by Blake Pierce
“And how long has she been staying with you?”
“Today makes three days that she’s stayed there. But she’s come over a few times before that.”
“When was the earliest?” Avery asked.
“Three weeks ago, maybe?”
“Were you still physically involved with Alfred Lawnbrook at that time?”
“That’s personal.”
“Yes, I suppose it is. But since Alfred Lawnbrook is dead, I don’t see how it can harm you or him. So…were you involved with Alfred when you started seeing Clarissa?”
“Not really,” Stefon said, looking away in an ashamed manner. “I mean, we had hooked up a few days before I invited Clarissa to my house. But like I said…there was no relationship with Alfred. Just fooling around.”
“And he knew this?”
“Yeah. We both wanted it that way.”
“Before her stay of three days, when was the last time Clarissa had spent time with you?”
He thought about it for a moment before answering. “Two days before. We spent the day together. Had lunch, went back to my house and messed around. Had dinner. She left for her house around midnight.”
“She indicated that you guys stay up late. What do you do during those late hours?”
“Hit up some parties. But…it’s mainly just sex. She’ll tell you the same. We’re both…I don’t know. Freaky, I guess.”
“Freaky in the same way you thought Alfred got off on knowing there were spiders in the same room even though he was terrified of them?”
“Sort of.”
“Well, we’ll talk to Clarissa and check your alibis. If we can determine your whereabouts within twenty-four hours of Alfred Lawnbrook’s death, you’ll be free to go. It will have to be airtight, though. You have to understand how bad this looks for you, right?”
“Yeah,” he said. “But I swear…it wasn’t me. You know…even if you can’t come up with an alibi between me and Clarissa, there might be something on my computer. You guys can track log-ins and log-outs, right?”
“We can. Why do you ask?”
“The forum I met Clarissa on…I’m on there a lot. I’ve been trying to make some connection to maybe write articles for people. About spiders and things like that. Some obscure online nature mags pay pretty good for that kind of stuff.”
Avery recalled seeing the beginnings of a few articles on his coffee table. It wasn’t an alibi by any means, but it was at least something that added up.
“We’ll look into that,” Avery said. “In the meantime…can you remember anything Alfred ever said that might make you think he had enemies? Someone who really had it out for him?”
“No. He was a quiet dude. I mean, he was afraid of what his mom would think if she knew he was in a gay relationship but…no, nothing like enemies.”
“And do you know of anyone else that knew of his intense fear of spiders?” Avery asked.
Again, Stefon put some actual thought into his answer before slowly shaking his head. “Not that I know of. He seemed to be embarrassed about it, though. So I guess he wouldn’t really have shared it.”
“And have you told anyone else about his fear?”
“I told Clarissa. But that was right after I saw that he had died. Me and her, we got in a fight about that. She said it would be a good way to go and I thought it was insensitive.”
Avery nodded, relaxing a bit. She was pretty sure Stefon Scott had nothing to do with the murder of Alfred Lawnbrook. Even though the trail pointed there, it was all in his demeanor and his willingness to have them look into his computer records and speak to Clarissa.
“We’re going to need you to stay here until your alibis are checked out,” Avery said, getting to her feet. “In the meantime, I suggest you do your best to be polite to anyone else that asks you questions. Do you understand?”
He nodded, finding it hard to look at her. “You know,” he said. “There’s one thing about Alfred that I found a little weird…but it only just dawned on me right now.”
“What’s that?” she asked.
“He was open to the possibility of facing his fear of spiders. I think that’s really the only reason he kept seeing me. He wanted to get over the fear. And I know I didn’t kill him, even though you aren’t convinced. But…if he wanted to get over a fear that badly, I couldn’t be the only one he told, right? Someone else had to have known. Someone he trusted.”
It was a good point. Avery had considered it already but the way Stefon put it added a new twist.
He wanted to get over his fear of spiders.
She felt like it meant something, but she wasn’t sure what just yet. But she thought Stefon was right: if he was set on overcoming his fear, he likely told more than one person. And if it had not been his mother, then who?
It was a good question…and one she thought they needed to find an answer to as soon as possible.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Abby Costello found her mind racing in some strange directions as her body was jostled and shaken. As a huge movie buff, she had seen far too many movies where someone is captured and put into the trunk of a car. She’d always thought that it was unrealistic—that a full-grown person could not bend in a way that would allow them to fit inside.
It was ironic, then, that she had found out just how wrong she had been. Only, ironic wasn’t the word. Horrifying was a better word.
It was a fitting word, for sure. She was blindfolded and had something wrapped tightly around her mouth. She was pretty sure it was a ball gag. And she was indeed in a trunk. And with the exception of an ache in her knees where her legs were bent, it turned out that she had fit inside it easily enough.
She wasn’t quite sure how she had gotten here. She’d been a little excited when her date had asked if she wanted to try something different. And when he had pulled out the straps and blindfold, her mind had gone two ways: one, excited and a little turned on; two, a very quiet and creeping unease.
Abby knew she was a good-looking woman. She’d known since high school when three guys had asked her to the prom, something that had been reinforced in college when not only one but two fights had erupted at frat parties over her. She’d never had problems getting a date or the attention of men. Therefore, she had always had full control of her sex life. She could have it when she wanted and was okay turning it down, knowing that it would come along again whenever she had the need.
She’d felt a slight need when she’d met her date that night. She knew she’d eventually sleep with him. He was cute and he treated her like a queen. But now she was gagged and blindfolded in his trunk. Now she was smelling the car’s exhaust and something that smelled like dust and mothballs in the trunk.
It was even scarier when the car came to a stop. She figured he had been driving her around for about half an hour. She tried to roll over onto her back, hoping to somehow escape when he opened the trunk. But, as it happened, she could not manage to get off of her side. When he popped the trunk open a few seconds after killing the engine, she felt the cool air and would have given just about anything to see where they were.
She tried speaking to him, asking Where are we and why are you doing this? But all that came through the gag was a muffled noise.
She felt his hand grab her wrist, which was bound behind her back with the straps she had seen an hour ago and assumed would be tied to a headboard. He yanked her up easily but not with the gentle hands that she’d allowed to caress her breasts the few times they’d met before. He was rougher now and not at all interested in her most secret areas.
“We’re here,” he told her as he helped her to stand.
She felt the car’s bumper against the back of her legs. Without her eyes, she could only use scent and sound to determine where they were. Neither of those senses helped much; the night was quiet and her nose was still cluttered with the smell of exhaust and the inside of his trunk.
“Come on,” he said, his voice in her ear.
She tried pull
ing away, lunging hard to the right. He yanked her back, his grip like a vise now.
“Try that again and I’ll break your arm,” he said. His voice was calm and almost reasonable.
She began to sob through the gag, a sound that was like the mewling of a wounded animal. She was shaking as he led her forward. Three steps, then six, then ten, then twenty. She was pretty sure they were on grass and then hard-packed dirt.
And then she heard and felt wood beneath her feet. A few more steps and the wood seemed to shift slightly under her feet—almost like it was wobbling.
Then she heard the very light sounds of splashing—of water under the wood.
No, she tried to say, but it came out in a muffled whine against the gag.
Just thinking of water made her lungs ache. Blind panic seized her and she suddenly found it very hard to breathe.
God, no. Please…
She froze in place and fought against him again. Let him break her arm. She didn’t care. She had to get away. Her blood was flooded with what felt like acid as terror spread its arms wide through her body.
A dock—I’m on a dock. There’s water…a body of it. But where? Oh God…
Still, she fought to breathe. The fear was like some vise around her lungs. There was not a single drop of water on her, yet she felt like she was drowning.
He did not break her arm. Instead, he punched her hard in the back, right at the kidney. She buckled and fell and without giving her a moment to recover, he started dragging her forward. Her knees scraped against the wood—the wood of a dock or small pier, she assumed. Even as he dragged her, she could hear the water.
The water…waiting for her. Waiting to swallow her up into its deep and limitless belly. She shuddered and tried screaming through the gag. She wished he’d just kill her. Shoot her. Stab her. Bash her brains in…just please God, not the water.
Miraculously, he removed the blindfold in that moment. She saw that her other senses had done their job. She found herself on the edge of a small pier, looking out onto a body of water. Night had not yet fallen and the light of dusk on the water would have been beautiful…if it hadn’t been for the water. That murky, deadly water.
As she looked at it, her bowels clenched and her lungs seemed to shudder. Her chest grew tight and she started to sob.
“I know you’re scared,” he said from behind her. “And that’s okay. There’s nothing wrong with being scared.”
Abby could see street lights in the distance, probably having just clicked on. She wondered if she could make enough noise through the gag for anyone out that way to hear her. She wondered where they were. Where in the city was there this much water? It certainly wasn’t the harbor. It was too pretty…too quiet.
Her thoughts were broken when she felt his hands snaking around her neck. She tried to fight away again and this time was rewarded with a hard knee to the small of her back. She crumpled again and this time when she hit her knees, she fell on the pier less than a foot away from the water. She gasped, her heart hammering in her chest and—
That’s when his foot struck her backside. She went off the pier in a little half-flip. When she heard the splash and felt the water rushing past her head to swallow up her body, she tried to scream. But the gag would not let her and the pressure of the water made it impossible. She kicked her legs and tried to swim, realizing that her hands were still tied behind her back. She kicked and whimpered, knowing the surface was somewhere overhead. She could swim, knew how to swim, but the panic was too much.
She managed to break the water a single time. She saw her date, the man she thought had been cute and very kindhearted, sitting on the dock and watching her. He smiled at her, his eyes fiery and intense.
His face was the last thing she saw. The panic and fear was simply too much.
When Abby went under the second time, she never made it back up.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
By seven thirty that afternoon, Avery’s hunch was proven to be true. Stefon had not one but two solid alibis for his whereabouts during the timeframe of Alfred Lawnbrook’s murder. A series of video files that had been saved to his computer and heavily edited took up almost three days that—based on new information from the coroner—bookended the suspected time of Lawnbrook’s death. The videos, of course, were about spiders and featured the three tarantula wolf spiders he’d had in the glass case in his living room.
The second alibi had come from Clarissa, who had happily handed her iPhone over to show a series of text messages from Stefon during that same time. And while the texts could have easily been sent from anywhere, it was the two long phone calls that proved most useful.
Stefon was released and went peacefully. Avery nearly felt the need to apologize to him but didn’t bother. She wouldn’t have done it three months ago and, quite honestly, wasn’t sure why she felt the need to do so now. Maybe the three months off had softened her a bit. That or the emotional hell she’d been through over the course of those three months.
Stefon’s release set Avery back to zero. She was only left with vague questions and theories, none of which had yet developed feet. She sat in her old office with Kellaway, Finley, and O’Malley. The space was cramped but Finley seemed to love the fact that his office was being used in such a way. Kellaway, meanwhile, seemed appreciative to be part of such a high-profile case. Still, she was keeping a cool ahead about her and was not holding a grudge toward Avery’s little outburst earlier in the day.
Little by little, Avery was growing to like her quite a bit.
“What about drugs?” Kellaway asked as they tried their best to ping-pong ideas back and forth off of one another.
“What about them?” O’Malley asked.
“Were there any drugs in Lawnbrook’s system?” she asked.
“Toxicology reports say no,” O’Malley answered.
“But maybe there’s an avenue there somewhere,” Avery said. “Stefon claimed Lawnbrook was interested in getting over his fear of spiders. He also insinuated that having sex in the same room where there were spiders might have been an attempt to help with the fear. I’ve also learned that there’s apparently a small online community that is obsessed with spiders. It makes me wonder…if Lawnbrook was willing to confide his secret to Stefon and try any means necessary to overcome this fear, maybe he went elsewhere with it, too. Maybe he did know the killer. Maybe Lawnbrook met him online and the interaction with the spiders was intentional. Maybe it just got out of hand.”
“It’s certainly worth looking into,” O’Malley said.
“Yeah, but that was a shitload of spiders,” Finley said. “You’d think you’d sort of ease yourself into it if you’re trying to get over a fear.”
Avery nodded. It was a good point. Still, the thought of the exposure to the spiders being intentional had legs—especially if Stefon was accurate in just how badly Lawnbrook had wanted to get over his fear.
“What if it was Lawnbrook himself?” Kellaway suggested. “What if he had slowly collected them—either to get over his fear or to impress Stefon Scott?”
“Possible,” O’Malley said. “Finley, can you get someone on that for us? Someone to nose around the Internet to find these weirdo communities. See if you can find any link to Lawnbrook.”
“I’ll sic a few people on it,” Finley said, getting up from the desk.
“And I’m going to get back home,” Avery said. “I’ll do some digging of my own.” She gave Kellaway a little nod of appreciation and then exited the office. She got perhaps five steps away before Kellaway’s voice stopped her from behind.
“Detective Black?” Kellaway asked. “Um, can I ask a favor?”
“What is it?”
“My car broke down three days ago. I’ve been taking the bus to and from work and I was wondering if you could give me a ride?”
“Sure,” Avery said, noting how embarrassed Kellaway seemed to be asking for the favor. “And hey,” Avery added after some thought, “you can drop the Detective Black s
tuff. If we’re going to work this case to completion, you can call me Avery.”
This seemed to make Kellaway’s day, as she was unable to contain her smile. Avery hid her own grin, finding some comfort in the fact that she could at least make some people happy.
***
“I feel like I need to apologize to you,” Avery said. They were words that had never come to her very easily, not even when interacting with Rose. But given the course of her life over the last three months, she figured there were some things she needed to change about herself.
“For what?” Kellaway said.
“For sort of snapping at you earlier when you were asking those questions about Howard Randall.”
Kellaway considered it for a moment as she looked out of Avery’s passenger side window. The apology seemed to surprise her, taking her off guard for a moment. Finally, she said, “You don’t have anything to apologize for. I got overexcited. I mean…don’t get me wrong. I saw some pro-level shit in New York, but the whole Howard Randall connection and all of your cases had me geeking out.”
“I’m not geek-out worthy,” Avery said. “Trust me.”
“The stories I’ve heard about you say otherwise. It sort of blew me away that so many macho men were speaking so highly of you.”
“Macho?” Avery asked with a chuckle. “Like who?”
Kellaway shrugged. “Most of them. I get it, you know. They’re trying to put on a show, trying to seem tougher than they really are. I’m young and small-built. They’re going to rib me and give me a hard time.”
“Not too much of a hard time, I hope. Not a PR-reportable hard time.”
“Oh, no…nothing like that.”
“Most of the guys at the A1 are pussycats,” Avery said. “You just need to assert yourself. And so far, it doesn’t seem like that’s an issue for you.”
“It never has been,” Kellaway said. “I’m actually more concerned about what you think of me, if I’m being honest.”