Disclaimer: Any characters of Fullmetal Alchemist aren't mine. Warning! Some characters will be OOC Ummm…so this the second part of the case. The chapter is longer than the first one but I hope its fine. Forgive my French and I mean the actual French language. I trust that my friend gave me the correct form. She took it in high school. Lol… If not then please correct me.
…
"I beg your pardon? What does that mean?" It's way too early for brain crunches.
"It means what it means." This time her tone is obviously condescending. He's never hated talking to a woman before but there's just something about this one that gets his goat.
"Right, forget I asked. So who is–" He cuts off his sentence. He knows she'll just spout out some an obscure saying that doesn't even make sense.
"I found her in Calais." He's rather stunned by her straight answer.
"Oh? where's that."
"In France." She looks at him with a serious face so it's not apparent whether she is joking with him.
"In France? Seriously, Miss Riza. Where did you find her?" She says France again. He bites the inside of his cheek.
The tension between them is palpable. 'Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.' This goes on his head like a mantra.
Roy is so engrossed by his thoughts that he doesn't even see Hughes leave the interrogation room and enters the room he is in.
Hughes slaps him on back. "Roy, where the heck have you been? We might have finally hit a break with this case. The woman in question is Clarice Bessette. She owns a beauty shop, Calais in downtown China town. Her husband, Andre Bessette, is our third vic. She said she hasn't seen him for three weeks. He and his friends aren't getting any hit in CODIS or even in the Interpol or anywhere. They're all non-existent except for Mrs. Bessette." He adds more. "Also the gun you found yesterday was a match to our fifth victim but not cause of death. He was already decapitated after the shot."
This serial killer worked in strange patterns and nothing linked the men to each other. Hopefully this woman can shed some light to this case.
"How did she identify him? And why didn't she report him missing?" Hughes reveals a distinct photograph of a tanned arm with a cabalistic tattoo on it.
"This occult tattoo is on every one of our victims' right arm so I don't know how she could tell that's her husband but she's sure. To answer your second question, she claims that her husband does that often."
A pale finger points to a specific point in the photograph. "Angel. Mrs. Bessette knew what to look for. The others don't have that angel decoration."
Roy squints hard and sees a miniscule angel in the middle of a half circle. It rests on top of the bicep, surrounded by unique lines and symbols that are not discernable to anyone that doesn't know what they're looking at.
Basically, it's hiding in plain sight
"Our people didn't see this? How did you see this, Miss Riza?"
"I saw it because it is there. I would not have seen it if it was not there." She takes a blue container out of her bag. She opens the lid and sniffs it.
"You want some pickles?" The pungent smell of her food evades his nostrils. She pokes her pickled treat with a plastic fork and chomps on it.
"You are eating now?" He's not too fond of pickles. "That's disgusting." She tries to feed him one. "Hey! Get that away from me."
He moves his head to the right and then to the left. She won't relent.
As much as Hughes finds their playful antics entertaining, they have a killer to capture.
"Focus, you two." Hughes feels like a parent trying to control both of his children.
Roy has enclosed his hands around her wrist. "She started it." Hughes has never seen his partner like this. Roy is usually professional and focused in the work place.
"Never mind that. I need more answers but Mrs. Bessette keeps breaking down in hysterics and starts speaking in French." Then an idea pops up. "Miss Riza, your French earlier was perfect. Mrs. Bessette might be more comfortable speaking to someone in her own tongue."
Roy protests to this.
"Unless you can speak French Roy, I'm all out of options. Our translator is three hours away. We need to close this case already."
The longer they dawdle, the more likely the killer will become out of their reach. "Fine but one more question. Where…no who found Mrs. Bessette?"
"I did." She raises her palm. Her hazel eyes hold no trickery. She truly wants to help.
"Did you also happen to coincidently find her?" She smiles. Her pearly white teeth are practically glowing.
"I was in the neighborhood."
"Of course you were. I appreciate your help then, Miss Riza" He holds out his hand for a handshake.
She accepts it.
He'll give her the benefit of the doubt.
…
Yesterday before Roy left, he had their sketch artist, Alex Louis Armstrong draw a sketches of the victims that is more alive looking.
"Okay, Miss Riza. Ask her about Mr. Bradley." He places the picture of Mr. Bradley on the table.
"Madame, Avez-vous vu cet homme?"
"Non." The brunnette woman takes the Kleenex being handed to her. Clarice has never seen Bradley before but he can't simply be ruled out just yet.
"Avez-vous une photo de votre mari?"Riza asks for a picture of Mrs. Bessette's husband.
Clarice takes out a picture from her purse. The photo is creased from the folding. In it are the smiling faces Clarice and her husband. He's holding her safe in his arms.
His medium built and tanned skin corresponds to the third victim.
"Mon mari. Andre Bessette."
"Her husband." Riza examines the photo. It was taken near a light house. Clarice is holding a Three-flowered Avens.
"Mrs. Bessette, Okay, what about these four gentlemen?" He sprawls the drawings side by side with each other.
She inhales sharply and covers her mouth with shaky hands. Tears are cascading from her reddened cheeks like a black river.
"Ma'am, if you know anything, please we want to bring their killer to justice."
She recognizes all of them. "My husband's friends." Her accent is thick but understandable.
"My husband took me here to America because of…no" She pauses. She is searching for the right words. "For a better life. His friends followed. They were all good men." Riza could sense a "but" in that sentence.
"We are like family. All of us."
"Mrs. Bessette did your husband and his friends have any enemies? Do you know anybody who would want him or his friends dead?" Roy tries to look into her eyes but she pries hers from cur
Clarice shifts her eyes away from the pictures. It's breaking her heart. "Non."
"There's something she's keeping from us." Roy pulls Maes aside.
"I know Roy but it's not like we can threaten her. Maybe we should give her break for now."
"Sept. What does that mean to you?" Riza suddenly speaks ups. She directly stares at the grief-stricken woman's emerald eyes. "Sept?" A memory from weeks earlier invades Clarice's mind.
"Remember what I told you. I will protect you." She closes her eyes to rid of the voice. Riza tilts her head to the side.
"Blaise Bergeron." She says. This man's name has an impact on her. Her breathing become even.
"My husband lost contact with him a year ago. I haven't seen him since but since you brought it up, I might as well say something. My husband called him fou. It means lunatic. Blaise is not in his right mind. " When she said this, her voice didn't waver. Just a moment ago, she was panicked and unsteady. Her words felt rehearsed. Riza became more fascinated.
"This is the only known addresses I know he has before we lost in contact." Hughes accepts the ripped out piece of paper. The home address bewilders him. It's King Bradley's place of residence.
Roy's cell phone rings. "Excuse me."
"What? We'll be there." He snaps his phone shut.
"We got another body."
…
When Roy got there, his team is already there taking pictures and bagging and tagging anything that can be of use.
The body is on the sidewalk, outside the penetrating rays of the sun. It's in the middle of the afternoon and sweat begins to slide down on Roy's back.
'If there's going to be any dead bodies, why can't they be in a nice refreshing air conditioned room.'
Hughes and he had no choice but to split up to cover more track. Hughes is going to pick up on their other lead and check out Bradley's house. If he's lucky, Blaise could be back. He's going to be bringing along the owner of the house with him. Fortunately, Mr. Bradley hasn't been a problem yet. He remains cooperative with the police, and answers every question brought to him to the best of his ability.
Roy on the other hand, his destination is to The South Bronx. To his chagrin, Riza tagged along for the ride.
The victim was found in a nearby building by The Hub, the miniature time square of The South Bronx.
"Eyewitness said that the man just fell from the sky. We say he fell from up there." Officer Heymans Breda points up to the exposed 7th floor window of a small grayish apartment building. The ivory curtains are disturbed and stained.
The onlookers behind the tape are trying to have a look see at the scene before them. Most of the people have shopping bags on their hands and is taking pictures from their phones.
Problem is they're crowding too much.
"Officer Breda. Keep any civilians out of here." Breda mentions the blonde woman squatting near the body. She lifts up the cover and raises her brow.
"Don't worry officer. She's with me." Breda accepts this and follows his orders.
"Mr. Detective, this one has a head." The man with the head smells like paint.
"Perceptive, aren't you sweetie?" Rebecca winks at her friend. Apparently she is also part of Team Mustang.
"I hope you two don't know each other." Roy crosses his finger. To his dismay, she does confirm they're friends.
"Relax Detective. I still answer to you and the Chief. Riza is extra help. Fury and I will take this poor soul back to the Lair. We'll find more there. There's a possibility he's not related to the recent killings." The Lair is her name for the crime lab. "Oh one more thing!" She places a manila folder into his calloused hand. "Hope that helps!"
"Thanks and you do that Catalina. We'll stay here a little longer."
"Miss Riza, we should check the apartment he fell from." Riza looks past the detective's head and stumbles on someone who is surveying the scene instead of just observing curiously like the other spectators.
"Miss Riza? Did you hear me?" He waves his hands in front of her hands.
The dubious man notices her eyes on him. He pulls up his hood and turns his heels to the opposite direction, away from the crime scene.
"Miss Riza?" She follows him without even glancing at Mustang. She cuts around the crowd.
"Miss Riza! What is up with her?" When he catches up, she's already at the end of the street. The sidewalk is remotely empty since everyone else is back at the crime scene. You'd think a street performer is there with the large crowd its gathered.
He sees her turn left, on what it seems to be an alleyway.
"Miss Riza!" He calls out to her but she doesn't turn his way. "I swear. She has a loose screw in there somewhere." He jogs there.
"Riza?" Her back is to him. Roy never saw it coming.
It happened so fast. She was talking to a man and next thing you know she is pulled into a chokehold when the detective appeared.
On instinct, Roy zero in on the man with his pistol.
The hooded man's serrated knife is dangerously near Riza's neck.
However, she's calm and collected. The man clearly over powers her and it won't do her any good to panic.
"Let her go." Roy notes the attacker's unguarded leg. He could aim for that.
The man suddenly starts speaking in French. Roy can't interpret what he is saying.
"It's all right Mr. Detective. He said to put your gun down. He will let me go. This man, he is related to Andre Bessette." He whispers something in her ear. She responds in English.
"Mr. Detective, please put the gun down. He has information he wants to divulge." He pushes down the hammer of the gun.
"Does he now? Let her go first, and then we'll have a nice chat. We can even talk about our feelings if you want." Sarcasm is evident in his voice.
No noise. No scuffle. The world seemed to come into a screeching halt.
Without warning, the hooded man drops the knife on the asphalt and kicks it to the side. He surrenders.
He slowly moves forward to Roy and gently shoves her to him. "If you don't mind, I'm going to have to restrain you." The man doesn't struggle as Roy handcuff him.
Roy's concerned eyes wander on her neck. The knife had grazed her skin.
"Are you all right?"
"I'm fine Mr. Detective; he didn't mean to hurt me. Thank you for your concern."
…
"Okay Astin. You have my undivided attention. Speak." Roy brought him down to the station. Astin Bessette, the younger brother of Andre, was stoic during the car ride.
Astin looks to be in his early 20s. His built and features are the same as his brother. His chestnut hair is the only thing that differed from his brother. Andre had a more copper colored hair.
"I was there to visit Blaise but you were there already." His accent isn't as thick as Clarice's. He stares at his lap, ashamed about something. He makes no eye contact with Roy and if he has to look at someone, it would be Riza.
"He didn't mean to kill anyone. All of us. We're family." He fists up the material of his pants in his hand but remains compose. "But it wasn't supposed to be like this. Coyne, Darell, Gaston, Clarke. Did Blaise kill them?"
"That's what we're trying to figure out. " Roy waits patiently for him to talk again. The pair's eyes are on Astin's trembling figure.
"About three weeks ago, I came in Blaise apartment and my brother was already lying there, drowning in the pool of his own blood. Blaise was holding a bat. Blaise told me to leave the room because he'll take care of everything. " His Adam's bobs up and down.
'This boy' Riza thought. 'He's not telling the whole truth.' She should instigate him. She has no doubt in that her Mr. Detective will hop on board with her plan.
Roy hasn't known Riza for very long, actually it's just been two days but there it is. That glint in her eyes that says she knows something he doesn't.
"What else Astin? There's more to your story. Did Blaise tell you to tell us this just in case we catch up with you? Don't protect a murder. Are you protecting a murder?" She spoke in a hushed whisper at the end.
'I get it. All right.' Roy changes his facial visage to appear more unpleasant. He can't afford to play nice anymore.
His shoulders tenses and starts fidgeting on his seat. Right on a cue, Roy joins in.
"What is it Astin? Is she right? Who are you protecting, Astin? Is protecting this man worth your family's life? Worth yours?" Roy slams his hands on the table. Astin flinches at the loud bang and automatically looks up at the detective.
"If you were all family, why would he kill them? Why would he murder them all, Astin?" Roy's intimidating tone is starting to weaken Astin's resolve.
He sniffs. "I don't know. I don't know. Andre and sis were arguing. There was shouting. Blaise was there and sis told me to go out so I did and…and… I heard some weird noises so I went back in and my brother was dead. There was so much blood. He wouldn't stop. Even after I told him to stop." He clutches his head and shakes it feverishly.
"Hey calm down."
Roy displays the four other victim's portraits. "Do you know them?" He nods his head. Astin has a foreboding feeling about what he's going to find out next.
"I'm sorry, Astin. They're dead." The young man holds his head down.
A knock on the door interrupts them. "Detective Mustang, I'm sorry to bother you but this woman wanted to talk to you."
Clarice is outside the door. The moment her eyes locks on her trembling brother-in-law's, she rushes to him and holds him against herself.
She says something to him in their native language.
"Mrs. Bessette, you lied to us. Astin here claims your husband and you have been arguing. You also said you lost touch with Bergeron. I don't think you are being honest with us."Clarice rubs the younger Bessette's back and smiles at him.
"I...There is nothing I could say that can forgive my actions. We were arguing about something so stupid. We fought and I don't know what came over me. I pushed him. He hit something. He stopped moving. My husband would never hurt me...I"
She swallows the bile threatening to rise up. " The others found out but I didn't expect he had plans to kill them. It was so stupid. What we were fighting over, so stupid." She places her palm flat on the metallic table. "Please, Astin has nothing to do with this. He's going to be somebody. Let him go."
"Do you know where Blaise is Mrs. Bessette?" Roy questions her. He's not happy he has to arrest her but murder is murder. But, there is still a chance that she is covering for Blaise.
"Right behind you." His white hair slicked back, his voice, void of any emotions. Hughes has him at the back of his collar, holding him in place.
"Roy, look who I found. He was down in the basement." Blaise wears a clean cottoned collar shirt, and also donning a crease-free black dress pants. His shoes are polished to the nub and his eyes are covered by a perfectly circular spectacle. Its tint is darker than night itself.
"Blaise Qu'est-ce que toi tu fais ici?" Clarice doesn't sound too happy to see him.
"Come now Clarice, you know exactly why I'm here. I'm here turn myself in." A smirk arises from his lips.
"Bergeron I presume. Nice of you to join us." Roy gestures his hands to a chair. Blaise sits on it. His stride was arrogant, his body language proud and stuck up.
"It is nice to meet you, Detective. Whatever Clarice had told you, she was lying. I told her to say that. I killed them all. I killed that man you found in The Bronx. That was a shame but his use had been long over its due." Roy removes Blaise's sunglasses. Red eyes now stare at him with wicked intent.
"So you killed them. Even Andre? The people you called family, you killed them? Why?" As lead detective of this case, he wants to catch the killer as much as the next guy but he needs to be sure that he arrests the actual criminal. Blaise Bergeron claims he is killer but Roy is not fully convinced.
"Why not, Detective? A man will do anything to save the woman he loves. The rest got too nosy. I didn't want to get caught. Not yet at least. I drowned then cut their heads off with wire saw."
He laughs. He throws the same wire he used. The silver the wire is clean. "I wanted to keep it for souvenir."
The noise of a door opening and closing echoes in the room but Roy pays is no heed.
"Do you require a lawyer, Mr. Bergeron?" Blaise slowly move his head left to right. His grin never leaves his pale face.
"No, just arrest me."
…
"There is strange after taste about this case." Hughes takes a swig of the whiskey in front of him. After the arrest, the men went to their usual hang out place, The Trident. Business in the Trident booms especially at night.
Roy agrees with that. He advised Mrs. Bessette and Astin to stay in town just in case something else comes out. Blaise will remain lock up for the meanwhile.
His motive confuses Roy. Jealousy is an ugly thing but if Blaise wanted to get rid of witnesses, why not kill the younger Bessette as well.
His thoughts suddenly drift on the duffel bag by his feet. Roy had completely forgotten what Rebecca had given him earlier this afternoon. He opens the beige fold and there are recent document findings about the case.
"Apple juice?" He flips to the next page. It's written that Rebecca had found several bottles that stood out from the others in a cabinet of Bradley's basement. Four of the bottles have saliva traces are consistent with the DNA of the victims, with the exception of the sixth victim. It had contained apple juice. There is also an unknown male's finger print on certain bottle that had the date: May 16 1998.
"Potassium Cyanide? Poisoned? They were poisoned Hughes." Hughes reads over his shoulder.
"So can we assume that Bergeron poisoned them? Even Andre. So they weren't drowned. Any traces of the poison must've vanished."
'That Catalina' Roy hissed her name in his mind. He simply had forgotten with all that happened earlier but usually Rebecca gives him a manila folder containing an issue of Celebrity Gossip. She does it as a joke and even goes to the trouble of attaching it on the folder so he didn't think anything of the it.
Slightly exasperated, he downs the rest of his scotch.
He could hear his rhythmic beat of his ringtone.
"Mustang." It's Riza. "How'd you get this number?" He hears a gunshot in the background. "Miss Riza? Where are you?" He hears more firing. Alarmed by this, he goes outside and into his car.
"Stay on the phone with me. What do you mean you're fine?" A distraught man's voice he doesn't recognize chimes in.
" Who's that and why are you at King Bradley's house?" She hangs up.
" Hughes! Let's go!"
…
When the detectives arrived, a parked car is already on the driveway. The silver vehicle is the expensive luxury car, The Neron. Roy would know, he's been dreaming about it for awhile.
'Could that be her car?'
A statuesque man comes out of the front door. His physique is quite muscular, his muscles bulges out from his clothes. He stands guard in front of the door. His action is like a bouncer at a bar.
"Mr. Detective. Detective Hughes. I'm glad you're here. I got it. I figured it out." Riza pops up from behind holding in her gloved hands a well preserve…head.
"Miss Riza, where did you find him?" It's Andre. His serene features makes it look like he was sleeping.
Riza takes the detectives to the living room. It's not much of a living room since there is no furniture. There's just a single grand fireplace and paintings on the walls. Seven paintings to be exact.
"I borrowed this." Her tall friend holds the folder file for the case up. It was on his desk.
"You mean you stole it." She smiles. She purses her lips and points to the direction of the fireplace. She is pointing to the big gaping hole near it.
As he advances closer, he could see there's a metallic square door in the hidden compartment. There is a slight chill and he now knows why.
It is a small refrigerator. It was locked before. An odd place to put it in but this is where Andre had been hiding in. There is also flower in the refrigerated box.
Somehow Riza discovered this. He glances at the painting near him.
It's a field of flowers, with the sun setting on the bac. The same flower in the refrigerated. Someone's initial is on the bottom right hand corner.
A.B.
He studies the room more carefully. This portrait is the only one made by A.B.
"What does this have to do with the murd-"
"I saw this yesterday but I couldn't figure out the lock combination."
"You could have–"
"I know but I wanted find the code."
"You should've have told me."
"But you arrested me before I had the chance."
"I did not arrest you."
"Did too."
"Did not."
"Did too."
Hughes interrupts their little squabble again with a deafening whistle.
"So what is the code then?" Hughes asks.
"0 5 1 6"
…
Roy received a call from Rebecca when he arrived at the station. She informed him that the sixth victim is Jacob Rauser. There is an abundant amount of water in his lungs but there are also traces of potassium cyanide.
On their way over, Riza had shared her theory. Blaise's whole motive puzzled her too. Why go to the trouble of covering your tracks just to turn yourself anyway at the end? He could have absconded but he stayed.
"Is there a reason why I'm here again Detective Mustang? You interrupted my meal." Blaise leans back on the chair. Being chained up didn't faze him. He seems almost satisfied with himself. Going to jail doesn't bother him at all.
So what can Roy do to break his composure?
"You are here Mr. Bergeron because I wanted to talk." From the window on the door, Blaise could see Hughes guiding the handcuffed Clarice somewhere else.
"What are you doing? I told you I did it. I killed them not her." His voice sounded strained.
"I believe the facts Mr. Bergeron. The evidence. Sure you killed the painter. I believe that but you only help killed your friends. Mrs. Bessette, she was the one who did the deed. Then she cut them up, not you. She told us where she kept her husband's head. It was behind a painting."
The bearded friend of Riza's enters the room, carrying the painting. "A sentimental act but nonetheless her guilt overwhelmed her and finally told us real truth. You only disposed the body, she did everything else." Blaise bashes his head on the table. He created a small dent on it.
He starts laughing maniacally. "No you are lying. Because I was the one who killed them. I had already poisoned that damn Andre. He was drunk because I spiked his drink. I was in another room when I heard them shouting." Blood glides down from his head, blinding his left eye.
His gravelly voice heightened. "I came in the room and I saw her shoved him once. He wasn't in his full strength and stumbles back and hit his head on a clothes hook. The poison had already taken effect and he was foaming at the mouth."
"She went to the bathroom and I heard her vomiting. I took Andre's favorite baseball bat and hit him with it. It felt liberating! He had the woman I loved and he didn't deserve her. The others poked their asses into something that didn't concern them but they thought she killed him. They wanted to turn her in."
"You said I had a family. I never did. They hated Clarice, they never accepted her. Only tolerated her for Andre. I kept Astin alive because he is the only one who genuinely appreciated her." He doesn't stop his crazed hysteric cackle.
"The painter. Why kill him then?" Roy lays a photo of Jacob Rauser's deceased corpse flat on the table.
"Him? I found him by chance in a bar. He was a house designer of a business who's hardly home. I got him drunk and got an address. I needed some place to stuff the bodies. A place that could not be disturbed by the police. The house has a large distance from another the other house so it was perfect."
Something clicked in Roy's ears. He recoils back a bit. "So you made it look like a serial killing. Congratulations, you got what you wanted. But why the number seven?" Blaise sneered at the detective.
"The designer thought it was a lucky number. It wasn't me. I'm impressed you caught that, Detective. I didn't think it was obvious. Now take me to jail. I have enough of this."
Roy directs Officer Breda and another officer to bring him back to his cell. He'll be transferred to a larger prison in the morning. He'll stay there until his trial.
The door hasn't been opened yet.
"Wait, Bergeron. Mrs. Bessette, she was scared that she had killed her husband. You used that to your advantage didn't you? You only wanted her to see you and only you. Now, she really is looking at you." Blaise closes his ear. He hears nothing. Not anymore.
The door opened and as the officers drag him out, Clarice waits and looks at him with unmistakable betrayal in her eyes.
"Clarice. No. No." "No" lingers in his mouth.
…
"Nice work, Mr. Detective. You and your team did good work." Riza and Roy stands in front of the station. The evening went by fast without a warning. After a job complete, Hughes hurried home to his pregnant wife.
A murderer is in jail and Roy could sleep soundly, until the next creep rises that is.
"No, thank you Miss Riza. You gave me quite an earful." He taps the earpiece imbedded in his ear.
He outstretched his hand. She accepts it. He glances at her gorilla friend by her car.
"Who is that?" He spoke like he was telling a secret to her.
"My nanny."
She waves a final goodbye.
"Wait!" She turns around to his call.
"You never explained "one but not five but clearly seven" means."
"I told you Mr. Detective. It means what it means. It's up to you how you want to interpret it."
…
Finito…So yea…
Please, make sure to write down any constructive criticism. I always aim to improve. :D If you're confused about any parts of the first two chapters, voice your question (Pm me or review to this chapter). Umm…thank you for reading! :D