Compulsion (14 page)

"I’ve learned a lot more.  Why do you ask?"

"Had he shared his criminal record with you?" I asked.

"Yes," she said.  "But I didn’t make much of it.  I knew about his drinking."

Not making much of marrying a man who had beaten his first wife — drunk or sober — seemed peculiar.  "What exactly did he tell you?" I asked.

"He told me about a barroom brawl that led to an assault charge," she said.  "It was around 1980, I think.  There was mention of it in the paper when Win was arrested for drunk driving."

I shook my head.  "That isn’t what the newspaper was referring to," I said.  Your husband pled guilty to assault and battery of his former wife, Lauren, along with violating a restraining order she had taken out.  He got the year right, but that’s about it."

She looked at me as if I must be joking.  Then, seeing that I wasn’t, she leaned toward me, incredulous.  "I had no idea," she said.  She let her head drop into her hands.  "I’ve been so stupid."

It felt like the right moment to introduce the idea of Tess Bishop staying grandparents.  "The question I would ask yourself, Julia, is whether it’s completely clear to you that Billy is the one who took Brooke’s life."

She looked up.  "What do you mean?"

"Billy denies hurting his sister."

"Of course he does," she said.  "He never admits any of the destructive things he does."

"So you’re convinced he’s responsible?"

"Well, yes."

I took the leap.  "It isn’t possible your husband is involved?"

She squinted at me.  "You’re saying you think Win might have done this?"

"I’m saying the facts of the case aren’t clear to me yet.  Darwin does have an extensive history of being abusive — toward you, Billy, and Garret.  And the pattern goes back even further, to his first marriage."

Julia seemed lost in thought.

"He’s the only one in the house who has a known history of violence toward family members," I pressed.

"He never wanted the twins," she said blankly.

I relaxed a bit, thinking she might cooperate with the idea of getting Tess to a safer place.  "Tell me more about that," I said.

"He never wanted children of our own.  I mean, biological children.  He made it very difficult for me when I was pregnant.  I nearly went through with an abortion."  She squinted down at the table, remembering.  "I’ve wondered whether God is punishing me for that."

"You showed  a lot of strength going through with the pregnancy," I said.  "I don’t know why you’d be punished."

"I wanted children so much," she said.  She caught her lip between her teeth.

I waited a few moments.  "Why didn’t Darwin want them?" I said softly.

"According to him, it has to do with the war," she said, looking up at me.  "He won’t talk about Vietnam, except to say that he saw horrible things there, things that convinced him it wasn’t fair to bring children into the world."  She rolled her eyes.  "It’s a bit of a cliché."

"You don’t buy it," I said.

"No.  I don’t."

"What do you think his real reason is?"

"It’s about maintaining control," she said.  "Win is incapable of intimacy.  I think he felt having a son or daughter together — let alone twins — would connect him too closely with me, not to mention the child.  No matter how much you love adopted children, they aren’t blood.  It isn’t the same."  She paused.  "He sees me as a combination concubine and governess, not a wife and mother.  Those roles would give me too much power."

"Did you object to adopting Billy?" I asked.

"I questioned Win’s motives, that was all," Julia said.

"Why?" I asked.

"Win had driven Billy’s father out of business," she said.  "The two of them owned competing mining companies.  It was a very tough time.  Win almost lost everything, but he ended up on top, as usual.  Then, about five months later, Billy’s parents were murdered.  I felt Win was playing Gandhi, adopting a rival’s child."

I was stunned by the connection, particularly because Bishop had never mentioned it.  Had he been silent out of humility?  "It does sound admirable," I ventured.

"It may
sound
that way," she said.  "But I’m quite certain he was just posturing for his business associates in Russia, faking his concern for Billy to impress them.  He never showed Billy any love."

I could have told her even more about the real Darwin Bishop, including what I knew about his affair with Claire Buckley.  But it wasn’t the right time.  And I wasn’t at all sure it was my place.  "The question I want to raise is whether it might be safer to have Tess stay somewhere outside the house," I said.  "Maybe with your parents, or with friends."

"I don’t know if I could do that," she deadpanned.

"Why not?"

"Darwin would never allow it," she said.

Those words certainly spoke to Bishop’s psychological control over his wife.  "You could do it on your own.  You have every right..."

Rights don’t necessarily hold up when you’re dealing with someone like him," she said.

"Why is that?"

"The few times I’ve broached the idea of a separation, he’s made it clear he wouldn’t let it happen."

"What choice would he have?"

Julia smiled for an instant, as if she was going to explain something about the world to a child.  Then her face fell again.  "Being Darwin Bishop expands the range of possibilities," she said.  "There could be a whole legal team filing endless motions for custody of our children, a media campaign to ruin my reputation and influence judges, months of travel with Garret and Tess to any one of a dozen different countries Darwin does business in.  He could probably pay Claire enough to convince her to go with him.  He might even decide that they should never return."

"And Claire would stay with him?" I asked, wanting to see whether Julia would volunteer any suspicions about the affair.

"Everyone has a price, Frank," she said.  "Claire isn’t from money.  She’s very impressed by it."

Julia certainly didn’t seem naïve about her nanny.  But her response didn’t tell me exactly how much she knew about Claire’s behavior.  I didn’t want to press her.  "The bottom line," I said, "is that Darwin would go to great lengths to keep you from divorcing him."

"Or I suppose I could just disappear."

"You’re saying he’d..."

"I’m saying I’m not brave enough to find out, Frank," Julia said.  "At least I haven’t been in the past.  I've never had the courage to walk away."

"Maybe it’s time."

"Maybe.  Maybe that’s one reason I called you.  You make me feel like I could do it," she said.

The idea of rescuing a woman was a potent drug for me.  "Only because you can," I said.  "As soon as you believe it."

She nodded to herself, then focused on me with a new intensity.  "Do you really think Tess could be in danger?  You believe Darwin is capable of killing our daughter?  His own flesh and blood?"

I hadn’t had the question put to me so directly before.  I thought about it for several seconds.  I thought about Julia’s belief that Bishop craved control, that he couldn’t tolerate intimacy.  I thought about the parts of his own soul he had snuffed out.  "Yes," I said.  "I think he is."

She kept staring at me.  She seemed on the verge of agreeing to get Tess to a safer place.  But then her gaze fell — maybe under the weight of so many years bending her will to Darwin Bishop’s.  "I have to think about this," she said.

"I hope you’ll think about it sooner rather than later," I said.  Later as in
too late
, I thought to myself.

She looked back at me, hopefully.  "Will you be at Brooke’s..." she said, then stopped, choked up.  She waited a bit, took another deep breath.  "Will you be at Brooke’s funeral tomorrow?  It’s on the island.  St. Mary’s on Federal Street.  Five
P.M.
"  She had to pause again.  "Darwin wants the sun to be setting as the mass ends."

Another possible reason why Bishop would prefer an evening funeral mass occurred to me; the stock market closes at 4:30
P.M.
  "I’d like to be there," I said.  "I’m not sure Darwin would be comfortable with my attending, given the ongoing investigation."

"I want you there," she said.  "I need you there, whether Win has a problem with it or not."

"Then I will be."

"Thank you," she said softly.

I told Julia I would walk her to her car.  I was on my way out of Bomboa, with Julia a few steps in from of me, when K.C. Hidalgo caught my arm.  I stopped.

"She’s terrific," K.C. said.  "You look great together."  He winked at Julia, who had stopped near the door.

"It would be mixing business with pleasure," I said, half to remind myself.  "Probably a recipe for disaster."

"What a pleasure, though," he said.

K.C. was living with the night manager of his joint, a stunner named Yvette.  "I’ll take that from where it comes," I said.  "Say hello to Yvette for me."

"You got it."  He paused.  "Hey, one other thing, champ," he said.  He leaned toward me.  "When you ordered that Sambuca?  I had already told Stevie at the bar not to serve you any booze.  Try sneaking another drink at my place, I’ll lock you in the fucking basement and throw away the key until you’re good and dry."

I forced a smile.

"I mean it," he said.

"You’re a good guy, K.C."

"Get a hold of yourself, will you?"

"Sure," I said.  "I will.  Trust me on this."

"Right," K.C. said.  His tone made it clear he wasn’t buying my bullshit.  "I’m here if you need me."

I caught up with Julia.  We walked outside.

"My car is in the Dartmouth Street garage," she said.  We started down Stanhope, headed toward Dartmouth.  But within several steps, Julia stopped.  "I’m okay alone," she said.

"I don’t mind the walk," I said.

She glanced across the street.  "It’s not a good idea."

I followed her eyes and saw a white Range Rover with smoked windows.  I assumed it was one of Darwin Bishop’s.  I felt a rush of adrenaline.  "He’s having you followed?" I said.

"Unlikely," she said.  "He’s probably having you followed."  She held out her hand.  "Shake," she said.  "All very businesslike, right?"

I took her hand, but just held it.  She looked into my eyes with what I read as a combination of tenderness and fear.  "I’ll see you tomorrow night," I said.  I let go of her hand.

She nodded tentatively, turned around, and headed toward the Dartmouth Street garage.

I crossed the street and walked up to the Range Rover.  I couldn’t see through the driver’s side window, so I knocked on the glass.  The window came down.  A man who looked to be in his mid-thirties was in the driver’s seat.  His neck was weight-lifter thick, his face half-shaven.  He was wearing a blousy silk shirt, but it covered an obviously large frame.

"Can I help you with something?" he said, without any emotion.

"I want to get a message to your employer," I said.

He didn’t respond, but he didn’t close the window.

"Tell Mr. Bishop I don’t mind if he has me followed.  I don’t mind if he visits me, either.  I live at Thirty-nine Winnisimmet Street in Chelsea.  Top floor.  Unit Five B.  I’m there a fair amount, almost always in the late part of the evening."

"I’ll be sure to do that," the man said.

I started to leave, but turned back.  "One more thing:  Since I’m not a kid and I’m not female, tell him he can expect to have a tougher time with me than his usual targets.  He might want to bring someone like you along to give him a hand."

Chapter 8

The telephone was ringing when I walked into my loft, but I got to it too late.  I glanced at the answering machine.  It had registered thirty-one calls, but used up less than a minute of talk time.  That meant lots of hangups.  I was about to scroll through them for caller IDs when the phone started ringing again.  I grabbed it.  "Clevenger," I said.

"How many psychiatrists does it take to change a light bulb?"

I recognized Billy Bishop’s voice.  "Where are you?" I asked.

"C’mon," he said.  "How many?"

"Three," I guessed, to appease him.

"Just one," he said "but the light bulb has to want to change."

"Okay," I said.  "Pretty funny.  Now, where are you?"

"I’m not locked up in that loony bin," he said.

I glanced at the caller I’d.  It read, ‘Unknown Caller.’  I figured Billy was probably at a pay phone.  "Are you all right?"

"I’m fine, if you forget the part about my father trying to throw me in jail for life.  It would take an awful lot of therapy to get my mind off something like that, don't you think?"

I smiled, despite the gravity of the situation.  "I guess you’re right."  I paused.  "Tell me where you are," I said.  "I’ll meet you."

"No.  And I can’t stay on the line long," he said.  "I need you to loan me a little money.  I’ll pay you back.  I promise.  I’m good for it."

I wanted to slow things down and coax Billy back into the hospital, even though he would certainly be arrested.  As risky as navigating the judicial system might be for him, it was a lot safer than the streets.  And Billy wasn’t the only person in peril; I hadn’t forgotten that his history of violence meant he might strike out in unpredictable, very destructive ways.  "I think you made a mistake leaving Payne Whitney," I said.  "I think you’re better off going back and getting a lawyer to fight for you."

"Thanks for the advice," he said.  "Will you do life with me?"

"They have to prove you’re guilty," I said.

"I need money," he said.  "That’s all I need right now."

"Where can I meet you?"

"Like I said, you can’t.  There’s a safe place where you can leave it for me.  I have somebody who can grab it and bring it to me."

"Where are you?" I pushed.

"Can I have the money?" he asked.  "You know I didn’t kill Brooke.  You
know
it."

He was starting to sound desperate.  I gambled he was desperate enough to trust me.  "Not unless we can meet face-to-face," I said.

"Impossible," he said.

"That’s the deal, Billy.  Take it or leave it."