Chapter 12 - Who we choose to be
When a long and tiring day found its end, Perry and Paul stood in Della's now deserted patient's room. The police had left some time ago and very soon a cleaning squad and a painter would arrive to remove every trace of the tragedy that had occurred in the room.
"Did the doctors tell you how long Laura will be in surgery?" Paul asked, checking his watch.
"No." Perry shook his head and drew a deep breath.
Laura had suffered a massive loss of blood. Rebecca had stabbed her in the stomach, with a scalpel, she had hidden in the pocket of the stolen nurse's uniform. Apparently, Laura's sudden appearance in Della's room had ultimately spoiled Rebecca Powell's plans to kill Della. The policeman in front of the room had been killed by an overdose of a poison based on the essence of foxgloves that had been injected into his neck. The man had died a practically painless death. The coroner still had to analyze the substance that had been found in the syringe that Rebecca wanted to inject to Della, but Perry was sure it contained the same sedative Rebecca had given to the photographer, before she killed him. Apparently Rebecca had intended the same painful death for Della.
"What Rebecca did in here was extremely risky," Paul said to Perry, who was still staring at the dried blood on the wall and the floor. "Anyone could have come in here at any time."
"Just like in Della's apartment," Perry agreed and added to himself. 'She's mad.'
"The police are searching Rebecca's apartment. I'm pretty sure they will find, not only some sort of secret lab, but also a lot of other things that link her to the murder of this photographer. They've already found a black wig and the waitress uniform in a dumpster around the corner from where the party took place. She must have thrown them away before she followed the ambulance."
"Well, that's what the D.A. will have to ask her." Perry said.
"I guess he will. After all, he's playing poker with Carlisle. I bet they will lock her up and throw away the key." Paul eyed his old friend with curiosity. "Will you talk to her? I mean, she was your secretary. If I were you, I would have a lot of questions."
"Oh, believe me, I have a lot of questions!" Perry said and decided it was time to leave. There was nothing left to do in this room. "Let's go."
Friday, 2nd November 1973
"I have a lot of questions I need to have answers for!" Della said, while her husband was staring at her in utter disbelief. She had herself released from the hospital that very morning. Though he understood her wish to be out of the hospital, he still feared she was overtaxing herself. She had been so incredible lucky over the last few days that her latest plan just seemed to push her luck unnecessarily hard.
"I can't believe you will actually consider talking to her!"
"Why not?" Della asked and pulled a turtleneck sweater over her head and flinched. Her neck was still bruised and even the feeling of the woolen fabric was painful. "She's in custody now."
"I still think it's a bad idea!" Richard insisted. "We know why she did all of this.
There's no need to grant her an audience."
"It won't be an audience," Della replied. "Perhaps you can't understand it, but she tried to kill me with her bare hands. I want to know where this hate comes from!"
"She was Renzi's fiance! She's jealous!" He exclaimed exasperated. Sensing he was getting tired of the discussion, she closed the wardrobe and sat on the edge of the bed. "Richard, I mean it. I want to talk to her and I have this feeling she won't turn away my request."
"Of course, she won't," he scoffed. "She'll enjoy it!"
"So, either you will arrange a meeting or I'll call the D.A. myself. Your choice."
"I'll go with you."
"No." She established eye contact with her husband. "I will talk to her on my own."
Richard's jaws were clenching, but Della didn't surrender. She was entitled to her right to talk to anyone she wanted to. Ultimately it was a battle of wills. She had witnessed Perry staring down people in court countless times and had always wondered how he had mastered this special technique. You simply had to believe in it with all your heart. Now, she knew how to do it and she would never forget it. In the end, Richard gave in.
"All right. I'll make the necessary calls - but promise me to wait a day or two. I want you to get some rest."
"I will rest. Once I have talked to Miss Powell, I'll take Ruben home to Sacramento with me."
Saturday, 3rd November 1973
Due to Richard's request, Rebecca's transfer from the police station to another prison got delayed, so that Della wouldn't have to meet her in a federal prison. So far, Perry hadn't dared to contact Della after her release from the hospital, but when he heard she would come downtown to talk to Rebecca, he made sure to be around when she arrived. He had called in some old favors in the Police Department to have the chance to be present when Della talked to Rebecca. His own interrogation of Rebecca hadn't been very successful. Stoic, she hadn't answered one of his questions, but the smug impression on her face told him there was a lot she wanted to talk about.
The evidence against her was not as overwhelming as he had hoped for. Since he and Richard had tempered with the evidence in Carlisle's apartment, nothing aside from the used sedative linked Rebecca to the murder of the photographer. The photographs were destroyed and since Rebecca had been dressed up when she paid the rent for the photo studio, it would be easy for her defense attorney to deny her connection to the victim. Perhaps Della's presence was what it would take to make Rebecca talk. From what he heard, Carlisle wasn't happy with his wife's request and feared for her security. Perry understood both sides. Della needed answers after everything that had happened to her while Carlisle, the control freak that he was, needed to know Della was safe.
Rebecca was led inside the interrogation room and cuffed against the table. Perry watched her through the one-way mirror while the policewoman took her place next to the door. Rebecca's facial expression was non-telling as always. She had a bandage along her hairline where Della had pushed her against the door frame and one of her eyes was badly bruised. Now that there was no wig and no glasses that disguised her, he could tell, she was a beautiful woman. Her brown hair was long and her green eyes gave away a brisk, free spirit. She was bright and had the best abilities to become a successful part of society. This woman could have become whatever and whoever she wanted, but she choose to get carried away by her unrequited love for a man who didn't want her.
'We are what we choose to be', he thought bitterly. Behind him, the door opened and Della, accompanied by the D.A., a small, bald man named James Norton entered the room. Even in the imminent darkness of the room, he saw that the make up she had applied didn't cover up the strain she had been under. There was a small bandage on her temple and a cut along her chin.
"Counselor," she greeted him cordially.
He drew a deep breath. "Mrs. Carlisle. How are you?"
"I'm fine." The blunt lie made him smile.
"How's your wife?" She asked back.
"She'll be fine."
"I'm glad to hear it. Give her my best when you talk to her."
"I will." He would rather throw a lit match on a gasoline tank, but they weren't alone and the situation demanded a bit of ceremony as well as white lies.
D.A. Norton checked his watch and interrupted the little exchange. "Will you go in now, Della?"
"Yes, I will."
"May I stay?" Perry asked unexpectedly. "After all, my wife is a victim of Miss Powell as well. I would like to hear, if Mrs. Carlisle' s more successful than I was."
Della gave him a look that was mix of scolding and admiration while the D.A. seemed flustered.
"I'm not sure that's what..."
"Let him stay," Della said. "What harm can be done?"
"But Richard said..."
"Leave Richard to me," Della said firmly and Norton. gave in. "Okay." He swallowed and nodded to Perry. "This will be on your head!"
"Oh, it always is," Perry said jovially.
Without paying any more attention to the D.A. or Perry, Della opened the door to the interrogation room and went inside.
Rebecca looked up when Della entered the room and her eyes sparkled with anticipation. With firm steps and her heart somewhere in her throat, Della approached the table and sat down.
"I hoped you would come to see me," Rebecca said. "Your curiosity got the better of you. If everything had gone according to plan, we would have had this conversation on Halloween, but I misjudged your luck that night."
"Well, here we are. I promise you, you have my full attention."
Rebecca nodded, almost in admiration, "You've got guts. I have to admit that. It must have been tiring to play the damsel-in-distress-for the last couple of decades. It makes me proud to say that I'm the one who brought out your true colors."
"What makes you think that?" Della asked, truly astonished.
"You almost broke my skull, when you pushed me against that door." She touched her forehead with her hand.
"Sue me. I have a good lawyer."
"Ouch...," Rebecca grinned. "I see... that was what Nick was talking about when he mentioned your wit."
Della pushed her tongue into her cheek and then she sat up and said, "I think it's time we talked about Nick. I mean Nick is the reason for all this... you're in jail, because of him."
Rebecca shook her head. "No, it's because of you. It's your fault he's dead. He died because of you, because he went to Malibu to see you. Because he was thinking of you, when he drove his car over that cliff."
"What makes you so sure of that?"
Rebecca laughed, "Because he told me so. He called me after he left your house. He was all over the moon, because he thought you were finally giving him a chance."
Della shook her head, "That can't be true. I sent him away that day. I told him to sort his life out and to give you a second chance."
Rebecca shook her head, amusement written all over her face. "Well, whatever you said or did, it kept him distracted. It tore him further and further away from me. And all this time I wondered what's so special about you... what makes men lose their heads over someone so..." Her eyes scrutinized Della. "Normal. Vanilla. I don't get it. But I'm not the only one. Laura Mason has the same problem only she's too self-obsessed to realize that she's the one who's driving her own husband away. "
"Is that the reason why you applied for a job at Mr. Mason's office? Because you wanted to find out more about my past?"
"That's exactly what Mr. Mason kept asking me yesterday. Is he here today? Did he tell you what to ask?" Rebecca looked aside to the one-way mirror and smiled, as if she knew he was there, watching them. "He was pretty frustrated when I didn't talk to him yesterday. He isn't used to people who don't do what he tells them to. But, of course, you know all about that, don't you?" Rebecca gave her smirk, but Della decided to ignore the rhetoric question.
"So, your answer is yes," Della summed up. "What I don't understand is why you put so much effort into your crusade against me. If you had wanted me dead, you could have accomplished that much easier. Why did you want to frame me for murder? Why did you abduct me? Why this cat-and-mouse-game?"
Rebecca shrugged, "I thought you had figured it out by now. Just to see you squirm... You should have seen the look on Mason's face when he saw those photos. I really thought he lost it. During all these years, he has put you on a pedestal and I wanted to see it tumbling. But I'm ready to admit I misjudged the situation. In his eyes, you're untouchable - not unreachable as we know, but untouchable. Men are such fools, aren't they? Especially those who think of themselves as the good ones."
Della didn't react. She just waited for Rebecca to continue. "I knew you would call Mason. I've watched you since you arrived in Washington that afternoon. You were in his office that evening... I overheard you. The rest was easy. Smith and I went to your apartment. He was so stupid... so easy to manipulate. I told him I wanted to surprise a friend and I gave him the injection in the car. It worked rather quickly, but you've experienced it first hand yourself. Your doorman was too distracted to notice us. Smith barely noticed how I picked the lock to your apartment. I hid him under your bed while I was behind the curtain. You were so... absent-minded when you came in. I guess you were still thinking about Mason. Did you tell your husband about your little interlude? I guess not, otherwise, he wouldn't have agreed to play along when Mason suggested one of his little schemes to save you... But, as I said, you're not stupid. You know how to protect yourself!"
As much as she hated it, Rebecca's words were getting under her skin. The cold-blooded confession about killing someone just like that was one thing, but the way she felt completely justified in her actions was a different beast. For her there was just black and white.
"So, you just stabbed him and left, hoping the police would arrest me?"
"Yes, it is dreadfully easy to kill when you want it. Think about yesterday... you wanted to kill me, didn't you?"
"No. I wanted to defend myself."
"If that's what you want to believe."
Della tried to sound as cold and unfeeling as possible when she spoke again. "I think you likewise misjudge my relationship to Mr. Mason and to my husband."
"I don't think I do," Rebecca answered. "On the contrary. It would have been so easy to kill your husband and frame you for it - especially if it became public that you were seeing your ex-lover in secret. And what about your son? Ruben would have been the easiest target of all. He's such a sweet boy who looks so very much like his father..."
Della's stomach turned into a stone. "So, why didn't you kill them?" She asked, her heart racing in her chest while she waited for the answer. Rebecca leaned in and Della had to force herself not to back off.
"It wouldn't have made sense," Rebecca explained softly. "Killing your husband would have made your life easier... killing your son wouldn't have been enough. Perhaps if he were Perry's son, but this way..."
"You're sick," Della whispered.
"Just admit it... if I had killed Perry Mason your life would certainly become even more miserable, but I sincerely believe that the ultimate punishment for you is knowing that he's married to someone else. His death would free him from this sorry existence next to Laura. So, killing you was the best option for my own peace of mind. Unfortunately, you have proven to be like a cat. You seem to have nine lives, but one day, your luck will run out. One day Mason, your husband or your own survival instinct won't save you."
Della decided she had enough. "That's pretty assumptive coming from you," she said. "You'll go to jail for a long time and no one is going to save you from that."
Rebecca laughed out loud, "Yes, but believe me, when I go down, I'll take you with me. I'll tell my story in court and I'm sure the press will even pay to listen to me. Reporters thrive on scandals. The photos, the murder, your life long affair with a man who isn't your husband and never will be... a man who left you for another woman. Laura Mason is a whore, so how does it feel to be second best to her? After my trial, you'll even feel lower than you already do. You, your husband, and Mason will lose everything. Perhaps it's good things turned out this way. It's almost perfect."
Della rose from her chair. With all the dignity she was able to muster, she held her head and said. "A courtroom isn't a circus. I doubt the press or the jury will see you as anyone else than who you really are: A bitter, lonely woman who couldn't stand to lose her boyfriend. You can blame anyone you want... Me or the rest of the world, but in the end, you made your choices and no one else. You chose who and what you are."
Perry was waiting for Della outside the police station. After everything he had listened to, he couldn't stand to be inside. He needed fresh air and space to think. His worst expectations had just been confirmed and now they had to deal with it.
"That was good work, Miss Street," he complimented her when she approached him and offered her a cigarette. She only hesitated a second. "Perhaps this isn't the right time to quit smoking again," she said and he gave her fire.
"But since this wasn't an official interrogation nothing of what she said can be used in court." Della shook her head. "Is she insane or just the devil?"
"Where is the difference?" Perry asked. "Richard can use his influence to offer her a deal in exchange for her silence."
"And then she gets back out on the street again in a couple of years. Why does the idea make me nauseous? But what is the alternative? You know she is right. She can destroy us all with her testimony. Even you." Della rubbed the bridge of her nose. "This is all my fault!"
"It's not. You did nothing wrong."
"Maybe none of this would have happened, if I had reported my abduction to the police. I chose to be a coward because I feared Richard's reaction after everything we had been through last year."
"You didn't know you were abducted," Perry argued mildly. "Don't waste too much time on regret. It won't lead you anywhere. I know a thing or two about regret." He gave her a loving glance. "We will fix this. Somehow."
She wanted to believe him, but she was not someone who believed in miracles. "I think I've got to go home now," she said and stubbed her cigarette with the tip of her boot. He gave a worried glance. "You know all of what was said was taped, don't you? I'm sure Richard will listen to it rather sooner than later."
"I know." She shrugged. "I almost got killed twice within the last three days. I don't think telling him more one ugly truth is too painful - at least not for me."
"If there's anything I can do..." He left the offer hanging in the air. She had to decline anything he offered her, if she wanted to save her marriage, but deep down inside he felt responsible for her and her well-being.
"There's nothing you can do." She leaned in and kissed his cheek. "Thank you for being there for me."
"Always."
"Good bye, Perry."
With one last smile she turned on her heels and walked down the street.
"In his eyes you're untouchable - not unreachable as we know, but untouchable... I guess you were still thinking about Mason. Did you tell your husband about your little interlude? I guess not, otherwise he wouldn't have agreed to play along when Mason suggested one of his little schemes to save you..."
Richard Carlisle stopped the tape. He had listened to it over and over again. He didn't even want to know if everything Rebecca Powell had said was the truth. Even if nothing had happened between Della and Mason the night in the office, the very essence of what she had said was what counted.
"The photos, the murder, your life long affair with a man who isn't your husband and never will be... You, your husband, and Mason will lose everything."
Carlisle didn't believe in prophecies, especially not in the self-fulfilling ones He believed in action and what could be done to achieve what needed to be done. So, he picked up the phone and dialed the number of an old friend.
"There's something I need you to do for me..."
Tuesday, 6th November 1973
Perry heard the news about Rebecca Powell's death on his way to his office.
"So far no statement about the sudden and violent death of the presumed murderess has been issued by the police, but unofficial sources claim that Rebecca Powell was involved in a fight with one or more other inmates and was killed. Rebecca Powell had only been for one day in the facility and the incident raises indeed questions about the security arrangements inside our federal prisons..."
Perry turned off the radio and stopped the car at the roadside. Rebecca Powell was dead. As far as he knew, she hadn't given anyone her official statement yet. Her lawyer was working pro bono, but without a lot of enthusiasm. Rebecca's death changed everything. Without her statement, there was nothing to prove. The case would be closed and forgotten. Della would be safe. Untouchable.
How very convenient... He suppressed the very ugly thought that Rebecca's untimely death was the very best that could happen to all of them.
~~~tbc~~~
This was the penultimate chapter. Thanks for reading and reviewing!
