The Seduction - Art Bourgeau (30 page)

”
And Felix?" said Laura, afraid to hear it.

"When they brought him in they gave him a saliva
test. Felix is a secretor with blood type O. If he'd been a
non-secretor or had a different blood type he'd be a free man right
now. But his ABH factors match the killer's. They have positive
identification by a victim, identical method and scientific
evidence." He shook his head. "I hate to say it, but
there's no sense kidding ourselves. Right now it looks like an
airtight case."

”
No, it's not. Almost everybody has type O blood,
and almost everybody is a secretor, for God's sake. That's no
conclusive evidence."

"True," said Coleman. "By itself it
doesn't mean all that much. But with all the rest of it—"

"And Missy Wakefield . . . I've already told you
what she's like, what she did or tried to do with Felix and he turned
her down . . ."

"Yes, and by itself we could make something of
that. But the method is what ties it all together. As I said, only
the killer could know that, and remember, one of the victims was
Felix's ex-wife, another his ex-gir1 friend—"

"She was not his ex-girl friend."

"Whatever," said Coleman. "But they do
have a case that's going to be mighty persuasive to a jury."

His words infuriated Laura. "You sound like you
believe he did it?"

"I didn't say that."

"But you do—"

"I'll give him my not inconsiderable talent and
the best defense money can buy, but Laura, listen to me. Most, almost
all, of the people I defend are guilty. The police don't routinely go
around arresting innocent people, contrary to some people's
prejudices. I fight on procedural grounds, not guilt or innocence."

"What the hell kind of a lawyer are you—?"

"The best," he said."And I think you
know it."

Laura turned and looked out at the almost empty
cafeteria.

"He did not have sex with that woman," she
said.

"Prove it to me, and maybe we have ourselves a
case," Coleman Green said. "I'd like to defend an innocent
client for a change."

"Well, here's your chance, Mr. Green. Felix
Ducroit is innocent. It's your job to defend him and get evidence to
clear him."

"Yes, it is, but this is a rape case, and the
victim's rights are special, different from other cases. I can't
apply any pressure, in fact I'm not even going to see her until court
just so there's no possibility of jeopardizing what very little we
have in our favor."

Laura looked at him. "But I can. I can see her."

"I didn't say that or hear it," said
Coleman Green as he and the other attorney stood up and gathered
their briefcases.
 
 

CHAPTER 27

THE TWENTY millgrams of Valium and her second Bloody
Mary had only just begun to steady Missy's nerves when the doorbell
rang.

Last night's examination at the hospital had been a
nightmare. Strange eyes looking, strange hands touching her private
parts. Twice she'd seen images of her father, his hawklike face
showing the same angry scowl as when she told him about her
pregnancy. Under the lights of the examining room she had forced
herself to stay quiet, holding the policewoman's hand.

The pregnancy test had been negative, but that meant
nothing. One couldn't expect it to be reliable within hours of
conception. She was pregnant; she knew it, felt it. The first thing
she'd done when she got back home was to shower, to scrub away the
dirt of those strange hospital hands that had touched her and then to
douche, although she was sure the douche was pointless. Too little,
too late. It was already inside her, growing. She heard the doorbell
ring again and went to answer it, muttering to herself.

To her surprise, it was Laura Ramsey. Missy narrowed
her eyes and smiled a tight little smile.

"Well, if you don't look like something the cat
drug in," she said to Laura.

"May I come in?"

"Are you housebroken?" Still blocking her
entrance.

"I need to talk to you."

"I can't imagine what for."

"Yes, I think you can."

"If you must . . ." Missy stepped aside to
let her enter, preceded her into the living room and sat down on the
couch. She patted the cushion next to her. "Why don't you sit
here, my dear? If we're going to have girl talk, it's so much more
intimate, don't you think?"

Laura did, and Missy thought how much fun the next
few minutes were going to be. She picked up her drink. "I'm
having a Bloody. Would you like one?"

"No thanks."

"Suit yourself." Missy took a sip of her
drink and set it down on the table, never taking her eyes off of
Laura. What Felix could see in this washed-up piece of dogshit was
beyond her. Lagniappe had better-looking women going begging at
closing time.

As Laura fumbled in her purse Missy said, "How
did you get my address? I'm not in the book."

Laura brought out a small tape recorder and laid it
on the cushion between them.

"Carl told me."

"How convenient for you. I'll have to speak to
him about that."

Something in Missy's voice made Laura look up from
winding and rewinding the tape.

Laura's gaze was steady and knowing, as if Missy had
just let something important slip, and it made Missy feel uneasy. She
was not accustomed to such open defiance from anybody, especially
other women. Now she was the first to look away and glance at the
small tape recorder. "Are you here as a reporter or as dear
Felix's little whore?"

The intended shock value didn't seem to faze Laura,
who said quietly, "Take your pick."

Missy reached for her drink, took a gulp. "It
really doesn't matter to me which, since you obviously are a bust at
both of them."

Laura decided to play it cool. It seemed she was
getting to her.

"Look, I understand that you don't like me and I
don't blame you. In your place I'd feel the same way but—"

Missy thought she saw her opening and went for it.

"What do you mean in my place you'd feel the
same way?"

"I mean that you're an intelligent—"

"Don't patronize me, damn you. You're an
intelligent woman," she mimicked. "Where the hell do you
get off coming in here, to my house, and starting up with this shit?
I don't have to take this—"

It worked. Before Missy could get to her feet Laura
said,

"You're right. I'm sorry." Her tone was
softer and, to Missy's ear, more contrite. She sank back into the
cushions and cocked her head slightly. Better, she thought. Shows a
little humility. Reaching for her cigarettes, Missy said, "All
right, let's try it again from the beginning. What are you doing
here?"

"I'm here, as I think you know, because of
Felix."

"So you've heard what he did to me. News travels
fast."

"I've just come from the police headquarters—"

"Then you are here as a reporter. You're here to
interview me——"

"No, I'm not here as a reporter."

"Then why the tape recorder, dear? Are you going
to play D.A.?"

"Just habit, I guess," Laura said, feeling
she'd been one-upped, and pushed aside.

Missy took a drag of her cigarette. She wanted to
press the point, to make Laura say if she wasn't there as a reporter,
then she was there as Felix's whore. But she tabled the ploy, at
least for the moment. "Go on," she said.

Laura looked her directly in the eye. With, she
hoped, an air of the supplicant. Put her off guard . . . "The
reason I'm here is to appeal to you—"

Missy laughed. "Appeal to me? Dear, you don't
appeal to me at all. Not when you show up on my doorstep looking like
a fashion ad for Lad 'n Dad. I mean dykie is one thing, but this,"
she said with a gesture that carried with it all the disdain of a
queen tossing out handfuls of goat turds to the rabble, "this is
something else."

Laura had seen Missy in action before, but she was
topping any previous ugliness. Stay calm, she ordered herself. Don't
take her bait. Don't blow it.

"We both know Felix is innocent." Laura
said evenly, still looking directly at her.

"Innocent? Darling, I don't know who you're
talking about. It's not the Felix Ducroit I know. Look at these,"
she said, pulling down the neck of the black turtleneck.

Laura saw the bruises. They were ugly and dark.
Someone had hurt Missy, that much was obvious. But she was not
exactly acting like a victim. More like a winner. Admittedly she was
no expert on rape victims, she'd only known two, but after the
experience both had been emotionally devastated. Missy decidedly was
not acting that way. Damn curious. Whatever, Laura decided, she had
to provoke her out of this unreality, to bother her if she was ever
going to make her cooperate . . .

"Just for the moment, at least, let's put Felix
aside and say he didn't do it—"

"But we know he did," Missy said, reaching
for her drink.

"Just pretend. And let's explore something
completely off the wall. Let's think about . . . what if you had sex
with someone—a person you know—things started out okay but they
got out of hand. We've all had that happen before——"

"Maybe you have—"

"Oh, I'm sure you have, too. Let's say that's
how you got the bruises. What does this mean?" She leaned
forward slightly as she said it.

Missy pulled back slightly at the narrowing distance
between them, then cursed herself for giving ground so easily. She
set her drink back on the table, using the movement to cover her
combat faux pas. "Look, can we get to the punchline?"

"Sure. It goes like this. Whoever did this to
you, the police are sure, is the same person who killed the two South
Philly teenagers I've been writing about, as well as Felix's
ex-wife."

"I don't know about South Philly teenagers, for
God's sake. I never read the papers."

"Missy, you're the only person who can identify
the man, and he knows it. He doesn't know about Felix. He has no
choice; he has to come back and kill you before it's too late. Your
only hope is to tell the police everything. It won't get you into
trouble; it'll save your life."

"That's what I did. I have nothing to worry
about."

Laura lost her cool. "Damn you, Missy, what you
did is frame an innocent man. What you did is act like the spoiled
brat you are, always have been——"

"You listen to me—"

"No, you listen to me," said Laura,
shouting her down now, letting it all out. "Felix told me
everything. He told me about how you got him over here, about the
champagne, the caviar, the oysters. He told me about the pregnancy
test, and how you just decided to have his baby—even though you'd
never even been to bed with him. He told me about the whole sick
thing. After he left I'm betting that you picked up someone, called
up someone, or someone called you. That someone is the one the police
are interested in, and if you know what's good for you, my dear,
you'll tell them the truth."

Missy had to force herself not to laugh. After all,
the "someone" was herself. But she played it out. "Are
you threatening me?"

"No, I'm telling you that your life is in
danger."

"Let me tell you something. Let me tell you
about the whole sick thing. I'm only going to say it once, so listen
up. I need to go back a bit . . . you were there at Lagniappe,
sticking your nose in where you weren't wanted the night I met Felix.
You saw him; he couldn't keep his hands off me . . ."

She paused to stub out her barely smoked cigarette
and lit another. Now she was genuinely angry, losing her superior
position.

"After you left with Carl I wanted to come to
the party. He was the one who insisted we come over here. Once we
were here he did everything he could to get me to go to bed with him
but I wouldn't. After that night he wined me, he dined me, we went to
the opera, everything he could do to get me into bed. I wasn't
interested. That's no doubt what did it, pushed him to do what he
did. Men, my dear, are like that. They like difficult women, women
they can't have. Not like you, not like an old shoe."

Laura said nothing.

"It was the excitement," Missy went on. "lt
drove him nuts. Anyway, I invited him over to tell him I wasn't going
to see him again. That's when it happened. I fought like hell, but it
did no good. He handcuffed me and did what he wanted. And then he
tried to kill me." Feeling in control now, she said, "That's
the reason I called the police. If he hadn't tried to kill me, hadn't
left me for dead, handcuffed and naked, I could have lived with it.
Men get carried away like that. But this was way over the edge. He's
dangerous. If what you say about the teenagers and, did you say his
ex-wife?" adding astonishment to her voice, ”are true, then I
didn't realize how really dangerous he is, and I thank God he's
behind bars where he can't hurt anyone except the other boys in the
shower." Very nice, Missy, she said to herself, critiquing her
act.