Patterson, James: Alex Cross 11 - Mary, Mary

So she hadn't been able to afford her own defense; no legal bells and whistles on her behalf. Not guilty by reason of insanity can be a tough plea to prove. It must have been a fairly clear-cut case for it to go that way “Where did she end up?” I asked.

“Vermont State Hospital in Waterbury, probably I wouldn't have any transfer records here, but that ward isn't exactly overflowing. I can get you a name and number if you want to find out.”

It was tempting to pull a little no-I-want-YOU-to-find-out attitude, but I preferred to make the calls myself anyway I took down the number for Vermont State Hospital.

“What about Mary Constantine's MO?” I asked Medlar. “What have you got on the actual murders?”

I heard more turning pages and then, “Unbelievable.”

“What is it?”

“Didn't your Mary Smith use a Walther PPK out there in L.A.?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Ditto here. Walther PPK, never recovered, either. She must have dog-boned it.”

I was scribbling notes furiously the whole time he talked. To say the least, he had me riveted.

"All right, Agent Medlar, here's what I need. Get me a contact for whatever Mary Constantine's local police department would have been. I also want everything you've got on file there. Send whatever's electronically available right now and fax the rest.

“And I mean everything. I'm going to give you my cell number in case you find anything else worth mentioning. I'll be on the move.”

I stuffed some papers into my briefcase while I was still talking to Medlar.

“One other thing. 'What airlines fly to Vermont, anyway?”

Mary, Mary

Chapter '1 08

EIGHTEEN HOURS AND THREE THOUSAND MILES later, I was sitting in the small, cozy living room of Madeline and former sheriff Claude Lapierre, just outside Derby Line, Vermont. It was a tiny village, as sweet as a calendar photo, and literally pressed up against the Canadian border. In fact, the local Haskell Free Library and Opera House had been ac t: cidentally built on the border, and guards were sometimes stationed inside to prevent illegal crossings.

Not the kind of place you'd imagine would keep law en forcement very busy, though. Mary Constantine had lived there all her life - right up until she killed her three young children, a horrifying crime that had made national headlines twenty years ago.

“What would you say you remember most about the case?” I asked Mr. Lapierre.

“The knife. For sure the knife. The way she cut up that poor little girl's face, after she killed all three of them. I was Orleans County sheriff for twenty-seven years. It was the worst thing I ever saw By far, Agent Cross. By far.”

“I actually felt kind of sorry for het” Mrs. Lapierre sat next to her husband on the couch, which was covered in a denim-blue fabric. "For Mary I mean. Nothing good ever happened to that poor woman. Not that it excuses what she did, but She waved her hand in front of her face instead of finishing the thought.

“You knew her, Mrs. Lapierre?”

“The way everybody knows everybody around here,” she said. “This is a community of neighbors. We all depend on one another.”

“What can you tell me about Mary before all this happened?” I asked both of them.

Claude Lapierre started. “Nice girl. Quiet, polite, loved boating. On Lake Memphremagog. Not a whole lot to tell, really She worked at the diner when she was in high school. Served me breakfast all the time. But so very quiet, like I said. Everyone was pretty surprised when she got pregnant.”

“And even more surprised when the father stuck around,” Mrs. Lapierre said.

“For a while, anyway,” her husband quickly added.

“I assume that was Mr. Beaulac?”

They both nodded.

“He was ten years older than her, and she was all of seventeen. But they did make a go of it. Tried their best. Even had a second kid together.”

“Ashley,” Mrs. Lapierre said. "Nobody was really bowled over when he finally took off.

If anything, I would have expected it sooner."

“George Beaulac was a real bum,” said Mrs. Lapierre. “look a lot of drugs.”

“Do you know what happened to him? Did he see Mary or the kids again?”

“Don't know,” said Claude, “but I'm inclined to doubt it. He was a bum.”

“Well, I need to find him,” I muttered, more to myself than to either of them. “I really need to know where George Beaulac is now”

“Up to no good for sure,” said Mrs. Lapierre.

Mary, Mary

Chapter 1 09

I DIDN'T BOTHER TAKING NOTES after that. Whatever wasn't already written down, I wouldn't need. A whirring sound had been coming from the kitchen, and I finally asked Mrs. Lapierre about it. I never would have guessed what the sound was. Turned out she was making venison jerky in a dehydrator.

“Where were Mary's parents during all of this?” I asked, moving back to more pertinent questions.

Again, Mrs. Lapierre shook her head. She topped off my coffee cup while her husband continued.

“Rita died when Mary was about five, I guess. Ted raised her, pretty much on his own, though he didn't seem to put a lot of effort into it. Nothing illegal, just real sad. And then he died, too, the year Brendan was born, I think.”

“He smoked like a chimney,” Madeline said. “Lung cancer took him. That poor girl never got a break.”

After George Beaulac left, Mary fell in with another local man, a part-time mechanic by the name ofJohn Constantine.

“He started running around on her almost as soon as she got pregnant,” Madeline said. “It was no great secret. By the time Adam was six months old,John was gone for good, too.”

Claude spoke now “If I had to guess, I'd say that's when she really went downhill, but who knows. You don't see someone for a while, you just assume they're busy or something. And then one day, boom. That was it. She must have snapped. It felt sudden, but it probably wasn't. I'm sure it was building up over a long period.”

I sipped my coffee and took a polite bite of scone, “I'd like to go back to the day of the murders now. What did Mary have to say when she was caught, Sheriff?”

“This is more piecework than anything, just my memories. We never got a peep out of Mary about the murders after her arrest.”

“Anything you can tell me would be helpful. Try to think, Sheriff.”

Madeline took a deep breath and put a hand flat on top of her husband's on the couch cushion. They both had the solid quality of old farm stock, not unlike what I'd seen in Mary at times.

"It looks like she took them for a picnic that day Drove way out in the woods. We found the spot later, just by luck. That's where she shot them. One, two, three, in the back of the head.

“The ME thinks she laid them down, like maybe for a nap, and I'm guessing she did the older two first, since the baby couldn't run away”

I waited patiently for him to go on. I knew that the passage of time didn't make this kind of thing any easier to remember and talk about.

“She carefully wrapped them each in a blanket. I still remember those old army blankets she used. Terrible. Then it looks like she took them home and did the knife work on Ashley there. All over her face and just on her for some reason. I'll never forget it. I'd like to, but I can't.”

“And were you the first one to find them?” I asked.

He nodded. “Mary's boss called and said he hadn't seen Mary for days. Mary didn't have a phone at the time, so I said I'd go ovet I thought it was just a courtesy call. Mary came to the door like there was nothing going on, but I could smell it right away Literally She'd put them all in a trunk in the basement - in August - and just left them there. I guess she blocked that smell out like everything else. I still can't explain any of it. Not even now, after all these years.”