Flesh and Blood (11 page)

He nodded. “Weirdest of all,” he said. “She had several broken bones—all postmortem.”

I nodded, as everything fell into place. “That’s it,” I said. “Thanks, Pete. I really appreciate it. Now I just need one more favor.”

On my way to Pete’s office to meet with Gwen, I stopped by the warden’s office.

Sean Williams and Joe Wynn were seated next to each other in Stone’s outer office across from his secretary, neither man speaking to the other. Their fear and awkwardness filled the room with a tension obvious to everyone. To the extent they acknowledged one another, it was with suspicious, furtive glances.

As I stepped to Stone’s open door, it was obvious the new regional director and the IG had taken over. The regional director, Daryl McDonald, a young, white guy with a crewcut and glasses, and high on power, was sitting behind Stone’s desk. Tom Daniels, the state inspector and my ex-father-in-law was seated across from him. Stone was packing his personal belongings into a small cardboard box.

“We’re real busy right now, Chaplain,” McDonald said. “You’ll have to say goodbye to the warden another time.”

“This won’t take but a second,” I said.

“I’m sure he’s come to reveal all,” Daniels said. “That’s his thing. He’s a—What are you? I mean, besides an unmitigated bastard?”

“An ecclesiastical sleuth,” I said.

“A … ?”

“A clerical detective,” I said. “A hound of heaven.”

“I wasn’t kidding when I said we’re busy,” McDonald said.

He seemed to me to be the type of obnoxious prig who was constantly picked on in high school and now he was getting back at the world one cruel act at a time.

“You a bettin’ man, Daryl?” I asked.

He didn’t like that. He looked up at me angrily. How dare I speak to him so casually?

“What?”

“If I can prove there was no way Warden Stone could have prevented the victim from entering the institution, can he have his job back?”

“Can you?”

“Can he?”

He hesitated. “Sure,” he said. “This should be good. Let’s have it.”

“I’ll be right back with it,” I said. “Don’t go anywhere. I’ve just got to get a little more information. In the meantime, can you get Weeks and Taunton up here?”

“Who’s that?”

“Tower III officers,” I said.

He nodded. “Sure,” he said, “I’m nothing if not accommodating.”

“Thanks,” I said.

He looked at his watch. “You’ve got fifty minutes,” he said.

“I only need about half that.”

“We told you that she was into extramarital sexual activity,” Gwen said. “We just didn’t tell you how perverted it was.”

I nodded.

We were seated in Pete’s office, each of us in the chairs on the front side of his desk. We had turned the chairs so that they were facing each other and were sitting close together.

“Part of the reason was Roy’s embarrassment,” she said. “And not wanting to talk ill of the dead, but I got to thinking that it might be the very thing that helps you find out who killed her.”

I nodded again. “I appreciate you being willing to talk to me,” I said.

“Are y’all close to finding out who did it?”

“I think so,” I said, “but I’m sure your information will help.”

“I just keep wondering if there’s anything we could’ve done to have prevented this from happening,” she said.

“You can drive yourself crazy with those kind of thoughts,” I said. “I’ve done it before.”

Though the same size she had been earlier in the morning, she seemed slightly smaller somehow not juxtaposed with her tall, skinny husband.

“She was just so lost, so perverted,” she said. “It was as if she had just given herself over to defilement, and she was infecting everyone in her life… . Poor men—most of ’em didn’t know what hit ’em.”

I didn’t say anything, just listened.

“Men are bad enough, but boys,” she said. “Boys are a different matter. I told you about her inmate fantasy, well, I thought you should know what she said about that poor boy.”

“Which one?”

“Sean Williams,” she said. “She told us she could get him to do anything she wanted him to—anything, and if you could’ve heard the things she told us she got him to do, you’d know she meant anything. I’m not sure why she even came to counseling—not for help, that’s for sure. I think she just liked a place to talk about all the things she was doing.”

“You’re probably right,” I said.

“Do you think she talked Sean into bringing her here, and it got her killed?” she asked. “Should we have done something to stop her?”

“What could you have done?” I asked.

She shrugged. “I’m not sure,” she said. “I thought we tried everything, but … now I just don’t know.”

I nodded.

“I can’t imagine it’d help,” she said, “but I can give you more details about Mel’s fantasies and activities.”

I shook my head. “I wouldn’t put you through that,” I said. “Just tell me one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“Did she ever mention any dangerous or violent activities she’d engaged in?”

“A lot of her fantasies were dark and violent,” she said, “and all of her activities were dangerous, but there was one thing she used to do … . She’d get guys to choke her during sex. Said it made the, ah, experience more intense.”

We were quiet for a moment as I thought about what she had just said.

“How do you think you’ll find him?” she asked. “I mean her killer.”

“A lot of little things all working together,” I said. “Witnesses, histories, activities, breaking down alibis, catching suspects in lies, and information like you’ve given me, but most of all in a case like this, physical evidence.”

“Whatta you mean?”

“Once we find our prime suspect—which is what you’ve helped us with—we can match trace evidence found on the victim.”

“Trace evidence?”

“Hairs and fibers and such transferred from the killer to the victim,” I said. “Her murderer obviously moved the body, so there was a lot of contact. Melanie lost an earring, and I’m betting it’s on the guy or in his car, but best of all we have his uniform. We’ll be able to confirm it’s him by matching the laundry soap he uses with what was used on this uniform.”

“Wow,” she said.

“I’m about to go interview Sean again,” I said. “It won’t take long. Would you mind waiting around until after I do—just in case there’s something else I need.”

“Sure,” she said. “I don’t mind.”

“Thanks,” I said. “Just make yourself at home. I won’t be long.”

I walked out of Pete’s office, and closed door behind me.

“Did either of you ever choke Melanie during sex?” I asked.

Sean and Joe looked up at me in shock.

They were seated in Stone’s office across from McDonald, who was still behind the big desk. Daniels was beside him, Stone continuing to pack his things.

“What the hell’re you doin’?” McDonald said.

I kept my gaze on the two suspects. “I know it’s insensitive to ask, but we’re trying to find out who killed her, and since you both cared for her, I figured you wouldn’t mind helping—no matter how difficult the questions.”

Sean shook his head.

Joe just continued to stare at me, eyes glassy, skin pale, expression confused.

“Well?”

“No,” he said. “We never … . We hadn’t even
had
sex in over a year.”

“Chaplain,” McDonald said. “What’s this all about? Do you know who killed Melanie or not?”

“I think I do,” I said.

“Think?”

Pete walked in, caught my eye, and nodded.

“I know,” I said.

“Who?” he asked.

“First things first,” I said. “Warden Stone’s job.”

“Okay,” McDonald said. “How is he not responsible?”

“Melanie didn’t come in through the front gate,” I said. “The uniform made us think so—that was a nice touch—but nobody snuck her in and no officer mistakenly buzzed her in—not the control room, not the internal gate, not the rec yard gate. The rec yard officer, who does a very thorough job of inspecting her area once the inmates have returned to the dorms for count, didn’t miss her because she wasn’t there.”

“Then where was she?” Daniels asked.

“Not even dead yet,” I said. “Eliminate all the other possibilities and what’s left?”

“Come again,” McDonald said. “How did the victim get into the institution?”

“You know those square indentations on the outside of the fence?” I asked. “Where the colonel tossed his cigarette.”

Stone and Pete nodded.

“That’s how she got in.”

“Huh?”

“Those are the impressions left by out-riggers—the hydraulic stabilizers of one of the co-op’s bucket trucks,” I said. “They come down to keep the truck from tipping over when the bucket is raised. Melanie’s murderer broke into the hardware store, stole bolt cutters and spray paint, then broke into the co-op and stole one of their bucket trucks. That’s why the supposed vandals broke into the big well-lighted double gate instead of the small single gate in the back—they had to get a truck out. To make it appear to be kids, they spray painted misspelled profanity on some of the equipment and made it look like they just drove the trucks around inside the fence, but they took one out, drove it out here, down the logging road, and used it to dump the body over the fence in the rec yard. They covered the tracks close to the fence, but you could see them further down the road. It’s why the body was so close to the fence and why so many of her bones were broken postmortem.”

“Son of a bitch,” McDonald said.

Stone smiled.

Joe began to cry.

Stepping over to the regional director, Stone said, “I think you’re in my chair.”

McDonald got up and relinquished the chair, continuing to look at me, not Stone. “So who killed her?” he asked.

“Inspector,” I said.

Pete stepped over and sat a small digital recording device on the front edge of Stone’s desk and pressed a button.

“Roy,” Gwen said. “Roy, are you there? Pick up.”

“I’m here,” he said. “What is it?”

“One of Melanie’s earrings is missing,” Gwen said. “You’ve got to find it. Fast. And take all the laundry detergent and fabric softener and get it out of the house. Dump it in a trash can somewhere. Quick. Hurry if you don’t want to get caught.”

Pete stopped the recording.

“She wasn’t missing an earring,” McDonald said. “And laundry detergent. You can’t—”

“What the hell is that?” Daniels asked.

I smiled. “That,” I said, “is the lie that reveals the truth. Inspector.”

Pete pressed a few more buttons and the device played what I had said to Gwen before leaving Pete’s office.

“Who the hell is that?” McDonald said.

“It’s her goddam preacher and his wife,” Joe said.

I nodded.

To the extent that Sean showed any emotion at all, he looked relieved.

“Roy was having an affair with Melanie,” I said. “I’m not sure if he killed her or Gwen did, but, as you can tell from the phone call, they’re certainly in it together. I began to suspect him when Judy Williams told us that Melanie was into sleeping with men in power— like the bank president—and that she was also having sex in the men’s restroom at church. Roy was willing to let his church split over her. He preached a sermon defending Melanie, which everyone thought had to do with what she was doing with Sean here, but it was with him. After she was dead, they came up with this scheme because Joe and Sean worked here at the prison, put her in one of their sons’s CO uniforms, and dumped her body on the rec yard. Gwen had access to the co-op truck’s key because she cleans the building at night. Roy drove Melanie’s car down to the landing close to Sean’s house. We know it was Roy and not Gwen because he forgot to move the seat back up. And from the moment we spoke with them, they’ve been pointing us toward Sean. The reason Gwen’s out here now is to further implicate Sean and to find out how much we know.”

“We don’t know shit,” McDonald said, “but you know everything. You want to go back and get her confession?”

I shook my head, weary of all of it. “Inspectors Fortner and Daniels are better suited,” I said. “I’ve got chaplaincy duties to attend to, but can I make a couple suggestions?”

“Of course,” he said.

“I’d have the Potter County Sheriff go ahead and pick up Roy Clark,” I said. “And go at Gwen with understanding and sympathy—after all, an evil Jezebel tried to destroy her holy union and her husband’s ministry and all she was doing was defending them.”