Chapter 3.5
July 25th 1993 (Two weeks later)
"...And I'm telling you it was 1933!" Mrs Appleby's voice hollered across the store, the grating tone beginning to annoy Tiffany as she hurriedly stacked the shelves of canned goods. The quicker the better as far as she was concerned, the heat was one thing, but the incessant nagging of her 'Hitler-like' supervisor would have made a saint swear, as Tiffany argued her corner, the old lady spitting bile right back.
"You're wrong." Tiffany pulled a disgusted face and shook her head, pausing for a fleeting second before returning to her laborious duties. "Babe Ruth called that shot in 1932. I know he did. My boyfriend was a huge Cubs fan, I don't think he'd get something as embarrassing as that wrong."
"Were you alive back in the early thirties you stupid, little bitch?" Mrs Appleby sniped, the bite in her voice cutting slightly.
"Obviously not." Tiffany laughed as she carried on working, not even bothering to turn around.
"Exactly." Mrs Appleby leaned back in her chair, a smug look appearing on her features as she sat behind the cash register. "Well I was, and I'm telling you babe Ruth hit that shot in 1933. Game three, World Series, long home run to the centre."
"Whatever." Tiffany laughed. "Don't you have 'anything' better to do with your time than argue with me about a baseball game from sixty years ago? Don't you have any friends you can go annoy? Or is that a stupid question?"
"Friends are overrated." Appleby mumbled to herself, sneering as she lowered her eyes to the ground.
"Jesus, no wonder you're all bitter and twisted." Tiffany began, quickly emptying the boxes of canned food. Beans, peas, tomatoes and all manner of goods beginning to line the shelves of the store as her hands frantically worked.
"Just what exactly is that supposed to mean?" Appleby lifted her head and asked.
"All you do is sit there, every day, same seat, same shit, telling me what a shitty job I do." Tiffany snarled, still not turning and seeing the shock on Mrs Appleby's face. "Then at night, you sit behind that curtain spying on me. And don't deny it, because Joe saw you."
"So lover boy tells you something and you lap it up?" Appleby laughed, her voice croaking as her laughter turned to a dry cough, her frail arm reaching for the glass of water sitting upon the counter.
"I don't know why you have to be so hard on him." Tiffany asked. "If you just gave him a chance. Invite him in..."
"I'm inviting that lecherous fuck nowhere." Appleby snapped between gulps of water. "I saw the way he looked at you, out in the barn that day."
"Meaning?" Tiffany asked, startled.
"You know what I mean. He looked at you the same way he looked at all the girls I've had."
"And what way is that exactly?"
"Like a god damn lion stalking a fucking deer." Appleby's voice quietened. "You mark my words young lady, you'd do well to remember who's in charge around here at times. Don't forget I can dial 911 in a heartbeat. So if I say jump, you ask..."
"...how high." Tiffany finished the sentence, rolling her eyes as she did, glancing into the parking lot and seeing the familiar sight of Rita's sedan through the store front window.
"Exactly." Mrs Appleby smiled, nodding with a smug satisfaction.
"Well if you're going to report me to the authorities for going on a date then now's your chance." Tiffany said dryly, dropping to her knees and beginning to break the plethora of cardboard boxes down. Within a minute Rita swung the door to Appleby's Store open, entering and allowing a gentle summer breeze to follow on behind, cardigan held delicately over her forearm as she gave Tiffany a forced smile and looked in Mrs Appleby's direction.
"Ladies." Rita beamed, Mrs Appleby looking up and returning the smile, throwing in a wave for good measure. "How are we today?"
"Rita my dear girl." Mrs Appleby smiled, sweetness resonating from within as she turned the charm up to eleven. "How are you?"
"I'm good thanks Mrs Appleby." Rita answered cheerfully. "How are you doing?"
"Oh I keep going. But only just." The old girl gushed, placing her glass of water by the register as she stood and began to shuffle into the aisle.
"And you Tiffany?" Rita turned and looked down, her cardigan flaring out as she did, the small draft making Tiffany's hair flutter slightly, the long, golden ponytail hanging gloriously over her shoulder.
"Not bad." Tiffany sighed, nodding over her shoulder at the approaching frame of the old woman, her demeanour changing the second Rita entered the building.
"That's good then." Rita replied, turning back to Mrs Appleby and beginning to make her way towards her.
"We were just having quite the discussion about baseball you know." Mrs Appleby pulled her thin apron tighter around her waist, her wrinkled stockings sagging around her calves as she slowly shuffled along.
"Oh really?" Rita seemed surprised, turning from Appleby to Tiffany and then back again.
"A little bit of a debate to be honest." Appleby laughed.
"Little bit?" Tiffany turned, stunned as she knelt between the battered squares of cardboard.
"It was nothing really." Mrs Appleby said, ignoring Tiffany as she turned back to Rita. "About Babe Ruth's called shot in the World Series."
"Oh yeah." Rita cast her eyes upwards, her hand gently cradling her chin as her thumb and index finger began to massage her cheeks. "Cubs versus Yankees? World Series, game three. October 1st 1932 if I'm not mistaken."
"Ha!" Tiffany spun on her knees and goaded Appleby, pointing as she did so, a wide grin showing her full set of pearly white teeth.
"Really?" Appleby asked, Rita taken aback by Tiffany's reaction as she calmly returned her attention to the old woman.
"Never been surer of anything in my life." Rita answered. "My dad was a massive Cubs fan. Ever since the trip over from Mexico. At first it was a way to fit in, but pretty soon it became a full blown obsession. Drove my mother nuts."
"Well I'll be..." Appleby's eyes sunk further into her skull, Tiffany beaming from the floor as various foods surrounded the trio of women. "I could've sworn..."
"Don't worry about it." Tiffany waved her hand, shrugging away the thickly veiled apology. "Things are expected to get a little cloudy at your age."
"Ouch." Rita chuckled, noticing the look of surprise on Mrs Appleby's face.
"I'll have you know," Mrs Appleby started. "That age is nothing but a number."
"Speaking of which, how old are you exactly?" Tiffany asked, concentrating as she scooped up an arm full of cardboard and rose to a standing position.
"That's none of your business." Mrs Appleby snapped, lifting her nose in the air and screwing her lips together. "Now how about you do something useful like making a drink for Rita and me?"
"What a surprise." Tiffany sighed, air escaping her lungs, arms full as she made her way between the two ladies. "Two teas?"
"Please." Rita smiled, eyes following Tiffany as she made her way to the rear of the store, the small kitchen waiting in the background. Although time had made it easier, Rita still had to smile through gritted teeth, the fury held back as she focused and patiently awaited the light at the end of the tunnel. Full trust in her friend, Will, as he worked behind the scenes to bring more to the table, hopefully something solid as Rita ventured forward, the burning feeling deep within only quelled by an ending that resulted in Tiffany Valentine back behind bars.
For Harry Marsh...
And whoever else.
Over the course of half an hour Rita and Mrs Appleby exchanged various details and paperwork regarding Tiffany. Time sheets, stories, even the odd doubt as to whether or not her life could ever be the same again, Mrs Appleby proclaiming her the sweetest girl ever to grace her house, Rita urging her not to be so trusting, not to let her guard drop even for a second. It was as they were talking, the peacefulness of the empty store not seeming to bother Mrs Appleby, that Tiffany emerged from the back door, arms laden with boxes as she carried a delivery from the waiting truck outside, the shelves in one section of the small, rustic business almost bare, the recent bad weather restricting traffic, none more than the high sided vehicles baring deliveries.
"She 'seems' happy enough." Rita turned in Tiffany's direction and bit her lip.
"She should be." Appleby looked up from her cup of steaming hot earl grey, her usual sugar coated tone missing for a split second, surging into life as she carried on. "She has a 'gentleman' friend."
"Really?" Rita spun, surprise rife in her words.
"Why yes." Mrs Appleby laughed. "Is that alright?"
"I guess so." Rita shrugged her shoulders. "Nothing in the rules about that."
If anything this was welcome news. The fact Tiffany had some form of ongoing romance made it all the more likely she had no plans to jump ship in the middle of Rita's mini investigation and disappear into the night. As the two women finished their drinks, and as Tiffany merrily hummed to herself as she worked her shift, a low rumbling noise suddenly invaded the interior of Appleby's store, followed a split second later by a high pitched beeping, the two short pulses singing out, broken only by a small pause, before once more chiming out again. Puzzled, the three women turned and observed their surroundings, each of them at a loss as the vibrating tune played out time and again, Mrs Appleby the first to speak as she focused on the store counter.
"Is that coming from your bag my dear?" She asked, Rita stunned as her hand shot out and grabbed the soft leather of the bag sat on the store counter. As she grabbed it, the answer became all too clear, embarrassment rippling through her as she quickly unzipped the bag and reached inside, withdrawing her arm to reveal a pager. As the low pitched rumble of the vibrating pager shook her arm from hand to elbow, the small device rang once more, Rita suddenly depressing a small button and reading the number stamped across the LCD display. As Tiffany observed from the other side of the store, she noticed the look in Rita's eyes, lighting up like the fourth of July as a smile appeared across her lips, quickly disappearing as Rita immediately sought to gather herself.
"Stupid thing." She laughed, placing it back in the darkness of her bag. "Keep forgetting I have one. I never use it."
"What on earth is it?" Mrs Appleby asked innocently.
"Just a pager." Rita answered honestly. "It's for emergencies, if I'm needed etc..."
"My goodness, is there an emergency?" Mrs Appleby asked in horror, placing her cup upon the surface of the store counter.
"No, no, we're good Mrs Appleby." Rita laughed, noticing Tiffany out of the corner of her eye. She had stood, eyes fixed on Rita, for the past minute now. Not moving, not saying a word, Rita wasn't even sure if she had drawn a breath since the pager vibrated into life, but she was taking no chances now as she focussed on Mrs Appleby.
"So long as everything's alright." Appleby smiled. "You gave us all a fright then."
"Would I be okay to just use your phone?" Rita asked, pointing beyond Mrs Appleby and towards the small office out back, the scene of so many meetings with the old woman this last few years.
"Why of course." Mrs Appleby replied, waving her through. "You take all the time you need my dear."
Thanking Mrs Appleby and entering the office, Rita turned and closed the door, looking up briefly to find Tiffany's eyes still locked on her, unable to return her gaze as Rita dropped her head again, too afraid of giving anything away as the door clicked shut. Marching across the rough, wooden floor, Rita perched herself along the edge of Mrs Appleby's desk and grabbed the phone, twisting it to face her as she lifted the receiver from the cradle and dialled automatically, listening for the line to spark into life, the crackling of static as she waited in abject silence. Two rings and the line opened up, the voice low as it spoke, nothing much, but a whisper as it called her name.
"Rita?"
"Yes." She answered. "What do we have?"
"You need to get over here." Will's voice was practically inaudible as it spoke, quiet and straining over the static along the line, multiple voices heard in the background.
"You have something?" She asked once more, her own voice low.
"We have..."
The voice started, taking a pause before continuing.
"...Everything..."
"You're kidding." Rita beamed, the volume of her voice raising as she spoke.
"Get over here as soon as you can." Will's voice became clearer. "I'm working late, but be quick. I don't want this noticed."
"I'll be there as quick as I can." Rita gushed, the phone halfway back to the cradle, quickly pulled back as she spoke once more. "Thanks Will."
Hanging up the phone, Rita felt a trepidation as she breathed deeply and approached the door, yanking it open and finding Appleby's store deserted. No Tiffany. No Mrs Appleby. No customers. Nobody. Closing the office door behind her, Rita approached the counter and collected her bag, calling out into the barren interior.
"Mrs Appleby?" She called.
No answer.
"Tiffany?" She called again, louder.
Nothing.
Lifting her arm and pulling back the sleeve of her cardigan, Rita looked at the time on her watch. Mid afternoon and with a two hour drive back into the city, if she was lucky, Rita realised the importance of time and headed to the front entrance of the store, pulling open the door and letting the bell above ring out, hopefully drawing either Mrs Appleby or Tiffany from their hiding places, giving her a chance to say her goodbyes before leaving. Nobody appeared, Rita wasting no more time as she crossed the threshold and headed to her car, the sunlight bouncing from every inch of steel, blinding as she quickly unlocked the door of the sedan and climbed inside. From the phone call moments ago, she had every reason to rush, although she had no idea how much, one thing playing on her mind slightly.
What exactly did Will mean?
'Everything'?
Emerging from the restroom, standing in the front window of Appleby's store, Tiffany watched as the sedan pulled into the street and turned toward the interstate. Birds chirped in the trees as the warm afternoon sun beat down across Mount Carroll, shadows dancing across the parking lot as Tiffany stood in the silence and watched the car disappear into the distance. Turning and making her
way back through the aisles and towards the counter, Tiffany passed the cash register and headed into the office, Mrs Appleby already back up at the house as she returned to start preparing the evening meal. Gently closing the office door behind her, Tiffany sat at the desk and pulled the phone towards her, grabbing the receiver and lifting it to her ear. Without thinking, her finger shot to the keypad and instinctively hit the redial button, a ringing suddenly echoing down the line as Tiffany waited in silence, the ringing seeming to ring on and on before suddenly dying as a the line 'clicked' into life, a voice speaking calmly down the other end of the connection.
"Forensics..." The voice answered.
Tiffany felt a shiver cross her spine as she rammed the phone back into the cradle, the crash of plastic on plastic making her blink as the desk felt the full force of the impact. Sitting back, she felt confusion as to the nature of Rita's call. Why were the forensics team of Chicago Police Department paging her? Reaching into her pocket, Tiffany pulled a thin strip of plastic free and admired it in the dim light of Mrs Appleby's office. Twisting and turning it in her hand, the incredibly fine imprints gracing the strip of plastic danced as the light filtered through the oil of her fingerprints, Tiffany casting her mind back to that first meeting with Rita. Under the pretence of needing a brief sleep in the back of the car, Tiffany had indeed realised that she'd perhaps said a little more than she needed to regarding Harry Marsh, taking advantage of the situation and carefully pulling her prints from her very own file, tucked away in the rear of the sedan. Not that she thought there would be any need, but better safe than sorry. Now as she reached into her other pocket, Tiffany withdrew her hand, the lighter glistening as she struck the flint and allowed a spark to ignite and grow into a long, orange flame. Gently holding the tip of the flame beneath the clear plastic, the material immediately beginning to melt as it shrunk into practically nothing, a tower of black smoke now spiralling into the air as the fumes began to make Tiffany feel instantly sick. She didn't know why she felt an air of anxiety all of a sudden. She'd been careful enough and had so far behaved herself remarkably well. The more she thought, the more she felt confidence that whatever reasons Rita had for receiving pager messages from the forensics department couldn't possibly be to do with her.
Could it?
As the sun set across the horizon, the orange glow blinding as the skyline appeared majestically across the foreground, Rita sat and waited. Upon reaching the forensic department and repeatedly pressing the buzzer Will's voice had crackled over the intercom and asked her to wait, the lab not quite empty as various other technicians worked through their cases. Not one to quit so easily, Rita had headed to the coffee machine at the end of the hall and taken a seat, the piping hot cardboard
mug now burning the flesh of her hand as she sat and watched the clock tick on, taking in the ensuing sunset through the windows of the third floor. After half an hour, the door to the lab hissed open, an army of workers emerging as they laughed and joked, heading in unison to the elevators based at the midway point, never noticing Rita as she took another swig of the dark, strong coffee and cast her eyes in the opposite direction. Soon enough the hallway cleared and Rita heard a muffled cough, turning to find Will standing in the doorway to the lab, hurriedly waving her in as he allowed his eyes to wander the corridor in fear. Grabbing her bag and reaching the door, Will moved to one side and ushered her in, following on as they entered the sterile environment beyond. Desks and work stations were littered with unfinished jobs, paperwork strewn across almost every conceivable work surface as the team feverishly laboured into the night. One desk remained tidy, the cold steel metal beneath welcoming as Rita and Will approached, the files laid out, side by side, slightly overlapping as they came to a standstill.
"So..." Rita sighed, removing her coat. "We have everything?"
"Take a look." Will smiled, pulling out a chair and motioning for Rita to sit as he pulled a medley of files towards her. "I did as you asked and cross referenced the unsolved murders from the two day period between Marsh's murder and Valentine's arrest."
"And...?" Rita asked.
"Nothing unusual at first." Will answered. "Obviously there were a lot. But Chicago's a pretty big place right?"
"I guess so." Rita bit her lip and exhaled, defeat beginning to appear in her expression.
"But then I decided to search again." Will explained. "Only this time I searched within a ten kilometre radius from the Marsh scene."
"You can do that?" Rita seemed pleasantly surprised as Will flashed her a winning smile.
"You'd be amazed what we can do these days." He laughed.
"Okay, so I take it this brought something up?" Rita asked once more.
"You could say that." Will surged on. "There were still a fair amount showing on the system, and more or less all are currently in the process of going to trial or awaiting sentencing."
"I hope you're joking." Rita sighed, beginning to stand.
"Calm down." Will held his palms up, gesturing for Rita to sit as he opened a couple of the files now sat before her. "We did get something, although one is literally impossible to pin on your suspect, as you'll soon see."
"Okay." Rita turned her attention to the files and allowed her eyes to roam over the details lurking within. "So what exactly do we have here?"
"This is a double homicide." Will began. "Although technically, if you look at the coroner's report, it's not. This is two single homicides, at the same location, separated by a time period of roughly twelve hours."
"Gabriella Cortez and John Duncan?" Rita read the names allowed.
"That's right. Arcadia Heights, down Washington Park way. Miss Cortez became the victim of severe asphyxiation, while Mr Duncan received a rather solid blow to the side of the head. By the looks of it, he was dead before he hit the ground."
"Okay." Rita looked puzzled. "But this looks just like two murders. One random event, and Washington Park isn't exactly the most peaceful place at the best of times. What links these to Valentine?"
"Do you seriously have such little trust in me?" Will asked sarcastically, his fingers beginning to point to various details of the case. "Gabriella Cortez was known to Chicago Police Department pretty well, despite not being in the area long. Cuban descent, previous pickups for soliciting sexual acts, public disorder, carrying a class A drug, the usual stuff. The guy from the crime scene, however, was also known to the Chicago Police Department, but for much longer. 'Johnny' Duncan had his stubby little
fingers into more or less everything. Pimping, protection rackets, drug dealing, gang related violence, you name it, we picked him up for it at some point or another."
"She was a hooker, he was her pimp." Rita figured as she listened. "But I still don't see a connection to Valentine."
"Neither did I." Will's hand reached for another file, pulling it towards Rita and opening it up. "Then I accidentally stumbled across this little gem."
"Max Mattson?" Rita said, as though the name was familiar. "Why does that name ring a bell?."
"It did with me too." Will replied. "Which is why I looked a little deeper. Death from sudden and violent suffocation. Executive at..." Will paused for effect before carrying on. "...none other than Play Pals Toys. At the centre of a pretty big media circus at the time, all due to the 'Killer Doll' case. "
"What?" Rita gasped. "Tell me that's not a coincidence."
"I don't think so." Will ran his finger along a line from Mattson's file. "Apparently Mr Mattson took delivery of the famed 'Killer Doll' evidence on the same day Harry Marsh met his end at the hands of your young lady friend."
"Enough of the friend bit." Rita rolled her eyes and began to shake her head. "I just don't see how this all fits together. How do Cortez and Duncan fit in with Mattson?"
"Well I'm no detective, but I'd be accustomed to believing the bit in the file here where Mr Mattson has a previous citation for kerb crawling. My guess would be that he knew Miss Cortez that way. But more on that later."
"I see." Rita replied, deep in thought. "You said one of these murders was impossible to pin on Valentine. How do you figure that out?"
"Good old fashioned physics I'm afraid." Will answered pointing to the times of death on the Cortez and Mattson files. "Valentine couldn't be in two places at once, and the Cortez and Mattson murders were estimated by the coroners to have happened at almost the exact same time, but with a decent amount of ground between them."
"So you're saying she had an accomplice?" Rita asked, confusion beginning to cloud her head.
"I don't know what to think regarding that." Will answered. "We start thinking there may be an accomplice, then it could get even cloudier than it already is."
"Okay. So Mattson knew Cortez, and Cortez knew Duncan." Rita bowed her head in desperation. "But I still fail to see Valentine in the mix."
"And so you should." Will replied. "That's exactly what she wanted. Now take a look at this."
Speaking quietly, Will reached for the remaining file and pulled it across the desk, opening it up as he allowed Rita to take a look.
"This is Charles Lee Ray's file!" Rita seemed stunned.
"Indeed it is." Will grinned. "The same Charles Lee Ray that one Karen Barclay claimed had possessed her son's Good Guy doll, leading to the aforementioned media circus and negative publicity for Play Pals. Everything is there, right from his first arrest and up to the night Mike Norris took him out."
"Nothing after that?" Rita asked, sensing she already knew the answer.
"Come on Rita." Will laughed. "We deal in facts and evidence down here. Not freak shows and horror stories."
"Sorry I asked." Rita stifled her laughter as she read on, flicking through the numerous pages of Charles Lee ray's file, the arrest sheet making incredible reading. From the early years of shoplifting,
the odd car theft, right up to the famed murders and voodoo rituals, ending on a kidnapping and attempted murder of one Sarah Pirce just one night before his death. "So what are we looking for here?"
"Take a look at the known associates." Will sat back and waited for Rita to reach that particular page, her eyes narrowing as she read.
Known Associates:
Caputo, Edward J.
-
Bishop, John T.
-
Valentine, Tiffany
"What the fuck?" Rita spat, her tone riddled in shock. "She already had a file?"
"Strangely enough no." Will responded immediately. "I checked, and the only thing she was ever picked up for was 'suspicion of soliciting'. She was released without charge each time."
"So let me get this straight..." Rita took a deep breath and collected herself.
"Go for it." Will sat and waited, a smile spreading across his lips.
"Valentine was a known associate of Charles Lee Ray."
"Correct." Will nodded, arms folded across his chest.
"'The' Charles Lee Ray from the 'Killer Doll' case."
"The very same." Will smiled wider. "My guess would be that she was probably the girlfriend, maybe even a jilted one at that. What with the woman in the basement and all."
"So then what the hell was she doing with Marsh?" Rita pondered. "This is where it begins! With Marsh. What's her motive?"
"Maybe..." Will leaned in. "Just maybe she was desperate enough to believe all the crazy shit and wanted answers. Which brings Marsh well and truly into the picture. She offers him money, he grabs the doll after the case is thrown out. Maybe she didn't get what she wanted and maybe, in some half assed attempt to save his own life, Marsh sent her on some wild goose chase towards the other half of the evidence from the 'Killer Doll' case. That evidence now with Max Mattson. Only she can't get to Mattson just like that, so Marsh points her in the direction of Gabriella Cortez, known to be on 'friendly' terms with Mr Mattson."
"That would explain it I guess." Rita studied hard, her head snapping towards Will suddenly. "You seem pretty sure about this to say it's all 'what ifs' and 'maybes'."
"Well you know me." Will replied with a wry smile.
"You smart fuck, you have evidence don't you?" Rita guessed, astonished.
"You think I'm going to make assumptions like this based on nothing but 'maybes'?" Will laughed, rocking backwards as he did so.
"Show me." Rita stood in a heartbeat.
Seeing her smile disappear and an agonising look of desperation cross her face, Will turned and energetically grabbed a box from the desk by his side, opening the lid and placing it upon the surface of the desk in front of Rita. As Will pulled various objects, documents and pictures from the box, Rita listened as he explained. Slowly but surely, a picture began to develop. Not as much a picture, more of a grainy home video as Will talked her through it, explaining the details behind everything as Rita began to add it all up, exhilarated as she found exhibit A leading from the Evan Carter case and all the way through to exhibit F and the random murder of Max Mattson, a trail of destruction burning
brightly across Chicago, imprinting its self across the mind as Will continued, detail upon detail offering a much clearer insight. As he finished, Rita reached inside the box and withdrew a small bag.
"I want to take this." Rita held the evidence gingerly in her hand, Will's reaction one of uncertainty.
"I don't know about that." His face one of concern. "Is that wise?"
"Call it shock tactics." Rita said smugly. "She may just even crack and confess."
Allowing her eyes to wander across the assembled evidence, Rita felt a surge of confidence coarse through her veins. Along with each and every file now sitting before her, the various evidence from the Marsh, Carter, Cortez, Duncan and Mattson cases now, in their own unique ways, offered a pretty intense explanation to the events between the 18th and 20th of September 1990.
"Will, my friend."
Rita paused, the evidence before her now telling a story from A to Z.
"That's one hell of a job."