Death of a Washington Madame (8 page)

Roy was waiting for them in the
front of Mrs. Shipley's house.

"It was the cross," he said, as he led them
through the corridor to a doorway under the staircase that hid the entrance to
the back stairs. After descending the stairs, they walked through a dank
basement corridor lit at intervals by a series of bare bulbs.

"I've been cruising the neighborhood," Roy continued. "I had this idea in my head that, whoever he was, he would be wearing
that cross as a kind of trophy of conquest."

"How can you be so sure he's the one?" Fiona
asked.

"It took him awhile," Roy said looking back at
them archly, his lips pursed in a tight cryptic smile. "But eventually he
saw the value of a full confession."

"When did you find him?" Fiona asked.

"Late last night. There he was hanging out on 14th Street, just five blocks from here, wearing that cross, doing his pimp walk, proud as a
bantam rooster."

"How did you get him to come with you?" Gail
asked.

"Believe me, he had no choice."

"Why didn't you contact us last night?" Fiona
asked.

"I wanted to be sure he was the one."

"And now you're sure?"

"Beyond a reasonable doubt."

"Where's Gloria?" Gail asked.

"There."

He pointed to Gloria who stood in front of a wooden door,
apparently the entrance to the wine cellar. Her hands were folded into the
opposite arms of the cardigan she was wearing. She looked somber and troubled.

"Gloria's a witness, right Gloria?" Roy muttered.

She nodded. Fiona and Gail exchanged troubled glances.

"Why in there?" Fiona asked.

"No way out."

Roy reached for a heavy metal ring
on which dangled a key. Fiona noted that although the knuckles of his hands
were swollen and arthritic and part of the little finger of his left hand was
missing at its tip, the hands appeared sure and strong and worked smoothly. He
inserted the key in the lock, turned it and pushed open the heavy door. He
flicked a wall switch. The room exploded in harsh light.

There were a few dusty bottles scattered through the
shelves, but it was obvious that the room had not been used for years. In a
corner of the room, his face swollen, looking bug-eyed and frightened was a
naked black teenage boy. His body was a mass of cuts and bruises, his genitals
purple and battered. He was seated on a wooden chair, his ankles tied together
with wire. His arms reached behind the back of the chair where they were also
tied together.

His clothes were strewn in a pile on the floor and on the
pile was what Fiona assumed was Mrs. Shipley's gold cross.

"This is crazy, Roy," Fiona snapped. "Untie
that boy immediately."

"That's no boy. That's the monster who did this to
Madame."

Gloria had come in behind them.

"I recorded his confession," she said, removing a
tape recorder from the pocket of her cardigan.

"You were a part of this, Gloria?" Fiona asked.

She bowed her head and nodded.

"I don't know what you were thinking," Fiona
said, turning to Roy. "You can't do this."

"You had no right," Gail said, her anger rising.

"Don't talk to me about rights," Roy said. He looked at the boy. "Talk to this little bastard about rights, the right
of Madame to be alive today."

"This is nothing more than a lynching without
trial," Gail pressed.

"Lynching? He's still alive isn't he? I would have
killed him without a pang of conscience."

"I'm surprised you didn't," Fiona said.

"Why take him out of his misery so soon. I'd rather
see him suffer." He shot a glance at Gloria, who turned away.

"He should be charged with attempted murder,"
Gail persisted.

"We'll get to that Gail," Fiona rebuked.

"That's for sure," Gail said, pouting.

"You killed her, right Martine?" Roy's voice boomed. He turned toward Fiona. "His name is Martine Flowers. "Is
that your name boy, Martine? Flowers?"

The boy nodded twice.

"Raped her?"

The boy shrugged.

"You know what I mean. Tell them."

"I.... yeah.."

This time the boy nodded.

Fiona shook her head in despair. It was obvious that the
boy was too terrified to offer a denial. He had probably been pounded on for
hours.... which made the confession suspect.

"Better get him untied," Fiona said, as he and
Gail untied his ankles and hands. After he was untied, the boy tried to rise,
faltered, then fell on his knees on the stone floor. He was small and skinny.
Fiona knelt beside him, then turned to Gloria.

"Your sweater please," she barked. Frightened,
Gloria quickly removed her sweater and Fiona gently wrapped it around the boy's
shoulders. Joined by Gail, they lifted him back into the chair.

"You could have killed him," Fiona said after the
boy was seated.

"Considering your reaction, I wish I had," Roy said. "He did it. He confessed. We have it on tape."

"How old are you, Martine?" Gail asked gently.

"Fo'teen," the boy whispered. As he spoke, blood
came out of his mouth and rolled down his chin.

"You've got a problem, Roy," Fiona said cutting
him an angry glance.

"He got in the door in the rear of the house, came up
the back stairs, got into Madame's room killed her and raped her. Isn't that
right, Martine?"

The boy looked into Roy's face. He was still terrified.

"Tell them, you little son-of-a-bitch," Roy shouted.

The boy raised his hand as if to protect himself from
further blows.

"Don't tell him anything Martine," Gail cried.

The boy, still terrified, said nothing.

"Which side are you on?" Roy protested, then he
turned to Fiona. "It doesn't matter. We have it on tape."

"It may not be admissible," Fiona said.
"Could be thrown out of court. Besides, he's a juvenile."

"That didn't make a difference to Madame," Roy said.

"You've got a point," Fiona sighed.

Fiona's eyes were drawn to the boy's battered genitals.
They looked small, shriveled, and incapable of performing an act of forced
rape. Gail called for an ambulance on her cell. As she talked, Fiona patted the
boy's shoulder.

"There's help coming, Martine. They'll fix you up.
You'll be fine."

"Are you people mad?" Roy shouted, saliva
gathering on the corner of his lips. "He's confessed. We have it on tape.
He's guilty. What's wrong with you people? He came in here and stabbed Madame
to death. Then he raped her."

His sequence was surprisingly logical, although, as Dr.
Benson had told her: he couldn't be certain.

"You've scared him to death. He'd say anything just to
get you to stop." Gail said.

"I don't believe this." He looked toward Gloria.
"Are we the perpetrators now? What has happened to this country?"

Gloria looked confused and turned her eyes away.

"Why did he say he did it?" Gail asked, her eyes
narrowing as if it were a trap question.

"Why?" Roy shouted. "Tell them Martine. Go
on tell them!"

They all looked at the captured boy.

"Why?" Roy shouted again. "Tell them,
Martine. Go on tell them!"

"You don't have to Martine," Gail snapped.

Roy lunged suddenly, grabbing the
boy around the neck. Fiona and Gail grappled with him, pinning his hands behind
his back. He was surprisingly strong for a man his age. Gail cuffed him and he
calmed down.

"I wish Madame could see this," Roy croaked.
Fiona turned to Gloria.

"We had no choice, Gloria," Fiona said.

"Tell them about the five hundred dollars,
Martine" Roy hissed, shooting hateful glances at Gail and Fiona.
"Killed her and raped her for five hundred dollars."

"Is that true, Martine?" Fiona asked.

"It's coercion, Fi," Gail muttered.

"Did he, Martine?"

"Tell them you murdering bastard," Roy screamed.

"Man come in a car," the boy said as if he had
forgotten that Roy had been cuffed.

Fiona looked at Gail who turned away in anger.

"This is wrong," she whispered under her breath.

"Just pulled up and said here's five hundred dollars.
Go kill that old lady?" Fiona asked, incredulous.

"He come by an' asts me if I wanna make five hundert
dollahs."

"And you said what do I have to do to get that
money?"

The boy nodded.

"He say: You know that ole lady lives in the big house
down there."

"Did he say her name?"

"Ole lady lives in that big house all he said."

"And you know who he meant?"

"Yeah. Ev'ybody knows who she be."

"When was this when the man came? Night. Day. You
remember what day it was?" Fiona asked.

The boy shrugged.

"Night," he said.

"What day. You remember what day?"

The boy looked up listlessly and shook his head.

"Keep this up, he'll soon be denying everything,"
Roy said.

The boy cut a frightened glance at Roy.

"You can see he's been terrorized," Gail said.
"You really have to discount what he tell us."

"What else Martine?" Roy shouted. He turned
toward Gail and pursed his lips in anger. "You people..."

"Well we now know where this is coming from?"
Gail smirked.

"Can you believe this, Gloria?" Roy sneered.
"People like her are leading us straight to hell."

"Roy please," Fiona admonished, turning again to
the boy.

"Did he say when ... when you were supposed to....
"?

"Tell them Martine," Roy pressed.

Fiona, in a burst of anger, turned to face him.

"Can't you just shut your goddamned mouth, Roy?"

"I don't feel comfortable with this, Fi," Gail
interjected.

"We've got it on tape anyway," Roy said flushing.

Fiona turned again to the boy, who seemed confused by what
was happening around him. Fiona shot both Gail and Roy another look of rebuke.

"Now tell me what the man said Martine?" Fiona
asked, her teeth clenched with impatience and anger.

"I tole you. He give me fi' hundert dollahs and then
he say do that ole lady tomorrow night or he..."

"He said tomorrow night?"

"Or he...."

The boy lowered his head, his voice barely audible.

"Did he give you a time?"

"Bout then," the boy said.

"What time was it?"

"He looked at his watch and say ten."

"Pretty specific," Fiona said.

The boy shrugged.

"Or he what?" Fiona prodded. "...if you
didn't do it when he said."

"Or he come and do me."

"And what did you say to that Martine?"

"I say: Cool."

"You wanted that five hundred dollars. Right
Martine?" Roy said with a sinister chuckle.

"Anyone can see he's not responsible." Gail said.

Fiona ignored her remark, looked at the boy and shook her
head.

"That it? Just like that?" Fiona asked, puzzled.

"The bastard's proud of it," Roy mumbled.

"He's scared out of his mind," Gail interjected.

"He has no mind," Roy shot back.

"This man..." Fiona said. "You said you'd do
it then he gave you the five hundred dollars on the spot?"

The boy nodded.

"Told me to go on and do her tomorrow night at about
ten o'clock." Fiona repeated the assertion as if to underline it.

The boy nodded again. He did not look up.

"Or he would do you?"

"And he obeyed," Roy interjected. "Did even
more than he was supposed to. Didn't you, you little turd?"

"Were you afraid that he would come back and, as you
say, do you?"

Only then did the boy raise his head, his expression
defiant. Fiona detected not the slightest sign of contrition or regret.

"I weren't," he said with unmistakable boyish
pride. "Cause I knew I wuz gonna do it. You say you do somethin'. You do
it. I weren't gonna lose no respeck."

It struck Fiona suddenly that the boy had absolutely no
sense of the enormity of the crime. She exchanged glances with Gail, who looked
back at her with obvious outrage and shook her head. There was a kind of
resignation in the gesture as if she were surrendering under protest. Fiona
felt a disturbing sense of racial divide. Despite her discomfort, she knew she
had to ask the logical next question.

"Was he a white man or a black man?"

"I think he be a brother."

"Do you remember the kind of car it was?"

"Dark maybe."

"Dark? What does that mean? Blue, black, brown?
What?"

The boy shrugged.

"Jes dark. Black maybe. Big."

"And the man? Is there anything you remember about
him."?

"He jes a man."

"Big, small, light, dark?"

"He was in da car."

"Is there anything you remember about him?"

"He wore shades."

"At night?"

"Yeah."

"What was he wearing?"

"Had this hat, pulled down."

"What kind? Peak hat? What?"

"One a them soft hats pulled low."

"What did his voice sound like?"

"Like a brother."

"Are you sure?"

"He sound like a brother."

"Would you recognize him if you saw him again?"

The boy scowled and looked confused.

"How come he picked you Martine?"

"He got lucky," Roy said, smirking.

The boy shifted in the chair, shrugged and made a grimace
of pain.

"I been through this Sergeant," Roy said.
"Little bastard has only half a brain."

Fiona ignored him.

"Did this man ... in the car," Fiona asked,"
... did he say you should ... have sex with her?"

"He say do what I want but don't take nothin' unless
ah find some bread.... ya know ... like cash. Ony there weren't none in her
bag."

"So he raped her," Roy shouted angrily.

"Please Roy," Fiona said, putting up her hand
like a traffic cop directing traffic, glancing briefly at Gail, who stood
watching the scene in silence, pouting and morose. Fiona turned back to the
boy. "Why did you take the cross, Martine?"