Chapter One Hundred
One Hundred
Mary sat completely still, except for her eyes, which first narrowed at Detective Kendall, before bouncing over to Detective Choi, and finally to the manila envelope on the table.
‘What problem?’
Kendall retrieved a photograph from inside the envelope and placed it on the table in front of Mary.
It was a Polaroid photo of a woman – a facial shot.
Her eyes were open, and all that Mary could really see in them was fear.
She had seen that same Polaroid photo before – on the wall down in Quaddra’s basement.
‘Do you know this woman?’ Kendall asked.
‘No,’ Mary shook her head. ‘I don’t, but I’m sure that she was one of the women on the wall down in that basement. Just like I told you.’
‘She was,’ Choi confirmed.
‘So, what’s the problem?’ Mary asked, her eyes wide, her head shaking ever so slightly.
Kendall retrieved several other Polaroid photos from the envelope, placing them all on the table in front of Mary.
They all followed the exact same pattern as the columns in Quaddra’s wall – three facial close-ups, to start, then photos of the hands, body, bare feet and, finally, another facial close-up – the cadaver shot.
‘Yes,’ Mary said firmly. ‘That was exactly what I told you – the photos displayed in columns – each column representing a different woman… a different victim.’
‘And you have no idea who she is?’ Choi, this time.
‘No. I’ve never seen her before. The first time I saw her was in these photos, on the wall down in that fucking basement.’
Kendall retrieved another photo from the envelope. This one, Mary had never seen before. It wasn’t a Polaroid. It was a headshot – the type used by casting companies, model agencies and movie studios. The woman on the photo was the same woman from the Polaroids.
‘What the hell is this?’ Mary asked, frowning at the photo.
‘You haven’t seen this photo before?’ Kendall asked.
‘No.’
‘It was on the wall,’ Choi informed Mary. ‘Together with all the Polaroids. This was the very first photo right at the top of the columns you mentioned. Every column had one.’
‘What?’
The two detectives exchanged a concerned look.
‘So, you’re telling me that you saw all the Polaroids on that wall,’ Choi pressed. ‘But you didn’t see this?’
Mary felt a shiver grab hold of her. ‘No, that photo was not on that wall. And what are you talking about – every column had one.’
‘Her name is Elena Munoz,’ Kendall took over. ‘She’s an actress based in Los Angeles.’
Confusion seemed to form an aura around Mary.
‘We spoke to her about an hour or so ago,’ Choi tipped in. ‘She’s alive and well.’
‘You guys are kidding, right?’
‘Do we look like we’re kidding?’ Choi asked.
Kendall grabbed another set of Polaroids from the envelope – same exact pattern – face, hands, body, bare feet and face again. ‘How about her? Do you know her?’
‘No.’ The word came out with a deflated breath.
Kendall placed another model agency headshot on the table – the same woman as the Polaroids. ‘Kaitlin Morse,’ he told Mary. ‘Also an actress based in LA. Also very alive and well. You didn’t see this picture on the wall either?’
Tears welled up in Mary’s eyes. ‘No. That wasn’t on that wall.’
Kendall retrieved a third set from the envelope – exactly the same as the previous two, followed by another headshot.
‘Amanda Carrillo,’ he said. ‘Another actress from LA, who’s living the dream down there.
Emphasis on “living”.’ He fixed Mary with a laser stare.
‘Shall I continue? Because I’ve got sixteen more in here? ’
‘I…’ Mary stuttered. ‘I don’t understand.’
‘These women,’ Choi tried to explain. ‘All of them. All nineteen women showing on the wall in that basement.’ He tapped the envelope with his right hand.
‘All of these women… they’re actresses… and they’re all alive and well.
’ He gave Mary a few seconds so that his words could sink in.
‘Do you know what your “husband’s” production company’s main source of income is?
’ He used his fingers to draw air quotes when he mentioned the word husband.
‘I mean, what type of movies they produce the most?’
Mary had never really talked to Quaddra about that. She had never really talked to Quaddra about any of his businesses. ‘No,’ she replied, her voice faltering. ‘As a rule, we never talked about work at home.’
‘That’s a good rule,’ Choi agreed. ‘Pretty convenient too.’
‘Horror films,’ Kendall offered in explanation. ‘B-type movies, slasher movies, silly gore… that kind of stuff.’
Mary heard the words, but her brain was having a hard time understanding them.
‘All the photos on that wall,’ Choi continued.
‘Were test shots for one of the company’s productions – a serial killer TV series – eight episodes.
The production company, or your “husband”…
’ He drew air quotes again. ‘… needed a different actress for each episode – eight in total – in case you forgot how to count. The photos were splashed over the wall in that basement to ease the selection process for your “husband”.’ Air quotes again.
‘But he confessed,’ Mary blurted out, her tone dripping anxiety.
‘Quaddra confessed to murdering all of those women.’ She pointed at the envelope.
‘Did you hear the 911 call? It’s all there.
He said it loud and clear while we were in the kitchen.
He said that he had to kill them all, in the same way that he would have to kill me. ’
Kendall and Choi exchanged a new look that Mary wasn’t able to decipher.
‘Did you hear the 911 call?’ Mary asked again, her voice reaching a new octave.
‘We did,’ Kendall confirmed, while reaching inside his jacket pocket for his cellphone. ‘We actually have it here.’ He called up an application on his phone, placed it on the table, and hit the “play” button. ‘Have a listen.’
‘Nine-one-one, what’s your emergency?’ The dispatch operator’s voice came through the tiny speakers at the bottom of the phone.
‘There’s an intruder in my house,’ a desperate male voice replied – Quaddra’s voice. ‘A woman… she’s gone mad. She’s trying to kill me. Please help.’
‘What?’ If disbelief had a human form, it would be Mary right at that moment.
Kendall lifted a hand at her, indicating that there was more.
‘What’s your address, sir?’
Quaddra rattled the address in a shaky voice.
‘Are you in the house right now?’
‘Yes. I’m hiding. I’m in the kitchen. But she’s going to find me.’
‘OK, I need you to stay hidden and stay on the line with me, OK? Units are on their way to you right now. They’ll be there in less than five minutes. Are you hurt?’
‘Yes. I walked in on her in my office, and she slammed me across the face with something. I’m bleeding, badly, and I feel really dizzy. My eyes are completely out of focus. I can’t… Oh fuck, she’s here. She’s got a knife. Arghhh, arghhh, arghhh…’
A loud noise followed, as if the phone had been smashed against the ground.
Kendall stopped the recording. ‘The call was placed at 12:38 a.m.’ He informed Mary. ‘Five minutes before uniforms showed up in response.’
‘There’s no other 911 call for that address?’ Mary asked, her voice weak.
‘Nope,’ Choi replied. ‘This was the only recorded call.’
In the kitchen, last night, Mary had dropped the phone just as she had dialed 911…
just as Quaddra had gotten to the kitchen.
She had hoped that the call had connected, and she was pretty certain that it had once she saw the flashing police lights outside, but they weren’t there because of her call.
They were there because of his. Her call had never connected.
‘That’s not right,’ Mary said, shaking her head at both detectives. ‘That was a fake call.’
‘It sounds pretty legit to us,’ Choi said. ‘Especially because that was exactly what several SFPD officers encountered as they arrived at the house – you, covered in the caller’s blood, holding the knife that you had used to stab him with.’
To Mary nothing made sense anymore. She could understand that Quaddra had weaved a pretty believable story to the detectives to try to get him off the hook – the women on those Polaroids weren’t victims…
they were actresses on test shots for one of his company’s productions…
the same with the video or videos in that computer…
just test reels – but where had those headshots come from?
The detectives had said that they found them on the wall, right at the top of each column, but Mary knew that that wasn’t true – those headshots weren’t on that wall down in that basement – so how the hell did they get there?
There was no way that Quaddra had time to stick nineteen headshots to that wall before he came after Mary in the kitchen.
And even if he had somehow miraculously stopped time to add those headshots to that wall, they would’ve been covered in blood…
because his hands were covered in blood.
And who were the women that the detectives talked to on the phone?
They said that they contacted all the actresses on those Polaroids and they were all alive and well. How was that possible?
‘My cellphone,’ Mary said, her pleading eyes meeting Kendall’s stare.
‘What?’ he asked.
‘I threw my cellphone at Quaddra just as he was about to attack me when we were in the basement,’ Mary explained.
‘Did you find a cellphone on the floor somewhere? I took pictures of that wall before he came after me. I can prove that those headshots weren’t there.
They weren’t at the top of each column like you said they were.
And I never stopped recording when we were down there.
You’ll be able to hear exactly what happened. ’
‘No cellphone,’ Choi replied.
Kendall shook his head. ‘No, there was nothing on the floor in that basement except for blood.’
For the second time in less than twenty-four hours, Mary felt hope leave her.
‘Look,’ Choi took over. ‘Why don’t you just come clean and save us all a lot of hassle and a lot of shitty hours locked in this room? Tell us why you wanted to kill him? Was he an abusive ex-boyfriend? Someone who dumped you and you wanted your revenge?’
‘I was defending myself,’ Mary told them again, as tears finally broke through.
‘That story won’t fly, Mary,’ Choi said in return before pointing out the obvious.
‘You don’t have a scratch on you, while the dude in the hospital is covered in defensive wounds.
’ He lifted his arms at her, simulating a person trying to defend himself from a knife attack.
‘Hands… arms…shoulders the lot. We have the 911 call with him begging for help and saying that a crazy woman was trying to kill him in his house… we have the attack weapon, covered in his blood and your fingerprints… and we have six police officers who witnessed you exiting the house carrying that weapon.’
‘Arms?’ Mary asked, her eyes jittering from one detective to another. ‘I never touched his arms. And he was reaching for my throat. I got lucky placing the blade between his hand and my throat.’
Choi sniggered. ‘Are you saying that you just held the knife up and he ran into the blade?’
‘I know it sounds crazy…’
‘Oh, you think?’ Choi cut her short. ‘Just tell us straight, Mary – you went into that house to kill that guy.’
‘Quaddra,’ Mary said, her tone a crazy mix of anger and fear. ‘I’ve told you his name a thousand times. And he’s not “that guy”, he’s my husband.’
‘You see,’ Choi said, as he pressed his lips together and nodded back at Mary. ‘This is why I asked you if you were on any medications… maybe something anti-psychotic?’
‘I’m not psychotic, and I’m not on any medications.’ Irritation clearly coming through in Mary’s tone.
‘So, tell me something,’ Kendall said, as he reached for something else from the envelope before placing it on the table, facing Mary.
This time, he retrieved an enlarged photocopy of a California driver’s license.
‘If you’re not psychotic and you’re not lying, why do you keep on calling him Quaddra when his name is Thomas – Thomas Cameron. ’