"So you and Susan had sex in her bedroom." Berger gets back to that on the tape. "Please continue. How long were the two of you in bed?"
"I would say until three o'clock in the morning. Then she told me I had to leave because she needed to get ready for work. So I got dressed and we made arrangements to see each other that night again. We said we would meet at seven at L'Absinthe, a nice French bistro in the neighborhood."
"You say you got dressed. What about her? Was she dressed when you left her?"
"She had a pair of black satin pajamas. She put those on and kissed me at the door."
"So you went downstairs? Did you see anyone?"
"Juan, the doorman. I went out and walked for a while. I found a cafe and had breakfast. I was very hungry." He pauses. "Neil's. That's the name. It is right across the street from Lumi."
"Do you remember what you ate?"
"Espresso."
"You were very hungry but all you had was espresso?" Berger lets him know she picks up on the word "hunger" and realizes he is mocking her, jerking her around, fucking with her. Chandonne's hunger wasn't for breakfast. He was enjoying the afterglow of violence, of destroying flesh and blood because he had just left behind a woman he had beaten to death and bitten. No matter what he says, that is what he did. The bastard. The goddamn lying bastard.
"Sir, when did you first learn that Susan was murdered?" Berger asks him.
"She didn't show up for dinner that night."
"Well, I guess not."
"Then the next day…"
"Would this be December fifth or the sixth?" Berger asks, and she is stepping up the tempo, indicating to him that she's had it with his games.
"The sixth," he says. "I read about her in the paper the morning after she was supposed to meet me at L'Absinthe." He now puts on the act of feeling sad about it. "I was shocked." He sniffs.
"Obviously, she didn't show up at L'Absinthe the night before. But you're saying you did?"
"I had a glass of wine in the bar and waited. Finally, I left."
"Did you mention to anyone in the restaurant that you were waiting for her?"
"Yes. I asked the maftre d' if she had been by and perhaps left a message for me. They knew who she was because of her being on TV."
Berger questions him closely about the maitre d', asking his name, what Chandonne was wearing that night, how much he had paid for the wine and was it in cash, and when he inquired after Susan, did he give his name. Of course not. She spends five minutes on all this. She mentions to me that the police had been contacted by the bistro and were told that a man had come in and said he was waiting for Susan Pless. All of it was painstakingly checked out back then. It is true. The description of the way the man was dressed is identical to Chandonne's description of how he was dressed that night. This man did order a glass of red wine at the bar and ask if Susan had been by or had left a message, and he did not give his name. This man also fit the description of the man who had been in Lumi with Susan the night before.
"And did you tell anyone you had been with her the night of her murder?" Berger says on tape.
"No. Once I knew what happened, I could say nothing."
"And what was it that you knew had happened?"
"They did it. They did that to her. To set me up again."
"Again?"
"I had women in Paris before all this. They did it to them, too."
"These women were before Susan's death?"
"Maybe one or two before. Then some afterwards, as well.
The same thing happened to all of them because I was followed. This is why I went more and more into hiding, and the stress and hardships made my condition so much worse. It has been a nightmare and I've said nothing. Who would believe me?"
"Good question," Berger says sharply. "Because you know what? I, for one, don't believe you, sir. You murdered Susan, didn't you, sir?"
"No."
"You raped her, didn't you, sir?"
"No."
"You beat her and bit her, didn't you, sir?"
"No. This is why I've told nothing to anybody. Who would believe me? Who would believe people are trying to destroy me all because they think my father is a criminal, a godfather?"
"You never told the police or anyone that you may have been the last person to see Susan alive because you murdered her, didn't you, sir?"
"I told no one. If I had, I would have been blamed for her death, just as you are blaming me. I returned to Paris. I wandered. I hoped they would forget me, but they haven't. You can see they haven't."
"Sir, are you aware that Susan was covered with bite marks and that your saliva was found on those bite marks and the DNA testing on them and on the seminal fluid found in her vagina matches your DNA?"
He just fixes those black glasses on Berger.
"You know what DNA is, don't you?"
"I would expect my DNA to come up."
"Because you bit her."
"I never bit her. But I am very oral. I…" He stops.
"You what? What did you do that might explain your saliva being on bite marks you say you didn't inflict?"
"I'm very oral" he says again. "I suck and lick. All over the body."
"Where specifically? Do you literally mean every inch of the body?"
"Yes. All of it. I love a woman's body. Every inch of it. Perhaps because I don't have… Perhaps because it is so beautiful, and beauty is something I can never have for myself, you see. So I worship them. My women. Their flesh."
"You lick and kiss their feet, for example?"
"Yes."
"The bottoms of their feet?"
"Everywhere."
"Have you ever bitten a woman's breasts?"
"No. She had very beautiful breasts."
"But you sucked them, licked them?"
"Obsessively."
"Are breasts important to you?"
"Oh yes. Very much_I am honest about it."
"You seek out big-breasted women?"
"I have a type I like."
"What exactly is your type?"
"Very full." He cups his hands at his chest and sexual tension shines in his face as he describes the type of woman who arouses him. Maybe it is my imagination, but his eyes gleam behind the black Solar Shields. "But not fat. I don't like fat women, no, no. Slender through the waist and hips, but very full." He cups his hands again, as if he is gripping volleyballs, and veins rope through his arms and his muscles flex.
"And Susan was your type?" Berger is completely unflappable.
"The instant I spotted her in the restaurant, I was attracted," he replies.
"In Lumi?"
"Yes."
"Hairs were also found on her body," Berger then says. "Are you aware that unusual long, baby-fine hair consistent with your unusual baby-fine hair was found on her body? How can that be if you'd shaved? Didn't you just tell me you shaved your entire body?"
"They plant things. I'm sure of it."
"These same people who are out to get you?"
"Yes."
"And where would they get your hair?"
'There was a period, in Paris some five years ago, when I started getting the sense someone was after me," he says. "I had a feeling I was being watched, being followed. I had no idea why. But when I was younger I didn't shave my body always. My back, you can imagine. It is very hard to reach, hard to shave my back, impossible really, so sometimes many, many months would go by, and you see, when I was younger, I was more shy with women and rarely approached them. So I didn't think about shaving as much, would just hide beneath long pants and sleeves and only shave my hands and neck and face." He touches his cheek. "One day I came home to the apartment where my foster parents lived…"