Flowering Judas (36 page)

Gregor let all this flow over him. “So you think they left about eight.”

“Eight or eight-thirty.”

“And what did you do?”

“I went over to Desiree's place,” Haydee said. “Her mother was at work. Her mother doesn't like me hanging around. She thinks Mike is going to come and bust up the place someday, because I'm there, you know, and he's mad at me. But she was at work, so I just stayed there and then I went to sleep in Desiree's room. I didn't want to be back at my place when they got home. I thought they'd be, that they'd be—”

“Violent?” Gregor suggested.

“They're never really violent,” Haydee said. “They're just sort of—sort of crazy. And Mike punches things. Not usually people. You know. He breaks walls. He's always angry about something. But last night he wasn't angry, he was just nuts. And they had money. They had money to get the Johnnie Walker bottle, and they had money to go to the bar. Even though it's the wrong time of the month for it.”

“The wrong time of the month?” Gregor asked.

“Disability,” Howard Androcoelho put in. “That pays on the third.”

“And it's gone on the fourth,” Haydee said. “But they had money last night. They had a lot of it, for them.”

“Do you know where they got it?” Gregor said.

Haydee shook her head. “I thought they might've gotten lucky on a scratch ticket. That happens sometimes. But they didn't say so. They usually tell me when they get lucky on a scratch ticket.”

“But they didn't this time?”

“No,” Haydee said. “They didn't. They didn't say anything at all. They just kept flashing money around, and the bottle, and then they took off for the bar. And I didn't think anything of it. I really didn't. I just—I don't know. And then it's so strange, because I was telling Desiree about Chester Morton. And Chester Morton is dead.”

“For God's sake,” Kenny said. “You don't have to worry about Chester. You really don't. Not at a time like this.”

“What about Chester?” Gregor Demarkian asked.

Haydee shrugged. “It was just that I was telling Desiree about it. Chester Morton used to spend a lot of time at our place. I don't know how much, really, you know, I was only six. But he used to come over and sit around with my mother, and my mother would go over there. And I remember the day he disappeared, or when everybody finally decided he'd disappeared, or whatever, because that was the first time I was ever taken into foster care.”

“Foster care,” Gregor said slowly.

“I was always getting taken into foster care when I was little,” Haydee said. “Social services would show up at our door and I'd be taken away, and then in a few weeks I'd be brought back and the place would've been cleaned up. I used to sort of like it when that happened, to tell you the truth. I didn't like the foster places, but when I got back home it would always smell of Pine-Sol and soap. It was kind of nice.”

“And the mess in the trailer, that was the reason you were taken into foster care?” Gregor asked.

“I don't know,” Haydee said. “I suppose so. I was too little to really understand it, if you know what I mean. I just knew Chester was there all the time, and then I went away and he wasn't anymore, and later people told me he had disappeared. Oh, and then there weren't anymore fights from the other trailer.”

“There were fights from the other trailer?” Gregor asked.

Haydee flushed. “Really, Mr. Demarkian. I was too little. I didn't understand anything that was going on, and I probably got a lot of it wrong. I don't even know if my memories are right. But, yes, there were fights from the other trailer. It's so close up against ours. There were people yelling a lot. And sometimes one of those people was my mother. But I couldn't tell you who the other one was. I don't even know if the other one was Chester Morton. It was just a lot of yelling through the walls, and it scared me to death.”

 

TWO

1

Charlene Morton knew that they would be coming—Gregor Demarkian, certainly, but almost just as certainly, Howard Androcoelho. She'd heard about the bodies near the dam almost before the police had. Mattatuck was that kind of place. The guy who found the bodies called his brother-in-law before he called 911. His brother-in-law told his wife, his wife told her sister-in-law, her sister-in-law worked in Morton's front office. Yes, Charlene knew they would be coming. It was the way these people think.

There were two cars parked behind the family cars in the driveway, and two young men waiting behind the steering wheels. Why should it surprise her that Gregor Demarkian came with his own driver? Maybe the town was paying for that. That would be something to bring up at the next town council meeting.

Actually, Charlene missed the old town government, where everybody got together at a town meeting and voted on every little thing. You could do a lot with town meetings if you knew how to negotiate them.

The doorbell rang. Charlene pushed her hair back into place. She should have gone in to work today. She always did go in to work. It was just that, over the last few weeks, she had been feeling more and more tired.

The doorbell rang again. Charlene went out into the foyer and opened it. It was Howard Androcoelho who was standing right there in front, as if having someone she'd known forever come and talk to her about these things would make them better.

She stepped back and let Howard and Gregor Demarkian come inside.

“We checked for you over at the office,” Howard said, “they said you weren't feeling well and you'd stayed home. Mr. Demarkian here wants to talk to you.”

“I know,” Charlene said.

She turned her back to them and marched into the living room. She sat down in the big wingback chair that was always called hers in the family, and folded her hands in her lap. The two men came in. Howard looked around vaguely and then sat down on the couch. Gregor Demarkian remained standing.

“Well?” Charlene said.

“Well.” Howard cleared his throat. “We've had a murder,” he said finally. “We've had two murders, actually. Althea Michaelman and Mike Katowski. You remember Althy, Charlene. She went to school with us.”

“Of course I remember Althy,” she said. “Not that she was ever a friend of mine. Or of yours, from what I remember. What does any of this have to do with me?”

“Ah,” Howard said. “Well. For one thing, it was right over in the back there, near the dam, you could walk to the Morton offices from it. We're looking at everybody and everyplace in the area, you know, to see if anybody saw anything.”

“To see if ‘anybody saw anything'? Our offices close at five o'clock and they don't open again until eight.”

“Yes, I know, Charlene, but you know how it is. Just in case somebody saw something. Just in case somebody was working late.”

“Don't be a fool,” Charlene said. “Nobody works that kind of late.”

“Yes. Well.” Howard was looking more uncomfortable by the second. Charlene wanted to laugh out loud. “We have to check, you know,” he said. “It's not good police work if we don't check. And if anybody is going to know what's going on in the neighborhood, it's going to be you, Charlene. You know that.”

“I don't know what's going on in that neighborhood at one o'clock in the morning. I'm home in bed at one o'clock in the morning.”

“Yes, well. I know, Charlene, I know, but there's more to it. Mr. Demarkian here had an idea. And I've got to admit, it's kind of an interesting idea.”

“What idea was that?” Charlene said.

Gregor Demarkian seemed to have been looking out the window. Now he turned back to them. Charlene didn't like Gregor Demarkian. She didn't like him one bit. He had bad eyes.

“Well?” she said.

“There were two bodies,” Demarkian said. “They were both found, shot, in the front seat of a black pickup truck. A black Ford pickup truck.”

“So?” Charlene said.

“Your son, I believe, had a black Ford pickup truck.”

“So?” Charlene said again. “That was twelve years ago. And he didn't take it with him. There are a lot of black Ford pickup trucks.”

“I agree, but the age of this one looks to be about right,” Gregor said. “You say Chester didn't take the truck with him when he left. What happened to it?”

“I kept it,” Charlene said.

“Are you still keeping it?” Gregor asked.

“No,” Charlene said. “No. After a while, I don't remember how long, after a while I got rid of it. I hated looking at it.”

“The truck was here?” Demarkian asked.

“It was after a while,” Charlene said. “It was parked over there at the trailer park, and I couldn't stand it. I really couldn't. Those people over there. They've got no respect for property. They've got no respect for anything. I went over one afternoon and somebody had spray painted on it. So I got my son Mark to drive it back here, and I got it cleaned up. After that, it just stayed in the garage.”

“For how long?”

“Like I said. For a while.”

“A month, two months, a year?”

“I don't
know,
” Charlene said. “A couple of months, I guess. Something like that. I had other things on my mind.”

“What did you do with it?”

“I sold it,” Charlene said. “What else do you do with a car you don't want?”

“There are a number of things,” Gregor Demarkian said. “You can give it to charity. You can junk it. Did you sell it to a car dealership?”

“No,” Charlene said. “We put up notices, you know, on those bulletin boards in the grocery store, and we put a notice in the paper. It didn't take that long. I wasn't selling it for all that much.”

“So, let me get this straight,” Gregor Demarkian said. “You put out ads to sell the truck only a couple of months after your son disappeared—”

“Well, I didn't think he'd disappeared,” Charlene said. “I thought he was dead. I had every reason to think he was dead. He loved that truck. He worshipped it. I didn't think he'd go anywhere without it. And then I just wanted it out of the garage, out of my life, where I didn't have to look at it anymore. I wanted it away.”

“Do you remember the person you sold it to?”

Charlene shrugged. “Just some kid. Some college kid, Chester's own age or younger, I'd guess.”

“You don't remember his name?”

“No.”

“Did he pay you by cash or check?”

“Cash.”

“How much?”

“Twenty-five hundred dollars.”

“Twenty-five hundred dollars for a pickup truck that was, at that point, nearly brand new?” Gregor Demarkian looked surprised. “Was it banged up in some way I haven't been told? That has to be significantly below book value.”

“It wasn't banged up in any way,” Charlene said, “and of course that was significantly below book value. I told you. I wanted to get rid of it.”

“Do you have paperwork from that transaction?” Gregor asked. “A bill of sale, or a receipt, anything?”

“No, of course not. The buyer gets all that kind of thing. And it was years ago. It's not the kind of thing you keep.”

“And you don't remember this kid's name?”

“No, really, I don't.”

“It's all right,” Howard Androcoelho put in quickly. “The kid would have had to register the truck. If we know the approximate date, and we've got anything at all—we could look up Chester's own registration. Then we could use the computer, and we'd find it eventually. Who the kid was, I mean.”

“Good,” Charlene said. “You do that.”

Demarkian rubbed his hand against the side of his face. “Did you see or speak to your son between the time he came back to Mattatuck and the time the body was discovered?”

“You mean did he show up on my doorstep and try to offer me an explanation?” Charlene said. “No. I had no idea he was in town. I had no idea he was even thinking of coming back to town.”

“All right,” Gregor Demarkian said. “Thank you.”

“That's it?” Howard Androcoelho said. “That's all? I'm sorry, Charlene, I didn't realize it was going to be so—”

“Oh, for God's sake, Howard,” Charlene said. “Go to hell. Get out of my house and go to hell. I've got nothing to do with two strange people being shot dead just because they had a pickup truck the same color as the one Chester used to have, and you know it.”

2

Penny London woke up for the second time because her phone was ringing. When she sat up in bed and looked around, she wasn't sure where she was.

It got clearer when her eyes were finally able to focus. She was in a hotel room, at the Howard Johnson, that belonged to Mr. Demarkian's driver, who was named Tony. She remembered all that from the night before. She was sleeping in a little, since Tony would not be coming back to the room until the end of the day. Mr. Demarkian had had to go out. He had woken her up and told her that …

She checked the clock at the side of the bed. Hours ago. It must have been hours ago since he left. It was nearly noon.

The phone stopped ringing. She picked it up and it started ringing again. She saw Graham's picture in the little ID window. She made a face at it. Then she picked it up.

“Graham,” she said. “How are you? Aren't you supposed to be at work? Isn't this the middle of the workday?”

“I am at work,” Graham said. “I'm a goddamned lawyer. I can talk on the phone in the middle of the day if I want to.”

“You're an associate in a big firm,” Penny said. “You know how hard it is to make partner. You can't afford to let your bosses think that you're taking care of personal business in the middle of the day.”

“And you're damned near sixty years old. You can't afford to sleep in your car.”