Arrogance is a Crime

"I want to do that again!" Mary screamed at the camera as she climbed out of the racer.

"No ma'am," Thomas said into the studio's camera.

The studio laughed and then the two anchors were again recapping the morning's headlines.

Britney Richards thanked Reynold for his report and photographs. Reynold's payment was transferred into his account and the two shook hands.

"Honestly? Was kind of hoping you wouldn't find anything," Britney confessed. "They just had a baby."

"Didn't stop Frankie from disappearing into the back with that bar whore," Reynold thought as he left the building.

That evening's broadcasts disclosed nothing new about Amy Grmillion's murder. There was a spokesperson from the hospital that talked in glowing terms of Amy's work at the hospital, how much she would be missed.

"Never hear anyone say 'God, she was a bitch! Glad she's gone,'" Reynold said flatly.

"Of course, might be one or two say that about me, huh?" he chuckled, thinking of Frankie Brown, the Kendricks Engineering employee that was about to find out that he'd been busted for attempted insurance fraud.

Three days later, Reynold Reynolds was on his couch, wondering when the phone would ring again. He'd learned, early on, when the checks came in, pay the essentials. Save anything left after the bills were paid. He never knew when the next call would come.

Paula Lee's high school graduation photograph flashed onto the screen.

"The nude body of Paula Lee, a nineteen year old resident of DeGarde, Louisiana, was discovered by her roommate this morning..." Chelsea Duhon, a newscaster for Performance 12 News announced.

Behind her was an exterior of the apartment complex. There were several police cars, two ambulances, and the Medical Examiner's van behind Chelsea as well.

"Holy shit," Reynold gasped as the camera swiveled from Chelsea to a shot of a gurney being pulled out of the apartment.

Even at the distance, Reynold could see the sheet was beginning to show splotches of pink where the victim's blood was seeping through.

"...Lee was an employee of the Dead End Lounge in DeGarde..." Chelsea continued to narrate as the gurney slowly made its way down from the second story of the apartment building.

There was also a young woman in the doorway, grief evident even at a distance. A police officer was talking with the young woman. The girl just kept shaking her head.

A later broadcast disclosed that Ms. Lee had been viciously, savagely stabbed to death. The force of the final blow had been so vicious that the knife had stuck in the girl's skull.

Of course, since it added to the salaciousness of the murder, the fact that the victim was nude at the time of her murder was mentioned in the broadcast. Also prominent in the broadcast was the fact that Paula Lee was a dancer at the Dead End Bar in DeGarde, Louisiana.

"Most stabbings are crimes of passion," Bob Chastaine, chief of the DeGarde Police Department was explaining to Cheryl Goodwin.

"The medical examiner had confirmed that there were twenty nine stab wounds to Paula's body and head," the newscaster reported.

Reynold shivered. It almost seemed as if Cheryl Goodwin was enjoying reporting on the horrific crime.

Reynold called the tip hot-line and reported to the harried sounding woman that he might have some information on both the Gremillion and the Lee murders. He was placed on hold and a moment later, the call was dropped.

Reynold gathered the papers from his Hebert investigation and made plans to go to the DeGarde Police Department in the morning. That evening, he had a date with a young mother of two boys.

The date went well; Heather Arnaud was twenty three, never married, and the mother of a four year old and two year old boys, each from different fathers. She did not have anything ugly to say about either father, just that when they'd discovered her pregnancy, they'd attempted to avoid any responsibilities.

"Damn that pesky DNA, huh?" Heather laughed. Both Bobby and Chad got to pay their child support. "But I got to tell you, thank God I work at Kendricks. There's a free day care there."

"Seems to be a nice place," Reynold agreed. "Met uh, Britney? HR?"

"Isn't she the coolest? She's married to Tuff, the CEO," Heather said.

The next morning, Reynold did decide it was time to get a new mattress. Especially if his relationship with Heather Arnaud progressed. There was a bit of an age difference; he was a few days shy of his forty second birthday. But she pointed out, she'd been the one to approach him; she had a thing for older men.

He finished his morning workout, then flicked the television on while he made himself an omelet.

"...Dominique St. Charles says she believes that it was a woman that attacked her. Had a neighbor not turned on his porch light and scared the attacker away, this young mother might not be with us today..." Chelsea Duhon stated.

"Dominique St. Charles? As in Greg St. Charles' wife?" Reynold asked the television.

A quick search on his phone showed that Dominique St. Charles was indeed the wife of Greg St. Charles, and the mother to his one year old twin girls.

"Okay, that's just too damned many coincidences," Reynold declared, skipping his breakfast.

As Reynold Reynolds was talking with Officer Don Sanders of the DeGarde Police Department, Tammy Chopin was preparing to put a load of clothes into the Hebert washing machine. Charlotte was still using diapers and Mrs. Hebert believed that cloth diapers were somehow better for her child than disposable diapers.

"Well, yeah, ain't her washing them no," Tammy grumbled.

She frowned at the Lexus in the garage, resisting the urge to 'accidentally' gouge the paint. Mrs. Hebert rarely drove anywhere, except to Babbage's or Abdul's department stores, or the Hardington Acres Country Club. Any errands that had to be run, she delegated to Tammy. Grocery shopping, doctor's appointments for Charlotte, any dry cleaning for Dr. Hebert.

Opening the washing machine, Tammy found some of Mrs. Hebert's clothes in the machine. She frowned; the blouse's tag stated very clearly 'Dry Clean Only.'

"Well that ruint yeah," she said, but hung the blouse on a hanger. The slacks and socks and undergarments, she threw into the dryer.

Then she dumped soiled diapers into the washer, dropped the detergent ball in and started the wash.

Thirty minutes later, Tammy showed Police Officer Leeanne Pyle the blouse hanging to dry. It was Leeanne that discovered the baseball bat stuffed behind the washing machine.

In the kitchen, Sergeant Stan Monroe pointed to the rack of knives.

"Mrs. Hebert, looks like one's missing. Any ideas?" he asked.

"Jesus, ask Tammy," Dianne snapped. "I rarely come in here."

"I don't know me," Tammy said, clearly frightened. "It was right there Tuesday. Remember, Mrs. Hebert? That's when I made them stuffed pork chops?"

"The ones you overcooked? Yes, no, no, that was Wednesday, wasn't it?" Dianne snapped. "Charlotte's fussing about something."

"Oh, I get her," Tammy squeaked and made a hasty retreat out of the kitchen.

"Maple wood handles," Sergeant Stan mused, looking at the knives in the block.

"Need Crime Scene Techs out here," Leeanne said into her shoulder radio. "Got a blouse and a bat."

Someone tipped Performance 12 News off and they rapidly sent a crew out to the Hebert home. The station broadcast images of Dianne Hebert being taken from her home in handcuffs. She screamed at the television camera, at the arresting officers, at her child's nanny. As nearly every word had to be bleeped out, it made for very entertaining broadcasting.

*.*.*.*

Eric Greene of Johnson, Johnson & Lambert was hired to be Dianne's attorney. Her mother and father were paying Eric's fees; Dianne's husband refused; he'd already paid for a Private Investigator to follow him, to inform Dianne of his derelictions. John Hebert did tell Dianne, the next time she paid for a private investigator, she might consider paying that P.I. with her own credit card, not his.

"It's all circumstantial," Eric Greene did tell Dianne. "The evidence the state has against you? It's all circumstantial. No one can place you at the scene of the crimes; so far they've not found any eye witnesses."

"Know why, genius? Because I didn't do it," Dianne snapped.

"But the baseball bat behind your washing machine did have Amy Gremillion's blood on it," Eric ticked off on his fingers. "The blouse in the washing machine had splatters of Paula Lee's blood on it. And the knife imbedded in her skull matches the slot in your knife rack."

Then maybe my husband did it," Dianne suggested. "They were his fuck buddies."

Eric pursed his lips. Circumstantial or not, the evidence was daunting. Juries had convicted on less. And Dianne Hebert was an unlikeable person. She was spoiled, narcissistic, arrogant. Juries did not like people like Dianne Pratt St. Charles Hebert.

Sarah Guillory's opening statements were skillful. Eric had to nod a drudging nod of respect to the ADA. Sarah first apologized to the jury. She was going to show them shocking photographs of the victims. She was going to have witnesses describe the horrific ways that these two women died.

"I'm sorry. I know you were probably hoping for a nice, easy trial, right? A bank robbery? Or maybe a case of insurance fraud? No one says to themselves, 'Boy! I hope I get a gruesome murder case!' But you did. And we're trusting you to do your sworn duty, no matter how unpleasant, no matter how upsetting," Sarah said.

"My colleague is right," Eric said as he pushed his wheelchair in front of the jury. "She's right. These were gruesome murders, horrific murders. And my client is innocent. She had nothing to do with these murders. She is just as sickened by what these two women had to endure, the horrors that they went through, those last few moments of their lives. But she didn't do it. She had nothing to do with either one of these murders. The state will shock you, will make you feel outraged. And you should. I certainly do feel outraged. My client, Dianne Hebert feels outraged at what happened to these women. But the state cannot place my client there. Why? Because my client didn't do it. My client. Did not. Do it," Eric said.

The Medical Examiner, Dr. Helen Morris was a young woman. In fact she looked too young to be a doctor. She ran her tongue over her bulky orthodontic braces as she described the injuries to Amy Gremillion.

"Do you recognize People's exhibit one?" Sarah Guillory asked, holding up the bloodied baseball bat.

"Yes I do," Helen affirmed.

She described how she had matched the bat to x-rays of Amy's injuries and determined that the size and depth and angle of the blunt force injuries were consistent with a baseball bat. She also confirmed that the blood on the bat was Amy Gremillion's blood.

One woman in the jury actually threw up when Helen spoke of Paula Lee's murder.

"The knife was so forcefully introduced to the victim's skull that I had to break apart the cranial bones to dislodge the blade," Helen said.

"Court will recess while we get that cleaned up," Judge Steven Hill ordered, banging on the bench with his gavel.

"Could you at least try to look like you give a damn?" Eric hissed at his client.

"Could you at least try to look like you're competent?" Dianne hissed in reply.

Eric's line of questioning centered more on the physical attributes of the killer, or killers of the two victims. He made sure to state that at least five times while cross-examining Helen Morris, Medical Examiner. Eric did his best to put the message into the jury's minds; there may have been two separate murderers.

Sergeant Elise Richards was blunt in her description of the murder of Amy Gremillion. She did not speculate or give opinion, just stated what she and her partner, Eric Mills had found when they entered the apartment.

Again, a few of the jurors looked queasy when Elise described the condition of Amy's face.

Eric Greene tried to again plant doubt in the minds of the jurors, but Elise was unflappable.

Officer Don Sanders then described the scene of the murder of Paula Lee. Judge Hill called a recess; he did not want to have to ask maintenance to clean the courtroom again.

"Juror number five, number six, number eight and nine, eleven and twelve are ready to convict right now," Amy Trahan, one of Eric Greene's colleagues whispered. "Two and three look like they could go either way."

"Okay, two and three," Eric said, planning how to approach them, sway them.

On the fourth day of the trial, Sarah Guillory called Greg St. Charles to the stand. Eric noticed that Dianne stiffened. He also noticed that Greg kept looking over Dianne's shoulder, at a bone thin red head. Greg's face looked like he was the one on trial.

Within moments, Greg fell apart on the stand. He admitted that he and Dianne had been conducting an affair that started two months before his wife Dominique gave birth to Jennica and Jessica, their twin girls.

"You son of a bitch!" Dominique screeched. "How could you? I was sick, with our babies!"

"I know!" Greg actually sobbed out. "You were so sick, doctor had you on that bed rest! I'm so sorry, I was weak, Dominique, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry."

"I almost died!" Dominique wailed.

"I know!" Greg wailed.

"Now I wish I had died," Dominique collapsed.

"No, oh no, oh Sweetheart, don't say that," Greg begged.

Eric asked Greg if it might have been himself that attacked his wife. Getting Dominique out of the way would let him reconnect with his one true love, Dianne Hebert.

"After all, you were married to her once," Eric opined.

"Hey, Dianne? In order for sex to be a reward? It has to be rewarding," Greg said to Dianne. "It can't be you lying on your ass like a corpse. It can't be you saying 'hurry up, my show 'bout come on yeah.'"

Greg was excused and Sarah called Dominique St. Charles to the stand.

Dominique glared raw hatred at Dianne. Dianne smirked; it had been almost too easy to lure Greg into her bed. Ever since that first time, it was almost like a drug to the spineless man. She had countless text messages from Greg St. Charles, asking for another dalliance.

Dianne's sneer of contempt was not missed by the jurors.

Sarah Guillory spoke of the attack. Dominique did not see the face of her attacker. It was too dark.

"Then, Mrs. St. Charles, how do you know it was a woman?" Sarah asked, looking directly at Dianne.

"'Cause men don't wear them no high heels no," Dominique said.

On day six, the state rested its case. Judge Hill adjourned the trial until the following day.

In a conference room of Johnson, Johnson & Lambert, Eric, Dianne, Amy Trahan, Priscilla Pratt and Dr. John Hebert met.

"Doctor, please, I'd really like to put you on the stand in your wife's defense," Eric pleaded.

"It wouldn't be in her defense," Dr. Hebert spat.

"She had every right have an affair; you were with those little tramps," Pricilla Pratt snapped.

"Sir, I know, it was hard to lose Ms. Gremillion, Ms. Lee, but..." Eric said.

"Hey, Dianne? Know why I was seeing them? They liked to fuck. Amy liked to scream. Amy knew that a blow job was a hell of a lot more than 'licky lick, I'm done. You're not? Too damned bad.' And Paula? Loved it up the ass. Dirty? Hell yeah she thought it was dirty and she loved it that way," John sneered.

"I'm not a slut like them," Dianne snarled.

"No. No you are not. Hell you're barely a woman, how could you be a slut like them?" John said. "Your boyfriend Greg? Said it best. 'In order for sex to be a reward, it has to be rewarding.' Beautiful. Couldn't have said it better myself. Amy? Never said to me she wasn't in the mood. Paula never said to me she was tired after sitting on her fat ass all day while the nanny took care of her daughter. As it is? Charlotte calls Tammy 'Mommy' at least once a day but you never noticed, did you? And Amy never withheld one of her blow jobs in order to get a trip to New Orleans."

Then John opened his briefcase and tossed a manila envelope toward Dianne. She just glared at him.

"In there? Pictures of what you and your friends did on your 'Girls Only' trip to New Orleans," John said.

At that, Dianne gasped. Eric did take the envelope and looked at a few of the photographs. Then he nodded his head and put them back.

"Had planned on getting a divorce, bounce you out on your fat ass," John said. "Then, next thing I know? Amy's dead. Then Paula."

"My ass is not fat. But, uh, have you looked at yours lately?" Dianne snapped.

"No, Mr. Greene, I really would not advise you put me on that stand," John said, getting to his feet. "But, they looking for someone insert the needles into her arm? I'll volunteer. Free of charge."

Eric's defense was skillful. He had his own expert witness that showed that the killer, or killers had to be at least three to four inches shorter than Dianne Hebert, judging from the angles of the baseball bat strikes, the stab wounds of the knife.

Sarah was not able to shake the man's testimony. And since she had used Dr. Lloyd Lawless on several cases, she could not dispute the man's credentials or his expertise.

Reynold Reynolds was called to the stand. He described being hired by Dianne Hebert. He described in detail what he'd been able to find while surveilling Dr. Hebert. He did confirm that Dr. Hebert did visit Amy Gremillion's apartment.

Reynold also spoke of the doctor's lunchtime visits to Paula Lee's apartment. The photographs were shown to the jurors.

Sarah clarified a few points, but did not attempt to discredit the man. She had used him on a few cases of insurance fraud and knew Reynold Reynolds to be a man of good moral character.

Against his advice, Dianne Hebert took the stand. Eric asked benign questions, asked a few questions in an attempt to make her look more sympathetic in the eyes of the jurors.

Dianne's arrogance, her haughty demeanor came through loud and clear. While maintaining her innocence, she also did admit that she was not in the least bit sorry that the two tramps had gotten what was coming to them.

Sarah Guillory stood, smiled broadly at the jurors and said "No questions."

The jury listened to the closing arguments of Sarah Guillory, then Eric Greene. Then, with instructions from the judge, the twelve men and women filed out.

Twenty minutes later, they returned to the court.

"We the jury find Dianne Pratt St. Charles Hebert guilty of murder in the first degree..." the foreman read off.

Dianne was shocked. Her mother gasped, grunted and clutched at her chest. Judge Steven Hill banged on his gavel to restore order to the court. Eric Greene hung his head as the foreman continued to read their verdict.

"But I didn't do it!" Dianne screamed at the jury. "I didn't kill them whores!"

*.*.*.*.*

Tammy Chopin praised Charlotte for going potty like a big girl. She rewarded the girl with a handful of animal crackers and a sippy cup of apple juice.

"Come on, tell Daddy what a big girl you are yeah," Tammy coaxed the girl when Dr. John Hebert came into the living room.

"I went poo-poo," the girl said.

"She went poo-poo in the potty, not in her diaper no," Tammy explained.

"Oh, well, that's my big girl, yes you are," John praised.

"Got something show you yeah," Tammy smiled up at him. "I show you later, hear?"

The night after Dianne had been found guilty, John was sitting in his home office, just staring into nothing. Tammy had come into the room to let him know that Charlotte was now in bed.

"That, what Miss Dianne," Tammy faltered.

When John looked up at the girl, she kissed him. She kissed John with a passion Dianne had never possessed. She kissed him with a hunger and ferocity that Amy nor Paula had ever displayed.