On a Quiet Street

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On a Quiet Street Page 22

by J. L. Doucette


  “Our families made a pact to keep quiet about the drinking. They were afraid if people knew the boys got drunk the night before, they would be less sympathetic. But we all knew about it.”

  “So they were hung over the next day?”

  “Yeah. So their instincts and coordination were off. But regardless, the biggest factor seemed to be that the knots didn’t hold.”

  “I’m surprised Father Bellamy didn’t check them.”

  “Supposedly he did, but then they’re all readjusting those things as they go along. I guess it was hard to know. And then the weather shifted; it started raining so hard it caused flash floods that closed the road and delayed rescue getting to them.”

  “It sounds like destiny, all those complicating factors coming together at the same time.”

  Kelly stared out at the horizon. “I always felt sorry for Connor. He’s the only one who got out of it without an injury, but he’s also the only one who’s had to live with the memory forever. I wish I knew the truth about all the stuff Jack said—seeing him with someone else, a guy no less. You can’t trust Jack, especially since he wanted Stacey for himself. He probably made the whole thing up.”

  “You and Jack dated. What do you think of him?”

  “You mean as a killer? Does he have it in him? It’s kind of scary to admit, but he definitely has a wild side, and there’s passion in him, right under the surface, all the time. And sometimes it comes out in a good way—you know, all sexy and hot—and sometimes it comes out where he needs to hurt someone.”

  “How long did you go out with him?”

  “Too long, but it’s always too long with a guy like him. Off and on for a year since I started at the club. I’m done with him now, but honestly it ended before he started up with Stacey, I just didn’t know it.” She shrugged. “I’m not saying it didn’t bother me, because it did. She was my friend, and he didn’t get that it made a difference. So screw him. It would never have worked out for him and Stacey. She was too good for him.”

  “Was Stacey too good for Connor?”

  “I used to think they were perfect for each other. But now I don’t know. And Max didn’t help.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Maybe he told you in therapy. I know you can’t talk about it because of what he says being private. He told me about all the memories coming back in therapy—the old priest molesting the three of them when they were little innocent kids. It makes me sick. I knew a few things Tim told me, but that was a long time ago and after he died I tried to forget about it. It’s the new stuff I’m still trying to get used to. I mean, if any of it is true. With Max dead, we’ll never know.”

  “What new stuff?”

  “Connor and Father Bellamy.”

  “What about them?”

  “The two of them hooking up.”

  “So Bellamy was abusing Connor?” Max’s dream came flooding back to me. Perhaps it was a real memory after all.

  “Not exactly. Max said Connor was into it too, didn’t see it as abuse. You look surprised to hear this.”

  “I am. It’s news to me.”

  “Like I said, if it’s true. I never thought Max would kill himself, even though he struggled so damn hard all these years. I heard it in his voice: it messed him up thinking about Connor and Father Bellamy. But how could he be sure, after ten years of not remembering anything, that it’s true?”

  I reached for my phone. “Detective Antelope needs to hear this.”

  CHAPTER 57

  His uncle had taught him everything he knew about women: how to get them, how to handle them, how to let them go when they got to be too much trouble. He wished he could talk to Val now, but his uncle had given strict orders to stay away, saying he didn’t want to get charged with murder.

  When he went back to Rock Springs the day of the funeral, Val told him the girl had come home and started working again—and, best of all, she hadn’t pressed charges. He couldn’t afford to catch another domestic case. Three strikes and you’re out, saddled with a felony charge.

  “Stay away and let things calm down here,” Val said. “If you get arrested for anything, who knows what the girl will do—jump on the bandwagon, add the domestic violence charge on top of it.”

  He’d become what he’d vowed never to be: a man who seduced the woman of the house he worked on. He knew many contractors who took up with the wives of wealthy men who paid them big money to renovate their homes. The fortunate ones escaped without a problem; the affair took place for the length of the job, then the contractor moved on, the woman happy with the work and the husband who paid for it. In other cases, the contractor won the woman over, and she divorced the husband, took his money, and married her new toy. But marriages between contractor and client rarely ended in happily ever after.

  What could you expect? Things begun in secret were destined to end badly. So Jack had steered clear of that scenario and focused on his goal of making money and building a reputation.

  In a town as small as Rock Springs, you only got one chance. One wrong turn, one bad decision in the construction game, and you were done; a mistake like that could mean the end of business.

  Until he met Stacey, he’d turned down every offer of romance that came to him through his work.

  Val had taught him women could suck you in like quicksand, seduce you with their beauty and need. Get too close and you could lose your footing and be stuck forever.

  The prophecy played out—stuck in a crummy motel in Salt Lake City, eating the same crappy meals every day from the same crappy local places. He kept the truck hidden and he didn’t drive because he didn’t want to take a chance the license plate would be spotted. But he walked the city for hours in his baseball cap and sunglasses, stopping for coffee, eating out, getting exercise. Like being in prison but without the walls. Funny, since he was doing all this to avoid jail.

  Boredom set in after the first day. Ordinarily he dealt with boredom by fantasizing about women and masturbating. He tried to picture Stacey—the times they made love in that big empty house, the radio on and the door locked.

  No matter how hard he tried, the only image that came: Stacey lifeless on the floor. Never again would he make love to her—or, he realized, get off thinking of her.

  He tried not to feel sorry for himself. He could still masturbate while picturing Kelly and Sharnelle and sometimes the two of them together—hot girls both of them, he couldn’t complain.

  The first few days, he’d come and gone from the motel without too much care. But all that had changed a few days before when he’d noticed the deputies across the street. They were keeping a steady watch on the place—predators tracking their prey.

  Since then he’d stayed inside with the blinds closed and the air conditioner going full blast. He watched the news three times a day for updates on the case. Every day the coverage was less, the spots shorter.

  Yesterday, the regional news had carried the story of the private funeral of Max Hart, Stacey’s crazy brother. She didn’t talk about him much, only to say he was a head case because of some accident. He’d shot himself in church after making a confession. People were speculating that he’d confessed to his sister’s murder before pulling the trigger.

  And something else caught his attention, too. Something of benefit to him in the event he needed a bargaining chip. Was that . . . ?

  Yes, he was sure of it now. It was the same guy, the one he’d seen come into this very motel with Connor Collins. He’d been caught on camera right in the middle of the small funeral party.

  Jack jumped up, so excited he almost ran out of the room. The exile could end.

  He threw his things in a bag and walked out the door.

  CHAPTER 58

  Antelope listened as Kelly repeated her recollection of the last phone call she’d had with Max on the night he died.

  “He said he and Tim had a plan? Did he tell you the plan?”

  “No. He was upset but also excited. He couldn’t
wait to talk to Connor about it.”

  Antelope looked at me and I gave him a slight nod. Connor had said nothing about this when we talked with him two days before in his apartment.

  His phone vibrated and he checked the caller before answering, “Antelope here. When? I’ll be there. Reserve the big interview room for six o’clock. Great timing. Helpful to have that going in. Thanks.” He set the phone down and looked at me. “The Salt Lake County Sheriff’s Office apprehended Jack Swailes this morning and processed the extradition paperwork. Salt Lake City deputies are en route, transporting him to the state line now. Our deputies will meet them and take custody of him.”

  “How did they find him?”

  “They did a stakeout at the Spring Grove. Swailes went to the lobby for the free continental breakfast, bought the paper, and went back to his room. A few minutes later, they had him in custody. He didn’t put up a fight. He told them he had some important information in the murder case. Coincidentally, the DNA results from his cigarette came back. They match with specimens taken from the body.”

  I almost clapped my hands with excitement. “Finally, a break.”

  “Maybe he’s going to confess,” Kelly said.

  “We’ll know soon enough. Meanwhile, I want to set up a meeting between you and Connor.”

  Kelly frowned. “Why me? I’m not sure I want to talk to Connor. I’m scared. Max met with him and ended up dead. I’m not saying there’s a direct connection, but things are getting kind of weird. I don’t know who I can trust anymore.”

  He put her phone on the table. “Here, take a look. Thirteen texts since I left here. I’d like to know what’s on Connor’s mind and why he’s insisting on seeing you. If I bring him in for questioning at this point, I have no doubt he’ll lawyer up. But he’s got his own agenda here, and I can prepare you to get the information we need from him. Will you do it? Will you help us out, Kelly?”

  “Like undercover work?”

  “Sort of.”

  “I’m scared.”

  “Is this safe?” I asked.

  “Don’t worry,” Antelope said. “We’ll be nearby.”

  “These are the kinds of things people say can’t go wrong but they do go wrong. I’m scared.” Kelly gave me a pleading look. “What do you think I should do?”

  “A few minutes ago you said you didn’t know who you can trust,” I said gently. “There’s one thing I’m certain of, Kelly. You can trust Detective Antelope.”

  Kelly thought for a minute and nibbled on her right thumb-nail. “You owe me a manicure when this is over. All right, I’ll do it for Stacey and Max.”

  “It’s a deal,” Antelope said, satisfied. He put Kelly’s phone back in his pocket. “Sit tight until I finish up with Swailes, and I’ll get back to you with a plan. In the meantime, the same rules apply. Nobody leaves this house.”

  CHAPTER 59

  On the drive to the Detention Center, Antelope wondered what Swailes would say. He hoped to get a confession out of him. But Swailes as the killer no longer felt right. He still didn’t know why Stacey had died or who had killed her. But the simple explanation Connor Collins had offered the first day—Jack killed Stacey in a crime of passion because she rejected and fired him—sounded overly simplistic now. Sexual energy had certainly given life to the case and maybe Swailes had gotten caught up in it to the point of murder, but something in his gut said otherwise.

  He didn’t want to be around people, so he stopped at Wendy’s for takeout and drove to the edge of the desert and parked. As he ate his chicken sandwich, a freight train came into view, crossed his line of vision, then disappeared over the tracks headed west. The whole thing took less than ten minutes, yet he felt soothed. He realized for the second time in a week that these small, ordinary moments were what got him through the tough spots of his work.

  Antelope went in angry. The way he saw it, he couldn’t feel anything else. If Jack Swailes ended up adding nothing to the investigation, they’d wasted time, effort, and money on searching for him and hauling him back to Wyoming. And if he did know something, he’d delayed and compromised the investigation by running away.

  Inside the interview room, the air was warm and sour with the smells of cigarette smoke and body odor. One look at Swailes told him the man was scared; he was slouched in the chair, hands folded on the table, fingernails bitten down to the quick, blue eyes hooded and wary.

  His attorney, a stocky man in blue jeans and a white shirt with a bolo tie, stood up and removed his black Stetson.

  “Hello Detective, I’m Calvin Smithson; I’m representing Mr. Swailes and am here to advise him today.”

  Antelope recognized him from the halls of the courthouse. Val Campion kept the guy on retainer to handle all his business and legal matters.

  “Please have a seat, Mr. Smithson.”

  Antelope turned on the video and audio, stated the identifying details of the interview, and read Swailes his Miranda warning.

  “Mr. Swailes, you are being questioned in relation to a homicide,” he said, getting ready to dive in.

  “Before you begin your questioning, Detective, my client has some information to share with you which he believes to be pertinent to the investigation,” Smithson piped up.

  Antelope felt his blood pressure rising. He took a deep breath. It took an arrest for this character to come forward with a potentially useful lead?

  “Go ahead.”

  “We’d like it on the record that if this information proves useful, the Sheriff’s Department will reconsider my client’s status. Mr. Swailes is currently being held on charges of obstructing justice. When we are assured the charges will be dropped, my client will not hesitate to cooperate.”

  Antelope contained his rage. “Let’s get this straight, Counselor. I’m investigating a homicide. Your client found the body. I instructed him to report for fingerprinting and instead he left the state. It’s taken a week to locate and apprehend him—a waste of our human resources and funds expended. No deal.”

  “Proceed with your questions, Detective.” Smithson sat back in his chair. “I advise my client to withhold voluntary assistance at this time.”

  Jack waved his arms back and forth as if he was flagging down a car on the road. “No, no, stop. You’re making things worse for me, man.” He shot Smithson a dirty look. “I don’t want any trouble. And this thing I’m about to tell you, I didn’t know it when I left town. So it’s not like I’ve been holding back or holding you up.”

  “What information, Mr. Swailes? Whatever it is, it better be worth my time, because it’s long overdue.”

  “I know you got the word on where I spotted Connor Collins with a dude in Salt Lake, because otherwise you wouldn’t have known to come looking for me there. Now I know who the other guy is.”

  “I need a name.”

  “I saw him on the TV. The news ran a story on the guy who killed himself in church. They said it was Stacey’s brother. They showed a picture of everybody at the grave. I recognized him the minute I saw it. It’s the same guy who I saw going into the room with Collins. It’s the priest.”

  “Father Bellamy?” Antelope asked.

  Swailes shrugged. “Whatever priest was at that funeral, he’s the one.”

  CHAPTER 60

  All the way back to town, Antelope kept trying to work out scenarios to get to the truth without anyone else getting hurt. Could it be true Father Bellamy and Connor Collins were involved in an ongoing sexual relationship?

  And if they were in a sexual relationship now, did that mean Max’s memories were accurate and it had been going on for years? It sounded too bizarre to be true.

  The two men were both highly intelligent and skilled in argument and persuasion. He decided the only thing to do was to separate them. Pepper could take one of them and he could take the other.

  It wouldn’t work to do the interviews at the station. They’d lawyer up and it would be the end of it for the day, maybe forever. He still couldn’t say e
xactly how, but he was sure this was related to Stacey Hart’s murder.

  He called Our Lady of Sorrows.

  “Good evening, Our Lady of Sorrows Church, Sister Julia speaking, how may we help?”

  “Hello, Sister Julia. Is Father Bellamy available?”

  “Not at the moment, no, but I believe he’ll be back soon. Can I take a message?”

  “Let him know that Dr. Pepper Hunt will be by later this evening to discuss some new developments in the Stacey Hart case with him, will you?”

  “Absolutely, Detective.”

  “Thank you, Sister.”

  Pepper was the best person to talk to the priest.

  Now, to have Kelly take a crack at Connor.

  He drove the ten miles back to Rock Springs under a sky studded with stars. Their distant fire traveled from light years beyond and warmed his heart. An idea burned within him, fueled him for the remaining fight, on a trajectory that was finally moving him toward the answers in this baffling, tortured case.

  Pepper and Kelly waited for him outside on the deck, under the same sky that spoke to him with its brilliance. They looked beautiful and serene lounging and looking up at the lavish stars.

  “You did good, Detective, brought me to the right place.” Kelly smiled. “I could stay here forever.”

  “Someday soon we can do this for pleasure—sit out here under the stars and enjoy a summer dinner together,” Pepper said.

  His absence had clearly had a positive effect on the women, released them from the ceaseless, buzzing current his work created.

  “That’s a plan,” he said. “But not tonight’s plan.”

  At the same time, they both sat forward and gave him their full attention, ready for whatever came next. Two pairs of intelligent eyes, Kelly’s the blue of a robin’s egg and Pepper’s the color of a new penny. It was the trust he saw there that got to him. What was he leading them into on this summer night?

  “Things just got more interesting,” he said.

 

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