Karen didn’t cry, but she would when we left. I wished I could spare her, but there wasn’t any way around it. “So if she’d bitten his hand, for example, there wasn’t any evidence the killer was wearing anything on his hand.”
“No,” said Karen, shaking her head definitively. “No, nothing.”
“Thanks,” I told her. “That’s all I needed to know. I hope I never have to bother you again, Karen. Please accept my condolences again, and if it’s up to me, I’ll leave you completely alone from now on.”
“It’s okay, Aaron,” she told me. “I didn’t mind the questions. It’s the memories I wish I could erase.”
I nodded. We stood and walked to the front door, where I knew Big would be waiting. Karen said goodbye to Ethan, and closed the door behind us.
I pulled Ethan to one side as we started for the van. “How did his face look when we pulled up here?” I asked.
“Whose face?” Asperger kids aren’t necessarily the best lookouts.
“Kevin’s face. I told you to watch him while we were pulling up.”
“Oh,” said my son. “Is that what you meant? I thought I had something on my cheek.” Okay, so you can’t get every clue.
As we walked back to the minivan, where Big was serenely seated in the second seat, I looked over at Kevin, who was gazing at the house behind him, a dim look on his face.
“Gloves are for pussies,” I told him.
Chapter Eighteen
Ethan blankly stared at Kevin Fowler the whole way back to his family’s home. No Asperger parent is flawless, and I’m not even in the top fifty percent. All I could think was, “Now he’s watching the face.”
Mary flung the door open wide before we made it up the stairs. “Kevin!” she shouted. “You came home for Christmas!”
Justin, face wary and anxious, stood behind her, and his gaze never left his brother. To Justin, no one else was standing on the steps at that moment.
From his mother’s point of view, however, a giant faux pas had been committed, and she had to correct it. “Oh Aaron, I’m so sorry,” she said. “I didn’t even acknowledge you and Ethan. We’re so glad you’re here.”
“I don’t know if you’ll be in a few minutes, Mary,” I said. “May we come in and sit down? I’m afraid we have something important to discuss.”
She glanced worriedly at Kevin as we came in. Big, of course, had made himself scarce outside the house, but she could still tell something was up. And I’d have been amazed if Big wasn’t somewhere very close, where he could hear what was being said. I wasn’t crazy about Ethan being in this environment, but I knew Big wouldn’t present a danger, and would probably move to protect Ethan if trouble erupted.
Probably.
We sat in the living room, and even when Ethan tried to interest Justin in one television show or another in his own room, Justin would not be moved. I’d have to play out the scene with the whole family present.
“Mary, we found Kevin at the house of his friend, John Mahovic, at the address you gave me. He’s been there all this time.”
Mary’s eyes narrowed. “You mean since he got back from Indiana?”
I gave Kevin an “am-I-going-to-tell-her-or-are-you?” look, but he didn’t blink, and he didn’t take his eyes off the floor in front of his chair. I inhaled heavily.
“He never was in Indiana, Mary. Kevin’s been lying to you about that for two and a half years.”
It took a moment to sink in, but then Mary appeared to be physically hurt, as if she’d been struck with something in her midsection. She winced and put her hands on her stomach. She actually moved back a couple of inches on her seat, and closed her eyes.
“Mary, are you okay?” I said. Kevin didn’t move a muscle, and continued to stare at the floor.
“Deep in my heart, I knew it,” she said. “I knew you didn’t get in to the university. Did you, Kevin?” He didn’t respond, and she lifted her head and injected a commanding tone into her voice. “Did you?” He shook his head miserably.
“Where have you been all this time?” his mother asked.
It took Kevin a long time to answer. “I’ve been . . . here . . . in Jersey . . . living in an apartment in Totowa.”
I didn’t have to ask any of the basic questions. Mary was going to take care of that for me. “You were living in Totowa and you didn’t even let me know?” she said, controlling her voice as best she could. Justin looked absolutely dumbfounded. Kevin nodded again. “Why?”
“Because I knew you wouldn’t like it, and you’d make me apply to colleges again.”
“You need an education. How are you going to make a living without an education?” Mary’s hands went to her face as the truth came crashing down on her.
Kevin’s head snapped up, his face red. This was the conversation he’d been having in his head for two years—the reason he’d never told his mother what she’d probably suspected from the beginning. He reached into the pocket of his leather jacket and pulled out a wallet, which he fanned in his mother’s direction. It was stuffed with bills.
“I’ve been making a living, Ma!” he shouted. “You want to see? I’ve been making lots of money. How do you think your precious Justin got out of jail? Huh? Where do you think the two hundred grand came from?”
Well, that was something I hadn’t expected, and Mary herself was dumbstruck. Justin, having been mentioned in the conversation, suddenly became attentive, and he looked at his brother with wide eyes.
“You mean you paid for me to get out of jail?” he asked Kevin. “Really? I didn’t think you liked me that much.”
Kevin, impressed with the level of authority he’d gained by being loud and abrasive, decided to continue being both. “I don’t!” he shouted. “I’ve never liked you! Everybody always had to tippy-toe around you. ‘Oh, don’t say that, it’ll upset Justin’ Or ‘We can’t go to that restaurant. They don’t have anything Justin will eat.’ Or ‘You can’t go out for the football team, Kevin—I have to work and there won’t be anybody to watch Justin.’ You were eighteen years old and we couldn’t leave you in the house by yourself! Jesus Christ, Justin. I’ve never liked you!”
Suddenly thrust into a Eugene O’Neill play, I was at something of a loss for the proper reaction. I was more at home in situations out of, say, Neil Simon.
Justin looked positively baffled. It wasn’t that he was sad or upset because his brother didn’t like him—it was more that his perception of his family had been changed, and he didn’t know how to react to it.
His mother did. “You take that back!” she shouted. “It’s a lie! I remember when you two used to play together and laugh and giggle all day long.” She put her head down, and I felt even worse about setting up this situation than I had before. It was time to press the issue at hand.
“Was that why you set Justin up for Michael Huston’s murder?” I asked Kevin. “Because you resented the attention he got?”
Kevin’s reaction stopped and started a couple of times. “I didn’t set anybody up for anything,” he said. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Yes, you do,” I said. “You put the deringer in the bottom of that grandfather clock”—I pointed—” because you knew your brother would look there. You made sure he knew who’d put it there, because only you and he knew it was used as a hiding place. And when he found the gun there, and the police told him it had been used in a murder, Justin knew exactly what you had done, and he covered up for you. Didn’t you, Justin?”
Justin, his world not so much rocked as slightly vibrated, held fast to his prior statements. “No,” he said, shaking his head. “I shot Mr. Huston. I did it.”
“Fine. Why?”
“Because . . . because . . . Justin never did answer the question, but his meaningful gaze was straight and sure, and directed at his brother. He might just as well have said: “Kevin, what am I supposed to say?”
“You’re crazy,” Kevin said, directing his comment at me. “I didn’t shoo
t anybody, and I never had a gun, especially not some old antique gun like that.”
“Oh, really?” I was ready for this. I pulled the cell phone out of my pocket and dialed. “Hello?” I said. “Mr. Mitchell? Ted Mitchell of Brunswick Sporting Goods?”
Justin’s head snapped to attention, and Kevin stared at me, startled. He must have been just as startled as Leah, whose voice echoed through my cell phone, saying, “Daddy? Is that you?”
“Mr. Mitchell, this is Aaron Tucker. I know you don’t want to betray any confidences, but Justin’s life is on the line here, and he needs your help no matter how many times he’s told you not to talk,” I continued. “You have to help me help Justin, so tell me: It was his brother Kevin who was asking about the deringer, wasn’t it? And you told him to go buy one at a gun show out of state, because it couldn’t get traced? You never handled the gun yourself, did you?” I paused. “That’s what I thought.”
“He’s lying!” Kevin leapt to his feet. “He got me the gun himself! He just didn’t want anyone to know because it was illegal!”
“Should I get Mommy?” Leah asked.
“No,” I told the phone. “Thanks for your help.” And I turned it off even as Kevin was grabbing for it.
Once Kevin made his move toward me, the front door flew open and Big rushed in, grabbed Kevin, and pushed him out of the way. Big held him down on the rug, a grim expression on his face.
“Don’t do anything stupid,” he told Kevin. “At least, don’t do anything else stupid.”
Mary Fowler stared at Big and stood up slowly, her mouth agape. “Duane,” she said. “Duane Porter. Is that you?”
Big pulled Kevin to his feet and gave Mary a look of embarrassment. “Yes, ma’am,” he said. “Sorry about your door, Mrs. Fowler.”
Chapter Nineteen
“Duane?” I said to Big. “Your name is Duane?”
“You got a problem with that?”
Ethan stood up and reached out a hand. “Hi, Duane,” he said. “I’m Ethan.” Social skills groups—you can’t beat ‘em.
Big took his hand. “Hi, Ethan.” He held Kevin down with the other.
“You’re not going anywhere,” he said to Kevin.
“Duane?”
Mary stood up. “I don’t understand. What are you doing here?” she asked Big.
For the first time since I’d met him, Big seemed absolutely cowed. He didn’t want to look Mary in the eyes, and he didn’t say anything.
“Let me see if I’ve got all this straight,” I said. “You two”—indicating Big and Kevin—“know each other a long time, right?”
Big nodded. “High school,” he said.
“So you”—indicating Mary—“know Duane here as a friend of your son, right?”
Mary, mesmerized, nodded.
“Okay, I think I’ve got it. Duane here gets out of school and decides maybe Harvard isn’t for him, so he pulls in a couple of old connections, and gets himself a job working for—”
Big cut me off. “No names, please.”
I nodded, in deference to Mary. Kevin struggled under the weight of Big’s knee, which was on the side of his face, holding him to the floor. “Right,” I said. “A job working for a businessman with rumored connections to unsavory characters.”
“Well put,” said Big.
“I use words for a living,” I reminded him.
But Ethan couldn’t leave it alone. “You mean gangsters?” he said.
I chose to ignore him, but noticed that Justin’s eyes widened once Ethan had clarified the situation for him. Mary, too, wasn’t looking exactly pleased.
“So,” I continued, “Duane here is performing whatever services are asked of him, and I’m willing to bet he’s performing them quite well.” I looked at Big, and he smiled.
“One does what one can,” he said.
“And when Kevin, who doesn’t want to go to college, gets out of school—what, a year or two later?—he talks to his pal Duane about a similar position.”
Mary sat down hard on the overstuffed chair, not wanting to believe what she believed. “Kevin! Is it true? You’re working for criminals?”
Big looked at Kevin’s face and let him up off the floor, knowing his mother’s horror had knocked the violence out of him. Kevin stood, but didn’t look Mary directly in the eye.
“I’m not . . . I didn’t . . . You don’t understand, Ma. I made all this money . . . But Mary did understand, all too well, and her hand went to her mouth. I hadn’t exactly delivered a Christmas present to her, and it was going to get worse.
“And then what?” I said. “I don’t understand what happened with Michael Huston. Did your . . . employer . . . order you to do what you did?”
Big shook his head. “No. We’ve been looking for him since then. Nobody had any beef against this Huston guy. In fact, the first I heard of him was when he was dead.”
“I didn’t . . . Kevin tried, but it was too lame. “You have no proof.”
“You bought the gun and you hid it here in the clock, where Justin found it. Its trigger is too small for heavy winter gloves, so the killer’s hands were bare. You don’t wear gloves, even in the coldest weather.” For Mary’s sake, I didn’t reiterate his slogan about protective hand wear. “Karen Huston’s dog came back to the house with blood on her mouth, and you have a bandage on your left hand, the one that wouldn’t have been holding the gun.”
“The dog never bit me,” Kevin said. “That’s a lie. I cut my hand on a fence when I was running away . . .
The words hung in the air for what seemed an eternity. The first thing Kevin had specifically disputed was the notion that he’d been bitten by Karen Huston’s Dalmatian when he was busy shooting her husband.
“I mean . . . He began again, but it was too late.
“You did it, all right,” said Big. “You shot him. And then you framed your own brother.”
“I did not,” Kevin said with a growl. “I didn’t know he was going to find the gun. I didn’t know the cops would come looking for him. I didn’t know he was going to say he did it.”
I don’t get legitimately, blindly, violently angry often, no matter what my son tells you. But I practically leapt across the room at Kevin, and would have gone further, if he hadn’t outweighed me by about fifty muscular pounds.
“Oh, give me a break!” I screamed at him. “Who do you think you’re lying to? You took advantage of your brother’s disability from the first minute, and you planned to use it to get rid of him as easily as you got rid of Michael Huston.”
Kevin looked amazed, and I have to say, so did everyone else. I clenched my fists and turned away, a gesture Ethan knew well was an attempt to control myself while I spoke. “You could have bought any gun to kill Michael Huston, but you didn’t—you bought a special replica, an antique that only a collector would find interesting. A gun buff, like Justin. You knew your mother wouldn’t let him have a collection, so you bought something that special, that distinctive, with the hope it would attract the attention of the police. Then you hid it in a place you knew only Justin would look. You figured the cops would come, find the gun, and see Justin the way you saw him—stupid, annoying, and brain damaged, none of which he actually is. You played it just right to get the cops to suspect him.”
I actually took a few steps toward him, but made sure I stayed short of his reach, even as Big moved in closer behind Kevin to assure nothing would go amiss. “What you didn’t count on was that Justin—Asperger’s or no Asperger’s—would find the gun and, when the police arrived, understand what you’d done. And that he’d care enough to cover for you. That he loved you enough to go to jail for you for the rest of his life. That’s what you didn’t realize. But once it came about, you were only too glad to let it happen. So don’t give me that bullshit about how innocent you are, you bastard. You could have come out of hiding and saved your brother’s ass anytime you wanted, but you let him take the fall for you.”
Ethan, tickled that I’d used th
at kind of language in his presence, was still startled enough to ask Justin, “Did you really do that—confess for your brother?”
Mary, sobbing in her chair, put her head down, but Justin simply nodded and looked past Ethan. “Yeah,” he said.
“Why?” Ethan asked.
“I don’t know.”
Even Big seemed a little taken aback by all that had happened. He shook his head a few times and seemed lost in thought.
“That’s what I don’t understand, Kevin,” I told him. “If your boss didn’t want Huston killed, why did you do it? Did he owe you money or something? How could you collect if he was dead? I don’t get it, Kevin. Why?”
His upper lip curled and he looked at me. “I’ll tell you why,” he said.
Then, in one move, he turned and pushed Big backwards over the ottoman, and ran out the front door. He left it open, and the freezing wind blew through the room. Big was on his feet in a few seconds, and put his hand in his pocket, which I assume was an attempt to shield Mary from the fact that Big was pulling a gun to use on her son. He ran for the door and into the front yard.
But by the time he got there, Kevin Fowler was nowhere to be found.
Chapter Twenty
“We never should have brought him here to begin with,” Big said to me as we unlocked the minivan. “You realize, of course, that now I’m going to have to chase him down.”
“I figured that,” I said. I let Ethan into the van and closed the side door to get him out of the wind. “I assume the whole thing about protecting me and my family was really about being around me in case I tracked Kevin down.”
As I unlocked the passenger door, he grinned and shook his head. “You need to be more trusting,” he said. I opened the door, and he shook his head again. “The guys will come by in the car and get me,” Big said.
As Dog Is My Witness Page 21