The Last Clinic (19 page)

19

A Man with Striking Features.

The next morning Darla law awake in bed, thinking about the case, laying out what she’d say to Shelby when she went in—all the stuff she and Uther had learned. Maybe she’d leave out the part about Conway waiting to build an act around her.

Shelby called first.

“Miss Darla, we got us a situation here. Tommy’s found himself an eyewitness, a woman. One that says she saw Doctor Nicoletti speeding away from the clinic at the time of the murder.”

This was not surprising because twenty-five thousand dollars was a big incentive. The way Tommy had shot his mouth off, half of Northeast Jackson knew the doctor was a suspect.

“Someone credible?”

“It’s Marietta Simmons. You’re familiar with her?”

“The Disease Ball Queen?” said Darla.

“That’s our girl.”

Marietta’s husband was the money behind Magnolia Digital, the second largest company in the state. Marietta sat on a bunch of charitable boards.

“Safe to say the reward didn’t play into it,” said Shelby.

“Safe to say.”

Darla pictured Marietta, the way she looked in the numerous Jackson society magazines. Marietta getting her photo taken in a black gown at the Opera. Click. In a red gown at the Symphony. Click. A blue gown at the governor’s mansion. Click. Marietta owned her share of gowns and had her picture taken a lot.

“According to Tommy, Marietta called him last night and asked if she could come in. He got her on a DVD naming the doctor. The way Tommy carried on during the taping you’d think he was
Larry King Live
. He covered all the bases though, then hauled Dr. Nic out of bed, brought him in, and let Marietta pick him out of a line-up, which she did. Everybody knows what he looks like. His photo has been in the damn
Jackson Crier
for two days now. Tommy played the interview for Nicoletti this morning hoping to sweat a confession out of him but it didn’t work. The doc is sticking with the story he told you.”

“Has Dr. Nicoletti been charged?”

“Ole Tommy’s gung ho, but I ain’t allowed it yet. There’s something about Marietta’s testimony that bothers me.”

“Something she said?”

“Everything is a little too perfect. Ain’t that what they say in the movies? Everything’s too perfect? Don’t let this go to your head, but I want you to look at the tape. See what you think. We can hold Nicoletti for another couple of days without putting the bracelets on him and marching him around the parade ground.”

“What did Dr. Nicoletti say when he saw the interview with Marietta?”

“That’s another thing. He said he wanted to talk to you.”

“Me?” She tried to act surprised, but inside she was thinking and hoping he might. It would give her another shot at him, a chance to force his hand, one way or another. Darla wondered if Dr. Nicoletti would be so nonchalant this time.

“You need to come in here ASAP, unless you’re in the middle of watching some damn movie.”

“Where are you holding Dr. Nicoletti? Jackson or Raymond?”

“He’s in a cell in Jackson. We ran him through the County out in Raymond first, an arcane procedure, I admit. Tommy drove him out there and back in that damn Caddy of his. I should have never agreed to let him put in that bulletproof window. We can thank his uncle the mayor for that one, too.”

“I’m on my way.”

“Watch your step when you walk through the doors. What I mean is, try not to slip on any of Tommy’s gloat. The whole damn station is knee deep in it.”

When Darla arrived at Hinds County Central, Tommy was beaming, high- and low-fiving his team, taking backslaps from the station cops. Telling the assembled how he knew all along it was the dirty doc on the hill.

“Ole Tommy got his man,” he said to Darla. “Marietta ‘kiss my mobile phone’ Simmons. You can’t beat that with a stick. Fleeing the scene of the crime. It’s murder one. Premeditated. Got to be. And the DA says if that’s the case, he ain’t offering no deal. Ask for the fireworks, is what he said. And you can bet the governor won’t commute. We ain’t soft in the head. Not in Mississippi. You think he’ll share the cigar with me? There’s an above the fold for you. Me and the gov taking hits off one of his Havanas when Nicoletti fries.”

Tommy made like he was doing an air guitar and looped his arm in a windmill, giving Darla his cobra stare at the end, like she was one of his blue-haired groupies.

He held out his arm as though she should go first. “Come on down to the screening room, Detective. Take a look at the State’s star witness. See some police work, Mississippi style. I can get you some coffee, soft drink, RC Cola?”

“Any popcorn or Raisinets? Better yet, what about a Moon Pie?”

“There’s a vending machine outside if you got change.”

Then he got that she was kidding him and managed a smile. Her little joke on him. So what? This was his day.

Darla sat on the chair in front of the monitor.

“Y’all snuggled in nice now?” he said, pulling up one of the metal chairs.

Darla didn’t bother with a response.

He hit the Play button. There she was, Marietta Simmons, an Ole Miss Prom Queen with a dozen years added. She was still fresh-skinned and lean, but polished up into womanhood and turned out in a pale blue designer business suit that set off her eyes nicely. It looked like a St. John. It had to have put her husband back at least a two grand. She looked great.

Darla remembered bumping into Marietta at various social functions. The wife of a star football player gets to meet—make that
has
to meet—everyone. Marietta had always been gracious to her, just short of being icky-sticky.

Kendall thought Marietta’s graciousness had to do with Hugh. “Watch out for the ones that fawn all over you. That’s how women down here behave towards a wife when they’ve got the hots for her husband.”

Marietta seemed composed, comfortable, looking straight into the camera.
She’s done this before
, thought Darla, remembering the times she’d seen Marietta interviewed on TV for this and that charitable cause. She was always making a good impression—the kind of woman who you’d expect to be standing next to a captain of industry or a US senator.

“State your name, please,” came Tommy’s voice from off camera, a little more baritone than usual, using his Elvis speaking voice.

“Marietta Simmons.”

“Okay, Miss Marietta. I’m going to ask you some questions, and you just answer them as best you can. Ain’t nothing to worry about. Just tell us the way you remember.”

 “I understand,” she said, her gaze never leaving the camera. She didn’t look worried.

She waited close to a half-minute for Tommy’s first question. Apparently, he’d forgotten he was supposed to ask. Finally, she began on her own.

“I was on my way to the Fondren Health Club.”

“Right. Yes, the Fondren Health Club. On Sather Street, south of the health clinic. That would be Monday morning?”

“Yes. It was somewhere around six-thirty a.m. I do the early cardio boot camp. I was at the stoplight at Northbank and Sather, just down the hill from the clinic, where the Reverend Aldridge was killed. I looked in my rearview mirror—I don’t know why—and there was a car coming. Well, not a car, an SUV. It was still a little dark out but I could tell it was an SUV because of the size. It was going quite fast and was coming up right behind me. An 18-wheeler was crossing in front of me, a refrigerated meat truck, as I remember. There was artwork of a cow and a pig on the side of the vehicle. I looked back in the rearview and saw the driver in the SUV behind me as he slammed on his brakes. Well, maybe he didn’t slam on his brakes, but he came to a sudden stop.”

“Did you recognize the make of the SUV as it approached you?”

“It was black, I know that much.’

“Black, you say? Excellent.”

“Beyond that I’m not sure, but I recognized the driver, even though I was looking in the rearview mirror and he looked away when he came to a stop. I thought perhaps he recognized me and didn’t want me to recognize him. It was Dr. Nicoletti.”

“That would be Dr. Stephen Nicoletti?”

“Yes.”

“How can you be sure?”

The way Tommy was feeding her lines, keeping her on story, it sounded to Darla like they’d been rehearsing.

“Well, like I said, it was just turning light out, and I know Dr. Nicoletti on sight.”

“Is Dr. Nicoletti a friend of yours?”

“Heavens, no. What I mean is we’re only social acquaintances. He gave a presentation to the Jackson Humanitarian Council last spring, seeking funding for his…well…his clinic and their activities. I was chairwoman of the council. We declined to help him for all the obvious reason.”

“But the point is, you know what Dr. Nicoletti looks like? And you knew he was the driver of the SUV sitting behind you at the stoplight?”

“Exactly,” she said, all poise and sincerity.

“And his vehicle was directly behind yours?”

“Yes.”

“And your rear window? You sure it wasn’t fogged up, being how it was so early? The morning dew and all?

“It was not fogged up. We keep our vehicle in a heated garage, Detective. I could see perfectly.” She was almost scolding him a little.

“Okay, then, what about your vision?”

“I’m blessed to have 20-10 vision, Detective. Good genes I suppose.”

“Was there anyone else in the car with him…I mean, with Dr. Nicoletti?”

“He was alone in the front seat. The back seat was harder to make out, but I don’t remember seeing anyone.”

Marietta continued looking straight into the camera, her baby blue eyes unblinking. She was very convincing, except for the slightly controlled tone of her voice.
Maybe that’s what had tipped Shelby
, thought Darla.

The camera cut to Tommy, on camera now. His “aw, shucks” grin communicated how much he liked the limelight.

Darla thinking that since there was only one camera Tommy would have had to stop the filming and shift the camera to get himself in the picture.

Tommy leaned into the camera. “But can you be absolutely sure that the man you saw driving that vehicle coming down the hill just two blocks from the Jackson Women’s Health Clinic was Dr. Stephen Nicoletti?”

He cut back to Marietta for a tighter shot on her face.

“Dr. Nicoletti is a man of striking features.”

“Yes. I see. Striking features. Ethnic looking you mean? Eyetalian?”

 “I’m sure it was him.”

“Just from that little ole rearview mirror?”

“At first I saw him in the rearview mirror, as I stated. But then, when he almost hit my car, I turned around and saw him through the rear windshield.”

“Did you notice any particular expression on his face?”

“Well, he looked agitated. But I thought it was because we almost had a collision.”

“So what happened next?”

“The light changed and he pulled around me and sped away. He was driving so fast I thought perhaps he was on his way to a call, an emergency at a hospital.”

 “You’ve been very helpful, Miss Marietta.” Tommy leaned his head in so that the camera caught him full on. “Thank you. Thank you very much.”

He loves to say that line, that
thank you very much, thought Darla.

Tommy pulled his head back, revealing Marietta’s face with a more in sorrow than in anger expression.

“I know I should have come in earlier. I guess I was hoping you’d find the killer. I, in my heart, I was hoping it wasn’t Dr. Nicoletti, well, for obvious reasons.”

Obvious reasons are never quite that obvious
, thought Darla.

Tommy, with the camera still on Marietta, said, “Would you be prepared to swear to this in court, to what you saw, that it was Dr. Stephen Nicoletti? Would you swear to this under oath?”

The camera moved in for a close-up of Marietta and her eyes.

“Yes, I would.”

Tommy waited for her to say more, but she didn’t.

She’ll make a good witness
, thought Darla.
She knows when to shut up
.

At that, the image faded out.

Tommy clicked the DVD player off, propped his feet up on the coffee table, and folded his hands across his stomach.

“Locked, loaded, and on the way to the Grand Jury. What do you think?”

“I don’t know, the last close-up of Marietta. It’s a little over the top.”

“I meant what do you think about the case now?”

“I think you should keep Dr. Nicoletti in a cell by himself, away from the general jail population for his own safety.”

“Maybe you heard, I showed him the interview. Know what that dago s.o.b. said? No offense to the Eyetalians.”

“As long as it’s behind their back.”

Tommy, missing her point, continued. “He said how he thought Marietta had put on some weight. What kind of crazy damn comment is that? Calling one of the richest women in the state by her first name. They didn’t go to high school together.”

 “Seeing as how Dr. Nicoletti went to high school in Italy.”

“And then making a crack about her weight.”

Darla laughed, continuing to have fun with Tommy.

Tommy was getting flustered. “But you get my point. I told him, I said, ‘You ain’t just got the right to an attorney. You gonna need yourself a trial lawyer, a good one.’ He said he’d get to that, but first, could he see you? Pardon me, Detective, but like it was a conjugal visit request or some such.”

“I’ll see him now,” said Darla.

“Alone?”

“Alone.”

“Fine, but if there’s going to be a confession, I better be in on it. He’s my collar.” Then he added, “I got it, while you was out of town, following the so-called money trail.”

“I don’t think Dr. Nicoletti plans on confessing.”

“I got us a photographer on call, just in case.”

“You do think ahead, don’t you?”

Darla made it as far as the door before he added, “Understand, I ain’t saying you can’t be in the photo.”

The interrogation room was down the hall on the right. Dr. Nicoletti was seated on one of the metal folding chairs. The room felt hot. Tommy must have turned the thermostat up, a bush league cop maneuver done to get make perps uncomfortable and want to get out of the room ASAP. Dr. Nicoletti had a small band of sweat across his forehead, but his shirt was still buttoned all the way up, and he hadn’t loosened his tie. This Darla read as defiance. It amused her.