29th October, 2015 (Twenty-Four Days after the Murder).

09:45 PM.

“What was so important?” Ian asked the officers on duty as he strode into the station.

“We arrested a man who was stalking a young woman, Halsey Dickens, about two days ago. Today on interrogation, he admitted to knowing who killed Bethany,” a young police officer replied.

Alarm bells went off in Ian’s head, “What is his name?” he asked.

“Beet Wind. DNA showed that he’s wanted in Connecticut for the murder of Noona Stone.”

They strode into the interrogation room and Ian came face to face with a wispy, balding man. Ian recognized him immediately – he had been at Bethany’s funeral.

“Mr. Wind,” Ian greeted.

“Call me Beet. Odd name isn’t it?” the man said. He had a high pitched voice, like the kind of voice a talking Barbie doll would have. It gave Ian goosebumps.

The man continued, “I mean, you name your child Beet and expect him not to be a monster? Mama said she gave me that name because I reminded her of a beetle.”

Beet laughed as he gesticulated towards the chair facing him, “Sit down detective,” he offered happily, like he was holding a grand party, and Ian was his prized guest. Ian sat down and looked at the man. Beet had the coldest eyes he had ever seen. It was like looking into a black hole.

“Tell me what you know about Bethany,” Ian said.

The man’s countenance changed, and his voice was filled with rage, “That mean bitch deserved to die.”

“How so?” Ian asked calmly.

“She was cruel. I could not forgive that. Even if I could, she was smart. Being smart is completely unforgivable,” he yelled as he stood up in anger.

Ian smiled at him, “Sit down please.”

“Of course, I wouldn’t want to be impolite.” Beet sat back down with a smile, and smoothed his shirt.

“Did you kill Bethany?” Ian asked.

He looked Ian in the eye, as his own started to fill up with tears, “I will kill the person who killed her. For denying me that privilege. Everything is ruined.” He put his face in his hands and began to cry hysterically. Ian saw the officer who followed him in, shake his head with disgust at Beet’s behavior.

Ian waited till Beet’s wails subsided, then asked, “Who did it?”

“I won’t tell you. You’re using a trick on me,” he said as he shook his head and turned away.

“I'm not using a trick on you.”

Beet stopped crying, and his voice was again filled with rage, “If I tell you, you’ll make an arrest. And we can’t have an arrest when we’re planning a murder can we?” he asked coldly.

“Bethany wanted me. We would have been together forever and it was taken away from me… from us,” he continued.

“Did Bethany ever say she wanted you?”

“Of course. So many times. She was too shy to tell me herself, but she made me know for months – while she ate, while she bathed, while she touched herself…,” he trailed off.

The man was clearly unhinged. He was a textbook case of a sociopath, and Ian knew he would have to tread carefully to get the information he needed.

Ian looked around and whispered, “You can trust me.”

“Hah! I clearly can’t. I thought I could trust Mariah, but after giving herself to me completely, she threatened to leak our secret. Noona was not trustworthy as well. Humans can’t be trusted.”

Beet leaned in, “And so we normal people have to stick to each other right?”

“Right,” Ian replied, as he hid a grimace behind his smile.

“This woman you were caught following, Halsey Dickins, was she in love with you as well?” he asked.

“You made a mistake there, detective,” Beet corrected.

“What?”

“Is, not was, detective. She is absolutely, madly in love with me.”

“Do you have anything else you’d like to add?” Ian asked.

“No. I’m too smart to open my mouth now, detective.”

“You’ve told me all I need to know.”

He turned toward the police officer, “Take him away.”

As Beet was led out, Ian ran his hands through his hair in frustration. On top of everything else, Bethany had a stalker. Now the real question was if there was anyone in town who didn’t want her dead.

*****

30th October, 2015 (Twenty-Five Days after the Murder).

10:30 AM.

For the second time that month, Ian was called into the Chief’s office. He disliked the man, but had no choice than to suck it up for the sake of his career.

“You sent for me Chief?” he asked as he walked in.

“I want this case over and done with immediately,” the chief said without preamble. At the very least, Ian could always count on him to be straightforward.

“Why are you so desperate for that?”  Ian asked. He wanted to reign in his temper, but was fast losing the battle.

The chief hesitated, like he was considering if explaining himself was worth it. He carefully said, “The election is fast approaching. The last thing the mayor needs is bad press.”

“The case is far from being over,” Ian argued.

The chief slammed his mighty hands on the table, “Listen to orders, dammit! I would not have a rogue cop on my team. The stalker did it, the Beet guy. He is guilty of killing Bethany Cooper.”

“He is not. Raping and killing his victims is his MO,” Ian said.

“Killing by strangulation is his MO,” the chief argued loudly.

“With his hands,” Ian yelled. He wanted to throttle him.

Ian took a deep breath and continued calmly, “He rapes them, then strangles them, to feel close to his victims. He would never use a shoelace, and besides, he would have admitted it if he did.”

“So you’re believing the word of this lunatic?” the chief asked.

“He is certainly more honest than you have been.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” the chief yelled angrily.

“Why have you and the Mayor been pressuring me to drop the case? What have you both got to hide?”

The chief studied him for a moment, “It seems I was wrong about you, McNeil,” he said.

“You’re not fit to work on this case,” he continued.

‘What?”

“You have a personal involvement with the victim’s sister, Alyson. It seems like your emotions have clouded your judgement.”

“That’s not true and you know it,” Ian retorted.

“You’re off the case, McNeil. Suarez will be taking over. And you need mental evaluation.”

“Bethany needs justice!”

“And you need help. Get out of my office. And if you say another word, so help me God, I will have your badge,” he chief yelled.

Ian bit his tongue, and left the office, slamming the door on the way out. It was New York all over again.

*****

21st January, 2020 (Five Years after the Murder).

12:30 PM.

The Bethany Cooper trial was ongoing, and the defense was presenting its case.

“What is your name?” Vivian Glade asked the old woman on the witness stand.

“Karen Portman.”

“Can you tell us your relationship with the defendant?”

“I taught the defendant in elementary school,” the old woman replied.

“That’s strange. It was obviously a very long time ago. How could you remember the defendant so well to give a testimony in court today?” Vivian asked.

“Atwood is a small town, and the students are not much. Asides from that, I have a good memory and never forget a student.”

Vivian Glade nodded, “Fair enough. Describe the defendant in your opinion.”

“Calm, confident, a really good person. Wouldn’t hurt a fly really,” the woman replied. Attorney William rolled his eyes.

“Did you notice anything strange, character wise?” Vivian asked.

“Of course, I noticed anger outbursts, which were so unusual for someone so young. Occasional flare-ups. The defendant was extremely sensitive and got emotional quickly. One day in particular, the defendant was playing with a classmate’s doll at lunchtime. The classmate tried to collect her doll back, but the defendant pushed her to the floor, which led to a mild concussion. The defendant cried the whole day, and admitted to not knowing how it happened,” she said, and took a shaky breath.

“I noticed similar behaviors, but I assumed the defendant was just being a kid. If I had pointed it out early enough, perhaps this would not have happened.”

“It’s not your fault,” Vivian sympathized.

“Over the years, have you maintained contact with the defendant?” she asked.

“We occasionally meet, as I plan to retire later this year. Same personality, same beautiful approach to life.”

“In your opinion, is the defendant a bad person?”

“Absolutely not! When I heard what had happened, I knew it must not have been done on purpose. The crime must have been committed on one of the extreme moods I noticed when the defendant was a little child. Completely uncontrollable,” she said. The jury was hanging on to every word, and taking notes.

“So you could say the defendant is simply… misunderstood?”

“Absolutely.”

“’Your witness,” Vivian Glade called as she went back to her seat.

William casually limped to the witness stand. He planned to enjoy the cross-examination.

“You have worked as an elementary school teacher for a long time. I admire your service,” he began.

“Thank you very much,” she humbly replied.

“You’re welcome ma’am. So you said you have an impeccable memory?”

“I do.”

“Okay. Let me present you with a note. Could you read it for the entire court to hear?”

“Sure.” She adjusted her glasses.

To Miss. Portman, the best teacher in the whole world. Thank you for taking such good care of us. I luv you – M.M, the letter read.

“You were not joking when you said you were very hands on with your students,” William complimented.

“No, I wasn’t,” she replied proudly.

“Great. So can you tell us who M.M is?”

“I can’t remember. It was probably a long time ago,” she said awkwardly.

“Take a wild guess.”

“Margot Michelle?”

“Morgan Mitt. He was in your class last year, and wrote you this a few months ago,” William said.

“Let’s do another one. Look around the courtroom, aside the defendant, was there anyone else you taught present here today?”

She looked around carefully, then looked again.

“I don’t think so.”

“The five individuals in the front row on the left. You taught them all, and they are younger than the defendant.”

“If you don’t remember things your students did, if you don’t remember their names, or their faces, what do you remember?” he asked coldly. The old woman blushed with embarrassment as she took off her glasses and cleaned them, to avoid looking at the lawyer’s face.

“What do you remember Miss. Portman?” he repeated.

William turned towards the judge, “I move the motion that her testimony be struck out for being an unreliable witness.”

“Granted.”

So who is the mysterious defendant?

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