‘‘He’s self-centered,’’ she continued. ‘‘Grace would tell me about their dates. He would start out asking her what restaurant she wanted to go to, or what movie she wanted to see. Even as she told me about them, she didn’t notice that one way or another they always ended up seeing what he wanted or going to his favorite restaurant. From her description I saw that he is indifferent to his daughter. Grace didn’t notice because he keeps Julie well fed, well dressed, and pats her on the head occasionally.’’
Clymene paused a moment and looked down at her hands, then back up at Diane.
‘‘His daughter is only five, but she knows how to clean house, wash dishes, and fetch and carry for her father. Grace sees it as playing house. But it isn’t.’’
Clymene said the last with such gravity, Diane wondered if she’d had a similar personal experience and was projecting. On the other hand, Clymene had made a compelling argument.
‘‘He never reads to his daughter and he never tucks her into bed. Grace sees this as something she can help him with—like he’s just a guy simply out of his depth as a single father, not as someone with a serious character flaw.’’
‘‘Why do you think he will hurt his daughter now?’’ asked Diane.
‘‘I don’t know that he will do anything now, but it’s a time of big changes for them, when anything might happen. It’s an ominous sign that no one has heard from Grace.’’
‘‘All right. I’ll check on them,’’ said Diane.
Clymene relaxed back in her chair. ‘‘Thank you.’’
Diane sat for a long moment studying Clymene through the wire. For the life of her she couldn’t think of what angle Clymene might be playing. And she definitely believed that there was an angle. Clymene had an agenda besides saving a prison guard from harm.
As she listened to her speak, Diane thought that Clymene’s personality felt slippery. She was someone you could never get to know. Diane couldn’t put into words why she felt that way. It wasn’t anything that Clymene did or said—it was like she was too polished. Had she rehearsed her meeting with Diane in front of a mirror? Or mentally, at night when the lights were out and everything was quiet?
‘‘You’re a good actress,’’ said Diane. ‘‘Why didn’t you take that up instead of murder?’’
‘‘You think I’ve been acting?’’
She spoke without malice, but Diane could see she was puzzled. Puzzled, not angry. She never showed anger. That was one of the things Diane found suspicious in her behavior.
‘‘I don’t know,’’ said Diane.
Clymene raised her eyebrows. ‘‘Then...what? Why do you think I’m a good actress?’’
‘‘I saw you in court and you were an entirely different person than you are here. I don’t know if you were acting then, now, or if neither of these personalities is the real you.’’
In court Clymene had been demure. The shine in her eyes looked as if she was always holding back tears. There was little of the confident personality that sat in front of Diane now. It was only when she took the stand that any self-assurance showed through from the woman that looked more victim than perpetrator.
Clymene closed her eyes and opened them again. ‘‘I see your point. I confess, I was playing to the jury at my trial. Surely you can’t blame me. I was fighting for my freedom. Don’t tell me you weren’t playing to the jury when you and your team came across like CSI television. Isn’t that what the DA told you juries expected these days—to be dazzled with fantastic forensic analysis?’’
Diane gave a small shrug, not willing to concede the point. But she was right. That’s what juries expect these days. They want the fancy forensics, and that’s what the DA had told her and her team.
‘‘I wouldn’t call the forensics we had dazzling. They were compelling,’’ said Diane.
‘‘You made it sound dazzling. It’s not a criticism— a compliment really. How you took a dirty cotton ball and turned it into’’—she gestured with a wave of her right hand—‘‘into murder.’’
‘‘We had more than a cotton ball laced with Clostridium tetani.’’
Clymene smiled. ‘‘Yes, you did,’’ she said. ‘‘Scrapbooking.’’
Diane smiled back. That was the weakest link in their chain of evidence.
‘‘How many ladies are going to think twice before they crop their family photos?’’ said Clymene. She actually looked like she was going to laugh.
‘‘Is there anything else I can do for you?’’ asked Diane.
Clymene shook her head. ‘‘I appreciate your coming and being willing to check on Grace for me. She truly is a nice person who just wants a little romance and companionship in her life. She doesn’t deserve what I believe Eric Tully has in store for her.’’
She seemed sincere. Ironic, thought Diane. From what they had discovered, that’s all Archer O’Riley wanted when he married Clymene—a little romance and companionship in his life. What he got was murder.
Chapter 4
It was a civil visit, Diane thought as she left the interview room. Even Clymene’s side trip into ‘‘I’m just an innocent victim’’ was done with humor. It felt to Diane as though Clymene still saw herself in complete control of her destiny. The thought didn’t exactly worry Diane, but it did give her pause.
She hadn’t for a moment believed Clymene was innocent. But she could see how other people might be persuaded by her. She knew Clymene had friends and supporters on the outside who believed her. Perhaps they were what the DA was worried about.
It wasn’t the quality or the conclusiveness of the evidence collected by Diane’s forensic team that was cause for concern in Clymene’s conviction. It was the DA’s inserting information into the trial about the death of Clymene’s previous husband, Robert Carthwright. He’d died of an apparent accident while working on one of his cars. At the time, Clymene hadn’t even been named as a suspect. There was evidence that a local handyman may have been involved, if indeed it was anything but the accident that it had been ruled.
But DA Riddmann’s strategy was to persuade the jury that the murder of Archer O’Riley was part of a larger pattern and that Clymene was more than just a onetime killer—that she was a serial black-widow killer. So he raised new suspicions about her culpability in the death of Robert Carthwright. He drove hard on the dark motives that lay behind her elaborate measures to hide and fabricate her past. And he coupled all that with extensive evidence of a sociopathic personality.
The hard evidence connecting Clymene to Archer O’Riley’s murder was more than sufficient for a conviction, and bringing in information about her uncertain past and her previous husband’s death would only present grounds for an appeal. Diane had thought it was a bad move. But the prosecution strategy was the DA’s call.
Be that as it may, the scrapbook link wasn’t as weak as Clymene liked to claim. Her lawyer had made much of it. If he could convince the jury of its absurdity, then the competence of the prosecution would be put in question and doubt cast on the validity of all the prosecution’s evidence.
Clymene’s scrapbooks were certainly not the main evidence, but for Diane they provided a powerful insight into Clymene’s modus operandi. Ross Kingsley, the profiler, loved them.