Belinda Cabbotry: The Weak and the Wary (PART 9)

Belinda's mind was buzzing. The scribbles of her mind's eye rushed back and forth across the interrogation room. A thousand crimes being confessed to her within a second of unconscious thought. It was a curse and it was beautiful. She watched the wife sitting at the table and she saw the interrogator in front of her. And she saw, written on their skin and clothes, everything they'd done within the last few days. All of it was unconscious, like a sixth sense, but it was captivating to watch anything too long.

"...Belinda? Can you hear me?" Emily waved her hand in front of Belinda's eyes and a hundred or so figures disappeared from her view quickly replaced by the tiny words written on the palm of Emily's hands.

"You should really stop that." Belinda told her.

"Oh sorry." Emily took back her hand.

"No I meant picking at that scab on your heel. Your blister won't heal if you keep touching it. What do you even have to wear heels to anyways?"

Emily bit the side of her cheek. "I met a guy." She said softly.

"Obviously. Your hair says that loudly enough. Hairspray won't fix 'that'." Belinda motioned to Emily's curly hair.

"A girl can dream-"

"Also why are you even wearing heels? Are you dating a basketball player?"

"Can we focus on the interrogation? Please."

Belinda smiled, and continued to watch the interview.

"Mrs. Smith, where were you on the night of the incident?" The detective asked in a tired voice.

"At home, watching TV." Her voice was bland and emotionless, like it was practiced.

"All night?"

"No, I went out for dinner at around the time of the murder. I got take-out and brought it home. Cynthia can vouch."

"You know the take-out staff well?" David's question didn't provoke much of an emotional response. She continued to sit staring at him, mumbling her response.

"I don't like to cook."

"Where does Cynthia work?"

"Arby's, just down the road from my house. I walked there and back during the time of the incident."

The detective frowned, "Not much of an alibi Mrs. Smith."

"No it's not." She said blandly. "But even though we had our problems, I've always loved my husband and I would never try to hurt him."

"You are aware that he was having an affair?"

Mrs. Smith stared for a few seconds, signed and replied "Yes."

"She's telling the truth." Belinda muttered.

"What?" Emily asked.

"She's telling the truth, what did I say before?" Belinda looked worried. She genuinely didn't like saying the wrong thing.

"No I meant what's she telling the truth about?"

"All of it. She is telling the truth about all of it." Belinda watched Mrs. Smith admit to knowing about the affair before the incident. "Except for that." She held two fingers up, and waved to an officer to come over. "Could you get David?" He nodded and exited the room behind the two-way mirror.

"How do your know she's lying?" Emily asked, narrowing her eyes at the woman blonde woman. She was just as expressionless as when she entered the station. For all anyone knew she could have been lying the entire time, or not at all, or on and off. But there was just no way to tell what was truth and what was lies.

"Because it doesn't fit with the crime scene I've been developing."

"That's not going to pass in court." Emily retorted. Still doubting how good Belinda thought she was despite all past experiences.

"Look, believe me or not, it's worked out in the future-"

"Past." Emily corrected.

"Bless you. It's worked out before, if it doesn't fit with what I've been thinking, it probably isn't true."

"But couldn't you just be looking at this all wrong."

"I'd know if I was wrong, just trust me."

The door opened again and David walked in cautiously.

Belinda's mouth opened, but no words came out. She just stared, her eyes crossing slightly for a full twelve seconds. Then when everyone was fully annoyed, she shook her head and looked around the room confused.

"What's going on?" She asked in a perfectly clear voice that told them she was now Melanie.

"You, uh, had something to tell me about the case. The almost double homicide on Kepler Ave."

Melanie glanced over through the two-way mirror, she assessed every detail of the woman sitting at the table, and tried to catch herself up again.

"Pies." She whispered. "Pies, guys, chai, tie, lie.....lie.....LIE! She lied."

"Yeah." David said, unimpressed by her deduction, "We sort of got that from how little emotion she was showing."

Melanie laughed slightly and grinned. "No that's just how she is." And when no one really responded beyond confused looks and silent disapproval, she continued. "You remember yesterday when I tried to explain why Catherine was the murderer and you guys rudely interrupted me?"

"You remember that?" Emily asked, immediately regretting it. Melanie suddenly frowned and crossed her arms in a kind of sulk.

"Of course, but that....incident is not what I'm talking about."

"We just wanted to-" Emily defended.

"I am FINE ON MY OWN!" She yelled. She glared at Emily, and tucked her hair behind her ear angrily.

"What were you talking about?" David asked, to change the topic if nothing else.

"She's Bipolar." Melanie said matter-of-factly.

"If that was true," Emily argued, "Shouldn't she be really emotional?"

"Not if she was on meds. The medication for bipolar disorder sometimes inhibits all emotion, in order to even it out. She's on her meds right now, that's why she doesn't seem responsive. It's a very undesirable symptom. I had a friend in Rio with the same problem, she used to get so drunk. Surprisingly good driver-"

David coughed, "Moving on."

"Oh yeah, you see when I went to visit them I asked to go to the bathroom."

"You didn't go to the bathroom did you?" Emily asked.

"I did, but then I sifted through the medicine cabinet. Low and behold, her prescription was filled a week ago, she was supposed to take 14 of the 50 pills by that day, but only 8 were missing, and you know what that means."

"So she skips taking her medication like you?" Emily muttered. Melanie glared at her again.

"No! It means I think I know what they were fighting about."

***

"Mr. Smith." David greeted the victim as he sat down in the interrogation room chair. The chair Melanie had aptly named "the squeal stool" as almost everyone she and David interrogated squealed like a mouse. "Good to see you."

"You don't think it was me, do you?"

"No, we just have a few questions to ask you to clarify a few-"

"What were you and Mrs. Smith fighting about?" Melanie interrupted, she was standing above David who was sitting across from Mr. Smith. She simply refused to sit, even when they offered to bring her a chair.

"Uh...stuff." Mr. Smith stuttered, even he didn't look to happy with the answer he gave.

And neither was David. "Could you elaborate on 'uh....stuff'?"

"You know husband and wife stuff. The usual stuff."

Melanie snickered, "Your usual or my usual? And may I remind you that 'usual' to me is you murdered your brother in law."

"Nothing like that!" Mr. Smith's face went a tad pale and he suddenly felt warm, "It's sort of my private business, I have a right not to say."

"So you had an abusive relationship." She said calmly.

"No!" He said quickly, "No! I would never-"

"So she didn't like that you were selling drugs."

"What!?" He demanded, getting more and more flustered.

"You're an illegal alien." Melanie smiled viciously.

"I'm white-!"

"I not here to judge your nationality, you could be an illegal siberian."

"But I'm not I was born here, it's on my birth certificate-"

"You had different political views." Melanie suggested.

"Closer-"

"You're a secret Communist and she's a Conservative."

"Now you're just being ridiculous! You are wasting my time, someone else ask the questions-"

"No." David hid a silent laugh behind his hand, while he pretended to wipe his nose. "This is all very relevant. You see we need to know why you and your wife were upset with each other to better understand your relationship with Stephanie." Mr. Smith opened his mouth to object, but David ignored him. "Your vagueness is impeding police investigation. We have to assume you are hiding something illegal."

"But I'm not!" He objected loudly.

"Then you have nothing to worry about by telling us." David told him, "Anything you say will stay between us unless it can be used as evidence, and it most likely won't."

"Then why ask-"

"Your wife." Melanie started, pausing to cough. "She's bipolar, correct?"

"Well yes-" Mr. Smith furrowed his thick brown eyebrows.

"Tell me, how new is her medication?"

Mr. Smith thought for a few seconds about his answer. Not only did he have to get the right date, he also was concerned as to where this conversation was going. "About two months." He said finally.

"And you and Stephanie have been together for....?" David prompted.

"About a month." Mr. Smith said with a slight pallor entering his face.

"So tell me Mr. 'It wasn't like that' Smith, why were you and Catherine fighting?" Melanie leaned a hand on David's shoulder as she stared at the victim, in wait of an answer. David cringed as her weight fell uncomfortably on his shoulder like an unbalanced backpack full of bricks.

"Well..." He started, "As you may have noticed her medication is strong. She just stopped reacting. She wouldn't smile and she wouldn't say much. It was like living with a zombie."

Melanie's face was still set on her glare, as if she expected more. Mr. Smith didn't argue, he just kept the confession going.

"After a while I missed the old her. However suicidal and crazy she was, she felt something. Sure when she got into her depressive state she'd stay in bed, in the dark, for days, but at least she was feeling something. We didn't really fight, just refused to do stuff together."

Melanie still didn't move.

David looked up at her, she was still. Her lips pressed tightly together and her hand tightened into a rock. "Mels?" He asked, waving his hand in front of her face. She didn't move.

"Is she okay?" Mr. Smith asked.

"Tonic seizure, she's fine." David continued with a concerned smile. "So she always takes her medication?.

"Yeah, she doesn't like the depressive state."

"Every single day?"

"Once a day, in the morning with breakfast."

"Only she hasn't been."

"What? No I assure you, I've seen her take her medication every morning."

David took this into consideration, scratching his chin and sighing. Suddenly Melanie began to whistle. He looked up at her, she had half a grin on her face, enough to show her incisors. With one hand she pulled all of her hair off to her left side and stood up straight.

"You saw her take a pill every morning." She smiled. Her voice sounded weird. More seductive and smooth, like it knew everything, and at the same time knew only just enough.

"Yes."

"And these pills look like...?"

"Little white tablets." Mr. Smith gulped.

"How closely do you look at the pills she takes every morning, Mr. Smith?"

"Not really closely. She deserves some responsibility."

"And was her breath a bit minty after she took her pills recently?"

Mr. Smith swallowed again, and his eyes stared down at the table in front of him. "...Catie." He mumbled.

"Of course we're over-looking something huge." Melanie said in that captivating voice.

"I'm sorry," David said shaking his head. "What did you overlook?"

"We have a motive and a possibility, no evidence."

David frowned. "But she did do it, didn't she?"

Melanie leaned down and whispered into his ear. "Since when am I clairvoyant?"

"