Authors: David Martin
“No.”
“Then how do you—”
“I’m speculating. The apparatus for taking those photographs was discovered during the murder investigation but the police never found any pictures. At his trial Donald was adamant that the photographs would establish his innocence.”
“Because—”
“I suppose he thought one of her lovers killed her or maybe he was hoping the murder itself had been caught on film.”
“Elizabeth … do you know where the pictures are?”
She hesitated, then shook her head. “Just before J.L. died he mentioned Hope’s photographs. Maybe he had them from the very beginning, keeping them hidden to ensure Donald would go to prison and then holding on to them over the years because some very prominent men must’ve been caught on film with that seventeen-year-old girl and J.L. liked having leverage over people, especially people with influence.”
“And one of those influential men killed Hope.”
“Entirely possible.”
Camel finished the coffee, told Elizabeth he was grateful for the information.
“I’m just happy
someone
is investigating this, I find it incredible that Parker Gray—”
“Parker Gray?”
“Yes, he’s an associate superintendent with the state police.”
“I know but—”
“I find it incredible Parker hasn’t sent a detective to talk with me as he promised when I called him last night, God knows what Donald will do to Kenneth Norton or the Raineys … in fact he might have already done something, he made a veiled reference to having harmed them, you should go over and make sure they’re okay.”
“They’re next on my list to visit but why—”
“Good.”
“Why did you call Parker Gray—”
“The obvious person to call since Gerald McCleany is retired.”
“I still don’t—”
“Mr. Camel you should’ve come to me straight off, I could’ve put all your ducks in a neat little row.”
“You’re right, I wish I had talked to you—”
“Gerald McCleany was the state police detective in charge of investigating Hope’s death.”
“Okay, that I knew.”
“And young Parker Gray was his junior partner.”
“I’ll be damned.”
“I certainly hope not, Teddy.”
Donald Growler was naked, up on tiptoes, proudly displaying a massive dark blue tattoo spreading from his abdomen down to his groin and across both upper thighs. This tattoo, the horned grinning visage of Satan, was positioned such that the devil’s reptilian eyes were below Growler’s navel, the hooked nose above his pubic hair, that huge mouth stretching across Growler’s genitals and onto his thighs in a way that put Growler’s dick at the very center of Satan’s fat open lips.
Annie had been startled by Growler sneaking up behind her, now she was afraid of what he intended to do, rape her, but she also couldn’t stop looking at the tattoo … fascinated that someone would mutilate himself like that. She didn’t notice the other tattoos, the little broken heart on his right bicep or the Tasmanian Devil on his left shoulder.
“Old Scratch wants a kiss.”
Annie looked up from the tattoo to Growler’s own leering expression, dark eyes wide enough to show white all around, hair wet-sleek, big buck teeth in full grin … Growler’s face as terrible as the one below. Someone had bitten him on the right cheek.
“Should warn you though, he’s got a hell of a French kiss.”
Annie was still on her knees as Growler’s eyes switched back and
forth from watching her to glancing down and admiring the tattoo himself.
“It must’ve hurt,” she finally said.
The comment bewildered him … and when he replied his voice had softened. “Hurt like you wouldn’t believe.”
“Why did you do it?”
He shrugged, the wildness in his face gone. “I thought it would ward off attention, some of them are incredibly superstitious … but it worked about as well as these stupid teeth I had put in.” When Growler came down off his toes he had assumed an air of vulnerability, you could hear the little boy in his voice. “Should’ve had Old Scratch tattooed on my ass is where I should’ve had him tattooed.”
“Prison must’ve been horrible for you.”
He nodded … then his posture stiffened and he got that hard look in his eyes again. “What do you know about me being in prison?”
“I just assumed it was a prison tattoo.”
Suspicious now, Growler circled Annie and saw what she had taken from the chest, had unwrapped from the sheepskin. “You bitch I knew you had my elephant!” But he was more thrilled than angry, bending down to take the gold-and-jeweled elephant in his hands, turning it around and around as a mother might examine and admire her newborn child. Annie noticed he’d lost his erection.
“I found it in the chimney,” she explained.
“That’s why your face is so dirty,” Growler said absently, his attention riveted to the elephant. “I’m as happy as …” But he was unable to think of equivalents for happy, all of his experience these past seven years had been in the opposite direction.
Meanwhile Annie was looking at her hands black with soot, trying to imagine what her face was like.
When Growler finally stopped admiring the elephant he told her, “I knew St. Paul stole this but give the bastard credit, he held out on me no matter what I did to him … and I did everything.”
“He’s dead.”
“Paul?”
“My husband is dead, yes.”
Growler laughed. “You greedy bitch, you killed St. Paulie for this elephant, Jesus what a pair you two turned out to be.”
“No he shot himself.”
“Why?”
Because he caught me with Teddy, Annie thought … but she told Growler it was because of him. “Paul went crazy from being here with you, from whatever it was you did to him.”
Growler laughed again. “Good. He was supposed to be my partner, I’d already agreed to give him a cut of whatever the elephant brought, but your husband turned out to be greedy like you. I had this elephant hid in an old dumbwaiter shaft that was sealed up, St. Paulie must’ve got in from the basement, climbed the shaft like the rat he was. Did all this before I arrived here from prison, then when we opened the shaft on the second floor, where I stashed the elephant originally, it was gone and St. Paul was all innocent-like, actually had the balls to accuse
me
of lying, he said I made up the elephant story just so he’d get me out of prison. ‘No, no,’ I told him, ‘there really is an elephant, someone stole it while I was in prison.’ I promised him I’d find out who but of course it was St. Paul all along, he lied to me and I believed him like he was a man of God. Have to admire the bastard … I wish I’d killed him when I had the chance.”
“Paul was a good—”
“Your husband was a rat bastard, supposed to be religious, turned out to be a lying thief instead … hiding my elephant in the chimney so you could come here and—”
“I didn’t know anything about this!”
He kicked her shoulder with a bare foot. “How can you people lie the way you do, I catch you with the elephant and you still lie—”
“No!” Annie was desperate to explain. “Before Paul shot himself he said something about the chimney in this room but he didn’t specifically tell me what was hidden there, never told me about his partnership with you … he denied you even existed.”
Growler cursed her, again calling Annie a liar … when she started to stand he told her to stay on her knees. “Just the position I want you in.” He returned to admiring the elephant. “Solid gold, baby. And some of these diamonds are worth a hundred thousand dollars just on their own. I got a buyer lined up in England, three million, no questions asked.”
Annie looked again at the elephant … three million dollars, she had held
three million dollars
in her hands? Even with the danger she faced, Annie felt a sudden and powerful sense of possessiveness toward the golden sculpture. Paul had died to get it for her. It should be mine, she thought … it should be
mine
.
“Part of a set from India,” Growler was saying. “I don’t know if anyone ever played chess with it, obviously meant for display, everything oversized … all the white pieces were solid gold, this elephant is one of the knights.”
“How did you and Paul get connected?”
“Through Our Brothers’ Keepers. I couldn’t get anybody to sponsor me for parole until I told Paul what was hidden here in Cul-De-Sac. This elephant came from my uncle’s collection, a friend of mine cast a brass replica and I switched them, hid the real one … but then Hope was killed and I got framed—” Growler suddenly glowered at Annie. “Why you stringing me along, St. Paul must’ve told you all this.”
“No I swear—”
“Doesn’t matter, I got it, I got it now! And I’ve taken care of everybody but Elizabeth … and
you
.”
“I won’t say anything to anyone.”
He carried the elephant over to the tool shelves and carefully placed it between a circular saw and an electric sander, then returned to Annie and told her, “I drove your husband in-fucking-sane.” Laughing at a memory he began stroking himself. “I was in the tub when St. Paul walks into the bathroom, he hadn’t seen my tattoo yet. St. Paulie’s eyes got big as saucers when he spotted Old Scratch here floating just below the surface … freaked him out of his fucking gourd. I went with it, told him I was Satan, said I’d been imprisoned by the forces of good but his own greed for gold
had freed me to roam the world once again, doing evil. I spread it on so thick I had a tough time keeping a straight face. But St. Paulie lapped it up. I think he was a little wobbly to start with don’t you?”
Annie was finally crying … was it for Paul or for herself?
“Take off your clothes.”
“Just let me leave, I won’t—”
He kicked her in the side of the head, the blow disorienting Annie but not injuring her because Growler was barefoot.
“Take off your clothes, don’t make me tell you again.”
She began unbuttoning the blouse.
He bent down and rubbed a thumb along her cheek, smearing tears through the soot. “Ought to make you shower first. Hey look at me.”
She did, Annie recognizing that ravenous expression, she’d seen it on too many men’s faces, eyes glazed with sexual greed.
“Come on hurry up, you got Satan’s tongue sticking straight out.”
She removed the blouse, then her bra.
“Now take off your pants.”
But Annie stayed on her knees. If she tried to run, if she picked up one of the tools scattered on the floor …
He made a fist. “I’m going to split your fucking nose open if you don’t do exactly what I tell you. I ain’t had nothing but whores since I been out, you’re my first civilian ass … not counting St. Paul of course.”
“I’m not going to let you do this to me,” she said quietly.
“How you planning to stop me?”
She didn’t know.
“Come on baby Old Scratch is hungry.” He grasped her shoulders. “You can take those jeans off in a minute, first you’re going to blow me.”
“I won’t,” she said stubbornly.
He grabbed hair at both sides of her head, Annie could smell his musk. “I feel any teeth,” Growler warned, “and I’ll cripple you.”
“I found some pictures!”
He let go of her. “Where?”
“In the chest with that elephant.” She indicated the photographs on the floor.
Growler went around to look. He’d been so taken with the elephant he hadn’t even noticed the snapshots. Picking one up he said, “I’ll be damned.”
Annie turned on her knees, she knew she had to do it now. Growler gathered up the remaining photographs, he was standing there going through them, absolutely engrossed by what he was seeing … not noticing Annie as she took a spike nail in her left hand, grasping a hammer with her right.
I’ll get only this one chance she thought. Annie quickly placed her left hand on top of Growler’s foot, her fist steadying the nail, her other hand coming around with the hammer to hit as hard as she could. The nail entered his left foot just above the second toe but didn’t go all the way through.
As matters turned out Annie got a second chance after all … Growler bellowing, stepping back, tripping, putting his foot back on the floor to stop from falling. She lunged forward and, holding the hammer in both hands this time, swinging hard, Annie hit the nailhead squarely, driving the spike completely through Growler’s foot and into the wood floor beneath.
He was screaming, slapping her across the top of the head as Annie hit the nail again and again until only the head showed.
When she rolled away from Growler he sounded like an animal being butchered alive, filling the room with his rage and pain, cursing her worse than she’d ever heard as he tried to lift that left foot but of course couldn’t, Annie had spike-nailed him to the floor.
It was noon on Tuesday, April 16, and Teddy Camel was twelve hours overdue on his income tax, he’d also be late for meeting Eddie, Mary, and Annie at The Ground Floor.
Concerned about what Elizabeth Rockwell had said indicating Growler might’ve already visited the other people who testified against him, Camel was knocking on the front door of a brown-shingled bungalow owned by Judith and Lawrence Rainey who didn’t answer Camel’s knock. The Raineys were an older couple, maybe they didn’t hear him, maybe they were around back.
Camel walked along the side of the house, checking in windows as he went but seeing no sign of anyone home. He entered the backyard, no one here either but he noticed a cigar on the ground and wondered who had dropped it. Climbing the steps and knocking on the back door, Camel ran through possibilities as he waited … what led to the murder of that seventeen-year-old girl, was she in on the theft of that solid-gold elephant or was she trying to blackmail someone with those secret sex pictures? When Camel asked Parker Gray about an elephant, Gray didn’t tip to it, he was worried about photographs. Did McCleany and Gray run a bogus investigation seven years ago to protect the real killer … one of Hope’s lovers, someone she caught with that hidden camera rig,
someone rich enough to buy off McCleany and Gray, with enough political power to move Parker Gray up the ranks to associate superintendent?