Perdition

by R. Jean Reid

  “Doug, this is Nell McGraw.”

  “Nell, I was just thinking about you.” There was a hint of flirting in his voice.

  “Good.” Nell returned his flirtatious tone. “I was just thinking about you. And the arrest of Ronald Hebert.”

  “Isn’t that over?” The flirting disappeared.

  “Over?”

  “With him being dead. There won’t be a trial or anything.”

  “What if he didn’t do it? Would it still be ‘over’ in your mind?” Nell asked.

  “You’re going to be a reporter, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, I’m afraid I am. What if Ronald was innocent?” she pushed.

  “You’ve been listening to the sheriff, haven’t you?” Doug’s voice was easy, but Nell caught the gibe underneath it.

  “What corners did you cut? Off the record,” she added, because she knew he would never say it on the record and she didn’t want to waste time negotiating it.

  The chief was silent. Nell heard the sounds of traffic and realized he was in his car. Finally he said, “The obvious ones. Ronald Hebert was arrested over in New Orleans for being a little too frisky one Mardi Gras—with another man in a public place. Someone called in the license plate number of his car out in the park when Joey Sayton was killed. That’s not really enough for a warrant, but I got one anyway.”

  “Why? Just his car and being gay?”

  “Really, just the car. Some hunch—his car being out of place enough for someone to notice it at a murder scene.” He quickly added, “But the hunch paid off, remember. We found enough to put him on death row.”

  “You found the evidence at his house? What did you find?”

  “We’re examining it. Don’t want to reveal it just yet. And yes, in his back bedroom, in a closet. Not very well hidden at all.”

  “Easy to find, in other words. Or easy for someone to plant there?”

  “What are you hinting at, Nell?”

  “How hard was it for the police to force their way into Ronald Hebert’s house?”

  “This isn’t a town that needs fifty padlocks on the door. I don’t really remember. It took a few minutes.”

  “Have you found any forensic evidence to actually link Hebert to the crime scenes?”

  “You’re really going to push this, aren’t you, Nell? The guy’s dead and the murders have stopped.”

  “Marion Nash was murdered after Hebert’s supposed suicide.”

  “But there’s no link there. Hers was one of the stupid sex crimes that happens more often than they should.”

  Nell hesitated. Someone needed to know about the evidence linking Marion’s death to that of the children. Douglas Shaun was new here, less likely to know about the bayou and the well in the woods. She would have to trust some man in uniform. He seemed the safest candidate.

  “Rayburn Gautier turned in a library book with some rather provocative crayon drawings in it,” she began. “Ones that might be linked to his murder. Marion Nash told someone about it, probably someone at the sheriff’s department. The next day, she was murdered. I have my hunches, too, Doug. And my hunch says that coincidences like that aren’t likely.”

  “But they do happen,” he countered.

  “And how hard would it have been for the murderer to set up Hebert? What if he’s in law enforcement? Who tipped you off about his car?”

  “I can’t really say …”

  Nell cut in. “Can’t say because you don’t want to or because it was an anonymous call?”

  “Okay, it was anonymous. But this seems so farfetched. Why would someone go to all this trouble?”

  “If the crime is considered solved, the real killer gets away.”

  “You really think that’s possible?”

  “I do,” Nell replied. “And you don’t have to agree with me, but at least keep an open enough mind to consider the possibility.”

  “I’ll consider it.” Doug Shaun paused and added, “But only if you consider having dinner with me.”

  “I was hoping my theory was so compelling you wouldn’t need bribes. But yes, I’ll consider having dinner with you. I can’t tonight, though.”

  The chief didn’t ask why she couldn’t, which Nell liked. He didn’t assume he had any special access to her life.

  “How about Saturday?” he suggested. “That give you enough time to make arrangements for your kids?”

  “Saturday sounds good. But let me make sure I can set things up before I commit.”

  “Okay,” he said. But then, as if he couldn’t quite let it go, he softly added, “Nell, what if Marion really did just have a lonely night, picked some guy up, and things took a wrong turn?”

  Nell thought a moment before answering, then decided that the chief of police needed this information. “Marion was a lesbian and not very likely to pick up any man.”

  He was silent. Then said, “Are you sure?”

  “As sure as I can be short of actually sleeping with her.”

  “How did you find that out?”

  Now it was Nell’s turn to hesitate. Finally she said, “I’d rather not say. I will if I have to, but I saw what happened to Jacko and I don’t want it to happen again without some compelling reason.” She glanced at the clock. It was time to collect Josh and go talk to Kate. She felt protective of the woman and wasn’t yet willing to turn her over to the questioning of the police. Or do I just want to be the one to ask her the questions? she wondered. She concluded that whatever her reasons were, she did need to talk to Kate first before revealing anything more.

  “Nell, this is a murder case,” Doug Shaun reminded her. “Don’t withhold evidence.”

  “The only evidence that’ll be withheld is the evidence you miss because you were looking in the wrong direction. If you’re going to insist that Marion’s murder was a random sex crime, what good will it do to drag even more of her sex life into public view?” Nell countered.

  There was silence on the chief’s end for a long moment before he finally answered. “If you’ve got proof of this, I’m going to need it sooner than later. Understood?”

  “What I have may not stand up as ‘proof’ in a court. Keep that in mind,” Nell hedged. If Kate decided not to cooperate and keep Marion’s secret, Nell doubted there was much she could do. For a moment she wondered if she should have even told Doug Shaun, but decided that if it got him to re-examine Marion’s murder, it would be worth it. “I have to go pick up Josh. I’ll talk to you later.”

  “Later then. Don’t forget about Saturday.” His line went dead.

  Doug Shaun wasn’t a man to let her get in the last word. Which wasn’t a point in his favor. Or maybe I’m reading too much into it, Nell thought. Maybe he has other phone calls or noticed someone going over the speed limit. She suddenly thought, oh please, tell me that I don’t have to go through this adolescent craziness just to date a man. And then she thought, it’s not fair. I did go through it. I found Thom, someone to love and hold and grow old with. And now I’m a not-so-young woman worrying about the meaning of how quickly a man hangs up the phone.

  Hell, time to be a mother. Nell straightened her desk hastily and headed for the door. While she’d been talking to Doug, Josh had texted her to pick him up early since it was a half-day at school. He was down at the harbor doing a field trip ecology thing. Nell felt guilty for not knowing exactly what she was picking him up from; I only have two children, I should be able to keep track of their lives. How did someone like Velma Gautier manage, with her eight kids? But Rayburn was dead and she only had seven. Nell suddenly had a fierce moment when she could see briefly into another life—the child that was lost would weigh more than the others that were still there and okay. What would her life be if she lost Josh or Lizzie? Nell sat in her car, the key almost in the ignition. Grief shuddered through her. Thom was gone, and Velma Gautier had lost
a son who read the same kinds of picture books that Josh read at that age.

  Nell started the car and vowed that she would be a better mother; she wouldn’t wonder what it was her children were involved in, but would know. Great, she thought as she headed out of the parking lot; I’ll turn into the Mother Inquisitor, questioning my children relentlessly about their lives. Maybe Josh didn’t tell me much about this harbor project because it’s time for him to separate from me and find his independence. Maybe there is no perfect way to be a perfect mother. Mrs. Thomas, Sr. had her son return to the town he’d grown up in, a small town on the Gulf of Mexico, and still she couldn’t keep him safe from the weavings of a drunken driver.

  Nell found no answers to her mothering dilemma, but she did find her son. An odd relief washed over her as she spied Josh standing among the other members of the class. She pulled to the side of the road but didn’t immediately get out—Josh knew she was here, he didn’t really need his mother coming down to retrieve him. The group seemed to be enjoying the camaraderie of the project and the place, and Nell wanted them to have their moment. But then other parents arrived and the mood was broken. The children trailed off, some in tow of mothers, others called to waiting cars. Josh lingered a moment, helping one of the sponsoring teachers … Mrs. Harvey? He put some nets and buckets in the trunk of her car.

  “How many dead catfish did you find?” Nell asked as he got in.

  “Only three, probably from the shrimp boats,” Josh answered seriously, not expecting his mother as ask the joking questions his father would have.

  “Should we do a story on illegal catfish dumping?” Nell asked, mirroring his serious tone.

  “Or they could have washed up. I don’t think it’s front page news,” Josh replied. “Maybe just the metro section.”

  That was something Thom used to say. Nell turned away to start the car, but also to cover the mist that came into her eyes at the way Josh had caught his father’s cadences of speech. And for a moment, they’d kidded the way he and Thom used to kid, with that mock seriousness. It’s been months since I’ve heard my son say something like this, Nell thought.

  “The bad news is that we have to go by the bike shop on our way home,” Nell said.

  “But isn’t it closed still?” Josh answered, although he clearly didn’t think this was bad news.

  “Probably, but I wanted to talk to Kate about something and she agreed to meet me there. I did warn her that I’d have you with me.”

  “Like I’m some big burden,” Josh groused. “What do you need to talk to Kate about?”

  It was a casual question, an acknowledgment that Nell stopping by the bike shop was not the norm, but only mildly curious about why she wanted to see Kate. “Some ad stuff she wanted in the paper,” Nell threw off. It wasn’t a complete lie; the bike shop did advertise in the Crier. “Tell me more about what it is the biology club is doing at the harbor.”

  Nell spent the drive to the bike shop listening to Josh explain how they were sampling water from different parts of the harbor and what they were looking for in those samples and how they were going to use the school lab to measure things.

  The bike shop did have a closed sign on the door, but lights were on. When she tried it, the door was still open. Kate was behind the counter, finishing up paperwork. She glanced up as Josh and Nell entered.

  “Hey, Josh. Just the person I need to see.” Kate’s smile was in place and her tone cheery, but Nell noted the dark circles under her eyes. “I’ve got a bike that I just assembled and it needs a test ride.”

  “Oh, boy, which one?” Josh answered excitedly.

  In reply, Kate wheeled a shiny red and gold bike from the workshop. She and Josh launched into a discussion of components and other arcane bike lore that meant little to Nell. She gave Josh one of the helmets that were kept around for people to use when trying out bikes and sent him on his way.

  “Don’t have a wreck,” Nell called as he was maneuvering out the door.

  “Oh, Mom, I don’t have wrecks,” he said, taking her more seriously than she’d meant. “Don’t worry. I’ll be gone long enough for you to talk all you want about ads.”

  Neither Kate or Nell said anything until Josh was out of sight.

  Nell finally turned to her and said, “Think he’ll be back anytime soon?”

  Kate shrugged. “He’s welcome to come back later this afternoon and help me out if he’d like. Now, we’re supposed to talk about ads?”

  “He wanted to know why I would come by the shop,” Nell explained.

  Kate just nodded and then said with a bitter smile, “Does the Crier give discounts to widows?”

  Nell remembered the brittle anger she still felt from Thom’s death, how it came out as if it had a will of its own.

  “I’m sorry,” Kate said. “There aren’t many people that know, that I can even say things … like that to.” She gave Nell no time to respond to her apology and continued, “So, Nell McGraw. You said you have questions for me?

  “You know you don’t have to answer. I don’t really have a right to pry into your life,” Nell told her.

  “No, you don’t have a right,” Kate coolly agreed. Then she softly added, “But your prying … is better than silence.”

  Nell nodded understanding, then asked her first question. “Where did you and Marion meet?”

  “Did Josh tell you I used to be a forest ranger?” Kate asked. Then she continued without waiting for an answer. “Marion liked the outdoors, hiking or camping most every weekend. We ran into each other a couple of times. Shared nothing more than a questioning glance when I handed her a trail map, until one day she asked me when the next nature hike was. I told her one was about to start and she asked if I was leading it. I told her no, that I’d be doing a later one. She looked at me and simply said, ‘I’ll wait.’ After the hike, she remained behind and asked me if I’d like to get some coffee after work.”

  “Where was this?”

  “She was finishing her master’s at the University of Washington. I was working at Cascades Park. And … that coffee led to dinner … and dinner led to … falling in love.” Kate spoke slowly, caught in the memories.

  “How long were you together?”

  “I guess … about eight years.”

  “And you’ve been living here for, what, about … two years?” Nell had to do a quick mental calculation. Kate had cared for Toby for at least six months before his death.

  “One year and eight months,” Kate answered. She was silent for a moment, then said, “At first it was odd, our Gulf Coast connection. That she grew up over in Ocean Springs and her parents retired here, and Uncle Toby lived about twenty blocks away from them. But … then I started getting the letters from him. I guess he thought that since I was queer, I could be the one he told, and I got to tell the rest of the family.”

  “That he had AIDS?” Nell ventured.

  “First just HIV. He either knew or suspected that it had progressed to AIDS, and I think he just said it to see how we’d react.”

  “And how did you react?”

  “I’d had friends with HIV. But closer to my age, doing well on the meds. Toby was resistant to most of them. It was … different to find that my southern uncle was one of them. That he was gay was the open family secret, but when he got sick, we had to talk about the secret that no one wanted to talk about. My dad, Toby’s brother, just went silent. He’d leave the room if I mentioned I’d gotten another letter and Toby was going to try another combination of drugs because the ones he was on weren’t working.”

  “That must have been hard for you.”

  “My mother kept saying that blood was thicker than water and Dad would come through … but he never did. The most involved he got was insisting that Uncle Toby’s death was from cancer, that he didn’t want AIDS in the paper. We compromised on pneumonia. He tried to bully Dr.
Wilcox into not putting it on the death certificate.”

  “Why did you stay here after his death?” Nell gently asked.

  “To piss off my dad,” Kate answered, her anger still present. “Not really. Although it did, and I enjoyed doing it. Guess I’m not exactly the dutiful daughter. I’d brought us here—Marion wasn’t sure she wanted to come back, but I knew that if I didn’t take care of Toby, it would only be strangers. When we were thinking about it, I was just going to live here long enough to see him through. Marion had tried to come out to her mother a few years earlier, but it was like she’d never said anything. So, since we were planning on maybe being here six months, Marion decided she wasn’t going to be an out lesbian in her mother’s hometown. Right before Uncle Toby died, Mrs. Nash had her stroke. And Marion got caught in the dutiful daughter role.”

  “So Marion didn’t tell her mother about you?”

  “And risk giving her another stoke?” Kate answered sardonically. “Marion told her that she was a lesbian and the next day her mother asked her if she might meet a nice man and settle down in Pelican Bay. Don’t talk about it, it doesn’t exist.”

  “Who did know?”

  “Here? In Seattle, we were out, so everyone knew there. But only a few select friends here. We … weren’t planning to stay in town, so we didn’t go out of our way to find a circle. It was just supposed to be a detour—we would spend a year here and then go back to the Northwest. One of those side trips that life requires from you, but we’d be able to go on with all our plans …” Kate was silent.

  Nell waited for her to continue, but she didn’t. Finally Nell prompted her with a question. “What time did Marion come over that night?”

  “I guess around 6:30. I’d promised her I’d cook dinner if she could spend the evening with me.”

  “Was that hard for her to do?”

  “Her mother … made it a point to need Marion whenever she tried to spend time with friends who were women … and she didn’t want to claim she was going out with a male friend or her mother would be planning the wedding. So, she had to tell that lie for us to be together.”