French Kiss

Chapter 43

Burke and I wait for Adrien Ramus.

We wait in a smaller, bleaker room than the one in which we met with Ballard. This room is located within the high-security area, where the most treacherous prisoners are kept. It is not solitary confinement, but it is the next worst thing. Isolation, only relieved for food and fifteen minutes of recreation a day in the yard.

The room has no table, no chairs. It is bare except for the emergency button, three clubs, and three mace cartridges that hang on the wall.

The door opens with the same horror-film creak as the door in the previous interview room. Tomas Wren once again accompanies the prisoner, but Ramus apparently warrants three guards to keep him under control. What’s more, I suspect that the handcuffs behind Ramus’s back will not be removed.

Ramus is gaunt, thin as a man with a disease. His nose is too big for his face. His eyes are too small for his face. Yet all his characteristics come together to form a frightening but handsome man. He could be an aging fashion model.

Years ago, during his booking, his trials, and his sentencing, Ramus spat on the floor whenever he saw me. When this vulgarity earned him a club to the head from a policeman or a prison guard, Ramus didn’t care. It was worth a little pain to demonstrate his hatred for the detective who had brought him down.

Ramus does not disappoint this time. Upon seeing me he immediately lobs a small puddle of spittle in my direction.

I sense madness-not only in Ramus but also in myself. I reach across and grab him by the chin. I push his head back as far as it will go without snapping it off. I know the guards probably hate Ramus as much as I do. I know they won’t stop me. I could beat Ramus if I wished to.

“My partner! My lover!” I shout. “It was you!”

He just stares at me. He twists his neck forcefully, trying to relieve the pain of my assault. I let go of his chin, then shout again.

“You have sources on the outside who can do such things!”

Now Ramus smiles. Then he speaks. The voice is rough, the words staccato.

“You are a fool, Moncrief. I have sources, yes. But anyone inside this pit of hell can buy influence outside. Put the pieces together, Moncrief. Are you so stupid?”

He spits again. Then he just stares at me. I speak more softly now.

“You will burn in hell…and I cannot wait for that time! I cannot wait for God to burn you. And you will do more than die and burn. You will first suffer. And then die and burn. I will see to it.”

He says, “When I heard that your two women friends were killed I was happy. I was joyful.”

My heart is beating hard. My chest is heaving up and down. Ramus continues.

“Some men are very powerful…sometimes even more powerful in the shadows of a prison than they are on the streets of the city.”

I feel my hand and both my arms tense up completely. In seconds I will be at him once again. This time I will force my hand around his neck. Then I will force my fingers around his Adam’s apple. Then…

He speaks again.

“Believe whatever you want, Moncrief. It is of no meaning to me. As I say, you are a stupid, pathetic fool. When will you learn? Where I am concerned, you are powerless. The boss? He is Ramus.”

The tension and strength suddenly drain from my body. My arms fall to my side. I am the victim of a perfect crime.

I bow my head. I have solved the case, but the women closest to me are gone.

I try to control my shaking limbs. I try to hold my feelings inside me.

“Get him out of here,” I say to the guards.

Ramus says nothing more. They lead him out. It’s over.