The Hunt

Fifteen

"It must be so fuckin' near we just don't see it." Mark said as we walked to the car "Don't know, maybe we should stop and think about everything again."

"Let's start from the beginning and talk to Jessica again, she still has to explain why she didn't say a word about the threats. I don't think Bennett hid it from her."

Mark's phone started to buzz  "Davidson. Yeah, we'll be there in ten. Tell her to wait, will you? See you. It was Tom, he said Bennett's wife has just arrived, she wants to tell us something."

Mrs Bennett was a good looking woman, with a classy and sophisticated air. She wore an elegant black dress and had a very light make up. 

"Mrs Bennett, I'm detective Davidson and this is my partner detective Mitchell." Mark shook her hand "Come this way please."

"Good day detectives," she said in a strong French accent "I'm a bit tired because of the flight but considered this could be interesting for you." She took something from her purse and showed it to us. It was a picture of a family, with parents and four kids. Two girls and two boys, the eldest girl being about seventeen. A younger girl, probably eight or nine years old was sitting on her lap, and two boys between twelve and fourteen were behind them. The parents were in each side of the picture. Everything in that picture was about the teenage girl." He didn't explain why he had sent me the picture, just asked me to give it to the police if something ever happened to him. I phoned him when I received it but he kept asking me to give it to the police. Mon Dieu, it is as if he knew something would happen to him."

"Did he tell you where had he found the picture?" I looked again at it. It had nothing special in it, just a happy smiling family in the early 90s. And yet, it had the clue to solve the murder.

"No, I wish he had done. " 

"Mrs Bennett, how often did you talk to your husband?" Mark asked pulling me out of my thoughts on the picture.

"Every two or three days, despite the distance he kept in touch with me and the girls. It's funny, sometimes I thought he regretted having dumped me."

"And her current girlfriend, did you talk to her too?"

"Not that much, no. I met her once, she was kind of absorbing with Martin. She was way too devoted to him, but maybe that's how Americans are. Or some of them at least."

"Did Mr Bennett ever talk to you about her?"

"No, no. But, just two or three days before he...died, he told me it was over. He was moving to Paris with  me and the girls, he had managed to get a job at Musée d'Orsay. It was his dream job, he loved impressionist painters. He told me he had to arrange something here before flying to Paris, and next thing I knew what that he had been killed." Mrs Bennett took a small handkerchief and wiped her tears.

"There's something we need to ask you, it's a bit delicate." I said "Did he ever mention someone called Vicky, or Victoria "

She whispered lightly "Yes, when we were still dating. He told me he had done something he deeply regretted, when he was in Harvard. The girl was dating a friend of his, Albert Vernon. They went to a party in the fraternity house and things escalated quick. Vernon got the girl drunk, and...and they abused her. Martin, Vernon and another friend of theirs. From that moment on he distanced from them. And well, life brought them back to his life after so many years. Even if they all lived here they were in different circles and let's say they avoided each other."

"So, he mentioned you the threats."

Mrs Bennett's voice broke "Oui...at first he thought it was a sick joke from Vernon and he talked to the other man...don't remember his name now."

"Campbell?"

"That's it, Campbell. The three of them had got the same email in fact, but they didn't think it was important. "

"This will be all for now, Mrs Bennett. You've been really helpful. Just one thing, how can we contact you in case we need talking to you again?" 

"I'm staying at State Plaza for three or four days, until I arrange Martin's stuff. Room 3260. " She extended a well cared hand to Mark and then to me. 

"C'mon Vicky, tell us something." I muttered.