Repercussions

Roger Markum, his face a mask of utter calm, sat at the scarred, green-topped table facing what he knew was a one-way mirror and waited.

"Look at him," Olivia said from the other side of the glass, "ice wouldn't melt in his mouth. Have they found anything at the house?"

Cragen shook his head.

"Get in there and turn up the heat."

Olivia opened the door to the interview room. She laid a thick file folder on the table and sat in the chair opposite Markum. Elliot followed, closing it behind him.

"Why'd you kill her, Roger," Olivia asked, her eyes boring into Markum's.

"I didn't kill my wife."

"Janet? You didn't kill Janet, you mean?"

"No, my other wife. Of course Janet."

Elliot glanced at his partner and raised his eyebrows. He paced to the corner of the room.

"Sarcasm now."

Olivia opened the file folder and took out photos of Janet Markum's hotel room.

"It took me a while to get past the things at the scene that were just slightly out of place. Like this for example," Olivia said, pointing to one of the photos, "You left the phone on the table, but didn't turn it to the wall. Is that because you knew she wouldn't try to call for help the minute you walked in the door?"

Elliot walked over and put his face close to Markum's collar.

"I bet if we looked under there we'd find fresh scratch marks. You know," he looked up at Olivia, "maybe we're wrong about old-Rog, Olivia, maybe Janet just liked it rough. Maybe it was a big accident."

Elliot moved to the end of the table and sat down. Olivia put another photo in front of Markum.

"This, this was really good. You remembered to tie her hands with the scarves, but you did it after you killed her. There weren't any marks on her wrists from the struggle. All the other women you raped had burns on their wrists."

Markum adjusted the cuffs of his shirt under his suit jacket. When he looked up at Olivia his face was blank, except for the hint of a smile in his eyes.

"Is it just me you don't like, Detective Benson, or is it all men?"

Olivia's eyes narrowed but her hard stare never wavered.

"You know, maybe I was wrong. Maybe he's not man enough to have pulled this off," Elliot said.

"So I had sex with my wife, so what? That's a pretty normal thing for a man and wife to do," Markum said. His eyes didn't leave Olivia's face. "And yes, I have scratches on my neck. Janet could be a little...wild occasionally. None of that means I killed her."

Olivia smiled, wide and slow.

"See, that's where you're wrong. We have you on the train back from Connecticut. We've got you in New York at the time Janet was being killed, and we've also got you in six other hotel rooms raping six other women."

"Based on what? There was no evidence in those cases. At least, that's what the paper said."

Olivia pullevereveral photos from the stack. Each showed the side of a woman's head where a large chunk of hair had been hacked off. The second row of photos she laid in front of Markum showed the upper-left shoulders of six different women. Each woman pictured had a W delicately etched into her skin. Olivia laid out two more photos, both from the morgue, both of Janet Markum. The photos showed the same markings as the other victims.

"What's the W stand for, Roger?"

Markum glanced from one photo to the next. He shrugged, his face impassive.

"You fucked up Roger. These two little details right here, they never made it to the papers. The only person who knew about these is our guy. Since the security tape from the hotel doesn't show anybody between you and the maid, that makes you our guy for Janet. The details we never made public, only the guy who did the other six could have known them. That makes you our guy for all of them."

"Security tapes are notoriously unreliable. It's a big stretch, Detective."

"I'm curious," Olivia said, "Did you get the idea to kill your wife before or after you'd raped those other women?"

Cragen and Alex stood on the other side of the one-way glass. The stiff lines of Olivia's body belied her apparent calm. Alex could hear the undercurrent of frustration in her voice. The door to the observation room opened and a clerk handed Cragen a note. He glanced at it and knocked on the window. Elliot got up and left the interview room.

"What'd they find?"

"Nothing."

"Damn. He's sitting there looking at photos of his wife in the morgue and he hasn't even twitched. She can't sweat him any harder. He was too careful."

"So, make him think he wasn't careful."

Elliot nodded and re-entered the interview room. He leaned down and whispered in Olivia's ear.

"When I'm done talking to you smile like I gave you good news."

He moved away from her and back to the chair at the end of the table. The big grin plastered across Stabler's face drew Markum's attention. He did a slow head turn as he saw a smile creep across Olivia's face.

"I miss a joke some where?"

Elliot smoothed out his tie.

"Isn't it amazing how someone so clever and so smooth could forget to wash his tools?"

"Not as clever as he thinks," Olivia said, sharing the put on with her partner. "You did 'em all, Roger, and we can prove it."

Markum adjusted his cuffs again. A small smile touched his lips. He fixed his gaze on Olivia and leaned forward.

"A good craftsman always has more than one set of tools, Detective Benson. I think I'll talk to my lawyer now."

******

Alex leaned against Olivia's desk while she and the detective squad waited for Munch to finish his phone call. He dropped the receiver into the cradle.

"No luck. His boss says the building is closed until Monday. Fire alarm and electrical system tests. Come Monday, he's willing to give us the run of the place."

Greg Forrester exited the interview room and stalked over to Alex. Stabler and Olivia entered the interview room to collect Markum.

"You're going to hold him while you build a case. Come on, Alex. You've got nothing and you know it."

"We've got your client lying to the police about his whereabouts during the time frame in which his wife weingeing brutally beaten and murdered. We've got his DNA on her body. I think we've got plenty."

In the background, Stabler frog-marched Markum out of the squad room. Olivia approached the two lawyers. She stood slightly behind and to the side of Forrester, watching Alex over his shoulder. Her mind flashed back to Alex's living room, and Alex on her lap, soft, blonde hair spilling over her shoulders. Forrester's voice brought her back to the squad room.

"The DNA evidence is crap Alex and you know it. He had sex with his wife. Big deal. So they got a little rough, so what? What a married couple does in private is just that, private. Your search was a total zero and you've got nothing else. You've got to charge him or let him go."

"You and I both know that Mallory says we can hold him for 72 hours before we arraign him. Your client's spending the weekend in jail, Greg."

A hard knot appeared at Forrester's jawline as he clenched his teeth.

"I'll see you on Monday, Alex."

Forrester strode out of the squad room, setting the doors swinging wildly behind him.

"You know that guy," Olivia asked, moving closer to Alex's position against her desk.

"Law school. He's still just as aggravating."

"Should we try to get in this weekend, Alex," Cragen asked.

Alex looked at her watch. 7:45pm...she shook her head.

"The building is inaccessible. I'm not interrupting a judge during Friday night dinner when the proprietor has agreed to a search as soon as the premises are available. I'll get a warrant on Monday when court's in session just so we're covered."

Cragen nodded. Elliot pushed his way through the swinging doors.

"He's in processing. He's not a happy camper."

"He say anything on the way down, like where we can find his trophies from the other six," Fin asked.

Elliot gave a little shake of his head, lips pressed together in a hard line.

"Olivia, you and Elliot, bright and early Monday morning at Markum's office," Cragen said. "Munch, Fin, that leaves the Video lab guys to you. Let's see if we can get a positive id off the tapes. Everybody get some rest. Monday's going to come too soon."

Cragen walked back to his office and shut the door. Munch dropped his feet to the floor from where he'd rested his legs across the corner of his desk.

"Any one like to join me for a Friday evening cocktail?"

"Nah, thanks, John," Elliot said as he neatened up his desk.

"Alex? Olivia," Munch asked, pulling his coat off the back of his chair and placing his hat on his head.

Olivia watched Alex's face carefully as she shook her head.

"Thank you, but no. I've got a previous engagement."

Olivia shook her head as well.

"Going home. Next time, John."

"You sure? One quick little cocktail...," Munch said, shrugging into his coat as Fin pulled his off the coat rack.

"Really, I can't. I've got to get home before I go back out. Ask me again another time."

Alex smiled at Munch. She locked eyes with Olivia briefly, then she turned, and made her way out into the hall.

"Looks like it's you and me chief," Munch said as he and Fin headed for the hallway.

"Only if you promise never to call me chief again."

They pushed out into the hallway. Elliot put on his coat. Olivia hovered near her desk, straightening the file folders that leaned in an awkward stack in her inbox.

"Call him."

Olivia's head snapped up. Elliot's hand brushed the roses as he snapped off his desk lamp.

"You had plans, it's not that late. Call. Worst thing that will happen is you'll get a no."

Olivia nodded as he made his way out into the hall. She flipped through her Rolodex, picked up the phone and dialed.

******