by Owen Thomas
“We’re here to cooperate, Detective. I don’t know why you’re so upset.”
“I’m very glad to hear the word cooperate. And if you really don’t know why I’m upset then you either have no idea what’s going on or you’re dumber than your client. Now somebody tell me what the fuck has happened to Brittany Kline.”
I look over at Lonnie, who is now busy taking notes. Or sketching the room or writing a letter to his fucking grandmother. I’m on my own.
I start with the part about the window screen leaning up against the house and I go on from there. North listens intensely. His eyebrows are dark, muscular worms furrowing off his forehead to meet at the bridge of his nose. He is predisposed to disbelieve everything I tell him. Every twist in the story hits him in the face like a dart and he maintains an air of barely contained incredulity. But he lets me talk.
For reasons I do not fully understand, the story leaps over and around what Brittany has told me about him, her Uncle Chuck. I leave out how much she hates him and her more inflammatory indictments of his character, such as his penchant for controlling others and his love of ABBA, which ties for first place with having carnal knowledge of his own sister. To tell him any of those things feels like a betrayal of Brittany’s trust, even though everything she said about him was almost certainly a lie just like everything else she told me. The feelings at least were real. If there is any bond at all between me and the little shit who is systematically deconstructing my life, it is our admiration for Amadeus Mozart and our seething dislike of Chuck North.
When I mention Richie, North looks over at Hooley who has looked up from his cup and the air in the room changes a little. There is a similar brightening of attention when I describe the diarrhea brown car, Ohio license G–. North jots down a couple of notes and asks some questions about make and model that I simply can’t answer. Two-door, four-door, I don’t know. All I remember is her face. Her wave. North tries to get something specific on the U-Haul or its driver, but I am not helpful on that score either.
For these few moments, we are almost working together to solve a problem. But the moment comes and goes. The lingerie and the booze and the condoms and the violin bring back the old vibe. He can’t help himself.
“What kind of idiot do you think I am, Dave?”
The answer occurs to me, but I keep it to myself.
“You expect me to believe this load of shit?”
“It’s the truth. You think I can actually make this stuff up? You saw the place.”
“Yeah, I saw the place. You forget that this is my niece we’re talking about. I know this kid. I know her really well. She doesn’t drink. She doesn’t do drugs. She doesn’t own a scrap of lingerie, nothing like the sleazy get-up you tried to get her into.”
“I did no such thing. It was hers. She brought it. And the booze.”
“That’s not the Brittany I know.”
“Maybe you don’t know her like you think you do. You read her diary.”
“Kid stuff. Teenage girl stuff. It showed she was vulnerable to cute teachers.”
“Look, she didn’t show up at Billy Rocks to play the violin. She wanted alcohol. She was carrying drugs. She wanted attention. Sexual attention.”
“She’s not some crack whore, Dave!” North pounds his fist on the table. Hooley and Lumkin straighten.
“I didn’t say she was a crack whore.”
“What other implication is there? You want me to believe that she broke into your home looking for drugs and money. You want me to believe that she was fully equipped with a box of condoms…”
“The condoms were mine.”
“Damn right they were yours. So was the merry-widow…”
“No.”
“…the crotchless panties, the kimono, the Wild Turkey…you fucking pervert.”
“No. All of that was hers. She brought it with her.”
“And you want me to believe this young girl, my niece, was ready to sell herself to get her fix.”
“Hold on. I never said she needed a fix. I never said she was an addict, I…”
“You claim that the drugs, and by drugs I mean marijuana, cocaine and ecstasy, belonged to her! Doesn’t that suggest to you a drug habit Mr. Johns? Isn’t that the story you’re trying to sell me?”
“I’m not selling a story. I don’t know whose drugs they were. DJ’s maybe. Or Richie’s. Or hers; yeah, they could’ve been hers. I only know they weren’t mine. But my point is that last night was about being in a jam and being desperate to get out. It wasn’t about needing a fix. She wasn’t high.”
“And you’d know all about that, wouldn’t you?”
“Enough to recognize it when I see it. She was sober. And I don’t think she had any intention of having sex. I think she thought she could seduce me out of some cash. Out of the drugs she thought I had. She said it was so DJ could pay off Richie. I got the impression quite a debt had accrued. Who the hell is Richie anyway?” Stupidly, I direct the question at Hooley, who gives me nothing.
“Hey, don’t ask us,” says North. “As far as I’m concerned, you’re DJ and you’re making Richie up. He’s just a name. He’s either made up out of whole cloth or he’s someone you’re in league with. Or a competitor. Maybe this is all a way that you can take out another player.”
“I’m not a player.”
“Dunno, Dave. You’re looking at time for felony possession. Narcotics just seem to drop out of the fuckin’ sky for you. People give you bundles of dope. Young girls are just begging you to take their ecstasy. That seems an awful lot like a player to me.”
“Now, Officer,” the strange voice, out of nowhere, is Lonnie’s. “We agreed that we were not going to get into matters that concerned the pending drug charges.”
North holds up a hand, waving him off.
“Let’s get back to the point, Dave. I think you’re full of shit. If last night happened the way you say it did you would have called 911 as soon as she hit the table. Or sooner; as soon as you saw someone in your hallway. Three little numbers. The phone is in your hand. 9-1-1. Ambulance shows up. Police show up. All problems for teacher Dave are solved.”
“She said she didn’t want a big scene. She said she wanted to deal with you and with her mom after she was cleaned up and out of the hospital. She didn’t want a medical emergency complicating things. She said her mom wouldn’t handle a hospital scene well because of her brother dying in a hospital after a car accident.”
“She never had a brother.”
“So you told me.”
“What, you don’t believe me? This is my sister’s kid. I would know.”
“I don’t know who to believe. Are you saying she’s a sweet, innocent kid who also happens to be an accomplished liar?”
“I hate to remind you that as far as I’m concerned, Dave, you’re the liar.”
“You think I’m making up the dead brother?”
“Like I said, she never had a brother. And what if it was true? What do you care why she doesn’t want you to call 911? You’re in this thing up to your neck. Why didn’t you call the police? If what you say is true, why didn’t you just call? Don’t answer. I’ll tell you why. Because you didn’t want the police.”
“Look. I didn’t like the way things looked. Okay? I didn’t like the way they looked for me. She’s got blood all over her face. The wound wouldn’t quit bleeding. Nothing in that scene made me look very good. I thought I could just take her to the Emergency Room, call you, call her mom, and work this through someplace other than the disaster zone. And her plan made sense. You were sure to over react…”
“I was going to over…”
“Yes. You were going to over-react and it would be traumatic for her mom. That’s what she thought. She wanted to control the situation and that sounded like a good idea to me. Although now I know she was just trying to get outside so she could ditch me for whoever was waiting for her.”
“But you went along with it because you didn’t like they w
ay things looked.”
“Yeah, because of the way things looked and because I believed her. It just made more sense at the time. That and…”
I don’t want to tell him the other thing. I don’t know how it cuts, for me or against me. But I see from his face that it’s too late. He has seen that there is something else. I think of asking to speak with my lawyer, who knows nothing of this.
“And? And what Dave? Let’s hear it.”
I look at Lonnie. He is at least looking back this time; but he has the placid expression of an observer. He’s at the movies. He can’t wait to see how all of this turns out. I look back at North.
“Dave?”
“She … she said that if an ambulance came they would want to, you know…”
“What.”
“Check for signs of sexual activity.”
There is a strange stillness that comes over North as a pinkish tide rises up his neck and into his cheeks and the lobes of his ears.
“And why, exactly, would that concern you?” The words fall from his mouth and land on the table like chunks of broken granite. Lonnie leans forward, needing popcorn.
“Because… because if she had been sexually active, you know, recently, I didn’t want to be blamed for it. I didn’t want… I’m already in enough fucking trouble, okay? All because of half-truths and misunderstandings. None of this is based on anything real.”
“Save it for the jury. More about the test.”
“She said you’d insist on it; that it was standard procedure.”
“You’re goddamned right I would have insisted on it. So let me get this straight. The reason…”
“One of the reasons.”
“One of the reasons … fine, one of the reasons that you didn’t call the police was that you were concerned she would be given a rape exam and that you’d be accused.”
“Yes.”
“You’re concerned about a positive.”
“A positive?”
“A positive test result. Positive for rape.”
“Oh. Yes.”
“What makes you think this young, sixteen-year old girl is even sexually active?”
“I don’t know that. I just thought it was a possibility.”
“With who? Besides you, I mean.”
“Not me. Not me.”
“Who?”
“DJ. She said she was having sex with DJ. She said she needed my condoms.”
“Your condoms.”
“Yes.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“It’s the truth.”
“And you thought that she would identify you – falsely identify you – as a rapist.”
“I thought it was possible. Yes.”
“Why?”
“I think she was the one who vandalized my car. Using that very word. Rapist.”
“Did she say she vandalized your car?”
“Of course not.”
“Well…”
“I asked her and she said she didn’t know anything about it.”
“Okay.”
“But I think she was lying.”
“Oh, I see. Suddenly, when it’s convenient, you can tell when she’s lying to you.”
“She seemed like she knew something about my car.”
“And that made you think she would lie…”
“Yes.”
“About you having sex with her?”
“Yes.”
“Anything else?”
“She said that she had had experience with a rape exam once before and when I asked her why she said that she wasn’t really raped but that people thought she had been because of something she said. She gave the name of a doctor. I don’t remember the name. I just didn’t want to be the next guy.”
“And you thought she was, what, threatening you or something?”
“Yes. Or at least it was a possibility I wanted to avoid. I decided it wouldn’t be smart to back her into a corner. She really didn’t want to go to the hospital. And if she had to go to the hospital, she wanted it to be for a simple head wound and she wanted me to take her. She didn’t want the stirrups. She seemed convinced that the stirrups would be automatic if I called the police. She had a strong preference.”
“Don’t make this about her preference, okay? This was all about protecting your own ass. You were the one who didn’t want the exam. You, Dave.”
“It was mutual. Look, it just seemed better all the way around if I did what she asked. Took her to the emergency room, got her stitched up, cleaned up and then dealt with the rest. Are you saying it’s not true?”
“What?”
“The exam. Dr. Whatshisname.”
Chuck leaned into the table. “In this room, Dave, I ask the questions.”
“I’ll take that as a yes. She was telling the truth then. She’s falsely accused someone before, hasn’t she? She’s got a history with this. And you think I’m crazy to be careful? Crazy for doing what she wanted?”
“You’re way off, Dave.”
“Am I?”
“Yes. You are. Brittany doesn’t lie when it comes to that kind of thing. Not to me she doesn’t. She tells me something like that? I believe her.”
“So… she has told you something like that. And you believed her.”
“She knows she can trust me. That’s all I’m saying. This is none of your fucking business. Stop trying to change the subject.”
“I’m not changing anything,” I bark at him, hardly believing the sound of my own voice. “The subject is Brittany and all I’m saying is that you’re the one she was afraid would turn an accident into a violent crime scene. She sought me out. You’re the one she didn’t want to see.”
“Me?”
“Yes. You. You’re about the last person she wanted to see.”
“Oh really. And why do you think that is?”
“Just guessing, but I think it’s because you like to play the disciplinarian. She doesn’t have any control over her own life when you’re around.”
North rolls his eyes and looks over at Hooley who laughs to himself.
“Hey, fine, you’re right. It’s none of my business. You asked.”
“No. No, Dr. Dave. Please. Tell me more.”
“This kid is messed up. Whatever she’s going through right now is probably complicated and delicate and she knows from experience that you’re going to take charge and handle the situation with all the tact and sensitivity of a front-end loader. And she knew you’d make her take the test. She didn’t want the test. I think she’d rather die. I …”
“What.”
“I think she’d rather have her real dad around.”
North just looks at me.
“What the fuck do know about her father?”
“Nothing.”
“What’d she say?”
“Nothing. That he’s with the FBI. That he’s in New York.”
“The FBI. That’s rich. What else?”
“Nothing.”
I want to draw him a map of the law enforcement hierarchy. I want him to know that his niece has spotted the chip on his shoulder from a mile away. But again, there is a strange loyalty in me that keeps me from ratting her out. So I keep it to myself.
“I’m thinking that maybe there’s a healthy rivalry between you two about who’s actually keeping America the safest.”
North pauses, sitting back. Collecting himself. Flexing his hands. Telling himself to cool off. To not take the bait.
“Listen to me. Desmond … Dipshit Desmond Kline, is a mailman. Okay. He’s not with the FBI. The FBI? Are you fucking kidding me? She told you that?”
“Yes.”
“He’s a fucking mailman, Dave.”
“Well how am I supposed to know? She said he …”
“He’s a bum. A philandering alcoholic is what he is. I’m twice the father he ever was to her. From the beginning. Twice the father; twice the man. I ran that miserable fuck out of town on a rail. He’s walkin’ the cold s
treets of Buffalo stickin’ bills in people’s mailboxes and drinking his paychecks. Any idea how much money he owes my sister?”
“I have no idea.”
“A lot.”
“If you say so.”
“I do.”
“Fine.”
“The guy is scum.”
“Fine. Whatever, man. I’m glad to see you don’t feel threatened by him. What do you want from me?”
“What do I want from you? The truth, DJ. I want the goddamned truth. I want you to drop all of the bullshit and tell me where I can find my niece.”
“I’ve told you the truth. I’ve told you everything.”
“Really. Everything.”
“Yes.”
“You left out the part about kissing her on the driveway.”
“I wasn’t kissing her. She was kissing me.”
“Well now there’s a distinction worthy of Bill Clinton. You going to tell me that it depends on what the fucking definition of is is?”
“You know what I mean.”
“I have no idea what you mean. But if you’re trying to tell me that my sixteen-year old niece, bleeding profusely from the head and face as you dragged her against her will across the driveway to your car, was suddenly overcome with a desire to make out with you, then I’m not buying it.”
“What makes you think I would pick that particular moment, as my neighbor looks on, to make out with your niece? Doesn’t that strike you as unbelievably stupid?”
“Yes. But this is you we’re talking about here, DJ.”
“I’m not DJ.”
“I think you didn’t expect your neighbor out there on his driveway. She’s bleeding and you’re concerned that this looks like you’ve beaten her up which, of course, is exactly what happened, but you don’t want Karl to go to bed with that image in his head. So, yes, stupidly, you try to put on a show. Just a little boo boo. No one is hurt. See us kissing? No worries. We love each other. See Karl? See?”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“I never said it was smart. Karl sure didn’t buy it.”
“That’s not what happened. She was kissing me. Do you understand what I’m telling you? She kissed me. Just like at Billy Rocks. She kissed me!”