Charley's Web (24 page)

Her fingers pressed the appropriate keys, and a blank page instantly filled the screen. WEBB SITE, she typed at the top of the page, then scrolled down to begin the first paragraph.
I’ve been thinking a lot about families lately,
she began.
My own. Other people’s. And I’ve concluded that they are wondrous things indeed. Sturdy patchwork quilts, held together by the most delicate, the most tenuous, of threads. The slightest snag, they risk fraying and falling apart. Yet some are strong enough to survive generations of such snags. Why some, and not others?

She stopped. Pressed
DELETE
. Too pompous, she decided, the words immediately vanishing. She began again.
I’ve been thinking a lot about families lately. As regular readers of this column know, my mother abandoned me and my siblings when we were little. My sister is now considering doing the same thing to her children.
Tradition!
I can hear Tevye belting from his rooftop perch.

Delete. Too judgmental.

I’ve been thinking a lot about families lately. I’ve spent a good part of the past several weeks interviewing Jill Rohmer about hers. Jill was physically beaten by her father, sexually molested by her brother, emotionally abandoned by her mother. She is currently awaiting execution for the grisly sex slayings of three helpless children. Can anyone really be too surprised?

Delete. Too unpleasant. What else had she been thinking about?

I finally got laid last night. Hooray!

“Problems?” Mitch Johnson asked from the entrance to her cubicle. Charley immediately pressed the
DELETE
button and turned around.

“Mitch. I didn’t realize you were there.”

“Thought I’d check in on my star reporter, since I haven’t seen a whole lot of her around here lately.”

“I’ve been in and out.”

“Mostly out, I gather. How is Jill Rohmer anyway? As sexy as her photographs?”

“You find Jill Rohmer sexy?” Charley couldn’t decide if she was more curious or horrified.

“In a perverted, psycho kind of way.” Mitch smiled. “Don’t you?”

“Can’t say that I do, no.”

“Too bad. It’s an intriguing image—the two of you girls together.”

“I should get back to work,” Charley said testily.

“What do you and the child-killer talk about anyway?”

“I guess you’ll have to wait and read the book.”

“Only if I get a free copy.”

Charley turned back to her computer.

“Sunday’s column is due on my desk by four o’clock,” she heard Mitch say on his way out.

“Asshole,” she muttered when he was gone.

I owe my sister an apology,
she began typing.
She’s written six bestselling novels, and until last night, I hadn’t read a single one.

The phone rang. “Charley Webb,” she said absently, trying to formulate her next sentence.

“This is Gary Gojovic,” the voice said. “I understand you’ve been trying to reach me.”

“Yes, hello, Mr. Gojovic. Thank you for returning my call.”

“Do I know you?”

“I don’t think so. I’m a reporter with the
Palm Beach Post.
” The line went dead in her hands. “Hello? Mr. Gojovic? Hello?” Charley hung up, checked her address book for his phone number, then dialed his office.

“Hartley and Sons Plumbing and Installation,” the receptionist announced.

“Gary Gojovic, please.”

“One moment. I’ll connect you.”

“Gary Gojovic,” came the voice seconds later.

“This is Charley Webb. Please don’t hang up.” Again the line went dead in her hands. “Great. That’s just great.” She pressed
REDIAL
.

“Hartley and Sons Plumbing and Installation,” came the now-familiar voice.

“I’ve been thinking of installing a new shower,” Charley improvised. “And a friend of mine recommended Gary Gojovic.”

“Yes, Gary’s our top installer. Do you have anything specific in mind?”

“I was hoping for a whole new look.”

“That’s always very exciting. Where are you located?”

Charley gave the woman her address.

“I could have Gary there tomorrow morning between ten and twelve, if that’s all right.”

“It’s perfect.”

“May I have your name?”

Charley’s mind went completely blank. She stared at her computer screen.
I owe my sister an apology,
she read.
She’s written six bestselling novels, and until last night, I hadn’t read a single one.
“Tiffany,” Charley heard herself say, borrowing the name of her sister’s latest heroine. “Tiffany Lang.”

M
rs. Lang?” the young man asked, smiling when he saw her. He was maybe thirty, short and somewhat stocky, with close-cropped blond hair and pale green eyes, and when he smiled, the edges of his mouth turned down instead of up. “I’m Gary Gojovic, from Hartley and Sons.”

Charley stepped away from her front door to allow him entry, Bandit rushing forward to greet him. “You’ll have to excuse my dog,” she said, surprised by her unintended use of the possessive pronoun. “He thinks everybody’s here to see
him.
”

Gary bent down to rub behind Bandit’s ears, lowering the handful of brochures he was carrying to the floor. Bandit’s tail wagged so hard, his entire body shook. “Easy, little guy. You’re gonna fall over if you aren’t careful. What kind of dog is he?”

“I think he’s a combination of things. You obviously like dogs.” Charley touched the tiny tape recorder inside the pocket of her denim shorts, shifting her weight from one bare leg to the other. Nothing like a small dog and a little skin to stimulate conversation, she was hoping, surreptitiously checking the cleavage revealed by her scoop-neck white T-shirt. Not too much. Just enough to get the testosterone flowing and the tongue wagging.

“Oh, yeah, I love dogs. I have three of my own.”

“Three? My goodness.”
My goodness
? Charley repeated silently. Maybe she really
was
Tiffany Lang. “What kind are they?”

“Dobermans.”

“Ouch.” Charley automatically took several steps back.

“Dobermans are great dogs. Don’t believe that nonsense you read. You’re good to them, they’re good to you.”

“Like people.”

“Exactly.” Gary picked up his brochures and pushed himself back to his full height, which Charley estimated to be maybe five feet seven inches. “Sorry I’m late. I had a little trouble finding the place.”

“It can be a bit tricky.” Charley tried picturing Gary standing next to Jill. They were an easy fit, she decided, studying the slope of his shoulders, the thrust of his hips, as Jill’s image arranged itself around him.

“Yeah. I turned too soon. Ended up having to make a circle around the Convention Center.”

“Happens to people all the time. Can I get you a cup of coffee?”

“No, thanks. I’m all coffeed out.”

“Some orange juice?”

Gary shook his head, glanced toward the back of the house. “So, you’re thinking of putting in a new shower?”

“I’m thinking about it.” Charley led him toward her en suite bathroom, carefully exaggerating the wiggle in her walk, as Bandit raced ahead. She guided Gary around her freshly made bed into the all-white bathroom.

“Not too much room in here,” he observed, eyes bouncing from the ceiling to the floor, from the window to the mirror over the sink. “Limits your options a bit.” He examined the combination shower-bath, pushed back the white plastic shower curtain, and sat on the side of the tub, running his blunt fingers along the square white tiles lining the shower wall. “You been having problems with these tiles?”

“Not that I know of. Why?”

“Well, these aren’t really bathroom tiles. They don’t absorb moisture very well. I’m surprised they haven’t started popping off the wall.” He knocked against them, as if to illustrate what he was talking about. “Hear that?”

Charley leaned forward. “It’s kind of hollow.”

“Could be a real problem. Floor tiles, too.” He kicked at the floor with the heel of his black boot.

“You’re kidding.” The tiles on her floor and shower weren’t suitable? They were going to start popping off? She was going to have to retile her bathroom?

“So, the first thing I’d recommend is replacing all of them with something more appropriate. And then I’d suggest going with a shower door instead of a curtain. They’re just better at containing the water. We have a variety of designs that would fit in easily along the top of the tub. I can show you a few I think would work well in here.” He tapped the brochures in his lap. “And then you might consider going with a bigger shower head. Unless, of course, you want to replace the whole shebang, tub and all. But I don’t think that’s necessary. Tub looks okay, and like I said, you don’t have a whole lot of room to work with.”

“How much are we talking about?”

“Well, that’ll depends on what you select. The prices for a shower door vary from just under five hundred dollars to more than two thousand.”

“Two thousand dollars for a shower door?”

“Top of the line. Labor included.”

“Can I see the brochures?”

“Of course.” He handed them over.

Charley flipped through the pages of the first brochure, wondering if there was any way she could subtly shift the conversation from bathroom plumbing to child murderers. “You know, I could really use a cup of coffee.” She walked out of the bathroom before Gary Gojovic had time to react. “Sure I can’t get you some?” she asked, walking into the kitchen and dropping the brochures on the table, pouring herself a cup of the coffee she’d brewed just before Gary’s arrival.

“Maybe half a cup. Cream, no sugar.” He sat down at the kitchen table, pointed toward James’s painting of the alligator and the snake that was taped to the refrigerator door. “Who’s the artist?”

“My son, James. He’s five.” Charley handed Gary his coffee, her fingers brushing up against his. “I also have an eight-year-old daughter.”

“Get out. You don’t look old enough to have an eight-year-old daughter.” Gary smiled shyly, as if he knew the line was weak.

“Why, thank you. I’ll take that as a compliment.”

The smile grew bolder. “It was meant as one.”

“What about you?” Charley took a sip of her coffee, the steam carrying the rich aroma high into her nostrils. “Any kids?”

“Not unless you count my Dobermans.”

“A wife?”

“Nope. Never married.”

“Interesting. Me neither.”

Gary looked intrigued. “I find that very hard to believe.”

“Why is that?” Charley leaned forward to deposit a plate of shortbread cookies on the table in front of Gary, feeling his gaze fall into her cleavage.

“Well, look at you. You’re gorgeous.” He paused, his eyes lifting toward hers. “But you know that, don’t you?”

What was she doing? Charley wondered. Although this wasn’t the first time she’d flirted with a man in order to extract information, it was the first time she felt guilty about it.

Gary lifted one of the cookies to his mouth. “Shortbread. My favorite. How’d you know?”

Charley sat down, removing her tape recorder from her pocket and placing it between them in the middle of the table. It was time to end this charade. “I know shortbread cookies are your favorite because Jill Rohmer told me they were.”

The cookie dropped from Gary’s hand. “What the hell?” He jumped from his chair, as if he’d just received an electrical shock. The coffee sloshed around in his cup, spilled over the sides, and ran down his hand. Bandit began to bark.

“Please sit down, Gary. I just want to talk to you.”

“What’s going on here? Who the hell are you?”

“My name is Charley Webb. We spoke on the phone yesterday.”

Gary’s eyes narrowed. “The reporter from the
Palm Beach Post
?”

“I need to talk to you about Jill Rohmer.”

“I’m out of here.” Gary lowered the mug to the table, dropping the cookie beside it, and started from the room, his own voice following after him.
Well, look at you. You’re gorgeous. But you know that, don’t you?
Gary stopped, turned back, stared at Charley accusingly. “What? You’re gonna play that for my boss? Get me fired? Is that the idea?”

Was it? Could she really do something like that? Could she even threaten it? “I just have a few questions.”

“I gave all my answers in court. The case is over. I have nothing left to say.”

“I’m writing a book about Jill,” Charley explained, “and I’m trying to cover all sides of this story, yours included.”

Gary shook his head. “You two make a great team.”

Charley tried not to be stung by the comparison. “Please, sit down, Gary. I could really use your help.”

He looked toward the floor. “Do I have a choice?”

Charley reached over, pressed a button on the tiny tape recorder, erased their entire encounter, then waited.

Gary stood very still for several seconds, his hands forming fists at his sides. Then he walked from the room.

“Shit,” Charley muttered, bracing herself for the sound of the front door slamming shut.

It never came.

“What is it you want to know?” he asked, returning to the kitchen moments later.

Charley expelled a deep sigh of relief. “Thank you so much.”

“Spare me the thanks. Just get me another cup of coffee.” He sank into the high-backed wooden chair. “And make it quick. I have a pretty full afternoon.”

Charley jumped to her feet, poured him a fresh cup of coffee, added cream. “Do you mind…?” She indicated the tape recorder.

“On the contrary. I insist. Guess we don’t have to do a test,” he added.

“I’m really sorry about that.”

“I’m sure you are.” He grabbed a cookie from the plate, popped it into his mouth. “Great cookies, by the way.”

“Your name is Gary Gojovic?” Charley began. “Am I pronouncing that correctly?”

“Gojovic,” he repeated. “You’re saying it just fine.”

“What kind of name is that?”

“Slavic. My grandparents are from the Ukraine.”

“But you were born in the U.S.?”

“Second generation Floridian.”

“That’s unusual.”

“So I’m told. What’s this got to do with Jill?”

“Just trying to provide some context. How old are you, Gary?”

“Twenty-nine.”

“How long have you been working for Hartley and Sons?”

“Going on three years.”

“They’re located in Juno Beach?”

“Yep.”

“And before that?”

“Before that I worked for Jennings Hardware in Dania.”

“Is that where you live?”

“Used to. I live in Jupiter now.”

“But Dania’s where you met Jill Rohmer?”

“I met her when she came into the store to buy a toaster.”

“Tell me about her.”

He shrugged. “What’s there to tell? I thought she was cute. We started talking. I asked her if I could call her sometime. She said, no, she’d call me.”

“Interesting.”

“Jill’s nothing if not interesting.”

“How old were you at the time?”

“Twenty-four…twenty-five, maybe.”

“And Jill was seventeen?”

“I
thought
she was eighteen.”

“So you started dating?”

“In a manner of speaking.”

“What manner?”

“What is it you want me to say?”

“I just want you to tell me about your relationship with Jill. In as much detail as you’re comfortable with.”

“I’m not comfortable with any of this.”

“I know this isn’t easy.”

“You don’t know shit.” Gary bit into another cookie, some powdered icing falling to his chin, like flakes of snow. “Do you have any idea what it’s like to find out that someone you actually considered marrying is a homicidal maniac? That the girl you thought might one day be the mother of your children murdered three little kids? I mean, what does that say about me?”

“It says you can be fooled.”

“Oh, I’m a fool all right,” he agreed. “You certainly proved that this morning.”

“Anybody can make a mistake, Gary.”

“Yeah? How many psychopaths have you fallen in love with?”

“So, you were in love with Jill?” Charley asked, returning the question to him.

Gary leaned back in his chair, looked toward the backyard. “I guess.”

“Tell me about her.”

He made a sound that was half-laugh, half-snort. “What can I say about Jill that hasn’t been said already?” He smiled, almost in spite of himself. “She was this really neat combination of innocence and mischief. All soft one minute, hard as a rock the next. Satin and steel. And cute as hell. She had that whole girl-next-door thing going on. What is it they say—a lady in the living room, a whore in the bedroom?”

“Jill was a whore in the bedroom?”

Gary’s smile grew wider. “There was nothing she wouldn’t try.”

“Okay. We’re getting a little ahead of ourselves. Can we go back to your first date?”

“That was our first date,” Gary said, and laughed.

“She slept with you on your first date?”

“Didn’t even have to take her out for dinner first. She was waiting for me that night when I finished work. I walked outside to the parking lot, and there she was, standing beside my car. I asked her how she knew it was mine, and she said she’d been watching me for a couple of weeks. Next thing I knew she was riding me in the backseat. It was pretty intense.”

“Go on.”

“Well, we started seeing each other regularly after that. Two, three times a week. Of course, I was seeing other girls, too. At least at first. Till Jill found out about it.”

“She asked you to stop?”

“Not exactly. She went straight to the source. Beat up one of the girls pretty bad. Broke her nose.”

“What’s this girl’s name?”

“Susan. Susan Nicholson. She still lives in Dania, I think.”

“And the other girls?”

“There was just one other. Christine Dunlap. Jill put a water moccasin in her parents’ swimming pool.”

“What!”

“Of course, no one could ever prove it, and Jill always denied it,” Gary added. “But I knew. Everybody did.”

“Do the Dunlaps still live in Dania?”

“Are you kidding? They sold the house three months later. I think they moved to Tampa.”

“What did you think about all this?”

“Well, this here’s the really awful part about the whole thing. The truth is…I was flattered. Can you beat that? Stupid me, I thought it proved how much she loved me. Just goes to show you what a great blow job’ll do to your brain. I mean, I can really sympathize with Bill Clinton on that one.”

Do you like doing that stuff?
Charley suddenly heard Jill ask.

“So, you stopped seeing these other girls?” she asked.

“Didn’t have much choice in the matter.”

“And Jill became your girlfriend.”

“Started seeing her pretty much every night.”