by Agnès Ruiz
“Perhaps as some form of humiliation,” Rachel suggested.
The doctor thought for a while and consented to this. Then he continued his explanations.
“The murderer carved the flesh as one draws a line horizontally. There was no foreign tissue or fiber in the wound. These wounds are sharp and deliberately non-lethal. Then a fairly deep slash was inflicted on the victim’s right cheek. The criminal surely wanted to get something from her.”
“Or have her husband talk?” Jeff suggested.
Raoul Corpus’s sharp gaze fell on the investigator. He seemed to hesitate, perhaps weighing this hypothesis.
“It’s possible,” he finally agreed. “The woman also received a violent blow to the face; on her eye and her arch. Blood spurted immediately. She probably fell back. It’s most probable that she lost consciousness for some time. Her husband was treated alike; coming out with a broken nose.”
“These wounds seemed to have been inflicted before those thugs got hold of a knife?” the detective asked with interest.
“Before. Blood began clotting,” Raoul Corpus nodded in assent.
“I think the blows came to subdue the two victims; to tie them up.” Rachel analyzed.
Detective Toury decided there was more than one murderer, at the risk of returning to a single criminal, if necessary, depending on how the investigation would go.
He looked at the room, cold and sad, not different from a morgue, for sure. An atmosphere more laden than usual prevailed, as if these two bodies were too excruciating to be there, before everyone’s eyes.
Rachel Toury was getting impatient. She wanted to get details of what Raoul Corpus could find from the bodies. Knowing him, she could simply not ask him to hurry up. Things had always been as such, having to wait.
“The mortal blow came from this wound. The blade had caused fatal internal hemorrhagic lesions.”
He showed a wide slit not far from the heart. He had just completed his analysis and resolutely turned to the man to continue:
“The husband had sought to defend himself. Undoubtedly before being subdued and tied up, like his wife. See the bruises on his fists. His has a fractured wrist. He also received two stab wounds, one on the side. The blade, however, spared the organs. It’s up to you to determine if it’s pure coincidence.”
“The killer(s) came for the couple’s lives, there is no doubt about it,” Jeff concluded.
“In this way... It’s monstrous,” Raoul Corpus said gravely.
“What did they do to deserve this?” Rachel asked in a loud voice.
Jeff and the doctor turned to her, taken aback by this question.
Chapter 4
Several elements of this new case had gone to the laboratory for analysis. For the time being the person(s) who had committed these two murders had left no exploitable evidence.
In her office, Rachel looked at the sign where the photos were pinned. She went closer to the enlargement on the right. The trunk had been opened and emptied; did its content justify such torture?
“ A hideous act anyway,” Rachel commented. I cannot wait to meet the couple’s daughter. We need to know more about her.
“She wasn’t even there,” Jeff protested. She can’t be a suspect.
Rachel Toury pinched her lips.
“You know, as I do, that you cannot get away so quickly from this painful story. She will obviously be the first to be affected by these crimes and to benefit from them. Sometimes I really do not want to say such things,” the detective conceded, sighing.
Her phone rang. It was reported that Annabelle Rambouillet had just arrived and that she was waiting in the lobby.
Rachel thanked the officer at the front desk and said she would be back.
She knew what the daughter of the two victims looked like. She had seen several pictures of her at the Rambouillets’. The most recent one seemed to be the one placed on the fireplace. Annabelle Rambouillet smiled. She wore her college uniform, the traditional headdress with the black gown.
The detective had removed the portrait and taken it to her office for the record. She looked closely at the cliché as if trying to tap into those laughing eyes, filled with pride for this memorable day.
“I wonder what effect it is, brandishing her certificate, glinting a great career as a lawyer ... Who are you, Miss Rambouillet?”
Rachel closed the folder and walked into the hall. She spotted Annabelle easily. The young woman had decided to remain standing, neglecting the numerous chairs that were there for visitors. A young brown man was seated and seemed to be waiting. He was nervous and looked everywhere. Rachel noted that he regularly looked at his cell phone.
She turned her attention back to Annabelle.
“Good morning, Miss, I’m Rachel Toury. I’m investigating into the killing of your parents. We spoke briefly on the phone yesterday. Please accept my heart-felt condolences.
Annabelle contented herself with nodding. Her face was white and beleaguered. The night had obviously been difficult.
“Thank you for coming so quickly.”
“That’s perfectly normal,” Annabelle finally whispered.
“I can give you a coffee, maybe?”
Annabelle shrugged her shoulder, as if she were indifferent. Rachel decided that they needed both of them and got things going in the corridor. She handed over the Styrofoam glass.
“Will you come with me, we can talk while going round.”
“Can my friend come too? Annabelle demanded.
She pointed to the man sitting on the chair. Annabelle’s eyes seemed to beg her to admit her request.
“I’m sorry,” Rachel said, “I’d rather have an interview in private, if you do not mind.
Still this indolent shoulder movement,” the detective noted mentally.
Rachel Toury appreciated that Annabelle did not insist on imposing her companion in their interview. That was sometimes the case and it only complicated the exchange and confidences.
“My colleague can talk a little with your friend,” Rachel suggested. “Are you... intimate?”
That was perhaps too direct for the newcomer. Yet the detective had to get an idea.”
“Yes. Jonathan and I go out together.”
As she walked past Jeff’s office, she demanded a moment from the young woman and spoke briefly with Investigator Millet.
She finally led Annabelle into a rather neutral room. It was neither an interrogation room nor a most friendly place. The room had bare walls, if not a whiteboard and window which looked out on the back, with garbage cans.
“Very well, mademoiselle. I’m going to have to ask you a few questions. Some may seem unpleasant, even invasive... or upsetting.”
“You’re doing your job,” Annabelle conceded, to Rachel’s surprise.
Was it her lawyer training that had prepared her for this kind of scenario? That was likely. The detective had to take this into account for the behavioral analyses she carried out during her investigations.
“Your parents were well-off, there’s no doubt about that. So, I would like to know whether they had any particular property.”
“So precious that someone would have killed them?”
“That is the idea, indeed. The chest was not forced. I think your father was forced to open it under pressure from the criminals.”
Rachel avoided mentioning that he had seen his wife tortured by the criminals who wanted access to the contents of the safe, precisely.
“They were several?”
“We do not rule out this possibility.”
“My parents were good people, you know. They never made scenes. They had nothing to hide. Actually, I forgot that they had this chest. I supposed it was empty and useless.”
The detective noted the information and added a question mark. Could she believe it? Since when did the couple have this cache? It was pretty easy to find for someone living there.
“How long have you lived in Toronto, Mademoiselle Rambouillet?”
>
“Six years.”
“And how were your relations with your parents?”
Annabelle got carried away by the disturbing questions. She assured them that they got along wonderfully.
“I am their only daughter...”
“Why Toronto, then? Montreal has excellent universities.”
Annabelle lowered her head, her eyes fleeing before the obvious.
“I... I wanted to live my life.”
“Your parents were too protective with you?” Rachel tried.
“Often. I loved them, you must believe me. And now... now, it’s too late, I would not see them again.”
Annabelle cracked under remorse and wept. This was not the first time she was shedding tears, from her dark circles and puffy eyes. Between two sobs, Annabelle lamented, assuring that she should have stayed in Montreal for her studies.
“I was so selfish. They only wanted my good, that I should be happy.”
“Sometimes we make choices that seem fair to us, but less so for others,” Rachel tempered.
“Can I see them, please?”
Rachel would have preferred to wait. The couple in the morgue was in a sad state. Annabelle insisted so much that the detective made a phone call to Raoul Corpus.
“He’s going to receive you, in half an hour if it suits you.”
“Thank you.”
Chapter 5
Detective Toury asked to know what the Rambouillet couple did for a living. Annabelle was vague, even disinterested.
“My parents were in business. I do not know more.”
The young woman paused. Rachel watched her and waited for her to say more, by herself. Annabelle had laid her two hands flat on top of each other on the table that separated them. She sometimes raised her gaze. She stood upright. She was a young girl from a good family, in every respect.
“Do you think their money finally aroused envy?” Annabelle asked, “there have been other thefts in the area?”
“Not to my knowledge. The investigation has only just begun. And your tuition? Who paid it?”
“My parents. They were generous with me, no doubt. They wanted me to concentrate entirely on my studies.”
That’s laudable.
Annabelle shrugged her shoulders. Again, Rachel noted. Was it a mania she had or a sign of discomfort? She’d have to find out.
“Do you suppose anything other than a theft?”
“To be frank, we have nothing for now.”
Rachel Toury looked at Annabelle straight in the eyes. She read anger. However, the young woman remained silent for a few seconds before nodding.
“It’s too early, I suppose. Of course, am I foolish?
“You’re quite upset. This is a normal reaction given the situation. Believe me, we all want to get to the bottom of this delicate inquiry.”
“Do your best.”
“We can count on you, I suppose.”
Annabelle frowned and Rachel continued:
“I would like to return to your parents’ home with you if you have time.”
“To do what?” Annabelle exclaimed fiercely.
She had also slipped back into her chair, as if she were even refusing this idea.
“We would like to know if something is missing. You are the most qualified for that.”
“That’s true. But it is... difficult.”
“I can’t hide it from you. Only, your parents deserve the best.”
Annabelle pinched her lips, with her eyes resting on the wooden slats of Rachel’s desk. Finally, she took a long breath.
“If you think it is necessary, we could go as soon as I saw them. So that we get that done fast. I have formalities to fulfill, make funeral arrangements, and, you can imagine ...”
Rachel confirmed.
“I think we can go down to the morgue now,” she said rising.
“You have no further questions?” Annabelle was surprised.
“Always, but they can wait, nothing very urgent.”
As she walked through the corridors, Detective Toury continued to gather information, under cover of an innocuous conversation. She learned that Annabelle’s parents wanted her to open a law firm in the west of Montreal, to be entirely funded by them.
“They were surely very proud of your success,” Rachel said, leaning slightly to attract confidences.
“I suppose.”
The answer comforted Rachel. She was too neutral. Yet, the many portraits of Annabelle at the home of the Rambouillets showed a real love for their child. So what was the problem or discomfort?
At the morgue, Raoul took matters into his own hands. To the surprise of the detective, he was careful with the daughter of the victims.
For the first time since she started working with him, he was attentive and warm to prepare Annabelle to pay a last tribute to her parents. She even wondered if he was not doing too much. She contented herself with watching him stealthily.
The young woman was sensitive to his delicacy. Nevertheless, she was shocked when Raoul removed the sheet covering her mother. The pain had been palpable when it had been her father, but for her mother, Annabelle would probably have collapsed if the forensic doctor had not had the presence of mind to retain her vigorously.
“Sit for a moment and put your head between your knees. Blood will flow to your temples and replenish your brain. You have just experienced one of the worst situations. Follow my advice and you will feel a little better, physically, anyway.”
Rachel was expecting the young woman to protest. That she give assurances that she was fine. Instead, she leaned down obediently and stayed a good time.
The silence of the morgue was interrupted only by the noises inherent in the room, without forgetting the wall clock which chanted the seconds without blinking.
Raoul Corpus was always attentive. Next to Annabelle, he exchanged a long glance with the detective who was watching this disturbing scene. He added nothing, finally offered his condolences to Annabelle before giving her a firm handshake.
“Do the right thing, doctor, for my parents,” Annabelle said before turning away.
“You can be sure, mademoiselle.”
Rachel thought it best to point out that Raoul Corpus was an expert and probably the best with whom she had the chance to work.
“He will not neglect anything, rest assured.”
The two women took an appointment for the afternoon in front of the Rambouillets’ home.
Chapter 6
The rain fell on the body of the car. The sky was so low that Jonathan had to drive slowly. The hissing of the tired wipers that rubbed irregularly on the windshield irritated Annabelle. She had the impression that this noise was amplified for some reason. If only it could keep her from thinking about the recent events... That was not the case. Seated on the passenger side, the young woman was crying. Jonathan tried to support her in her immense sorrow. He only stirred up her anger.
“I only want to help you,” Jonathan tried to justify.
“You cannot. You understand that? Nobody can... Except Grégoire, maybe.
Jonathan shivered at the name that was springing up. He had met Annabelle’s childhood friend for the first time yesterday evening, learning the facts from Annabelle’s mouth. And from the start, he decided he did not like this guy. Antipathy seemed to be shared by both sides.
Annabelle blew her nose and wiped her eyes before looking in the mirror on the passenger side.
I’m horrible to scare, she cried.
“You just lost your parents.”
“Thank you, I forgot!” she snapped, with a muffled anger on her lips. Then she said that was silly, the expression “lost”!
“What do you mean?”
“Think a little,” she muttered. “We lose keys, business. Not people! They die. And I’m... an orphan!
She was silent, and sobbed in her throat.
“Annabelle, what’s wrong with you? You’re no longer yourself.”
“And how would you react i
f your parents were murdered so brutally?”
Condemnation put an end to their quarrel. Annabelle demanded that he should drop her at her neighbors’.
“You want to meet that Grégoire again?”
“Yes. And you can go back to the hotel.”
“Maybe I can stay with you a little longer.”
Annabelle did not mistake her request. With a dry voice, she insisted and gave a deathblow to Jonathan’s wishes who blushed at the remark.
“Don’t be worried, I’d pay for the room, take my card, as usual.”
“I can still settle the hotel bill; I’m not as broke as you think!” he snapped out.
He had acrimony in him now and he resented Annabelle for belittling him once more. He was a student who was pulling money out of her and then? All his schooling had suffered. His mother always ran after the slightest dollar and his father did not even know him.
“That’s not it... “Annabelle said, with little effort.
“I really feel like I’ve been kind of a burden since you returned,” Jonathan interrupted her. “I should go back to Toronto right now.”
Annabelle suddenly fainted at the real threat. Had she gone too far? It happened to her on occasion. Finally, to be honest, often!
What if Jonathan wanted to talk to Detective Rachel Toury? What if he told her what he knew about her? Was he really a complication? She asked for the first time.
“You would not do that, I need you,” she screamed; putting everything on her explosive temper and playing the card of disarray.
“You need me,” Jonathan joked bitterly. “It does not look like. You’re doing everything so I can leave.”
“I just have to step back... breathe. To confront this past, that has just returned to me suddenly.”
Her voice was now calmer. Jonathan even had to make an effort to listen and catch the words of his girl friend. He suddenly wanted to go down and hug her, protect her.
She often hated this kind of behavior at home. It was as if she refused to be watched over. She shouted to anyone who wanted to hear that she was strong enough to fend for herself. It may have been true, in fact.
