by Kelly Irvin
The interior of Ms. Patterson’s house matched its occupant. Cheap Mexican pottery purchased in Reynosa or Matamoros served as ashtrays strung from table to table, room to room. Mexican rugs covered scarred vinyl floors. Dime store variety artwork on the walls featured beach scenes of sand dunes, seashells, and high tide under starry skies. A ceiling fan made a tink-tink sound as it relocated dank, warm air. The aroma of tuna mingled with cigarette smoke and dirty cat litter. This time the cat turned out to be a chubby tortoiseshell mommy with soulful eyes and two kittens who followed her into the room and immediately fled upon seeing their owner’s guests.
Deidre had the leathery skin of a person who’d enjoyed the Corpus beaches too often. White hair crept from her part and mingled with brown hair caught back in a lanky ponytail. Her eyes were a dusky brown.
“Leo Slocum was the love of my life.” Deidre sucked on the cigarette and released the smoke in a steady stream through her nose. “I imagine he was the love of several women’s lives. I met him at the Surf and Turf over on Ocean Drive. I was a waitress there. Good tips, decent customers. Nobody pinched my behind or tried to look down my shirt when I served their steak. Not so I noticed leastwise.
“Leo liked his seafood. He came in every couple of months at first. He always sat in my section. Clean-shaven, smelled good, clean fingernails, decent teeth, tipped me good.” Hacking up a wet, rattling cough, she studied the glowing tip of her cigarette. When the coughing stopped, she drew a ragged breath. “Excuse me while I hack up a lung.”
Joe Cruz stood. “Would you like me to get you a glass of water?”
“Aren’t you a gentleman?” Deidre unfolded her legs and pushed away from the recliner. She waved him back into his seat. “I’ve got just the ticket.”
She returned a few seconds later with a glass half full of amber liquid. Unless Corpus Christi had a contaminated water system, her drink did not involve water. Nor did she offer any refreshments to her visitors. “Where was I?”
“You met Slocum—Leo—at the Surf and Turf,” Dad said. “What year was that?”
“Who knows? I was twenty-four. Do the math.” She cocked her head as if thinking hard. “I bombed out of community college after high school. Too much weed, too many hours working, and not enough sleep. I planned to go to cosmetology school, but I never did, not after I met Leo.
“He talked to me like a real person. He’d read interesting tidbits to me from the newspaper while he ate his key lime pie. He had a thing for that pie. Pretty soon he started coming in more often and staying longer. My boss got irritated. He said I was spending too much time on one customer, so Leo suggested he pick me up after my shift and we could talk somewhere else.
“He bought me drinks at a bar on North Shore Drive. We danced. He was a good dancer. One thing led to another.” She shrugged. “Then he was gone again. He left me a note on the nightstand saying he had to finish his route, but he would be back in a couple of weeks. He sold stuff to eye doctors all over the Valley. Made good money. I could tell by how nice his clothes were, and he had a nice watch and a bundle of bills in his wallet. Not that I looked, but he took it out to pay for our drinks.
“Sure enough. He showed up at my place—I had an apartment in those days—every six or seven weeks. I started to look forward to those visits. I lived for them. My girlfriends said I was crazy. They were sure he was married. But I never had a guy treat me so nice. It wasn’t always dancing and drinks. Sometimes he brought me flowers and he gave me jewelry. Nice stuff, not costume crap.
“Then he stopped showing up for a while. But he called. Until then I didn’t have any way to get in touch with him. It was all a one-way street. But he gave me a number and told me to only call it in case of an emergency.”
“Did you think he was married?” Daring to break the flow of memories, Teagan had to ask. How could she not? “Did it bother you?”
“I figured as much. I’m not an idiot. I just wanted to believe in the fairy tale a little longer. I thought maybe he would divorce her and marry me.” She gulped from her drink and set it with a clink on the metal TV tray next to her chair. “I know how selfish that sounds, but growing up in Corpus is different from hopping in for a visit to the beach on spring break. Or renting a condo for a week on Aransas Pass. Eating shrimp and getting sunburned while you play in the water. Most of us just grub out a living off the tourists. We can’t afford to rent a condo with beach access. We serve your food and clean your hotel rooms. If we can get work.”
“So what happened?”
“I got pregnant.” She stabbed her cigarette into an overflowing ashtray. “And no, it wasn’t on purpose. He never made me feel like he doubted that either. But he told me there was nothing he could do, other than pay to get rid of it. But I wouldn’t do that. I went to Catholic school as a kid.”
“Did he seem like he wanted you to keep it?”
“He came to the apartment one night, late. Said he couldn’t stay. He was wearing a gold band on his finger. First time. He sat next to me on the couch and took out his wallet. He showed me a photo of him and his wife and their babies. A boy and a girl.”
Deidre’s face crumpled as if the crushing of her dreams had happened moments ago and not more than two decades. The pain was real and fresh on her face. Teagan glanced at the two men. His expression uncomfortable, Cruz shifted in his chair. Dad resembled a tree trunk—immovable, implacable. Fine, this was a conversation between two women, years apart in age and experiences, but women. “That’s rough. What did you do?”
“I bawled. I told him I’d do anything for him, just don’t leave me alone.”
“But he did.”
“He ended up sticking around for the night, to comfort me. I made him eggs and bacon in the morning. He liked his eggs over easy. He showed up once in a while at first, even after the baby was born. But it was never the same. It was like he wasn’t attracted to me anymore.” She lifted her drink to dry, chapped lips and drained her glass. “He seemed more taken with my kid, though. He brought clothes and once a baseball mitt. He said the kid had his eyes.”
The kid. “What was his name?”
“Who?”
“Your baby.”
“Kyle. I named him Kyle. But who knows what his parents call him.”
“His parents?”
“After a while, Leo stopped showing up altogether. I tried calling him, but he didn’t return my call. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t. Kyle was a sickly kid. I needed to work. I couldn’t afford decent day care. Then I finally met a guy, a guy who wasn’t married to someone else. Kyle cried all the time. He had colic, then croup, and allergies, and he never slept through the night, even when he was old enough to know better. Always coming out of his room, always busting into my room. Peter didn’t like it. No privacy. He said he needed to sleep good at night, on account of he worked at a loading dock all day. It was hard work.”
“So you gave Kyle up for adoption? How old was he?”
“Four when CPS took him. He was in the foster system for a while. Then a couple adopted him after I gave up my rights.”
Old enough to remember his mother. Old enough to feel unwanted. He’d been neglected or even abused or Child Protective Services would not have been involved. Teagan’s empathy for the mother drained away, replaced by empathy for a child who’d been, by his mother’s measure, too much trouble. “You never saw him again?”
“Who? Kyle? Or Leo?”
“Both, I guess. Either.”
“I drove up to San Antonio once and tracked down the office where Leo worked. I sat outside and watched people come and go. I saw him get out of his car and walk inside with a woman. A coworker, I guess. They were laughing and talking. Like we used to do.” The long ashes from her cigarette fell on her lap. Deidre didn’t seem to notice. “At that point, I knew I was over it.”
“And Kyle?”
“Never saw him again. He was better off without me. This way I didn’t have to tell him how he was conceived.”
The startling thought caught Teagan on the chin like a knockout punch from a contender. She wasn’t chicken. She’d come to a reasoned decision about what was best. Better than bringing an unwanted child into the world and giving him away like a sack of ill-fitting clothes.
“Did Slocum’s behavior ever seem erratic or odd to you? Did he ever do anything that struck you as odd?”
Finally, Dad spoke. Teagan leaned back and relaxed.
“He went in the other room to take calls, but I figured it was his wife.” Deidre wrinkled her nose as if she smelled rancid meat. “He used to leave the apartment in the middle of the night. He said he was an insomniac. He would go for walks at midnight, two, three in the morning.”
“And you didn’t think anything of that?” Cruz fingered the cross around his neck. Sweat had soaked through his shirt around the collar. “What year was that? Do you have dates for when he visited and took these walks?”
“Seriously? I barely remember what I had for supper yesterday.” Her laugh sounded more like a bark. “I wasn’t about to question him. The man bought groceries. He gave me gifts. He was good in the sack.”
TMI. Teagan stared at her hands.
Cruz didn’t seem to mind. “Was he ever violent toward you?”
“In the sack—”
“In general.”
“Never. Kind, considerate. Sweet. I still have a photo of us.”
She pointed to the coffee table. The color had started to fade, but the framed photo distinctly showed a couple in love. Leo Slocum, tall, jet-black hair, blue eyes, smiling. Deidre was right. He had nice teeth. He had his arm around her. The image caught on film held little in common with middle-aged Deidre. The tanned young woman wearing a coral sundress radiated joy. She had curves. She had long chestnut hair that lay on her chest in curls.
Such hope.
Dad stood. Cruz looked reluctant, but he did the same. Teagan settled the photo on the table. “What about the man you met after Leo Slocum aban—stopped seeing you?”
“I married him. He was an abusive drunk. He broke my nose. Eventually he left me for a biker chick.”
“No more kids?”
“Two with Peter. One with a one-night stand from Dallas. I have a couple of grandkids. They live in Weslaco.”
“That’s nice. Close enough to visit.” Some people didn’t get happily-ever-afters. Leo Slocum had left his mark here, even if it wasn’t the one they were looking for. She joined the men as they moved toward the door, but something made her stop. “I’m sorry for your hurt. I hope things get better. A woman deserves better.”
“Thank you.” Deidre slurred the words. “I’m not holding my breath.” She rose and staggered toward Teagan. “There was one thing.”
Both men looked back.
“We always had to go places in my car. It was an old beater with a broken AC, and he drove this nice minivan. He said it was a company car with the name on the side so he couldn’t use it for pleasure. Someone would see it parked at a bar, you know.”
“That makes sense, I suppose.”
“One time I walked by his van. It was parked in the slot next to mine in the apartment complex lot. I glanced in, you know, no big deal. There was a butcher knife on the back seat.”
“That’s a little weird.”
“Next to a roll of garbage bags and a shovel. It still had the price tag on it.”
Cruz edged away from the door. “Did you ask him about it?”
“I was scared to, but it was too weird to just let it pass.”
“What did he say?”
“He said he was doing some landscaping at home and picked up some things he needed because he saw a sale. The butcher knife was for cutting meat. He likes to smoke briskets and turkeys.”
Would Deidre tell a different story in the witness box with an attorney bearing down on her? Teagan itched to record the woman’s words with her machine.
3Q. Did you have an affair with the defendant during
4the time period in question while he was working as a
5salesman in the Valley?
6A. Yes, I did.
7Q. Can you tell us if he ever exhibited odd behavior?
8A. I’m sorry? Like what?
9Q. Didn’t you tell the Corpus Christi detective
10the defendant went on long walks late at night?
11A. He had insomnia.
12Q. Didn’t you also tell Detective Cruz you
13saw a shovel and garbage bags on the back seat of his
14car? Along with a butcher knife?
15A. He liked to garden and he barbecued a lot.
16Q. So it’s your testimony you found nothing odd
17about his behavior?
18A. He was—he is a good man.
19Q. Isn’t it true he abandoned you when you got
20pregnant with your child?
Teagan grasped her hands tightly. Someday soon justice would be served. “And you took him at his word?” Incredulity colored Cruz’s words. “You didn’t tell anyone about it? Don’t you the read the papers?”
“I knew about the women who have disappeared or been found dead over the years. But I figured there were plenty of explanations. Boyfriends like Pete. College kids who get so blitzed on spring break they don’t know what they’re doing. Just plain bad choices. Leo was a nice man. Good manners, good-looking. He charmed the pants off a person. Literally. There’s no way he’d ever hurt a woman. I don’t believe it.”
“Believe it.”
Cruz pushed through the door and left Teagan and her father to thank Deidre for her time.
“The Leo I knew wasn’t a killer.” Deidre lobbed the assertion after them. “He treated me like a queen.”
Until he didn’t.
Cruz leaned against his car, picking at a thumbnail. “Can we arrest her for stupidity?”
Dad veered that direction. “Kind of hot under the collar, aren’t you?”
“One of the victims was my aunt.” His morose stare pierced Teagan. “There was a butcher knife involved. Deidre Patterson saw it. So she proceeds to tell us about her love life and what kind of eggs her booty call liked.”
“I’m sorry.” Teagan searched for adequate words of condolence. There were none.
Dad opened a package of Doublemint gum, held it out. Cruz took a piece. Teagan waved it away. Dad chewed and contemplated. “The timing’s right.”
“It still blows my mind that a man can carve up, stab, or otherwise kill women and still have these kinds of relationships with other women.” Teagan faced the tepid breeze and let it blow her hair from her sweaty face. The ways this interview confounded her were too many to outline. Her memories of Corpus, filled with the cry of seagulls and crashing of waves, would forever be tainted by the images Diedre had imparted. “How could Leo have a marriage in San Antonio and a mistress here who bore his child? Why didn’t he kill her?”
“The FBI has been studying serial killers for decades. A lot is known. A lot is conjecture. Interviews were conducted by analysts, not psychiatrists. And there’s much we don’t understand about the human psyche.” Dad wadded up the gum wrapper and stuck it in his pocket. “For some reason, Slocum took a liking to Deidre. We know from the length of his marriage and from the interview with his son that he had the ability to carry on normal relationships. But he had—has—another darker side that he hides from the world.”
“Very well, it seems.”
“I don’t know.” Cruz tugged at his cross. “Not that well. What kind of killer leaves the tools of his trade on the back seat of his company van?”
“You think he wanted her to know?”
“Maybe it was titillating for him to think she might be a little afraid of him, that she might start to imagine what he did with those things. It was part of the game.”
“It’s possible. Then she had a baby and that changed the dynamic. She wasn’t a mistress anymore;
she was a mother. I imagine that took the edge off. He had a lot invested in the relationship, but he already had a wife and kids. He didn’t need more baggage.”
“Dad!”
His grim smile did nothing to lighten the mood. “Spend any time in the heads of psychopaths and you learn something about the way they think.”
“And then you take a shower.” Cruz tugged car keys from his pocket. “Can I interest y’all in dinner before you drive back?”
“Thanks, but we need to get back to the city.”
Teagan stared at the ramshackle home of a woman abandoned by the love of her life. “Leo Slocum has another child out there. I wonder if that ever crosses his mind.”
Dad remote-started the Charger. “It would mine, but I’m not a psychopath. Think about the killer writing your letters. He’s incapable of remorse. He’s incapable of truly caring. He’s a consummate actor who plays a part to get what he wants.” Dad put a hand on her shoulder and walked her to the car. “He and Slocum are likely cut from the same cloth. I doubt he’s given that baby a second thought—or Deidre, for that matter.”
“Should we try to find Kyle?”
“Why? So we can tell him his mother gave him up for an abusive drunk and his father is a suspected serial killer? Sometimes ignorance really is bliss.”
He was right. Maybe Kyle Patterson had a good life somewhere with a pretty wife, kids, and a satisfying job. Maybe he went to church on Sunday and took the family to Montana to hike the Going-to-the-Sun Road in Glacier National Park for a week in June. Maybe he had a dog named Butch and jogged every morning before work. Maybe they had tickets to Disney World this summer.
To be ignorant of butcher knives, murder, and mayhem would be a gift. It would be a sin to take that from a man.
28
Max met Teagan at the door. Her door, but it still felt husbandly. Her father waved and pulled away from the driveway. The relief that he’d decided not to pop in for a chat brought with it guilt. Max had no reason not to chat with Dillon. He wasn’t shacking up with her. Simply providing backup. Dillon should be happy about that. Of course, he didn’t know Teagan had insisted Max lock his gun in her document safe instead of placing it in the nightstand next to the guest bed. In the event of an intruder it would do no good.