Fatal Vision (18 page)

"And, ah, I had to get down on my hands and knees and breathe for a while and I went in and checked the kids and checked their pulses and stuff. And, ah—ah, I don't know if it was the first time I checked them or the second time, to tell you the truth, but I had all—you know, blood on my hands and I had little cuts in here and in here [pointing to his midsection], and my head hurt, so when I reached up to feel my head, you know, my hand was bloody, and so I—I think it was the second circuit 'cause by that time I was—I was thinking better, I thought. And I went into that, ah—I went into the bathroom right there and looked in the mirror and didn't—nothing looked wrong. I mean there wasn't really even a cut or anything.

"So, I ah, then I went out in the hall and I couldn't breathe, so I was on my hands and knees in the hall and I—it kept hitting me that really nothing had been solved when I called the operator.

"And so I went in and—this was in the—you know, in the middle of the hallway there, and I went the other way, I went into the kitchen, picked up that phone and the operator was on the line. My other phone had never been hung up.

"And she was still on the line and she said, 'Is this Captain MacDonald?' I said, 'Yes, it is.' And she said, 'Just a minute.' And there was some dial tones and stuff and then this sergeant came on and he said, 'Can I help you?' So I told him that I needed a doctor and an ambulance and that some people had been stabbed and that I thought I was going to die.

"And he said, 'They'll be right there,' so I left the phone and I remember, ah, going back to look again, and the next thing I knew, ah, an MP was giving me mouth-to-mouth resuscitation next to, ah—next to my wife.

"Now I remember I saw—I don't know if it was the first or second trip into the bedroom to see my wife, but, ah, I saw that the back door was open, but that's ah, that's immaterial, I guess."

MacDonald stopped. Grebner and Ivory and Shaw remained silent. On the radio, Nat "King" Cole was singing "Ramblin' Rose."

"When you woke up," Grebner said after more than thirty seconds of silence, "there were three men there?"

"The first time? You mean when I was on the couch?" "Yes."

"Right. Well, I—yeah. Now, I—sir, you know, let me say one thing now." There seemed a new edge of anxiety in MacDonald's voice. "You know, when you say something it sounds cut and dried, but this thing happened—I'm sure it didn't take more than eight or ten seconds, when I think back about it.

"You know, I mean I've been in fights before and, Christ, you think it's an eternity, and, ah, when it's over it's less than a minute. But I'm sure this was a matter of seconds, and, ah, I'd just woken up and it was dark, and—I think it was three men, right, because I remember specifically struggling with three people in front of me and seeing a fourth—seeing the girl. And, really, all I saw of her was some long, stringy blond hair and—and a big hat."

"You say this man with the sergeant stripes on came toward you. Where did he strike you first? In the head?"

"Right, right. I mean I was just sitting—I was just sitting in bed
[sic],
I was just getting ready to say something like, 'What the hell are you—what's going on here?' when I could hear screaming, and really, it isn't a matter of like running at me or anything, 'cause it was only a step. The point is, he was closer than the others and I remember thinking that he was raising something and they—I really didn't even defend myself. I mean it was really too—too fast. I just sort of sat up and as I looked and saw these people he was doing this at, really—at the same time. And he hit me.

"And, ah—I mean they weren't shouting or anything. There wasn't any, ah—I mean she wasn't jumping up and down and screaming, ah, you know, 'Kill him!' The point was, it all seemed—you know, when you see it like in
Easy Rider.
I made the mistake of going to see that film. They have all these stop-action things. Well, that's what it seemed like. All I really see is these real fast glimpses of what happened."

"Captain MacDonald," Shaw said, speaking in a voice so flat and dry that he might have been an airline pilot addressing a cabin filled with passengers, "you told one of the other investigators earlier that you were wearing a pajama top that was pulled over your head or something like that."

"Right, well, all I know is that, ah—well, when I was struggling now—after I had been hit the first time and I was struggling with these guys and my—somehow my pajama top—I don't know if it was ripped forward or pulled over my head. I don't think it was pulled over my head. I don't remember actually, like, backing my head through it.

"But all of a sudden it was all around my hands and it was in my way and I remember that I was holding this thing in my hands—the guy's hand—that—that I couldn't maneuver very well. My hands were kind of wrapped up in the—in the thing.

"And as they were punching me I was kind of using that a little bit, you know, holding it, 'cause this guy, I thought, was really punching me in the chest, you know, and in the stomach, 'cause I—I was getting hit across here [pointing again to the midsection of his body].

"So, in effect, I was blunting everything by, you know, holding this up. And I couldn't get my hands free—out of this thing. And I remember I ended up, when I was laying on the floor—I forgot to say that—when I woke up on—it was still all around my hands and everything, and I took it off as I was going in the bedroom. And after I took this knife out of my wife's chest, I—you know, ah, keeping her warm. You know, to treat shock, elevate the legs and keep them warm."

"Was Colette alive then?" Shaw asked.

"I—I don't think so, sir, because, ah, medically, I don't think she could have been, because when I gave her mouth-to-mouth I remember distinctly the bubbles were coming out of her chest. She was just lying there, very still, and made no response at all. I didn't take her pulse initially. All I did was see her and"—he cleared his throat—"take the knife out of her chest, and—and breathe into her mouth, really. So I don't know, but I assume not. She just—you know, I've seen a lot of dead people."

"Did you try to move her anyplace?"

"Geez, I don't know, sir. I don't think so. I mean maybe— there's a green chair there. Maybe she was leaning against it. I don't remember specifically, no, but, you know, if she was lying a little crooked, in my compulsive manner I might have straightened her out a little bit, or something. But I honestly don't remember that. I can't—I can't say yes to that. I don't remember moving her. I don't think I moved her body at all."

Then Ivory asked, "What part of the hallway were you laying in?"

"Originally?"

"Yeah."

"Ah, down near the end. Down near the couch end." "Where did the struggle actually take place?" Grebner asked. "Right—right at the end—right at the, ah, foot of the couch." "Right at the foot of the couch?"

"This wasn't a big deal, you know. I wasn't James Bond, like—like all my readings. It didn't work out the way it's supposed to work out, ah—come charging through. It was just kind of a scene around me that I was grabbing things and holding on, basically. And I remember that at one time when I let go of the—this club that, ah—you know, I tried to hit a couple people and I think I hit the guy with the club once, but, ah, nothing very spectacular, let me tell you."

As the morning wore on, the three CID men, with Shaw doing most of the questioning, led MacDonald through his story again; step by step.

At Womack Hospital, MacDonald said (though this was not supported by his medical records), it had been discovered that he had "a whole bunch of little puncture marks across my abdomen. I guess we ended up with fourteen of them, or something like that."

'These injuries," Shaw said, in his dry, sterile voice, "were these from these assailants? These people that were in your house?"

"Well, I assume so," MacDonald said. Then, with no change of tone, Shaw let the cat spring from the bag, claws exposed: "You didn't do it yourself, did you?" "No."

Almost without pause, though with an even higher pitch of nervousness in his voice, MacDonald continued with a long, rambling explanation of how he'd had to persuade the doctors at the hospital that his lung really was punctured and that the insertion of a chest tube would be required. For almost five minutes he talked nonstop, as if by piling enough other words on top of it, he could smother Shaw's almost gentle but exceedingly ominous query.

By the time MacDonald had finished, Shaw had decided to simply let his skepticism lie in the room for a while, smoldering, as he explored other avenues.

"What were you doing before Colette went to bed?" he asked. "What transpired in the house that evening? She went to school?"

"Right. The kids and I were lying on the living room floor Avatching TV and when they went to bed I just read for a while. Nothing—I think I was reading one of my mysteries, a Mike Hammer mystery." The book had been not the poetry or philosophy of which MacDonald's sister had said he was so fond, but
Kiss Me Deadly,
by Mickey Spillane.

"What time did Colette come home?"

"It was a little late. Usually she'd come home about ten after nine. I think it was about twenty-five to ten, or something. I don't know. She had to drop off a—one of the girls in the class or something. I'm not—"

"Were the girls still up?"

"No, I think they'd just gone to bed. It's late, I know, but Kimmy—Kimmy stayed up late sometimes with me."

"So what happened? What transpired on this evening?"

"Nothing spectacular. I mean, she came home and probably had a—usually my wife would have a—a little brandy or—or one—one liqueur or something while we sat there. You know, it was our time of the day, sort of, and we just usually sat there and watched TV or read or something in the living room together. That's all I remember. I mean, I don't—nothing spectacular happened."

"Did you have a drink that night?"

"I don't remember, honestly. I don't—I usually didn't by myself. I might have had a liqueur with her but I don't remember."

"Do you know what time this happened? This is what I want, to build events here if I can. Now, she came home at twenty-five to ten?"

"Right. Roughly then."

"And the kids were in bed?"

"Right. I remember she came home a little late because she had missed half of—half of the show that's—the show that's on at 9 o'clock. It isn't Tom Jones. It's some show that's on Monday night at 9 o'clock."

"Glen Campbell?"

"We either watch Glen Campbell or Tom Jones or Johnny Cash. Those three shows during the week, so one of those three, whichever is on Monday night. I remember telling her she had missed the best part of it, and she said she had to drop someone off or so
mething, 'I stopped at the 7-11
or something, and that was it. We didn't do anything unusual."

"Did you watch any of the late shows?"

"Ah, probably not. I think just up to the news. I turned it off. I usually don't watch TV except the sports or those three shows I was telling you."

"Well, try to think. Try to think about this. Did you watch the Johnny—''

"Oh, yeah. I was watching Johnny Carson." "Johnny Carson?" "That's right." "Did you watch it?"

"Yeah, I was watching Johnny Carson. That's right." "Was Colette there with you?"

"No. She started with me. That's—that's right. She started it with me and she went to bed. She didn't finish. I finished watching the Johnny Carson show and then—she was already in bed by the time it was over. She just watched the beginning/'

"Any particular reason why she didn't stay there with you?"

"She was pregnant and she—she's getting more sleepy—more sleep when she's pregnant."

"Okay, well, she went to bed. What time did she go to bed?"

"Well, probably 11:30—no, 12 o'clock, 'cause I remember she started watching Johnny—now that you mention it—the Johnny Carson show with me."

"Now, had she changed clothes prior to going to bed?"

"Yeah. She always comes out and sits around with me in—in her pajamas. I mean, I say, 'yeah.' I—you know, this is just 'cause she did it every night. I don't remember her walking in and changing clothes, 'cause I was sitting there reading. Like all husbands do—they forget to notice a lot of things, but she always came out and sat down in her pajamas and had—usually had a liqueur and then go to bed. That was her routine."

"So she was in bed by midnight. Did you finish watching the Johnny Carson show?"

"Right."

"And then what did you do?" "I read my Mike Hammer mystery." "What else did you do?" "Nothing."