Page 40 of The Bridesmaid
‘OK,’ I say. ‘Shoot.’
He nods. ‘Firstly, we’ve confirmed on the security footage outside the storage room where we found the murder weapon. The only people who entered, the night Simone died, were the four bridesmaids. Last in line was supermodel Petra Morka. But—’
‘But since the body was hidden in a dress container,’ I fill in, ‘it’s possible that any one of the bridesmaids came in after the murder, and didn’t realize there was a body in the box.’
He nods. ‘So there’s that,’ he says. ‘But we’re also strongly investigating the possibility that this murder is linked with the previous kidnapping of Adrianna. How much do you know about that?’
I shrug. ‘Same as most people, I guess. Just … what I saw in the news. That picture of the panic room with blood and hair on the floor.’
His face looks pained. We all saw the images of Adrianna when she exited that room.
‘The family had a showy wine cellar, which they also fitted out as a panic room,’ he says. ‘On the ground floor of their grandcolonial house. The kidnapper somehow got Adrianna into that room unseen. Held her there for three days.’
‘How come no one looked there?’
‘Misdirection. One of the party guests heard a speedboat leaving the island, in the middle of the night. Police piled all their resources on locating it. I have the full report from the Colombian police.’
He begins summarizing at speed. ‘Adrianna was drugged. Went to an upstairs bedroom feeling dizzy. Woke up gagged and handcuffed with no idea where she was.’
He turns his phone and begins sliding his thumb across pictures. The filthy remains of the panic room, with a blood-spattered bed. A close-up of a pair of rusted manacles.
‘You said the panic room was on the ground floor, right? She was carried down from an upstairs bedroom?’
‘Right. And according to guests, the celebrations went on all night. The only way to the panic room was through that wild party.’ He thumbs his phone. ‘And … there’s an artist’s impression of the person Adrianna saw when she woke up. Stuff of nightmares.’
He flashes me the screen. I lean closer, then recoil instinctively.
The figure wears a long black cloak, and an almost featureless white mask. All the more disturbing for lacking any discernible mouth or face contours. A slightly peaked center hints at an upturned nose, and the eyes are crossed-hatched, presumably to indicate some kind of gauze or wire covering. A long cloak, buttoned at the collar, conceals the figure’s entire body, and two arms emerging halfway down show gloved hands.
‘How does someone dressed like that walk through a party of two-hundred people?’
‘It was a masquerade ball,’ he says. ‘Venetian style. Everyone wore a mask.’
‘Even so …’
‘We had a few eyewitnesses said they saw this figure at the party,’ says Fitzwilliam. ‘No one knew which guest it was. No cameras anywhere.’ His mouth twists wryly. ‘Elysium is one of the few places the Kensingtons can be truly private.’
His eyes drop back to his phone.
‘Adrianna says her captor never spoke to her. Not once,’ he continues. ‘But through gestures and … assaults they exhibited an obsession or interest in the number three. Adrianna was made to put on three dresses. One each day. Fed three communion wafers, and allowed three sips of water. Her hair was hacked off three clumps at a time. Knife wounds were inflicted on her in the manner of the crucifixion. Three to each wrist, and three slashes across the ankles. You probably don’t need to see the injury detail pictures.’ His voice catches slightly. ‘The hospital treated her for multiple cuts, bruising, dehydration, and a dislocated wrist and fractured shoulder.’
‘So it was like … a religious thing?’
‘Maybe sacrificial even. There were also two dolls in the room.’
He shows another picture. Two bloodstained rag dolls, slashed through to the stuffing on the arms and legs, wool hair cut completely away.
‘Adrianna came to believe she was doll number three. That’s when she escaped. The damage to her shoulder and wrist were from her pulling her arm free from the manacles.’
We’re both silent, digesting this.
‘Three dolls,’ I say. ‘And there were three wedding dresses hanging in the Plaza. One with Simone inside.’
‘Right.’
‘That’s why the police used the name Trinity?’ I suggest. ‘Trinity for “three”?’
He nods.
