Kill Jill (20 page)

“Todd Hardy,” Bobby says. “The guy you helped me find four years ago. Before he got married, had kids, ran off with his boyfriend from California…this was Jill’s first boyfriend. They were high school sweethearts. She made it all through high school without getting laid, then this bastard slipped it to her the night they graduated.”

He frowns. “These nuts were in my wife’s mouth when she was a teenager.”

He places the jar back on the tray and picks up the second one.

“Colton Boyd, college student. Lacrosse player. Big man on campus. Wealthy family. This piece of shit was the love of her life. He used her, cheated on her, dumped her. You know the type? Think they’re better than everyone else? I crushed his feet and fed him to my hogs.”

He studies Colton’s nuts a while, then says, “I’ve had these a long time.”

He puts the jar down, picks up the next one. “Professor Owen Wolfe.” Of all the pricks who fucked my wife, this was the worst. A fuckin’ professor. He came at her the week Colton dumped her, which happened to be the same week her father died. Talk about a Satan double-header! I figured this guy must have brass balls for taking advantage of a young, broken-hearted coed like that, but as you can see, they’re nothing special.”

He puts the jar beside the others and says, “I’ve got the professor’s dick in another jar. It’s my only dick.” He looks at Jack, then adds, “So far.”

“The nuts of her fourth lover are attached to my lower abdomen,” he says. “And although I was fourth in line, I’m proud to say I’ll go to my grave being Jill’s
last
lover.”

“With any luck you’ll go there soon,” Jack says.

Bobby holds up the last jar. “Lover number five,” he says. “I never told you this, but Jill ran away once before. Guy’s name was Wisby. Marcus Wisby. Rayburn, tell Jack who Marcus was.”

Rayburn says, “Your driver.”

Bobby says, “You
believe
that shit? My fuckin’
driver
! She gave it up to this bastard for a fuckin’
ride
!”

Jack says, “Did they run off together?”

“No. Wisby drove her to Baton Rouge, fucked her, drove back alone. I didn’t find out what he’d done till I beat it out of her.”

Jack says, “How long was she gone?”

“Three days. And you wouldn’t believe the beating I gave her for
that
shit.”

“I expect she’d say it was worth it.”

Bobby’s expression stays the same, but his eyes go reptilian. “Rayburn?”

“Yes, sir?”

“Put this nut tray back where you found it, then get Clark, and tell him to bring his shit in here.”

When Rayburn leaves, Bobby tells his other goons to clear the table, except for the empty jar. By the time they finish, Rayburn returns with a short, curly-haired guy with thick glasses who looks like he plays football, basketball, and soccer, every day of his life—on X-box.

Bobby says, “Jack, this is Clark. Can you look at his equipment and guess his job with the parish police department?”

“He gives lie detector tests.”

“That’s right. Take a seat, Clark, and hook him up.”

While Clark gets the machine ready, Bobby goes on a texting jag. He’s working so furiously, no one wants to interrupt him. Finally he looks up and says, “You’re ready?”

Clark nods. He’s been ready for ten minutes.

“Can you leave us a minute?”

Clark stands, Rayburn escorts him out the room.

Bobby says, “Okay, Jack, last chance. I asked you how many lovers Jill’s had in her life and you said five, which was the correct answer before you came into the picture. You say you didn’t have sex with her, and if the lie detector agrees, you get to keep your nuts. Does that sound fair?”

Jack says, “Maybe I’ll tell Clark about the jars and what you did to Jill.”

“Tell him whatever you think is worth dying for, because anything you say beyond answering his questions will cost you your life. It’s up to you, Jack. But if you want my opinion, I think you’d be making a poor trade, since Clark’s heavily on my payroll.”

Jack has to give Bobby credit where credit’s due. It’s ingenious, having the police lie detector guy in his pocket. He can find out everything the police know but can’t use in court. That’s tremendous leverage for a guy like Bobby.

Bobby says, “I’ll ask you one last time. Tell me the truth about what happened,
how
it happened, and why. Tell me that, and I’ll spare your life.”

“You’re saying you’ll let me go if I tell you what happened?”

“No. I said I’d spare your life.”

“What does that mean, exactly?”

“It means I’ll chain you to my basement wall with the others, but I won’t feed you to the hogs.”

“The truth is I drove her to the place we met the four hunters. After killing them, I took one of the trucks and drove Jill to Hammond. I didn’t know it at the time but one of the bullets from the explosion damaged the truck. By the time we got to Hammond, the truck was about to die on me. I stole a car and kidnapped the family that owned it, put them in the trunk, and started heading here. After a few miles on the highway, they kicked out the tail lights, and I was afraid we’d be stopped. I didn’t want to get caught in the middle of a kidnapping, so I pulled off and got caught up in the Virgin Boat Festival. We abandoned the car and met a crazy lady who took us on horseback to a bait shop. The owner air-boated us to an airfield, and according to you, Mike flew Jill to Jackson instead of La Pierre.”

Bobby pauses to absorb the data. Then says, “When did you fuck her?”

“I didn’t.”

Bobby picks up the empty jar, turns it in his hands a minute.

“Good story,” he says. “Let’s see if the lie detector backs you up.”

When the test is over, Carter shows Bobby the peaks he’s circled that represent lies.

“Just so we’re clear, when Jack said he never kissed my wife…”

“That was a lie.”

“And when he said he never touched my wife’s breasts?”

“That was a lie.”

“And when he said he never had sex with her?”

“That was a lie.”

“And when you asked it a different way, if he’d ever had intercourse with her, he said no, and…”

“That was also a lie.”

“And when you asked if they had oral sex, he said no…”

“And that answer was truthful.”

“And when he said he didn’t know she was flying to Jackson?”

“That was a lie.”

“And when he said they weren’t planning to run away together?”

“That was also a lie.”

“Could any of these be—what do you call them? False positives?”

“There’s always a possibility of false positives. But this subject showed truthful answers to every control question you knew to be true.”

“What’s your degree of confidence in this particular test result?”

“Ninety to ninety-five percent.”

Carter looks at the empty jar and says, “Is that for his nuts?”

Bobby says, “Thanks for your time, Carter.”

After Carter leaves, Bobby says, “Anything you’d like to say to me, Jack?”

“Yeah. The guy’s a hack. Polygraphs are known to be accurate exactly sixty-one percent of the time.”

“Don’t be a sore loser, Jack.”

“I never touched your wife.”

Bobby imitates Carter’s voice, saying, “…And that was a lie.”

Jack frowns.

Bobby says, “I won’t ask you to give me the details at this time. When it comes down to the nut-cutting, you’ll tell me everything. Why the fuck are you smiling?”

It’s true.

Jack’s grinning like an idiot.

Bobby says, “This makes you happy? What, you always wanted to lose your nuts?”

“Marcus Wisby,” Jack says. “Jill’s fifth lover.”

Bobby frowns. “What about him?”

Jack laughs. “It just hit me: Jill’s alive. Not only is she alive, she was never here. Not last night, anyway.”

“And you came to this conclusion how?”

“Marcus Wisby, your driver, and the cab driver from Jackson, Mississippi, Vick Wamby. I knew that was a bullshit story, when you said Wamby was on your payroll.”

“Tell me.”

“I
talked
to the fucking cab driver.”

“So?”

“He was Iranian. I can’t remember his name, but it sure as hell wasn’t Vick Wamby!”

“Maybe I embellished that part.”

“You embellished the whole fucking story, Bobby. She was never here last night. The whole thing was staged.”

“Want to see her body?”

“Yeah. I’d love to see it. Let’s go. Right now. Show me.”

The two men stare each other down. Bobby says, “What makes you think it was staged?”

“When Jill ran off the first time you beat the shit out of her.”

“So?”

“You taped that beating and replayed it for me last night, to get my reaction. Then you tried to use the whole killing Jill story to get me to confess.”

“What about the lie detector guy?” Bobby says.

“Is he for real?”

“He is.”

“Then he’s a hack.”

“The police department doesn’t think so.”

“The court system does.”

“Let’s not quibble about the validity of lie detectors,” Bobby says. “What makes you think the beating you heard was taped from another time?”

“I notice you haven’t denied it.”

“I’m still at the ‘how could you possibly believe that?’ stage.”

“During the beating last night, Jill kept saying, ‘There’s no one else! I’ve been faithful!’”

“So?”

“The first time she ran off you didn’t know she had sex with Wisby until
after
you beat her up.”

“So?”

“When the beating started, you didn’t suspect Wisby. If you
had
, you would have asked if she fucked him and she would have said, “No.” She would
not
have said ‘There’s no one else.’ That’s the answer to a different question.”

“I can’t follow your logic,” Bobby says.

“She answered the question you asked. And when you asked it, you didn’t know about Wisby. But last night you suspected she and I had sex. If she’d been here last night you would have asked, ‘Did you fuck Jack Tallow?’ and she would have said, ‘No.’ But she kept saying, ‘There’s no one else.’ It’s the answer to a different question. The one you asked the first time she ran away when you didn’t have a specific person in mind. She wasn’t here last night. Admit it.”

Bobby pauses a while, then says, “Your explanation sucks. It was torture to my ears.”

“But?”

“But you’re right. She was never here. Like you said, her beating was taped from the first time. But don’t act so smug. I made you cry. And I’m still going to cut off your nuts.”

“At least I know Jill got away safely.”

“You think?”

“I know.”

Bobby unwraps his hands and tosses the gauze on the counter behind him with the dirty dishes. Then says, “Why do you assume I don’t know exactly where she is?”

“If you knew where she was, you wouldn’t have gone through this whole charade with me. You’d have brought her back and beat her up the way you planned.”

“So if I told you that a half hour ago Jill was in a lake house on Leeds Road in Willow Lake, Arkansas, that belongs to a guy named Jack Russell, who happens to be
you
, what would you call that, a lucky guess?”

Jack’s heart nearly stops.

Bobby says, “You know what I’d call it?”

“Synchronicity,” Jack says.

Bobby smiles. “In another world, under different circumstances, I bet we’d be friends.”

“You’d lose that bet.”

Bobby shrugs. “Perhaps you’re right. Look, I’m tired of dicking around. Are you ready to give up your nuts?”

“No.”

“Just to show there are no hard feelings—no pun intended—I’ll let you hang onto them till tomorrow night.”

“Why so generous?”

“I want you to be completely lucid when the explosion takes place.”

“What explosion?”

“All in good time, Jack.”

He looks at his goons. “Rayburn? Clayton? Please help me escort Jack to the basement. Jack? You’ll want to glance out the window, and at your watch, so you can remember the exact moment you saw daylight for the last time in your life.”

He looks at his watch and thinks,
It’s eleven-thirty. Last time I spoke to Jill was two-forty-five. She did what I told her to do—left without me and took a cab to the lake house. That would have been around four a.m. Seven-and-a-half hours ago.