Mallory handed a cup of tea to the judge’s wife. The woman smiled her gratitude and accepted the tea with a nervous clattering of the china. She seemed even more fragile than the delicate Old Willow teacup.
Mallory leaned down until her eyes were level with the woman, who had ceased her crying and now looked up at Mallory with absolute trust.
‘Mrs Heart, were you at home the night the judge beat the crap out of your mother-in-law?’
The woman’s eyes were startled wide, and it seemed that her thin shoulders were being pressed to the back of her chair. Then her head dropped to her chest, and her entire body wilted. Now Pansy had been assaulted for the second time in one night.
Mallory eased back, lifted a cup from the near table and began to stir her own tea.
‘Did that old woman scream as loud as you did?’
The sobbing began again, racking the smaller woman’s leaf-light body.
Betty Hyde rolled her eyes. She rose from the footstool and led Mallory back to the kitchen.
‘That was brutal, Mallory. One day we must have a long talk about your style – I think I could learn from you. Are you just fishing, dear, or do you have something more on the bastard?’
‘I’ve got copies of the hospital records during the years Judge Heart’s mother lived with them. There’s another file with his wife’s hospital records. He probably didn’t kill the old lady with a beating, but if you want to get to the judge, I would suggest applying a little pressure on his mother’s doctor – you might want the old woman’s body exhumed. The DA is a good political animal. You might approach him with the word coverup and then explain that a high-profile case might be good for his career. And leave my name out of it.’
‘Understood. And what can I do for you, Mallory?’
‘Milk Pansy for everything you can get. At the tenants’ meeting, she said her dog was gone. Is it dead?’
Betty turned to the woman in the other room. Pansy had ceased her crying now and sat quietly staring into her teacup. Hyde raised her voice to ask, ‘Pansy, you still have a dog, don’t you, dear? Rosie, isn’t it?’
Pansy Heart turned to face Betty with a look of mild surprise. ‘Yes, Rosie is at the animal hospital. I don’t know when she’ll be coming home. She’s very sick.’
Mallory found something familiar about the tone of voice. It was the practiced way the woman said the words. She was lying.
Well, everybody lied.
Mallory strode back into the front room and leaned down with both hands on the arms of the rocking chair. Pansy looked up, and her hand started to rise to ward off a blow. It was an instinctive reflex.
‘Your dog is dead, isn’t it?’
The woman was flying apart from the center. One hand flashed out and sent the teacup and saucer crashing to the floor. Her eyes were slipping into shock.
‘When did the dog die?’
And now the words came out in a gush of hysteria. ‘I don’t know! I haven’t seen Rosie for days. My husband took her out for a walk, and she never came back again. He said she was at the vet’s.’
‘But you called the vet and the dog wasn’t there, right?’
Pansy was nodding. Quiet now. Shock was doing its calming work.
Mallory turned away and left Hyde to clean up the damage, this puddle of a woman in the middle of her floor.
Edward Slope took his seat at the table. ‘Stop apologizing, Charles.’
‘But I only meant to leave a message on your office machine. I would never have dragged you away from your family on Christmas night.’
‘But I wasn’t with my family, Charles. I was catching up on a backlog of autopsies. Christmas is my busy season. So why the secrecy? Has the little brat asked you to break the law?’
Charles had never been able to win at poker. He didn’t have the face to run a bluff, or so Edward Slope had reminded him once a week. So how to begin this foray into lying, which was Mallory country and an uncharted place he had never been to?
‘I had a few words with Riker last night,’ said Charles. ‘I know Kathy witnessed a murder when she was a child.’ And that was true, wasn’t it? Riker’s reaction had confirmed it, certainly. And his reaction to discussing the matter with Edward Slope had suggested that Edward could tell him what Riker would not.
The doctor sat back in his chair and went through the stalling mechanics of removing his glasses and cleaning them. ‘So Riker told you about that?’
Charles nodded, and in that nod he told his first lie of the evening. He was practicing at Mallory’s religion of Everyone Lies.
Forgive me, Edward my friend, for my trespasses against thee.
Slope restored his glasses to the bridge of his nose. ‘When I asked Riker, point blank, if he had ever seen any of the films, he denied it. You haven’t mentioned this to anyone else, have you?’
‘No,’ said Charles, with the sudden realization that somehow he had just betrayed Riker. Forgive me, Riker, for I’m about to trespass some more. Charles settled the napkin on his lap, not wanting to meet the eyes of the man he could not beat at poker. ‘Riker wouldn’t go into any detail about the film.’ And that was true. No, it was not. It was deception. ‘I’m sure he wouldn’t. He’s not supposed to know the film existed. But apparently Riker did know about it. There’s no other way he could have known about the murder. I gather this is important, or he wouldn’t have hung himself out to dry that way.’
‘It’s very important.’ If he was right about the connection between Mallory and Justin, a child was at stake.
‘Markowitz swore to me that Riker had never seen the film. And we destroyed it that night. It wouldn’t make sense for him to tell Riker after the fact, not if you knew Markowitz’s style. Do you understand that, technically, this knowledge could make you an accessory?’
Charles nodded. Another lie. No, I don’t understand. And only a second has gone by and now I’ve somehow betrayed Markowitz too.
‘Markowitz would never have shown it to anyone else. This was Kathy’s history, and he protected it. He wouldn’t have risked the feds seeing Kathy on tape, interrogating her. He only showed it to me because he wanted to close out the case. He needed a positive identification based on a scar. The original wound was on the film. Did Riker give you any background on the case?’
‘Not much.’
‘The FBI came into Special Crimes Section when a body turned up in Manhattan. The remains had the trademark wounds of a pair of serial killers operating up and down the Eastern Seaboard. Markowitz turned up a lead on one of the killers, and the feds botched the arrest. They sent five men to arrest the suspect, and the man was killed in a shoot-out.’
‘Markowitz must have been furious.’
‘He was. He flushed the feds out of Special Crimes as though they were so much vermin. He took over the site of the shoot-out and recovered a cache of film. It took him a long time to go through all the reels. He did it himself. It was so brutal, he said he didn’t want to burn out his detectives. But really, he was a bit like Kathy, always keeping something back. All he shared with the others was a splice that showed the face of the second killer.
‘I know you’ve heard the story of how Markowitz took Kathy in. Well, he did arrest Kathy for breaking into a car. And Helen was adamant about keeping the child – that was all true. But the real reason he wouldn’t turn Kathy over to Juvenile Hall was because he recognized her. She’d been several years younger when the film was made. But who could forget that face?’
‘So she had seen the murder, and he wanted her as a material witness?’
‘No, they’d already found the location of the film set. Several years had gone by, and the site was cold. It was another four years before Riker made the arrest on the second man and killed him.’
‘But it was in the line of duty, wasn’t it?’
‘That was Riker’s story. One thing that worked in Riker’s favor at the hearing was that the FBI had killed the man’s accomplice during an arrest. Markowitz took th
e position that Riker had done the same thing it took five agents to do – no more, no less. And Markowitz swore under oath that he had been the only one to view the films. So LA couldn’t take it as a case of a cop cracking up and taking vengeance for the victims. And since Riker had killed the suspect with his fists and not his gun, Internal Affairs and the DA came to the conclusion that death was not premeditated, that it occurred while resisting arrest.’
‘That would seem reasonable.’
‘At the time, it did. I backed their conclusion. To my knowledge at the time, Markowitz was the only one who knew the personal connection of the film. So now it seems that Markowitz lied to me. Well that was typical. He wouldn’t have told me the truth if it made me an accessory after the fact. And he was probably feeling part of the blame for what Riker had done. You know, personal detachment is everything in police work.’ And Riker loved Kathy.
‘Kathy doesn’t know about the film. Markowitz wanted it that way. You can never tell her about this evening. That’s understood?’
‘Of course.’
‘Markowitz warned me, said I didn’t have to sit through the entire thing. He told me I’d regret it if I did. But I was so confident in my own professional detachment, I took it for a challenge. I had to view the film because Riker had made such a mess of the man’s face, Markowitz couldn’t identify the victim from the driver’s license photo, and there were no prints on file. He asked me to make the ID based on the scar from a wound the victim received in that film.’
‘Tell me about the film.’
‘After I tell you, you will wish I hadn’t. I guarantee that. Shall I go on?’
This was his last chance to be an honest man, the man Edward Slope thought he was dealing with.
‘Yes, go on.’
‘Do you know what a snuff film is?’
‘No.’
‘It’s a film of the torture and murder of a human being. A little something for the ultimate film buff – the freak. Most of the victims are children. Any child you see on the streets of New York can be turned into some kind of currency.’
Slope waved down a passing waiter to order a double scotch. He turned back to Charles. ‘I can’t do this sober. Are you sure you want to hear all the details?’
‘Quite sure.’
Not at all sure. I have nightmares enough. No. Go on. I deserve this.
‘When the film opened, the children, a boy and a girl, were asleep on the floor of a cage. It wasn’t a fancy production. It was shot in a warehouse with only one set. I believe the children were drugged. The little boy was just coming out of it. Maybe that’s why they took him first. The little girl wasn’t moving at all. It was Kathy, of course. You knew that.’
Charles nodded.
Another lie, and another bad dream due for penance.
‘She could only have been eight years old when the film was made. She’d apparently been on the street for a while by then. She was wearing a grimy T-shirt and jeans that were miles too big for her. I remember her telling me once, that she’d always stolen the jeans closest to the door of the shop, so she didn’t always get a great fit.’
A waiter hovered over the table to deposit a glass which Edward grabbed up at once. He drank quickly.
‘She was only wearing one shoe, and one foot was bare. Well, they took the boy out of the cage and started to work on him. I made Markowitz turn off the volume, but I can still hear the child screaming. You don’t need to know what they did. But he lived quite a while before they were finished with him. And all the while, the cage was in view to one side of the screen. Kathy never moved, never opened her eyes. I watched her the whole time they were torturing the little boy.’
Oh, God. No, wait. I’m a visitor in Mallory’s church tonight, and God is not here.
‘Then it was Kathy’s turn.’
I don’t want to hear any more of this.
‘One of the men opened the door of the cage and lifted her out. She was dead weight in his arms.’ Edward ran one hand through his hair, and then drank from the glass as though with a terrible thirst.
‘You know what I remember most vividly? The one small shoe and the little bare foot. Isn’t that absurd? Kathy slept on as he laid her down on the mattress that was bloodied from the body of the little boy. They had just rolled him off to one side. So much blood.’
Charles watched the rapid movement of Edward’s eyes and realized that the man was watching the film all over again. Edward’s hands covered his face for a moment, and his next words were muffled.
‘Oh, Christ! Isn’t it just a wonderful world for children, Charles?’
Charles began to rise from his chair, leaning toward his dinner companion. Edward put up one hand.
‘No, I’m all right. Sit down, Charles. I’m sorry.’
And after another moment, the reel in the doctor’s eyes rolled on again.
‘And then the man bent over her. Suddenly, Kathy was awake. Not just coming around from the drug, but wide awake. She’d been shamming sleep – that was obvious – waiting out the murder, picking her moment. And then she was all over the man and all teeth and snarls like an animal. Her little thumbs stabbed at his eyes. That one veered off with both hands to his face. Blood was streaming out between his fingers. You can guess at the damage she did there. And then the cameraman was on her. She closed her mouth on his bare arm and bit off a chunk of the flesh. A chunk of flesh, Charles. And she spat it out on the floor.’
Charles looked into the shattered lenses of Edward’s eyes. The doctor was in the moment. It was happening all over again.
‘And now the men are screaming, lights are being overturned, the camera is lying on the floor. The closing shot is Kathy hightailing it down a dark hall and away from the light, running like the devil, with one shoe off and one shoe on.’
He had liked that stupid look of surprise in the moment she realized she would die. Best of all, he liked the look of her when she was dead, all lines of hostility smoothed out. The only good bitch was a dead bitch. Mallory would be no different.
The two grapes were squashed beneath his thumbs, but slowly in the delicious destruction of the orbs, the breaking of the skin, flattening of membranous flesh therein, the feel of the cold destroyed tissue. Each was a green eye to him. And now he drew his thumbs back from the cutting board. Staring at them, mashed, split, she was blind to him.
‘She wouldn’t press charges,’ said Betty Hyde, setting her coffee mug on the counter top in the Rosens’ kitchen. ‘I don’t suppose you have any more proof on the beating of his mother? I’ve got a very vague column for the morning edition. My editor won’t let me use any names till we exhume the body – and that’s in the works. I also have a young reporter waiting to ambush the judge outside the building tomorrow. You know the sort of thing… “Is there any truth to the rumor that you beat your elderly mother to death?” ’
‘Did Pansy give you anything?’
‘No. Poor Pansy. I’ve never seen that kind of pain close up. She’s gone back to him.’
‘She’s up there now? She’s crazy.’
‘She says he’s always very contrite after he beats her. She’s not afraid of him right now. She thinks she can work this out.’
‘You know he’s going to kill her the next time.’
‘Does she have to file the complaint? Couldn’t you do it? In addition to the humane aspects, I’m thinking of libel laws. An editor won’t touch it without a police report, and there isn’t one.’
‘I didn’t witness the beating. If she says she fell down, the law agrees with her.’
Mallory’s face was devoid of all expression as she folded her arms and looked down at Betty Hyde. Hyde fought off the startling illusion that Mallory had grown taller in the passage of seconds. Now Mallory leaned down, and Hyde stepped back until she was pressed against the kitchen counter.
‘You’re holding out on me. What have you got on Eric Franz?’
It was late to be calling on the neighbors. But then, she
had taken Eric in on the night Annie died. It was late then too. Tit for tut, my dear.
When Eric answered the door, he was pulling his robe closed about his waist, and staring into the air over her left shoulder.
‘Eric, it’s Betty. Can we talk?’
He stepped back from the door and waved her into the room. It was black until he said, ‘Oh, sorry,’ and pressed the light switch. She shouldn’t have been surprised to see the room unchanged. It had been little over a month since Annie died. Although gone was the bad joke of their framed wedding portrait with crayon cuckold’s horns drawn on the head of his likeness.
They were hours and bottles into the wine rack when Eric lost control.
‘Are you crazy? Annie would never have stayed with me those last three years if not for the blindness. No, actually it was the insurance money that changed her mind about divorcing me. And then I had the success of the books and the prizes. But if I had been sighted, she would have left me in a minute and taken a large settlement. But she couldn’t leave a blind man, could she, not a socialite like Annie. What would the neighbors think?’
The latch lowered, and the door opened with a gentle push. He prowled through the dark rooms until he found her. Her long slender body was stretched out on the bed. Her hair had a glow to it, as though she had found a way to trap sunlight, to bring it indoors with her and keep it alive in the night.
He lay down beside her with animal stealth and rolled on to his back and into sleep, four feet paddling the air, chasing mice across his dreams.
It was the cold metal of the gun against his nose that woke him to the bright light of a lamp. He looked at the tip of the gun, and it was necessary to cross his eyes to do this. Weary and unsteady on the bedding, he rose to his hind legs and began the dance. But she was already gone, having slipped from the bed and into the dark of the next room, preceded by the gun in her hand.
The Man Who Lied To Women Page 26