Divine Vices

by Parkin, Melissa

  I nodded. “As much as it pains me to say, you just might be onto something.”

  We passed by the gymnasium and Gwen immediately expressed interest once she saw the cheerleading squad practicing in the middle of the court as others ran laps around the perimeter.

  “Rachel Haggerty?” she called out as we entered.

  The blonde who seemed to be conducting the rest of the girls in a cheer turned, giving us her best practiced smile. “What can I do for you?”

  “We’re with New Haven’s Gossip Hour, and we were just hoping that you could help us out with a story.”

  “New Haven? Far from your neck of the woods here, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, well, this in part has to do with a former classmate of yours, Jackson Matthews.”

  She seemed surprised, but the name left more of a look of disappointment than anything. Turning to her squad, she called out, “Take five!”

  Her demeanor didn’t read uncooperative, but the subject matter didn’t seem to leave her too happy either. “What’d you want to know?”

  “How would you describe his presence here? Was he sociable? Or was he a bit more of a loner, perhaps?” questioned Gwen.

  “Depends on when,” replied Rachel, rather coolly.

  “What about football?” I said, trying to avoid her thinking the conversation was too interrogational.

  Rachel finally smiled. “For the record, he was the quintessential, all-American team leader. He was driven and committed to the game. Football was his life. Excellent captain.”

  “And off the record?” asked Gwen.

  “In all honesty? He didn’t really care about anything in particular as long as it was off the field. Schoolwork, holding down a job, properly dating. None of it mattered to him.”

  “Care to elaborate?”

  “As nicely as possible, he couldn’t take a thing seriously. Constantly skipped class, until Coach threatened to bench him if he pulled it again. Made most of his money gambling. And I can’t think of a time that he’d have a girl on his arm more than once.”

  I could just feel Gwen’s stare burning through me, but I refused to give her the satisfaction of returning her look. “How did he handle what happened last fall?”

  “Hell, what part of it? The police, or everything that happened with him and his dad? To say that he distanced himself from the world would be an understatement. Didn’t come as much of a surprise when I heard he was planning on moving. With the rumors, then the accident, then being dethroned from the team? Nobody could manage to treat him normal again.”

  “Did you ever think he was capable of what the police questioned him about?” asked Gwen.

  “Admittedly, Jack and I had our thing,” said Rachel wincingly. “Lasted for about a minute, but even in that time it was obvious that he was a real hothead. Constantly stirring up other guys, saying things to piss people off. Didn’t really think before speaking.”

  “You ever know him to be analytical?” I asked.

  Rachel snickered. “Jack? Yeah right. Praise the Lord for blessing him with that face, ’cause I think He went a little light on the brains.”

  Gwen snorted as she tried to refrain from laughing.

  “But you didn’t think he was guilty, did you?” I asked, already knowing Gwen wouldn’t approve of my wordplay implying his innocence.

  “That case left all of us here a bit dumbfounded, not to mention suspicious. I didn’t put anything past anyone. No one thought Brian Hanover or Justin Tither were capable of it, but after they were brought in, nobody else went missing.”

  We conducted a few more interviews around the school, and the consensus was out. Nothing concrete, or even remotely suggestive hinting towards his guiltiness, had been uncovered.

  “Happy?” I said, strolling out into the parking lot.

  “I’d hardly put it that way, but I’ll admit that we’ve reached an impasse. For now.”

  “What else do you have up your sleeves?”

  “I’m still awaiting the arrival of some evidence from the cases.”

  “And what laws did you break to get access to this information?”

  “None.”

  “I have more than a hard time believing that.”

  “It was wholly legitimate. I properly requested it.”

  “You what?”

  “Maine’s Freedom of Access Act states that so long as the court’s records haven’t been sealed for reasons of confidentiality, those records are presumed to be opened to the public. I already requested the information so I could comb through the evidence on the cases with my own eyes.”

  I managed to keep my jaw from dropping into my lap, but I still couldn’t wipe the deer-caught-in-headlights look from my face as I gawked at Gwen.

  “What’s with you?” she said, hopping in the car.

  “I wasn’t aware you were this well-versed in matters pertaining to the law,” I replied. “That’s all.”

  “Cass, I want to be a professional reporter. And the first thing any good reporter needs to know is where the boundaries of the law are.”

  “So people like you can hop over them willingly if those said ‘boundaries’ don’t grant you what you want?” I cracked.

  She smiled mischievously as I parked a seat behind the wheel. “Well, if I’m gonna break the law, I should at least know my way around the system. Now, as far as everything with regard to Jack is concerned, you’re gonna have to stay away from him, at least until I have a chance to look everything over.”

  “And how long will that take?”

  “Why? Are you in a hurry to start swooning over your murderous womanizer again?”

  “No, but if you’ve been paying any bit of attention lately, you’d know that staying clear of him is virtually impossible.”

  “Relax, I should be getting the records soon.”

  Chapter 19

  What Kind of Love Are You On

  By the time we made our way back down towards New Haven, the sun was already setting. Even the thick evergreens could not hide the flashing beam of the local lighthouse from off the coastline. That’s when I realized just where we were. Gwen had nodded off in the passenger seat, so I figured she wouldn’t have minded a slight detour. Heading down by the docks, I drove through the less reputable part of town by Capone’s just off Highway 1 and found my way to an all-night dive bar called Fritz’s.

  I rolled up all the windows and locked the doors before I left Gwen, hoping that my leather gear was enough to barter me passage with the crew inside. Graffiti decorated the entire front entrance and a large bouncer stamped my hand to identify me as a minor as I entered the bar.

  After last night’s unconscious misadventure, I figured it would be best to cover all bases, and it was already a positive start. The stamp on the outside of my hand was identical to the one Jack was sporting when I saw him this morning. Granted, the ink used on these didn’t wash off easy, so it didn’t secure a definite timeline, but it still gave me a sense of relief. And I needed it, because everything else about this place pushed my nerves to the brink of running back out the door for dear life.

  The whole joint was engulfed with a thick fog of cigar and cigarette smoke, and probably every unsavory roughneck in the area was at the bar. Some younger guys were at the pool and foosball tables, but they seemed to be bread from the same ruffianly blood as Cal. A few of them were tussling about in the corner, and I knew that if I had a lick of sense in my brain, I’d make sure that this visit went as quickly as possible before a full out brawl occurred.

  “What can I get you?” said the bartender as I leaned against the counter. His entire left arm was a sleeve of tattoos that included skulls, blood, reapers, and all the other things saved for demented bedtime stories.

  “Actually, I was curious if you could help me out,” I replied, trying to talk over the clamor and music. “You weren’t working last night by any chance, were you?”

  He furrowed his brows. “What’s it to you?”

 
“I’m looking for someone, and I heard he may have been in here.”

  “What’s he look like?”

  “Young. About six foot. Black hair. Blue eyes. Attractive.”

  “Real smartass?”

  “Sounds about right.”

  “Yeah, he came in with a group at around ten. Rented out one of our private rooms for the night.”

  “He ever leave and come back?”

  “Not that I noticed.”

  “You remember when he left for good?”

  “Around dawn.”

  “He ever come in here before?”

  “Once that I know of,” he said, eyeballing me. “So, what, are you like his girlfriend or something?”

  I laughed. “Hardly. Just someone trying to collect a debt.”

  He cracked a smile. “Ah, a very common tale around these parts. You want to leave your number? I can give you a ring next time he comes in.”

  Having already dug myself the hole, I figured I had to take it to the end zone. “Appreciated.” I scribbled my cell down onto a bar napkin and slid it his way. “Thank you for your time.”

  “No problem.”

  I exited Fritz’s and found Gwen sitting in the passenger seat just where I had left her. She awoke when I closed the car door behind me after I climbed back in.

  “Ugh, how long have I been out?” she mumbled, peeling her eyes wide open as she gawked at the neon sign of the bar. “Where in Kansas are we?!”

  “Just wrapping up some business,” I said, turning over the engine.

  Gwen propped herself up. “You visit seedy bars now? Okay, who are you, and what did you do to my friend?”

  I only smiled, but I would have broken out into a victory dance if it wasn’t for the fact that I didn’t want to explain the purpose behind my pit stop.

  “Hold on, I know him,” I said, catching a familiar figure in my sights from across the street as I pulled up to an intersection not five minutes later.

  “Who?”

  “Him,” I said, pointing to the scruff in the racing jacket.

  “Oww,” gawked Gwen. “You stumble upon a treasure-trove of sexy ruffians, or something? He’s hot!”

  “Yeah, well, he happens to be a friend of Jack’s. I met him while we were at dinner.”

  “You were on a date with Jack?”

  “No, it wasn’t like that,” I said, pulling alongside the curb of an adjoining street from the building Cal headed into.

  “What are you doing?”

  “What does it look like? I’m tailing him,” I said, popping the driver’s door open.

  “Hold up there, Sherlock,” called out Gwen, climbing out as well. “You’re not going into some unsavory joint alone.”

  We locked the car and skulked our way toward the building.

  “Shut the front door!” barked Gwen. She gripped my arm and tossed me against the brick sidings behind a newsstand. “Isn’t that Jack’s car?”

  I poked my head around the booth, and sure enough, the Impala came rumbling up from down the way. “His friend had mentioned something about how they had gotten ‘new troops’ for their little get-together when he ran into Jack at the restaurant.”

  “Troops? Like muscle?”

  “Maybe.”

  “You think they’re dealing something? Drugs? Guns?!”

  “Only one way to find out,” I said, pulling her back down the way we came after we watched Jack head inside the same building.

  Despite my obvious aversion for dark alleyways, I decided this time around I’d take the risk and I led Gwen to a back entrance. We crept along the ramshackle building’s broken tiled floors of the ammonia polluted hallways, slinking closer and closer to the growing sounds of chatter.

  “Okay, who would like to start us off today?” spoke a familiar voice. It was Cal.

  I motioned her toward a set of duel doors near the front of the building which had yet to be closed.

  “Hi. I’ve been an alcoholic for... as long as I can remember. I’ve tried to quit on my own, but it’s never worked. My wife says that if I don’t clean up my act soon, then she’s gonna be heading out the door. She’s made these threats before, but... I think this time she’s serious. I’ve already lost my two oldest children ’cause of this. I’m at the end of my rope here...”

  “What the hell?” mouthed Gwen.

  I shrugged, just as baffled by the statement. Quickly stealing a look inside the room, I caught a glimpse inside a neglected gymnasium. The floorboards across the court were severely warped and the rims on the baskets overhead looked about one shot away from falling clear off the backboards. There was a large group of folding chairs set around the middle of the gym in a massive circle, and there was a table full of coffee, Styrofoam cups, and plates of donuts by the side of the half court mark. Taped across the front of the table was a big sign that read “Alcoholics Anonymous.”

  What the hell was right.

  “What is it?” whispered Gwen.

  I poked my eyes around the bend again, and I spotted Jack standing outside of the group handing out some refreshments. Another one of the people in the circle raised her hand, and Jack called on her.

  “It’s an A.A. meeting,” I said, pulling my head back into the hallway.

  “... I’d been struggling with my sobriety for years, but then that young man came to me and told me he could help. And he brought me here, and I found the support I needed,” said a middle-aged woman. “He’s a godsend.”

  I looked again, and I saw Jack come over to her and give her a hug.

  I bolted back through the alleyway, feeling like the most ridiculous, meddlesome little busybody I had ever the displeasure of knowing.

  “What did you see?” called out Gwen, racing after me as I charged across the street back to the car.

  “What do you think? It’s an A.A. meeting,” I said, climbing behind the wheel. “And Jack’s a volunteer there.”

  “What?”

  “Yeah!” I turned over the engine as she got into the passenger seat.

  “Why would he be volunteering there?”

  “Because he’s a serial killer. That’s just what they do, right?” I said, tearing out of there as fast as I could. “Gwen, he’s just being a decent person.”

  “You don’t know that for sure.”

  “So what you’re saying is that he’s a killer, masquerading as a bad boy, pretending to be a secret do-gooder?” I inquired. “Either he overthinks things as much as you do, or he’s just a normal guy with a sensitive side he doesn’t like to expose. Guess which one I’m going to side with here?”

  “You’ve fallen for him, haven’t you?!”

  “What? No!”

  “Yes, you have! You’ve got that whole Stockholm thing!”

  “Gwen, that’s for kidnapping victims.”

  “Same idea nevertheless. It’s still about over-dominating personalities using the sensitivities of their prey against themselves, and now he’s got you thinking that not only is he not a potential killer, but that he’s actually a nice guy!”

  “You know, he really isn’t as terrible as you want to believe he is.”

  “Example?” Gwen demanded. “What on earth did he say to you during those tutoring sessions? He put you under hypnosis or something?”

  “No, he just showed me that there’s more to him than what meets the eye.”

  “Like?”

  I know I really shouldn’t have kept going down this road, but it was Gwen who turned us onto it in the first place. And she was insistent to stay the course. “Okay, but if I tell you, you have to promise that you won’t speak of it to anyone else. Deal?”

  “Fine. Spill.”

  “Meyer, I’m serious. You can’t say anything.”

  “Pinky swear. I’ll take it to my grave if I have to.”

  “He’s dyslexic.”

  She out-and-out gasped. “I knew it!”

  “You knew it?”

  “He’s totally played on your sympathy! I’m
telling you, Stockholm! Jack has you thinking he’s really just some misunderstood, struggling rebel from the wrong side of the tracks-”

  “That’s not at all what I think,” I countered. “And thank you for the confidence, by the way. Good to know you have faith in my reasoning skills. I’m not that naïve!”

  “Oh, come on. It’s a total play on egos here. He’s everything that a girl like you craves!”

  I laughed loudly over her words, hoping that I could convince myself of my own disbelief in her statement.

  “Admit it! What woman doesn’t secretly fantasize about a gorgeous rebel who promises danger, excitement, and thrills? You’ve lived your whole life by the rules and order and he threatens that logic, which at least intrigues you. Not to mention, you’ve got this whole rescuer’s syndrome.”

  “Rescuer’s syndrome?”

  “Every good girl who’s afflicted with a case of the ‘bad boy’ has this condition. She believes that he’s capable of better, and she swears that she’ll be the one to save him from himself and the error of his ways.”

  “You really need to lay off the Cosmopolitan articles.”

  “Tell me I’m wrong.”

  I pinched the grip of the steering wheel under my nails. “Fine, you’re not wholly wrong, but that doesn’t mean I’m about to dismiss all commonsense to fall head over heels onto his mattress. Relationships like that never last, and I’m not about to take the gamble on someone whose past is shrouded with lethal secrets,” I said.

  Chapter 20

  Out of My Face

  There were still a handful of cars in the parking lot when I pulled up to the school after Gwen and I grabbed a bite to eat. I dropped her off by the Saturn and bid her a good evening. Heading back out onto Main Street, I rode through the constant congestion until I finally reached the Rockhouse.

  “You call for a ride?” I shouted out, stepping through the back door.

  “Hey, Cass,” greeted my dad. “You mind waiting a few minutes? I’ve just gotta finish up.”

  “No problem. I’ll be out back.”

  I climbed down the stairs and made my way over to the Buick. The air was cool and calm, and only the sound of my boots clacking on the asphalt proved to me that I still had my hearing. So when a hand silently grabbed hold of my shoulder from behind, I shrieked as I whirled around.