by Julie Vail
“Yeah, a positive report on cheating is definitely a deal breaker, but really . . . no.”
“What, then?”
“I didn’t like who I was when I was with him, and at the end of the day he became someone I could no longer respect.”
“Why?”
She sighed. “Because deep down he isn’t a good person.” She took a sip of her martini, and I couldn’t keep my eyes off her hand as she held the glass.
“Are you being deliberately vague?” I asked, a little irritated.
“Yes, I guess I am. It’s a part of my past I don’t wish to revisit, but you need to know this for some reason.”
“Was he rich?” She shook her head and looked down at her drink. I could see her getting more annoyed by the second.
“He has money, yes.”
“But he couldn’t keep you happy?” I took a big sip of my drink because I suddenly didn’t like how I was sounding. I wasn’t sure I wanted any more answers but I couldn’t seem to stop myself from asking the questions.
She shook her head and looked over my head at nothing. “It’s more complicated than that, John.”
“Then explain it to me.”
“I don’t need boatloads of money to keep me happy. I grew up with it and believe me when I tell you it doesn’t buy happiness.”
“But it helps.”
“I suppose it helps, yes.” She paused and stared into her drink, and then she looked up at me. “What’s this all about, John?”
“I guess I’m trying to figure out if what I have to offer you is enough, Karen.”
“You’re trying to figure out what I see in you? Isn’t that really what you’re saying? You’re a cop and I’m a doctor, so what could I possibly want with you?”
I shrugged. “Maybe. I have a house, I have a car, I have a good job, and I’ll retire someday and be comfortable. But at the end of the day, I am a cop. A good one. I’m happy with that. I guess I’m wondering if that life style will be enough for you.”
“And you really think that’s all there is to it, that I’m interested only if I’m dripping in jewels and driving a nice car? And what makes you think that I want, or expect, all of those things to come from you?” She tossed the napkin she’d been crushing in her hand, down on the table. “Let me tell you something: I rarely meet men like you. They’re either too self-focused, or they want another mother. You . . . you own yourself. You’re not afraid to speak your mind, you’re not afraid to go toe to toe with me.”
I caressed the back of her hand. “No, I’m not.”
“I like that. It makes me feel secure. And, you have a good heart.” She chuckled without humor and shook her head. “You want to talk about Adam? I have a jewelry box full of trinkets that he’d shower me with every time he acted like a shit. I feel like maybe you have a little more to offer me than that, otherwise I wouldn’t be here. I love what you do, and I have great respect for you. I thought we’d been over this. And how did we get from our little weekend to this?”
I was silent for a minute. “I don’t know. I’m sorry.” I was about to let the whole thing drop, clearly the wisest of decisions, when, for reasons I still can’t fathom, I decided to keep going.
“How long were you with him?”
She sighed. “Clearly you’re not all that sorry.”
“Just tell me how long, and then I’ll drop it.”
“Seven years.”
“Wow.”
“We done?”
“Yes. I’m sorry.” I shrugged. “I didn’t know any of this, and now I do. Thank you.” I took her hand, brought it up to my lips, and kissed each finger.
“Quid pro quo, detective.”
“Excuse me?”
“My turn now,” she said. “Tell me about your ex-wife.”
SEVENTEEN
The police officer stood across the street and watched as a teenaged boy walked out the door and down the steps. He was close to sixteen now, the officer thought. He looked like his father. The boy would not go to school today, like his mother believed. This was a fact. He will meet friends in the park and they will hang out, smoke pot, throw a football around. The police officer followed him on foot as he turned the corner and headed for the park.
Hey, Rick! Ricky! his friends called out. The police officer watched the boy go into the park and meet up with several boys and a few girls. He saw him heading down a path of no return and there was nothing he could do about it. He would have to try. His father would have wanted that.
A police car pulled up and the officer inside called out.
Hey John! He got out of the car and joined his partner on the sidewalk outside the park.
Rick Callahan. A real shitbag, Him and all his shitbag friends. Should we haul his ass in? Callahan. The Italian kid with the Irish name. Victoria found a man who wasn’t married to love her. Good. The police officer with the red hair wondered what good hauling him in would do. He wondered if maybe he should talk to the boy, try to reason with him. Maybe he can keep one less kid out of the slam.
Especially when that kid was his brother.
It was close to noon the next day by the time the warrants came through. We went to the house in Westchester and had Matt Chambliss in handcuffs while we searched the room David Crane was scheduled to occupy, had his life not been taken. I tried to keep that in mind as I searched through stuff strewn all over the room that now belonged to a kid named Kerry Price. He was annoyed. I didn’t care. I was finding that blood was an amazing thing. It was almost impossible to get rid of. Shampooing generally didn’t get rid of all of it. While no DNA evidence could be taken from the carpet, one thing was clear once we’d finished: quite a bit had been in the rug. The stain was obvious. What was even better was that we found it all over the Hummer, too.
††††
Matt Chambliss sat in an interrogation room. We got him a drink. I let him stew and went off to the head. When I returned, another person had joined the party.
“Look what the cat dragged in,” Alex said.
“I see.”
“I . . . I really need to talk to you,” Kim Monroe said. And based on the bruises she sported on her arms, the cat dragged her around pretty good. We escorted her into a separate room, and got her a drink. We started with her.
“Rob, Matt and I were there the day David started to move his stuff in,” she began.
“Uh huh.”
“David was a great guy. Everyone liked him.” She poured a Diet Coke into a Styrofoam cup, then moved the can around in the ring of moisture that was left behind on the table.
“Not everyone,” I said.
“Right, well . . . that day—the day David was moving in—he and Rob got into it.”
“About what?”
“Rob kept saying, ‘Don’t do this! Don’t fuckin’ do this! You’re wrong!’ . . . that type of thing. I had no idea what it was about.”
“So what happened next?”
“Rob grabbed him and took him outside. I heard a car start, and when I left an hour later, Rob’s car was gone.”
“The Hummer.”
“Yes.”
“Some vehicle for a young guy.”
“Yeah, well . . .”
“What’s he into?”
“Steroids. He’s selling,” she said. Just like that.
“Okay. So he’s making good money?”
“Yes.”
“So, what happened after Rob took David out of the house?”
“I don’t know, except later that night David called me. He asked me to meet him. We weren’t great friends, but I think he felt he could trust me.”
“Good. That’s good, Kim.” I felt the anger rise. “Where did he ask you to meet him?”
“The dock, at the boathouse. He told me that when he went back to the house to get his stuff, his laptop was missing. Asked me if I knew where it was.”
“Did you?”
“No. He said no one was at the house when he went back, so he looked all ove
r the house for it. He never found it. Then he gave me a key. He locked his stuff up in the boathouse, in one of the small storage lockers. He said he was going to move back into the dorms at school. He seemed scared.”
“Why did he give you a key?”
“He said it was in case something happened to him.”
“And you gave no thought to coming forward before now?”
“I was scared.”
“And you’re not now.”
“I am. Terrified, actually.”
“Well, we’re glad you came in. It’ll be alright.” I had no idea if that was true. Didn’t much care. “What was David wearing when you saw him there at the boathouse?”
“Uh, sweats, t-shirt, his red crew jacket.” That made sense.
“Was anyone else at the dock, at the boathouse, when you and David were there?”
She shook her head. “No. Not that I noticed.”
“You’re involved with Rob, aren’t you?”
“Yes. It started out . . . God, I don’t know . . . he had something Jesse didn’t. But then, it got . . . scary.”
“How so?”
“Rob started to get crazy-possessive. Demanded that I tell him where I was at all times, even if I was with Jesse . . .”
“He didn’t care that you were with Jesse?”
“It turned him on, actually. He even . . . watched once.”
“And Jesse didn’t know about Rob?”
“No. And Jesse would be devastated if he found out.”
“Maybe more than devastated if he found out Rob was . . . watching.”
“You have a point there.”
“What else?”
“Rob would fly into rages over nothing. If I didn’t answer my cell right away, if I didn’t come to him when he called, no matter what time, no matter who I was with. It started as kind of a fun, titillating game. Then it just got . . . crazy. And then one day he’s driving a Hummer, he’s got wide-screens in every room, he’s got the latest electronic equipment. I’d ask where he got it . . .” She shrugged.
“And he hit you?”
“If I asked too many questions, things would get . . . rough.”
“Why didn’t you say any of this before?”
“Would it have saved David?”
“No.”
“I was afraid to. I was afraid of what Rob might do.” She sighed. “He has been crazed for the last month. I knew there was more to it. Look, I love Rob. Don’t ask me what the appeal is, but it’s there. I wanted to see what I could find out before I started talking to the cops. If I’m wrong . . .?”
“You did the right thing by talking now.” I bit down on the anger. I lied in my job a lot to get what I wanted, but I hated being lied to. “Rob’s selling steroids. Who else is involved?”
“A few weeks ago I went to a party at a house in Palms. A girlfriend of mine is also going out with a guy on the crew team. Anyway, not only were guys from the Campbell team there, but from other schools as well. Some of them were huge. At one point, Rob and that idiot . . . what’s his name . . . the coach?”
“Bill Grayson?”
“No. The other one.”
“Kevin Meyers?”
“Yes. He was there, too. At one point, Kevin and Rob, and another guy, went into a back room of the house, and guys kept going back there. I just thought they were doing drugs, you know? Then one guy, this HUGE guy, like a body builder, comes out of the bedroom with two or three hypodermic needles sticking out of his biceps, and he’s strutting around like a freak. I’ve never seen anything like that. It was crazy. Needles sticking out of his arms, and he’s walking around.”
“So, Rob was in the back with Meyers?”
“Yes, for sure.”
“Okay, Kim. One more thing. Did Rob ever take you out in one of the crew shells? You know, for a little romantic moonlit sail . . .?”
She chuckled. “Rob?”
“Yeah. Kevin Meyers said that Rob asked him if he could take a shell out, take his girl out in one.”
“Meyers said Rob asked—not Matt?”
“Yes, he said that Rob, not Matt, asked. He says he saw Chambliss get into a boat with a girl with a red jacket.”
“He’s a liar.”
I glanced at Alex. “Why’s that?”
“Rob can’t swim. He’s terrified of the water. Something from childhood. He’d never take a boat out. Admired Matt for being a star on the crew team, but as for taking a crew shell out—on the water?” She looked at each of us. “When pigs fly.”
††††
Matt Chambliss picked at an empty Styrofoam cup, littering the dark table with little snowy bits. Alex stood behind him. Good cop, bad cop . . . or something like that.
“Let’s talk about David, Matt.”
“What do you want to know?”
“Your brother is selling illegal anabolic steroids, Matt, and we want to know what David Crane had to do with it all.” He didn’t answer. “Rob’s in a lot of trouble, and we need to sort this out. We got us a dead kid, and we think Rob knows more than he’s telling us. Help him out.”
“He’s my brother.”
“I know, but you can help him out now. How did David Crane get involved in this?”
“Shit . . .”
“C’mon, Matt.”
“You think he killed David, don’t you?”
“He was involved somehow, Matt. Maybe it was an accident. You know, that happens sometimes. Things get out of control, shit happens you don’t mean to happen. Talk to me, let us find him, and we’ll get it all straightened out.”
“Okay . . . okay.” He took a breath. “About two years ago, Rob was at a party, and he met some people who were . . . into this.”
“Steroids?”
“Yes. Rob started going to the gym, and he met more people who were either selling or using the stuff. He saw how big they got, how fast . . . and he started using the stuff. Then someone got him into selling.”
“Who?”
“A doctor, treats the team sometimes.”
“Name.”
“Stan Ondrak. He was one of the people at this party a couple of years ago—him and a couple of other doctors. They were hyping this shit as the next great miracle, totally natural, good for your body. Pretty soon, Rob was selling and making a fortune.”
“And Ondrak was supplying the stuff?”
“Yes, sir.”
“So, how did David Crane become involved?”
“A guy named Jackson Bennett rowed crew with us. He started doing steroids—big. He was stacking, he wasn’t cycling properly . . .”
“Wait . . . what is ‘stacking’? What is ‘cycling’?”
“Stacking is doing different steroids one on top of the other, to achieve a certain effect. Cycling is when you go on and off . . . say you do a round for three weeks, then go off everything for three weeks . . . like that.”
“So, Jackson Bennett . . .”
“Right, so Jackson is really into it, but he was making some mistakes. Suddenly he’s having problems.”
“Problems how?”
“He was getting really sick, having major mood swings, stuff like that. So, from what I heard, Rob is in Dr. Ondrak’s office one day, and David was in the next room . . . he’s either coming to an appointment, or just leaving. Anyway, he sees Rob and . . . another guy in Stan’s office, hears them talking about steroids, and Jackson’s name comes up. After that, David approached Jackson, and Jackson started talking. He tells David about the gig Rob has going, who’s involved. Rob finds out David’s going to write an article for one of the papers—Times, maybe—about all this, so Rob starts riding him about dropping the whole thing. Then one night, Jackson goes postal on his girlfriend and she finds him the next morning, dead.”
“Dead how?”
“Hung himself.”
I saw Alex taking notes. We would look into Jackson Bennett’s death, for sure. David mentioned to his mother that Bennett’s death was a concern.
; “What do you think happened to Jackson Bennett?”
“He hung himself, right? I mean, look . . . steroid use, sometimes it takes you there, you know?”
“Yeah.” I had my doubts that Bennett lost his life all on his own. “The day David moved his stuff in, you were there.”
“Yeah.”
“How about when he came back to take his stuff out?”
“No. I wasn’t there. I’d gone to look for Rob. I knew he’d taken off with David, and I didn’t like the way Rob had been acting—with anybody—so I got worried, you know?”
“Yeah, buddy. I know.” I wanted to ring this idiot’s neck.
“So, I came back to the house at about . . . I don’t know, practice just ended for a tournament we were having the next day. And, about an hour or two later, Rob comes in and he’s covered in blood. He’s not hurt, but he starts tearing up David’s room. Says he’s looking for a drive . . . stick drive, something . . . I mention David’s laptop, and Rob says he looked at it and it’s got nothing . . . he’s crazed and I have no idea what he’s talking about. All I know is there is a lot of blood and now it’s all over the rug.”
“So you shampooed the rug.”
He hesitated, his eyes welling. “He’s my brother.”
“I understand. Did you shampoo the rug?”
He set his jaw, convinced he could convince us he did the right thing. “Yeah. I went to the store and rented one of those machines, and I did it.”
“Did you clean out the Hummer, too?”
“What? No.”
“You didn’t take it to the car wash, get it detailed?”
“No.” It had been done, for sure, but not by Matt Chambliss.
“Did you ask Rob where all the blood came from?”
“Yeah. He said that he got into it with David, and he slugged David in the face and he got a gusher. A bloody nose.”
“But you knew better, didn’t you, Matt?”
Matt Chambliss started to cry. “He’s my brother.”
“Yeah. Yeah, I know. We’re gonna help him now, buddy.” I let Matt calm down before I asked the next question.
“You said that Rob was selling with someone else. Who else was involved.”
“Kevin. Kevin Meyers.” Matt looked down at his hands. “He got the clients, Rob made the sales. Rob did the dirty shit.”