Belinda Cabbotry: The Weak and the Wary (PART 10)

"Melanie!" David yelled. Melanie just kept walking down the hall. "Melanie come on, I know you know something!"

"How should I know, I'm just a poor sick little kid." She yelled back, keeping a smooth pace and a bright smile on her face.

"If this is about the intervention, Melanie, I'm sorry, but you need to be professional."

"Am I known for being professional?" She said, her cane clicking as she walked.

David ran to catch up with her. He touched her shoulder and she didn't react. "Mels, I know how you feel, but don't take it out on the case."

"I'm not, I just-" she frowned and pursed her lips.

"Just what?"

"I just need more evidence. And you need to stop badgering me, because I don't have appropriate evidence."

David narrowed his eyes, "But you do have evidence?"

"The bruise on her cheek, did you see that? It's almost gone, but still visible."

David shook his head.

"Ask her about that." Melanie told him. "I'm going to take some time to think about it."

"Here, I'll drive you home-" he reached into his pocket for his car key.

"I'm not going home." Melanie grabbed his arm and reached for his hand, lacing her fingers in between his. "And you need to stop shirking your duties as detective."

David almost forgot that this was Melanie, not Belinda. He rubbed his thumb over her palm. Then remembering that this was not technically his girlfriend, he pulled his hand away. Melanie touched his shoulder, keeping him an arms length away, and smiled at him.

"Go do the fun part, I'll meet you when I figure it all out."

"Do you need anything?"

"Yes, have the plans of her apartment building sent to my office, and stop worrying about me."

"Sorry." He mumbled, lowering his head and pulling away from her hand.

"Hey," he looked up, and she smiled at him. She pulled him into a hug, and quickly whispered into his ear. "Now get that stupid look off your face, you have a job to do. Also people are staring."

She let go of him, and they both walked away.

***

Emily made her way back into the forensics lab, after watching Melanie and David's interrogation. She had never seen Belinda/Melanie admit to not knowing something, she especially hadn't heard Melanie admit to it. Not that she was surprised that Melanie had over-looked the "collecting actual evidence" part, she had been wondering about that herself.

To Emily's surprise, Belinda was already back in the lab, scanning a map on Emily's desk. In her mouth was a Twix bar, and when Emily walked in, the chocolate muffled her greeting. Emily shrugged, and motioned to the chocolate bar. Belinda nodded, took a bite of chocolate and set it aside. She motioned for Emily to come look at the building plans.

"Do you have an idea?" Emily asked.

"If she weren't taking her medicine, what kind of state do you think she'd be in?"

"Well, one of her mood swings, right?"

Belinda nodded. "So..."

"Well from what I've heard either really crazy or really depressed."

"Exactly, so which state was she in?"

Emily shook her head, "I don't know."

"Think." Belinda prompted.

"Manic...?" Emily asked.

"Precisely." Belinda nudged the chair back, forcing Emily to step away as she got up.

"Wait, why am I right?" Emily asked frantically.

"Trust yourself, why are you right?" Belinda slowly got up.

"...Because she went out to go get dinner. If she were Depressed she'd be in bed, right."

Belinda nodded.

"But why does that matter?"

Belinda frowned, trying to put her thoughts in context. "If you felt like you might do something bad, who would you call first?"

"I don't-"

"Yes you do, don't think about it, just tell me who you would call."

"My family, my friends, I don't know."

"Exactly. And her person would know something. Something important about what happened that night."

"Like what?" Emily asked, as Belinda excitedly pushed the door open with visible strain.

"Important stuff, who cares? We ask, we get answers."

Emily shook her head and sighed, but she followed Belinda back to the interrogation.

***

Catherine sat, emotionlessly blinking, sighing, and answered the question. "I still didn't do it."

"I'm not saying you did." David told her, "But we also have no evidence saying you didn't."

"I told you," she insisted calmly, "Ask Cynthia, she can tell you I was at Arby's during the murder."

"Yes, you were on the street of the murder, about 15 minutes before or after the murder. And the only person confirming that is a cashier who doesn't even know when you came in. It's not a strong Alibi."

"But you don't have any evidence that I did it." She said in that eerily emotionless voice that her sound like she wasn't even human.

"We don't have any evidence that you didn't."

"You also don't have any evidence the mailman didn't do it. I don't see his slimy face being dragged in this building." Without any emotion, that sarcasm didn't sound right. It sounded more like her shopping list than unnecessary sass.

"The victim wasn't cheating on the mailman." David responded cooly.

"Ever hear of UPS." She said with a forced smirk on her face. David stared at her disapprovingly, and she sighed. "Is there any way I can prove my innocence?"

"The murder weapon would be nice. You know one with none of your fingerprints on it. Or maybe an alibi that wasn't serving a dinner rush."

Catherine sighed, and David scratched his head. "Maybe you could find that if you did some actual investigating instead of harassing the victim."

"What makes you the victim?"

Catherine shrugged, "He was my husband, and I loved him. I would never try to shoot him. Look I don't even own a gun."

The door to the interrogation room opened and Belinda walked in with the clicking of her cane. "No, you don't." She said, "But your friend does."

"Friend?" David asked. "She has an accomplice."

"Unwittingly yes." Belinda sat down in a empty chair next to David. Setting her cane down on the edge of the table, she rubbed her hands along her knees. "She has a very close friend in the apartment building, room 313, just down the hall from the Smith's apartment."

"We aren't that close." Catherine insisted through her monotone voice.

"You have a key to her apartment on your key ring." Catherine opened her mouth to argue, "Now do really think it would be a smart idea to deny that? When I visited your house saw your keys in the key dish by the front door. The keys for the apartments are engraved with the room number. There was one key for yours, one key fro-" for, "your friend's, one for work, and one for the car. I can have an officer with a warrant to prove that in a matter of hours, but lettuce assume I'm telling the tooth-" truth, "and save you yet another sick day." Belinda's face was red by the end of that, but she made her point.

"Okay, we're close, but not close enough for her to help me commit murder."

"But she does own a gun?" Belinda asked, trying to keep a straight face even though her vision was cloudy with dizziness.

"Just as a precaution, it is her right."

"And when you went into your manic state," Belinda coughed, "You went to visit her, to make sure you didn't get too excited."

"Yes, that is also my right."

"So you admit to not taking your medication, and being in the manic state at the time of the murder?"

"She admitted to that a few minutes ago." David told her. Belinda took a deep breath and nodded.

"So if you were to, say, see your husband with Stephanie on your way to Arby's. And then come back to your friend's apartment, and steal her gun, then lie, saying you forgot to order your salad, because you don't eat meat, and wait in an alley for the two of them to pass by so you could shoot, then while they were occupied, go back to her apartment and replace the gun. If that were to have happened, I couldn't get a warrant to search her apartment and find your fingerprints on her gun." Belinda was shaking and her vision was blurry, but she held eye contact with Catherine.

Catherine's mouth was slightly opened, and her eyes stared blankly at Belinda in awe.

"I should-" Belinda broke into a coughing fit. David rubbed her back as she coughed, with a concerned look on his face. "-mention I already talked to your friend Heather." She choked out. Belinda finished coughing brushed David's hand away.

"I didn't mean to shoot them." She said softly, with a slight pang of guilt in her voice. "I'd never shot a gun before in my life. I wasn't thinking straight, I swear I only meant to scare them."

"Save it for the court case." David told her harshly.

Belinda thought she had said it, "Don't be so harsh, David, she clearly didn't mean it." But as David continued to handcuff and arrest her without even noticing, she clearly had only thought it.

***

"You have a visitor Mrs. Smith." The guard told her. It was only a holding cell until the trial, but she was still wearing a orange jumpsuit, and she still was not expecting a visitor.

"What?" She sat up from the small grey cot she was lying on.

"A Ms. Belinda Cabbotry would like to talk to you." He said, unlocking the cell door and motioning for her to get up. Catherine complied, wondering just who would want to see her.

"Who?" She asked, in her monotone voice.

The officer did not answer, he just led her down the hall to the visiting area. It was a long grey room with a glass window separating the criminals from the visitors. Along the glass were cubicles with what looked like wall phones. The officer led her to a cubicle at the farthest end of the room, and she sat down. Across from her was a skinny woman with long, stringy black hair and a small smile on her face. She reached for the phone on her side of the cubicle, setting her metal cane aside to grip it shakily with both hands.

It was the officer who interrogated her.

Catherine picked up the phone on her side. "Hello?"

"Hello." She answered back, "I don't know if you recognize me, I'm Officer Belinda Cabbotry. I worked on your case."

"I know who you are." Catherine told her, she gripped the phone tightly. She had a lot of words she wanted to say, but shouldn't. "Why are you here?"

"I'm not here to tell you, you did the right thing. And I'm not here to say your that your actions were justified by your condition."

"Is there anything you are here to tell me?"

"I brought your husband. He's here to talk to you."

"Does it involve divorce papers." It wouldn't surprise Catherine, after all, she was a murderer. A murderer he was cheating on. A murderer with bipolar disorder that he was cheating on.

"No." Belinda said surprised, "No I convinced him to come and talk to you to see if you two couldn't work this out."

Catherine's head tilted, as if a tiny spark of emotion was screaming "I'm so confused!"

"Should I go get him?" Belinda grabbed her cane and began go stand up, when Catherine interrupted her.

"Why did you do this?"

"Should I not have?" Belinda bit her lip "Cause I can send him away right away."

"No, no! I mean why are you trying to help me? You put me in jail."

Belinda looked at the blonde. Through her savant abilities, she could see that Catherine would be in tears of joy if she could experience emotion. "That's my job. I find people who did something wrong to another human being, and the police keep those people away from the rest of us. Being in jail is supposed to heal you, help you have time to forgive yourself. But I don't really think that works. The only way to forgive yourself, and grow, is to be forgiven by those you hurt." Belinda paused, "If you and him can't work all this out, at least you have some closure, but I really think you'll work this out."

"But I killed someone." She said, watching behind Belinda as Mr. Smith walked up to the phone.

"Just try to forgive him too. I assure you he has forgiven you."

"Thank you." Catherine smiled.

"I'm giving him the phone now. Good luck." Belinda handed Mr. Smith the receiver and stood up with a struggle.

"Hey." He said, waving to Catherine.

"Hey." She said back shyly.

***

Emily handed Belinda her jacket on their way out of the visiting area. "Why'd you just do that?" She asked. Belinda shrugged, and slowly pulled the jacket over her shoulders.

"There was no reason for them to break up. They both still love each other."

"Yeah, about that. How on earth do you expect them to get over this incident?"

"Did you notice something about Stephanie?

"What you mean either than the fact that she had a .45 caliber bullet in the heart and severe head trauma?"

"She looked a lot like Catherine."

Emily smacked her forehead. "Stupid! I should have noticed that. They were both blonde and the same height and-"

"About the same facial structure-" Belinda cut in.

"With the same eye color! Oh god, he still loved her!"

"In a far out, subconscious way. Yes." Belinda smiled, "And Catherine was fawning over him. Even if it was just to hide her own guilt, she was inseparable from him. I knew she at least was interested in staying his wife. I figured, what the hey, the worst that can happen is they instantly hate each other and Mr. Smith gets thrown out of the visiting area for fighting and then files a divorce report."

"And that's better than avoiding the problem all together?"

Belinda smiled widely "Absolutely. Now your getting it." Belinda sighed. She tapped her cane nervously. "Also I was wondering if you could call your friend and tell her I said yes."

"Yes to...Oh! You're going to hire her as a private nurse?"

Belinda nodded reluctantly.

"Should I even try to ask why you changed your mind, or just live and let be."

Belinda shrugged. "Melanie and I agree that you're right and that we shouldn't wait until Ravi finds us in a bad seizure. That would be iraresponsable-" irresponsible, Emily corrected, WAIT! Melanie and I?!

"WAIT! MELANIE AND I?!" Emily interrupted.

"Yeah," Belinda said nonchalantly, "I thought you knew I had Dissociative personality Disorder."

"Well duh! But I didn't know you knew."

"A friend of mine pointed it out a long time ago, I've had it since I was 17. You really thought I didn't notice?"

"Well, David thought it would hurt your feelings."

"He's such an idiot. Of course it wouldn't hurt my feelings. I'm a strong girl." She flexed her free, stick of an arm ironically.

Emily smiled hopefully, "So you'll also agree to getting help with that?"

Belinda shook her head. "No, I agree to having someone monitor me. I refuse to go get 'examined'."

"That's what David said you'd say." Emily sighed. "You know having a mental disorder doesn't mean we think you're weak, right?"

Belinda nodded. "I know. It's just, I think Melanie is there for a reason." Belinda's hair covered her face as she stared at the filthy tiles on the floor. "I honestly don't remember my childhood. I remember junior year and beyond, but I don't know what my parents look like. I think Melanie does though. Melanie knows why we're split, and if my childhood was bad enough to split my personality then I don't want to know what my childhood was like, especially if there's no guarantee I'll be 'fixed'."

"Okay." Emily told her, and she said nothing more.