by The Web(Lit)
Nothing.
What about your family?" I said.
"Claire and the kids."
No response.
"I know this has been a nightmare for you, but you're not helping yourself."
Nothing.
"You're being a fool," I said, loud as I could without attracting Dennis's attention.
"Pigheaded like Moreland, but sometimes it pays to think independently."
Involuntary flinch.
Then back to stone-face, "Sins of the father," I went on.
"People are already making that connection."
His lower lip twitched.
"Guilt by association," I went on.
"That's why I had to come down here. Moreland's confined to the estate because Dennis is afraid of what people might do to him. We're all confined.
It's gotten ugly."
Silence.
"People are angry, Ben. It's only a matter of time before they start wondering about his being Dr. Frankenstein, what he does in that lab. If maybe Anne Marie and Betty were his idea as well as yours."
The lip dropped, then snapped shut.
I gave him a few more minutes, then came closer and spoke to his left ear.
"If you're really as loyal as you make out, tell me what happened.
If you butchered Betty on your own, just admit it and let them know Moreland had nothing to do with it. If you have another story, tell it, too. You're not helping yourself or anyone else this way."
Nothing.
"Unless Moreland did have something to do with it," I said.
No movement.
"Maybe he did. All those late-night walks. God knows what he was up to. I saw him one night, two A.M." carrying his doctor's bag. Treating who? And those surgical tools were his."
Another flinch. Stronger.
Flick of his head.
"What?" I said.
He clamped his mouth shut.
"He studies predators. Maybe his interest isn't limited to bugs."
He blinked hard and fast. Exactly the way Moreland did when he was nervous.
"Is he in on it with you, Ben? Did he teach you Aruk's own Dr. Mengele?"
Half a headshake turned into a full one.
"Okay," I said.
"So why clam up like this?"
Back to immobility.
"You want me to believe you did do it, alone. Okay, I'll buy it, for the moment. No surprise, I guess, given your family history."
Silence.
"Your criminal history, too," I added.
"Some sex killers start off as peepers. Some of them search for new ways to deal with their impotence. Anne Marie wasn't penetrated sexually, and I bet Betty wasn't, either."
More blinking, as if to make up for lost time.
"Dennis told me about the Hawaii arrest. Soon everyone will know about it, including Claire and the kids. And Dr. Bill. If he doesn't already."
He let out hot, sour breath.
I forced myself to remain close.
What else were you up to, back then? Ever travel to the mainland when you were in the Guard? See the sights maybe Washington, D.C.?"
Blank look.
"Peeping Tom," I said.
"Vivaldi on the terrace doesn't cancel it out. Whatever else you did over there will come out too, once they really start checking."
No reaction.
"The reason I mentioned D.C. is it's not far from a place called Wiggsburg, Maryland."
His eyes angled downward. Puzzled? Distressed? Then they were staring straight ahead, again, as unmoving as when I'd entered.
I was coated with sweat. Had become accustomed to the sulfur stench.
"The funny thing is, Ben, it's still hard for me to think of you that way. Despite the evidence. Do you actually like to eat people? Odd for someone raised by a vegetarian. Unless that's the point?
He began breathing hard and fast. || "Is it your way of slapping Moreland in the face?" |r He inhaled deeply, held his breath. His hands began curling | and tightening, the knuckles almost glassy. I stepped back but kept talking:
"The brain, the liver. The bone marrow? How does something like that start? When did it start?"
He struggled to stay calm.
"Moreland taught you a lot about medicine. Did it include dissection?"
His chest swelled and his skin turned as gray as the cell floor.
Then he stopped.
Stilling his eyes.
Composing himself.
Another slow count. To two thousand.
I stood there watching him.
He pressed one hand against his breastbone.
His eyes, suddenly clear.
Not with insight.
Washed by tears.
He began shaking, flung his arms wide, as if welcoming crucifixion.
Staring at me.
I moved back further, my spine at the wall. Had I pushed it too far?
His arms fell.
Turning away, he whispered: "Sorry."
"For what, Ben?"
Long silence.
"Getting into this."
"Getting into this?"
Slo-mo nod.
"Stupid," he said, barely audible.
"What was?"
"Getting into this."
"Killing Betty?"
"No," he said, with sudden strength. He bent so low his brow touched his knees. The back of his neck was exposed, as if for the executioner's ax. The boil seemed to stare at me, a fiery cyclops eye.
"You didn't kill her?"
He shook his head and mumbled.
"What's that, Ben?"
"But..."
"But what?"
Silence.
"But what?"
Silence.
"But what, Ben?"
"No one will believe me."
"Why?"
"You don't."
"All I know are the facts that Dennis gave me. Unless you tell me different, why should I believe otherwise?"
"Dennis doesn't."
Why should he?"
He looked up, still bowed, face angled awkwardly.
"He knows me."
"Then if you've got an alibi, give it to him."
He straightened and returned his eyes to the wall.
Shaking his head.
"What is it?" I said.
"No alibi."
"Then what's your story?"
More headshaking, then silence.
What's your last memory before they found you with Betty?"
No answer.
When did you start drinking last night?"
"I didn't."
"But you were drank when they found you."
"They say."
"You didn't drink but you were drunk?"
"I don't drink."
"Since when?"
"A long time."
"Since you cleaned up in high school?"
Hesitation. Nod.
Were you drunk in Hawaii? The Peeping Tom bust?"
He started to cry again. Growled and stiffened and managed to hold it in check.
"What happened in Hawaii, Ben?"
"Nothing it was a big... mistake."
"You weren't peeping?"
Suddenly he laughed so heartily, it caused him to rock, rattling the bunk.
Taking hold of his cheeks, he tugged down and created a sad-clown face, horribly at odds with the laughter.
"Big mistake. Big, big, big mistake."
After that, he stopped talking, fluctuating between long bouts of silence and incongruous laughter.
Some kind of breakdown?
Or faking it?
"I just don't understand it, Ben. You claim you didn't kill Betty, but you seem awfully comfortable being a suspect. Maybe it is something to do with Moreland. I'm going back to the estate to talk to him."
I moved toward the cell door.
'You wouldn't understand," he said.
"Try me."
He shook his head.
"What's so damned profound that yo
u can't part with it?" I said. The fact that you grew up low status and now you're being thought of as the scum of the earth again? Sure, it's a cruel irony, but what happened to those girls was a hell of a lot crueler, so forgive me if I don't shed tears."
"I-' Shaking his head again.
"Everything comes round, Ben. Big insight. I'm a psychologist, I've heard it before.
"You you're wasting your time. Dr. Bill is. Best to cut me loose."
"Why?"
"I don't stand a chance. Because of who I am what you just said. Scum family, scum child. Before Dr. Bill took me in, they wanted to send me to reform school. I... used to do bad things."
"Bad things?"
"That's why this makes sense to everyone. Dennis knows me, and he thinks I did it. When they brought me in, their faces everyone's."
He looked back at the wall. Put a finger to his mouth and tried to get a purchase on what remained of the cuticle.
"What about their faces?" I said.
The finger flew out.
"No! You're wasting your time! They found me there. With her. I know I wouldn't couldn't have done it, but they found me. What can I say? I'm starting to think I..."
This time he let the tears come.
When his sobs subsided, I said, "Have you ever done anything like this before?"
"No!"
"Did you kill Anne Marie Valdos?"
"No!"
"What about the Peeping Tom thing?"
That was stupid! A bunch of us from the Guard were on weekend leave; we went to a club in Waikiki. Everyone was drinking and partying. Usually I had ginger ale, this time I thought I could... handle it. Had a beer. Stupid. Stupid. Then another. I'm a stupid asshole, okay? We tried to pick up some girls, couldn't, went to walk it off in some residential neighborhood. I had to take a... needed to urinate. Found a garage wall, behind some house. The window to the house was open. She heard. We got caught I did. The others ran."
He looked at me.
"That doesn't sound terrible," I said.
"If that's really the way it happened."
"It is. That's the only filthy thing I've ever done since... I reformed."
"What was your relationship with Betty?"
"I knew her. Knew her family."
"Did she have a reputation for fooling around?"
"I guess."
"Did you fool around with her?"
"No!"
"No affair?"
"No! I love my wife my life is clean!"
"Her baby wasn't yours?"
7 love my wife! My life is clean!"
"Repeating it won't make it so."
He started to come toward me, stopped himself.
"It's true."
"Did you know she had the clap?"
Surprise on his face. Genuine?
"I don't know about that. My life is clean."
"So how'd you end up in the park with your head on Betty's entrails?"
"I it's a... it's a crazy story, you'll never believe it." Closing his eyes.
"Just go. Tell Dr. Bill to forget about me. He's got important things to do."
"You're pretty important to him."
He shook his head violently.
"Tell me the story, Ben."
The head kept shaking.
"Why not?"
He stopped. Another smile. Enigmatic.
"Too stupid. I couldn't even tell Claire wouldn't believe it myself."
"Try me. I'm used to strange stories."
Silence.
"Keeping quiet just makes you look guilty, Ben."
"Everything makes me look guilty," he said.
"If you keep your mouth shut, you can't swallow flies."
"Did Moreland tell you that? His quotations are usually a little more elegant."
"No," he said sharply.
"My... father."
"What other words of wisdom did your father give you?"
Keeping his eyes closed, he tightened the lids.
Lying down on the bunk, face to the skimpy straw mattress.
"Okay," I said.
"Maybe you should save it for your lawyer, anyway. Dennis has called for a public defender from Saipan.
It'll take at least two days, maybe longer. Anything you want me to tell Moreland other than to abandon you?"
No movement.
I called out Dennis's name.
Deputy Ed Ruiz shuffled in and produced a key.
"Say anything?"
I didn't answer.
The toothless mouth creased in contempt.
"Figures. His old man never said anything either when we used to throw his ass in here. Just lie there, like he's doing. Like some damn piece of wood. Then, soon as the lights went out, he'd start having those drunk-dreams, screaming about things eating him alive."
He put the key in the lock. When it got so loud we couldn't stand it, we'd hose him off and that would work for a while. Then he'd sleep again and go right back into those DTs. All night like that. Next morning, he'd be denying he did anything. Few days later, he'd be sauced up again, insult some woman or grab her, take a poke at some guy, and be back in here, the same damn thing all over."
He came forward, pointing at Ben.
"Only difference is, Daddy used to sleep on the top bunk. We'd put him on the bottom, but he'd always find a way to get up there, no matter how drunk.
Then, of course, he'd roll off in the middle of the night, fall on his ass, crack his head. But climb right back on top, the stupid shithead. Stubborn-stupid. Some people don't learn."
He snickered and turned the key.
Behind me, Ben said, "Hold on."
28. Ruiz looked at him with disgust.
"Hey, killer." Bracing one bony hand against the edge of the cell door. USMC tattoo across the top.
"How much time do I have left?" said Ben.
The doctor here is ready to go."
"I can wait," I said.
"If he's got something to tell me."
Ruiz mashed his lips and peered at his watch.
"Suit yourself.
Eighteen minutes."
He lingered near the door.
We'll take all eighteen," I said. He walked away, very slowly.
When I turned back to Ben, he was on his feet, next to the toilet hole, squeezing himself into a corner.
"This is the story," he said in a dead voice.
"I don't care what you think of it, the only reason I'm telling you is so you'll pass it along to Dr. Bill."
"Okay."
"Though you probably won't."
"Why not?"
"You can't be trusted."
Why's that?"
The way you talked about him before. He's a great man you have no idea."
"Hey," I said.
"If you don't trust me to deliver the message, save it for your lawyer."
"Lawyers can't be trusted, either."
The one in Hawaii didn't do well by you?"
There was no trial in Hawaii," he said.
"I pled guilty and the Guard gave me some brig time. They said it wouldn't go on my record. Obviously, they can't be trusted either."
"Life's rough," I said.
"I'm sure Betty's family thinks so too."