The Polka Dot Girl

by Darragh McManus

  “Is that why she tried to kill me? Baton. Is that why? You thought I was closing in.”

  “She followed you from my Institute to the Zig-Zag. Yes, for the purpose of ending your life.”

  “And what about before that? On Datlow Street? I didn’t know a goddamn thing by then, I’d only just begun my investi- gation.”

  “That wasn’t meant to be you, Genie.”

  Banks of air and electricity collided like the end of the world—a roaring rumble, then a flash, pause, a flash again—as Odette joined the conversation. But then, she always knew how to make an entrance. I turned to her and said, “Really? Do tell me more, Odette. I really, you know, I wanna know.”

  She swallowed hard. “That day—the day Erika Baton almost ran you over—it wasn’t meant to be you. She thought you were Bethany Gilbert exiting my building. She obviously didn’t know what either of you looked like, you’re both such different sizes, frames…”

  “Were.” “What?”

  “We were such different sizes. Bethany is dead now, remember?”

  “Right. Right,” Odette stammered. “Yes, she, ah… Bethany was at my apartment. That day you called, I said I had a music student with me. It was her.”

  “What’s another fucking lie between friends, eh?”

  “I, I knew her. From before, I knew her. She was worried, sort of crazy… I talked to her, calmed her down. Told her not to worry, that everything would be okay. That Madam LaVey would take care of everything.”

  “Oh, yeah,” I snorted. “She took care of it, alright. She sure took good care of poor old Bethany.”

  Odette took a deep breath. “Bethany…needed to die. But we had to make it look like an accident—in this case, a road accident. When that didn’t work…”

  “You went onto Plan B. Right, I get it. ‘Plan Baton.’”

  I spat my cigarette onto the floor and thought about what Odette had just said. By her own admission she knew about the murder of Madeleine Greenhill, the attempt on Bethany Gilbert’s life, LaVey’s plans, everything. She knew that they’d tried to kill me. Finally, at that point, I was shocked: that someone I thought I knew so well could be involved with people and deeds like this. And then more shock: this had been going on all the time we lived together. Holy fuck. If I wasn’t a cynical and embittered woman before, I certainly was now.

  But Odette could wait—I needed to know more. The surrounding details, the scenery, then delving in, burrowing through to the main matter of business. I turned back to LaVey: “Dinah Spaulding. Why did she try to kill me? At that place, the private club.”

  LaVey stood and began pacing the floor, her robes dragging along it, creating an eerie effect in the candlelight; it looked like melted marble was flowing down her back. She said, “She was only supposed to burn That Island, but Dinah took it on herself to attack you. Ah, such devotion, true devotion to a cause, a higher calling…”

  “Burn it to destroy any evidence of your little—parties there.” She nodded.

  “So who did it, anyway? Who burned That Island? It wasn’t Spaulding, she couldn’t have. She was out cold.”

  LaVey smirked and nodded at Villegas. She didn’t react.

  I said, “And what’s with that, anyway, LaVey? All your little slaves. What’s with the blank eyes? Like a bunch of zombies. Dear old Dinah, she was a maniac that day but not a normal one. And believe me, I’ve dealt with enough of those to know ’em when I see ’em. Spaulding was like—like she was programmed.” I turned back to Villegas, standing near the door and staring straight ahead, not moving, hardly blinking. I said, “I mean, look at this one. She’s like a robot.”

  I took one hand off my head and waved it in front of Villegas’ eyes, clicked my fingers. No reaction. Klosterman barked, “Both hands on your head! Do it.”

  I did it and said, “All the women, the confessors. All the same.

  ’Cept for the blonde giant here, of course. So what’s with that?” “Orianne Queneau,” LaVey said, “is a master hypnotist. She has studied it for years. Decades. Her powers are remarkable. She can persuade any woman—any woman, Eugenie—to do anything she asks of them. Or anything I ask of her. Oh, of course all those women were believers anyway, but a little helping hand never hurts.”

  “Hypnosis. You’re kidding me. You have got to be joking.” She stopped pacing and looked at me. “I assure you I am not.

  Alejandra here is…how do I put this? Unaware: of her actions, of where she is; of who she is. She is a mere tool, to do my bidding.”

  “Did she burn the Institute too?”

  “It doesn’t really matter who, does it?” “No. I suppose not.”

  More lightning outside, and more and more, violent and lovely, brighter than anything womankind could ever create. And the rain was falling heavier and harder, thrashing onto the roof, flinging itself at the windows, pounding the sea, churning it, whipping it into a liquid frenzy.

  “But it was all so lame,” I said. “You do realize that, right? All that messing around with fake confessions. It was lame, LaVey. Amateurish. I’d’ve expected better from you. You should have known we’d figure out that none of those space-cadets had killed Madeleine.”

  “I did know. It was merely a means of slowing you down.” “Slowing me down until what?”

  “Until I worked out the best way of squaring off this whole thing.” She took a good long look at me, then a briefer look at Virginia, and nodded to herself, as if satisfied with what she saw.

  “I wanted to get you involved more deeply in this matter before making my final move—my coup de grace, if you will.” She leaned in and touched Virginia’s hair, caressing the ends of it as it hung over her bare shoulder. “You see, you’d already been seen leaving a few late-night bars with this slut…”

  I shouted “Don’t call her that, asshole!” Virginia slapped LaVey’s hand away and linked her arms through the crook of my elbow. Then she raised an eyebrow to me and gave an amused little smile.

  LaVey continued, “You’d got in too deep, Eugenie, lost your way… You were harassing me, threatening to frame me for the murder. Crazy. Gone off the deep end. The pressures of work, of trying to resolve this distressing case, why, it could affect anyone… That’s the story I shall be telling your superiors, and I have several highly respected women who will corroborate it. And here’s the closing chapter: you finally killed yourself, and them, in a bizarre love-triangle with your lover and little Miss Villegas here.”

  Jesus. Villegas didn’t even react. She was still totally blank- eyed.

  “One of those dreadful, tragic murder-suicide cases. The three of you will be found here, tomorrow morning, naked, with traces of narcotics in your blood—and dead. It will be easy enough then for your HCPD colleagues to link you back to Madeleine through Ms Newman. I shall—guide them in the right direction. Discreetly, of course. …I’m still not sure exactly why you and your beautiful friend killed Madeleine Greenhill; I haven’t quite decided yet. For money, perhaps. Or simple jealous rage. By that stage it won’t matter.”

  “Why,” I said. “That’s the fucking question, isn’t it: why, LaVey? Why did you kill Madeleine?”

  “I told you, I did not have her killed.”

  “Fine. Whatever. Why were you glad that she was dead?” “To protect me. From her mother ’s retribution.”

  Another stormy explosion. It was simultaneously thrilling and terrifying—Nature voiding its lungs, howling at us: “I am still here.”

  Tussing moved to one of the tables, still drawing a bead on me, and dexterously poured two glasses of wine. She handed one to Klosterman as LaVey said, “As simple as that. Misericordiae Greenhill is a fearsome woman, Eugenie. You do not know what she’s capable of—what she would have done to me had she found out what I was doing to her daughter.”

  “Well, hope springs eternal,” I said. “What were you doing, exactly?”

  “Misericordiae would have thought—I’m sure of this—she would have considered that I had r
uined the girl. When nothing could be further from the truth. I showed Madeleine a new world, I gifted it to her: a world of beauty and possibility, of everlasting life…”

  “Oh, cut the shit. Please, just… Cut it out. You might as well tell me the truth. Like you said, you’ve no reason to lie now.”

  LaVey smiled and put a finger to her lips. “Sharp as a tack… Very well. The truth: I initiated her into something she couldn’t handle, and it drove her into the arms of drugs and promiscuity. It unhinged her. She simply couldn’t handle it. Some women are weak like that. No fault on any side, that’s just how it goes sometimes, but Madam Greenhill almost certainly wouldn’t see it like that. And more importantly: I used the girl. She was stealing from her mother—for me. Of course, my Institute charges fees but… Well. Spiritual journeys aren’t cheap. The quest for truth isn’t cheap. And all of us, even the well-off, can always do with a little more.”

  Money. Of course. It’s always money. The basest instinct, the most common motive.

  “So yes—I was using her for money,” LaVey said. “And I kept using her. Why not? Why not squeeze every last drop out of that pampered brat? She would have only shoved it into her arm or down some floozy’s underwear anyway.”

  “You said she only took to drugs and sleeping around because of what you’d done to her. You admitted it yourself.”

  “I did—but the debauchery was only partly to blank out the reality of her life. Her unhappiness. Madeleine Greenhill had an inherent self-destructive streak anyway. I can tell these things. I have a gift for it. And eventually it would have killed her. That girl would have killed herself, one way or the other.”

  Virginia said quietly, her voice trembling, “You don’t know that. People change. Turn their lives around.”

  “I do know it, Virginia. And you do, too. Your loyalty to a friend is admirable, and touching. But you’re wrong.”

  I cut in: “It always comes back to why, though, doesn’t it? Why would Madeleine steal from Misericordiae? Just on your say-so? I can see people are easily impressed by you, with all your bullshit. But Madeleine saw through all that. She saw you for the charlatan you really are.”

  LaVey looked back at me. After a long pause she said, “You’re correct. Madeleine needed a little more persuasion than is usual.”

  “Did you hypnotize her, too?”

  “Oh, no. Hypnosis only lasts for a relatively short period, and its effects can be slightly…unpredictable. No, nothing so fancy as all that. For her we used good old-fashioned blackmail.”

  She gestured to Odette to give her the gun. My former lover handed it over with evident relief. She glanced at me like a puppy-dog that’s puked on the shag carpet. Sorry, sweetheart, there’s gonna be no forgiveness coming from this end. You’re on your own now. You’ve been on your own for a long, long time.

  LaVey trained the gun on me and said, “I came across some information about Madeleine. Specifically, the fact that she was actually the daughter of a VD-riddled whore. A woman called Rosemary Manning, a lush who sold herself for change and whiskey. Disgusting, really.”

  “The late Rosemary Manning. Stabbed to death this morning.

  But of course you wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”

  She didn’t answer. Instead she said, “I put it to the girl: how would the great and wonderful Misericordiae Greenhill feel if all of Hera City knew her precious daughter wasn’t really hers—but was adopted from a common prostitute? Her reputation, every- thing: ruined. Madeleine saw the sense in what I was saying. She agreed to…fund my ongoing investigations into the realms of enlightenment.”

  So Madeleine was also protecting her mother, even as Misery strove to protect her. So Madeleine wasn’t such a brat. So she was a loving and self-sacrificing daughter after all.

  “Eventually that gravy train ground to a halt,” La Vey said. “Madeleine was completely out of control near the end, and I didn’t know what she’d do. All that shame and regret, narcotics messing with her mind, fear of Mommy and guilt about what she was doing to her… I had to end it; with great regret, I might add. I couldn’t have her crack and tell her mother all about our little arrangement. I had even begun setting the wheels in motion—I had a woman earmarked for the job, a professional killer called Slaymaker. A name, I must say, which I find immensely amusing.”

  “She’s dead now, too,” I said. “Case you’re looking for someone in the future. You can knock her out of the Rolodex.”

  “Oh? Anyway, then, as I say, someone else took care of the problem for me. We arranged a meeting—my associate Odette here arranged it—I assured Madeleine this would be her final payment, there would be no more, her secret was safe with me. She set off for Whinlatter Docks to meet Odette, to hand over that one last pay-off.”

  “But instead you had Baton waiting.”

  “No!” LaVey looked like she was about to lose her temper. I think she would have struck me with her hand if the gun hadn’t been in it. Then she corralled her atypical loss of self-control and said smoothly, “Once more, Eugenie, and for the last time: I had nothing to do with that. No, the girl was not to be touched that night. Odette was to collect the money and leave. We would take care of the Madeleine problem soon afterwards; within a few days. I was putting the arrangements in place when I got the news. So, I cut Ms Slaymaker loose—a little gift to keep her quiet—then found out who had killed Madeleine and figured, well, she did such a good job for someone else…now she can do one for me.”

  “Supposing I believe this fucking fairytale: did Erika tell you who paid her to murder Madeleine?”

  “No. I didn’t ask. As I say, it suited me, so… Let sleeping dogs lie and all that.”

  “And you never got the money, correct?”

  “No. I assumed the woman had taken it, the assassin. But what was I supposed to do: lodge a complaint? I wrote is off as a price worth paying.”

  Madeleine knew she was going to her death that night. Not that it mattered, but she knew what was about to happen. Whether it was LaVey or someone else, whether she had the money or not, she knew.

  LaVey said, “Now, the two of you: kneel on the floor.”

  She waggled the gun at Virginia and me. We slowly got down onto our knees, the floor hard and uncomfortable beneath us. Then she said to Klosterman, “Anneka, go downstairs and keep watch. Make sure nobody comes near us. I don’t think we need you here anymore.”

  The giant trotted down the metal steps and Tussing moved forward to cover us. I caught her eye: “And you? What’s your story?”

  The girl shrugged. “Simple, really—money. My mom lost almost her entire fortune. My fucking fortune, actually. My inher- itance. I found out about two weeks before entering the LaVey Institute. That goddamn stupid bitch. The fucking dog would have made better investment choices.” The composed, overly polite façade had slipped, revealing the tough, manipulative little asshole underneath. She went on, “I was used to living well, and obviously I couldn’t admit these new circumstances to anyone. So I sponged off dear, sweet little Madeleine for a while, as long as I could. And then when Madam LaVey introduced me to The Goddess Rising, well…”

  I said drily, “I can almost see your eyes twirling like a one- armed bandit.”

  Tussing stepped forward, swapped the gun from right hand to left and smacked me, good and proper, on the cheek. Blood ran into my mouth and I heard Virginia distantly screaming, “Leave her alone!”

  Tussing smiled viciously. “Quiet, you whore. Or you’ll get a taste of the same.” She turned back to me: “I don’t really believe in any of it; all that mystical bullshit. But hey—I believe in the material benefits. Seems manna and God can co-exist.” Tussing smiled smugly.

  “Right,” I said. “Comparative Religion, isn’t it?” “That’s right.”

  “How’d that exam go for you?”

  She looked at me with some confusion, a little nervousness coming into the smile. “That…? Oh, the exam. Oh yes, I mentioned it to you. Ye
s, it went fine.”

  “Good. I’m glad to hear that.” I spat blood and saliva onto the floor at her feet. “Because that’s the last fucking exam you’re ever gonna take, May-Jay.”

  Tussing stepped back, disgusted, then kicked out at me, but there was no conviction in the kick. She was getting worried now. She turned to LaVey and said, “Can’t we just do it already? I mean, what the fuck…? Why are we waiting?”

  LaVey nodded reassuringly. “Alright, Mary-Jane. Yes, I think you’re right. I think it’s time.”

  Shit. Time—I needed time, needed to buy some time while I wracked my brains and tried to work out an escape plan. I’d been stalling pretty successfully but all to no avail: I still couldn’t see a way out. I didn’t know what to do but keep stalling.

  I said urgently, “Why didn’t you tell me you recognized Virginia at the theater that time? With Madeleine, the Lady Gregory thing. You knew who she was.”

  Tussing shrugged. “I did. I felt I had to say something about who Madeleine was with; you know, during that interview you did with me. Otherwise it might seem suspicious, like I was holding out on you for some reason. And I figured, hey, by mentioning the other girl was a blonde—you wouldn’t put two and two together. Might throw you off track or something.” She smirked. “Sure, I knew Virginia Newman. I don’t think there’s a girl on campus who doesn’t know her. Intimately.”

  Virginia snarled, “Fuck you, you skinny shit-bird. I wouldn’t sleep with you if you were the last woman left alive.”

  “Well, I may yet be, Virginia. But you won’t.”

  She cocked the hammer of her revolver and pressed it to the crown of my head. Virginia gasped in horror, I winced and grit my teeth. Then LaVey commanded, “Stop! Not like that. It has to be her gun, you idiot. They can tell these things. Where is it, Alejandra?”

  Villegas patted herself down, still staring like an imbecile. She pulled my Beretta from her back pocket and handed it to LaVey. Come on, Genie, do something, anything.