by Ellen Hart
“Since I can’t prove anything, I don’t want to get into specifics, but yes, that’s my working theory. Removing Sam from the picture meant that there were no witnesses to what happened, except for you, the victim, and the perpetrator. I think they bet on you staying silent.”
“Yes, I see that.”
“I know it’s years after the fact and that there’s a statute of limitations on rape cases, but if you were asked to make a formal statement, would you?”
“I’m not sure how much weight it would carry, but I would. Without hesitation.”
Jane was glad to hear it.
Becca turned as a voice said, “You’ve got a call.” Returning to Jane, she said “I’m sorry. I have to take this.”
“Thanks for your time,” said Jane.
“Please, stay in touch,” said Becca. “I like to think there’s some justice in this world, even if it’s delayed.”
33
“We appreciate you coming down to the station,” said Sgt. Bobby Saltus, his legs splayed wide as he sat on a rolling chair.
“Happy to do it.” Kurt was finding it impossible not to fidget. Dave had called him last night to tell him that he’d be sitting in on the interview today. “Interview, my ass,” Kurt had responded. When the cops called you in, it was an interrogation. He felt certain Dave’s only reason for being in the room was to make sure he didn’t slip up and reveal a piece of the truth. When Kurt asked if Scott Romilly had come in yet, Dave snorted, saying they’d received a letter from his lawyer stating that all questions regarding Mr. Romilly should to be directed to him.
“You and Sam Romilly were friends, right?” asked Saltus.
Kurt nodded.
“You gotta answer audibly, man, otherwise the recording can’t pick up your answer.”
“Oh, sure. Yes, I knew him.”
“And Wendell Romilly?”
“I’ve met him. I know he and Sam fought a lot, mostly about Sam’s refusal to follow rules.”
“And Sam’s brother, Scott?”
“He was always kind of a cipher.”
“A what?” asked Saltus.
“He was hard to read.”
“Oh. Okay,” said Saltus, tapping a pen against his thigh. “Did Sam have any enemies?”
“Not that I knew about. Most people liked him.” The questions went on like this for a while, with Saltus taking the lead and Dave remaining silent. Kurt felt thoroughly poked and prodded, though none of the questions touched on anything important. And then Saltus upended the metaphorical table.
“You’re aware that Sam’s remains, along with some other items, were found in Holy Trinity cemetery, right?” He didn’t wait for a response. “One of the items was Sam’s billfold. In the flap behind the cash compartment, we found a ring.” He pulled a tiny plastic sack out of his pocket and waved it at Kurt.
“What’s that?” asked Dave, grabbing for it.
Saltus held it out of reach. “A gold band,” he said, looking pleased with himself.
Kurt had begun to notice some friction between the two men.
“Do you recognize it?” asked Saltus.
“No,” said Kurt. “I’ve never seen it before.”
As soon as he placed it on the table, Dave snatched it.
“There’s an inscription around the inner surface,” continued Saltus. “S.A.R. & K. J. S. Forever. I interpret it this way: Samuel Alan Romilly and Kurt Jacob Steiner forever. What are your thoughts about that, Kurt?”
Kurt’s eyes locked on the ring. He hadn’t heard Sam’s voice in his head for years, but it was there now, pure and deep and clear. He was overwhelmed. “I think—”
“Were you two, like, together?” asked Saltus. “As in gay?”
“Of course they weren’t gay,” said Dave. “He’s married, or he was. He has a kid.”
Saltus didn’t take his eyes off Kurt. “Well?”
Kurt had never imagined it would happen like this, but now that the question had been raised, he refused to deny it. “Yes. We were.”
Dave’s expression froze. “Are you kidding me? What the hell, Steiner?”
“I loved him,” said Kurt.
“And you were, like, doing the nasty?” asked Saltus.
“Whatever we were doing is none of your business.”
“Goddamn,” said Dave. His face flushed. “This is total bullshit.”
“Did you have a lover’s quarrel?” asked Saltus, inching his chair closer to Kurt.
“What? No.”
“Did you find out he was sleeping with someone else? I’ll bet you were, like, red hot about it, ready to get yourself some payback. I mean, he’d betrayed you. Nothing worse than that. I don’t blame you, man. We all know what it’s like.”
“I don’t know where you’re getting this,” said Kurt, “but that never happened.”
“Come on, man. You’ll feel so much better once you tell the truth.”
He couldn’t believe this guy actually thought he was making sense.
“And then there’s the little detail about the revolvers, the ones we found in the grave. I mean, I understand why you wanted to get rid of them. But the blanks? Why load them with duds? Were you just trying to scare him? Did you hold the gun too close?”
“With … blanks?”
“This interview is over,” said Dave, standing up.
“Yeah blanks,” continued Saltus. “There were two blanks in each handgun. One spent, one whole. I need to know why.”
“Cripes,” said Dave, giving Saltus a shove. “You’re an idiot. That’s not information we give out.”
“Ignore him,” said Saltus, rolling his chair even closer.
Kurt didn’t think it was possible to feel shocked by anything that had happened in the woods that morning, but this revelation about the guns sent him reeling.
“We’re done,” said Dave, reaching behind Saltus to turn off the recording.
Feeling confused and utterly overwhelmed, Kurt opted to play Scott Romilly’s card. “I’m leaving,” he said. “If you want to talk to me from here on out, you can contact my lawyer.” The fact that he didn’t have one hardly mattered.
* * *
Coming in the front door of his house a while later, Kurt found his son sitting on the couch, eating a sandwich and listening to music.
“Hey,” said Danny, pulling the earbuds out of his ears. “What the hell happened to you?”
He wondered what had given his emotional state away. “How come you’re home? I thought you worked this afternoon.”
“So,” said Danny, dropping the sandwich on the plate resting in his lap, “I need to tell you about that.”
Kurt was happy to listen to anything that took his mind off the police interrogation.
“Tanya and I are moving in together. Last time I was down in Minneapolis, we found ourselves an apartment. A copy of the apartment lease came in the mail yesterday. It’s cheap, but really cool. It’s not in very good shape, but it’s bigger than here.”
Kurt didn’t know how to respond. He’d always felt bad that their house was so small, but it was what he could afford, and anyway a happy family life didn’t depend on the size of a bedroom. But that wasn’t the real issue. “I had no idea you intended to leave.”
Danny moved to the edge of the couch. “I’ve never made a secret of not wanting to spend my life here.”
“I know, but—”
“It’s time, Dad. Tanya is sick of living with her aunt. She’s making good money as a bartender, and I found out last night that the job I applied for in Bloomington wants to hire me.”
“What job?”
“A security guard. That pay isn’t a lot, but with Tanya’s take it’s enough to cover our expenses. We figure if we save for a couple of years, we can quit our jobs and spend some time traveling, seeing the world. You could even stay with us when you come down. I mean, you’re in the Cities at least once a month. Lately, even more. Come on. Don’t be upset. I know it comes out of the blue, but it
’s for the best.”
Kurt lowered his head for a few seconds, then looked back up. “You’re right. I’m happy for you. It all sounds great.”
“The thing is, I’m also kind of worried.”
“About what?”
“That … if I’m not here, you’ll be lonely.”
“Oh, Danny,” said Kurt. If he ever needed proof that he’d raised a great kid, this was it. “You don’t need to worry about me.”
“But I do.”
He gripped the arms of his chair. Maybe this was the opening he’d been looking for. He had so many secrets, but this one took precedence. “There’s something I’ve been wanting to talk to you about.” He paused, trying form just the right words. In the end, he simply said it. “I’m gay, son. In fact, Ted and I have been together for many years.”
Danny blinked, hesitated, and then smiled. “Oh, hell, Dad, I know that.”
“You do?”
“Give me some credit. I’m not a moron.”
He wanted more. But mostly, he was relieved. “I didn’t want to tell you before because I hated to think you’d feel like you needed to live in reaction to me.”
“Dad, please. The world has changed, at least for my generation. You see it as this big deal, a secret to be guarded at all cost, but it’s not. It’s just who you are.”
“God, but I love you.”
“Since we’re telling secrets, I’ve got one, too. You can’t get mad, okay?”
“Okay.” Kurt would have promised him anything.
“I smoke. Cigarettes. If you can be gay, I can smoke. In fact, I need one right now.”
As he walked to the front door, he put a hand on his father’s shoulder. “All good?”
“All good, son.”
34
Jane made her way along the dirt path toward the clearing. She found Kurt sitting on a tree trunk, just where he said he’d be. “I got your text,” she said, sitting down next to him.
“Thanks for meeting me.”
“Why here?” she asked.
“I wanted someplace private. And … because this is where it happened. I’ve been such a fool, Jane. I don’t even know where to start.” He rose, moving a few feet away. “I was interrogated by the police this morning. During the interview, I was given a piece of information that absolutely froze my blood. What I thought happened to Sam that morning … it was all a lie.”
Jane’s heart sped up. “I don’t understand.”
“It was an execution, Jane. Right in front of my eyes, and I never saw it.”
A shiver passed through her.
“Look,” he said, squeezing the back of his neck, “I should be telling this to the police, I know, but because of Dave Tamborsky, I can’t. As I see it, you’re the only person who’s really been looking into Sam’s murder. The police investigation is a sham.” He began to pace. “Dave told me that they’d received an anonymous letter telling them to talk to Jim Hughes, Darius Porter, Scott Romilly, and me. I believe it was just a way to muddy the waters, to give the cops something to do that would have absolutely no meaning.”
“You’ve lost me,” said Jane.
“Hughes knows nothing. Neither does Darius or Scott. The only one who does know what happened is me, and whoever wrote the letter—I think it was Monty Mickler—was counting on me to keep my mouth shut. I was there the morning Sam died, Jane, so I bear some of the blame. When this all comes out, and it will, I’ll probably go to prison.”
This wasn’t a time for recordings or note taking. Jane needed Kurt to stay in the moment, with no distractions. “Why do you think it was Mickler not Dave who sent it?”
“Because Dave isn’t that devious. He’s not an idea guy, he’s a follower. Mickler has always been the driving force in what happened. I see that now. Look, I realize you’re only a podcaster, but you seem serious about getting to the truth. That’s why I wanted to talk to you.”
Jane couldn’t believe her luck.
“This may take a few minutes.”
“I’m in no hurry.”
He nodded, sitting back down. “Okay, it all began with Becca’s rape. You already know about that. She refused to press charges against Dave. Sam couldn’t stand the idea that Dave would get away with it, so he went to him, told him that if he didn’t tell the police what happened, Sam would. Mickler showed up right about then. When he caught the drift of what was being said, he laughed at Sam, said even if Becca herself talked to the cops, nothing would come of it. Dave could just say it was consensual. They were both drunk and stupid, but that’s all. It was his word against hers.
“If Sam had a weakness, it was his need for justice. He’d been sexually assaulted by an older man when he was in his early teens. He knew how it felt. That guy got away with it, but if Sam had anything to do with it, Dave wouldn’t. He came up with this idea of a duel. They’d find some guns and square off in the woods.”
“Dave agreed?”
“Not right away, although he was as hotheaded as Sam. He and Mickler met with him the next day and brought their own spin. They’d asked this guy, Ty Niska, to get them two matching handguns and a bunch of ammunition. They’d each have a few days to practice their shots, and then they’d meet here, in this clearing, at daybreak the following Saturday morning. Ty would be here to load the guns and do the countdown.” He stopped and looked up. “I can’t believe anybody’s that crazy.”
“How were the stakes defined?”
Kurt rose and began, once again, to pace. “If Sam won, Dave would go to the police and confess. If Dave won, Sam agreed to never bring the subject up again. No talking to the cops or anyone else about it. Ever.”
“What did winning look like?”
“If one of them was shot, that was a win.”
“And if nobody was shot?”
“There were supposed to be two rounds in each revolver. If nothing happened with the first shot, they’d repeat it, countdown and all. If nothing happened the second time, it would be considered a draw. In that case, they’d have to agree to another duel, or some other way to settle the matter.”
“Like what?”
“It was never specified, at least to me.” Kurt picked up a stick and began to break it in pieces. “You’re going to hear this soon enough, so I might as well tell you. Sam and I were lovers.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “You’re gay? I … I guess I have terrible gaydar.”
He looked like he might say more, but left it there.
“You said you were with Sam when he died. How did you get involved?”
“Sam had been nervous as a cat the last few days before the duel. I could tell something was up, though I had no idea what. He called me at home the night before, said he had to talk to me, but he couldn’t do it until the following morning. He told me to meet him just before sunup at the graveyard behind Holy Trinity. It all seemed very covert, like we were in a spy novel. He also said he had a gift for me, something special, so I better show up. He made me promise—no, not promise, swear—that I’d be on time. Honestly, he scared me. So I got there early and was waiting for him when he arrived. That’s when he told me the whole thing. Needless to say, I was appalled. I tried to talk him out of it. I begged him to come home with me so we could figure out another way to make Dave pay. He wouldn’t even consider it. He needed me to be his ‘second,’ to be another pair of eyes and ears, just to make sure Dave didn’t try anything funny. Mickler was Dave’s second. Sam seemed so desperate. He wanted me there with him. I couldn’t say no. The last thing Sam said to me before we walked into the clearing was that he doubted most guys could hit the broad side of a barn when they were nervous. That I shouldn’t worry.”
“What was the gift?” asked Jane. She didn’t want to interrupt his story, but she didn’t want that detail getting lost.
“I’d completely forgotten about that part of our conversation until this morning. During my interview with Saltus … he showed me a gold band that was found in Sam’s wallet. Sam had our in
itials engraved on the inside. And the word forever.” He folded his arms and bent over, clearly in pain.
Jane started to get up, but he held out his hand. “No,” he said, his other hand pressed to his eyes. It took nearly a minute before he straightened up. “I never expected to hear from Sam again. I can’t begin to tell you what that felt like.”
Watching him, Jane’s heart nearly broke.
“Anyway,” he said, his face turned up to the sky. “Everything happened very quickly after that. While Niska was loading the revolvers, Mickler began to clutch his stomach, like he was about to throw up. Just before Sam and Dave walked their ten paces away, he said something like, ‘I’m gonna puke.’ He ran into the woods. Because I felt the same way, I didn’t think anything of it.
“Niska waited until they were in position, then counted, one, two—and then, when he said three, there was this loud discharge. I couldn’t believe it when I saw Sam fall. We all ran over to him, but even at a distance, I could tell he was gone. His—” Kurt’s voice broke. “His … head wasn’t … part of it was missing. I collapsed next to him and held him, rocking him, whispering to him. Niska took off running and never came back. Mickler, at that point, was still missing. Dave stood over us, the revolver at his side. When I looked up, I saw that he was crying, too. He just kept saying stuff like, ‘I didn’t mean, I didn’t know, I never wanted…’ Mickler eventually appeared and more or less took charge. He said he and Dave had prepared a place in Holy Trinity cemetery, ‘in case the worst happened.’ His words. They’d dug under the grave of a woman scheduled for burial that morning. I remember being amazed that they’d thought so far ahead. But even in a daze, I was angry. I told Mickler we had to talk to the police. He leaned down very close to my face and said that wasn’t going to happen. We were all in it together. Did I want to spend the rest of my life in prison? It was still early, maybe an hour after sunup, so Mickler insisted there was nothing to worry about. Nobody would be in the cemetery at this time of day. It was risky, I guess, but he and Dave must have felt they could get away with it.