Miscarriage Of Justice (28 page)

Mariana shook her head in dismay, that didn’t leave many options. Jessi would probably have some ideas by now, if she’d thought about it, though she didn’t really want to again bring up the whole notion of killing Ethan. But, after another hour of racking her brain, and coming up with nothing, she reluctantly picked up the phone.

“Are you ready for your confession on Monday?” Jessi asked once they’d exchanged pleasantries.

“No,” Mariana said. “It turns out that either won’t be necessary or just not matter. She then filled her friend in on all the latest events ending with the fact she’d decided against turning herself in. Then, without mentioning her murder plot, speaking only in general terms of the man in the shed, she asked if Jessi had come up with any suggestions for getting rid of the body yet.

Jessi, usually brimming with inspiration of simple logic and zany ideas for any occasion, was at a loss. She said, “That’s not really my field of expertise.”

“Mine neither,” returned Mariana.

They talked for over an hour, but Mariana was no closer to a solution when they hung up. Slumping into her recliner, the thought crossed her mind to just cut the bodies into tiny pieces and run them down the garbage disposal. Instantly, she made a grimacing face, and nearly gagged. She may be contemplating a man’s murder, but that was just sick. Utterly repulsive and disgusting.

Besides, she had to make sure there was no blood. Whatever she did, whatever method she chose, the number one requirement was no blood. That was Criminology 101. Any first-year forensics student knew that blood never went away. Traces of it could be discovered and used as evidence, even years after the fact. Those pesky crime scene investigator guys were extremely efficient at finding it and even more proficient in using it to reconstruct crime scenes—with or without a body.

Since she didn’t relish the idea of trying to beat her victim to death, she briefly considered the most infamous murder weapon of all time; arsenic. The stuff was always a crime writer’s favorite because it left no trace in the body. But where would she, an attorney, find arsenic? How could she hope to procure any amount of it without raising suspicion? She didn’t even know what the legitimate use was for arsenic.

She shrugged and curled her feet up under her on the couch. Did it really matter that she left no trace? If the body were discovered, the trail of evidence would eventually lead straight to her, so it didn’t really make much difference.

After thinking for another hour, pondering the various possibilities, Mariana concluded she should forgo her earlier notion of making Ethan suffer and beg. What she needed was something that would kill him quickly. Violently would work too, but the faster the better. Painfully if possible, but no blood.

Continuing to let ideas percolate as she flipped through the channels on TV, and then while she took a shower, Mariana could come up with nothing that didn’t have major flaws. “Maybe Professor Thomlin was right,” she sighed. “Maybe there is no perfect crime.”

“Forget perfection,” she suddenly told herself. At this point, she was ready to settle for anything even remotely close. So there was no perfect crime. What was the next best thing?

She’d nearly fallen asleep when a wild idea finally clicked in her head. Instantly she sat up, wide-awake. She had it! All of it! The weapon, the method, and even how to get rid of the body. No, it wasn’t perfect, but it almost was. Mr. Rafferty was going to die by electrocution, just like the state did it. Only, she wouldn’t need to use a chair.

It was simple really. Every spring she had trouble with water collecting on the concrete porch by her front door. And each time she was reminded of a movie she’d seen in high school. In the film, a stalker had been shocked to death by standing in charged, electrified water and grabbing hold of the metal doorknob.

Not being into physics while in school, she hadn’t paid much attention during the lectures on electricity, but she was smart enough to know that just because it had worked in the movie, didn’t mean it was actually possible.

Logging onto the Internet, the Mariana began researching the subject, but found no answers. There were no sites, or articles, which specifically addressed the issue. Not giving up, she finally stumbled onto an interactive science website, with a chat room. Typing in her question, explaining what she’d seen in the movie, she said the reason for asking was that she was now embroiled in a hot, semi-friendly discussion as to its veracity. “Is this possible?” She ended her question and hit enter.

Almost instantly, she received a response. The site was geared to grade-school level, which was exactly what she needed. Plain English that she could understand. Eagerly, she read the reply.

“Doorknobs are typically made from very poor conducting materials. If a wire were attached to the knob on the inside and a full 220 watts of power sent to it (the most possible in a residential house), the amount of electricity which managed to travel through to the outside would be so minuscule it would barely deliver more than a static shock, like you get when you rub your feet on the carpet and then touch someone. This set-up has ‘worked’ in a number of movies but it’s simply not practical.”

Mariana was a little depressed at the news, but continued reading, having already received another response. Maybe this one would offer a different opinion, she thought.

“In order for this to work, the wires would have to be attached to something in order to send a charge to the water. The shock would come, not from touching the doorknob, but as a result of contacting the water. But, it would only be electrified for a split second before the circuit breaker was tripped. A person would have to install a switch and wait for the intruder to put a foot in the water, preferably with the other foot still on the ground, and then throw the switch. Highly improbable.”

Another reply followed, giving much the same scenario, along with a few other suggestions. Mariana had seen enough. Typing a quick thanks, she copied the instructions and then printed them out. “I may need to refer to this later,” she said to herself.

What she’d learned from the chat room discussion was that it was in fact possible if the circumstances could be controlled. But, with her limited knowledge and inadequate experience with electricity, it was iffy at best. From all accounts, the outcome would be less than favorable. Still, she planned to try it. Right after she’d gotten some sleep!

Ignoring Jessi’s phone calls for the next two days, Saturday and Sunday, Mariana set to work. Taking time out to send away electricians and plumbers every couple of hours, she tirelessly labored, rigging up her electronic weapon. Making several trips to the hardware store, she worked non-stop, frequently referencing her instructions. Slowly the contraption began to take shape.

Placing a one-inch strip of rubber around the edge of the four-by-four concrete slab, taking great pains to ensure she achieved a watertight seal between the two surfaces, she let the rubber caulking dry completely. Running a garden hose to the porch, she filled her newly fashioned reservoir with water. Checking for leaks, she was pleasantly surprised to find none. So far, so good.

Modifying the plans from the chat room slightly, she wired a switch from an outlet in the living room. Then, drilling a hole in the outer wall, she ran the wires down the base of the house, keeping them hidden. Attaching a ground wire to a steel rod, driven deep into the flower bed, she then ran the black and white wires under the siding to the porch leaving the bare ends resting on the concrete. This design required, as the instructions had said, that the switch be flipped as soon as the “target” was in place. As her unsuspecting prey stepped onto the porch, the water would be charged for a split-second before the circuit shorted out, but not before sending 110 Watts of power surging through the hapless victim’s body. And unless they were wearing rubber boots, that would be the end of it.

The apparatus was finally finished and Mariana gazed thoughtfully off into space. A test. She needed to run a test and for that she would need a subject. It didn’t take too long for her to come up with an unsuspecting guinea pig, or cat to be more precise. The neighbor’s cat. This was her chance to get rid of the little annoying varmint in grand fashion. And, its death would serve a good cause.

Knowing she’d never get Whitey to come down by calling it, Mariana set a bowl of chicken bones just outside the door hoping that would entice the pesky cat into her trap. She was rather amazed that the stench from the shed hadn’t lured the animal down already, but decided maybe the cat was just as repulsed by the abhorrent smell as she was.

An hour later, Whitey finally showed up. Mariana watched with fascination as he came slowly creeping across the driveway. Silently, from her perch by the window, she urged it on. Whitey seemed leery and hesitant about the water and for a full five minutes sat beside the porch, softly meowing.

“Come on you stupid cat, put a paw in the water,” Mariana coaxed.

Eventually, the smell of the chicken bones proved too much. The temptation was too strong and Whitey could no longer resist. Edging the last few inches to the porch, he placed both front paws on the strip of rubber, trying one last time to will the chicken bones into reach. Then, in slow motion, he eased his right paw into the water.

Mariana threw the switch.

There was no snapping, no crackle, or pop as Mariana had expected. The small body simply collapsed onto the porch without making a sound. The whole thing was rather anticlimactic, but the D.A. was in no way disappointed. Turning off the switch, she quickly opened the door to examine her victim. Prodding the body with the toe of her shoe produced no reaction. It had worked! Whitey was dead.

Mariana smiled gleefully, noticing Whitey had not been wearing rubber boots. No more kitty cat lurking around her house!

But would the device be just as effective on a larger target? On a human? On Ethan?

Using a pair of gloves, Mariana picked up the dead animal and went to bury it in the backyard. The horrible stench coming from the shed was overpowering and she hurriedly dug a much shallower grave than she had intended. Dropping in the cat, and hastily covering it, she made a rapid retreat into the house.

Returning to the front door, Mariana proudly surveyed her handiwork, admiring her ingenuity and newfound mechanical skills. “I wonder if Ethan would like to come over and play?”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

The previous week had been a quiet seven quiet days for Ethan, but days full of angst. Time slowly dragged on, and with nothing to do, he waited. And then waited some more. When Saturday finally rolled around, he was on edge and a bit ecstatic. Up early, he dressed in jeans and the work shirt he’d bought, along with the boots. Somberly, he tucked the .357 Magnum in the back of his belt.

Skipping breakfast, he paced the kitchen and then the living room. Impatiently, he wandered out to the backyard, looking over the property, and checking his watch every few minutes. With the last of the contractors scheduled for two p.m., he couldn’t make his house call until later that afternoon, or evening. Dusk would be the best time. The eerie shadows and ominous darkness would lend an aura of suspense while he antagonized the helpless Mariana. A little swirling wind howling outside would add a certain charm too. Or, a thunderstorm! With lightning flashing and rain beating on the windows. That would be perfect! Glancing bleakly at the sky, he saw the possibility of that happening was probably out of the question. A smattering of high clouds against a brightly lit blue backdrop was apparently what Mother Nature had forecast for the day. Disappointed, he scowled at the trees overhead. There wasn’t even any wind.

As his nerves finally settled down, Ethan moved into a cold, cruel, and calculating mode. Though he wasn’t hungry, he went to eat. A growling stomach while conducting an intimidation routine just wouldn’t do. Downing a light meal seemed to relax him more and by the time he made it back home, a peaceful calm had settled over him. But then, as the afternoon wore on, and evening approached, he could feel the anxiety returning.

Finally, the clock, which had slowly trudged along all day, said it was time. With the sun sinking over the western horizon, Ethan gathered up his things. Stuffing some loose sheets of paper into the clipboard, he grabbed a pen, and was on his way. Driving slowly, he gradually made his way toward Griffen Road.

While driving, he began having second thoughts. This is what he’d waited for, but now that the moment had arrived, he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to go through with it. Briefly, he considered turning around and just forgetting it. Forgetting it all.

Then he shook his head. He couldn’t believe he was actually considering the possibility of letting the D.A. off. Could it be that his bitterness had double-crossed him? Were his actions backfiring? Having the opposite effect of making him crazy instead of Mariana. He decided it could.

Still, in no way did that absolve the crooked D.A. of any responsibility. She still owed him. And she’d still pay, he’d see to that.

Pulling into Mariana’s driveway, he was relieved as he noticed her bright red Corvette parked by the house. No other vehicles could be seen. The first hurdle was cleared. She was home and apparently alone! Ethan coasted to a stop just behind her car and climbed out, clutching the clipboard in his left hand.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Mariana saw the car pull into the drive and curiously watched as it slowly rolled up behind her own vehicle. Assuming it was another in a long line of contractors to which she’d already been treated that day, she shook her head. The clock said it was almost six. She didn’t think contractors usually kept those kind of weekend hours. “This guy must be running a little late.”

Walking to the door she waited with a disgusted frown while the man made his way around the car and headed up the walk. Then she did a double take. The guy looked vaguely familiar, but she couldn’t quite place him. “I know I’ve seen him somewhere,” she mouthed.