Chapter 3.6 (Part One)
July 26th 1993 (One Day Later)
Entering Appleby's store and hearing the all familiar jingle of the bell as the door swung open, Rita took a deep breath and stepped inside. Rows of freshly stocked shelves and refrigerators awaited her as she calmly strolled between the aisles, not a soul in sight as she swiftly reached the counter and took another look around. The office door remained closed and the store felt serene as a stillness fell across the interior, not a sound from the radio, which was unusual, although calling at such an early time was a new experience for both Rita and Mrs Appleby as she examined the antique clock hung gracefully on the wall behind the counter. She'd hardly slept, in fact she hadn't slept, all night. Her mind attempting to foresee the events of the next day, predict how things would pan out as she finally confronted Tiffany and laid Will's theory out before her. Will had wanted to alert the Homicide department immediately, explain the case, the evidence, but Rita was having none of it. That department had gone to hell in a hand basket the moment Mike Norris left. True Jack Santos remained, but not entirely, simply a shell of the man he once was as he turned to the bottle in a big way, the events of the famed 'Killer Doll' case eventually taking its toll as workmates and superiors ridiculed him at every conceivable turn. In a way Rita felt a surge of sympathy for him. She'd seen the work he'd carried out before those dark days, and he was nothing short of exemplary in his role. True he had a knack for rubbing people up the wrong way, maybe he was a little over confident, but still a fantastic detective. Now...? Rita couldn't trust even him to look into this. Instead she had promised Will that she would carry a side arm and take only the one piece of evidence, reasoning that the shock factor may force Tiffany into some form of confession, come peacefully as Rita then phoned the local Sheriff's office and explained the situation. She had more though, pictures of each and every exhibit which could be produced at will and show exactly how Tiffany's little plan had been worked out, unravelled, dissected and then pieced back together strand by strand. In fact now she came to think of it, Rita was pretty sure this whole incident would cause Tiffany to crack. There would be no going back and no amount of anger or violence would erase the box full of evidence sat in the forensics department at Chicago Police Department.
"I thought I heard a voice." Mrs Appleby's voice snaked through the air, causing Rita to jerk in shock, her thoughts running away with her as she stood idly by the cash register.
"Holy shit." Rita's hand shot to her chest, her heart beginning to pulsate beneath her blouse, her shoulder length curls swinging in the breeze as she swung her head instinctively.
"Now, now." Mrs Appleby's eyes widened in surprise. "Did I startle you my dear?"
"I'll say." Rita gasped, her chest banging as she attempted to catch her breath and compose herself.
"I'm sorry." She smiled and clasped her hands together across the waist of her filthy apron, the little wrinkled stockings protruding from beneath lending an even more comical look to Mrs Appleby's tiny frame.
"It's okay." Rita fanned herself with an outstretched hand. "Is Tiffany about?"
"She should be down soon." The old girl sighed. "Not one for early mornings. Last I knew she was getting out of bed."
"Okay. Would I be okay to head up and see her? It's kind of important."
"Sure." Mrs Appleby answered and gestured to the rear door of the small establishment. "Be my guest. Maybe you could be the kick up the ass that girl needs to get out of bed and start work."
"Maybe." Rita laughed as she headed to the door, throwing it open and stepping into the blistering sunlight of the early July morning. "Then again, maybe not."
As she passed down the side of the rustic barn, Rita looked up to the house. The drapes to one of the upstairs windows suddenly parting as a figure stood and took a second, arms flung out as it stretched long and hard. Turning from the window Tiffany disappeared from sight as Rita began the long and laborious climb to the summit of the huge, stone steps before her, legs aching as she reached the top and wiped the sweat from her brow. She had no idea how a woman of Mrs Appleby's age and condition managed this feat, multiple times a day at that, but it had become something she respected about the little old woman over time. Her resilience to plough on, no matter what. Reaching the huge wooden door to the house, Rita silently twisted the handle and let herself in, the huge hall before her never ceasing to impress as she spied the huge staircase, the door to the old fashioned, yet expensively decorated parlour to her right and the rest of the house hiding in the background, the shadows cast through the front windows yet to illuminate what lurked beyond. Allowing her hand to gently caress the smooth, lacquered banister of the staircase, Rita began to climb once more, gently as she took each step, getting a feel for the wood beneath her feet as the old structure creaked and groaned with every step, the ornate spindles running down the left hand side of the staircase impressive to say the least. Before long she had reached the top, Tiffany's voice carrying down the upper hall as she sang to herself, steam escaping the room down the end of the long hallway as the sound of gushing water suddenly ceased, causing Rita to stop dead in her tracks. Before she knew it, Tiffany emerged from the bathroom, hair dripping wet, a towel wrapped securely around her chest as she skipped quickly across the thick carpet and into the room exactly opposite, Rita now taking a deep breath as she stood perfectly still and counted her blessings, although what she had to lose by being spotted at this point was a mystery. The element of surprise, but that was all, no turning back now as she gripped her handbag to her side with a clenched palm and continued on towards Tiffany's room. Before she realised, it, words bouncing around her head, she had reached the door and rounded the corner, Tiffany with her back to Rita, half dressed as she fished through the drawers of an old wooden dresser and pulled garment after garment free. Allowing her time to slip on a vest and a pair of heavily torn jeans, Rita coughed, Tiffany spinning on the spot as she jumped in her skin and threw her hand to her mouth.
"Fucks sake Rita." She gasped. "I hate it when people do that!"
"I can imagine." Rita composed herself, going over her lines subconsciously.
"What's up?" Tiffany asked, catching her breath and scraping her long blonde hair back into a ponytail.
"I know." Rita answered, Tiffany not even flinching at her response, carefully wrapping a scrunchy around her flowing locks and staring into the mirror of the ornate dresser.
"Know what?" Tiffany asked casually, eyes fixed on the mirror as she applied a layer of lipstick to her soft, plump, lips.
"Everything?" Rita replied, causing Tiffany to turn from the mirror and give her a confused look.
"I don't get what you mean." Tiffany shook her head, a small smile forming as she slammed the drawers of the dresser closed.
"Yes you do." Rita sighed. "Harry Marsh."
Tiffany froze, all movement involuntarily stopping as she took a second to think, eyes glassed over as she stepped dizzily towards Rita and spoke softly.
"I don't..."
"We know you killed him." Rita interrupted. "We know it was you. We also know about Gabriella Cortez and Johnny Duncan. We know everything Tiffany."
"Bullshit. I don't know what you're talking about!" Tiffany spat. "Why are you saying this?"
"Because it's the truth." Rita cried at her. "At first I had my suspicions about Marsh, but then as I dug deeper, the others..."
"WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO ME?" Tiffany yelled, her voice echoing through the upstairs of the huge house, anger rippling through every syllable.
"Doing what?" Rita asked incredulously. "Are you actually denying it?"
"Damn right I'm denying it." Tiffany shot back. "You've had it in for me from day fucking one!"
"Please." Rita calmly replied. "It's no use Tiffany. We know everything. It's better you just admit it. In the long run, I don't know, maybe it'll look better on you that you came quietly."
"Came quietly?" Tiffany laughed. "Fuck no!"
"I'm not asking again." Rita angrily spat back.
"Where's your fucking proof?" Tiffany asked, arms clamped across her chest. "Where the fuck is it?"
"If you'd give me a minute..." Rita began, her turn to be interrupted.
"Give you a minute?" Tiffany asked, tears beginning to form in her eyes. "To what? Plant some evidence? Go fuck yourself!"
"We know about you and Charles Lee Ray!" Rita shot back, Tiffany falling silent in a heartbeat as she began to tremble. Without saying a word, she dropped to her bed, head cradled in her hands as she began to rock back and forth.
"How?" She asked, beginning to sob.
"The evidence in Marsh's car. That case, the doll, the urban legend. Then your name sitting right in the middle of Ray's file." Rita explained.
"Jesus." Tiffany took a deep breath and exhaled calmly, lifting her head from her hands and offering a forlorn look. "Was it so easy?"
"Not at first. But as it went on it all became clear." Rita responded.
"I highly doubt that." Tiffany laughed. "Nothing was ever clear where Chucky was concerned."
"Well how's this?" Rita started. "I'm willing to guess that when Ray died you had a lot of questions. Questions you were so desparate to get answers to, so much you started to believe the stories. Definitely questions about Sarah Pirce. So you bribed Marsh, I don't know how much, but it must have been a fair amount." Rita continued as Tiffany nodded, slowly wiping the tears from her eyes, hands shaking all the while.
"Fifty thousand." She answered between sobs. "He needed it for his wife."
"Jesus." Rita's brow furrowed, Marsh's reason suddenly making sense. "How did you ever expect to afford that?"
"I didn't." Tiffany shrugged her shoulders, her chin now resting in her hands as she sat at the edge of her bed, her head beginning to clear.
"So what did you expect?" Rita asked.
"I expected what happened." Tiffany answered. "He brought me the doll, I gave him a bag full of fake money covered with the odd twenty dollar bill. Once I was out of the car I came back and caught him looking in the bag... I grabbed his hair... Pulled his head up and..."
"Okay, let's leave it there." Rita stopped her, a disgusted look now appearing. "You deserve to burn for what you've done."
"This would never have happened if he'd brought me the whole doll!" Tiffany's face suddenly contorted in rage, veins bulging from her temples as she spat through clenched teeth.
"So you didn't get what you wanted." Rita reasoned. "So he what? Pointed you towards Max Mattson?"
"I'm saying nothing else." Tiffany muttered. "Unless you have proof then would you please leave me the fuck alone?"
"So you can skip town?" Rita laughed. "Pull the same shit on Mrs Appleby?"
"That woman isn't as quiet and innocent as you think you know." Tiffany said.
"I have all the proof I need Tiffany." Rita answered, ignoring her last statement and opening her back, fishing inside and pulling the clear plastic bag from within along with a selection of photographs. "I'm pretty sure this would be called 'Exhibit A' in a court of law."
Tiffany stared at the bag, the object within unfamiliar at first as she allowed her eyes to investigate it. All at once, the memory of that night came flashing back. Evan Carter, Harry Marsh, both victims of the same evening and the same tool of destruction, Tiffany standing upright as she recognised the knife come nail file resting in the evidence bag. Blood remained across the blade, as well as the inside of the bag, as Tiffany took a step toward Rita.
"Wait right there." Rita gestured with the hand full of photographs.
"I haven't seen that in a long time." Tiffany smiled, as though greeting an old friend.
"This is from the Evan Carter case. The case you were sentenced from. It's already on record that this is your knife." Rita explained more.
"Your point being?" Tiffany asked with a wry smile.
"My point is that this was seized at the time of your arrest and used to convict you of the attempted murder of Evan Carter."
"I still fail to see your point... Miss Hernandez" Tiffany replied.
"I'm getting to that..." Rita smiled back. "But how do we explain the blood of Officer Harry Marsh being all over it?"
"What can I say?" Tiffany turned and headed to the window, the sunlight beaming in as the birds sang in the trees outside. "You got me."
"Oh I know I've got you, you sick little bitch!" Rita snarled.
"I'm still waiting on a link to Gabriella, what did you say her surname was?" Tiffany asked casually.
"Cortez." Rita answered. "I take it you didn't take time to actually get to know your victims then?"
"Names mean nothing at a time of crisis." Tiffany's voice carried over her shoulder as she continued to look out the window. "However, I fail to see what links me to her and that dickless pimp of hers."
"Well let's see." Rita started thumbing through the photographs in her hands. "Here we go."
Tiffany turned from the window, just in time to see Rita throw the photograph on her bed. Stepping forward she bent over and snatched it from the fresh linen and examined it.
"This is?" She asked in confusion.
"Those are your fingerprints." Rita answered with a grin. "From the scene of Harry Marsh's murder. We have the murder weapon, and we also have your prints right there alongside him at the time he died."
"I see." Tiffany whispered, the evidence suddenly beginning to stack up. "But how does this link me to Gabriella and Johnny?"
"I'm getting to that." Rita answered, throwing another photograph onto the bed, Tiffany again picking it up.
"And this?" Tiffany asked again.
"Marsh's notepad." Rita replied. "Recovered from his body shortly after his death. You notice the last page was torn out, although not what you'd consider a clean tear. Not by any stretch. Part of the missing page is still attached. Also if you saw this in the flesh, you'd see the name 'Gabriella' slightly imprinted in the blank page beneath. He must have pressed on pretty damned hard."
"Hmmm." Tiffany examined the photograph. "I'd still call this circumstantial though."
"I thought you may." Rita smiled, holding yet another photograph in hand, turning it to face Tiffany. "But when you see what was found at the scene of the Cortez and Duncan murders you'd be amazed."
Staring at the two pictures now gracing Rita's outstretched hand, Tiffany focused. In one picture she could clearly see the handwriting of Officer Marsh, the page quickly torn from his Chicago P.D notepad as he frantically scribbled the name 'Gabriella', just moments before Tiffany delivered her fatal blow. In the other, a picture of a bloodied roll of twenty dollar bills, Tiffany completely at a loss as she examined the picture.
"It's a name and a handful of bills." Tiffany narrowed her eyes, curious as to where Rita was going with this.
"That's what you see." She answered. "What a jury would see is this. The name 'Gabriella' scribbled on the piece of paper missing from the notepad of one Officer Marsh. Check if you like, but the page is missing a corner, the corner still sitting in Marsh's notepad. The jury will also see a roll of twenty dollar bills. Not just any roll of twenty dollar bills though."
"Go on..." Tiffany encouraged, not liking where this conversation was heading, Rita's tone now smug and condescending.
"They will see a roll of twenty dollar bills stained with blood. Blood belonging to none other than Chicago P.D Officer Harry Marsh." Rita took a deep breath as Tiffany allowed things to sink in. The page Marsh tore from his notepad. The money waiting in the bag as Marsh inspected it. His heart sinking for the last moment of his life as he realised he'd been conned, Tiffany's fatal blow occurring within seconds of his discovery, the blood flowing from the multiple puncture wounds to his neck as the bag of cash sat wide open on his lap.
"I think I'm going to be sick." Tiffany breathed deeply, her eyes clamped closed as she lifted a solitary hand to her stomach and collapsed to the bed once again.
"We have you. Do you understand now?" Rita laughed. "Your prints in Marsh's car. Your connection to the 'Killer Doll' case. Then Marsh's note paper and blood turning up at the scene of a double homicide in Washington Park. Everything we need to put you away for life is right there! You'd be convicted within hours Tiffany!"
"Stop..." Tiffany held a hand up as she continued to take deep breaths. "I'm sorry. Alright?"
"Sorry?" Rita was stunned. "He had a wife god dammit. A wife who died never knowing what happened to her husband, or why!"
"I know." Tiffany looked up, her face red, her cheeks puffed as tears rolled across her face. "And I'm sorry!"
"There's only one thing we can't figure out!" Rita's voice became quiet as she thought for a second, Tiffany's gaze fixed on her. "What was the deal with Max Mattson?"
"How do you mean?" Tiffany asked, wiping a tear from her cheek.
"Coroner's report says he and Gabriella Cortez were killed around the same time. But there was a distance of over ten kilometres between them. Now we know these murders are connected, Mattson's car phone showed a call to Gabriella Cortez shortly before his murder." Rita snapped her head in Tiffany's direction. "So who took care of Mattson?"
"Chucky..." Tiffany gasped, her eyes dilating as she spoke his name, a stark realisation falling upon her as she began to sob once more. " He must have been in the car..."
"Don't fucking mess with me Tiffany!" Rita growled, stopping her mid-sentence. "Who helped you?"
"I'm telling you the truth you fucking idiot!" Tiffany yelled, her face turning red under the pressure.
"The hell you are." Rita spat, throwing the photographs in Tiffany's direction, turning to leave the bedroom. "Let's see what the Sheriff's Office have to say about this."
Before she knew what she was doing, Tiffany was up and giving chase as Rita hurried along the hall, the floral wallpaper and countless works of art a blur as she moved quickly to the top of the grand staircase. Turning and seeing Tiffany emerge from the bedroom Rita picked up the pace and allowed her brisk power walk to evolve into a jog, Tiffany's cries echoing along the narrow hallway as she wept after her. Looking back proved a costly mistake however as the top of the staircase came into view, the thick carpet trampled underfoot as both girls moved quickly, Tiffany having a slight advantage as her bare feet pushed her along, Rita's heels hampering her slightly as she heard Tiffany's voice once more behind her, a hand on her shoulder as she reached the top step of the staircase and found herself spun on the spot, her handbag flying out behind her as Tiffany grabbed the evidence bag from her grip, the knife come nail file sat within still stained with blood.
"Please." Tiffany begged. "I'm sorry!"
Finding her body spun with such uneven force, Rita felt her balance disappear, turning to face Tiffany, the evidence bag snatched from her hand as she reached towards Tiffany in blind panic, slowly beginning to fall backwards, the feeling intensifying and turning to terror as Tiffany began to realise exactly what was happening and took a step back, an evil smile snaking across her lips. Rita's eyes widened in utter disbelief, arms windmilling as she searched in desperation for something, anything, to grab on to as she felt herself go, Tiffany simply raising her hand, slowly beginning to wave, time seeming to slow down for the two of them as Rita's body fell backwards. As the back of her head made contact with the thick carpet of the staircase, Rita's chin jarred into her chest as Tiffany heard an enormous crack, Rita's neck breaking on impact as the rest of her body rolled over her, legs flailing as they became twisted in the wooden spindles of the staircase, another snap, her body now rolling faster and faster as gravity worked its magic and pulled Rita towards the ground floor. Faster still with every inch as her body slammed against the stairs like a rag doll, ribs puncturing lungs as they snapped, bones splintering within as organs began to bleed profusely. As she reached the thickly carpeted floor of the downstairs hall, Rita's body landed square on her back, her face completely lifeless as her lungs, now filling with blood, released one final breath. Taking a step forward and peering over the top step of the staircase, Tiffany's smile grew as she bit her lip, the exhilaration of the occasion taking over as she felt a thrill not experienced in years, a rush comparable to a mini orgasm as she surveyed the scene before her, the devastation sending a surge of ecstasy through her veins as she closed her eyes and took a deep breath, all immediate problems washed away, dying with Rita Hernandez. As she opened her eyes, she suddenly felt a sickness take hold, much worse than the feeling from just a moment previous, as her eyes fell on the frail, elderly body of Mrs Appleby, stood in shock by the side of Rita's carcass as she dropped to her knees and felt for a pulse, her head turning towards Tiffany and shaking slowly, mouth hanging open in perpetual shock.
Nothing.