped and beaten up pretty bad. Laid in the bushes for hours until someone noticed her early this morning."
Maddy shook her head. "Oh my, I'm not surprised. The Pavilion is a festering, snake-pit, time-bomb. I've autopsied two patients who have gotten killed over there in the last couple of years. We're lucky it hasn't been worse. Monique Desmonde deserves multiple gold medals for staying in that hell hole."
"Oh, do you know Monique? I didn't know that. "
"Of course, I know Monique. I love her. We female docs have to stick together, particularly in this God-forsaken, old boy network town. I don't see her as much as I'd like, but we do get together fairly often."
"Good to know. I'm afraid the perp could be one of her patients."
"Boy, Commander, I feel real sorry for you. Monique will protect her patients like they are her children. She is a marvelous physician and psychiatrist. If you ever need an advocate, she is there for you."
Jack shrugged his shoulders and rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I know. There could be a struggle. I've already figured that out. Now, why did you call me down here again on this hot as hell day when I could be eating chocolates in my air conditioned office?" Jack smiled, but his dark eyes were serious.
The two locked eyes for several moments and then Jack knew without Maddy telling him. He shook his head and said, "Oh no!"
Maddy just stared at him and said simply, "He's back. St. Germaine is back."
Jack looked miserable. "Yeah, I thought so. I was afraid of that. What the hell, here we go again.” He could feel his gut tighten up and cramp. He was instantly depressed and despondent.
Maddy nodded and said, "Yeah, you're right. Here we go again. And we got zip from the bodies. We still need to identify them."
"So, I guess you are telling me that their throats were torn out just like the lady in 2009?"
"Yeah, and their wrists were slit, as well. We could get no finger prints off the bodies so, hopefully, your team got some. You were right. The bodies had some pretty scary tattoos on them. They were definitely into the occult. They had less than 200 mls of blood that we could drain out."
Jack looked glum. "This sounds identical to 2009 and 1933, as least as far as we can tell from the police report from 1933. And God knows how many more that we never found. Anything else?”
Maddy gestured negatively and said, "Oh, there may be one thing. I don't think they were killed in the Quarter. There were scrapes to both victims’ legs that were post mortem. It looks like they had been dragged. There were grass and pebbles embedded in their clothes that I am sure didn't come from the Quarter. The female's shoulder was broken, possibly from being shoved into a small space or, perhaps, she was dropped from a balcony. I can't be sure."
"I'll have the guys check around. Can you maybe pin-point the grass or rocks?”
Maddy nodded, "Will do my best. We're running them through the database. We're also data-mining everything we know. Jack, have there been any sightings of St. Germaine lately that you've heard about?"
Jack shook his head. "Only the ones from tourists who have been on cemetery tours or have over-indulged. We are always getting St. G. sighting from drunks, at least a couple a week. We investigate, but there is nothing. We've found nothing substantive since just before the 2009 murder," Jack reported and sighed with fatigue. “Damn, I feel about 200 years old now. We don't need this Maddy. Keep it to yourself. We don't need any media hype of this stuff. You know the mayor will have a fit and we'll get the BS about hurting tourism."
"Got'cha. O.K. I'll ask the tech to keep quiet, but you know I cannot promise anything. Word, no matter what you do, travels in cases like this. Just be prepared for a media onslaught.”
Jack nodded, "Just do your best and keep in touch."
"You, too." Maddy hugged Jack for the second time that day. "We've got to stop meeting like this," she quipped.
"Yeah, for sure. Thanks, Maddy, " Jack said as he left her office.
Chapter 12
Jack couldn't wait to get into the solitude of his luxury automobile, cut on the air, and be alone for the second time that day. He unlocked his car, laid his head back on the Cadillac's thick cushions, and closed his eyes, grateful for the darkly tinted windows. After a few moments, Jack once again forced himself to review the legend of St. Germaine. He really didn't want to, but he really knew he had to. His thoughts drifted as he reviewed St. Germaine.
If there was one thing Jack knew a lot about, it was New Orleans' dark and murky underworld. Witches and black magic, voodoo and the occult, they were all part of New Orleans' dark, sensual, shadowy underbelly that Jack had learned to navigate as a rookie cop. While most cases were readily solved, it was true that the St. Germaine cases remained an enigma to even the most senior members of the NOPD, including Commander Jack Françoise and his dad, retired NOPD.
St. Germaine sightings were either reported by sober, imaginative, and/or terrified locals or by drunken tourists walking the dark streets of the Quarter at night. Legend had it that Comte St. Germaine, a Frenchman of royal lineage, had lived in Europe for many years before emigrating to New Orleans shortly after the city was settled. St. Germaine was known to be an extraordinarily wealthy man with amazing abilities, who had left France shortly before th
e French Revolution, fearing for his life. It was rumored that St. Germaine was a musician and could play any instrument, but favored the piano and the violin. The Comte was also well-versed in linguistics and was fluent in many languages. In addition, he was charming, eloquent, and excellent conversationalist. St. Germaine had a reputation for liking the ladies, although he never married. It was also said that he liked men as well.
As Jack continued to review his knowledge of the Comte, he remembered his grandfather talking about St. Germaine when he was in his eighties, expressing how unfair it was that his good friend never showed his age. In fact, no one ever knew St. Germaine's age because he never seemed to change physically. He was and always purported to be about 40 years old, although he remained that age for at least a half of a century according to octogenarians who had known St. Germaine in their youth. Many of New Orleans' finest citizens had partied with St. Germaine in their youth and swore his face never aged.
In addition to being ageless and rich, St. Germaine was known to have wonderful dinner parties where his friends would dine for hours on the very best cuisine that New Orleans had to offer. Germaine was never seen to take a bite. He never ate. He only sipped red wine, pleading a sour stomach and a taste for only "white" food. The Comte loved the ladies, but never had a steady girlfriend or mistress. Many New Orleanians reported he visited the brothels almost every night. In fact, Germaine was on the A list for years, much loved and revered in his adopted city. A dinner invitation from The Comte was to die for, until one night when things seemed to go amiss.