"Postmortem? How do you know the victim was dead?"
“Michael, so suspicious! You don't suppose—"
"I don't suppose anything. But I know what we need to do next. Elise’s mother has to be contacted and asked about Elise.”
"I've already got a call into her. I left a message on her machine. I told her to call me collect."
"What time is it in Paris right now?"
"Not for certain, but I think they're nine or ten hours ahead of us. Which makes it maybe eleven or twelve there, I'm not sure."
"Well, when she calls, patch me in. I need to hear this."
"I sure will."
Elise's mother, Sarah Milam, called us at three-thirty. "Hello? Mr. Rainsford?"
"Hello, Mrs. Milam, this is Marcel Rainsford. Thank you for returning my call. You haven't, by any chance, heard from the authorities or anyone else about Elise have you?"
"No. And Çidde is missing her desperately. She cries herself to sleep every night and asks me how come she no longer has a mommy or daddy. It's all I can do not to break down and start crying right in front of that child. I cannot tell you how much I miss my daughter, Mr. Rainsford. But here, let's have you talk. You called me. How can I help?"
"Well, this is going to sound quite bizarre, but I know you probably have pictures of Elise. In particular, what I'm looking for is a picture that shows the inside ankle portion of her right foot. Would you by any chance have anything like that?"
"My, that is a strange request. Let me see. I believe we took pictures at the pool party last summer when my other daughter got engaged. They wore swimming suits that night since it was so hot in the middle of July. I don't know, but maybe Elise was wearing a swimming suit in one of the pictures. I would have to go dig those out."
"Please go ahead and do that. I can wait since this is very important."
Marcel looked at me and shook his head. I knew exactly what he was thinking, and he was praying, like I was, that we would find a picture of the right inside ankle and it would be absent any tattoo. I asked Marianne to bring us some coffee while we were waiting, and she bustled around for five minutes or so before returning with a pot and 2 cups. Suddenly I heard Mrs. Milam's voice erupt on the speakerphone.
"You are not going to believe this, Mr. Rainford, but I do have a picture. It’s a picture of Elise's right foot and ankle where she is sitting with her legs crossed, smoking a cigarette, and making a face at the camera. Joseph is sitting right beside her and appears to be laughing at something. Probably one of the stupid jokes he was always telling."
"Let me ask you this, ma'am. Are there any marks or tattoos on the right inside ankle?"
"There is some Chinese writing. It looks like a vertical line with arms and legs and eyeballs, and a hat. It's on my computer. Would you like me to email it to you?"
"Yes. I would like that very much. And thank you for finding that. We're still looking up other leads, trying to find Elise, and we’ll get back to you if we know anything. Thank you so very much."
The emailed picture showed these characters:
母亲
They were the symbols on the inner ankle of Elise’s foot in the picture.
We studied the Chinese characters from the pool party picture and compared them to the Chinese symbol on the photograph taken from Jennifer's desk drawer. They were exactly the same. My heart fell. I looked up at Marcel, and I could tell he was feeling as sick as I was feeling. This had suddenly gone beyond the pale. This had suddenly become much more than a missing person case. I couldn’t tell you the sorrow I felt as my gaze shifted back and forth between the photographs.
Finally, Marcel broke the silence. "I think I'm going to be sick."
"You and me both. So what happens now?" I asked him.
"Number one, we do not know if Elise is alive or dead. The picture of the severed foot depicts a foot that has been dirtied somehow, and the toenails are mangled as if perhaps they were dragged on some rough surface. Go with me here. I'm simply looking at what I see and trying to make sense of it. Number two, if Elise is still alive, then she is in terrible shape. Whoever took her foot off would have to have considerable medical knowledge to know how to keep her alive after that. I'm guessing that means a physician took off the foot. A physician such as our Jennifer Ipswich happens to be."
I could taste the bile in my throat. I heard what he was saying, but my mind was somewhere else racing along. All I could think to say was that we needed to find Elise immediately. She was going to need medical care—if she was still alive. Who could say what else Jennifer might have done to her? I shuddered to think.
Marcel spoke up. "If you could do whatever you wanted to find Elise, what would be your first step?"
"Really? I would grab Jennifer, and I would force her to tell me the truth."
"And how far would you go with forcing her?"
"As far as it took."
"What if I follow her twenty-four-seven instead? Reason I ask, if Elise is alive, at some point, Jennifer will go to her. That's all it will take. If Elise is dead, then Jennifer will not go to her. Then we'll know that, too. Either way, I'm guessing it wouldn't take any more than a week to prove my theory. What do you say, Boss?"
"I don't see any other way. If I had my druthers, I would take her out in the woods, make her strip off her clothes, and hang her from the nearest branch.”
"Wow, rough, boss, rough. I'm going to play like you didn't say that."
"I'm going to tell you something, Marcel. If she doesn't lead you to her in the next seven days, then I'm going to grab her and take her to those woods. At that point, it's game over."
"Boss, I believe you. I believe that when you're pushed hard enough, you will do that exact thing. Lord only knows. I hope it isn't necessary. The guilt would kill you."
"The guilt of not doing it would kill me even faster, Marcel."
58
Michael
It couldn't wait. The photograph was so damning that I had to take action. I jumped into my car and drove to the hospital, where they had taken Jennifer for her gunshot. There was a chance she was still there, and I would prefer to confront her someplace away from her home and away from her work. The hospital seemed a natural choice.
I still had my voice-activated recorder tucked in my shirt pocket, ready to catch her confession when I confronted her.
I checked in at the nurses' station and got her room number. I went down to the end of the hall and entered the last door on the right. The curtain was drawn since it was a semiprivate room. An older woman with an oxygen mask strapped to her face occupied the first bed just outside the curtain.
I called her name, "Jennifer."
“Is that you, Michael?” she responded.
I told her it was, and she invited me in through the curtain. I found the opening and entered.
Jennifer was lying on her back in her bed with her foot elevated by two pillows.
"I don't get out until tomorrow," she told me. "Which really pisses me off."
"How are you feeling?" I asked.
"I feel great. They’ve already had me up and around. I need to use a walker, but other than that, I feel fine. Maybe you can sweet-talk the doctor for me and help me get out of here later today."
I pulled the foot photograph out of my inside jacket pocket and passed it to her. "Please look at this. I want you to tell me why you took this picture."
Jennifer studied the picture, holding it near and then far. Then she tossed it onto the sheet and said, "I'm giving it back. It's a gruesome photograph, and I have no idea what it is about. Where did you get this, Michael?"
"This was found in your desk drawer on a SanDisk drive. It was the same drawer where you keep your camera. Beyond that, I'm not going to tell you how it was obtained. Please explain why you have this."
"I have no idea where this came from. Probably you should have asked Joe while he was still alive since that is his camera inside that desk drawer, not mine."
"Well,
unfortunately, I never met Joe. So I'm asking you instead because it was your desk. The truth of the matter is, the picture was taken off of a SanDisk that had been erased. Someone was trying to get rid of the picture, and we were able to restore it from the drive."
"Well, you have the wrong person. That camera belonged to Joe, and I cannot explain what he was up to. I know that sometimes he had the camera with him when he went to France, but I assume he was using it in his work and never bothered to look at anything on it. I'm sorry, Michael, but you're talking to the wrong person."
"Do you recognize the foot in the photograph?"
"Absolutely not! Why would you even ask that?"
"It's a fair question. The photograph was found on a disk in your house. You've had sole ownership of the house and sole possession of the house ever since Joe's death. It's only natural you would be asked about the picture of a severed foot inside your desk."
"That desk is Joe's desk. My desk is in my bedroom."
For a moment, I lost the thread of what I was trying to accomplish. She was so smooth and so facile in her delivery that I found myself believing her. But then I snapped out of it. "Jennifer, the police have searched the lake where you said Elise threw the gun that shot you. So far, the police divers have found nothing like a gun. Did you actually see her throw the gun into the water?"
"Yes, I did. For your information, the police were here and asked me a world of questions, and I answered them truthfully. You can probably get my statement from them, being a lawyer and all." As she said this last part, she leaned back in her bed. As the sheet fell away from her upper body, I could see she was wearing a UCSD sweatshirt. The curtain parted at that moment, and Jennifer's nurse entered.
Ignoring me, the nurse said, “All right, Doctor Ipswich, the bathroom is empty now. Please sit up in bed and use your walker to stand. " Jennifer smiled at me and shrugged. I stood back to allow her to pass by once she was up and moving slowly with her walker. As she went by, I caught a glimpse of the back of her sweatshirt. It read, Elise.
When I saw the sweatshirt, it was all I could do not to cry out and accuse her of something terrible. So I kept it inside and, as coolly as I could, I watched her pass through the curtain.
I had come here to confront her about the photograph, and I had done that. She had sidestepped me by claiming that the camera and the pictures were the work of Joe. The problem was, at the time Joe died, Elise was still alive and still had both of her feet. So, blaming Joe was not going to work, but I decided to let her think it had worked and cease the confrontation.
When she returned to the room, I told her I had come by only because I was concerned about her and concerned about Joe's pictures. She again pleaded ignorance about the images and asked me what I was going to do with them. I told her I would do nothing, and maybe Joe had taken the pictures concerning some medical case he was working on. And I left it at that.
I excused myself, went out to the elevators, went out to my car, and left.
Now there was a foot to be found.
I dreaded the search.
59
Michael
Out of the blue the next day and ramming her walker through my door came Jennifer. She clutched a folder of papers. She hopped behind her walker over to my desk, looking enraged and out of control.
“I’ve been sued!” she cried out. “That no-good bitch sued me!”
“Whoa, whoa,” I said and directed her to a chair. “Take a deep breath, and then we’ll talk.”
She pushed the papers across the desk at me. I did a cursory review of the four-page document she had handed me and realized that I was looking at the lawsuit Elise had filed against Jennifer earlier. Jennifer had taken the lawsuit and substituted dates to look like Elise was suing her yet again. Whether or not the signatures were genuine, I had no way of knowing. But my guess was they were probably forged. I looked up and asked Jennifer what happened.
"The sheriff came to my office and served me with these papers. This horrible person named Elise is suing me again! Isn't there some way we can stop this and make her go away?"
I had no choice but to go along with this. "We can discuss filing a counterclaim against her for the same accounting and temporary support she is seeking from you."
The whole thing was ridiculous. The court had already modified the temporary support, and Judge Adamson had rendered an award. Moreover, Judge Adamson had already divided the property, and there would be no reason on earth Wilder or any other lawyer would fashion this lawsuit and file it again.
It was so bogus, yet I knew better than to challenge her at that moment. Instead, I would find out where this was going. It dawned on me that she made every effort to make me believe that Elise was alive and well and still pulling strings. The emails from "Elise," and the Elise lawsuit she had brought me, plus the change in makeup and the emails and the brick through the window—all done to make me believe Elise was alive and well and presenting Jennifer as someone I should be interested in romantically.
I pretended I was incensed at the lawsuit. "We can't let her get away with this! I'm going to go to Paris and take her deposition immediately! Then I'm going to file papers with the court and get this case dismissed. Please try to do your job at work, take care of your patients, and allow me to make this go away."
"I already checked with the courthouse. The case is actually on file there and has Elise's signature. I would know it anywhere."
"As I said, I will go to Paris and make her present herself at a deposition. I will demand that she explain why she is doing this again when the court has already decided the same case. It's preposterous. Please bear with me while I make this go away through the proper channels."
"Michael, I knew I could count on you. I can always count on you, can't I?"
"You can always count on me, Jennifer, for legal advice and legal help. Yes, I'm here to help you, one professional to another."
She actually had a look of relief on her face.
Once Jennifer had left my office, I immediately called Frank Wilder.
"Frank, I have to tell you that I'm distraught for Elise's welfare. Certain things have come to my attention that make me believe something bad has happened to Elise. I'm going to dummy up a deposition notice to take Elise's deposition in Paris. I don't expect you to be there unless you want to be. I believe that Jennifer will be there since I tried to force "Elise" to present herself at the deposition. I believe that Jennifer will somehow interfere or take steps to explain away the fact that Elise is not going to appear. Frank, I'm afraid something terrible has happened to your client."
"Michael, we’ve been bonkers over here, looking for Elise. Her mother knows nothing. The neighbors in her building know nothing, the family knows nothing, and her work knows nothing. Now and then, her mother receives emails from Elise's email account, telling her that she doesn't want to be in touch right now, but everything is good with her. She thanks her mother for looking after Çidde and then disappears again. We are sick with worry. Of course, I will go to Paris with you to find out what happens. Have you confronted Jennifer yet about any of this?"
"Not yet, but I have asked her about various things, and she always manages to sidestep me. I think this next action of going to Paris is going to bring it all to a head. And I have to say I'm happy you're going to be there. Maybe you can help me control what happens. I'm also going to be sending you a copy of the so-called lawsuit Jennifer is now claiming Elise has filed against her. You will see that it is the same lawsuit that you and Elise did, in fact, file against Jennifer. The dates have now been changed to make it look like a new lawsuit, but in all other respects, it's the same damned paperwork."
"To say I'm stunned is an understatement. But at least somebody is thinking and taking action that I certainly agree with. I will be there in Paris with you. Maybe we can talk again before then. In the meantime, if I hear anything, I will contact you. I would appreciate you do likewise."
"Of course."
&
nbsp; We then hung up. So, all efforts to locate Elise had returned empty-handed.
I just felt awful and disheartened. I was afraid I knew what was coming, but I didn't want to think about it.
At least not yet.
60
Jennifer
Jennifer Ipswich had saved the voicemail recordings from Elise Ipswich when Joseph had become ill until he died. For the most part, the recordings were panicky, but the earlier ones contained messages regarding everything from their daughter's illness to Elise's work at LVP Partners.
In the quiet of the evening, Jennifer began playing Elise's messages and speaking along with them. After a dozen times through, she was starting to capture the voice. Ten times later, she felt she was doing an excellent job of mimicry. She was able to comment about things she expected might come up during Elise's deposition. Even up until the night before the deposition, Jennifer was practicing her voice.
Jennifer had taken over Elise's telephone and her email and Twitter accounts. Her parts were coming together and she was feeling stronger, more whole, by the day. She knew full well the items she would need to continue to impersonate Elise, her husband’s other wife. Meanwhile, Joseph himself could rot in hell as far as Jennifer was concerned. He was the reason for the terrible things she had had to do.
“Elise” then sent an email to all parties that she could only attend the deposition by phone.
61
Michael
When I received an email from “Elise” saying that she couldn’t be present for the deposition, I decided not to bother to fly to France. Elise wouldn’t be there. It would all happen by long distance telephone—a land line in my office.
Girl, Under Oath (Michael Gresham Series) Page 19
