Blowout (35 page)

“She knew, but she told no one.”

“If she had, that crazy man might have killed her. He was crazy, Callie, you know that, regardless of why he did anything, he was crazy. He figured he had nothing to lose. What would you have done, Callie?”

I would have killed him myself,
but she held herself quiet. “I don't know.”

“No, no one could ever guess what she would do in such a situation. But the fact remains, crazy as he was, he protected her and the rest of us last night before he was killed. He lied to Savich and Sherlock and Ben, and they unwittingly lied to you and the world.”

“You can't expect me to keep quiet about this, Mother.”

“Yes, I can and I do, Callie. Think a moment. She didn't know what he planned, none of us did. She didn't know what he'd done until after she saw that photo and began to wonder, and then he killed Eliza. She was terrified, nearly over the edge herself.

“And she was terribly worried about me. I was a basket case, and she had to pretend that everything was all right, she had to protect me. As I said, it wasn't until we got word that Günter had been killed by the FBI that she told us the truth.

“What good would it do if you told your friend, Detective
Raven, about this? What good? She might be prosecuted though she committed no crime. What would be the point of that? It could only result in the truth coming out. I loved your stepfather, Callie. I don't want his name going down in history as the Supreme Court Justice who screwed a law clerk and was murdered for it, along with two other law clerks. I know that you cared for him too. It's not much of a stretch to believe I would be implicated as well.

“She has suffered enough. All of us have. Leave it alone, Callie. I'm asking you to leave it alone.”

“I'm very sorry about the affair between Stewart and Eliza, Mother. I'm sorry you knew about it. I'm very sorry Eliza wasn't the fine woman Sherlock believed she was.”

Margaret shrugged. “As I told you, a wife always knows.”

Callie said, “Would all of you like to know something? Günter was dead wrong. Fleurette didn't know a thing about Stewart and Eliza. Regardless, one of you aided and abetted a murderer.”

Margaret said, “Not knowingly, not willingly. She couldn't control him. He kept her a prisoner. She was as much a victim as the others.”

“No, she's still alive, isn't she?”

Margaret said, “Günter was a madman when all was said and done. She was not responsible!”

Callie looked at each of them in turn. She'd known them all her life, loved and respected them. They were always there for each other. Even though one of them had kept quiet about her stepfather's murder, her mother had no intention of exposing her. None of them did. To tell the police would mean exposing her mother as well as the others.

“I don't know,” Callie said. “I've got to think about this, Mother.”

“While you're thinking, remind yourself what your own newspaper would do with this story. I want Stewart's name protected.”

“I understand that.”

He mother stepped back into the circle of women. “Think hard, Callie.”

Four of them had hair long enough to fan out. Any of the four could have been in the car with Günter. Any could fit Mr. Avery's description.

Except for her mother. Thank God.

Callie looked at them one last time, wondering which one had slept with Günter, which one had been threatened by him, which one had lived with his madness, with the knowledge of what he was doing. And had done nothing to stop him in the end.

B
LESSED
C
REEK
,
P
ENNSYLVANIA
T
HE
F
OLLOWING
T
UESDAY AFTERNOON

M
ARTIN
T
HORNTON WALKED
into Sheriff Doozer Harms's office. No one was inside except Doozer, sitting behind his big wooden desk, working the
New York Times
crossword. He looked up when the door opened. “How can I help you?” He laid down his pencil, but didn't rise.

Martin said, “I guess you don't remember me, do you Sheriff Harms? Actually, I remember you even though the last time I saw you I was only six years old.”

Sheriff Doozer Harms grew very still. He looked behind the man standing in front of him out the glass windows that gave onto Main Street. He saw no one. He smiled and kicked back, put his booted feet up on his desk. “Well, well, if it isn't Austin Barrister. Imagine you of all people turning up on my doorstep this beautiful, snowy day. It is you, isn't it? It's hard to tell, you haven't aged well. Fancy you showing up here, after so many years.”

“I came to see you because I remember now, Sheriff. I've been out to the house. It all came back to me when I stepped into the bathroom.”

“So,” Sheriff Harms said slowly, his fingers caressing the pistol butt on his belt, “you finally remember stabbing your mama, do you, boy?”

Martin smiled. “Nice try, Sheriff. But that isn't what happened. As I said, I remember, all of it. Clear as a bell.”

Sheriff Harms rose, spread his palms on the desktop. “You were six years old when your mama died, Austin, a hysterical little boy who couldn't even say who he was or where he was. What you think you remember, Austin, it's all from your child's imagination.”

“That's another good try, Sheriff.”

“Nope, there's nothing for you to remember, but here you are, standing here in front of me in my office, all straight and defiant. Sometimes there's just no rhyme nor reason to life, is there? Hey, sometimes there is no big, bad wolf.”

“And sometimes there is. That's what you are, Sheriff. You murdered my mother.”

Sheriff Harms pulled the gun out of its holster. “You're not threatening an officer of the law, are you, Austin? Now, it isn't that I'm not glad to see you, but it's time for you to go away now. Don't come back.”

“I saw you plunge the knife into her chest. It's as clear as anything now.”

“What do you want, Austin?”

“The truth. That's all.”

“You want the truth, do you? I wonder, are you devious enough to be wearing a wire, you little pissant?”

He laid his gun on the desktop, walked to Martin, jerked open his coat, and patted him down. No wire. And no gun. “Why are you really here, boy?”

“I want the truth, just like I said. I want to know why you did it.”

Sheriff Harms stepped back, picked up his gun, and held it loosely in his hand.

Martin said, “I know you won't kill me, at least not here. In case you're tempted, though, my wife is down at the Blue Bird Café, expecting me in an hour. Nope, you can't kill me here, right in your office.”

“Me kill you? Nah, I like to have my gun handy when I'm with people I don't trust, keeps them honest. No matter what you think you remember, I didn't do anything wrong. Now, why don't you get out of here.”

Martin said, “I know you killed my mother. I also know there's nothing I can do about it. I'm not stupid. A little boy's testimony about something that happened over thirty years ago against the revered Sheriff of Blessed Creek—who would pay any attention?”

“There you go again, making accusations.” He brought his gun up, aimed it at Martin's head. “You know, I could take you out and your wife too, if you screwed with me.”

“I have no intention of screwing with you, Sheriff.”

Sheriff Harms took a step back, leaned against his desk, the gun still in his hand. “Like you said, Austin, no one would pay any attention to you if you shot off your mouth. But if you did, it would really piss me off. I'll bet you it'd piss me off enough to come after you and kill you dead. You know that, don't you, Austin?”

“Is there anything you'd flinch from doing, Sheriff?”

“I'm a lawman, and I've had the guts for thirty years to keep myself and this town safe from people like you. Don't you think to fuck with that, Austin.”

“I'm asking you to tell me why you killed my mother.”

Sheriff Harms walked to the door, opened it, looked up and down Main Street. A few people he'd known for years, but not a stranger in sight. He turned, shut the door, locked it. He leaned once more against his desk and grinned. “You know, it's just the two of us here. All my deputies are out patrolling. Grace is having her lunch.”

“Then tell me the truth. You said it wouldn't matter.”

“You want the truth? All right. Why the hell not? You really surprised your daddy.”

“My father? Don't you try to bring my father into this. It was you I saw.”

The sheriff laughed. “You really believe that? You lived another twelve years with your mama's murderer, at least with the guy who paid for it. Don't be stupid, Austin, of course your daddy was in on it. You know what else? After he left, Townsend called me once a week, told me how you didn't have a clue, not even an inkling of what had happened, didn't even seem to remember your mother, didn't seem to care. I stewed over it, worried about it, but after a few years, ended up letting it go.

“Then he called me, what was it—oh yeah, must have been nearly twenty years ago, scared out of his gourd that you were suddenly asking questions, and he worried you were going to remember. Your daddy was always a pathetic excuse for a man. He knew what had to be done, but he didn't have the guts to do it.” Sheriff Harms shrugged. “I knew I should go right up to Boston and shoot your ass. I was planning my trip, didn't tell your daddy,
of course, no telling what he'd have done, but then you just up and disappeared right after you graduated high school. I couldn't believe you did that, neither could your father. But you were gone. Poof, gone. I thought maybe you'd come back, but you didn't. I thought I'd find you. After all, you were only a kid, eighteen years old, and what did you know? I'll tell you, I checked you out as if you were a fugitive, looked all over for you, but there wasn't a single sign of you. No credit cards, no licenses, nothing at all.

“Then here came the Internet, every year better and better. It should have been a piece of cake, but it wasn't. I still couldn't find hide nor hair of you. How did you do it, Austin?”

“Actually, I bought an entire new identity, not all that hard when you hit the streets in Boston.”

“Not bad for a puling little rich kid.”

“Do you know I kept trying to make myself remember, but I couldn't? Just shadows, voices, until this afternoon when I finally went into the house, and walked into the bathroom where you murdered my mother, and then I climbed up into the attic.

“All right, Sheriff, tell me you're making this up about my father being involved. Tell me what happened.”

Sheriff Harms laughed, stroked his fingers over the barrel of his gun, and began to toss it from his right to his left hand, again and again, knowing that Austin was looking at it. He wanted to scare him, make him worry that he might not live through this little drama, at least not for long. Maybe a nice car accident off the cliff road into Long's Quarry, with his wife in the car beside him.

Martin said, “There's no reason for you not to tell me, no reason for you to keep saying that my father was a part of it. You're just too chicken to tell the truth, aren't you, Sheriff? All you can do is throw the blame on someone else.”

“Nah, why would I even care what you thought? Hey, I know Townsend's your dad, that you believed in him for eighteen years, but the fact is you must have known way down in your gut there was something wrong about your daddy, why else would you have skipped Boston, disappeared, never contacted him again?

“Yep, it was your daddy who wanted your mama murdered. He offered me a whole lot of money to off her. But you know, Austin, I was worried about keeping the money coming in since it was your mama who ran the business, and wasn't that a funny thing back then, particularly thirty years ago? But your daddy promised me it wouldn't be a problem, there was lots and lots of money, and he'd be in control again once she was out of the way. Your daddy liked to gamble, went off to Las Vegas at least once a month, and Sam was giving him grief about all his losses. Maybe he thought about divorcing her, I don't know. But what happened was that your mama figured out he was cheating on her. She had him followed, and a private investigator caught him catting around with a couple of local women. He documented it with lovely big black-and-white photos. Your mama was going to divorce him, and he couldn't have that. She'd take all his money, and you. I guess he figured he didn't have any choice but to have me kill her, so your daddy promised he'd get me elected sheriff of Blessed Creek for life, if that's what I wanted, and that's what I did want. I'd just been elected by a real narrow margin with his help, and I knew I'd need really big bucks to keep this job come the next election. It's amazing how well people treat you if you've got some money to spend, and your old man has paid me well over the years. It was sure a blessing for both of us that he married a rich woman in Boston, since he has no talent with money. His folks were right about that.

“You know something else, Austin? Your grandparents drowned in the lake, so drunk they couldn't even swim back to the frigging boat. I've wondered if maybe your daddy made their martinis really strong, or maybe added a little something extra. You know, I think they were about ready to acknowledge to the world that he wasn't quite right, that he was a real loser with money. But who cares when all's said and done?”

“So you two planned to murder her the day of my sixth birthday party.”

“Everybody was there. It was a really big deal. There were so many people there, laughing, eating. After I made sure your daddy was surrounded by a dozen people so he'd have an alibi, I followed your mama to the bathroom and stabbed her in the heart. It was real easy.

“Only thing is, I looked up, and there you were, standing there, eyes wide as an owl's.”

Martin said slowly, “And then you took my hands, told me Mommy would be all right, and you took me up to the attic.”

“Fancy you remembering that. Your daddy was really pissed that you'd witnessed the murder, didn't know how you'd managed to slip away from all those kids you were playing with. That's when I put you in the attic, told you to stay there or something really bad would happen to you. We decided to leave you up there in the attic, in a nice dark corner, let you think about things. We left you there for a good hour, until Old Emily found your mother's body. That's when I had to get you down, before people started looking for you. You were so freaked out I nearly had to drag you out of the attic. You didn't say a word, just gave me this blank look.

“Your daddy got you out of there fast, right after the funeral.
I think he was afraid I was planning how to kill you, and he was right about that. I hate loose ends. Another accident, I would have come up with something. You didn't speak for a month, and when you did, it was obvious you didn't remember anything, you had amnesia and your daddy didn't think you'd ever remember. And after a while I thought, Who'd believe a little kid anyway, without any proof? Why take the chance of another killing? So there's your truth, but don't ever think you can do anything with it. There wasn't ever a lick of proof, I made sure of that since I was the sheriff, responsible for investigating Samantha's murder. No murder weapon, no witnesses, no suspects. Well, the husband, there's always the husband, but he was pouring drinks for a dozen party guests, a great alibi. Who killed her? Hey, I tried my best, but I couldn't find the killer.”

Martin's hands were tight fists at his sides. “I hope you got an ulcer worrying about me over the years.”

“Nah, you became ancient history. So you've found out what you wanted to know. Why not do us both a favor, get lost, and get over it. You've been someone else for nearly twenty years anyway. If I were you, I'd stay that person, and I'd stay away from your daddy. No telling what he'd do if you confronted him now he's got that nice, rich wife and two daughters. He'd want to protect them from you. Hell, he might even kill you himself if you went to him and told him that you knew what he'd done.”

“Are you planning to kill me, Sheriff Harms? Not here, you wouldn't be that stupid. But you're afraid I'll tell someone, aren't you? You wouldn't like that, it would mean a scandal, wouldn't it, open everything up again? And there's my father. You think I'd let him off the hook? Because of my half-sisters?” Martin walked up, grabbed the sheriff's shirt collar in his fists, and shouted right
in his face, “For the love of God, you crazy hick, he hired you to kill my mother! My mother!”