Girl With The Origami Butterfly

by Linda Berry

  “Selena, call me. You’re in danger,” she practically shouted. She clicked off and punched out a quick text: “Selena, call me as soon as you get this!” Then she called Granger.

  “Hey, Chief.”

  “Where’s Selena?”

  “She went out.”

  “Where?”

  “She said she was running a quick errand. Hold on, maybe Ann knows.”

  Sidney heard voices in the background, and Granger came back on. “She’s dropping off cookies to a friend down the road.”

  “What friend?”

  She heard mumbled voices again.

  “Derek Brent. Why does that name sound familiar?” Granger paused a beat. “Christ. He’s on our suspect list. He was Mimi Matsui’s keyboardist.”

  “I thought he was in a wheel chair, living out of town,” Sidney said, voice rising, fighting a touch of panic.

  “So did I. That’s why he missed our dragnet. Hold on.” She heard him direct another question at Ann.

  Long mumbled answer.

  “Ann says he’s fully recovered, and he’s in Selena’s yoga class. He moved back to town two months ago and lives just down the road from here.” She heard him cuss under his breath. “I remember Miko saying Derek and Mimi had some kind of beef a couple weeks before she died.”

  “If he’s doing yoga, he’s probably strong enough to drag a woman through the woods. Let’s get over there.”

  “I’m leaving right now.”

  Sidney ran out of the house, screeched out of the driveway, and headed north on the highway. The hiss of the Yukon’s tires on the wet asphalt played in the background while images from the past few days flashed through her mind: the impression of a body on her sister’s bed, the unlocked window, the framed photo of Selena and Randy smashed on the kitchen floor—and now the phony AC adapter. All this painted a sinister picture of a stranger stealing into the house who was obsessed with her sister. She recalled Granger’s tale of a dark figure lurking in the woods behind Ann’s house. Sidney now theorized that it wasn’t Ann he was watching, but Selena. The stranger might be her serial killer, stalking her sister as his next victim. Her hands tightened on the steering wheel.

  Her phone buzzed and she saw it was the forensic tech working in Sand Hill on Satoshi’s house. She pushed the button on her dashboard. “Chief Becker.”

  “Tom Briggs, here.”

  “Whatcha got, Tom?”

  “I just finished up at Satoshi’s place. Lifted prints from about a dozen individuals. Ruling out the moving men, whose prints are on file, two men should be of interest to you—James Abbott and Derek Brent.”

  Sidney gasped. “Tell me about Derek.”

  “You know him?”

  “I’m headed to his house right now. What do you have?”

  “His prints are in the kitchen, studio, and bathroom. My guess, he’d been a frequent visitor. And, he owns homes in both Sand Hill and Garnerville.”

  Sidney’s thoughts raced. “No prints on the bedroom window?”

  “Didn’t say that. We got a nice palm print on the glass. Clear as day. Can’t ID it, though. No palm prints in the system. But someone recently ejaculated on the floor of the bedroom where the bed used to be.”

  Sidney felt a spike of adrenalin. The killer had revisited Satoshi’s bedroom, laid on the floor, relived his crime to get his rocks off, and left forensics a gift of DNA, which would seal his conviction.

  “Early Christmas present, Chief. You’ve got the bastard. I’ll rush this sample through the lab. By tomorrow, we’ll know his identity. See if we get a match to Abbott or Brent.”

  “Good job, Tom.” Her heightened expectation of closing in on her suspect was layered with a sense of dread. Sidney clicked off and tried Selena’s number again. No answer.

  “Stay cool,” Sidney told herself aloud in the car. She called Judge Seymore Whitman, summed up the evidence and requested a search warrant for Derek Brent’s property. Then she got on the radio to Darnell, told him to swing by the judge’s house, pick up the warrant, and get to Brent’s house with Amanda.

  Switching on the pulsing lights, Sidney stepped on the gas and took the curves on the slick highway as fast as she dared.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  HALF A DOZEN large marine aquariums burbled in Derek’s lab, and the work counters were covered with scientific equipment. A mini reef of vibrant coral grew inside each tank, and a colorful variety of cone-shaped shells were half buried in white sand.

  “You were right, Derek. These are spectacular,” Selena said, awestruck. “Where are these mysterious sea snails you’re so excited about?”

  “You’re looking at them.” He pointed to the sand at the base of a tank. “Inside those beautiful shells are some of the most venomous creatures on Earth.”

  “Really? Snails?”

  “You bet. The sting of a small snail is no worse than a bee sting, but a sting from the larger species, nicknamed the ‘cigarette snail,’ is lethal.”

  “Why are they called cigarette snails?”

  “If stung by one of these babies, you’re dead in the time it takes to smoke a cigarette. About three minutes.”

  “Aren’t they dangerous to work with?”

  “Sure, if you don’t know what you’re doing. But I know how to milk their venom and collect samples safely. Then comes the fun part. Research. Breaking down the molecular structure of the toxins.”

  Didn’t sound like fun to Selena. “Can you make one come out of its shell?”

  “They’re nocturnal and shy. But I’ll make one of the bigger ones appear for you.” Derek fished around with a net in a tank of darting fish until he captured a squirming orange and white striped fish about five inches long. “This is my food tank. Live meals for the snails.” He slipped the fish into a tank that appeared to hold no life other than coral. “The animal’s vibrations through the water will alert the snail. Watch and learn.”

  As the fish fluttered, the sand at the bottom of the tank started shifting. The tapered end of a cone shell emerged with a protruding rubbery hose-like mouth. The snail froze. The fish drew near. With lightning speed, a thin line shot out from the snail’s mouth and impaled the fish. The fish instantly became immobile and the snail reeled it in. To Selena’s astonishment the tiny mouth expanded like a balloon and swallowed the entire fish, two times its size. Bloated, like a snake after a meal, the snail buried itself back in the sand and disappeared. The hair stood on Selena arms. It was grotesque.

  “Fascinating, isn’t it?” Derek’s eyes were bright with enthusiasm, like a kid sharing a new Christmas toy. “They’re one of the slowest creatures on Earth, yet they’ve evolved to skillfully hunt far speedier animals. There’s a harpoon on the end of the lasso that’s no bigger than an eyelash. The venom stuns the fish, then the snail swallows it and digests it whole.”

  “An efficient killing machine. The snail doesn’t even have to move. Can a human survive a sting?”

  “Depends on how much toxin gets absorbed. You could survive a light dose, but you’d be paralyzed for weeks, even months. I’ve seen patients in hospitals in Viet Nam who were fully conscious but couldn’t twitch a muscle. Not even an eyelid.”

  Selena’s body went rigid. She recalled Sidney saying that before Samantha Ferguson was murdered she had been injected with a neurotoxin that had the same effect. The coincidence frightened her.

  Derek went on talking. “These patients were prisoners in their own bodies, fed by IV tubes, yet their minds were alert and active.”

  “That’s horrifying.” Selena forced her voice to remain calm, her face expressionless, though her hands had gotten clammy.

  “It’s scary stuff, but that power can also be used for good. The venom has the potential of being a pain reliever a thousand times stronger than morphine.” He nodded at a stainless steel refrigerator door. “I have multiple samples in there from different species.”

  “It’s like storing nuclear waste.”

  He chuckled.
“Nothing that dangerous. And my lab is safe and secure.”

  Selena shifted from one foot to the other. “Thank you for showing me your snails. Your work is fascinating.”

  His gaze met hers, and she realized he was standing uncomfortably close, emanating his strange intensity. She suddenly felt smothered by the locked room and his presence and the emotional connection he wanted from her that she was unable to give. She looked away, breaking eye contact.

  A long moment passed, then he said in a dull tone, “Ah, I know you need to get going.” He led the way back to the thick metal door and plugged in a code. She felt relieved when she stepped back into the house and heard the loud clink of the door locking behind them.

  Her fear abated as she followed Derek down the hallway, closer to the great room and the front door where she could escape. Wary, she peered into open doorways; a bedroom, a home gym—expecting what? A dungeon with chains? She paused in the doorway of a dimly lit room. “What do you do in here? Is that a shrine?”

  He stopped beside her. “Nothing that pretentious. Just a quiet room where I meditate. Do a little yoga.”

  The serene peacefulness drew her inside. The walls were bare except for a gold and red silk tapestry of a dragon in the sky. “That’s beautiful. Chinese?”

  “Yes. I love what dragons personify. Strength, courage, prosperity.”

  “And yin and yang. The two forces in nature.”

  “True,” he said with appreciation. “Male and female, darkness and light, negative and positive. One can’t exist without the other. According to Chinese theory, wise people detect these forces in all things—the seasons, even their food—and they regulate their lives accordingly.”

  “Do these forces guide your life?”

  He thought for a moment. “Yes. I like to be plugged into what’s happening around me. Even to what’s invisible.”

  Vibrations. Energy. She understood. She too listened to the invisible communication coming from all things, especially those found in nature. But those forces were open to interpretation—not always user friendly. Beneath the dragon was a black lacquered table that held a single candle, an incense burner, a framed photo, and a thick book that looked decades old. “What’s this book?”

  “The I Ching.”

  “Oh, I’ve heard of it. It tells your fortune.”

  “Something like that.”

  She nodded at the photo, a portrait of a beautiful Japanese woman with lustrous ebony hair, a sensuous mouth, and dark, luminous eyes. “Is that your guru?”

  “Never thought of her that way, but yes, in a sense, she was my guru. We were very close.”

  “Were close?”

  His expression darkened with grief, and the hint of stress tightened the corners of his mouth. “Satoshi died two months ago.”

  “I’m so sorry.” Selena regretted intruding into his sacred room, and a deeply personal part of his life. A second female friend of his had died within a period of three years—first his singing partner, now this woman. “Was it sudden?”

  His face darkened with a look that frightened her. “They say she killed herself.”

  “But you don’t believe that.”

  “No.”

  Murder loomed large in her imagination, and a chill prickled her scalp.

  It seemed a full minute before he spoke again. “Satoshi was a kind, gentle person. A gifted artist. I met her while I was recovering in Sand Hill. We spent a fair amount of time together.” He turned away, revealing the scarred side of his face, a rigid mask, as though he was hiding behind it. “She helped me find my way back from a very dark place, and unbearable pain.”

  “It must have been terrible.”

  “You have no idea.” He swallowed. “I’m indebted to her… but now she’s gone.”

  Clearly, he revered Satoshi. She couldn’t help but wonder if the beautiful woman had been his lover. “What kind of artist was she?”

  “An origami master. Each of her creations was a feat of remarkable engineering. All made from scratch, even the paper. She designed the more complicated ones on a CAD system before undertaking the physical task of folding them. She made birds, dragons, horses. Anything you can imagine.”

  “Butterflies?” Selena asked with growing pressure in her chest.

  “Stunning butterflies.”

  Selena felt a cold chill as she connected origami butterflies to Samantha Ferguson’s murder. Yet another dead woman Derek knew.

  His voice filtered into her thoughts. “I have some of Satoshi’s pieces. Would you like to see them?”

  She felt a strong need to separate herself from his company, to flee the house, but a macabre curiosity enticed her to stay. She needed to secure information that might help her sister’s investigation. “I’d love to.”

  He led her through the living room, the patter of their footsteps the only noise in the house until they entered his office, where the musical sound of running water came from a stone fountain with a bamboo spout. At the same time her eyes fell upon two framed origami pieces on the wall above his desk—a winged horse and a dragon, intricately folded, graceful and fluid in design.

  She noticed two colorful butterflies in glass boxes on his desk. Selena picked one up and examined it closely. It appeared to be a match to the one recovered from Samantha’s crime scene by the raven. She broke out in goose flesh. Last week when Derek picked up his sister after their therapy session, he momentarily unveiled a surge of anger when Selena mentioned Samantha.

  His voice broke into her thoughts. “You okay?”

  She realized her mouth had turned down. “I was just thinking how sad it is that Satoshi died.”

  His brown eye narrowed. The other, fixed in its seam of scarred skin, looked flat and lifeless. “Why do I get the feeling you’ve seen her butterflies before?”

  Selena heard her phone buzz in her jacket pocket in the living room, and she was grateful for the interruption, knowing she would have had to lie to Derek, and she wasn’t good at deception. “I better get that. It could be Ann.”

  She hurried from the room, fished her phone from her pocket, and answered on the fourth ring. Sidney’s voice spoke before she even said hello. “Where are you? I’ve left several messages.”

  “I’m at Derek’s.”

  “Get out of there. Now. I’m on my way to arrest him.”

  “Just leaving.” Selena hung up, rattled by Sidney’s urgent tone. She brought up her text messages and read: You are in danger. Keep your gun with you. Her gun was in her purse on the front seat of her car. She felt the heat of Derek’s body and realized he was standing right next to her. A shock of adrenalin shot up her arms and made her fingers tingle. She blackened her screen. “Sorry, I have to go.”

  Derek was gazing at her with a hard look to his eye. His breathing changed almost imperceptibly. “There’s something you aren’t telling me.”

  She brushed past him, but his hand lashed out, and his fingers wrapped around her arm. She could feel the pressure of his fingertips. Any attraction she might have felt toward Derek was erased by his aggressive touch. It wasn’t rough, but he was trying to restrain her, to make her stay against her will.

  She yanked her arm away and hurried across the room, opened the door, and sprinted from the house. She didn’t stop or look back until she reached her car, expecting to see him right behind her. Through the drizzle of rain, he was walking slowly toward her across the long rolling lawn and was about twenty feet away.

  She got in the car and locked the door before she realized her keys weren’t in her pocket. They must have dropped in his living room when she pulled out her phone. Selena grabbed her gun from her purse and held it loosely on her lap, finger light on the trigger. Through the rain on the windshield, Derek looked distorted, like a being from another world. He held out his hand and dangled her keys, then slowly laid them on the hood of her car, gave her a last fleeting look, dark and moody, and turned back toward his house.

  Selena waited until he was
a good distance away before she snatched her keys, started the engine and the wipers, and fumbled with her phone to call Sidney.

  “I’m almost there,” Sidney clipped.

  “Derek’s the killer,” Selena stammered, her words rushing together. “He has a neurotoxin in his lab behind the house that comes from snails, and he has a picture of a dead woman who was killed in Sand Hill, and he has two of her origami butterflies, and he knew Samantha and Mimi.”

  “Slow down, Selena. Take a breath. What do you mean a neurotoxin from snails?”

  “He’s a marine biologist. He has sea snails in tanks in his lab that are some of the most venomous creatures on earth. He said their toxin could paralyze people while leaving them completely alert. Sound familiar?”

  Sidney sucked in a breath. “Too familiar. What about the butterflies?”

  “They’re in his office in little glass boxes, and they look exactly like the one Arthur found.”

  As Selena spoke, Granger’s truck pulled into the driveway in front of the house and parked. Selena felt an enormous rush of relief. A normal person had arrived. Someone tough. A protector. “Granger’s here, thank God.”

  “Let us take care of this, Selena. Go back to Ann’s and stay put. Matt’s with her now, but he has to leave. DO NOT go home.”

  “I’ll wait at Ann’s until I hear from you. Sid, please be careful.”

  “Careful is my middle name.”

  Selena clicked off, admiring Sidney’s fearlessness. Her sister was so strong, so capable. She would lock up Derek for good, and the women of Garnerville would be safe again.

  Eager to get out of there, Selena waved a trembling hand at Granger, turned the car around, and started driving south, following the dirt road that ran parallel to the lake.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  THE JEEP BOUNCED and shuddered down the lane, hitting ruts and puddles. Selena forced herself to take her mind off Derek, to pay attention to the road, to drive around the deepest pits. The lake appeared and disappeared through the trees, the rough water the color of pewter, the low hanging clouds indistinguishable from the lake’s surface. The colors and shadows of the woods appeared deeper and more intense than usual.