Defiled

by Margaret Buffano

  “Can you tell me something about the father…about Jerry Russell?”

  “Jerry? Jerry was a good ole boy. He and I knew each other since grade school. Everybody liked Jerry. He always willingly gave of his time for civic duties, especially when it came to boys’ sports at the high school. He died of a heart attack on vacation with his wife in Europe. By the way, I wouldn’t go calling his widow about any of this. Poor woman had a stroke a few years back, and she ain’t been much good to anybody since. …Knocked her porch light out, if you know what I mean?”

  “We have it on report that when her husband died, she had him cremated in Europe?” Benson asks.

  “That’s right. …Seems it was a heck cheaper than shipping the body back to the states.”

  “So you never saw the body?”

  “I saw an urn full of ashes, if that’s what you mean.”

  “And Nicholas…Victor’s brother?”

  “When their father died, the two of them boys got pretty wild. Nicholas, I’d say, was the worst. He’d always be racing around town in his car, half the time high on something. Well, one night, he pushed his luck too far. He slammed into a light post, and the car exploded into flames.”

  “And, you got to see the body?”

  “Sure did! It was black as a piece of burned toast and just about as crispy.”

  “Then, how did you know it was Nicholas Russell?”

  “Well, for one, it was Nicholas’ car … and anyway, the body was identified.”

  “By whom?”

  “Why, the brother, of course.”

  “Why the brother? Why not the mother?”

  “You can’t expect a mother to look on her child looking the way he was…like…like a used matchstick.”

  “What were the results of the autopsy?”

  “Autopsy? For what? The boy looked like a burned marshmallow that fell off the stick and landed in the campfire. Weren’t no reason for no autopsy.”

  Benson goes silent for a moment, thinking.

  “Are you still there?” Sheriff Gibson asks.

  “Yes, Sheriff, I’m still here. One last question, please. This is going to sound a bit crazy. But do you think it’s possible, since both bodies were in a condition difficult to identify…do you think it’s possible either Victor’s father or brother might still be alive?”

  Sheriff Gibson lets out a long, hard belly laugh. “You’re right, boy. It does sound crazy. But, I’ll tell you, if either one of them are still living, they sure as hell haven’t been doing that living here in Tannersville!”

  ***

  “This is ridiculous! There’s no need for all this fuss. I can walk myself out, thank you.” Angela complains, sitting in a wheelchair.

  “Spoken like a true patient,” laughs the nurse. “You know hospital policy as well, if not better, than I do, Angela. So just relax and enjoy the ride.”

  The automatic front-door opens, and the nurse wheels Angela out to the curb. Helen is waiting in front of her parked car.

  “See? That wasn’t so bad,” says the nurse. She then turns to Helen. “She may be a wonderful doctor, but she is by far a terrible patient.”

  “I just hope you never have to go through it,” Angela remarks, getting out of the wheelchair.

  “If I do, I just hope I get a nurse as sweet as me,” laughs the nurse.

  Angela sits in the front passenger seat of Helen’s car. She lowers the window, and smiles at the nurse.

  “Despite all my bitching, I do appreciate all you’ve done for me, and I thank you very much.”

  “Don’t mention it,” says the nurse with a smile. “All in a day’s work. When will you be coming back to work?”

  “Monday…I’ll be back Monday.”

  “See you then.” She waves as Angela raises her window and the car pulls away.

  They take the main highway toward the Madison District.

  “Gee, you’re driving so fast. What’s the speed limit?” Angela is digging her fingernails into her own knees.

  “Will you relax?” laughs Helen. “I’ve never seen you like this.”

  “It’s just…I’m scared.” Angela shakes her head in dismay. “What if he doesn’t like me? What if he hates me?”

  “Calm down. He’s probably just as nervous as you are right now, thinking the same exact things. If you don’t calm down, you’ll scare each other to death.”

  “Do I look all right?” Angela is taking stock of herself in the car visor mirror.

  “You look just fine; stop worrying.”

  Angela goes silent. She gazes out her window at the world quickly passing by, each mile bringing her closer to a meeting with her son, the child she never knew.

  Helen walks into the house first, and Angela follows coyly close behind. They find Thomas in the living room, sitting on the divan by the window. He jumps up and stands at attention. There is a long and uncomfortable silence as Angela and Thomas just stand staring at each other.

  “I suppose introductions are in order,” Helen says, standing between the two of them. “Angela, this is Thomas. …Thomas, this is Angela.”

  Thomas takes a step forward.

  “I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do,” he says. “Do we hug or just shake hands?”

  “I guess we can start with a handshake and see where that leads,” Angela says, offering him her hand.

  “It’s a pleasure finally to meet you,” he says.

  “Yes, it is…I mean…it’s a pleasure to meet you, too.” Angela is staring, taking all his features in at once.

  “Well, I best be going,” Helen says, turning toward the door.

  “Oh, must you?” Angela says, nervously. “Can’t you stay for just a little while?”

  Helen looks at the two of them and smiles. “No, I need to go, really.”

  Helen places her hand on the doorknob and looks back once more, smiling.

  “Thank you, Helen. Thank you for everything,” Angela calls out to her.

  “Don’t mention it. …All in a day’s work.”

  “So…?” Angela says, timidly turning to Thomas.

  “So…?” he echoes.

  “Sit…please.” She motions him back onto the divan and takes a chair facing him.

  “Helen told me you drove over a thousand miles to get here,” Angela says, trying to engage some small talk.

  “Yes…I have to get back soon…for work. I’m afraid I’ll be leaving early in the morning.”

  Angela thinks for a moment.

  “That’s too bad,” she says. “Perhaps, since it’s such a long drive…if you’re tired…we could do this at another time?”

  “No…I’ve waited a long time for this.” His voice has the sound of a pleading urgency.

  “So have I,” Angela says softly.

  “I don’t think I could sleep now, even if I tried. Besides, I’ve got so much to ask you…so much I want to know.” His eyes speak of sorrow. “It won’t be the first night I’ve spent without sleep.”

  “Nor mine,” Angela says to herself as well as him.

  She rises from her chair. “It seems we have a long night ahead of us. This calls for a big pot of coffee. Do you like coffee?”

  He smiles at her. “It’s my fav!”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  God’s Lips

  The interrogation room is wired for sound; every word is recorded. There is a large dark-wood table with chairs in the center of the room and a two-way mirror along one wall with no one on the other side. The room is dim save for a desk lamp on the table.

  “Now, Victor, you understand everything you say is being recorded?” Benson warns.

  Victor nods an affirmative.

  “No, Victor, it’s a tape recording. You can’t just nod your answer; you have to state your answers loud and clear. Again, Victor, you understand everything you say is being recorded?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “And we are in the presence of your lawyer, Mr. Lieberman, who also knows that this is be
ing recorded?”

  “Yes, I do,” says Lieberman.

  “Now, Victor, let’s start at the beginning. What is your relationship with Mrs. Helen Haywood?”

  “Why…she’s my cousin,” says Victor, sounding a bit put off, as if it is an unnecessary waste of time to state the obvious.

  “Your cousin, you say. …In what way?”

  “My father and her father are brothers.” Victor sounds more put off.

  “Have you ever had sexual relationships with Mrs. Haywood, your cousin?”

  Victor looks to his lawyer who gives him a nod to answer.

  “Yes…once when we were very young and a few months ago when I raped her.”

  “You say the first time was when you were both young. How young were you?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. …She was maybe nine or ten. So, I guess that would make me thirteen or fourteen.”

  “And, what were the circumstances of this first time?”

  “I don’t know. …It was a long time ago. It was at some lake. The family was having a picnic at some lake. My brother and father were with me and…”

  “Was it a common practice for you, your bother, and your father to have sex with young girls?” Goebel interrupts.

  “No, that was the first and only time.”

  “I thought you said it was the first time. How many more times was there?”

  “I’m not sure. I don’t remember.”

  “But you did have an ongoing sexual relationship with your brother and your father?” Goebel presses the issue strongly.

  Victor goes silent for a moment.

  “I don’t understand what you mean.”

  “I repeat…did you have sexual relations with your brother or your father?” Goebel demands.

  Victor becomes flustered. “What do you mean by sexual relations?”

  “Okay, Victor, let me spell it out for you. Did you…with your brother or father…at any time…take your clothes off…and while naked…touch, fondle, or caress one another?”

  Victor looks as if his head is about to explode; he looks to his lawyer for advice who again nods to answer.

  “Yeah…I guess so…something like that happened.”

  “You ‘guess so’…‘something like that happened’? We need a straight answer, Victor. Were you and your brother molested by your father or not?”

  “Yes…damn you…yessss!” Victor slams his fist down on the table.

  “Was it all touching, or was there oral contact…was there any penetration?”

  “I told you yes! What more do you want to know? What good are details now?” Victor sounds drained of all energy.

  “Okay…okay…take it easy, Victor. Tell us about the time at the beach with your cousin, Helen.”

  “I told you it was too long ago. We were all naked…”

  “Who was naked?”

  “Me…my brother…my father…Helen. …My father made Nicholas and I do some stuff to each other and then Helen. I don’t know if we were too young or too scared, but we couldn’t…my brother and I couldn’t penetrate her. My father made us hold her down while he had her.”

  “Then you’re saying you helped your father rape her?”

  “Something like that.”

  “‘Something like that’? Yes or no, Victor!”

  Victor looks to his lawyer for guidance, but Lieberman is ecstatic by the way things are going. With this interrogation recording, he will have the jury crying for the judge to show mercy. Ladies and gentlemen of the jury…yes, Victor Russell committed these crimes! But in light of his tortured past, how could any of us not show pity on him? From such a perverted childhood, how could you expect any other outcome? Victor Russell is as much a victim as any of his accusers, Lieberman rehearses his speech in his mind.

  “All right, Victor…just calm down. We’re your friends. We don’t want to hurt you. We want to help you.”

  Victor lowers his head, he looks up at them, his eyes tired and exhausted.

  “So, that was the only time…with a girl…at the beach?”

  Victor nods.

  “We need you to answer, Victor.”

  “Yes…yes…yes!”

  Goebel and Benson look at each other; they know they have him on the run.

  “Tell us how you raped your cousin, Mrs. Haywood.”

  “I told you, it was my father…at the beach.”

  “No…not the time at the beach…years later.”

  Victor runs his hands over his face, trying to clear his thoughts.

  “I waited for her…where she works. I hid behind her car.”

  “Why then, Victor? You don’t see Helen for years, and then suddenly you decided to travel all the way to the big city to rape your cousin. We don’t get it, Victor. Why?”

  “It a long story…you won’t understand.”

  “Try us,” Goebel says.

  Victor goes silent.

  “Why did you wear a ski mask and gloves?”

  “I didn’t want her to recognize me. …That’s why I put dark makeup around my eyes, so she would think I was black.”

  “She hadn’t seen you in how many years? And you were afraid she’d recognize you?”

  “Not recognize me. …I meant…have a description of me.”

  “Did you know she became pregnant that night?”

  Victor looks at the two detectives, wide-eyed. “No…I didn’t.” He sounds sincerely moved by this information.

  “Don’t worry; she lost the baby before birth.”

  “That’s a shame,” says Victor.

  “So after you raped and beat your cousin, you ran off. Why didn’t you kill her?”

  “I’m not a murderer!” There is anger in Victor’s eyes.

  “No…you’re not a murderer? Then tell us about Donald Johnson.”

  “Oh…the black guy in the gay club. I didn’t mean for it to happen that way. I figured, with all the investigation, if I could get some stuff from a black guy on the panties, it would confirm that whoever did it was black.”

  “So why did you kill him?”

  “We were in his car…after he…I started to wipe him up with the panties. He started to freak out, so I shot him.”

  “Which bring us to the twenty-four thousand dollar question: how did you come in possession of the gun?”

  “I can’t tell you that…not yet.”

  Goebel and Benson exchange glances again.

  “Okay, Victor, forget that for now. What about Carol Hastings, Mrs. Haywood’s assistant?”

  Victor grows silent again.

  “Why did you take Carol Hastings, and where did you bring her?”

  Victor begins to shake his head back and forth.

  “You know your blood type doesn’t match the blood of Mrs. Haywood’s stillborn. …That means you can’t be the rapist!”

  “We found your semen stain on Carol Hastings’ underwear, but there was someone else’s semen next to yours. Who’s your accomplice? Who are you covering for?”

  “Stop it…stop it…! I told him this wouldn’t work! It’s too much information for one person to keep track of. I told him this wouldn’t work!” cries Victor.

  “That’s it. …This investigation is over right this minute.” Lieberman jumps from his chair. “Stop the recording! I want to talk to one of you two outside,” Lieberman says to Goebel and Benson, and then storms out of the interrogation room.

  Goebel follows him out into the hallway. “Walt, what the hell are you doing?”

  “I was just about to ask you the same thing!” Lieberman points his finger at Goebel’s face. “I thought we worked this all-out. I was going to help you get a confession and a conviction in exchange for an insanity plea!”

  “What the hell do you think we were just doing?” Goebel tries to keep his voice and his anger down.

  “I don’t know, you tell me! I thought this was all going to be cut-and-dried, but suddenly we’ve got other things in the mix. Why wasn’t I told about the blood and semen te
sts and the possibility of an accomplice?”

  “We only just found out about this. …There wasn’t time. We’re on your side, Walt. Nobody wants to go around your back,” Goebel pleads. “Just tell us what you want and we’ll make it happen.”

  Lieberman takes a deep breath and calms down.

  “Well, for one, I don’t want to continue without Victor being examined by a psychiatrist. We both know the guy is buggy, but I want it on paper that he is. Once I got that, I don’t care what you ask him or what direction you want to take this.”

  “It’s a deal,” Goebel says.

  “I’ll call you and let you know who and when,” says Lieberman.

  “Now, I’ve got one demand to make, as well,” Goebel adds. “I want the doctor’s examination done here in this same room, and I want the tape recorder going. I want it all to go on record as just another part of the investigation, and I want to make sure it’s admissible in court.”

  “You took the words right out of my mouth. I’ll call you early tomorrow.” Lieberman starts down the hall.

  Goebel walks back inside the interrogation room. “Well, that about winds everything up for today. It’s back to the cell for you, Victor.”

  Benson rises from his chair, walks over to the far corner of the room, and motions for Goebel to approach him.

  “Lieberman wants Victor looked at by a doctor,” Goebel whispers low enough so Victor can’t hear. “I told him it was okay, as long as we get to tape it.”

  “Well, whatever we do, we better do it soon,” Benson says. “This guy isn’t going to standup to much more of this.”

  Goebel looks over at Victor. “Yeah, he does look pretty spooked.”

  “I think he’s about to crack up,” Benson says. “Which, as you know, can be a good thing or a bad thing…depending on the timing. If we get him when he’s just about to crack, he’ll spill his guts, but if he goes over the edge, he’s useless.”

  “Yeah, I think you’re right. We’ve got to make sure the doctor gets to the point we want him to and no further. There’s ways to get that done. …We’ve done it before.” Goebel turns from Benson toward Victor, “Back to the cell, Victor. It’s TV time.”

  ***

  Early morning sunlight pours golden into the kitchen; the coffee turned cold hours ago. If only Angela can hold back the dawn, if only she can have her son stay for just a few minutes longer, but the earth turns without giving apologizes.