Chapter Fourteen
“...no one leaves...”
“...separate rooms...”
Voices were going in and out. Sounds were going in and out. My breaths were going in, but barely out.
I couldn’t move. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think. But I could see... her face... the blood... clear as day... over and over again.
“...turn over all phones, cameras, and recording devices—”
“Come now, man,” Captain Roberts gruffed—popping the cone of silence that descended on me. “There are very important and influential people here. Celebrities! None of them walked up here and murdered some old woman in her bed!”
“Respectfully, sir, we cannot rule anyone out at this point. There is enough food and beds in this mansion that no one can claim cruel or unlawful treatment. On the contrary, I’m sure all of those important and influential celebrities would rather spend the night in a mansion than in our holding cells. ”
“Holding cells?” he sputtered. Captain Roberts was a stout, hefty man with red cheeks getting dangerously redder, and a weak quivering jaw that was shaking like Jell-O right then.
“Look here, Davis, there won’t be any talk of holding cells.
I will not allow LPD to be the top news story—blasting the brutish, heavy-handed cops who rounded innocent people up and treated them like cattle without cause. I—”
“Sir,” Davis cut in, tone calm. “May I request that you let me lead this investigation from this point on? You’ve had more than a little to drink... sir.”
I don’t know if it was what he said, the way he said it, or the obvious delay in address, but Roberts went from red to puce so fast, it could’ve been a health event.
But Davis didn’t waver in his stiff-backed resolve. He had taken control of the scene from the minute our screams brought him running. In an instant, he was on the radio alerting the other officers, locking down the party, and tackling me when I tried to throw myself on my mother.
He dragged me bodily from the room, and no doubt would’ve tried to get me farther than one foot outside the door, but he had to drop me and protect his face because I was doing too good a job clawing it to ribbons.
The man probably would’ve booked me for assault if he didn’t have other things on his mind.
“This is horrible,” Christie cried. Crying into my hair, she crushed me to her chest. “This is so horrible. How could this happen? How!”
“You are under my command,” Roberts roared. “You will do what I say.”
“Without question, sir.” Bleeding from a dozen cuts on his face and a head shorter than his captain, and somehow Davis still looked like the bigger man.
“The media will inevitably pick up this story, and my fears are yours, sir.
What will they say of the Lantana PD if they discover we compromised the investigation into the murder of a prominent and influential member of our community, because we kowtowed to a bunch of arrogant and entitled cityfolk?
“You are absolutely right, sir, that we cannot allow that to happen. The reputation of our community and those of us who serve it faithfully are at stake. The last thing you will allow, sir, is for the LPD to be called anything less than fair, diligent, and by the book.”
“That— That—” Roberts blinked, wobbling on his feet. Davis was right, the man was completely skunked. “That’s correct, Davis, well said. The men and women who serve me are complete professionals. I won’t have some grubby journalist claim we let the rich play by a different set of rules.”
Clearing his throat, he backed away—looking around at all the officers, event planners, and grieving daughters like he didn’t know what he was doing there. “Davis, you have this in hand. Secure the crime scene until the detectives arrive.”
“Yes, sir.”
When he finally left, Davis turned to the five officers awaiting his instructions. “Secure the scene— No, secure the entire wing. No one except law enforcement comes anywhere near this area,” he said. “Begin confiscating all the phones, cameras, and recording devices.
“Separate the main suspects from the rest, and keep watch over them at all times. We had officers on all floors and at every staircase, so it shouldn’t be a problem identifying every individual who left the party and came upstairs for whatever reason they gave.
But your focus is to be on the staff...” Davis shifted, his gaze penetrating through to my soul. “And the homeowners.
“It is not a coincidence that two elderly women were brutally stabbed and killed only two weeks apart on the same property. Everyone,” he gritted, “and I mean everyone who was in the proximity of those events will speak to us now.
“This never should’ve happened.” Davis’s voice shook.
“Twice this killer has struck while surrounded by people, but this time they did it in a manor full of cops—taunting us for being so stupid, arrogant, and slow that we let this happen not once, but twice. The fact is that we have failed the people of this community, and we started with Eleanor Prado. But on my badge, we will not fail Madame Kim as well.”
“Yes, sir,” the officers belted, even though I was fairly sure they were all ranked at the same level as him.
They snapped to it—following his orders of securing the scene, herding the partygoers, and separating the most likely suspects from the least.
Davis approached me.
“Mrs. Kim,” he began, not unkindly. “I am deeply sorry for your loss, and I’m not just parroting what I’ve been told to say. No one should ever have to see their mother that way. No one should lose their mother in such a terrible way. But—”
“But?” Christie cried, holding me tighter. I was a silent, dead-eyed doll in her hands. All I could do was stare at my feet, and the drops of blood on the carpet between my shoes. “What but?”
“But,” Davis pressed. “While it is undeniable that you didn’t kill your mother while I was at your side all night, that fact does not rule you out as a suspect.”
“What on earth are you talking about!” Christie shrieked, summoning all the rage I should be feeling.
“How could you even think such a monstrous thing! Did you see—did you see—what was done to—” Christie gagged, nearly throwing up for the second time.
“You s-saw what that beast did to that poor, helpless woman. No sane person had any part of that!”
“I did see what was done to Madame Kim.” Davis was the picture of calm.
“And that was rage, Ms. Baudelaire. No one stabs a bedridden woman that many times for fun. Only someone who hated Madame Kim could do that, and”—that same look pinned me to the spot—“Madame Kim had twenty-eight years to fill Mrs. Kim with resentment—in the ways only a mother can.”
“Heaven help me,” Christie breathed. “What a foul way to see the world. You’re talking about a mother and her child, Officer. Do you even hear yourself!”
“I do hear myself.” Davis knelt, looking me in the eyes.
“And now I need you to hear me, Mrs. Kim. Take a minute, find your strength, and then get up. You have a few hours—possibly even until the morning—before the detectives arrive. Take that time to rest, eat, call a lawyer—I don’t care.
But when they come, you’d better be ready to answer all of our questions, because this time, I’m not leaving until I catch the miserable fucker that did this. ”
I DON’T KNOW WHAT IT was. If I actually found my strength, or if hearing the straitlaced Davis cursing did it, but somehow, I got off the floor and let Christie lead me down to the kitchen for some water, and a too-big slice of crème br?lée cake.
She said that sugar would help with the shock, but I don’t think I was in shock. What’s shock supposed to feel like? How did anyone know for sure if they were experiencing it?
Christie was sure I was though, because I saw the third most horrific thing I’d ever seen in my life... but I hadn’t shed one tear.
“It’s okay, Mrs. Kim, don’t feel any shame over letting it out.” She pushed a cup of sweet chamomile tea at me in between squeezing the stuffing out of me. “You cry if you need to cry. I’m right here. I won’t leave you for a second.”
That was a really nice thing for her to say. Despite knowing me for only a couple weeks, she was being so supportive—making space for me and my trauma, even though I was no more than another client.
Christie was good people, but she didn’t have to go through the trouble.
No tears were coming.
I touched my cheeks, staring uncomprehendingly at my dry fingertips. I cried when Sue died accidentally, and I hated that bitch with every fiber of my soul. Why could I cry for her, but I can’t cry for my own mother after she’s brutally murdered?
No answer was forthcoming.
“Where are Micah, Rhodes, and Alex?” I asked the countertop.
“Your husbands have been invited to retire to their rooms for the night. We didn’t want you four to— What I mean is, there’s nothing for you or them to do at this stage except to let us do our jobs while we wait for the detectives to arrive,” she said. “You too should get some rest, Mrs. Kim.”
I heard the real end of her sentence loud and clear. We didn’t want you four to compare your matricide notes and get your stories straight.
“What about my guests?” I heard myself say. “Courtney? My in-laws? I have to make sure they’re okay and—”
“We will take care of everything, Mrs. Kim. No one is so heartless that they’d ask anything of you right now. Just get some sleep.” She held out her hand. “Let me take you up.”
I didn’t know what else to do, so I gave in—allowing her to take me to the bedroom currently being stripped of its laptop, computer, and even its television.
Seeing as smart TVs got the capability to connect to the internet years ago, I understood the precaution.
Apparently they couldn’t chance me contacting whoever I was “working with.”
“Your phone too, ma’am.”