Kirby brought Joe back about nine the next morning. He looked a little tired, but none the worse for wear. He went back to his room; I went to talk to him, but he was already asleep. Kirby's wife came about an hour later; she was an older black woman named Marie, she was very nice lady. She even made us some sandwiches, but nobody was really hungry. Kirby came back at four to check in on Joe.
Lacroix showed up at five. He had this determined look on his face. Tom, Joey and I were in the kitchen cleaning and doing the dishes. Brad was straightening up the dining room; he followed Lacroix in.
"I have to interrupt you, I need to take your statement, Mr. Tyler. May we please speak in private?" I nodded and followed him into the living room and sat down in a leather wingback. "What time did you go to the Bistro, Mr. Tyler?"
"We got there about seven; Candice met us there." I answered.
"How was the general mood? Happy, sad, anxious, business-like?"
"We were having a good time."
"Even Mr. Perry?"
I hesitated. "Well, Joe wasn't really at his best."
"Dr. Kirby says that he's under some stress. Caused by what?"
"I really don't see what that has to do with this." I knew. Stress can do some pretty freaky things to a person.
"Is Mr. Perry using any drugs or drinking excessively?"
"No! Of course not! Everybody knows that we're clean."
"I have heard from some of my officers that you are fairly well know musicians; forgive me, my tastes run more to Mozart. Has he been arguing or combative?"
I just stared at him. I couldn't tell him that he was chewing everybody a new asshole every thirty seconds. "I thought in this country you were innocent until proven guilty!"
"Yes, you are right. I need to know the events of the night in question; I have to know the nuances. Such as: Why did Mr. Perry have an anxiety attack? Something had to have triggered it."
"Look, he doesn't want anybody to know." I met Lacroix stare. "Joe and his wife, Billie are having some troubles." It was hard to believe, Joe and Billie had one of the strongest marriages around. Or so we all thought.
"When did Mr. Perry tell you about this?"
"At the Bistro. Joe got up to go to the restroom; he was upset and I followed him. He told me that they had gotten into a fight, and she threatened to leave. Then he had an attack, not as bad as yesterday's but I was scared."
"Do you know what did Mr. Perry and his wife fought about?"
"Joe admitted an affair, she didn't take it too well. Hey, I don't think Joe wants this all over the newspapers-"
"This is strictly confidential. It is for this investigation; however, it may come up in court or it may not. What did he think of Miss Lamoureax?"
"He said she was nice, pretty girl."
"Did he say if he want to have sex with her?"
I stood; I was beginning to loose my patience. "No! He didn't! In fact it was just the opposite! She was flirting with him from the minute we got here. I didn't really see him egging her on! She made some moves on him at the Bistro; that's why he got up and went to the john!"
"Wasn't she his type?"
"Joe's is trying to keep his nose clean, for his family's sake!" I exclaimed.
Lacroix was deep in thought, "Mr. Perry was drugged, she used a rather fast acting tranquilizer. We found traces in a cup in the cottage. There is another point of interest, I was speaking with the pilot of your plane; he said that a woman called him, she was missing a book. The pilot told her that he thought he saw one of you with a book. If there is such a book, where is it? I would like to see it."
"Joe took it by accident, but he said that Candice took it." I answered.
"When did she take this book from Mr. Perry?"
"The first day; when she came to his room. I think it really got to him. She just came in and wanted to put his clothes away."
"Did she offer that service to you?"
"Not me. I don't think she did with any of us."
"Do you know what the book was about?"
I hated to say it. "Murderers."
Lacroix gave a nod, and wrote on his notepad. "Thank you, Mr. Tyler. If you think of anything else, please call. Good day."
I watched him walk down to the cottage and go inside.
"So you got the third degree too." Tom said.
He startled me. "Yeah, did he talk to you?"
"Oh yeah, he talked to all of us. He was really interested about what happened at the Bistro."
"Nothing really happened." I declared. "I mean Joe got sick, that's about all."
"Yeah, well he wanted to know about that guy that was talking to Candice. Lacroix wanted to know the conversation word for word."
"Oh?" They had told us, but by the time I got back there it was forgotten.
"Yeah, he was very interested in it. It didn't seem all that much to me."
I looked at the cottage again, and thought what the fuck kinda man is this Lacroix? "Man, I hope that we done right!"
It had been two days since Candice died. Kirby suggested that Joe get some fresh air; so he was sitting on the porch, watching the policemen walk every inch of the lawn. I wondered what the fuck they were looking for? They had been continually walking it since they arrived. I joined him; we made some small talk. I saw Lacroix keeping an eye on us, but he never came over.
We'd been sitting there for about twenty minutes, when a red Viper raced into the driveway. A man jumped out and quickly headed up the front steps of the house. He was about the same height as Tom, but he had a lot more muscle. "You bastard!" He pointed at Joe.
"Huh? Do I know you?" Joe was puzzled.
I was trying to remember that face. I'd seen him somewhere.
"Why did you kill her?" He grabbed Joe by his shoulders, and made him stand. "Why did you kill my Candi?" I tried to pull him off, but it was impossible.
Lacroix came to our rescue. "Leave that man alone!" He helped me pull this gorilla off of Joe. "What's the meaning of this?"
"Why isn't he in jail? I want to know why you haven't arrested him yet!"
I looked around, the guys had all come out of the house to see the commotion.
"We are investigating this, Mr. Howe. Things take time-"
"Bullshit! I know what's going on! He's famous, so he can get away with killing a woman! His money can buy his freedom! His record execs will cut him a deal; he won't spend one fucking day in prison!"
This Howe snarled at Joe again. "What; didn't she want an old man like you? She told me that she didn't like you hanging on her! An old man like you propositioning a young girl! She didn't want to be your whore! Is that's why she had to die? Is that why you raped her? Is that why you killed her? You fucking bastard!" He lunged at Joe, but he just stood there, I don't know why, but he didn't even try to defend himself. Lacroix stepped between them.
I stood in front of Joe; "Joe didn't do it!" I exclaimed.
"Oh, yeah, who else could have done it? That old man the gardener? Did you do it? Or one of them! Maybe that's how you get your dicks stiff-" His hands swung wildly at us. That son of a bitch! I stepped forward; ready to pounce on him, but Lacroix butted between us.
"That's enough, Howe." Lacroix stared him down. "You get back in your car and leave this estate."
He stood there, not moving.
"I mean it! Go! Or you will be arrested for disorderly conduct! And about fifteen other things I will add on to it!"
"Oh, yeah, that's a good one! Arrest me!" He hurried to his car, "Let this murderer run free, but arrest me for disorderly conduct!" He spun the car around and drove off.
"Thomas," Lacroix called out, a young officer quickly stepped forward. "Follow Mr. Howe, and make sure he goes home." Thomas nodded and quickly left.
Lacroix made his orders from the porch. "All right! No unauthorized persons are allowed on this property! Anyone attempts to do so; arrest them! Carry on!"
"Lacroix, that was the guy at the Bistro!" Brad exclaimed, "He's the one that was talking to Candice!"
"Sebastian Howe; he's sort of a shady character. I've been watching him for some time." Lacroix turned to Joe. "Are you hurt, Mr. Perry?" He seemed genuinely concerned.
Joe shook his head. "I'm going back to bed." He turned and went back inside. He walked hunched over; he did look like an old man.
"Christ, look at Joe!" I heard Tom exclaimed.
"Yeah," I managed. Joe was bracing himself on the staircase railing. It was taking everything in him to go up the stairs.
"I mean, God, he's barely moving-"
"Yeah, I got eyes, Tom."
It really got weird now. The confrontation had set me back; Howe's words cut through my psyche. I never thought of what everyone else would say. I knew that the guys would stand beside me; but this Howe found out about me. How long before it was on TV? How long before Billie knew? My Mom? My kids? The world?
Days melted together, Marie would come with my meals. Kirby came twice a day, he really didn't say all that much. I wondered where the rest of the guys were; was I wrong? Did they abandon me? I finally asked Marie, and she told me that they were under orders not to bother me. Kirby said I needed sleep. I would try, but I kept having horrible dreams. I decided that sleep wasn't an option anymore.
I sat on the bed, looking through the window; I would do this for hours at a time. Sometimes, I'd look out at the trees, and other times all I saw was the moon. I was trying to piece together that night, but mostly I focused on my possible future...
I'd be the white O.J. Simpson; the old white man that raped and killed a young black girl. I would be presumed guilty before I was ever innocent, and be guilty after I was proven innocent. I could hear them already: Oh, you know about all of those women they've had! I'm surprised that this is the first one! Probably more that were covered up; you know how fucked up he was! That's what they all would say. I would lose everything I cared about. Joe Perry: murderer/rapist/liar/guitarist. I'd be remembered in that order.
Could I stand to be the featured story on every news magazine in the country? The tabloids? Could I bear to see the look on my mother's face? Of course, she would stand behind me; a mother's love was the strongest love of all. Could I stand to watch my sons being drug down? Hearing their father being the butt of every joke on late night television.
Billie. It was over. Yup. I could kiss my marriage and my career goodbye.
I decided that I had to speak to Joe. It had been three days since Howe came and made his big scene. Marie had stopped me in the hallway: No one could see the patient. NOBODY. I retreated back downstairs; I was just coming down the staircase when Kirby walked through the front door.
"Dr. Kirby," I decided to try the nice touch. "Can I have a word with you?"
"Of course, Mr. Tyler."
"First of all, you can call me Steven."
"I'd rather not, Mr. Tyler. I am still an investigator, and I don't like getting too friendly with potential suspects."
I raised my eyebrows.
"I personally don't think that you or anyone else here had anything to do with this horrible thing," Kirby continued, "It's just my policy."
"Oh, yeah, sure. Well, I was wondering when I can talk to Joe."
Kirby frowned a bit. "Why do you want to talk to him?"
"He's my friend, and Joe, well he's gone through a lot lately. He tries to be a bad ass, but he's not. I just want to talk to him and make sure he's okay."
"He's not OK, Mr. Tyler. Mr. Perry's on the verge of a complete breakdown."
I couldn't believe it. I even asked him to repeat it. He said what I thought he said.
"It would help a lot if he'd follow my orders. He's not sleeping. So I prescribed sedatives; he refuses to take them. Half the time he's not eating."
"Let me talk to him, please, maybe I can get him to listen to reason."
"Or you could do more harm than good."
"Let Joey talk to him! Joey's walked down this path! He's been emotionally bankrupt-"
"I know that you and the others mean well, but he's in a very precarious position. He needs his rest." He started up the staircase. "Maybe tomorrow."
He told me 'maybe tomorrow' everyday.
I was sitting in my room, staring at the floor. I broke my promise to Joe: I felt I had to. I told Tom, Joey and Brad everything that happened in the men's room. They were just as shocked as I had been. I felt that they should know why Joe was having anxiety attacks. I wish Joe had said something. We were a family: families share problems.
Now I was becoming a nervous wreck. Every time the phone rang I jumped; Billie was always on the other end. The first time Billie called was the day Howe came to the house. So I made up the excuse that Joe was out touring the reef and couldn't come to the phone. Now she was calling twice day and I was running out of excuses. I had even used the excuse of him being sick-the closest thing to the truth. I was certain that she had forgiven Joe, but surely she was getting suspicious because he wouldn't speak to her. A tap on the opened door broke my thought.
"Mr. Tyler?"
"Yeah, Marie."
"Leonard's gonna get mad at me, but can you go in and talk to Joe?"
"Huh? But I thought-"
"I told Leonard that Joe needs to talk to somebody. Leonard's afraid that somebody will say something like Howe did, and drive him deeper into a hole, but that man needs a friend. He won't even eat." I saw tears well up in her eyes. "I had to help him today; I had to hold the spoon and make him eat. I don't know if doesn't have the strength, or if he's given up."
I went cold. Joe wasn't even capable of feeding himself! I followed Marie into Joe's room; I wanted to cry.
The room was dark; the only light was coming from the partially opened Venetian blinds. I saw Joe sitting on the edge of the bed; dressed in a light gray tee shirt and gray sweatpants. He hadn't shaved since all this happened. He was still bent over, like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders.
"See? What did I tell you?"
I saw Kirby's point: Joe looked like he was ready to crack, if he hadn't already done so. I saw Marie's point too: Joe needed me. "Thanks Marie." She left.
I walked in, and cleared my throat. Joe didn't look up. I knelt in front of Joe, but Joe just blindly stared through me. It was like he was in his own little world. I held onto his hands, he didn't respond. "Hey, Joe, man, come on. Why don't we go downstairs for a while? Do you wanna watch a movie or some cartoons? Maybe the Three Stooges are on." God, I hate the Three Stooges! But I'd watch it with him right now.
Joe blinked then he focused his eyes at me. "Steven." His voice was just a whisper.
I was glad he responded. "How do you feel? You look a lot better." I lied. Joe looked terrible; he had to have lost at least twenty pounds since the end of the tour. The bones jutted out of his face and shoulders. I grasped his forearm; his muscular arms were now sinewy.
"I haven't had another attack, but I'm not sleeping. Dr. Kirby gave me some sleeping pills, but I don't wanna take them."
"Well, maybe you should; sleep's important, Joe." I brushed a couple of stray hairs out of his eyes.
"I don't want to." He frowned, "I don't wanna get hooked on them." Joe raised his head a bit. "You know what I had to do?"
I shook my head because I couldn't speak; I rubbed my thumb over his knuckles.
"Kirby asked me to do a 'bite-test'. I had to bite down as hard as I could onto this fucking tube!" Joe sighed, "Then Lacroix came in, he talked to me, but he didn't really ask me anything important. Just shootin' the shit, I guess."
"You shouldn't have done it. I finally got a hold of Stan. He said not to talk to them until he gets here." Goddamned Kirby! Goddamned Lacroix! They were railroading him! I made a silent vow to look after Joe. If they wanted Joe Perry served up on a silver platter, they'd have to go through me first. They would have to go through all of us first!
"Steven, I didn't hurt her." He frowned and looked out the window. "At least, I don't think I did." Now I frowned, and sat down beside him. Joe had been so sure of himself before, denying it all to his last breath. "I don't understand."
"Maybe I did all those things to her." He looked at me; God his eyes looked so sad. "I keep having this dream, I'm in her cottage, and she tells me that she's gonna tell Billie that she loves me; that I slept with her. I pin her to the wall and tell her to keep her mouth shut about it. I punch her, and she starts crying. That's why I don't want to go to sleep. I don't want to remember anymore about it."
"It was just a dream."
"What if it wasn't? I thought I just pushed her away. What if I did kill her? Maybe I did it. Maybe I didn't. Steven, I just don't know anymore."
"Joe, there's no fuckin' way you did this!"
Joe was quiet; he looked at me. I could tell he wanted to say something, but he just couldn't bring himself to say it. I put my arm around him. "Joe, don't be afraid, you can tell me anything." I thought I was prepared ...
"Steven," He said softly. "I think I should quit Aerosmith."
What a slap in the face! I was numb. "What? Why?" That's all I could manage.
"I'll be a liability to the band. I've thought it over and I think I should just quit now, and save you the trouble of firing me later."
"No. Joe, we won't accept it. We lost you once, and I'll be goddamned if we lose you again! You with us forever!"
"Are you sure, Steven? I understand if you want me gone-"
"Yes I'm sure. Hey Joe, we know that you didn't do it. You couldn't do it. We are standing by you: You're our brother."
"I'm glad I have you guys; you are my brothers-" His voice broke; his hands were shaking. I tightened my arm around him. I was worried that he was gonna pass out again.
After a few minutes, he began to calm down. I wasn't sure if I should tell him or not, but I decided to go with my gut feeling. "Joe, Billie called. She wanted to talk to you."
"What? Billie?" He looked a bit panicked stricken. "What did she say?"
"I'm supposed to tell you to call her at Deb's, and that she loves you and she misses you."
Joe looked a bit relived. "Did she know about Candice?"
I shook my head; I decided to change the subject before Joe could dwell on it. "Hey, I could really go for a cigar! How 'bout you?"
"Yeah, I could." Joe nodded.
I had to put Joe's robe on him, and I helped him to his feet. We walked downstairs and stood on the porch, smoking away. Tom, Brad and Joey came out-each of them were startled to see Joe's frazzled appearance. It was like a band meeting, only no yelling or screaming or fighting. I guess it wasn't like a band meeting at all.
We did make a few resolutions. It was now out in the open: I admitted that I had told them about Billie's threat. I said I was sorry. Joe accepted it. We all told Joe that we would stand behind him no matter what happened. I think he was glad to have our support. Joe finally said he was tired, so we all went back inside. I was beginning to take Joe upstairs when there was a knock on the door.
Marie answered it. "Good afternoon, Captain Lacroix."
Lacroix entered, he stopped, "Gentlemen, I would like to speak with all of you."
Joe and I followed Lacroix into the living room and sat on the couch. Brad, Tom, and Joey followed; they sat in armchairs. Kirby came into the room, "Ah Lacroix, you got my report."
"Yes, I did; it's been gone over several times. Thank you."
The gardener entered, Mr. Baxter. He was a little old man, bent over from years of hard work. I hadn't seen much of him since the day he found Candice dead. He sat down next to me. Sebastian Howe entered; I flinched. He sat down across from Tom; Tom in return gave him an icy stare.
"Mr. Howe, how good of you to join us!" Lacroix exclaimed as if Howe was a long lost friend.
Howe was as pleasant as ever. "First you search my home, my car, and now this! Your policemen said I had to come, or I wouldn't be here." Two policemen stood guard at the door.
"Are you feeling better, Mr. Howe?" Lacroix smiled sweetly at him.
"Are you insane? You dragged me down here to ask me that?"
"I heard that you ended up going to the emergency room. Dr. Kirby said that you got into a little accident."
"It was nothing, just got into it with a dog."
"Smart dog," I muttered under my breath. Baxter uttered a nervous giggle.
"Yes, well I'm glad to hear that it wasn't life threatening." Lacroix turned, and spoke to all of us. "I wanted you here; you have been very patient with my men, and I am grateful for your help. I know that you have been in the dark, but its time to shed light onto this matter.
"We had a very bad incident happen, you all know that. We also narrowed the suspects down, to three possible men. Mr. Sebastian Howe, a friend of Miss Lamoureax, Mr. Joe Perry, a guest, and Mr. Clive Baxter, the gardener. How we came to these three is very simple: The time frame of the murder. You three had no true alibi. No one can verify your whereabouts."
"Well, I saw him when I let Mittens back in," Baxter motioned to Joe, "He was going into her cottage."
"Yes, you did, Mr. Baxter, but no one saw you. You see it's your word against his." Lacroix then turned back to the rest of us. "Mr. Baxter you are also a suspect because you found the body. 90% of the time the one who finds the victim is also the murderer. Mr. Perry, you have been having difficulties with Miss Lamoureax. And Mr. Howe, she called off your wedding."
"I would never hurt Candice! I knew her when she was a baby!" Baxter exclaimed.
"Please, Mr. Baxter. I have the results of the autopsy of Candice Lamoureax. The murdered was most likely a left-handed male, between five foot eight and six two, strong powerful build. Any of you left-handed?"
There was silence. I swallowed hard. I couldn't speak; I looked at Joe. Joe stared straight ahead. He didn't react at all. I didn't know if he even understood. I knew if he started talking like he'd done upstairs, I was gonna stop him. I'd make him take the fifth.
"OK, I see. Left or right, Mr. Baxter?"
"Right."
"Mr. Howe?"
"Right."
Lacroix gave a nod. He then looked at Joe.
"Well, Joe's sort of ambidextrous-" Tom began
.
"Oh, come now, Mr. Hamilton!" Lacroix said in disgust. "Mr. Perry?" Lacroix stood in front of Joe.
"I'm left-handed." Joe's voice was soft. I guess Joe did understand.
"Jesus Christ!" Howe exclaimed.
I got up; I had to. I was full of nervous energy. "But Joe would never-" I was shouting; my voice echoed down the hallway.
Lacroix's eyes bore into mine. "Sit down." I obeyed. "Mr. Tyler, I don't know Mr. Perry. And I want to let you know that I never assume anything. Logic disproves the assumptions; there is no sense in wasting valuable time bogged down in assumptions.
"You right-handed gentlemen are simply no longer the main suspects. I know that it is doubtful that one of you is the killer of Candice Lamoureax. Mr. Baxter is also eliminated on the grounds that he doesn't have a motive, height or the bodily strength to commit this act. You may leave, Mr. Baxter, thank you for your time."
"Thank you Captain Lacroix." He gave a nod, and left.
"And then there were two." Lacroix turned back to Joe. "Mr. Perry, I have some-"
"I think want my lawyer present." Joe interrupted; his voice was still soft, but man, Joe did understand! I was glad to see that.
"Of course, all of you do have the right to seek legal counsel, and to have a lawyer present during questioning. I personally don't think it's necessary because we're not questioning you."
"You just wanted to know if I was left-handed!" Joe exclaimed; the fire was back.
"I could ask you to write and figure that out. Let's say this, for argument's sake. You had a lot to lose here. You and your wife are already on shaky ground; say you and Miss Lamoureax had a little fling, and then she decided to tell your wife. I think that you might resort to murder just to keep her quiet."
Joe was silent. I put my hand on Joe's shoulder; he was trembling. Fuck! He didn't tell Lacroix, about his dream-did he?
Lacroix's tone was stern. "Gentlemen, we must go back to that night, the last night of Candice Lamoureax's life. She was invited to dine with her guests at the Bistro. While there, she began to flirt with Mr. Perry, to such an extent that he felt that he had to leave the table. Mr. Tyler also leaves, to see what's wrong with Mr. Perry. Now I get a little confused.
"While they were gone, you came in." He pointed at Howe.
"Yes, I did."
"Why?"
"I went to her cottage and found a note saying that she was going to be at the Bistro."
"You didn't answer me, Mr. Howe. Why did you want to speak to her?"
"It was a private matter; it still is."
Lacroix leveled his gaze at Howe. "Really. Then let's continue: Where did you go to next, Mr. Howe?"
"I went back to my apartment, and went to sleep; I thought I could talk to her the next day."
"Mr. Perry, you came back here."
"Yeah, Steven brought me back."
"Then you went to her cottage to talk to her."
"Yeah, I did."
"And?" Lacroix stood in front of us.
"Candice slipped me something, she kissed me-"
"You Goddamned bastard!" Howe stood. Lacroix pushed him back in his chair.
"I'm not telling you again, Howe." He turned back to Joe, "Please."
"Uh, well, nothing else happened. I left, and came back here."
"Mr. Tyler, you went back to the Bistro."
"Yeah."
"And all of you came back at one in the morning." Lacroix clasped his hands. "So, who's lying? I'm sure that you won't break down and admit it. We must now go to the murder itself.
"Candice Lamoureax's throat was slashed with a knife; that was the cause of death, then her dead body raped, mutilated and beaten. I've never seen such a severe attack. She was so disfigured that we had to go by dental records for identification. And that wasn't all that easy, some of her teeth were knocked out of her mouth."
Joe's head hung down; I gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze.
Lacroix took out a handful of photos; and passed them around. They were photos of the room. Blood was everywhere. Blood stained the floor, walls, and bed. "I will not show you photos of the victim, but believe me, there was a tremendous amount of force used on her. People don't realize that even when a corpse is beaten, the blood will spray in a specific pattern; determined by the object used, and the force of the blow. See this wall, how clean it is."
"Yeah," Tom answered.
"It's where the murderer stood, his body blocked the wall. The blood sprayed on him."
"What's this smear on the floor?" Brad asked.
"Yes, that's very important Mr. Whitford." Lacroix picked up two large plastic bags: One had a bloodied black shirt, and the other, a bloodied black pair of jeans. "Your clothes, Mr. Perry."
"Oh Christ!" Howe exclaimed. "Where'd you find them?"
"They were found in the dumpster."
"I had them on when I came in, I remember I had a hard time getting them off." Joe remarked.
"Then you threw them in the dumpster?" Howe asked.
"Mr. Howe, please." Lacroix scolded again. "You see this is confusing me again."
"How can this be confusing? You just said that the murderer was blocking the wall." Howe sneered.
"Yes, but you see, when blood sprays, it had a pattern: Droplets, specks, sprays, blotches, they aren't like this. These were soaked. And how can a person get this much blood on their clothes and not on their underwear?"
"Maybe he doesn't wear any." Howe crossed his arms.
"I wear underwear! I sleep in my underwear!" Joe retorted back.
"Even if he didn't have underwear on, what about his socks, and his shoes?
He had shoes and socks on, I mean look at this cuff, it's just as drenched as the rest of the jeans. That means he had to have blood on his feet too."
"Maybe he threw them. Just like the shirt and pants." Howe just had all the fucking answers.
"No, they are here, and they don't have any blood on them at all. But say, we didn't find them. If you're going to throw a shirt and jeans in a bag, why not throw the entire outfit? Or, if you're going to separate items, why not separate everything and throw each item somewhere different? And Mr. Perry's necklaces and rings; Kirby examined them while he was unconscious, nothing. No blood, no tissue, nothing."
"He could have cleaned them up." Howe declared.
"Yes, he could have. While you were in the hospital, we checked your room. We checked all your rooms. Nothing! No blood residue was found in the sinks or showers. No blood anywhere. You didn't clean up, because there was nothing to clean. There was a lot of blood in Candice Lamoureax's shower."
"So he showered there!" Howe exclaimed.
"And put on his bloodied clothes again? Or perhaps he walked in the nude to the house? That would have been risky! Maybe he changed clothes there, took your clothes, Mr. Howe; but where are they now? All Mr. Perry's clothes have now been accounted for. Why carry your bloody clothes along anyway? Why not throw them away at the cottage? Let's just say, that the murderer killed her, and walked back to the house. Why isn't there any blood anywhere on the lawn-or driveway? He would have been literally dripping in her blood. There's no blood anywhere in this house!
"The only way this shirt and this pair of jeans could get this much blood on them is if you rolled around on the floor!" He motioned to the photo of the floor to the large smear. "The murderer went into your room, and stole your clothes. He came back, and smeared them in her blood; trying to make it look like you were covered. He put them in a plastic bag and took them to the dumpster."
"So you're saying," Tom began, "That Joe was framed."
"Like the Mona Lisa." Lacroix said.
"What!" Howe stood again.
"Oh, yes, he was framed."
"He did it!" Howe was just as angry as he was when he came and threw his temper tantrum. "Why are you believing him? Why are you on his side? He did it; you had it right! He was afraid of her, the damage she could have done-"
In a flash, Lacroix picked up a roll of tape and threw it at Howe. Howe caught it. He instantly knew his mistake.
"Why Mr. Howe, you are a very good catcher! Even with your left hand!" Lacroix exclaimed. "Why did you lie? You're left handed, aren't you, Mr. Howe?"
"I know where I saw you!" Joe said. You could see that he was putting it together. "Sebastian Howe. He was on the plane; he sat behind us!" It hit me, too. He was directly behind me and Joe.
"Well now, Mr. Howe. Why don't you tell us what happened?"
"I caught this by accident! You mean to tell me that you have never caught anything with your left hand?" He angrily threw the tape back; Lacroix caught it and took a step forward.
"No. Most people will use their dominant hand in an emergency." Lacroix now was right in his face. "So, which do you prefer? Red wine or black coffee?"
This statement meant something to everybody except me and Joe. Howe gasped, but he recovered quickly. "I was just asking her what she wanted for later."
"Then next day? You said you went back to your apartment; you went to sleep! You weren't planning on seeing her until the next day." Lacroix retrieved the bag with Joe's shirt in it, and held up another bag-the one with my red shirt in it. "Think about what you were wearing that night. Red wine for the man that's dressed in red; black coffee for the man that's dressed in black. You didn't know which one Miss Lamoureax was after. What better way than to ask, 'Which is our prey?' It's over Howe. Come clean. We know that you murdered Candice Lamoureax."
"I'm not saying a fucking word!" Howe collapsed back into his chair.
"You better not. I know the crowd you run with. What will they do when they hear that you're in custody? A smart boy like you won't talk, or can they be so sure?" Lacroix replaced the evidence bags, and walked to Howe.
Howe stared at him, but remained silent.
"I am very sorry to think that you thought that we were just a bunch of bumbling cops down here. You thought that all you had to do was to plant a few incriminating items and we would get reeled in hook, line and sinker. All you had to do was blow up at Mr. Perry, and we would run and arrest him. And to think, you said that you loved this woman! Your Candi! The way you used her! Some of my older colleagues knew Candice before her father's death; she was an innocent girl. I think that you saw that she was weakened, she could be your gambit."
"I didn't do it! He killed her!"
"No," Lacroix shook his head, and paced back and forth. "Miss Lamoureax did fight back, her fingernails tore into her attacker. Does Mr. Perry have any unexplainable wounds on his person?"
"Nothing." Kirby answered.
"And we have this," Lacroix looked at the photos, then at Joe. "It's called a 'bite-test'. Kirby, would you care to explain this to these patient men?"
"Here's the bite in question." Kirby held the photo in front of him. "A bite mark on her arm; made after death. Look at that bite! Look at the teeth marks. See how straight they are?" He pointed out the almost perfect circle of marks.
"Yes." I answered.
Lacroix held up a sheet to the photograph. It was another set of marks; hardly in a circle, the marks were out of alignment; some were overlapping. Kirby continued. "This is Joe Perry's bite test. Mr. Perry doesn't have straight teeth. Looked at them," He put his finger onto Joe's lip and pulled it away, Joe was startled to say the least.
"They're nice and white, but not straight. He also has a distinctive bite; Perry's got a slight under bite," Kirby held Joe's jaw in his hand and pointed to his profile. He released Joe, and held up the photo. "And this person has an overbite. These marks here are deeper, indicating an overbite. Perry's not our man."
"You can tell all that just by looking at this photo and my test?" Joe asked.
"Bite marks are just as singular as fingerprints." Lacroix looked at Joe.
"This is bullshit!" Howe exclaimed.
"I was wondering if I could get a bite-test from you, Mr. Howe?"
Howe frowned, "Why me? Why not ask them?"
"They were all at the Bistro while Candice Lamoureax was being murdered. I have seventeen witnesses' to back that up. Will you give me a bite-test, Mr. Howe?"
"No. I will not."
"There is one more fact that proves Mr. Perry's innocence. My men combed this estate, and her home. They found a remarkable thing. In the cottage, Miss Lamoureax had an ingenious device. She could videotape at will. All she had to do was push a button and that would start a camera hidden in her bookshelves. That's how she did her best work. She was a blackmailer. Mr. Perry, I think you will find this interesting." Lacroix went to the TV, turned it and the VCR on and inserted a tape.
"Oh my God!" Joe exclaimed, "It's her living room!"
It started out as an audio; they were out of the camera's range. We heard her welcoming him into her home. We saw Joe sit down on the couch with Candice. The apology she gave to him, and Joe explaining that this could never happen. The handshake, her offer of coffee, we watched Joe almost passed out. Her trying to undress him and the kiss, we saw Joe throw her aside. Her pleading with him. Joe was embarrassed, but I think he was relieved to see himself leaving; you could hear her curse after he slammed the door. Then static. Lacroix shut it off.
"That's about all I remember." Joe said.
Howe stared at Joe; he was pissed. He looked like he was about to jump out of that chair and tear Joe apart.
Lacroix held up a book, wrapped in a plastic bag. It was the book Joe had on the plane. That got Howe's undivided attention.
"Can we cut a deal?" Howe asked.
"Deal! Why should I make you a deal?"
"Cut me a deal, and I tell you everyone involved."
Lacroix looked at him, "Oh, yes, we have a deal. I must tell you this: Sebastian Howe; I'm placing you under arrest for the murder of Candice Lamoureax. I must say this as well." Lacroix removed a card from his wallet. He read it out loud. "You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to seek counsel. If you cannot afford counsel, it will be provided for you. Now, tell me what happened."
Howe was silent for a moment, then he sighed and began. "She told me that they had invited her to dinner at the Bistro. I admit I wanted to see him, to see what all the fuss was about. I entered and saw the three of them with Candi. I knew that there were five on the plane. Then when she told me that the other two had left, I knew it was just another bit of bad timing. I really didn't know if anyone would recognize me from the plane, so I didn't want to hang around too long.
"You're right; I wasn't sure which one she was after. I asked the wine coffee thing, when I saw the two of them coming back. We always did that. 'Which do you prefer?' It was our code. Men are always a drink, women food. We were good at those adlibs. I suppose you know she said 'You know I love black.' That meant that she knew she was gonna get him in bed. It was all in motion.
"I went to the cottage, and I talked to her. She told me that he had gotten very sick. The rendezvous was off. I told her to find out if he knew about the list. I left; I was about to go to her garage and get into my car, when I saw him come to the cottage. When he left the cottage so quickly, I figured that he did know. He must have told her; it was over.
"List?" Joey frowned. Lacroix motioned for us to be quiet.
Howe continued. "I went back inside. Candice was crying, I thought it was because she messed it all up. I tried to console her, but she didn't want a thing to do with me. I said that I would beat him up if he didn't cooperate. She wanted me to leave him alone; she was certain that he didn't know about the list. She told me about how he'd thrown her aside. How he wouldn't have sex with her. I told her that she could work on him some more. She had already told me about certain things that had happened; so I knew that she was getting pretty close to making him cave in. She said that she knew he'd never give in.
"So I went into her bedroom, I was trying to find her tranquilizers and I found her diary on the stand. I don't know why, I just opened it and started reading it. I was so angry; I read what she wanted to do to him, what she wanted him to do to her! She'd never fallen for any of them." Howe stopped, the tears streaming down his face. He cleared his throat and continued. "I thought I was the only one that she loved. But as I read that damned book, I could feel myself getting so angry. I walked out, and she was still crying, that really pissed me off. He was worth crying over.
"I confronted her about the diary. I wanted to know whom did she love? She said she didn't know, but she knew that it wasn't me. She said that she wanted out; it wasn't worth it anymore. I slapped her; I was trying to get her back to her senses, but she attacked me instead. Her nails tore right into my arm. She started to scream at me, about how I wasn't a real man; a real man wouldn't hit a woman. She wanted me out of her house and out of her life.
"I went into the kitchen and I got a knife out of the butcher's block. She tried to get to the front door, but I chased her down, and then I dragged her into the bedroom. I don't know why; she made me angry. I loved her so much that I hated her. She was crying and begging for me not to hurt her. She told me that she loved me, that she was sorry. All I thought was she was nothing but a lying little whore and I slashed her throat. I didn't even realize what I had done, until I saw that she wasn't breathing.
"Then I just had to have her. I think I was trying to see if I did care for her. Maybe to make up for killing her-to say I was sorry. All I saw was the vision of them, in bed. I knew it was stupid, they never had sex, but the thought was racing through my mind. I became angry with her again. I took the knife and cut her face up, nobody would ever think what a pretty girl again. I just kept slashing and stabbing her until the knife blade broke off. I saw the bat she kept just in case of intruders, so I started beating her. The blood sprayed everywhere, but I just had to keep hitting her, I couldn't stop if I wanted to. It was like I was possessed. I finally stopped; I couldn't even recognize that it was a human being lying in that bed.
"I really didn't know what to do next. I thought about making it look like a robbery, but then who'd rob a cottage with a mansion sitting right there? So I cleaned myself up, and changed my clothes. I just kept thinking about her and him, and how she loved him more than she loved me! She was completely in love with a man she barely knew! So, I decided that if I could kill her, I certainly could kill him." Howe's voice shook with anger; Joe looked at me, then we looked back to Howe.
"Yes, go on." Lacroix prodded.
"So I went into the house, with every intention of taking him out, I found him sleeping. I couldn't really see what she fell for." He sneered at Joe. "He wasn't really her type. How easily I could have just beaten him, but then he would be idolized by the media. It would be the crime of the century, the murder of a rock star. No, he didn't deserve that, he didn't deserve love; he deserved the pain, anguish and shame of a trial. He deserved to suffer, like I was suffering.
"So I just took his clothes off the floor. I went back to Candice's and a smeared his clothes in her blood, then I put them in a plastic bag and tossed it into the dumpster. I knew the police would find them there. Then I thought about hiding the knife and bat in his room, but I saw the suburban come in the driveway with the rest of the guests. I took my own clothes and left."
Sebastian Howe stood, and faced Lacroix. "I did love her. I really didn't mean to kill her, it just happened."
"I'll talk with you at the station."
"Actually I feel better just telling someone about it. My conscience hasn't let me forget it."
"Howe, we'll talk." Lacroix motioned his head and the two officers took Howe away. Lacroix sat down on the edge of the desk. "I had to lull Howe into thinking his plot had worked. Howe had to think that he had won. I already knew he was left-handed. I've seen him write out checks, he signed with his left-hand. When he lied about that, I knew we had him. I knew that you were innocent; I've known since the third day. Anyway, I really must apologize for my actions, Mr. Perry."
"Oh, well, I realize you had a job to do."
"I was actually going to arrest you, just to have you in protective custody; then Kirby changed my mind. We decided that it would be better for you to stay here."
"Protective custody?" Joe frowned.
"Yes. I wasn't sure if Howe would change his mind: Instead of framing you, he might try a more permanent solution. My men watched him since the day Miss Lamoureax was found." Howe crossed his arms. "Do you have any questions?"
"Why did Howe come here?" Joey asked, "That whole scene he made! Why not lay low?"
"Oh, yes, the big dramatic scene! That's why I watched I watched you, Mr. Perry. The way you exploded at Mr. Tyler, well, I was wondering if you were at heart an angry, violent person; a person capable of this murder. Then you very calmly stood your ground with Howe, you didn't even raise your voice at him. You stood there and let him insult you. Maybe it was the medication? I wasn't sure, but then Kirby told me that you were refusing to take your pills. You weren't sedated.
"Howe went too far. We never released the name of any suspect-so why did he pick you and not Mr. Tyler, unless you were the one he was trying to take down. He did imply that any one of you did it; but you were the one he went for."
"But why me?" Joe asked. "I didn't provoke this."
"It all started with this book," Lacroix held it in front of him again. "'Murderers and Their Victims'; It's a textbook, for criminologists. I have one as well; it's a very good book. Is this the book that you got off the plane?"
"Yeah."
"Do you remember when she noticed this book?"
Joe went back, "At the painting, she wanted to know if I was into studying murders.
"I'm afraid that she would have done just about anything to get that book back, Mr. Perry. I think she was trying to see if you had looked through the entire book. Did you?"
Joe shook his head, "I just started reading the first couple of pages. It was just something to do on the plane."
"In the back of the book, is this list, the list Howe referred to earlier. It consists of a list of names, and addresses behind them. This was the master copy, of whom refused to pay. I think that's why the title of the book is so important. These men were targeted for extermination. We found this on Howe's bookshelf. "
"Maybe it's another copy." Joe said. "You said you have one, too."
"It is the one you had. Your fingerprints are on it. Candice Lamoureax's fingerprints are on it. Howe's are on it-even a little splotch of blood, is on the corner; the blood is the same type as Candice Lamoureax's. " Lacroix said it back down. "Do you remember me fingerprinting you, Mr. Perry?"
"Uh, yeah. I do." Joe frowned a bit. I don't think he really did.
"It was kinda stupid to leave it on a plane." Tom declared.
"Oh, it wasn't an accident. It was left there on purpose; Howe was supposed to pick it up. Howe was the muscle; these were the men he was supposed to take care of. Actually, it had been sitting there for quiet some time. Their 'accountant' left it when he exited the plane in Orlando, but our murderer missed his flight.
"So it sat there, untouched by all passengers. A member of the cleaning crew noticed it, but he forgot to pick it up and take it to the lost and found department. A man did call the lost and found, and no book was turned in. Either it was still there, or somebody picked it up. He almost lucked out; he was the last to enter the plane, he hoped that the book was still there, but the plane was ready to take off. He had to wait.
"Then Mr. Perry innocently picked it up. He saw it, from his seat; did he dare ask you for it? Certainly not! You might remember his face! He waited for you to put it back down when you left the plane, but you didn't. You took it; quiet by accident."
"Howe quickly called Candice; she in turn called the airport. She was sure that her guests were on that plane. The pilot said he was certain that one of you had taken it, since he knew the businessmen. The pilot wasn't certain which one of you five had it; but he said that he told the woman that it was the man wearing a white tee shirt and blue jeans. That's all she needed to hear; soon, she'd find out and she could work on you. Then two of you show up in white tee shirts and blue jeans. She waited, and saw that Mr. Perry was holding this book."
"Why do you think that Candice called? What about Gretchen Caulfield?" I rebutted. Brad frowned at me, I quickly added, "I mean, that's what a lawyer would ask."
"Gretchen Caulfield, yes, I spoke with her and her secretary. She knew that you were coming sometime during the week of the 12th but not any exact day. Your time started when you came, and two weeks later, you were to leave. You had the option of staying longer, even up to a month if you, Mr. Tyler, deemed it so.
"Gretchen Caulfield had no clue when the plane was to arrive! Candice knew: Mr. Tyler's secretary called, and told her that you would be departing Boston on the 14th. What woman knew you were arriving on the 14th? What woman knew of the book? Only Candice Lamoureax fits into equation. You see, she made an incredible mistake: She told the pilot that she knew where they were staying, and that she would get it from him later.
"Candice came to Mr. Perry's room; claiming that it was her job to put his things away. She was trying to see where you had the book. She asked you if she could read it, and she had finally retrieved it. She even offered to return it to the airport. What a sweet girl! But could she be so sure that you hadn't found the list as well? I think that's when she decided to seduce you."
"Blackmail." Tom shook his head.
"Yes."
"How can you blackmail one of us? Hell, everybody knows the shit we've pulled off over the years!" I exclaimed.
"She had to have an upper hand; in case Mr. Perry found the list. She could try and implicate that he or all of you were involved in this scam."
"Forgive me," Brad began, "But aren't you assuming a lot? This can't hold up in court."
"Howe won't get off on some technicality, will he?" I added.
"This will never go to court. Howe will collapse like a house of cards; he's ratted out a few people in a drug ring back in his frat days. The Government will cut him a deal, and he'll get a slap on the hand and end up in the witness relocation program. But if he didn't cooperate, I had my ducks in a row. Facts don't assume. Everything I have told you can be backed up with the facts.
"Howe has some very nasty gashes on his arms; they became infected. So he went to the emergency room to get them treated. He made up some story about a dog attacking him while he was jogging. That sent a red flag up. The skin found under Candice Lamoureax's fingernails is a complete match with Sebastian Howe; the gashes are the same width as her fingers. We found blood and tissue in Howe's Viper, in his home. The book was there. We even found his clothes that he wore when he murdered her: They had the blood patterns one would expect to see. I am certain it will match Candice Lamoureax's DNA. What I've told you is the scenario we came up with after we read the crime scene and autopsy.
"No, he won't get off, Mr. Tyler. I think Howe did kill in the heat of the moment. He didn't really plan it out. He used weapons already there. I also knew that the murderer must have deeply loved her, and yet he hated her."
"What makes you say that?" Tom asked.
"The nature of the murder. Say it was a burglary that had gone bad; most of the time, a burglar will kill quickly. It's an outright death; time is of the essence. They wouldn't take the time to kill, rape, and beat. It would be a quick kill, and get the hell out. When the murderer is a 'loved one', they take longer; every wound is significant. Coupled with the nature of the post-mortem wounds, the viciousness of the attack-it shows a lot of anger and hatred."
"Makes sense." Joey said. "How do you know all that?"
"Chapter seven, 'Murderers and Their Victims'; it's my job to read a crime scene. As I said, he's not a patient man, he didn't really think out the entire plot. I think that you are lucky, Mr. Perry. He could have very easily killed you."
Joe frowned. "All because I picked up that damned book!"
"You helped a lot of victims Mr. Perry; at least four men that would have been dead by now. No telling how much longer this would have gone on." Lacroix removed the tape and handed it to Joe. "This is your tape: You can do what you wish with it. We have no use for it. Rest assured, no one will ever find out about your involvement in this."
Joe looked at it, then at Lacroix. "Thank you."
Christ, Lacroix wasn't the prick I thought he was. "Lacroix, listen, I'm sorry that we got off on the wrong foot. I thought that you had blinders on, and all you guys were seeing was Joe. I was just protecting my friend."
"I knew you were loyal, Mr. Tyler. I understand."
"Lacroix, why aren't you in a big city solving crimes?" I asked.
"I use to be on the force in Baton Rouge; I had a very bad case. A little girl was murdered; I couldn't handle it. I went on a vacation to get away from it all. I opted for some peace and quiet; so I never left."
"You never found the girl's murderer?"
"No. I failed." You could see the pain in his eyes, it was tearing him up, just admitting it. Then he forced a smiled. "Try to enjoy the rest of your vacation. Good day." Lacroix left with Kirby.
Joe sighed. "It's over. It's over with." Joe finally stood straight. He looked at the tape.
"What are you gonna do with it?" Brad asked.
"I don't know," Joe fingered it. "I think I'll keep it for a while, until I know that I'm out in the clear." He handed it to me, "Will you keep it somewhere for me?"
"Yeah, sure Joe."
The doorbell rang, we all heard Billie's voice.
"Oh God," Joe moaned, and stared at his feet. I know he didn't want to look at her; he didn't want to know her decision: Best to be in the dark, than to face the bitter truth.
"She wouldn't come all this way just to yell at you!" Tom said.
"Remember what I said. I'll stand behind you." I declared, but Joe didn't look up.
"We all will." Brad said.
"Joe," Billie called out. She came into the room; then frowned when she saw Joe. "Oh, hi." She looked at the rest of us, "Joe, Stan called. He said that there was some trouble down here. Joe what happened?" She ran her fingers through his hair. "Steven said that you were sick. Did you see a doctor?"
Joe didn't say anything. He just kept staring at his feet.
"Um, guys," Billie looked at us, "Can we be alone?"
I looked at Joe; we wouldn't leave unless he wanted us to. Joe motioned with his head for us to go.
"If you need anything, hey we're right here." We walked back to the foyer, but we watched and listened at the opened door.
"Joe. What happened to you?"
"I had some anxiety attacks."
"Anxiety attacks?" She repeated.
He finally made himself look into her blue eyes. "Billie, I don't want us to break up. I wanna watch your hair turn gray. I mean, I always thought that we'd be sitting on our porch, watching our grandkids playing in the yard. I'm sorry I hurt you. I love you, Billie."
"Baby, I feel the same way. I missed you the minute I left the house. I tried to call the house, but nobody answered. I called Teresa, and she said that all of you went on a trip. I've been calling for you, and Steven just kept saying that you couldn't come to the phone. Then when Stan called, I just had to come down here and see what the hell's going on. I'm sorry for what I said, Joe. I don't know, when you called out her name, it really hurt."
"She didn't mean anything-"
"Then why did you call me Angie? She must have met something!"
Man, he'd never live this one down! "She was the last one I was with. I guess that's why I said it. I'm sorry. Billie, I love you. Can't you please forgive me?"
Billie smiled, "I love you, Joe. I forgive you, baby." She hugged him.
Joe saw me. I flash a smile, I already knew that things were patched up.
We had each told our stories separately: Gretchen wanted it that way. Hell, I don't know why. Joe returned to the study; I was glad to see that he had some speed back to him. He wasn't so tired looking now. He was beginning to eat again. It did him a world of good to have Billie here for the last two days. "Steven! Aren't you two done yet? I thought we we're gonna go golfing?"
Gretchen nodded. She had listened very patiently to our stories. "Yes, we're done, Joe. Wow. It sounds like you need a vacation from your vacation!"
Joe laughed. It was good to hear him laugh again. He looked like he was happy; considering all that he had just gone through.
She crossed her arms, and looked at the two of us. "I honestly had no idea that Candice was running this operation out of my inn. I do feel bad about all this." Gretchen said. "Why don't you guys stay here another week? It'll be on the house! What do you say, Steven?"
I looked at Joe. I wasn't gonna talk for him. "Honestly, Gretchen, I'd rather go home."