Art's Blood (38 page)

“And then Kyra came along,” prompted Elizabeth.

Peterson looked up in surprise. “No, not then. Our baby, Rose’s and mine, was born early while we were traveling in Europe. He was a boy and he lived only a few hours. Rose had a bad time of it and the doctor said she should never attempt another pregnancy.”

B
UT THE DOCTOR WAS WRONG.”
E
LIZABETH LEANED
forward. “Kyra—”

“Kyra isn’t Rose’s child.” Marvin Peterson lifted his gaze from the tabletop. “The birth— and death— of our son was the end of our…of our marital relations. I blamed myself for what had happened and, though I loved Rose as much as ever, I became unable to…perform…with her, at least.”

Once again his eyes were studying the tabletop. “She was so fragile— and the doctor had told me that the birth of our son had almost killed her— and after that I couldn’t…didn’t want to…She would beg me for another baby but…” His brow creased. “It was as if those few moments she had held our child had awakened some terrible hunger. She wanted a child and she wanted it soon. And she didn’t want anyone to know it wasn’t her natural child.

“It was Rose’s idea that we find a surrogate mother— someone small and blonde like her. Rose was so determined— she said that at least the baby would be part of me if not her. She planned it all— she would pretend to be pregnant while the surrogate was actually carrying the child. We would arrange for a phony home birth— with enough money we could find a doctor to go along with all this— to take place when the surrogate delivered. The surrogate would hand the child over and we’d be parents again.”

Peterson paused. “I’m not sure— Rose didn’t actually ever say this but I believe she was afraid that Lily might not want her considerable fortune to end up with an adopted child. I didn’t give a damn what Lily thought or where she left her money— I had plenty of money myself— but it was important to Rose that our child be accepted as blood kin.

“So Rose insisted on the surrogate and the phony pregnancy and I agreed. It wasn’t that difficult. I knew a lawyer who had a little sideline in discreet arrangements of that sort. It didn’t take long: he found a girl— a college girl who needed money to get her master’s degree in English. From her picture, she could have been Rose’s sister. It’s amazing what a little money can do.”

He laughed sourly. “Well, actually, it was a lot of money, I guess, but it worked. The girl signed away all rights to the baby and from the beginning the child looked like Rose. Aside from the two of us, the lawyer and the doctor were the only ones who knew the truth…and, of course, the natural mother. Several years went by and little Kyra was so beautiful and so perfect that I think Rose had managed to put our whole deception out of her mind. She was completely happy as a mother and I began to think that another child might be in order.

“Rose was agreeable— not enthusiastic, but agreeable. Little Kyra had fulfilled her hunger for motherhood but I wanted a son, like the one we’d lost. This time Rose didn’t insist on the whole phony pregnancy thing— everyone would know that this second child was an adoption. It really didn’t matter; by then I had more money than Lily. And so my lawyer contacted the same woman and offered her a substantial sum to undertake a second pregnancy. And once again she was willing. I made my deposit at the doctor’s office and ten months later the doctor brought us our new child— almost a replica of Kyra— but a boy, the son I’d wanted.”

“I don’t understand…I thought Kyra was your only child.”

Peterson shook his head. “We had the faithful Reba to care for Kyra and of course we hired a nurse for the new baby. Rose wasn’t able to cope with Kyra all day long. Even at five, Kyra had a real mind of her own— just like Kyra at twenty-seven.

“So little Marvin junior was installed and Kyra seemed fascinated by him. She spent long hours just hanging over the crib and staring at him.”

Peterson fell silent, then resumed his story. “Marvin junior wasn’t a month old when I had to go away on business. I was to be gone for several weeks and during this time I called home every night. About a week had passed when I called as usual. Not Rose but Lily was put on the line and she told me very succinctly that there had beena…I think she said ‘a problem’ and that the baby was in the hospital. Nothing serious— a ‘minor injury,’ she assured me.

“Lily went on to say that another child was too much for Rose to take care of, physically or emotionally, and that she was looking into returning this child to its mother. ‘Rose agrees it would be best,’ she said in that tone of voice of hers that turns people to stone.

“I asked to speak to Rose and Lily told me that Rose and Kyra had gone on a little trip and would be back when I returned. ‘Rose and I feel that it will be less traumatic for Kyra if the baby is gone when she returns. At her age she’ll soon forget him.’ I can still hear those words.” Peterson’s face was expressionless. “I could hardly believe—”

“But that’s terrible!” The words burst out before Elizabeth could call them back. “The baby was your own blood— your son— how could you let them—?”

Marvin Peterson’s lips tightened. “I canceled the rest of my meetings and flew home that night. Lily met me at the door of my house and told me that my…that the baby’s mother had been delighted to reclaim her child. Lily was so opposed to Kyra’s having an adopted brother that I think she actually
paid
the woman to take back her own child! Final adoption papers had not been signed and there was little I could do in the face of such opposition from Lily— and Rose.”

“Rose didn’t mind returning the baby?”

“No, not at all. I think really that she was relieved. As I told you, the second child was my idea; Rose had been more or less indifferent. And I’ll have to admit— Marvin junior was not an easy baby— colicky, the nurse said. When he was picked up, he would go stiff and start to scream. Kyra had been difficult too, at the beginning, but when Reba came to us, Kyra had turned into a little angel. I had hoped that Reba could work her magic with the new baby, but she couldn’t…or wouldn’t. ‘I got no time fer another young un,’ she told me, ‘Miss Kyra’s enough fer me to see to.’ ”

His face hardened. “So there I was. I’d brought this screaming infant into the house and suddenly our pleasant lifestyle was shot to hell. Rose never actually…what’s the term?
…bonded
with the new baby; as a matter of fact, she avoided him as much as possible. And then there were Miss Lily and Reba— they were actively opposed to the idea of a second child. You can’t imagine how strong-willed those two women are.”

Peterson looked at her, reading the disapproval in her face. “You have to understand; this…situation was upsetting Rose. I did what I had to: made ample provision for the boy and his mother but never tried to see them. Rose asked that I make that promise. My lawyer knows where they are and takes care of the financial side. But I kept my promise to Rose, even after—” He broke off, as though the words
she died
stuck in his throat.

“But Kimmie. You set up a second household with her— in spite of all this love for Rose.”

“Kimmie was…well, at first she was just an…an outlet, a convenience. I couldn’t make love to Rose anymore but I found I had no trouble at all screwing my sweet little secretary. And I needed that, to feel like I was still a man. The second house and all that…well, things just escalated and I found myself caring about Kimmie too. She was just an ordinary girl from a trailer park outside of Asheville. When I was with her I could sit around in my undershirt and drink beer and watch TV. With Rose, almost every night was a social occasion and I always had to take care so that the son of the migrant worker didn’t show through the fancy façade I’d created.”

“Then it was
convenient
for you when Rose was killed.”

Peterson stiffened and glared at her. “You need to understand this. I loved Rose more than I’ve ever loved anyone. I still love her. When she died…When she died I blamed myself.”

“Why was that?” A heartless question but she had to know.

“In my early years I sailed pretty close to the wind, and some of my…associates were…I guess you could say, on the wrong side of the law. I knew there were those who probably thought they got a raw deal when I went legitimate, and I knew there was a chance they might try to get back at me through my family…. There was a state-of-the-art alarm system; I thought she’d be safe…that no one could get in, but they did, right into that room of hers that was like a saint’s shrine, all white and gold and silk and lace.”

He buried his face in his hands.

“It’s the strangest story, Phillip. They paid this woman to have a second child for them and then when they got him—‘took delivery of him’ might be the appropriate term— they kept him a few weeks and then just sent him back— like returning a pair of shoes that didn’t fit. The baby was disrupting their lifestyle, for god’s sake!”

They were having dinner at Phillip’s rented house in Weaverville. He had purchased several ready-to-microwave side dishes from a local eatery and had, with a minimal amount of fanfare, produced barbecued chicken from the grill on his deck.

“So what was the problem?” He filled her glass with wine and offered the dish of Chinese-style green beans. “What was this ‘minor injury’ that put the baby in the hospital?”

“Peterson didn’t say— I don’t know if he ever found out…he says he never saw the child again. He just told me that he had paid the mother a substantial sum for, how did he put it? ‘undertaking the second pregnancy’ and that he had, over the years, made sure that the child was adequately supported. And he said that Lily may have paid the mother something for taking the child back. Something about Lily not wanting Kyra to have competition in the form of an adopted brother. And he couldn’t tell Lily the truth about Kyra because he had promised Rose. To this day, only he and the natural mother know the truth— and the lawyer and the doctor who were involved, I guess.”

Phillip sipped his wine and considered. “The kid they sent back is probably better off not being part of that crazy bunch. They are one hell of a strange family. First Kyra wants to tie Boz’s death to her mother’s murder— and blame both on her father. Now she’s done a three-sixty. When I got home this afternoon there was a message from her on the voice mail. You gotta hear this.” He tapped in the appropriate numbers on his phone and handed the instrument to Elizabeth.

Kyra’s voice sounded in her ear, almost a whisper but unmistakable:
Phillip, I think maybe I’ve been wrong about my father…. We’ve gotten closer these past few days, you know, really talked and I think…I don’t know; I’m all confused…. I’ve hated him and been afraid of him for so long but now I don’t know…. What if I’ve been wrong all these years and wasted time hating him…hating the wrong person?

I really need to talk to you about things, Phillip…. GeeGee…she’s been so strange recently…either she’s just staring out the window or she’s writing in this little journal she has. And the way she looks at me sometimes…

Really, please call me; I have to talk to you. Please, Phillip…And there’s another thing: right before Kimmie got so sick, she ate some of this special soup GeeGee sent her. Kimmie’s the only one who had any…. I saved the jar it was in.

The message ended.

“Do you think that Kyra has maybe lost touch with reality here?” Elizabeth asked Phillip. “I mean, really, that frail old lady whose driver carried her up the steps to my house…”

Phillip was looking at her expectantly but he said nothing.

“Okay, so that doesn’t mean she’s helpless; she could have Buckley doing the dirty work. But what would be the point? She’s evidently accepted the situation with Kimmie till now—”

“Till now.” Phillip nodded in agreement. “But then Kimmie got pregnant. And that pregnancy meant that Kyra was no longer the sole heir to Peterson’s fortune— some of which had come to him through Rose.”

“Are you saying that Mrs. Gordon was trying to
kill
Kimmie to protect Kyra? I don’t know, Phillip….”

“Neither do I. But I’m sure as hell going to suggest to Hank that somebody take a look at that soup Kyra’s saved.”

Elizabeth helped Hawkins clear the table and sat on a kitchen stool, sipping her coffee as he loaded the dishwasher. Her thoughts tumbled in confusion. “There’re just too many loose ends. What about Boz? Who do you think is responsible for his death?”

Phillip gave the countertop a final swipe with a sponge and put out his hand. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s go for a walk.”

They strolled along the footpaths that wound around Lake Louise, a pretty man-made body of water near Phillip’s rented cottage. The cool of the evening attracted many to the little park: dedicated joggers, stretching elaborately before beginning their humorless rounds; children, running and shrieking with savage delight at their twilight games; elderly couples, sitting on benches, chatting in quiet tones or silently enjoying the various people and pursuits that swirled around them.

Phillip broke their silence. “You asked who I think murdered Boz. Hank tells me that the Asheville PD is just about ready to make an arrest. Like I said, it’s Travis’s old daddy. Evidently he’s not as bad off healthwise, as Travis led us to think. He’s the one behind the meth lab and, if he didn’t put the bullet in Boz’s head, he could have ordered it done. He’s got three tough, bad old boys working for him—”

“Travis? Is he one of them? The drug dealers?”

“Hank said they don’t think so. Evidently Daddy tried to keep Travis clear of the wrong side of the business. And Travis turns out to have a rock-solid alibi for the time of death.”

Elizabeth mulled this over as they approached a bench where a middle-aged couple was locked in a passionate embrace.

“Boz was such a big guy; it seems like he would have put up a fight— there would have been signs of a struggle. Did your friend— did Hank have any information about the autopsy?”