BREAKDOWN
—Chapter XV—
For the Getty Rottweiler
I didn't want to speak to Beth that night. I switched off my phone and spent the night at my Mother's. For the first time since the threatening notes, I left her all alone in my own apartment; I didn't bring her to work; I didn't watch over her. I spent the day driving the van while a very upset and heavily hungover Maurizo took care of the Deli business.
The day passed swiftly, trying to find answers to the mountains of questions that spun endlessly inside my mind.
What the hell was doing Matt Hartley's pistol in my van? I remembered how I had the impression that the mysterious briefcase Beth carried the night of the murder had suffered a weight loss during our trip to her home. I'd been carrying that weapon with me the whole time.
Had she been using me? Was she trying to blame me all this time?
I opened the glove compartment again, for the tenth time, as if by wishing the weapon could vanish forever.
The weapon had a similar design of the silver knife Beth always carried with her. It fit the same description Pietro had given us of Mr. Hartley's murderous weapon.
I closed the compartment.
It couldn't be her. It shouldn't be her. I tried to reject the proof lying in front of me. I didn't want to believe in it, I wanted to believe in her.
I checked my mobile phone.
Tons of missed calls and the same voicemail left to me early this morning.
"I just talked to Maurizo and I'm afraid I know what you found. Please, don't go to the police. Whatever you might think of me, I didn't do it. You must believe me. I promise I'll explain everything tonight. I need you to trust me."
I'd heard that message a dozen times that day.
The night arrived quickly than expected. I dismissed Maurizo and closed the Deli. I placed the gun in the drawer of the desk of my modest office. I didn't want to carry it around.
I parked the van in front of Meade Publications and dialed her phone number. It transferred me directly to the voicemail.
The Meade lobby entrance was deserted. Most employees had already gone home that Tuesday night.
"I'm sorry Gio, you know you can't go upstairs" Antonio warned me.
I asked my friend if Elizabeth Hartley had already left but he answered that he hadn't seen her leave the building. I used the phone and called her desk. Nobody answered.
"Are you sure she's still in here?" I asked, hanging the receiver after another failed attempt to reach her.
"I don't know, Gio. Just sit and wait if you want. As long as you know you can't go inside."
"Let him in. I'll be responsible for him" said a familiar voice.
Betty Suarez came towards us.
"I don't think I can do that, miss. I have this order."
"And I have this one" she said looking for a paper copy in her designer purse, "emailed by Daniel Meade. You can check the system if you like."
"How did you—?" I asked her while Antonio verified the order and gave me a visitor pass.
"I wanted to tell you this morning but I couldn't reach you."
She was right. I didn't want to speak with anyone from the Detective Squad until I talked to Beth first.
"How is Daniel dealing with everything?" I asked and we walked to the waiting area.
"Not too well. But he's stronger than he'd ever been. He'll be fine."
We stood there without having anything to say. She spoke first, with a timid voice.
"Gio, I wonder if you'd like to go out sometime."
"What? You mean like… like with you and Matt?" I said raising both my eyebrows, "after what I did to his face?"
I stopped for a second. She was blushing.
"Oh, wait" I snapped, "You're not talking about having dinner with your fiancé…"
She shook her head and said.
"Like the old times: just you and me, like you said."
I just couldn't believe what I was hearing and kept staring at her. Betty Suarez was a mystery. There she was sending me mixed signals again. I never understood her. I never could. She really was something.
"Not tonight" I said.
Her face saddened. And we remained in silence for few minutes until she spoke again.
"Is it true that poor Jenny had to quit? I never got chance to see her off" she said. "I really liked her, you know? Do you know if we could visit her sometime?"
"Sure" I said. "She's staying in Brooklyn."
"I thought she lived in Queens."
"She moved, probably living at her aunt's house. We could ask Pietro."
"I'll make sure to pay her a visit" she pondered. "Poor girl."
"Yeah" I said and couldn't find anything else to say.
"Are you going home?" she asked. "I'm on my way to Queens. Maybe you could give me a ride?"
"I'm really sorry" I said as gently as I could. "I'm waiting for someone."
"I see." She said. "I guess I should leave then."
Betty took two steps forward and lost balance, falling at my feet. I laughed, breaking the awkward moment between us. She helped herself up while I picked her scattered belongings from the floor.
"Isn't this a little bit too big for you, Betty? No wonder you're tripping all over" I said trying to make a joke while I took her little feet in my hands and helped her put on the pretty shoe. It was an expensive designer's shoe. So fancy that I would never imagine a girl like Betty wearing one. "Becoming a slave to fashion, little Mode Girl?"
"Are you going to pass your judgment on me now?" she said, shyly trying to hide her feet from my view.
"That's our thing, isn't it? You criticize me, I criticize you and we live happily ever after," I said "or maybe not."
She drew a deep breath.
"Happily ever after…" she spoke in a low voice. "Can we ever find true happiness, to be fully satisfied? To get what we truly want, what we deserve? Do we even know what we really want?"
I sat by her side. "How could I know?"
"You always bragged about how knew all the answers" she said, mockingly.
I smiled.
"Why can't we go back to what we were before?" she said.
"It's complicated." I answered.
"Complicated…"
"You confuse me" I said. "Sometimes I don't understand this 'new you': the air around you, the clothes, the attitude. Sometimes you're the one I used to… Betty, you used to tell me everything."
"I'm sorry" she said. "Gio, I've changed. But what can I do? Life made me what I am now. But it's all so tiring. No matter how hard I work, how much I sacrifice myself, how much I change… I end up swimming in lies" she said, looking at her hands. "People are mean in this world. Very mean. It's horrible."
"Betty, you need to be stronger. Life isn't fair."
There I was, trying to lecture her again.
She looked at me with her brown eyes as if deciding on what she was going to tell me next.
"Matt cheated on me while we were on the Y.E.T.I Program with that woman, the woman Marc recognized on the press."
I was numbed for a second but I wasn't really surprised. I couldn't expect less from that pathetic excuse of a man.
"I can't believe I'm still with him after all" She wiped a tear. "I know I'm being stupid."
I frowned. She was being stupid. Again.
It wasn't the first time it'd happened to her.
"You know, Gio? The only man in my life who never lied to me was you. I can't believe I never realized it. I sometimes wonder…" her face turned carmine, she played with her fingers. "Will you ever forgive me? For all that happened between us?"
I wanted to say I would. But it had been just such a long time. It was too late, too complicated.
I broke the eye contact and stood up.
"Good night, Betty. Have a safe trip home."
She left without saying another word.
—0—
My boots resounded like an echo through the corridors of MODE. Most of the lights were off and very few people were around.
I stopped in front of Matt's office. The lights were on. Someone was inside. The see-through wall revealed that someone was inside, sitting in the desk.
There he was: Matt Hartley, his nose still severed and cover with bandages.
He raised his head, aware of my presence and tried to figure out who I was.
We locked eye to eye and I knew he'd finally recognized me.
My lips formed a line and the blood started rushing to my head, boiling inside my veins.
Matt made a sudden movement as if going to stand up and come to me. I clenched my fists, ready to clash against him. But then, he stopped, sat back on his chair and turned his back at me.
"Wise move, jackass", I thought. "There's nobody here to protect you this time".
You're not a killer. Beth's voice was ringing in my head.
I spat on the floor and walked away.
Beth's desk was empty. And there didn't seem to be anyone else around. Daniel, Wilhelmina and Marc have all left.
The melody of my cellphone rang in my pocket and I picked it.
"Beth, where the hell are you?"
"At MODE" she said in a whisper. I could barely hear her voice through the line.
"No, I am at MODE! At your desk. You're not even here. Everything is turned off. Where are you really?"
Beth voice was extremely nervous and upset.
"Human Resources floor. The archive room. If you're here. Please come. You must. This is too much."
She closed the line.
I ran through the corridors guided solely by my memory. Everything was dark and there wasn't a single soul in the whole floor. The road was long and tedious. Passing through dozens of empty cubicles and small corridors, I wondered why would she pick such a shady place to meet me, what was she doing there all by herself.
I finally found the little white door at the back.
The door was curiously open and a little ray of artificial light peeked through, forming a straight line that cut the darkness in two.
I advanced cautiously and couldn't stop feeling like a clueless prey playing on a snake's nest.
I opened the door.
She jumped and faced me. Her eyes were bloodshot red. They were trembling in excitement, staring intently into mine. Her reddish hair was tied in a bun held by a large golden pin with little Japanese motifs. Her face was pale and worn.
She was holding something in her hands, her sharp knife pointing menacing at my direction.
"Woah!" I raised both my hands "It's me!"
She walked towards me, visibly troubled, on the verge of breakdown, still holding the weapon in her hands.
I took a step back.
"Beth, what are you doing?"
Her beautiful ivory hands were shaking.
"It's in here. It's all in here!" she said showing me some documents she was holding on her other hand.
As I looked beyond her shoulders, I noticed the filing cabinet was opened wide; the metal lock of the top, severely damaged with heavy scratches around the edges, caused, probably, by her knife. I threw a quick glance to the piles of files opened everywhere. The whole room was a horrible mess.
"Beth, what did you do?"
"I had to" she said. "I needed to know."
I moved quickly, snatched the knife away from her.
"I found them. I knew I'd seen that face before" She kept standing in front of me, shaking uncontrollably, staring at me with those grey eyes. "Oh Gio! This is awful. All the murdered women… they're all connected."
"Beth, calm down. I don't know what you're talking about." Her cool was breaking down in front of me and I didn't know what to do.
She just kept repeating:
"They are all connected, all connected" she shoved me the papers, urging me to read them "I found them. I knew I've recognized them. They're all here. They worked in publishing houses."
"Beth, stop. You're not making sense." I shook my head. "You still have one thing to explain to me—"
She wasn't listening.
"All connected. Oh my god! I can't believe it. It's him… Look! look!"
She kept pointing at some papers. I saw the pictures of young women. I recognized some of their faces. They used to come to the deli. They were pretty, they were smiling, they looked so alive. These pictures didn't resemble of those disfigured cadavers from the journals, but they were them. They were the victims of the recent murders.
"All applied work for MODE… all interviewed personally… every one of them… all for assistant to Creative Director."
I quickly grabbed the papers from her and confirmed it with my own eyes. It all made sense to me know. I stood up and turned to face Beth. She had become death pale. She started shaking again.
"He lied to me. He used me. He—he slept with all of them. He killed all those women, my uncle… even his own—" she chocked her mouth was opened but no words came through.
"Beth. Look at me" I grabbed both her arms, trying to control her frenzy and pushed her against a wall. Her golden pin fell from her hair and hit the floor, making a peculiar sound that vibrated between us for a second. Her untied hair cascaded like a curtain between us. "You still need to tell me… explain to me why you had that gun with you."
"All candidates for the same position I rejected three months ago… Jenny, those women, all interviewed to work as Matt's assistant. Every one of them. Different dates. Same job."
"Beth! Answer me! Why you were hiding that gun? Why?"
"Matt's assistants! All were going to work for Matt. Jenny. He— He—"
"Beth, why are you helping him? Why are you sacrificing everything for him?" I was slowly losing it myself too. I had her pinned her against the wall. Her face was just inches away from mine. "Why are you protecting that asshole? Why were you helping that murderer?"
"Because—" Her eyes opened wide and caught mine. Her voice overpowered mine and her dry confession resounded against the walls of our small confinement. "Because I loved him."
To be continued
