Present day
Elizabeth's colleagues had made every effort to secure the house so that none of the neighbors would notice her arrest. After Elizabeth had been patted down by an officer for safety's sake, her daughter Nikki had finally taken her to the BPD custody cell, where she was to stay overnight before being brought before the magistrate the following day.
Finally, there was peace. Elizabeth had been lying on the hard bed with the uncomfortable mattress for hours, staring at the bare wall of the holding cell in the basement of the BPD. The charges based on which the public prosecutor's office would apply for an arrest warrant against her in a few hours could hardly be more serious. It seemed entirely possible that the day behind her had been the last she would ever be able to spend in freedom.
How long could it be before it happened?
Elizabeth replayed only one scenario in her mind, full of worry and unease.
I can't do much down here, but that doesn't mean I can't do anything. As it stands, I only have one chance.
With a determined movement, Elizabeth rose from her cot and knelt on the floor in front of the toilet next to the cot in the holding cell.
"Help!" she screamed as loud as she could. "The creature wants to kill me!"
Only when she heard the sound of an approaching officer in the corridor did she bang her head as hard as she could on the metal toilet seat.
xxx
"You're not helping yourself or us," explained the doctor in the Mass Gen emergency room where Elizabeth had been taken.
It was not uncommon for detainees to try to injure themselves or even take their own lives in their cells while under arrest. For this reason, it was also customary for detainees on remand to first undergo psychological questioning to rule out the risk of suicide as far as possible.
"I need to speak to my lawyer immediately," Elizabeth explained as the doctor wrapped a bandage around her head.
The captain had sustained a laceration to his forehead, which was still bleeding profusely.
"You can do that in the morning," she was told. "Don't worry; no one will bring you before the magistrate without a defense lawyer."
"Now pay close attention," Elizabeth told the doctor in a tone that made her sound eerily manic. "I've just been attacked in my cell by a creature that hit my head on the toilet. This thing came through the wall and escaped through the toilet drain. It's your fucking job to protect me, and if I can call my lawyer now, I'll tell your supervisor the secrets about you that the creature confided in me!"
For security reasons, an officer was present during the treatment. Time and again, defendants tried to threaten cops or doctors in their distress. The attempt by an inmate to pretend to be mentally ill was also anything but new for the doctor.
"Mrs. Rizzoli, please just try to sleep for a few more hours until you can talk to your lawyer in the morning," the doctor asked her patient calmly.
She had long since grasped the situation in the treatment room.
Although there is a coffee machine, she brought her own thermos flask with her name. There might be tea in the pot, but next to the sink is a mug with coffee stains and her name. The name tags prevent anyone from accidentally drinking the mixture she brought. And why is she wearing camouflage make-up at work? To hide the red veins on her nose and cheeks? Her breath also smells of peppermint candy.
"You're drinking!" Elizabeth now exclaimed. "The entity said that's why you no longer work with real patients. If you don't let me talk to my lawyer on the phone, I'll tell the creature that you're treating patients when you're drunk. Then it will come and get you!"
"Don't do that!" the officer told Elizabeth in a confident tone.
Of course, the officer knew that his prisoner was a captain of the BPD, but that didn't help Elizabeth at all. The officer was a burly man with a fixed gaze and a shaved bald head who had worked in the police force for decades. He had encountered far more dangerous people than Elizabeth, and he did not want to be accused of favoring a colleague.
"You're right," the captain admitted meekly, looking at the doctor wide-eyed. She noticed that the doctor's gaze had become more uncertain.
She is afraid it will be discovered, so she continues: she has a pink children's plaster on her wrist. She's too young to be a grandma.
"If your little daughter finds out, she'll be very disappointed. The creature says --"
"Leave it alone! My daughter doesn't matter here! If you want to delay your trial, you'll talk to a psychologist tomorrow."
"Me! Will! Make a phone call! With my lawyer!" Elizabeth insisted unbendingly. "The entity says you can't forbid me to do that. Besides, the being says that you --"
"It's all right," the doctor finally conceded.
Under no circumstances did she want to risk Elizabeth divulging any more unpleasant truths about her. Wherever the captain might know them from, while she uncertainly sounded out the officer's reaction, the doctor now said to Elizabeth:
"Now, for God's sake, call your bloody lawyer. Before you hurt yourself any further."
Under the officer's astonished gaze, the doctor handed Elizabeth her cell phone. She reached for it and hurriedly dialed a number. It took quite a while for someone to answer.
"John Michaels?" Elizabeth called into the cell phone after the head of the Boston tabloid, Fadenkreuz, answered in a sleepy voice. "I'm Captain Elizabeth Rizzoli from Boston Homicide. You know me. I know it's too late for the print version of your paper, but I was hoping you could get it into the online edition right away. And get a story out to your TV colleagues! If you can ensure everyone knows tomorrow morning, you'll get the first interview with me in the cell. But only then!"
As soon as she had shouted these words into the cell phone, the officer jumped towards Elizabeth and tried to snatch the device out of her hand.
"So, that's the end of the games!" he exclaimed angrily as he struggled to get the cell phone.
"Interview in the cell? What's going on?" Michaelson asked in confusion just a second before the officer finally managed to grab the cell phone and end the call; Elizabeth managed to answer.
"I'm being accused of murdering several people! Make the big announcement now!"
xxx
"Okay," Maura said into her cell phone as she paced in her living room. "Thank you. I hate to say it, but I owe you dinner for the next two months. Yes, at real restaurants and not diners. Thank you."
Jane looked down at the couch with a deep frown, nervously biting her thumbnail as she watched her wife talk on the phone.
Maura ended the call, looked at the former Chief of Police, took a deep breath, and slumped her shoulders. "I was able to convince Rosalyn Vaughn to take over Elizabeth's defense."
"Good," Jane exhaled with relief and exited the couch to get a beer from the fridge. "That's good, very good. I hate to admit it, but Rosalyn Vaughn is one of Boston's best criminal defense attorneys." She opened the bottle and licked her lips. "And what does she ask of you in return?"
"Nothing I can't work out with my conscience," the graying blonde replied, pressing her lips together. "Even if she's already got the odd bastard out of prison, she's not that ruthless, Jane."
Jane nodded slowly and took a sip from the bottle. "Ruthless enough to move from the DA's office to Barrett Legal Associates. Maura, I've had more than enough to do with Rosalyn in court."
"And I haven't?" Maura replied with a furrowed brow. "My people have lost to her more than once. But Rosalyn has the decency to encourage her clients to take a good deal or even resign when the prosecution's evidence is more than overwhelming."
"Are you hoping Vaughn will get a good deal for Elizabeth?"
"I'm hoping that Rosalyn can prove that our daughter has nothing to do with these murders, Jane," Maura returned wide-eyed, pouring herself a large glass of white wine. "I'm hoping that this is all just a fucking misunderstanding and that Elizabeth's name will be cleared. Because if it turns out that my ... our daughter is somehow involved --"
"Then not only will your career be over, but all the cases Liz has worked on will be scrutinized."
Maura pressed her lips together and nodded slowly. "My office will be inundated with appeals from attorneys representing clients convicted by Liz during the time Elizabeth's innocence hasn't been proven anyway."
Jane slumped her shoulders after getting up from the couch and sighed loudly. "And that sets you and your people back years because Liz has the best clearance rate in the BPD."
Maura closed her eyes and paused for a moment. "And it doesn't stop there. With Rosalyn Vaughn as Elizabeth's lawyer, I'm treading on damn thin ice; we're all treading on damn thin ice. Because if Elizabeth --"
"Liz might be a little weird, even a little wacky," Jane replied, looking her wife firmly in the eye. "But she's not a murderer."
Maura exhaled sharply and resignedly placed her hand on her forehead, eyes closed. "I know, Jane, but I'm afraid the evidence is against Liz now."
xxx
"Why didn't you tell me about your findings?" Nikki snarled, pacing the living room angrily.
Mike sat on the couch and tucked his chin in a surprise. "And what exactly would that have achieved?"
"We could have set the record straight, got to the bottom of whether the eyewitness was mistaken," the young detective replied and stopped abruptly.
"The car rental company's wife described Elizabeth down to the last detail, Nikki," he replied, frowning deeply. "I --"
"You should have come to me with that!" Nikki said, pointing wide-eyed at her chest.
"And then what?" Mike replied, taking a deep breath. "What would you have done then? Swept the evidence under the carpet until we caught the real culprit?"
Nikki's eyes widened; she opened her mouth and immediately closed it. She knew for a fact that if she had been the one to find the evidence, she would have presented it to Maura and Nick, but she would have delayed the inevitable as much as possible. The outcome at the end would have been precisely the same as it was at that moment.
"Yeah," Mike sighed, shaking his head with his lips pressed together, "that's exactly what I was thinking. You wouldn't have done anything differently to me."
Nikki pressed her lips together and squinted up at the ceiling. "I would have bought us more time."
"And we would have ended up standing here just like we are now, debating the right approach, Nikki." He paused and walked over to his girlfriend, recognizing her inner turmoil in her eyes. His hands ran over her shoulders.
Nikki's chin trembled, and a tear trickled down her cheek. "I had to arrest my mother today, Mike. For as long as I can remember, she's done everything she could to protect Ash and me, swept all our misdeeds under the carpet, and even went along with some of the outrages my sister and I have come up with. And I go to my parent's house today and arrest my mother. That's worse than the worst treason!"
"I know," he replied and pulled Nikki into his arms, who then began to sob. He closed his own eyes. "I know exactly what you mean, Nikki."
xxx
"That wasn't very clever of you. What was that all about?"
Rosalyn Vaughn, Elizabeth's defense attorney, entered the BPD's interrogation room just after 9 a.m.
She had already been informed about the previous night's events by consulting the files, and the defense attorney had also been informed about the incident at Mass Gen.
"I have my reasons," Elizabeth replied, the wound on her forehead still throbbing. "Is it in the fucking media? Is it being reported?"
Rosalyn Vaughn looked at her client, perplexed.
Elizabeth had dealt with it a few times before. Mostly, except for the beginning of Elizabeth's career, when Rosalyn had worked for the district attorney's office, they had been adversaries in court.
"I haven't seen or heard any news yet," the lawyer replied. "Instead, I've been familiarizing myself with your case; that's been busy enough!"
"The case doesn't matter at all at the moment," Elizabeth insisted. "You have to do something for me now!"
"What's wrong with you?" the defense lawyer wondered. Then she lowered her eyes slightly, and her voice changed as she continued: "This incident in the emergency room at Mass Gen is seriously worsening your situation. You threatened a doctor and wrestled with an officer. And why on earth did you call that journalist from the crosshairs?"
"I'll tell you all about it when you've made a phone call for me," Elizabeth urged unwaveringly.
"Elizabeth, this isn't about a bloody shoplifting incident! Please work with me now if you want me to do something for you!"
The captain had to realize that she had no choice but to give in. Her defense attorney could not make a phone call from the basement simply because of the lack of a wireless network. Under the circumstances, it was unlikely that Rosalyn would abandon the meeting with her client without achieving anything. The quickest way for Elizabeth to reach her destination would be to cooperate with Vaughn first. "All right, then, quickly."
Rosalyn Vaughn opened her briefcase and took out the documents on which she had summarized the most important charges against Elizabeth.
"Your office is being searched, and your laptop is being checked at work. Also, your cell phone. Your house will be searched around midday. I hope they don't find any severed fingers."
Elizabeth looked at her lawyer with a weakened expression.
Vaughn took a deep breath and licked her lips. "All right, the problem is that fibers from your cashmere coat were found at the scene of Mr. Matthai's murder," she continued.
"I was also in the apartment."
"But you weren't wearing the coat that day, according to all the witnesses. But you were wearing it on the day of the murder. We could argue that the fibers were on your trouser suit because you normally wear the coat over it. But no one saw you sitting on the chair where the perpetrator mutilated the body. And you were never alone in the apartment before the fibers were recovered. So where did these fibers come from?"
"Well, fibers, then," Elizabeth summarized casually. "What other evidence is there?"
Vaughn took a good look at her client and frowned a little. "We're about to be picked up for a lineup. The woman who rented the phaeton to the suspected perpetrator gave a personal description, including that of his companion, which points to you. The car was rented with the credit card of Paul Matthai, who had been murdered shortly before. That's very incriminating!" Vaughn informed Elizabeth while she kept tapping her feet and grabbing the bandage around her head. "We've also been able to interview the receptionist for Dr. Praetorius, who was killed. She also remembers a woman who had been in the surgery under a pretext a few days before the murder. Her description again matches yours. So do the employees of several other doctors' surgeries that your detective Mike Fisher visited yesterday."
Elizabeth pursed her lips and nodded slowly. "All you have to do is dress sensibly, and you'll look like me," she pointed out. "All those people out there have the memory of goldfish. They weren't describing me; they were describing my dress style."
"I'll tell the judge the same thing," Vaughn assured her. "Witnesses are usually very unreliable, and the judge knows that. Apart from the fact that you haven't necessarily been proven guilty of murder because you've been to doctors' surgeries or rented a car. But the judge will, of course, assess that in context."
Elizabeth still needs to respond to the reservations. "Can't we keep talking on the way to the lineup?" she asked instead.
"We're talking now!" Vaughn then made it unmistakably clear. "You don't have an alibi for any of the murders, do you?"
"I was having lunch at my favorite restaurant. The staff there know me."
Vaughn nodded slowly and looked at her notes again. "The murders weren't committed at lunchtime, but in the morning or afternoon," she stated matter-of-factly. "Your almost absurd description of the events will also make an impression on the judge. For example, when you got into the car, did someone talk to you about this ... um ... Levin Coppens?"
Elizabeth gritted her teeth and shook her head. Then, she shifted her position. "The rear windows were blacked out, and he approached me when no one was around. But why should I have said all this nonsense if I'm the murderer myself? I'm a captain in the BPD homicide squad. Don't you think I could have killed that doctor in a more sophisticated way?"
"That leads to the question of how the murders you're accused of are connected to the doctor's death sixteen years ago. BPD will also see if they can find any clues that might incriminate you in that case."
Elizabeth showed no interest in this news. "So when is this damn lineup?" she asked impatiently instead.
"In an hour. Then it's straight to the magistrate."
"And what does it look like? Is there enough evidence against me for an arrest warrant?"
Vaughn swayed her head back and forth indecisively. "If the eyewitnesses identify you, the air will be damn thin. Of course, the evidence is also serious - we'd better find a good explanation. And also where you got the credit card of a murder victim, which was later found on his body. And this story with the, wait, what else was it - exactly: Sanskrit."
Elizabeth looked at her lawyer, perplexed.
Vaughn nodded slowly. "Well, that seems very far-fetched. The judge might think you made this riddle up yourself."
"Fine by me," Elizabeth accepted the objection succinctly but gritted her teeth. "Can you please make this call for me now? It's a matter of life and death!"
Rosalyn exhaled heavily. "Just a moment, please," she replied, "because now we've come to the most important question. What motive could be attributed to you?"
Elizabeth paused and rubbed her face with both hands. "Let the bloody prosecutor come up with the motive," she replied indifferently after a few seconds.
Vaughn pressed her lips together again and remained silent. Instead, she scrutinized her client with a scrutinizing look. "Maybe you shouldn't take the stand at the trial," she finally suggested. "With a bit of luck, I'll get you released. As long as you lack a convincing motive, a direct witness to the crime, or compelling evidence of your guilt, it will be difficult for any judge. On the other hand, the charge is so serious that a judge won't be able to let you off without further ado. We should wait for the lineup first."
Elizabeth rolled her eyes. "Please, fine by me," she moaned and grabbed her wound. "Can you please make the phone call for me now?"
The lawyer finally nodded in agreement.
"I need you to tell someone that under no circumstances --"
"Captain Rizzoli," Vaughn interrupted her client. "If this is about manipulating possible eyewitnesses --"
"No, that's not the point," Elizabeth defended herself with wide eyes. "You just need to do something. But quickly!"
There was a knock on the door, and then it was opened, and an officer stepped into the interrogation room. "We're ready for the transfer now," he explained.
Elizabeth looked at her lawyer pleadingly.
Vaughn nodded so slightly that it was barely noticeable and then turned to the officer. "Please come back in two minutes," she pleaded. "I need to discuss something with my client."