Chapter One Hundred and One
One Hundred and One
Mary’s surprised and questioning eyes stayed on the driver’s license photocopy for several long seconds.
All the information about Quaddra was correct – date and city of birth, address, and it was definitely Quaddra on the photograph, except the name read Thomas Cameron…
not Quaddra Buckner. ‘That’s fake,’ she said, shaking her head at the detectives. ‘It’s got to be.’
Choi’s eyebrows lifted at her.
‘You don’t understand,’ Mary tried to remedy an argument that had already gone sideways yesterday. ‘Thomas is just a name that he uses when he doesn’t want anyone to know who he is.’
Kendall and Choi looked at each other.
‘A name that he uses when he doesn’t want anyone to know who he is?’ Choi asked. ‘In your head, that doesn’t sound crazy?’
‘It’s legit,’ Kendal said, nodding at the photocopy. ‘We’ve checked it.’
What the fuck is going on here? the voice inside Mary’s head asked.
‘Shall we talk about all the photos on the other wall?’ Kendall took over again, reaching for a second manila envelope, which he had kept on the floor by his chair.
Mary frowned back at him so hard, her eyebrows almost touched at the center of her forehead. ‘What photos? And what other wall?’
‘The one to the right of the wall with all the test shots for the serial killer series?’ Choi replied, pointing at the first manila envelope that contained all the Polaroids they’d just shown Mary.
‘What about the wall to the right of it? What photos are you talking about?’
‘The ones displayed on it?’ Choi’s intrigued stare zoomed in on Mary. ‘Or are you also trying to tell us that you didn’t see those either… just like you didn’t see the headshots at the head of all those Polaroid columns.’
‘There were no photos on the wall to the right of the one with the Polaroids,’ Mary said, fighting back tears once again.
‘Evidence to the contrary,’ Kendall said, placing the second manila envelope on the table.
Mary’s attention crawled to it and despite not having a clue what was inside that envelope, fear began spreading to every corner of her body.
Kendall reached into the second envelope and brought out ten new photographs. None of them were Polaroids – these were all A4-sized, colored, portrait photographs, which he placed on the table in two rows – five photos each.
‘Do you recognize any of these people?’
Mary’s attention returned to the table, and she felt her jaw muscles tightening.
Choi was attentively studying Mary’s every reaction, every movement, every expression. He knew that she had recognized at least some of the people on those photos even before she answered the question.
‘What the fuck?’ Mary said under her breath, as her gaze moved from one photo to the other.
‘You recognize them?’ Kendall pushed.
‘Yes,’ Mary finally replied. ‘Everyone but these two.’ She indicated the last photo on the second row.
It was the only photo in the whole group that showed two people in the same photograph, the remaining nine were individual portrait shots.
The photo that Mary had indicated was of a couple – a man and a woman together.
He was an older gentleman, mid-sixties perhaps, with a clean-shaven head.
His ears looked a little odd – too big for his head – as if they’d been glued on.
The woman had dark hair, a hawk-style nose, and she looked to be at least fifteen years younger than the ‘big ears’ gentleman.
They did look vaguely familiar, but Mary was too confused by all the other photos to be able to search her memory.
‘Who are the people you recognize?’ Choi asked, gesturing broadly at the photos. ‘Can you tell us?’
Mary started with the top row, moving from left to right.
‘Antonia and Gabriela are our housemaids.’ She indicated as she spoke.
‘Jonas takes care of the garden, the pool and everything else that needs fixing around the house. These are all Quaddra’s friends – Brian, Tyler, Richard, Carol, Rachel and Kathy. Kathy and Tyler are married.’
Choi nodded as he jotted down every name Mary mentioned. Neither he nor Kendall seemed to care that she was still insisting on using the name Quaddra instead of Thomas. ‘But this couple on the last picture,’ Choi asked. ‘You have no idea who they are?’
‘No.’
‘OK,’ Kendall collected all the photographs from the table before selecting a brand-new one from the envelope. Once again, this was an A4-sized, colored, portrait photograph. He placed it on the table, in front of Mary.
Her eyes moved to the photo and her heart skipped a beat. ‘What is happening here?’
‘Do you know this man?’ Kendall asked.
‘Yes,’ Mary said back, blinking and shaking her head as if she was waking up from an odd dream. ‘His name is Luke Jenkins. He’s a country singer/songwriter who I met in Nashville over two years ago. What is this?’
‘Luke Jenkins, you said?’ Choi asked, writing down the name.
‘Yes.’ Mary looked back at the detectives. ‘But what does he have to do with any of this?’
Kendall didn’t reply. Instead, he reached inside the envelope for a new portrait photograph – also in color… also A4 in size – before placing it on the table.
Mary looked down at the photo and frowned.
This time, she was looking at a photo of a blonde woman, whose wavy hair just touched her shoulders.
Her eyes were blue, but not as blue as Mary’s, and they seemed kind and intelligent.
Mary was sure that she’d seen her before.
She just couldn’t remember where, or when.
‘Does she look familiar?’ Choi asked, reading Mary’s reaction.
‘Umm…’ Mary shrugged, still searching her memory. ‘She does… a little… yes, but I can’t…’ All of a sudden, it came back to her. ‘Oh my god.’ She pointed at the photo. ‘Yes. I met her in New Orleans.’ She took a pause to properly remember. ‘I think it was about two months or so after I met Luke.’
‘Do you remember where in New Orleans you met her?’ Kendall asked.
‘Yes, I met her in a bar called Lafitte’s Blacksmith Shop.’
‘Lafitte’s Blacksmith Shop,’ Choi repeated it, as he wrote the name down.
‘Yes, this woman…’ She tapped the photo with her index finger.
‘Was also there… by herself. Her name is…’ Mary closed her eyes and searched her memory once again.
It took her a few seconds. ‘Natálie.’ She snapped her fingers and pointed at the photo again.
‘Yes, her name is Natálie. She was visiting from London. We shared a table in the bar and had a few drinks together.’ Mary paused and lifted a hand at the detectives.
‘Why? What do she and Luke have to do with any of this? And how did you get these photos?’
‘From the basement that you told us to go look.’ The reply came from Choi. ‘These photos were on the wall to the right of the one with all the Polaroids, but apparently, you never saw them.’
‘Because they weren’t there,’ Mary shot back. ‘They weren’t there last night.’
‘So how come they were there when we got back to the house to check the secret basement, like you told us to, just a couple of hours after we arrested you?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘You said that you and Mr. Cameron… or Quaddra… were the only two people in the house, right?’ Choi pushed.
‘Yes.’
‘So how did these photos come to be on that wall, all neatly spread out into a coherent storyboard and timeline?’
‘A what?’ A pit opened up at the bottom of Mary’s stomach. ‘A storyboard and timeline?’
‘Just like the ones you see in films,’ Kendall confirmed, gesturing as he explained. ‘With colored strings linking photos together and all.’
How’s that even possible? the voice inside Mary’s head asked. Why would Quaddra have these photos?
Kendal clearly wasn’t done yet, as he, once again, reached inside the envelope for a new photograph.
Mary chuckled nervously, as he placed the picture on the table.
This time she didn’t need to search her memory for who the person in that photograph was.
She was looking at Betsy – Betsy Fletcher – the waitress that she’d met at the Jolt N Bolt bakery in the Dogpatch.
The same Betsy who had invited her to the exhibition where she met Quaddra for the first time.
‘From your reaction,’ Choi said, resting his elbows on the table. ‘I take it you know her.’
‘Yes, I know her,’ Mary confirmed. ‘Her name is Betsy Fletcher. She’s an artist.’
‘From San Francisco?’ Kendall asked.
‘She used to live here, yes,’ Mary replied.
‘But she’s moved to LA.’ She sat back on her chair and once again, raised her hands at Kendall and Choi.
‘Look, I’m seriously very confused here.
You first show me all the Polaroids I found down in that basement before telling me that all of those women aren’t dead…
they are, in fact, actresses auditioning for a role.
Now you’re showing me all these photos from completely random people, who I’ve met sometime in the past two years, telling me that these photos were also down in that basement, arranged in some kind of storyboard. I don’t know what’s going on here.’
‘Don’t you?’ Choi challenged.
‘No. I don’t.’ Fear was starting to take hold of Mary’s tone as well.
‘After we left the house,’ Kendall took over again, ‘we had to drop by the hospital to have a chat with Mr. Cameron – the man you stabbed.’
This time, Mary didn’t try to correct him.
‘There was a lot that needed clearing up,’ Kendall continued. ‘The Polaroids… the storyboard… that basement… nothing was really making a lot of sense.’
‘That’s exactly what I’m saying,’ Mary agreed, wondering if either of the detectives had listened to anything she’d said.
‘Oh, but it will,’ Kendall told her. ‘And here’s where this story jumps from the crazy to the absolutely fucking insane.’