Hannah Bronto - Lovers in paradise

"You'll never get away with this, Spens," I said, my voice soft. "Give it up."

Commissioner Moran laughed, in a voice that was equally soft. "Of course I'll get away with it, Mal. Who's going to stop me? You? Miss Wolfe over there? Tell me honestly, Mal: who's going to suspect that the Commissioner of Police for the City of Bos-Wash, the second most powerful man in the city, is, in reality, a rapist and murderer? No, Mal, I'll get away with it. Especially when you two, the only two who know my secret, are found murdered by the unknown criminal they were perusing. When you two die, all evidence which leads back to me will be effectively buried. You'll take the solution to this case with you to your graves. After all, you can't expect me to arrest myself, can you?"

"Give up, Spens," I said again, my voice regaining some of its old strength. "Give this up before this goes any further. Two murders are enough. Don't add two more: it won't help anything. You'll be caught in the end – just as all criminals are inevitably brought to justice. Killing Jocelyn and me won't help you. There will be others. And, if you kill them as well, more will follow in their footsteps. In the end Spens, well get you. There is no escape."

"There will be for me," he said, his voice still soft, almost friendly. "The only kind of end this could possibly have for me: death. You see, Mal once I have eliminated you and Miss Wolfe, I intend to kill myself." He held the blaster up. "With this."

I shook my head slowly, insensitive to the pain it caused. "What a waste," I said. "What a stupid, senseless, waste."

"It's all a waste, Mal, isn't it?" he asked. "When you come right down to it, isn't it – life, death, work – isn't it all a senseless waste?"

"No," I said. "No."

"Believe me, Mal," he said, "you would not think that if you were me. If you had gone through what I have gone through. You would welcome death for the release it brings from… pain."

"Pain? Is something wrong with you? Are you… sick?"

"Not that kind of pain, Mal. A much worse pain exists than physical pain. What I'm talking about is pain inside of here." He tapped the side of his head with the muzzle of the blaster. "That's real pain, real agony. And there is no way to escape it. You live with it all your life until it drives you… mad. Until it makes you do things you hate and despise, and then you hate and despise yourself for doing them, and in the end… in the end… all you're left with is more pain. So don't tell me about suffering or death. I welcome death as a friend; I welcome it with open arms."

"Death isn't the only answer," I said. "There are other ways. There are doctors, psychiatrists, medicines that could help you…"

He threw his head back and laughed wildly. "That not help. It doesn't cure anything. All it does is make you conscious of what and who you are and why you've become whatever it is you are. But it doesn't change you: it helps you to accept your limitations. It teaches you to go on despite your pain. But the pain is always… always there." He looked at Jocelyn. "Isn't it, Miss Wolfe?"

"Mal…" she cried. "Mal, he's crazy. He's going to kill us. He told me about the others… how he raped an murdered them. It was horrible, Mal – horrible!"

Commissioner Moran sighed and shook his head. "Now that I find disappointing," he said. "Of all the people in the world, Miss Wolfe, I really thought you would be the one who understood what it was I've been talking about. You know the kind of pain of which I speak. You've suffered it yourself with your father, and the later with your husband. By everything that is logical you should still be suffering that pain. Why don't you understand me?"

"Because I'm not, sick and you are!" she cried. "Oh, was sick, very, very sick, and I remember that pain. But that's over now. I'm well now. The pain is gone…"

"The pain is never gone!" he shouted, shaking the blaster at her. His voice was roaring, and his eyes were wild and angry. "Never… never!"

"Then go to a doctor," she shouted back at him, "like I did! Like all sick people who are in need of help should go!"

Commissioner Moran laughed, and for a moment he seemed genuinely amused. "Oh, I did go to a doctor, Miss Wolfe. In my life I have gone to many – of course in secret, under different identities to protect my exalted position, but none of them helped. Not even your wonderful Dr. Gideon…"

"Auggie?" Jocelyn looked at me. "Mal, what's he talking about? What does Auggie have to do with any of this?"

"Tell her, Spens," I said. "Or should I?"

"Oh, no," he said. "I'll tell her. Why not, after all? I will never go any further than this room, and perhaps… just perhaps it will enable Miss Wolfe to understand what I'm talking about. She should, you know. We have a lot in common."

"Never!" Jocelyn cried, straining at her bonds. "I'm nothing like you and I'll never be!"

"Oh, I don't know," he said. "I think when you know my story, my full story, you will see and understand. You will sympathize with me."

"Yes, tell us, Spens," I urged, desperate for time. As long as he was talking he wouldn't be killing. Maybe we could come up with something. "I want to know al about it, too, Spencer. I want to understand you."

"Good… good. I'm glad to hear that. I want to tall about this. I've wanted to talk about this to someone for a very long time." He leaned back against the edge of the dresser, and then he did something which might have been his first mistake: he put the blaster down of the dresser top. "Let's see… where shall I begin?"

My stomach quivered as I stared at the blaster. "Why don't you tell us about Effie Spade," I suggested. "Tell us why you killed her."

"Yes, that's a good place to begin," he said. He nodded. "You know I really didn't want to kill Effie; she was such a nice person, really. It was an accident. She recognized me…"

"Recognized you?" Jocelyn asked. "How? I don't understand?"

He smiled. "I realize, Miss Wolfe, that this will come as something of a surprise to you, but Detective Browne was correct all along. She was murdered by someone she could have identified, and that person was me. We were both members of the same therapy group, the one which was run by your eminent Dr. Gideon. I was only recently in the group. It was my latest and final attempt at resolving my… problems. After I'd raped those first three women, I knew I had to do something to help my self. The group was my answer." He shook his head, "Some answer. It caused me to go from bad to worse; from a rapist to a murderer."

I had no feeling in my hands; the cords were so tight they cut off my circulation. Still, I began to move my hands around, rubbing them against the plasteel fiber, trying to loosen it. I continued to stare at the blaster.

Commissioner Moran continued: "I followed Effie home from the group that day. There was something about her that I found fascinating. She reminded me of – someone. Someone I once knew. I was on my way up when I saw Dr. Gideon leaving her apartment. I found out later from Effie that he was giving her private sessions in order to help her over some very difficult changes she was going through. Dr. Gideon didn't see me; I hid in a doorway as he walked past me. When I was sure he was gone, I walked up to her door and knocked. She answered it quickly, perhaps expecting Dr. Gideon to have returned. When she saw it was me the disappointment was evident on her face, but, since she recognized me, she reluctantly invited me in. We sat around her living room, talking… trying to talk. It was very painful. She didn't want to be there with me. But I-I was fascinated by her. I couldn't get it out of my mind that she wasn't Effie Spade. All I could think about was that she reminded me of – her. Of that other woman."