Evidence (36 page)

“No
one is important.”

“Obviously
someone was to you, Helga.” He moved in closer, like I’d seen him do so many
times. Spreading his shoulders and hardening his voice.

She
flinched reflexively. Forced a smile.

He
asserted his big face inches from hers. “Helga, someone was important enough
for you to pay fifty thousand dollars to burn down twigs. Important enough for
you to set up a shell company. Important enough for you to plan precisely.”

Helga
Gemein’s chest heaved. She looked away. Beginning of the end.

“Helga,
you’d like me to think you believe in nothing, but the way I see it,
everything
you did was an act of pure faith. Because that’s what vengeance is, right? Pure
faith in the power of correction. That wrong can be made right.”

Pretty
lips quivered. She stilled them with another smirk. “Ridiculous.”

“Faith
motivated by love, Helga.”

Silence.

Milo
said, “You loved Dahlia, nothing to be ashamed of, on the contrary. But it is
downright fundamentalist, taking faith that far. You may not
be
religious, Helga, but you have no trouble
drawing
upon religion when it
works for you.”

Helga
Gemein rolled her eyes. Let loose with a ragged, too-loud laugh.

The
sudden rise of her shoulders, the rippling along her jawline gave her away.

Milo
said,
“Sutma.”
No answer.

“You’ve
heard of
sutma
, Helga.”

“Primitive
nonsense.”

“Maybe so, Helga, but the point was Prince Teddy and
his family don’t agree.”

Waiting
for a reaction to the name.

A
single blink. Then nothing.

Milo
said, “Or maybe it’s not just them. Maybe you really
do
believe in
heaven and hell and all that good stuff. But that doesn’t really matter, Helga.
The point is the sultan and the rest of the family believes and after what was
done to Dahlia, you needed to grab hold of any shred of revenge you could find.
Because Teddy’s out of your reach, geographically, financially, you can’t touch
him. But cosmically? You burned those twigs in order to leave Teddy dangling in
cosmic limbo. Downright terrifying for someone who believes in
sutma.”

Silence.

He
said, “It is a funny concept, though. If
I
was a religious person, I’d want
to believe just the opposite—destroying material remains speeds
up
entry
to the next world.”

He
laughed, clapped his hands hard, sprang up, paced the room twice.

Helga
watched, alarmed. Forced herself to stop following his circuit. Sat still as he
came to a halt behind her.

She
stared straight ahead, pretending not to care about the massive figure
shadowing her.

Her
jawline was an information highway.

“Reason
I just laughed, Helga, is I had a sudden insight—an epiphany, I guess you’d
call it. You’re
totally
into ritual. Like shaving your head. Since the
first time I met you I’ve been trying to figure it out, why would you do
something like that. But now I
get
it. It’s a ritual of self-abasement
you took on until you achieved your goal. Like fasting on Lent—wouldn’t
surprise me if you’ve done your share of that, too. Other kinds of fasting.
Maybe even a vow of celibacy.”

Her
jaw clenched.

“How
long ago, Helga, did you start eating meat during Lent? If you ever did. Do you
eat your Lent veggies and explain it as meta-ecology?”

Helga Gemein shut her eyes.

“Even
so, it’s religion, Helga. Are you a strict vegetarian? Or do you sneak meat
when no one’s looking?”

Silence.

“Once
a Catholic, always a Catholic, Helga. Believe me, I know.”

She
folded her arms. Let them drop. Began deep-breathing.

“Oh,
come on,” said Milo. “Let’s be just a little bit honest and ’fess up like they
taught you in convent school: At the core, you’re devout, believe sin must be
punished. And there’s no greater sin than murder. Especially the murder of an
innocent like Dahlia.”

Helga
Gemein’s eyelids scrunched tighter. Tears trickled out.

“You
loved
Dahlia, that’s not a bad thing, that’s a good thing, she loved you, too.
Believing
is a good thing, Helga. It helps me understand what you did. Everything you’ve
done since you arrived in this country has been aimed at getting justice for
Dahlia. You’re powerless to go to Sranil and do what you dream about—though I’m
sure you haven’t given up on that. And maybe Daddy hasn’t, either. But
meanwhile …”

She
let out a cry. Clamped a hand over her mouth.

Milo
bent close, spoke softly, inches from her ear. “You’re a survivor aiming for
justice. That’s
human
, Helga, and no matter what you say, you’re a
member of the species.”

The
entire lower half of Helga’s face began to tremble. She pressed one palm to her
cheek, failed to still waves of twitches.

Milo
pulled his chair so their knees were just short of contact.

“Let
the bastard dangle,” he said tenderly. “He deserves it.”

Moving
in closer. “What I
don’t
understand is why you had to kill Des and
Doreen?”

Helga
opened her eyes. “What are you talking about?”

“I
think we’ve moved past self-delusion, Helga.”

“You
are ridiculous.”

He
handed her a tissue. She swatted it away.

Milo
watched it flutter to the floor. “Why’d you have to kill them, Helga? Did they
get greedy and ask for more money?”

Helga Gemein shook her head. “Fool.”

Milo
said, “Or were they just a nuisance and expendable? Time to cover your tracks.”

She
tried to scoot her chair back. The legs stuck. He pressed closer. She cleared
her throat. Drew back her head.

Boxmeister
said, “Uh-oh—”

Milo
jerked away just in time to avoid the missile of spit.

A wet
gob landed on the floor.

Her
hands were balled. Flush-faced, she panted.

Milo
shook his head, ever the patient schoolmaster. “Looks like I touched a nerve,
Helga.”

“You
have touched
stupidity
,” she said. “I have never killed
anyone.
Never.”

“What’s
the big deal? You claim to hate humanity—”

“Humanity
is
shit
. I don’t put
shit
on my hands.”

“Except
when it suits your purposes.” She shook her head. “Idiot.”

Reaching
for his papers, he pulled out another sheet. The picture of the man in the
hoodie. Adroitly, no more fumbling. “You killed Desi and Doreen with this guy’s
help.”

Helga
Gemein’s jaw turned smooth. A smile spread slowly. That serene smile tightened
my gut.

“I
have never seen this person.”

Maria
Thomas said, “Uh-oh.”

“What?”
said Boxmeister.

Thomas
said, “That look like a tell to you? That picture
mellowed
her. Damn.”
She turned to me: “Either she is nuts or she really doesn’t know what he’s
talking about, right, Doc? Either way, it’s
mucho problemo
.”

Milo
continued to display the photo.

Helga
said, “You can wave that around forever, your little policeman flag.”

“This
guy’s your partner, Helga. The person who helped you murder Des and Doreen. Did
you drive up to Port Angeles with him?”

Helga shook her head. “You are an utter fool.”

“This
photo was taken in Port Angeles a couple of days ago. This man was there to
retrieve the money. Talk about good planning. You never had any intention of
letting Des keep a penny. Because you never had any intention of letting him
live. The real reason you rented him a car was so you could follow him and find
out where he stashed the money. After you returned to L.A., you got hold of his
storage key—plucked it out of a pocket or found it in his desk drawer, made a
mold. Maybe you did it when he was off having fun with the ladies and you were
in the office all by your bald-headed, self-abasing, not-so-lapsed Catholic
fundamentalist
self.”

Helga
Gemein giggled. “You truly believe this
scheiss
.”

“The
evidence makes me believe, Helga.”

“Then
the evidence is
scheiss.”
Clucking her tongue. “I have burned twigs,
that is all. Now I wish to leave and pay my fine and not hear any more of this
crazy nonsense.”

“Twigs,”
said Milo. “We call it arson and it’s a felony.”

Helga
shrugged. “I will hire a lawyer. He will make it into a prank that got too big
and I will be free and you will remain stupid.”

“Damn,”
said Boxmeister.

Thomas
said, “She hasn’t actually
asked
, she’s only
threatened.”
Shifting close to the mirror. “Change the
subject
, dude.”

Milo
said, “More water?”

“Yes!”
said Thomas.

Helga
said, “No, thank you.” Sweet smile. Unsettling. Wrong.

“Desi
and Doreen were murdered in that turret. You went back to the house anyway.”

“I
had business to do.”

“The
murder didn’t bother you?”

“Not
my concern, Policeman.”

Milo
slid another piece of paper toward her.

“What
is this, Policeman?”

“This
is what’s left of a gentleman named Charles Ellston Rutger. He grew up in a
house that once sat on the Borodi property. Had one
of
those stupid sentimental attachments to the land, which is why he liked to
sneak up there, sit in that same turret, reminisce about the good old days. See
that shiny thing?” Pointing. “That’s what was left of his wineglass. And that,
over there? That used to be a tin of foie gras. Mr. Rutger was enjoying a snack,
washing it down with a nice Bordeaux the night you reduced
him
to dust.”

Helga
Gemein grabbed the paper.

“That’s
a crime scene photo, Helga. Check the date. He doesn’t look like much, does he?
You killed him.”

Helga
gaped. Whispered, “No.”

“On
the contrary, Helga.
Yes
. A big
fat
yes. Mr. Rutger had the
misfortune to be enjoying a quiet moment in the turret of that monstrosity when
you came in and set your fuses and your timers and your plugs of Jell-O. He
didn’t hear you because you were careful and quiet and he was an old man and
being all the way up there on the third floor muted the sound. He was sipping
wine as you stood on the sidewalk and enjoyed your act of cleansing, but maybe
you already know that.”

“No!”

“He
didn’t hear
you
, Helga, but you’re young, your ears work just fine, so
my bet is you heard
him
. But you didn’t care, what’s another piece of
human
scheiss?”

Helga
let go of the photo as if it were toxic. It slid to the floor. She stared at
it, eyes wide with horror.

First
time she’d shown anything close to appropriate emotion. I liked her better for
it. But not much.

“Oh,
God,” she said.

No
atheists on the hot seat.

“Your
twigs became a pyre for a human being, Helga.
That
we call felony
homicide. Loss of a life during the commission of any major crime, even without
prior intention. That’s
not
a fine, Helga.”

“I
never knew,” she said, in a small, thin voice. “You must believe me.”

“I
must?”

“It is
true!
I did not
know!”

“You
haven’t been listening, Helga. Whether or not you knew, it’s still felony
homicide.”

“But
that… makes no sense.”

“I
don’t write the rules, Helga.”

She
studied him. “You are lying. That is special effects. Anyone can stamp a date.
You try to confuse me so I will confess to Des and Doreen but I
will
not
because I
did
not.”

“You did
a whole lot, Helga. Trust me, Mr. Rutger’s real. Was. Want me to show you his
autopsy report? You fried him to a crisp.”

“I do
not kill.”

Milo
shook his head. “Unfortunately, you do. You’ve already admitted the arson,
admitted planning it. A man died in the process, you’re facing a long prison
sentence. The only way I can see you extricating yourself from this mess is by
explaining yourself. Tell me why you decided to eliminate Des and Doreen. I can
see a motive right off the bat: They were trying to blackmail you. If they
were, that’s a good explanation, people can understand that, it’s kind of
self-defense.”

She
shook her head.