by Alexa Steele
Arthur considered Mack’s words.
“Whose the parent you are referring to? The father of which kid?”
Weber lifted her head and looked at Mack as though she knew what was coming next.
“He means the mother of which kid, doesn’t he, Marion?” Mack grinned.
Arthur looked momentarily off guard, as he turned to Weber with questioning eyes. She didn’t return his glance. Her eyes remained fixed upon Mack.
“We believe your client and Mrs. Jordan are intimate,” Mack spoke smoothly. He seemed relaxed and comfortable.
“Define intimate,” Arthur teased with a smug smile, without missing a beat. Weber was pure stone, her eyes fixated on something in her lap.
“I would rather not,” Mack countered.
Bella looked straight at Arthur and avoided Weber’s eyes.
“We have a witness who saw the two of them kiss. On the lips.” Bella emphasized the last part of the sentence.
There was a moment of silence, then Bella tilted her head and chided, “That was a bad move, Marion. What happened? You simply couldn’t control yourself a minute longer?”
Marion’s face turned red and Arthur saw it.
“Who is this witness?” Arthur asked dismissively.
“Irrelevant,” Bella responded. “All you need to know is she’s very credible, very much alive, and very willing to testify to what she saw.”
“Since when is kissing a woman a crime?” Arthur queried mockingly.
Bella and Mack had agreed beforehand not to reveal what they knew of Dunmore’s history and Weber’s part in it.
“When you’re suspect number one in a triple homicide everything you do matters, Arthur. You know that,” Mack interjected with a patronizing smile. “And sharing a kiss with a married mother in town whose patient you are treating, well, there’s gotta be a conflict of interest in there somewhere, no?”
Weber’s face twitched slightly.
“If you’re worth your salt you would advise her to think this one through,” Bella said.
A look of concern did shoot across Marion’s face, but only for a moment. She shook her head, closed her eyes, and gazed down into her lap.
“What information do you have that gives you any reason to believe my client had anything to do with these murders? She shared a kiss with a woman and you think she’s a serial killer?” Arthur exclaimed.
Bella paused, leaned back in her chair, and observed Weber, who looked more upset than Bella had seen so far.
“We are giving you a chance to clear things up, Marion. Do you really want to take the rap for someone if you’re not involved in this?”
“What are you offering?” Arthur growled at Mack, to whom he directed all his communication. She didn’t care—as long as they got Weber to speak.
“Don’t know yet. Gotta hear what she has to say,” Mack answered.
Arthur looked peeved.
“You’ve got a few minutes, Jimmy. Not much leeway.”
He turned to Weber and whispered something in her ear. She looked like she didn’t much like what she heard and stiffened in her chair, straightening her back and taking a deep breath. She looked directly across the table into Bella’s eyes with a seething glare.
“How well do you know Mrs. Jordan?” Bella asked Weber directly.
Weber’s features tightened and the corner of her lips curved slightly.
“Are we to take your silence as some kind of an answer?” Bella inquired. She couldn’t stand this woman.
“Not well.” Weber’s eyelashes fluttered when she said this.
“It seems Jenna may have skipped town,” Bella said casually, like this was the most predictable thing in the world. “Any idea why?”
At this, Weber’s expression changed markedly. Whether it was hearing the name Jenna, or finding out she left town, Bella did not know. But it was clear to anyone paying attention Weber was affected by what Bella said.
“No,” she quietly replied.
“Do you know where she is?”
“I do not,” Weber answered. “I hope she is not in danger.” She actually looked sad for a moment.
“How thoughtful of you,” Bella remarked sarcastically. “Where did you two first meet?”
Marion pursed her lips tightly and shrugged. “I don’t recall.”
“You don’t recall, huh?” Bella’s disbelief rang clear.
“That’s enough, little lady,” Arthur interrupted. “You want this interview to continue you better watch how you speak to her.”
“What did you call me?”
Before he could answer Mack intervened. “Relax, Arthur. No need to get your knickers in a twist. Just asking a few simple, straightforward questions, that’s all.”
“Nothing simple or straightforward about them, Jimmy. And I don’t like your partner’s tone.”
He spoke as though Bella were not in the room.
“Boo-hoo,” Bella shot back. “I’ve got a feeling your client can more than handle me.”
“She doesn’t seem to want to talk much,” Mack answered.
“She’s answering the questions. You just don’t like the answers you’re getting,” Arthur defended her.
“She’s stonewalling and you know it,” Bella said.
“Arthur, you’re not going to pretend you are happy she’s so reluctant to talk,” Mack stated
“You two are pissing me off. You’ve got a few more questions then we’re outta here,” Arthur threatened.
He turned to Weber, put his hand over hers, and rubbed it sympathetically.
“You can continue. It’s OK,” he comforted.
She looked like she wanted his hands off hers. Immediately.
“OK, you don’t remember where you met Jenna. Do you remember when you met her?”
Marion’s slow wide grin revealed her horrid, yellow teeth as she shook her head no and shrugged her shoulders. It was a disturbing grin, one even Arthur turned away from.
For a brief moment Bella imagined the women at Dunmore, those poor souls who were not only crazy but were confined to an asylum with Weber as their savior. She thought about what Billy had said, how she had ruled the female ward all those years. How she must have known about the abuse and rape of all those forgotten women who were really more like demented girls. But she hadn’t protected them, Bella thought to herself. Instead, she had covered her own ass and Barker’s. Even as the one entrusted with their treatment and care she had abandoned them like everyone else in their life. Shocking that she didn’t feel enough to jump in and act. Just then a thought entered her head and, before Bella had a chance to process it, she blurted it out.
“Do you know Jenna from your days at Dunmore?”
Mack and Arthur turned to Bella, stunned at the question.
Marion simply stared, an eerie smile plastered across her face.
“You have some imagination, Detective,” was all she said.
“I’ll take that as a no?” Bella asked calmly.
“Take it however you like,” Weber replied.
“Well, I need an answer, Marion,” Bella smiled, “so that my imagination doesn’t run away with me.”
“Let it run if it must. It’s all in good fun,” Weber challenged. She was not answering the question. A simple “No” would have sufficed, but she was not saying no. She was more interested in toying with Bella.
“You seem particularly protective of Jenna,” Bella replied slowly. “I am wondering why.”
“That’s enough!” Arthur smacked his hand down on the table. “We’re done. Until you tell me why my client is under suspicion I am advising her not to say another word. Do your own detective work if you’re so interested in Mrs. Jordan. My client isn’t going to make a case for you against her for the hell of it. Or anyone else for that matter.”
“Arthur,” Mack began, but he was cut off.
“You’re barking up the wrong tree, Jimmy, and it ain’t gonna happen. Not with me around. Let’s go.”
&nb
sp; Arthur stood and motioned to Marion it was time to leave. She sauntered out of the room, but not without shooting Bella a death stare.
John Hausner, who had been listening outside, strode into the room when they were gone and closed the door behind him.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” he blasted. “Did you just suggest she knew Jenna from Dunmore? Are you out of your mind? Based on what?”
“You sound like her defense lawyer, John. Don’t forget what side you’re on,” Bella countered.
“I didn’t forget anything. It’s because I am so clear that I am so angry,” he answered. “You drag Weber in here and focus on Jenna? Based on what this waitress saw? You don’t even know for sure the woman in the diner is Weber, let alone Jenna, whose motive would be what exactly?”
“That’s what we’re trying to figure out, man,” Mack retorted, defending Bella.
“You asked if someone might be setting Weber up.” Bella was exasperated. “We have a witness who saw her kissing a woman fitting Jenna’s exact description. Jenna is nowhere to be found.”
“Why in hell would Jenna kill three people?”
“The woman’s been seething about her daughter not getting into Vanderbilt, jealous as hell that the Freed girl did. The girls who died were going there too. Coincidence?”
“So she killed them over it? Then sadistically butchered her friend? That’s your theory?” He was incredulous. “And Weber went along for the ride? Are you purposely trying to ruin my career?”
“Sorry, but I wasn’t thinking about your career,” Bella snidely responded. “As far as I know, jealousy has always been a pretty reliable motive.”
“I asked you who might want to set Weber up and this is what you come up with, Bella? A suburban housewife upset her daughter didn’t get into the college of her choice?” John railed.
Bella was on her feet. “And you don’t find it noteworthy that this poor little suburban mother may have locked lips with a demented psychiatrist who shielded a notorious rapist for years at the exact same hospital the crests on our victims came from?”
Bella didn’t like being spoken to like she was an idiot. She was fuming.
“Oh yeah. And now she just happens to have skipped town to dial it down, as her husband suggested. Dial it down from what? You haven’t met this woman, John. She’s not normal,” Bella yelled.
“You need to give me something concrete here, Bella! Your theories aren’t tangible,” John yelled back.
“Come on, man,” Mack intervened. “Ever hear of circumstantial evidence?”
“Yes, it just so happens I have heard of it. Thanks, Mack,” John said sarcastically. “But while you were sleeping away the last eighteen months a little case called Holver versus Troy was decided limiting how you can use it. It’s light reading—I suggest you brush up on it if you’re gonna be back in the game.”
Mack kept his cool. “No need to be a prick and make this business harder than it has to be,” he replied quietly.
“It’s pricks like me who keep you from wasting precious time and resources on trips to nowhere,” John responded. “I don’t want to hear about Jenna Jordan anymore. Go talk to Kempner and see what you can learn about the missing girl. Weber was evasive enough right now to arouse my suspicion, and her connection to Dunmore and the crests is verifiable.”
He exhaled loudly, grabbed his files off the table, and turned to look at Bella and Mack once more before leaving.
“Focus on the girl in the photos.”
CHAPTER 34
Kempner was nodding off in his rocking chair on his front porch when Bella and Mack pulled down a long, straight, gravelly driveway toward an eighteenth-century farmhouse surrounded by acres of land as far as the eye could see.
For a man of eighty-three years old, Kempner looked to be in decent physical condition. He had thin white hair, weather-beaten skin, and a big belly, but rose easily from his chair and walked at a quick clip, though he used a cane and bore the weight of a slight limp. They followed him into the turn-of-the-century house straight into a small kitchen, where they sat themselves at a rectangular pine kitchen table. Kempner put a teakettle on the stove to boil water. Once brewed, he brought out a bowl of kale chips, sat down, and regaled them with his life story. They soon learned he had been one of five psychologists who worked in the men’s ward during the years leading up to the hospital’s closing, and that he remembered well the scandal with Barker.
“How could I forget? It’s what shut us down,” he said, frowning.
“Were you aware of the rape and abuse going on at the hospital at the time?” Mack asked.
“No. I had no idea,” Kempner answered and shook his head. “I was disgusted when I learned of it.”
Something about the way he averted his eyes when he answered made Bella feel he was lying.
“You had no idea, huh?” Bella queried. “Hard to imagine that would be possible, Doctor.”
She and Mack had agreed Mack would run the interview and she knew he would not be happy with her interruption, but she just couldn’t help herself. Kempner didn’t like her insinuation either.
“It was a long, long time ago, my dear,” Kempner replied sadly.
Here it was, Bella noticed. The “my dear,” “my little lady,” “sweetheart”—endearing terms used by men when they wanted to keep her in her place.
“Yes, it was,” she responded. “There must have been rumors though?”
Mack shot her a look as Kempner shook his head no. She nodded for Mack to do his thing and she reluctantly sat back, signaling she would let him take control. Mack began:
“Dr. Kempner, as I mentioned on the phone we are in the middle of a homicide investigation. There have been three murders, all in the same town. All three victims were female. All three had ribbons hanging around their necks with a unique crest at the bottom. We traced these crests to Dunmore. Apparently, they were Barker’s. He handed them out to girls at his parties.”
Mack let the good old doctor take that in for a minute.
“Have you ever seen these crests before?” Mack asked as he slid a photograph over to Kempner. The doctor shook his head no.
“OK,” Mack continued. “During the course of our investigation we learned that a patient at Dunmore, a girl who should have been transferred to State with the others, never made it there. We’ve traced her paperwork, but have come up empty. She would have been nineteen at the time. We are hoping to find her.”
Kempner acted surprised.
“I am very sorry to hear this. I don’t know anything about it,” was all he said. Again, Bella did not believe him.
“Well, Doc, you see, we read her discharge papers. It seems you are the one who signed off on her release, into the custody of an uncle.” Mack looked at Kempner as if to say his time was running out.
Kempner gave a small cough and looked up at the sky as though trying to remember.
“If that’s what the paperwork says then that is what I did,” Kempner replied stoically. “I signed off on releases. That was one of my roles.”
“Yes, I understand. The problem is that this uncle of hers—he never existed. He was fabricated.” Mack said this slowly, as if to emphasize his point. Bella did all she could not to interfere.
Dr. Kempner looked at Mack with caution.
“What are you implying, sir?”
“We are simply curious about whether you might know anything about this matter. As you were the one who signed her out,” Mack said in a casual, no-nonsense way.
It was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Kempner looked at both of them and didn’t say a word.
“While you are trying to remember,” Mack went on, “I just want to point out that we also learned you were fortunate to come into a large sum of money right around the time Dunmore closed. How lucky.” Mack smiled. “We assume it is what enabled you to buy this beautiful farm, and to retire.”
Bingo. He planted it. Point made. Bella held her smile and stared at Kempner to r
ead his reaction. He remained composed but looked far away, and sad, as though a moment he had long been dreading had just come down upon him.
“I don’t know what you want me to say,” he said quietly.
“We want to know what happened to this particular girl,” Mack said quietly in return. “It is very important we find her.”
Kempner looked at Mack, this beefy Cuban sipping tea in his kitchen. Mack smiled and shrugged.
“Time to talk, Doc,” he said.
Kempner nodded that he understood. His eyes became misty and remote, almost as though he might cry. Mack looked sorry for the guy, but Bella felt impatient. She wanted answers and was convinced he had some.
Kempner bowed his head and, in a hollow and frail voice, began talking. He admitted to signing a fake release and acknowledged there was no uncle into whose hands this girl went. He did it for the money, plain and simple—a chance to leave the world of the criminally insane for good.
“The years at Dunmore were a nightmare. The place was right out of a horror movie--violent, unpredictable, dangerous. The patients and the staff were more like inmates left to their own devices.”
He described Dunmore as a prison, not a hospital. Patients routinely locked in seclusion, shrieking and wailing all night. Suicide attempts made every day in every way imaginable. Gangs of nurses roamed the halls, beat, kicked, and strangled vulnerable patients, stripped them naked, poured ice water on them. Two starved to death during his tenure.
“You name the brutality. We had it,” he whispered.
“So you were paid to get her out?” Mack asked.
Kemper nodded.
“By whom?” Mack urged.
“Bobby,” he said simply.
Bella and Mack looked at one another.
“Why?” asked Bella.
“Because she was his girl. They had been together for years. It was an open secret. She could have buried him on a silver platter and threatened to. I guess he bought her silence. She never testified against him. She just disappeared.”