Eclipse (32 page)

Sam asked the ER manager to tell Chauvin that he'd need his statement regarding last night's events, and to request that he sit tight, not leave the hospital until he returned.

‘He won't be coming back to the ER, Detective,' the manager pointed out. ‘Try the hospital operator later.'

He and Martinez went to Markie's for some breakfast, gave their order and sat in silence until the food came and they dived in.

‘OK,' Martinez said after a while. ‘I needed some energy so I can give you hell for walking into that
alone
last night, man.'

‘I called you,' Sam said. ‘Twice. And I called Duval.'

‘You had a bad feeling, and you still went in alone. We don't do that.'

‘I know,' Sam said. ‘I'm sorry.'

They ate for a few more minutes.

‘So what's your plan for the French dope?'

‘Make sure Broward have seen him, then get him on a flight home.' Sam dipped bacon into yolk. ‘Want to come along? Help make sure he gets the message?'

‘Try stopping me,' Martinez said.

Toni had been given breakfast, which she had not touched.

Joe Duval kicked off with another Miranda, and she waived again.

The stories for the next three killings were horrifically similar. All three had begun one Saturday in February at a beauty therapies show in a downtown Miami hotel, where Toni had been earning some extra cash helping one of her dressmaking clients on her stand, and Kate had come too.

It was the day Kate had first seen Karen Weber, Lindy Braun and Amelia Newton and had become obsessed by them. All three had been given the PN301 sales pitch to suit their problems. All three had bought it.

The rest was history.

Sick, carefully planned, organized and ruthless.

Toni claimed that Kate had been unstoppable, that she had threatened her with what she had done to Arlene Silver, that it had not just been that threat which had made her comply, but the fear of what might become of Kate if she went to Death Row.

Abhorrence rippled through the room.

‘I know I'm worse than she was,' she said. ‘I do know that.'

No one disagreed.

Sam asked about the delay between Lindy Braun and Amelia Newton.

‘Kate got sick after Naples, and I hoped it would be the last.'

‘Sure you did,' O'Dea said.

‘We told Amelia there'd been a delay with the product, but we didn't want to let her down,' Toni said. ‘She was very grateful. They all were.'

The Delgado killing had come about differently.

With the argument between mother and daughter in the doctor's waiting room, overheard by the Petit sisters. Because listening to the hysteria over their eyes, Kate had become enraged, because they were so lucky, they
had
their eyes, but they did not deserve to see.

‘She was worse than I'd ever known her,' Toni said. ‘Wilder. She didn't want to wait, and though she despised them both, she knew the mother had to be the one responsible, the one to punish.'

They had followed them, kept watch into the next day, had seen Beatriz and Felicia go out that morning, the teen angry and upset again. And early the following day, they had seen Felicia storm out.

And had gone to the door.

Beatriz Delgado had answered.

Toni had apologized for the intrusion, explained that they had been in the doctor's office two days earlier, that it had been impossible not to overhear their argument, and that though they would understand if she didn't want to speak to two strangers, they really believed they might be able to help her.

‘Even if she'd refused, Kate was so tightly wound, I thought she might force her way in. But it didn't come to that.'

Beatriz had invited them in, saying that she could not talk for long because she had an upset stomach. Toni had told her that by happy coincidence, she had an amazing herb tea in her purse that had recently settled her own stomach so well that she'd taken to carrying some, in case of need.

‘Along with a Colt pistol,' Gutierrez said.

Beatriz had drunk the tea.

‘And from there on, it was the same as with the others,' Toni said.

‘And afterward, did you see Felicia Delgado outside?' Sam asked. ‘And knowing that she was about to find her mother's mutilated body, did you raise your finger to your lips and then to your eyes as a threat?'

‘I wanted to warn her,' Toni said. ‘But I didn't tell Kate, because she'd already gotten in the SUV and hadn't noticed her. Because otherwise she might have wanted the daughter dead too, and I couldn't have done that.'

‘You have some boundaries then, do you?' O'Dea said.

‘I think it was a line I could not easily have crossed,' Toni said.

Zoë Fox had died because the sisters had been looking at new sunglasses at Shade City, and Ms Fox had told them that she remembered selling them a pair of ultra-large dark glasses earlier that month.

And if it had been in Miami Beach's jurisdiction, and if Sam had been one of those checking through the CCTV footage, he would have recognized Toni.

Still too late to have helped Zoë Fox.

‘Kate felt she might be a danger to us,' Toni said. ‘Because we'd used those sunglasses to cover Amelia Newton's eyes.'

‘Kate felt that,' Sam said. ‘Nothing to do with you.'

Her gaze was steady. ‘I guess we both thought it.'

‘So no uncontrollable
urge
about Zoë Fox,' Gutierrez said.

‘I'd say we were both nervous of her.'

‘Piece of work,' Martinez muttered, and received no warning glance from Duval, because if Petit stopped now and asked for a lawyer, they had enough to put her on Death Row five times over.

They'd had to use a different tactic with Zoë Fox, because she was young and beautiful. But she had a KISS tattoo on her shoulder, and Toni had asked if having the tattoo had hurt. Zoë had said she hated it now, wished she'd never had it done, and Kate said that oddly enough, that was Toni's specialty: tattoo removal with zero discomfort and no drugs.

‘She said “Wow”, and that she'd love to lose it. I said that it was clearly inappropriate to discuss it in her place of work, but if she wished, we could visit her at home.'

‘And she agreed?' Sam said.

‘She did,' Toni said.

Martinez and O'Dea shook their heads, everyone perturbed as hell by all the misplaced trust still out there.

The next day, Monday, May 16, had been Zoë Fox's day off.

By noon, she was already dead.

Toni said that Kate had wanted Billie Smith dead, but she had refused.

‘But you had a doll resembling her all ready and waiting,' Sam said.

‘Still,' Toni said, ‘it felt different, because I knew her. And because I knew, right after I'd panicked and we'd taken her, that it was over. That if we didn't shoot Billie, it would be over because she would tell, and that if we did kill her, it would be just one wicked thing too many.'

She paused, seeming sunk deep in her thoughts.

And then she said: ‘It felt to me, for a long time, as if we were both suffering from a terminal illness. At least Kate's out of it now.' She shrugged. ‘Me too, I guess, one way or another.'

At two-fifteen, when Sam and Martinez – both functioning on caffeine and junk food – arrived at Hallandale General, they found Chauvin sitting dressed on his bed, arm bandaged and in a sling.

He looked sorry for himself, but glad to see Sam – even if he was traveling with his grouchy partner.

The gladness did not last long.

Broward had seen him, which was good news for Sam.

‘I've taken care of your plane reservation,' he told Chauvin. ‘I assumed you had a return ticket.'

‘Where am I supposed to be returning to?' the Frenchman asked.

‘Strasbourg is home, right?' Martinez said.

‘Sure,' Chauvin said.

‘Then that's where you're going.'

‘But I'm not ready to leave yet.'

‘I think you'll find that you are,' Sam said.

Chauvin's forehead creased, and he took off his glasses. ‘I knew you were upset when I followed you last night, and then, even when the crazy woman was going to shoot you, and I—'

‘We're wasting time,' Sam said. ‘Your flight leaves Miami International at five-fifty, so we need to get you there for check-in.'

‘That's not my flight.' Chauvin put his glasses back on.

‘It is now,' Sam said. ‘One-stop via Charles de Gaulle, Paris. We'll get you back to Surfside, and I'm even going to help you pack, and then Detective Martinez and I are going to take you to MIA.'

‘Your very own chauffeurs,' Martinez said.

‘That's all very kind,' Chauvin said. ‘But what if I don't want to go yet?'

Sam looked at Martinez, nodded, and they sat down on either side of the Frenchman, closer than was comfortable for them, more so for him.

‘Let's say we forget last night for now,' Sam said.

‘Last night, when I saved your life,' Chauvin said.

‘That's a moot point,' Martinez said.

‘I'd rather backtrack,' Sam said, ‘to when you were harassing my daughter.'

‘Catherine,' Chauvin said, and smiled.

‘Hey,' Martinez said. ‘Don't be a smart ass.'

‘What?' Chauvin said. ‘Now I'm not allowed to smile?'

‘And to two hours or so before that,' Sam went on, ‘when you were doing much the same at my house, with my wife.'

‘I brought her roses,' the Frenchman said. ‘To thank her for dinner. And then I took a few pictures. Grace didn't mind.'

‘Grace minded very much,' Sam said. ‘But not nearly as much as I do.'

‘About as much as the other blondes minded in France,' Martinez said.

Chauvin's cheeks grew red. ‘I was innocent.'

‘Sure you were,' Sam said.

‘You were picked up in Monaco,' Martinez said. ‘For loitering near the palace.'

‘I was walking around, like any other tourist,' Chauvin said.

‘Any other tourist obsessed with the late princess,' Sam said. ‘They revoked your work permit, I believe.'

‘I changed my mind about working there,' Chauvin said.

‘Sure you did,' Martinez said.

‘Makes your uninvited little photo shoots with my wife and daughter as unwilling subjects more than a little questionable, wouldn't you say?' Sam said.

‘Not to me.'

‘I'd call you a weirdo,' Martinez said, ‘only that might be offensive.'

‘I'd call you a stalker,' Sam said, ‘following my wife in Switzerland and then all the way to Florida.'

‘I don't see—'

‘What I see,' Sam cut him off, ‘is you going home today.'

‘But the Broward detectives said I might have to come back as a witness in a trial,' Chauvin said.

‘And if that happens,' Sam said, ‘I'm sure you'll cooperate like the good solid citizen you are, but in the meantime, you're going home, today.'

‘And that way,' Martinez said, ‘you'll be real lucky and stick to standing in the witness box instead of sitting next to your defense attorney.'

‘Accused of what?' Chauvin's cheeks were aflame.

‘Section 784.048 on stalking.' Sam took a piece of paper from his inside pocket and read. ‘“Harass” means to engage in a course of conduct directed at a specific person that causes substantial emotional distress in such person and serves no legitimate purpose.' He looked into the other man's eyes. ‘Any person who willfully, maliciously, and repeatedly follows or harasses another person commits the offense of stalking, a misdemeanor of the first degree, punishable as provided in section 775.082 or . . . Do you want me to go on?'

‘No,' Chauvin said.

‘I have a little section I like a lot.' Martinez took out his own piece of paper. ‘Any law enforcement officer may arrest, without a warrant, any person he or she has probable cause to believe has violated the provisions of this section.'

Chauvin shook his head. ‘You're treating me like a criminal, deporting me.'

‘If that's what you want to wait for,' Sam said.

Another headshake, followed by a defeated shrug, and Chauvin stood up, wincing. ‘I need medication before I leave.'

‘Already taken care of,' Sam said. ‘Waiting for us at the pharmacy.'

‘Don't I need a wheelchair?' Chauvin asked.

‘Sure,' Sam said. ‘Hospital rules.'

‘We don't want to break those.' Martinez was up. ‘I'll go get one.'

Chauvin looked at Sam, still sitting on the side of the bed. ‘I have to say, I'm feeling very hurt and misunderstood.'

‘Uh-huh,' Sam said.

Dr George Wiley had bonded out on ROR and was now shopping.

Never one of life's natural shoppers – most of his cherished books and instruments purchased in auction houses or by mail – he was surprised by the piquancy of this rather mundane expedition.

Though it was special.

Because it was the last time he would shop.

Buying things he'd need this coming evening and night. Not the kind of items that a doctor generally kept in supply.

Food and wine too.

For his Last Supper.

His perfect dinner. The kind of food he imagined a man like Ethan Adams had served to him at a nod of his silver head.

Calves liver with fresh sprigs of sage. Yukon Gold potatoes for mashing. Fresh asparagus. A fine half bottle of Pinot Noir.

He thought while he shopped and, finally, slowly, drove home, about his past.

About the small group of people who had pushed him to this final descent.

Who would, if he let them, take from him the only thing that had ever truly mattered to him.

Being the finest doctor he was capable of being. And he'd always known it would take time, but he had been getting there, would have succeeded but for
them
.