Defiled

by Margaret Buffano

  “They actually had the gall to claim it their own private, secret boy’s club, with Jerry as the head official and Tom as second-in-command.”

  “How does Helen Haywood fit in?” Dodson asks.

  “I was just about to get to her,” Benson says. “It seems when she was little, her father tried being a little touchy-feely with her, but her mother caught him in the act and threatened him. He could do whatever he wanted, but when it came to her daughter, that’s where she drew the line – which was fine with Tom since that really wasn’t his thing.”

  “His own daughter,” Goebel interrupts with a tone of disgust in his voice. “What a sick bastard! I’ve got a daughter the same age, and if anyone touched her when she was little, I’d kill the son of a bitch…including myself!”

  It is obvious the beer is taking its toll.

  “As I was saying,” continues Benson, “the incident at the lake was a mistake. Young Helen accidentally came onto the family orgy at the clearing in the woods. They raped her. When it was over, she ran off crying. By some saving grace, the memory of it was pushed somewhere deep into her subconscious, which was a blessing or she may have ended cuckoo like her cousins…but I’ll get back to that in a minute.

  “Anyway, she ran away crying and left her doll. Jerry Russell kept that doll. He claimed it was the honorary female of the secret club. He was obsessed with it…talking to it…having sex with it. He even incorporated it into some of the basement orgies with the boys.

  “Over the years, every so often they would bring poor little Helen into one of their meetings. Thankfully, she doesn’t remember much of anything from that time.

  “Years later, Jerry Russell died of a heart attack while on vacation in Spain. The man is truly deceased…believe me. Now, this makes Tom, his brother and second-in-command, the new leader of the secret boy’s club. He inherits everything: the boys, the club, the basement, and the photos…even the stupid doll.

  “By this time, the young boys are all well-conditioned and very crazy. They don’t know up from down. When Tom claims the new leadership, he also claims to be their father…the poor bastards believe him.

  “Everything continued as if nothing happened, as if nothing had changed. But when the boys hit their late teens, Tom found it increasingly harder to control them. He even had to kill one of them – Nicholas, the most rebellious – and make it look like an accident.

  “Years go by; Tom visited the boys rarely. I suppose he lost most of his interest in them as they grew closer to manhood and less like children. But he still kept possession of the doll. He became obsessed with it, just like his brother. Till one day, the string in the back of the doll broke. …The string wasn’t the only thing to snap that day. It pushes Tom over the deep end. He gets back in contact with Victor and Kyle and starts running their lives again. He got it into his mind he was going to dissolve the secret club in one last horrific blood-fest…starting with the death of…now get this…the death of the doll. But the doll is broken, and somehow in his twisted mind, he shifts the identity of the doll to that of his daughter…the original owner of the doll.”

  “Wow, this is starting to sound more like some sick cult rather than a family,” says Dodson. “I suppose this is where Helen Haywood comes into the picture?”

  “That’s right,” Benson says. “Tom Russell ordered Kyle to beat and rape her. …The ski mask and makeup were used to keep us off track. Mrs. Haywood turning up pregnant was an unexpected bonus for him.

  “The plan was to terrorize her to the point of madness and then kill her, and they nearly succeeded.

  “Tom, himself, started hanging out at the Velvet Hammer intending to get some love juice from a black man to put on Mrs. Haywood’s missing panties, reinforcing the black rapist theory. He got lucky, but for Donald Johnson, his luck ran out…it cost him his life. For a smart guy, Russell wasn’t so smart. We compared DNA…nothing matched.”

  “Why did Russell give his daughter a gun?” Dodson asks.

  “When Haywood’s doctor started poking around inside Helen’s brain, several old memories started coming back to her. He knew he could lure her to the lake; so he gave her a gun…a gun with blanks, that is.

  “When Richard Haywood took possession of the gun, Tom Russell couldn’t have asked for anything better. …This shifted the suspicion of who rigged the gun with blanks from him to the husband.

  “When Helen shot at him, he went down and played dead. When she ran for help, he substituted the body of Carol Hastings for his.”

  “Which brings up a question,” Dodson says, “Why did he kill Carol Hastings?”

  “It was just another form of torture. He planned to make Helen’s life as miserable as possible by hurting the people she cared for…that is, before killing her as he planned.”

  “And Victor Russell,” Dodson tries to put some of the puzzle together, “he was told to give himself up and confess to everything when it was thought we were getting a little too close to the truth. But of course, the plan failed because of DNA results. But what about Kyle – how does he enter back into the picture?”

  “When Mrs. Haywood went to Tannersville to do some investigating on her own, she met Kyle by sheer chance. They hit it off, and the rest is history. The love affair was custom made for Tom Russell’s plan.”

  “What about Dr. Mitchell’s beating? Who did that?”

  “As far as we figure,” says Benson, “and we can’t prove it, mind you, but everything points to Richard Haywood. He had words with the good doctor, and swore revenge. He took advantage of the situation by wearing a ski mask…trying to throw us off the scent. But like I said, legally we can’t prove anything, but if I had to bet on it, my money would be on Richard Haywood.”

  “Now, didn’t Tom Russell turn up black and blue from a beating he claimed was from his daughter’s assailant? What was that all about?”

  “Well, it seems during his short visit to the Velvet Hammer that Tom Russell got a taste for the place. One night he picked up the wrong guy…some young stud that beats up on oversexed old men and takes their wallets. The assailant became the victim. But he turned it to his advantage. He drove to a mall as far away from the club as possible and made it look as if he had been beaten up in the mall parking lot.”

  “What about the killings of Eleanor Russell and Joyce Adams? Why kill them?”

  “Killed his own mother…the sick bastard,” Goebel interrupts, clearly drunk now. “Tom Russell tells Kyle to kill two old women and up he jumps and does it…his own mother…the sick bastard!”

  Benson, not half as drunk as his partner continues.

  “Eleanor Russell phoned the local Sheriff the night before. It was clear she was going to spill her guts. Joyce overheard the call. Afraid for her son’s safety, she foolishly told Kyle who instinctively told Tom.

  “Tom didn’t want to take any chances so he made Kyle kill them both. Which only goes to show you how well trained these boys were. I mean…to kill his own mother…but you have to remember, the hold was on these boys from the day they were born.”

  “Now…the second gun,” Dodson says. “The second gun he gave his daughter that didn’t have blanks in it! Those were real bullets! What did he have…a death wish?”

  “Not at all,” Benson replies. “He knew she would shoot Kyle in self-defense. It didn’t matter to him, he wanted them both dead. If Kyle killed her, he would have killed Kyle. If she killed Kyle, which is what happened, he planned to kill her. But he never realized there was a joker in the deck. Don Hastings followed Helen Haywood around for weeks with revenge in his heart for his wife and his hunting rifle at his side.

  “When he saw the opportunity, he let Tom – the man who raped, tortured and killed his wife – have it…big time!”

  “Sending his soul to be with his brother in hell,” concludes Goebel.

  Just then, Captain Vega walks over and snatched the pitcher of beer from the table. Goebel looks up at him – confused – through glassy eyes.
>
  “That’s enough beer for you two. I need you to get your heads back on straight. I need you to answer a call,” says Vega.

  “But, we’re off duty!” slurs Goebel.

  “Well, now you’re back on. We just got a call…a women was raped in her home by aliens.”

  “Aliens…? You mean Mexicans?” Benson asks.

  “No, not Mexicans…aliens…space aliens. …At least that’s what she claims.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding,” Benson says as he stands up.

  “No, I’m not kidding,” Vegas’ voice is demanding. “Now get your butts in gear!”

  “Slave-driving son of a bitch,” Goebel mutters under his breath as he and Benson walk out of the backroom.

  “I heard that!” Vega hollers. “Say, what the hell is that you’re drinking?” Vega is speaking now to Dodson.

  “Don’t ask,” says Max who takes the half-filled beer pitcher from Vegas and walks away.

  ***

  “Hold your horses, I’m coming,” Angela addresses the ringing phone.

  “Hello?”

  “Angela? It’s me…Helen.”

  “Helen, so good to hear from you. Is everything all right?”

  “Oh, yeah…sure…everything is fine. Just working, you know.”

  Angela doesn’t say a word. During all the months they have known each other, she’s learned to read between the lines with Helen. She knows sometimes when Helen says “everything is fine” it means just that, and at other times it doesn’t. This time it doesn’t. Angela waits for the other shoe to drop.

  “Actually, there is something,” Helen says softly.

  “And what’s that?” Angela tries not to sound pushy, but concerned.

  “I went to see my mother yesterday.”

  “And…”

  “And it seems she’s doing well. I mean, they take such good care of them at that place. She looks well; they say she’s eating. She likes to sit in the garden…”

  “Helen…” Angela gently interrupts, “that’s not what you called to tell me, is it?”

  “No, it’s not,” Helen moans. “I’ve got so many mixed feelings when it comes to my mother. I love her so much, but I have such anger for her inside me. All those years she knew and didn’t tell anyone. She could have stopped it at any time, but she didn’t. I was her child!”

  Helen turns silent. Angela waits for her to continue.

  “And now I feel so sorry for her…for what’s happened to her. …She just sits there staring into space.”

  “And you think that’s your fault?” Angela asks.

  “Yes! No…oh, I don’t know what I think. She just sits there, not saying a word, oblivious to the world. Sometimes I envy her.”

  “I know sometimes life seems like it would be much easier if we didn’t feel anything,” Angela says, “and that’s a choice your mother made. You had nothing to do with her choices. And you shouldn’t feel like that. You’ve come such a long way. You’re finally starting to heal.”

  “Thanks to you,” Helen says. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

  “Well, I appreciate your appreciation,” laughs Angela.

  The two go silent. The mood switches. They have learned naturally to shift from doctor and patient, to friends.

  “So, this is a long weekend coming up,” Helen says, lightheartedly. “Feel like doing something?”

  “Oh, Helen, I’d love to, but my son invited me out to his place for the weekend.”

  “Say, that’s great! It’s finally working out for you two!”

  “It seems that way. I can only hope. He lives in a small apartment, so we’re going to be staying at a hotel close by and…”

  “Whoa…we’re going to be staying? What’s this we all about?”

  “Well, I guess you could say I’ve been seeing someone,” Angela says shyly.

  “You guess?” laughs Helen. “Who is he? What’s he like?”

  “His name is Peter. He’s very sweet…a bit of a loner…sort of marches to the beat of a different drummer.”

  “Sounds like someone else I know,” Helen says jokingly. “So where did you meet him?”

  “He came with those two detectives. They came by to ask a few questions, and he was with them. He was shy at first; calling me for the silliest of reasons about the case…till finally he got up the nerve to ask me out.”

  “I think I remember him. …He was in forensics, wasn’t he? Now, what was his name…something Dodson…wasn’t it?”

  “That’s him…Peter Dodson! Helen, I hate to ask, but could you do a favor for me? It’s been years. …I need some help buying cosmetics.”

  “Say no more,” Helen says. “I know just the place. …We could have lunch and make a day of it. But I insist it’s on me.”

  “Oh, Helen I couldn’t…”

  “Oh, yes, you could! I won’t take no for an answer. It’s the least I can do…my gift to you.”

  “Thanks so much. But now I feel bad…you alone for the holiday weekend. …What will you do?”

  “I don’t know,” laughs Helen, “go to the movies, bake a cake, go skydiving…whatever I want. I’m free to do whatever I want!”

  THE END