“Amy goes between not believing he’s dead to wondering why the killer hasn’t been caught.” I looked up at his eyes. “She’s on medication, but it really isn’t helping. Nothing is helping us.”
“I’ve contacted the state police to ask for more help than they’ve given. I need more manpower to check out any and all leads, but we haven’t been left with much. The heavy rain after your son’s death made all of this more difficult. We’ve been over every part of that area. There is not a shred of evidence. No footprints, no hair, no clothing fibers, no prints or traces of blood other than Truman’s.”
“What does that mean? Does it mean you’ve given up?”
“No, it doesn’t at all. We have to keep interviewing people who knew Truman or people he had contact with on Facebook. Of course, the other problem is we never found his cell phone. Maybe that would give us some insight into who he’d last had contact with. There’s a long process we have to go through in order to get the cell phone records. We should get them soon. I don’t know. We’ve sent out a description of the murder to all the police agencies in the nation to see if there’s any matches similar to that of Truman.”
He sat forward in his chair. “I know it’s not much to go on here, but I’m convinced this crime was not committed by a transient. I think someone had a grudge against Truman or against his lifestyle.”
He looked at me closely, leaning in even further. “Some sick son of a bitch did this, Mr. Engroff. Some sick son of a bitch in this town, and I want to find him. If you’ll forgive me for saying this, your son was a good boy. I’ve done enough investigation now to know your son was a very good and very bright boy.”
“I got a call from John Collier this morning.”
He knitted his brows. I think he was thrown off by the fact that I didn’t respond to what he’d just said.
“Who?” he finally asked.
“Senator John Collier. He’s a good friend of my grandfather.”
“Oh. I see.”
He seemed disappointed or irritated. I assumed it had something to do with ownership. I liked Parachuk, but this was Truman. The person who had done this had to be found. He had to be tried and, hopefully, eventually, executed. I had begun to think about that recently. At night when I couldn’t sleep. Amy and I sitting in the viewing room waiting for the person who had ruined our lives to look out at us, the press, the warden, his family huddled in a corner weeping, and then to make some hollow apology before they injected a poison into him so he would die and Amy and I would never have to think about him again. It wasn’t a satisfying thing to contemplate, exactly, but it felt real. It felt as if it could happen, and, because I was surrounded by so much that wasn’t real anymore, I wanted it to happen.
“He wants some FBI agents to come down and have a look at the case.”
His face turned red suddenly.
“I can’t prevent them from doing that, Mr. Engroff. I don’t know what they can do…”
“I don’t either, really. I don’t care what anyone does or doesn’t do. I don’t care about any of that. I only care about someone finding whoever killed my son, detective. Who does that is of little importance to me. I’m sure this is all different from your side, but it’s not from mine. I only want results.”
I had never used my position or money or background to make anyone feel inadequate, and it wasn’t my intention here, really. But I didn’t care what kind of perception Parachuk or anyone else had of me. My Truman was dead. He would never again come down from his room, or walk out our door, or come back in the door, or not wear socks, or make me want to put my arms around him and feel the heat of his body, the soft murmur of his heart. None of that would ever happen again, and now I wanted the person who’d taken all that from me found. I didn’t care about any of the rest.
I stood. “I’m sorry to have intruded on a Sunday, detective, but I thought you’d like to know that things must be done soon.”
He stood as well, and when he looked at me I realized once again that he was a kind man, and he was trying to do his job. I’m sure he was.
“I’ll keep working at this, Mr. Engroff. That’s all I can do.”
“Yes,” I said. “Please tell your wife thank you.”
“I will,” he said. He walked me to the door leading outside. “I’ll try and keep you updated about our progress.”
He opened the door and looked out at the cloudless sky. “Do you know how close Truman and Logan Marsh were?”
“I know they were friends. I know the Marsh boy goes to Columbia, a freshman there. I know Truman often went into the city to see him, spend the night there.” I stepped outside and felt a gust of wind. “He’s a few years older than Truman, but I guess you could call them friends.”
“What kind of kid is he? Do you know?”
I looked at this kind man, holding the door open for me, his feet clad with slippers. He’d surely been bargaining for a quiet Sunday alone with his wife. “If Truman liked him enough to go into the city to visit, I’d imagine he was a very nice boy.”
“Yes,” he said. “I imagine he is.”
He watched me as I stepped further out from his front door.
“Maybe Truman confided something to him that could give us some insight. Something he doesn’t even know he knows. That happens sometimes.”
“Yes,” I said. “Maybe.”
I walked toward the driveway, waving my hand in case he was still watching. When I got in my car I, too, looked up at the sky. I realized then, as I felt the gin coursing through my veins, that this particular Sunday was very similar to the Sunday when I walked out to get the paper and I still thought the world was a lovely place to inhabit.
Carly
Three months before Truman’s death
So I had to go to the Rite Aid for my mother because of her monthly visit. She’s still embarrassed to buy Tampax. Are you kidding me?
Afterward I walked over to the war memorial to sit on the bench even though it was a fairly cold day. I love that place, because Truman and I have spent so much time there all our lives together. And out of the corner of my eye I saw this guy walking toward me. I mean, I wasn’t nervous or anything. It was the middle of the day and there is no crime in Persia. Zilch. Until, well….
But as he got closer I knew who it was. I remembered Roger Claus as soon as I saw him, because he was this really skinny guy with a thin neck and a sort of long nose like a beak and dark brown hair and black-rimmed glasses.
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
His face brightened right away. He pointed at me and said, “Carly, right?”
I nodded.
“Ha! This is so weird. I came out on the train to visit Truman. As a kind of surprise. But it turns out he’s not home. No one was. I guess I should’ve called.”
He was still trying to wear a beard, but it wasn’t working in the least. Guys like that don’t realize how foolish they look with this sparse hair on their faces and cheeks, which in his case was made even made worse by the fact that he had a bad skin problem and his teeth weren’t very white even if they were very straight.
I must’ve been too stoned to notice the first time I saw him. He had on a jeans jacket and a T-shirt and really worn, almost dirty-looking jeans and sandals. I mean, he was very skinny. I think he was wearing patchouli but he didn’t have dreadlocks. He had a nice smile and I could tell he wanted to hug me, but I gave him the signal that wasn’t a good idea.
I don’t know why.
I wonder how many people are fucking in love with Truman? This kid wanted to hug me because Truman and me have always been so close. I guess I just had to remind myself that I was pretty high up in “the pecking order,” as Roger had said that time.
But like I said, this Roger Claus had a really nice smile and it’s because of that I didn’t feel vulnerable or even really jealous. When I’m around Logan and Truman I do feel sort of vulnerable, but this kid was sweet. He was really sweet, and if he was the person Truman h
ad fallen in love with, then I was really happy for that.
Roger kept pushing his glasses up and he kept scuffing at the grass, which was pretty brown now. He looked at me as if he just now realized we were there together. Even though he wasn’t really attractive, I could tell he was relaxed with people when he knew them.
I could see why Truman liked him so much. Maybe Truman and I should have talked about that. I almost felt a shift in my feelings toward Truman, like I could finally accept that we were never going to that cabin together. I don’t fucking know.
I got right to the point.
“So you’ve just been like, wandering around Persia? I mean, are you taking the train back?”
“I’m actually glad we ran into each other, Carly. I was probably going to call you one of these days anyway.”
This time I looked at him directly in his eyes, maybe even with a little anger, because the last thing I wanted to talk about was Truman and I was certain that’s what he wanted to talk about. He scuffed at the grass again, looking down, I imagined, to see what his feet were doing. Then he looked up at me, pushed up his glasses on his nose and let out a deep sigh. Maybe this was the high drama Truman was talking about? I almost laughed.
“I have to tell you something and I hope you’ll listen to me and not think I’m weird or anything. I mean, a bunch of us were at a party, Logan and me and Truman and two other guys. We met at our dorm, mine and Logan’s dorm, and I remember Truman came late and I was kind of disappointed because I was afraid he wouldn’t show.”
I looked at him carefully again and he had this really sad look on his face and then I realized he must really be in love with Truman. I mean, who wasn’t, in one way or another?
“Why?” I said.
He shrugged his shoulders and then looked at me, his face very serious.
“But he did show up, finally,” he said, without answering my question. “And we all shared a reefer. This guy across the hall in our dorm was away for the weekend. Everyone was coming in and out. I mean, not everyone, but a lot of people who knew Logan could hook them up with shit were coming in and out. And so either I said or Truman said he and I should go across the hall to be alone.”
I didn’t want to sound impatient, but like I said, the last thing I wanted to hear was a story about Truman, from a guy who I could see now was definitely in love with him. I put my hand on his arm and he pulled it away quickly. I was pretty astonished and I looked at him to see what was up.
“Look Roger,” I said, pretty angry now. “I appreciate that you know Truman and I are very close and that you need to talk about Truman, but I have to tell you, I don’t think I can handle this right now. I don’t think I can.”
He nodded again, but it didn’t seem like he really heard what I said.
“We went there, to this dude’s dorm room across the hall, and I could kind of tell Logan was pretty on edge even though weed normally makes him very mellow.” He shrugged again. I was thinking that wasn’t the experience I’d had with Logan’s highs. “I think it had something to do with Truman and me, because we’ve become pretty tight lately.”
He looked at me and smiled. He pushed his glasses back up on his nose. “I mean, the reason I knew to call you was because I’d come out here that time I first met you to see Truman. At first Logan didn’t mind we’d become friends, but then Truman started calling me, and me him, and then Logan did mind.”
He shook his head as if he wanted me to agree with something, but I wasn’t sure exactly what that was. He started his scuffing routine again and then he looked at me and his face brightened.
“I love Truman, Carly. I think he loves me, too.”
I was floored by that. Truman had never told me anything about this guy and suddenly I was suspicious of him. Why the fuck was he telling me this stuff?
“Jesus Christ,” I said. He nodded as if he agreed.
“The thing is, Logan loves him, too, or at least wants him, wants to possess him. That’s Logan’s thing. He always wants what he wants and it really only has to do with him. It doesn’t have to do with anything else.”
“You know, Roger,” I said, “I don’t think I want to hear any more of this. I mean, I have my own personal feelings about Truman and they go back almost our entire lives together. I…”
“I knew you were going to respond this way, Carly, and I know all this. Truman talks about you a lot.” He smiled again even more brightly and then took a deep breath. “But you need to listen to me. I need to tell someone and you are the only person I can trust, and only you because of what Truman’s told me about you. If I hadn’t run into you, I was going to call you anyway.” He put up a hand in case I was about to protest. “Let me finish. Please!”
This time I nodded. I had a feeling this was going around a corner I didn’t know anything about.
“So Truman and I went to the dude’s room—” he looked at me quickly and then looked away. “We just wanted to be alone, Carly. It was really hectic in my dorm room and it wasn’t like I could see Truman all the time. So we took advantage of the situation. Not a big deal, right?”
He rushed into the next part so I wouldn’t interrupt. “We were in there for a while, and when we finally came across into my dorm room, Logan was there and he was really, really pissed. He said something like, ‘Look Engroff, I invited you in here so we could all enjoy some company and then you fucking disappear. What the fuck is up with that?’
“Something like that anyway, and then I started to say something and Logan came over and slapped me so hard he knocked my glasses off my face. My nose started bleeding a little, and I was…I don’t know, a little scared. I mean, you know, Logan’s a pretty big guy, but that didn’t seem to matter to Truman.”
Roger began to tear up a little.
“Truman got between the two of us and pushed Logan so hard he fell back and over an ottoman and landed on his ass. Truman knelt down and picked up my glasses. And then he did the sweetest thing: He put my glasses back on my face for me.” He shook his head and I saw some tears come down his cheeks. “I’ll never forget that gesture. I never will.”
He took another deep breath and let it out.
“Anyway, by that time, Logan was back up and had started toward Truman, but Truman just stood there. He didn’t flinch, or back away. He just stood there and stared Logan down. Then one of the guys who was in the room said something funny and everyone sort of laughed, including Logan. But Truman didn’t laugh. He kept looking at Logan, and then, after a long time, he said to Logan, ‘Fuck you, asshole.’
“Then he turned to me and asked if I was okay. I told him I was and then he kissed me on the cheek and put his arms around me and hugged me. And then he left. I think he had to be home or something. Maybe his parents wanted him home that night. I don’t know. I don’t remember.”
He stopped then and looked at me with this look like, “Do you see?”
His eyes were red from crying and I wanted to hug him, too, at least part of me did, but the other part of me wanted to do what Logan had done. I mean, why the fuck was this guy telling me this? I already knew how loyal Truman was. I already knew he wasn’t ever afraid of anything. I already knew.
“I’m sorry for you, Roger. I really am, but I’m not sure why you’re telling me all this.”
“After Truman left, I went down a floor to a guy who I get along with and we stayed up for a long time. I think I talked a lot about Truman and what had happened. And when I got back to my dorm, Logan was still awake. I had never been afraid of Logan before, but after what happened, I was. When I came in he just stared at me at first, but after a while he started pacing back and forth in the room. I could tell he’d had a lot to drink or he’d scored some coke, because he was really cranked up. And he wasn’t making much sense except that he said he’d never been so humiliated in all his life. He thought he and Truman were best friends, that they’d shared so much together, and then for Truman to do what he did was unforgivable.”
He stopped and looked at me intensely.
“That’s what he said, Carly: ‘unforgivable.’ At one point I thought he was going to hit me again, but he didn’t, and after a while I realized all his anger was directed toward Truman. I tried to change the subject, but Logan wouldn’t have it. He said some really mean things about Truman, and said some threatening things about him, too. Anyway, I’m telling you this because you are so close to Truman and I think you should talk to him about Logan. You know how Truman is. You know he just shrugs this stuff off as unimportant. He has this attitude like nothing can ever happen to him. Nothing can hurt him, like somehow he’s impervious. I guess it’s one of the things I love about him.”
He stopped and looked around as if someone was watching us or overhearing what he was saying. A chill went up my spine.
“I don’t trust Logan, Carly. I know he has never gotten over what Truman did, and even more, how Truman feels about me. Logan has become really weird since that night. I mean he hasn’t actually made any threats or anything, but he says really ugly things about Truman…things that just aren’t true. And the thing I understand, Carly, is how rich people have a different attitude about the world and of what they can do and get away with. I come from that kind of world and I know.”
“So are you saying Logan is going to hurt Truman?” I felt anger creep in and replace the weirdness I’d felt just before. “Is that what you’re telling me?”
“I’m telling you when I try to talk to Truman about this he won’t listen. He just shrugs it off as Logan being an asshole and spoiled. But, I don’t know. I sense something more than that.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know. Some dangerous part of Logan. Like I said, he’s different since that night, and not just about me. He’s different about Truman, also.” He looked at me in a pleading way then. “Won’t you please talk to him…reinforce what I’ve already told him? I know you don’t like Logan. I just know you don’t.”
I nodded. “Yeah, you’re right. I don’t.”
I looked at this Roger Claus and then I realized maybe he was right. Maybe Truman was in some kind of danger. My whole life I’d grown up in privilege and I knew that all of us, all of my friends, including Truman, got mostly what we wanted when we wanted it. I also knew Logan Marsh was a dick. He was the epitome of that idea of entitlement, and now a kid who came from the same background was telling me I should warn Truman.
Beneath the Weight of Sadness Page 18