I called her at the police station in Codderville. I have her direct line, one she’s tried to get changed often but the brass won’t let her do it. So I still call it whenever I’m in the mood.
‘Luna,’ she said upon answering.
‘It’s me.’
‘Joy.’
‘You don’t know what’s happened,’ I said.
‘And now you’re going to tell me,’ she said.
‘Graham’s roommate was murdered last night and Graham’s the prime suspect.’
There was a moment of silence on the other end of the line. I tried one of her own tactics on her: I kept quiet and let the silence mount.
Finally, she said, ‘Is this a joke?’
‘That would be a pretty sick joke,’ I said.
‘But not beyond you,’ she said.
‘No, it’s not a joke. I’m in Austin. Willis and the girls were here with us but they’re on their way back. I’m staying here with Graham.’
‘Who’s handling the case?’
‘Austin,’ I said, like duh.
‘I mean who? On the homicide detail?’
‘A Detective Champion,’ I answered.
‘Nate Champion? Fifties, looker?’
‘That’s him,’ I said and tried to contain the sigh I knew was just inches away from my mouth.
‘He’s good,’ Luna said. ‘I worked with him on a task force back in the day. Smart. Mention my name.’
‘And maybe he won’t arrest my son?’ I asked.
‘I wouldn’t go that far. If there’s evidence, Graham will be arrested, Pugh, you know that. Is there evidence?’
So I explained about the stabbing and the blood and the fact that Graham had none on him.
‘And you saw him immediately after he discovered the body?’
‘No, of course not! It took maybe an hour and a half to gather the troops and get here to Austin.’
‘So you don’t really know if there was blood on Graham or not?’
I took the phone away from my ear and looked at it. Finally, I put it back and said, ‘Who the hell’s side are you on, Luna?’ OK, maybe I didn’t say it – maybe I screamed it.
‘Whoa, Mama. I’m looking at this from Nate’s point of view. I know Graham, he doesn’t. But if you mention me he might be more polite.’
‘I don’t give a rat’s ass about polite, Luna! I want them to find out who really did this and stay away from my son!’
‘Of course you do,’ she said, her voice soft. Again, I took the phone away from my ear. Luna never talks to me in a soft voice. Ever. This wasn’t going well.
‘Don’t patronize me, Luna!’
‘I’m not. Look, I have a few days’ vacation built up. Want me to come down there?’
‘I have a double room,’ I said.
‘Let me talk to Eduardo’ – Luna’s husband – ‘and I’ll get back to you. But save that bed.’
‘Luna?’
‘Yeah?’
‘Ah. Thanks?’
‘Whatever,’ she said, and hung up.
Nate Champion decided he’d go with the crime-scene techs when they luminoled the vic’s dorm room. Stuart Freeman had called him, told him he was representing Graham Pugh and suggested that they luminol the Pugh kid’s bed, clothes, the floor around him, ad nauseum. Champion figured it couldn’t hurt but he was only hours away from finding the kid, Mirandizing him and bringing him in, the well-stacked mother be damned. She was just going to have to face it: her kid was a murderer. Of course, he knew Stuart Freeman personally and by reputation. He was a nice guy – if you liked pit bulls. So Champion knew he’d have to have all his ducks in a row on this one.
He stood by the closed door of the dorm room, close to the light switch, while the techs hung a blackout curtain on the one window and sprayed the entire room with luminol. Champion wasn’t the scientific sort and had no idea what was in the stuff. All he knew was once you sprayed it, turned out the lights and hit the stuff with a black light, blood showed up really well.
‘The lights, Detective,’ one of the crime-scene techs said and Champion hit the switch, bringing the room pretty close to darkness. Using the black light, the tech started walking the room. The blood around the vic’s bed, on the floor, and even some on the ceiling, showed up great. But that was about it. The rest of the room was clear.
That is, until the tech stripped Graham Pugh’s bed and sprayed the mattress. Then the black light showed a large patch of blood.
‘Interesting,’ Champion said.
‘Lights,’ the tech said and Champion again flipped the switch. ‘What?’ the tech asked. ‘You think the kid did it, then got rid of his clothes and sheets and shit?’
‘Could be,’ Champion said, staring at the spot on the mattress that had shown blood stains under the black light. ‘Yeah, could be.’
My cell phone rang as Graham and I were coming back from dinner. I saw it was Stuart Freeman and answered, saying, ‘Let us get in the room, Stuart. Just a second.’ The temp had dropped drastically with the sunset and I wanted to get inside before hypothermia set in.
We hurried into my room and I put the phone on speaker. ‘Graham’s with me. What’s up?’
‘We’ve got a problem,’ he said without preamble. ‘They did the luminol testing.’
‘And?’ I asked, puzzled. Surely that would clear Graham.
‘There was blood on Graham’s mattress,’ Stuart said.
I looked at my son, who was looking back at me. Then I saw something in his eyes and his face turned red. ‘Graham?’ I said.
‘Ah,’ he started. Then got up and left the room.
‘Graham!’ I called after him.
‘E.J.? What’s going on?’ Stuart asked.
‘I don’t know! He just got up and walked out. Stuart, let me call you back!’ I said and hung up the phone, the door knob already in my hand as I headed to my son’s room next door.
I knocked but got no answer. ‘Graham, open this door! If you don’t, I’ll call the desk and tell them I think you’re in trouble and have them unlock it! Do you want me to do that?’
The door opened. All I got was my son’s back as he headed to one of the queen-sized beds and sat down, his head in his hands.
I came in and shut the door behind me. ‘What’s going on?’
‘I can’t,’ he mumbled.
‘You can’t what?’ I asked, sitting down next to him.
‘Nothing,’ he mumbled.
I pulled his hands away from his face. ‘Graham! Damn it! What’s going on?’
‘I can’t tell you,’ he said, his head down.
‘Why the hell not?’ I demanded.
Finally, he looked at me. ‘Because you’re my mom.’
That took me aback. I sat there looking at him, then said, ‘Can you tell your dad?’
He was quiet for a moment, then sighed and said, ‘Yeah, I guess I have to.’
My cell phone was still in my hand, so I hit the number that would instantly call Willis’s. He answered on speaker phone.
‘Hey, babe! Everything OK?’ he asked.
‘Maybe not. Are you home yet?’
‘No, just passing through Codderville. Should be home in a few minutes. What’s going on?’
‘Call Graham on his cell phone as soon as you get there,’ I said. ‘And not on speaker. And not around the girls. Take it in our bedroom, OK?’
‘Ah, yeah, OK. What the fuck—’
I hung up and looked at my son. ‘Will that work?’
He sighed again. ‘It’ll have to,’ he said.
I left his room and went to mine, immediately calling Willis’s number again. ‘Take me off speaker,’ I said when he answered.
‘What?’ he said.
‘Did you pull over?’
‘No—’
‘We don’t talk on our cell phones while driving, unless we’re on speaker, Willis. What kind of example are you setting—’
‘Yeah, right, whatever. I’m pulling over.’
> ‘Then step out of the car,’ I said.
‘What the shit is going on?’ he demanded.
‘Are you pulled over yet?’
‘I’m taking an exit now. Just hold on, I’m putting the phone down. You know, bad example—’
‘Shut up,’ I said, not sure that he had heard me since there was no answer. I could hear the engine noise of his truck and the girls talking – mostly asking their father what was going on.
Finally, I heard a door slam and Willis say, ‘OK, now what?’
So I told him.
‘Blood on his mattress? And he’ll only talk to me?’
‘That’s about it,’ I said.
Then he said, ‘Oh!’
‘Oh, what?’ I demanded.
‘Nothing,’ he said, ‘I’ve gotta get home so I can call him.’
‘Then you call me immediately and tell me what’s going on.’
‘Um, well—’
‘Willis!’
‘Probably,’ he said and hung up.
I sat in my motel room with the phone in my hands for what seemed like hours. And maybe it was. Finally, it rang and I saw Willis’s name on the screen. ‘What?’ I demanded.
‘OK, honey, here’s the thing …’ Willis started.
‘What?’ I yelled, then caught myself. Graham could probably here that in the next room, so I whispered, ‘What?’
‘He busted a cherry,’ my husband said.
‘What?’ I asked again, wondering if that was the only word I knew, then it dawned on me. ‘Oh my God,’ I said. ‘Whose?’
‘He didn’t go into detail. He said he didn’t know she was a virgin and he felt really bad about it, and he was only with her that one time—’
‘One time? You take a girl’s virginity, you don’t instantly drop her—’ I started, on a roll.
‘Now’s not the time, babe. He said he didn’t even know her name. They met at a party and they were both drunk—’
‘Oh my God! Did you teach him nothing? You’re his father, for God’s sake! You have a responsibility—’
‘Now’s not the time! The problem is he doesn’t know her name. So we might have a problem proving it isn’t Bishop’s blood.’
That stopped me cold. Then I said, ‘What about DNA and all that stuff? Wouldn’t that prove it?’
‘I don’t know, honey. Depends on how well our son cleaned up the mess.’
‘Well, shit!’ I said. ‘At least I taught him how to clean. Now we’re in real trouble!’
FIVE
‘Hey, Nate,’ Carl Rios said, leaning on the wall of Nate Champion’s cubical.
‘Hey, Carl, what’s up?’
Carl Rios was the senior crime-scene tech and took care of all the evidence brought in from the scene. ‘Gonna piss you off,’ he said.
Detective Champion frowned. ‘Just tell me.’
‘That blood on the roommate’s mattress?’
‘Yeah?’
‘Pretty damn old. And definitely not the vic’s. If I could venture an educated guess, I’d say the roommate had female company, and either she was on the rag or new to the big it,’ Rios said.
‘Damn,’ Champion said. Then, looking up at Rios, said, ‘Don’t tell the kid’s lawyer. Not yet.’
‘Hey, man, I don’t talk to lawyers! Ever. Last one I talked to managed to get everything I own to give to my ex! ’Sides, talking to lawyers is not part of my job description.’
‘Yeah, whatever. Shit!’
‘You really liked the kid for it, huh?’
‘What’s not to like? He’d sit up in the middle of the night and stare at the vic like he wanted to kill him,’ Champion said.
‘Who told you that?’ Rios asked.
Champion thought about it. ‘Never mind. Thanks,’ he said, got up from his desk, got his service revolver out of the drawer where he kept it and headed out the door, thinking, Yeah, who told you that, stupid?
I was in a quandary: did I talk to my son about what Willis had just told me? Did I chastise him for getting drunk? Ask him if he was too drunk to use a condom? Give him hell for not getting the girl’s name and trying to make amends of some sort? Of course, how does one make amends for that? Dinner and a movie didn’t seem like a good choice. Was he sure she gave consent? Oh my God. Did Graham take real advantage of this drunken coed? Was there some poor girl out there thinking she’d been raped but not knowing who her abuser was? My stomach was in knots and I felt like vomiting. All those talks we’d had, my son and I, throughout high school, about respecting girls. About thinking of someone doing that to one of his sisters. About respect. About all that stuff you try to teach a boy. Did all that fly out the window when he had too many beers in him? Is that what happened?
I tried to calm myself down. I didn’t know what had happened with this unnamed girl. But I needed to find out, and I needed to keep calm while trying to find out. I took a few deep breaths and left my room, went to Graham’s and knocked on the door.
And all the effort of trying to calm down disappeared. ‘Did you rape that girl?’ I demanded on seeing my son.
His eyes got huge as he backed away from me. ‘God, Mom!’
‘Did you?’ I demanded.
‘No! Jesus! What’s your deal? Why would you think that?’
I collapsed on the unused queen-sized bed. ‘I’m sorry,’ I finally managed to get out.
‘Jesus! The police are accusing me of murder and now you’re accusing me of rape? Fuck!’
‘Watch your language and sit down,’ I said, without much authority. I was pretty sure I’d blown that. He sat down on the other bed. ‘Tell me about it,’ I said.
‘No! It’s none of your business! I can’t believe Dad called you and told you! I mean, shit! I can’t trust either of you!’ At that, he jumped up and fled the room. I was right behind him but not quick enough to stop him from getting in the Celica and taking off, leaving rubber behind him.
‘Luna, it’s me,’ I said into the phone.
‘I figured it was you when your name came up on the screen. I’m smart like that.’
‘You’re a smartass, that’s for sure. Look, you need to call that Champion asshole.’
‘Pugh—’
‘Don’t start with me! They found blood on Graham’s dorm room mattress—’
‘Damn, Pugh—’
‘He, well, he had a date.’
‘Uh-huh. And?’
‘They were drunk and she was a virgin,’ I said quickly.
‘OK, so it’s not the roommate’s blood?’
‘Of course not! You need to tell Champion that!’ I declared.
‘He’ll figure it out on his own,’ she said.
‘I don’t have time for that shit! Also, when you’re talking to him, you need to find out the name of the witness, maybe two witnesses—’
‘To what? Somebody saw him do it?’
‘Of course not! Bishop told somebody that Graham stared at him at night when he should have been sleeping, and somebody else said they witnessed a fight – a verbal fight – between Graham and Bishop.’
‘Bishop’s the vic?’
I sighed heavily. ‘Of course! Haven’t you been listening?’
‘Pugh, I’m about to hang up here!’
‘No, no, no, don’t do that.’ I sighed again. ‘Elena, I’m terrified. What would you feel if this was one of your boys?’
There was silence for a moment, then she said, ‘Terrified. I talked to Eduardo and I’ll be heading to Austin tomorrow. You still have that bed for me?’
‘Yes. Thank you. Yes!’
‘How’s Graham holding up?’
‘Ah, well, probably not so good.’
Again I heard only silence. Then she said, ‘What aren’t you telling me?’
I could feel sweat – or maybe it was tears – coursing down my face. ‘I accused him of raping that virgin.’
‘Did he?’ she asked.
‘Of course not!’ I said. Then added: ‘I don’t think so. I hope not.’
‘So he’s not speaking to you?’ she asked.
‘He ran off in his car. I have no idea where he is. Don’t tell Champion!’
‘I won’t. But find him.’
‘I don’t have wheels! He took the only car we have here.’
‘Have you called him?’
‘No, I called you instead.’
‘Very thoughtful of you,’ she said, I think sarcastically. ‘Call your son.’
‘When are you coming here?’ I asked – OK, pleaded.
‘OK, I’m leaving now. Just as soon as I hang up the phone from talking to Nate Champion,’ she said and hung up on me. I sighed with relief.
Graham hit the drag, going up one side of Guadalupe and down the other. Not doing what one usually does on the drag: looking for friends, cute girls, someone selling weed or tacos or both. There was way too much on Graham’s mind to worry about what was happening on the drag. He was trying to remember what the girl looked like. Medium was all his mind could conjure up: medium height, medium-length medium brown hair, medium pretty, medium hot. She was taller than his sister Bess but shorter than his sister Megan. He didn’t even contemplate comparing her to Alicia. He wasn’t going there. Not now, not ever.
She had to have a name, but did he know it? Where did he meet her? It was at a party, he knew that. Whose? Wait. Dave what’s-his-name – that guy – the one who— Wisher! Dave Wisher! On Lamar, near campus. It was coming back to him!
He left the drag and headed for Lamar Blvd. He wasn’t drunk when he originally found the place, only when he left. Surely he could remember landmarks. And then there it was: the fourplex where Dave lived, where Dave threw that party. The party where he’d met the girl. The girl who … He wasn’t going there either. The fourplex faced a side street off Lamar. He turned onto the side street then directly into the small parking lot of the fourplex. It was coming back to him now. It was upstairs, in the back.
He jumped out of the Celica, not even bothering to lock it, and headed up the stairs, two steps at a time. When he found the right door, he just stood there for a moment, breathing heavily. It wasn’t from the stairs – he played intramural basketball and was damn good, and fast. No, it was from fear. Something he’d been feeling for two days now: deep down dread. Behind that door would be an answer to one of his questions about his own character: did he molest that girl? Was he a drunken rapist? The answer to that might lead him to answer the other question: was he a murderer?
Student Body Page 4