Part Eleven
 

The sun was blazing across the sky by the time Nick pulled into the precinct's
parking lot.  He took in a deep breath of the already warmed morning air as he
stepped out of the Caddy, then thought about Carrie and increased his pace as
he moved towards the building.  Knowing that she had only arrived a short time
before him, he hoped that he would be the first to interrogate her.  By this
time, she should be confined to a solitary room with only an observation
window and a tape recorder to document her account of what transpired in that
penthouse suite.

Turning the final corner in the hall, he paused at the entrance and looked
over the precinct's room.  A flush of angry blood rose to his face when he saw
Carrie surrounded by the other detectives and officers as she flirted with
them.  Moving through the circle of law enforcement officers, he gripped
Carrie by the upper arm and began to remove her from her awe-stuck audience.
Ignoring their groans of disappointment, he roughly guided her into a simple
room which held only a small wooden table and two plain wooden chairs.
Annoyed not only with her but the entire attitude of the precinct, he angrily
pulled out a chair and gestured for her to sit down.  Without protest, she did
as he implied, and watched as he stared intently at the floor as he paced.
Breaking into his thoughts, she spoke up.

"Did I do something wrong, detective?"

With seething anger, he turned to glare at her.  "Your husband's body is still
splattered over three meters of the Westin Harbour's parking lot.  Couldn't
you try to pretend a bit longer that you're the grieving widow?"

She smiled at him.  "Would you prefer that?"

Simmering with hostility, he moved closer to her until there was little space
between their faces.  "What I would prefer is for you to sign a confession,
and not let this drag on any further."

Without even blinking, she countered his accusation.  "Excuse me detective,
but just because I cannot display my state of mourning in the manner that you
see fit, does not mean that I did not love my husband."

Standing up, he took a breath to calm himself, but then fired another attack.
"Why did you kill him Carrie?  I know you did it, I just do not know why."

"So you know detective?  Then why don't you arrest me now?  You do have the
evidence to support your claims?"

"Forensics is working on it."

She grinned as she began to rise from her chair.  "Then you have nothing on
me.  And that means, as they say, that I am free to go."  Instead of walking
towards the door, she moved straight to where he stood by the wall and leaned
her body against his until he was trapped between her and the wall.  Standing
strong, he glared into her eyes.  "What do you want from me Carrie?"

"Off the record?  I want you, darling.  All of you."

"What about your state of mourning?"

She laughed at his words.  "What about it?"

Pushing her aside, he leaped for the door and stormed out of the room
colliding directly into Reese.  As Nick broke away from the Captain, Reese
called out.  "Nick, calm down!  What did she say to you?"

Nick turned back as he walked towards the door.  "Get her statement Captain.
I have to check something out."

                                   --------

His shift had ended hours ago, but finally he got the call he had been waiting
for all day.  The timing was perfect; it was right before his next shift was
to begin.  After placing dozens of calls and several Internet inquires the
entire day, he finally had the information he was searching for.  Carrie
Billingsly was also known as Carrie Welsly, and had before that been known as
Carrie Clark.  She had been married before.  Before the recent loss of her
husband Kenneth Billingsly, she had been married to a millionaire in the Long
Island area of New York.  They had been married less that two years when the
elderly man had died.  No autopsy had been performed, but the cause of death
was listed as a probable accidental drug overdose.  The deadly mixture had
been a combination of drugs that had been prescribed for him for several
ailments.

Carrie Clark was her birth name.  She had been born in West Virginia into a
poor family.  The only income that her family had came from her hard work as a
servant to the town's wealthiest man who was also her family's landlord.  Her
parents had died in a fire in their house that had never complied with safety
regulations because of her employer's negligence.  Soon after, Carrie's boss
was found dead.  He had hung himself in an apparent suicide in his bathroom.
A typed suicide note confessed that he had started the fire in an attempt to
kill Carrie's parents so that she would be his property forever.  She had run
away.  The police were never able to locate Carrie after that, and assumed
that she had run away to escape her troubles.

The next time that there were any records was a year later, when the young
woman married Seymour Welsly a prominent real estate investor, but a very sick
elderly man.  There had been a pre-nuptial agreement filed at the time, but
that was null and void in the event of death.  The contract was only valid in
the event of a divorce.  It was two years later that Carrie's name again
surfaced.  She had applied for residency in Toronto.  Then the last entry on
file was five years ago, when Carrie was welcomed into the high society circle
with her marriage to Kenneth Billingsly.

With only a minimal amount of research, Nick had already discovered that her
pre-nuptial agreement to Kenneth was also void in the event of his death, and
since he died of an accident, his high insurance pay off would be doubled.  If
Nat had anything that she could point towards Carrie, then he had her.

                                   --------

He had given Nat over twenty-four hours with Kenneth's body, before he went
down to the Morgue to see her.  She was just pulling on a fresh pair of
gloves, and was on her way to the gurney, when Nick walked in.  The dead
husband of Carrie Billingsly was still waiting to give her a reason for his
death.  As Nick walked further into the room, he saw Kenneth's name scrawled
with permanent marker on the toe tag.  There was only cold and silence left to
Kenneth's body.  He moved back as Nat turned on her tape recorder, and placed
it on a nearby stainless steel tray.  She circled her patient, leaning close
and looking close before she spoke.

"Circumstances could suggest suicide or an accident.  Fully rigorous with what
blood is left, settling to dependent regions due to gravity."  He watched as
she took a pair of forceps with one hand and moved the surgical lamp closer
with the other hand.  She gently removed a fragment of cloth.  Holding the
cloth up to the light, she again commented to the machine.  "It may be silk."

As she delved into what caused his death, Nick looked around the Morgue.  It
never felt so cold and stale as it did now.  Death filled her workplace.  His
eyes switched back to her.  She was truly a professional, and he admired her
for that.  He stood fascinated as he watched her stain specimen cards with the
remnants of the victim's blood.  He looked on in wonder as she analyzed and
searched everywhere for the truth.  He glanced away from the body to speak
with her.

"Did Mrs. Billingsly's clothes arrive?"  Pulling off a glove, she switched off
the tiny tape recorder.

"Yes, forensics just faxed over a report.  It's on my desk, but nothing
unusual turned up."  She slid the fragment into a clear plastic evidence bag,
and held it up.  "This looks like it came from her dress, but that would still
be consistent with her trying to catch him and him trying to save himself
after his tumble."

"Any signs of force?  Did she push him?"

She stared at him incredulously.  "I am lucky to have anything left to examine
after a thirty five floor fall, and you want to know if he was pushed?  There
is not one spot on him that was not broken, shattered, bruised, or crushed.  I
wouldn't be able to tell you if a train hit him before he fell.  I know you
think that she did it, but I have to tell you that unless you can find another
way to prove it, then I am going to have to call it an accident.  Sorry, but
you know it might have been just that - an accident."

"No, not this time.  This was not an accident."

She pulled the sheet over the victim's face.  "Good luck proving that
detective."  Pulling off her other glove, she moved around the gurney to stand
before him.  "I'm glad you came down here after last night.  I wanted to
apologize.  I don't know what got into me.  I'm really quite embarrassed.  You
were right to stop it, I just wanted to tell you that I was sorry."

With a softness in his eyes, he lovingly gazed at her.  "Maybe in a different
time."
 

End Part Eleven

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