A/N: This story takes place during Season 5 and opens with Brenda being called out during the night to a murder scene. But this one is more bizarre than most.
Chapter 1:
Brenda turned into the long driveway. Although the gates were open, yellow crime scene tape barred her entrance. She flashed her badge at a patrolman guarding the entrance and he raised the tape for her to pass. As she snaked between lush foliage and up the drive, the headlights of her car revealed a cluster of the chariots of the wealthy and ostentatious parked in the circle in front of the mansion. She pulled her Crown Vic into the middle of the drive and parked between a Maserati and a Jaguar. When her squad saw her arrive they all exited their cars. She saw her men stifling yawns so she said, "Time to wake up, everyone. We've got a job to do." She turned to the patrolman who had stepped up to meet them. "Officer, what have we got here?"
"A woman attending a Halloween party was was stabbed several times, Chief. The coroner's assistant is with the body now."
"Were you the first officer on the scene?"
"Yes. My partner and I got here at 1:14 AM."
As she put on booties and gloves she asked, "What do the witnesses have to say?"
"No one has talked to them. Our orders were to secure the scene and wait for you."
"All right, then. Show us the body, please."
They walked into a second floor bedroom and saw the victim, dressed in a Bride of Frankenstein costume and lying on the floor. She appeared eerily and peacefully asleep, eyes closed, and floating on pools of her own blood. Brenda noticed several lit candles placed nearby. There was a throw pillow under her head and her hands were folded over her chest. Kendall was trying to avoid the blood while he examined the body.
"Hello, Kendall. What can you tell me about our victim?" Brenda asked as she approached, gingerly avoiding the blood.
"According to the hostess who discovered the body, her name is Beverly Langston, mid-thirties, with multiple stab wounds. And her liver temp suggests she's been dead about an hour and a half to two hours."
"All right. Thank you." Brenda then turned to the patrol officer, "I need to talk to the witnesses. Are they all here?"
Kendall interrupted. "Wait, Chief Johnson." As Brenda turned around he continued, "She was holding this in her hand."
Brenda accepted one cufflink from him and examined it. "There are initials on it." She squinted and read "C… B," and handed it to Lt. Provenza saying, "We need to find out who is wearin' the other one."
As the squad interviewed each of the witnesses they all determined that no one was wearing cufflinks. No one saw Beverly or anyone else leave the main floor and no one heard any screams over the party sounds. Beverly's escort had no idea why she would have been targeted.
When the hosts, Nancy and John Sutcliff, were interviewed. Nancy explained through tears that she had noticed the upstairs hall light on so she went up to investigate. She saw candlelight flickering from a spare bedroom door left ajar. There should not have been any candles upstairs so she entered the room and discovered the body.
When Brenda asked about anyone at the party with the initials C B, John said that the only person with those intials was Curtis Bonsal. Nancy explained that Mr. Bonsal was a music mogul and that they were investors in his company.
"Which one of the guests is he?"
"Well, he and his wife left awhile ago and we, frankly, were relieved. I really like Fiona and occasionally we do lunch. As a matter of fact, it's ironic, but Beverly, Fiona and I had lunch just last week and we talked about the party. But Curtis has a difficult side. Believe me, if my husband didn't do business with him we never would have invited him."
"I can't believe that anyone would murder Beverly, though. And in our home, too. It's horrible," John added.
"It certainly is," Gabriel replied.
"What were Mr. & Mrs. Bonsal wearin' tonight?" Brenda asked.
"Fiona was wearing a sex kitten costume but he wore a tuxedo."
Brenda looked at the rest of the guests, all in costumes. "Didn't you find that strange?"
"Not for Curtis. He's always strange. And he can be nasty. Do you think he killed Beverly?"
"It's too early to say. We have to look at everyone here tonight," Gabriel answered.
When Brenda opened the interview room door, Lt. Provenza and a casually dressed, slender, goateed man in his 50s turned toward her. As she took her seat next to Provenza she introduced herself. "Good mornin', Mr. Bonsal. My name is Brenda Leigh Johnson. Has Lieutenant Provenza read you your rights?"
Curtis Bonsal looked at her and grimaced. "Yes, but I don't understand why you yanked me out of my home during the night and dragged me down here only to keep me waiting for hours."
"You're here because a woman was stabbed at a Halloween Party last night."
"I heard about that, but why are you arresting me?"
"You haven't been arrested, sir. You're here for questionin' because you have more than a passin' acquaintance with the victim."
"Yes, I knew her. So what?"
"How would you describe your relationship with Ms. Langston?"
"Beverly Langston worked for me a few years ago. She was in charge of talent development for my company."
"You are the CEO of PrismaColor Music, are you not?"
"Yes."
"And how long did Ms. Langston work for you, sir?"
"Almost three years."
"Did you also have a personal relationship with her?"
"I married her, if that's what you're getting at. When I was drunk. And I divorced the miserable bitch as soon as I sobered up."
"You were married for two years, Mr. Bonsal. That was a long drunk."
"That stupid bitch dragged out the divorce proceedings for over a year with her constantly changing demands. Believe me, the only way I could handle the whole sordid mess was to stay drunk."
"Accordin' to your divorce papers you were already involved with your next wife when you married Ms. Langston. And that relationship continued throughout your marriage to her."
"I've never denied it. But both bitches wanted money, and lots of it. I divorced them both."
"Accordin' to information I have here," Brenda indicated the file on the table, "You've managed to marry and divorce several 'bitches'. Six, in fact."
"I divorced four of them. One died before I could divorce her so she didn't get a dime, thank God. In fact, I got everything she had. I deserved it, too. And I haven't started divorce proceedings on my current wife yet."
"What about your other ex-wives? Where are they?"
"My first ex-wife lives in Marseilles. The only time she comes to the states is to sue me for more money. The other two live here in Los Angeles."
"Have you seen any of them recently?"
"No. But I received paperwork that Annabelle is also going to gouge me for more money."
"I'll need their contact information."
"I can give you the names of their blood-sucking shysters. You'll have to get what you want from them."
"Were any of your other ex-wives at the same Halloween party?"
"No. The air wasn't that foul. But what does any of this have to do with Beverly's death?"
"You were at the same party, Mr. Bonsal. Here's a picture of you at the party, but you're not in costume. You're wearin' a tuxedo."
"That tux was my costume. My wife suggested that I go as a gentleman. She said that no one would recognize me," he replied sarcastically. "I'll have to tell her that she was wrong. So what?"
"Because, Mr. Bonsal, it looks like your ex-wife fought back. She was found clutchin' a gold cufflink in her hand." Brenda pulled a plastic bag containing the blood-smeared cufflink and placed it on the table in front of him. "This link has your initials on it. You were wearin' it at the party last evenin'."
"We executed a search warrant of your home," Provenza added, "And guess what we found in your closet?"
Brenda put another plastic bag containing a matching cufflink on the table. When he saw it Curtis sat back and after a long disdainful stare said, "I lost it at the party. This is a setup. I want my lawyer."
"Fine, Mr. Bonsal. But first let me tell you that we're gonna detain you as a person of interest in the murder of Beverly Langston. Lieutenant, please give him your phone so he can make his phone call." With that she collected the evidence bags and left the room.
Cmdr. Taylor and the rest of the squad were watching from the Electronics Room and when Brenda entered, Taylor asked, "Chief Johnson, are you sure you have enough evidence to hold him?"
"He had motive, opportunity, and the victim gave us an evidence trail," and she watched the monitor as Lt. Provenza handed him his cell phone."
"Look, Brenda's instincts are pretty good. Let's give her some more time," Pope told a distressed Cmdr. Taylor who was standing in front of his desk.
"I agree with you about her instincts. And she believes that she has all the evidence needed to send this case to the DA. But I'm worried about media response. And if she's wrong, or if she took any shortcuts, the LAPD is going to pay for her mistakes. Besides, she didn't get a confession this time." When he saw Pope's scowl he added weakly, "I guess she doesn't need one, though."
"Brenda always needs a confession," Pope countered. "But I agree that she moved awfully fast."
"Sir, this man has a lot of power in the music industry. I grant you that he's wealthy enough to cover his tracks, but I think that acting so hastily could backfire and…" He paused when he heard a knock on the door.
"Come in."
"Will, I…" Brenda stopped when she saw Taylor.
"Brenda, I'm glad you're here. Why did you arrest Curtis Bonsal for the murder of his ex-wife?" Pope asked.
"I didn't arrest him. I'm havin' him held for 48 hours because the evidence fits and he's a flight risk," she replied.
Will wasn't convinced. "But unless you caught him holding the bloody knife, how can you be so sure?"
"What do you want me to do? Let him go so he can fly off to a country we don't have an extradition treaty with? Then the press would criticize us for lettin' him walk out of here when we had a good case. If you want me to let him go, I'll do it. Just write me a letter statin' that you're orderin' Bonsal released because you don't want bad press."
"No. That is not what I want. But I want you to solidify this case with more evidence before you send it to the DA's office."
Walking back toward the Murder Room, she grumbled, "He hired me to do a job but he second guesses me every time he thinks a news camera might be pointed in his direction." Then, as she turned the corner and saw her squad, she ordered, "Lieutenant Provenza, take the rest of the squad and search Bonsal's home and office again, includin' all his cars."
"What are we looking for," Provenza asked.
"Somethin' that proves Bonsal's motive besides his terrible opinion of every woman on the face of the earth. A bloody tux and a serrated knife would do nicely."
"Yes, ma'am. Boys, you heard her. Let's go."
That evening, Brenda just toyed with her dinner. She wanted to talk to Fritz but he was at a meeting so, after giving up on her plate, she got out the Langston case file and studied everything in it. Finally she heard the back door opening.
Fritz waded gingerly through the file papers to kiss his wife. "This case is on every station on the radio. Probably TV too," he observed, as he settled onto the couch beside her.
Brenda looked over her glasses at him and responded with a question, "Do you have time to help me?"
"Sure, but before I forget it, Charlie called earlier. She sounded upset. You need to call her."
She looked at the clock. "It's too late to call tonight. I'll call her tomorrow. What is she upset about?"
"She said that living at home isn't working out. She didn't ask, but I think she wants to come back here to live."
"Hmm. Maybe I should call Bobbie and Joyce first to find out what's going on before I talk to her."
"Brenda, she cannot come back here to live."
"Oh, I know that. But maybe I can help."
Fritz nodded and then refocused on his wife's case. "Now, what do you need?"
"Fresh eyes. It feels like I'm missin' somethin' and I can't see it."
He leaned forward to look at the photos. "Okay. Lay it out for me."
After she had presented the case, Fritz picked up the photographs of the bedroom crime scene and the cuff ink clutched in the victim's hands folded across her chest, as well as the matching cufflink obtained from Bonsal's closet.
As he examined the photos, Brenda asked, "Does anythin' jump out at you?"
"The murder scene is bizarre, like it was staged. The Bride of Frankenstein costume, the pose… It looks like an old Gothic movie."
"Well, it was a Halloween party. This whole thang is bizarre. But Beverly Langston was definitely murdered."
"The evidence sure looks pretty damning for Bonsal. You interviewed him, right?"
"Uh huh. This mornin'. Think pit viper, but without the charm. He is a disgustin' jerk who denied everythin' before askin' for his lawyer. And his attitude was bizarre too."
"What did he say?"
"He gave me his horrible opinion of women and his denial. That was about it. He didn't seem at all upset that she had been murdered. As a matter of fact, he almost seemed to be gloatin'."
"He didn't ask for his attorney right away?" When Brenda shook her head he explained, "Two years ago I interviewed him when the Bureau was looking into his company's finances. He's brilliant and very well aware of his right to his attorney. There would have to be a reason he didn't ask for his lawyer up front."
Brenda nodded and turned back to the photographs. "Look at this picture of the body. See how the killer folded the hands across her chest?"
"But he left critical evidence clutched in her hand? That doesn't make sense," Fritz observed.
"No, it doesn't. And look at her hand holdin' the cufflink. The fingers are barely closed around it."
"Maybe the killer planted the evidence after the fact."
"Uh huh. If he was gonna plant evidence, why would he use his own cufflink? And why would Bonsal keep the other one? Why wouldn't he ditch it on his way home? And why wasn't any blood found on any of his clothin'? Did he ditch his tux and keep the cufflink? Nothin' makes sense."
"You said he claimed that he was being set up?"
"Yeah, and this whole thang makes it seem like he is."
"Then why are you holding him?"
"Because of the physical evidence and his ability to leave the country. You know, there were probably lots of other people there who would love to get back at him by framin' him for a murder. But I can't see anyone else at that party actually doin' it, no matter how much they hate him. And, believe me, they all do. I'm positive he did it. Will is second guessin' me, though. He's so afraid of bad publicity when it comes to celebrity cases. And Taylor was pokin' around..."
"What are you going to do?"
"More interviews, I guess."
The next morning Brenda went to Pope's office but was told that he was going to be out of the office all morning. When she returned to the Murder Room she got everyone's attention. "Listen up, everyone. We've got a lot more work to do on the Langston case."
"We nailed Bonsal yesterday afternoon. What's left to do?" Flynn asked. "Write him up. Case closed."
"There are still thangs we need to know about this murder before we can charge him. Lieutenant Tao, do we have an autopsy report yet?"
"I spoke to Dr. Morales late yesterday afternoon. He said he'd have more information for us in a day or two. He did say that the victim was stabbed eight times with a single-edged, serrated blade approximately five inches long and about one half inch wide."
"A steak knife?"
"Possibly. A steak knife would be the right size."
"Chief, we confiscated all the kitchen knives. None of them apparently was the murder weapon, and the caterers said that none of them were missing. The set of steak knives was complete, too," Det. Sanchez added.
"Sergeant Gabriel, I think it's time that we met the incredibly lucky Mrs. Bonsal."
After Brenda and Sgt. Gabriel announced themselves, the large wrought iron gates swung open. They were met at the front door by Fiona Bonsal, a beautiful blonde in her mid-twenties. Brenda immediately noticed her elegant carriage and thought, She must be a model. What's she doin' wastin' herself on the likes of Curtis Bonsal? But she put her personal feelings about Fiona's husband aside and began. "Mrs. Bonsal, thank you for speakin' with us."
"Certainly. I want to help my husband in any way I can."
"I'm sure. Let's start at the beginnin'. How did the two of you meet?"
"I worked on a music video for one of his artists. We began dating immediately but we couldn't get married until Curtis' divorce became final."
"I see. Did you know that he was married when you began datin' him?"
"Not at first. When I found out, he told me that he wasn't happily married. I was the one who made him happy."
The familiarity of the situation struck a chord with Brenda but she set her feelings aside and continued with the interview. "Did you ever meet any of the previous Mrs. Bonsals?"
"Yes. I knew Beverly. And Francine is employed by my modeling agency. We aren't friends, but I've worked some events with her. They're the only two I've met. One passed away and one lives in France. I don't know anything about Anabelle except her name."
"You said that you knew Beverly. What was her relationship like with your husband?"
"Curtis doesn't get along with any of his ex-wives. But I always liked her."
"Oh? What was she like?"
"She was tough. She didn't let anyone get away with anything. I admire strong women."
"So do I, Mrs. Bonsal," Brenda smiled before changing the subject. "And how are you and Mr. Bonsal gettin' on?"
Fiona's smile disappeared as she chose her words carefully. "Curtis has been… stressed. One of his singers is trying to change labels and he's afraid he's going to lose a lot of money. He's having to sue to enforce the terms of the contract."
"Does he take his stress out on you?"
"Curtis takes his stress out on everyone, Chief Johnson. There's just no pleasing him when he's upset. He has a real persecution complex and he blames everyone else for his unhappiness."
"Do you think his unhappiness could lead him to kill Beverly?"
"No, never. It sounds strange, but for all his bluster Curtis is actually afraid of women. All I can think is that his mother must have been a real piece of work."
"Really."
"Yes, but this time he has a good reason to be angry. You see, he was served court papers. Beverly was going back to court for more money."
"Beverly was takin' him back to court? I thought Annabelle is the one suin' him."
"They both were. And when he got the papers he just went crazy."
"Crazy how?"
"Screaming and smashing things. I've never seen him do that. He loves his art. He feels his art collection is the only thing that gives him legitimacy. And he destroyed two of his favorite pieces."
After they left the Bonsal mansion, Gabriel asked, "Do you think she was aware that she can't testify against her husband?"
"She can't be compelled, Sergeant. I don't think compellin' will be an issue."
"She certainly didn't seem upset that her husband is being held for murder."
"I got the feelin' that they might not even be married by the time this case comes to trial."
That evening, Brenda updated Fritz on her case. "I don't know what to think about Fiona Bonsal. On one hand she expressed a loyalty to her husband. But when she described him she seemed full of distrust and downright contempt."
"I've met a lot of spouses who verbalized a loyalty that fell apart on questioning."
"Yeah, me too. But everythin' about this case is just off the wall. I wish I had a handle on even one aspect of it. I just know he's guilty but it still feels like we're goin' in the wrong direction," she mused as she looked at the photographs.
"I think we need to leave the Bride of Frankenstein alone for a little while. I'd like to concentrate on another bride," he whispered as he removed her glasses from her nose and began nibbling on her ear. So she responded in the only way she could. She turned to him and began kissing and caressing him.
The insistent ring of her cell phone brought Brenda slowly back to life. She struggled to focus her eyes on the clock. 1:30 AM. Reaching for the phone before Fritz woke up, she mumbled sleepily, "Deputy Chief Brenda Leigh Johnson."
"Brenda, it's Will. I'm sorry to call so late but there's been another murder at a Hollywood Halloween party."
To Be Continued…
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