by Lisa Bork
I opened my eyes a slit and tried to see through my tears. Was Peter still in the barn?
Unable to see or hear him, I attempted to swing my still-booted foot onto the top of the stall wall. It took me five tries but finally I managed to pull myself into a kneeling position between the bars. After a moment of rest, I got my feet flat on the stall wood and swung over the top of the bars. From there, I looked at the eight-foot drop to the floor.
In elementary school, I had thought nothing of jumping off the top of the slide. Of course, my bones were a lot less old and brittle then. On the other hand, the stall below had hay on it. Perhaps it would cushion my fall.
I slid off my other boot. Heels planted on the top of the wooden stall, I crouched as low as possible to shorten my drop and let go of the bars.
I landed on my feet and immediately fell forward, smacking my knees for a second time that day on the floor beneath the hay. Winded, I lay still and listened for Peter.
The corn kernels trickled to a halt. The barn was silent.
Pain shot through my ankles as I pulled myself slowly to my feet. If Peter came after me now, he’d have no trouble catching me. My ankles would give out in a chase.
I limped toward the barn door and yelped as an enormous form filled the doorway.
It was Peter.
I backed into the barn, whimpering.
He came after me.
“Jolene, it’s me. It’s Leslie.”
I squinted, trying to make out the color of the shirt. Even in the dim barn light and with my sore eyes, I could tell it was green. I let out a sob. “Peter tried to kill me.”
“I know. I’m so, so sorry. He’s not … quite well.” Leslie held out her hand to help me up. “Come on, let’s get you some air.”
Not quite well? Was that like a little bit pregnant? Her excuses sounded familiar, though I couldn’t say why.
I let her lead me out of the barn. My eyes closed involuntarily. The sun was too bright and they were too damaged.
“Stand right here. I’ll get some water to rinse your eyes.”
I waited for her, afraid when I no longer heard the noise of her footsteps and afraid when I did. My heart beat so loud I feared it would burst.
She touched my arm, making me jump. “Lean your head back and I’ll pour the water over your eyes. It will make it better.”
I did as she asked then felt like I was drowning when the water ran up my nose.
I pulled away, snorting.
She pressed a towel into my hands. “Here, Jolene. Just blot your eyes gently.”
When I finished, my eyes were still sore but I could see. Peter was lying crumpled by the barn entrance, a huge goose egg on his brow. A shovel lay abandoned on the ground next to him.
I backed away, pointing, my lips moving without sound.
Leslie glanced at him. “Don’t worry. He’s out cold.”
When I had last seen her, she was, too. Apparently, their large bodies could take quite an onslaught and still bounce back quickly.
She took a step in my direction and held out her hands, palms up. “I’m sorry he attacked you. He hates so much the idea of me becoming a woman.” She closed her eyes. “So much.”
When her eyes opened, I thought they looked desperate. She took another step toward me. “He goes to a psychiatrist about it. He can’t stand the thought of me … changing my body and leaving him. He despises anyone who provides me with any sort of support, including you, my psychiatrist, and my surgeon. I thought he was coming around, but …” Leslie heaved a sigh, the kind of sigh that says “I was so wrong. Don’t worry. I’ll see that he gets the proper care.”
I wasn’t worried. Within minutes, I planned to have Ray ensure Peter got the proper care, courtesy of the state of New York, for many years to come.
Peter’s eyelid twitched.
I backed toward the farmhouse door. “We need to call 911 right now. Right now, Leslie!”
“Okay, okay.” She glanced over her shoulder at him. “I just don’t want the police to hurt him.”
Was it my imagination or had Peter opened his eye and looked at us? I jumped back a foot, shaking my head.
Frankly I didn’t care if the police killed him, as long as they kept him away from me. “I’ll call Ray.”
I turned and ran for the house, yanking the door open then turning to lock it behind me, praying neither of them were carrying a key. Darting into the kitchen, I scanned the counters and the walls for the phone.
A white cordless hung on the far wall. I raced to it and dialed 911.
The operator answered. I stammered my name and the address of the Flynn farm. “Peter Flynn tried to kill me. I think he killed Jessica James. Can someone come right away?”
“Yes, ma’am. I’m sending a sheriff’s deputy now.”
“Send more than one. He’s a big man.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Can you call my husband, Ray Parker? He’s a deputy sheriff.”
“Yes, ma’am. I know your husband. I’ll call him now.”
The doorknob jiggled. Someone banged on the door. The glass broke.
My hands started to shake. “Hurry, hurry. He’s coming in the house.”
I dropped the phone and started pulling out drawers, looking for the Chinese meat cleaver. It was in the sink, with bits of chicken flesh still on it.
I wrapped my fingers around the handle and held on tight.
No one came inside the house.
Instead, I heard sounds of a struggle outside: metal clanging, grunting, feet scrambling for footholds in the gravel.
Creeping toward the door with cleaver in hand, I was ever so careful not to trip on the shoes and boots in the hallway. I looked through the hole in the glass.
Peter had a pitchfork. Leslie had the shovel. They were circling one another.
Peter spoke first. “Les, you don’t understand. Just let me go. I’ll leave town.”
“You can’t go. You need help.”
Peter’s face twisted in anguish. “It’s too late for that.”
Leslie shook her head. “It’s not too late. The doctor will help you.”
“You don’t understand.”
Leslie waved the shovel at him. “What don’t I understand?”
He jumped back seconds before she connected with his protruding stomach. “I killed a woman.”
Leslie took a few steps back. “Jolene is not dead. She’s in the house, calling the police.”
Peter started to cry, great heaving, blubbering sobs. “Not …
Jolene.”
Leslie’s shovel dropped a few inches. “Then who?”
“Jo … sie Mon … tal … vo.”
I could almost see the wheels turning in Leslie’s head. “That dancer from The Cat’s Meow? The one I read about in the paper? You said you didn’t know her. YOU TOLD ME you didn’t know her.”
Peter nodded, tears still streaming down his cheeks.
“WHY?”
Peter shook his head. “I don’t know. I don’t know.” His chest heaved as another sob burst from his lips.
Leslie lowered her shovel. “Put the pitchfork down, Peter. We’ll talk about it. Whatever happened, we can work it out. Together.”
“We can’t. We can’t. She’s dead. I killed her. I didn’t mean to … I mean, I didn’t want to.” He fell to his knees, the pitchfork lying useless beside him.
Leslie moved toward him. “Why did you kill her, Peter?”
“I thought she liked me. She slept with me. I gave her money, but she said I was special. I thought she might want to marry me. I didn’t want to be alone. You were leaving me.” Peter covered his face with his massive hands. “I told her about you. She listened. I thought she cared.”
Leslie moved a little closer. “Why did you kill her, Peter?”
Peter dropped his hands. He raised his tear-streaked face to Leslie’s. “I told her about you and how much I loved you and how much it hurt me that you didn’t want to be twins anymo
re.”
He gasped for breath. A moan followed.
I felt a chill run down my spine. He sounded like a wounded animal. I almost felt sorry for him. Almost.
“She laughed at me, Les. She laughed. She said, ‘What’s the big deal? Who cares? So what if your sister wants to … to get … to get … her … peter … whacked off?’”
With a heartbroken wail, he crumpled to the ground at Leslie’s feet.
Leslie knelt and gathered him in her arms.
As he sobbed into her chest, she smoothed his hair and murmured, “It’s okay. It’s okay. I’ll stay with you. Don’t worry, I’ll be right here. You’re my brother. I’ll take care of you.”
Then she lifted her gaze to mine and I knew what I had seen in her.
A little bit of me.
____
Gumby, Ray, and Tony , another officer, showed up minutes later, lights flashing. They got out of their respective cars, guns drawn, and looked at Peter and Leslie huddled in the driveway. By this time, the two of them didn’t look much like a threat. More like a meltdown.
Gumby took the precaution of kicking the pitchfork and shovel aside.
I dropped the Chinese cleaver, unlocked the door and stepped out.
Ray holstered his weapon as he strode over to me. “Are you all right?”
I nodded, more of a reflex than an actual response. I was alive. Numb, but alive.
He glanced at Leslie and her brother. “We’re arresting Peter, right?”
“Yes. He killed Josie Montalvo. They had a relationship of some kind.” Clearly, not the good kind. Not the healing kind.
Ray looked at the two brothers again. “Which one is Peter, for sure?”
I sighed. “The one in the blue shirt. The one without the veneers.” Without the boobs. Soon, without the brother.
Ray slid his cuffs off his belt. He walked over to Leslie and Peter. “We’re going to have to take Peter in, Leslie. Can you step back, please?”
Leslie let go of Peter and stood. Ray slapped the cuffs on Peter, who didn’t resist as Ray led him to Tony’s patrol car and put him in the back. Tony holstered his gun. He listened to Ray for a moment then climbed into the car. He turned his lights off and backed down the driveway.
Gumby approached Leslie. “We’re going to need a statement from you. Can you accompany me, please?”
Leslie glanced my way. She mouthed, “I’m so sorry.” Then she followed Gumby to his car. He turned off his lights and backed out.
Ray met me at the base of the steps. “What happened?”
I shook my head. Tears started to flow.
I pressed my forehead against his chest.
Without another word, his arms encircled me and held on tight.
____
Erica called at eight o’clock that night. I answered the phone, because Ray and Danny were in the middle of playing poker, a game I never understood. A flush, a straight. They sounded like plumbing issues. Ray and Danny were playing for M&Ms. Danny was winning. I’d have to cut off the game soon or the sugar and caffeine from the chocolate he was winning would keep him up all night.
“Can you pick me up tomorrow at eleven? Dr. Albert said he would be in to sign the release papers then.”
Just like Erica. No greeting. No apology. Just demands. It was okay with me, though. I’d missed her. “Sure. Doesn’t Maury want the honor?”
“He has to work. He has a new job, remember?”
“Oh, sure.” In floral delivery. I stifled a giggle. It wasn’t really funny that my sister had married a man who tried to woo every woman he met with roses. It certainly wouldn’t be too funny when she found out about it.
I sure wasn’t going to be the one to tell her.
“Can you help me clean out the apartment and move all our stuff to Wells Street?”
“Sure.”
“Tomorrow?”
“Sure.”
“Can I hang out with you the next couple days, until Maury has time off ?”
“Sure.”
“Can I have five hundred bucks?”
“No!”
“Just checking.” She hung up.
After we tucked Danny into bed, Ray led me into the bedroom. He closed the door and sat on the bed, patting the spot next to him.
I snuggled beside him. “What’s up?”
“Danny’s father is going to be released tomorrow. They’re not going to charge him with anything.”
“Does that mean Danny will be leaving us?” Leaving our home, leaving us, leaving me. I was so tired of everyone leaving me. My mom, my dad, Noelle, Erica, and now Danny. At least Erica would never leave me. She couldn’t afford to.
Ray entwined his fingers with mine. “I spoke to Social Services. With the house in Newark and the aunt’s cars, all Danny’s father needs is a job and he can have custody of Danny. He can get in touch with Social Services, and they will ask us to give Danny to him as soon as Mr. Phillips gets his first paycheck.”
I whispered, “I wasn’t too happy about taking Danny at first, but I’m going to miss him.”
“Me, too.” Ray kissed the back of my hand.
I tried not to think about having to say goodbye to Danny. Instead, I remembered Leslie’s face as she watched her brother taken away in handcuffs. It made me feel worse.
“What’s going to happen to Peter Flynn?”
“Leslie got him a lawyer. I think the lawyer will plead not guilty by reason of temporary insanity.”
“Do you think he’ll get off ?”
“It depends on the psychiatric evaluations, his attorney’s skill, the trial jury, and the alignment of the moon. I’m sure it doesn’t hurt that Peter was already seeing a shrink. But he did try to kill you in addition to Josie Montalvo. He won’t walk, but he might spend the rest of his days in a psychiatric facility.”
Let’s hope they didn’t put him in the same one Erica frequented. I would not care to run into him again.
“Did he say why he was driving around with Jessica’s arm in a cooler?”
“He found it in the back of the truck when he got home. It must have slid out of the bag, and he missed it in the dark. He planned to put it with the rest of her body after his psychiatrist appointment on Wednesday.”
Imagine his surprise when he came out of his appointment and found it missing. “Did he take Danny’s father’s car from The Cat’s Meow on purpose?”
“He said not. He was drunk and agitated to see Josie talking with another man when he thought he was her one and only. He sat right next to Danny’s father at the bar, and they had both laid their keys on it. He picked the wrong set up when he left the bar and was too far gone to notice.”
“When did he kill her?”
“Sunday night, same day Danny’s father took her Cadillac Escalade.”
Her death was too horrific to think about. It was one reason I couldn’t buy a temporary insanity plea. Peter Flynn had walked out of Jessica James apartment after choking her to death, grabbed the axe, and gone back inside to chop her up piece by piece and toss her remains into a garbage bag.
I pushed those images away and closed that mental drawer forever. “I wonder if Leslie will go ahead with her surgery.”
“I don’t know, Darlin’. If she truly thinks she’d be happier as a woman then she’ll have to, won’t she?”
I guessed so. But as much as I liked her, I wouldn’t be visiting her at the farm again to find out. In fact, her farm might very well be the first and last I ever set foot on. I certainly didn’t plan on ever eating corn again and I’d think twice about chicken, too.
Something else had been bothering me. “Did you notice the similarities between Leslie and her brother and Erica and me?”
Ray raised his eyebrow. “No. I don’t see any.”
I looked at him in shock. “You don’t? Leslie’s brother is mentally ill and causing trouble, my sister is mentally ill and causing trouble. Leslie’s caring for her brother. I’m caring for my sister.”
R
ay squeezed my hand. “Leslie is an enabler. You’re an enforcer.”
“A what?”
“An enforcer. Erica would have been a lot worse off without you. I don’t think we can say the same for Leslie and Peter. Leslie knew her brother had an alcohol problem. She knew her brother was driving without a license for years. She didn’t report him. She didn’t stop him.”
“Yes, let’s talk about that. How did all you big, bad deputy sheriffs miss him driving over the hills all these years?”
Ray grimaced. “Oh, sure, now it’s my fault. Let’s just say we missed it and leave it at that.”
“I suppose you’re right about Leslie. She even let him drive her truck around.” When the sheriff’s department returned to the farm with a search warrant, it hadn’t taken them long to ascertain that the axe in the bed of Leslie’s truck had been used to dismember Jessica James.
“But I don’t think Leslie would have ignored the facts that he shot at me or killed Jessica James if she had known.”
“She has been very cooperative … and supportive to her brother. It’s a fine line to walk.”
I knew all about that line. Erica had pilfered from convenience stores, taken money from her co-workers’ purses, and even driven the getaway car in a movie theater robbery. But that was before her medication got straightened out, before she grew up. Of course, she did “borrow” a car from my garage last year …
I hugged Ray’s arm and willed my worries away. “Yes, it is.”
Two weeks later Ray and I stood on our front porch with Danny as his father carried Danny’s new suitcase to the old gray Cavalier left to him by his aunt. The way the car bucked and snorted as it idled, I feared it might not make it back to Newark.
A foot of snow had blanketed the town last night. The air had chilled our cheeks red seconds after we stepped outside to say our final goodbyes.
I grabbed Danny’s jacket lapels and pulled them tighter around his neck. “Call us once in awhile and let us know how you’re doing. We want to hear from you.”
Danny nodded but didn’t meet my eyes.
I let go, thinking I was embarrassing him.