The Chilling Spree (36 page)

“You’re talking about gender reassignment
surgery.”

“Of course I am.  Marion quietly agrees
with
him
on this issue, that Kylie is too young to make such
a life changing decision.  I on the other hand, believe that
this decision was made years ago, when my son committed to living
his life as a woman.”

“You think that surgical alteration will
make the world be more accepting of your son?”  It had to be
asked – officially – though I already knew the answer.

“Of course it would!  The beauty of it
is that Kylie will be able to openly pursue relationships with men,
without being deceitful, without having to pretend to be what he
really wants to be.”

And Goddard was beyond naïve.  I
thought of the ever growing number of men who committed murder
after learning the original gender of women with whom they’d shared
intimate relations.  Galled as I was to admit it, I agreed
with Scott Madden about his nephew.  Still, it was the
pretense that probably got Kyle murdered in the first place. 
Was he doomed to this fate no matter what he did?  I silently
wished for a world that had room for the random differences in
humanity, the ability to recognize the beauty of a richly diverse
species.

“Detective Eriksson, did my brother do
something to my son?”

“I’m not sure who did this,” I
murmured.  “The more information I learn, the more I feel that
there are a number of people who bear responsibility, whether they
were directly involved or not.”

“That sounds like something very terrible
has happened.  Where is Kylie?  Why isn’t he giving you
the answers to your questions?”

“It’s more complicated than one person’s
perspective, Dr. Goddard.  When was the last time you had an
actual conversation with Scott?”

He shook his head.  “A couple of years
ago.  At least five.  I made it clear that I wanted
nothing to do with him or his entourage.”

“You’ve met the people that work for your
brother?”

“Some of them, one in particular who I
cannot believe my brother, who I hear now has had some sort of deep
religious awakening, would keep in his circle of friends.”

“Do you recall that person’s name?”

“Underwood,” Goddard said with another
grunt, “though my brother at the time called him something
else.  Underpants, I think.  He was unkind to my
son.”

“In what way?”  I imagined what sort of
cruelty anyone could visit on a child at any age if Goddard’s
memory was faulty.

“He made Kylie cry, teasing him about
wearing a dress to see his uncle,” Goddard said, “but only after
Scott mentioned that Kylie was actually a boy.”

My lips rolled inward.  “I see.” 
Problem was, I didn’t really see.  Why would Madden out his
nephew to someone he long suspected was discharged from the
military because of gay bashing? 

I changed the subject.  “Do you think
your brother’s religious experience might’ve changed the way that
he behaves?”

“Scott?” he snorted.  “Hell no. 
I’m not even sure which flavor he’s eating this week.  First
it was Buddhist, which I think is what he still lets his public
relations minions put out there to the press, then it was some sort
of shamanism thing, probably because they turned him on to drugs
that aren’t illegal – yet.  Last Rham told me, he was dabbling
in some sort of extreme sect of Christianity.  I just thank
God that our mother isn’t alive to watch him spit on the
Church.”

Did I really have to ask?  “Let me
guess.  Catholic.”

He shot me a look that sort of screamed,
is there anything else?
 

“Where is my son?  Can I see him, talk
to him, assess the damage that my hypocrite brother has inflicted
this time?”

“Unfortunately, Dr. Goddard, I’m afraid that
won’t be possible.”

“What?  Why not?”

“Your son Kyle was found murdered on New
Year’s Eve.  His best friend was killed a couple of nights
later.  We believe the deaths are related.”

“No!” he rasped.  “Why… why did you
talk to me about my son and make me think everything was all
right?  You… you cold hearted…”

The door swung open and Marion Goddard burst
into the room.  “This is all your fault!” she screamed. 
“Scott was right!  We should’ve never let him leave the house
dressed like a girl!”

Johnny was right behind her.  One red
handprint blossomed on his left cheek.  Mrs. Goddard must’ve
taken him by surprise.

“Where is he?” Goddard ignored his
hysterical wife and in the process, clearly defined dysfunctional
family.  “Tell me where my son is.”

“He’s at the Bay County Medical Examiner’s
Office,” I said.  “You’ll be notified when they’re ready to
release him for burial.”

Goddard nodded stoically.  “Come along,
Marion.  It’s time we go home.”

Johnny barely waited until they crossed the
threshold.  “Well?  Did your interview go better than
mine?”  He rubbed his cheek ruefully.

My wounded emotions where he was concerned
weren’t quite distracted enough to have the buddy-cop conversation
just yet.  Instead, I pulled out my cell phone and dialed a
number committed involuntarily to memory from New Year’s Day.

“Scott?”

He answered after one ring.

“Helen Eriksson here.  I’d like to take
you up on the offer for dinner.  Are you free tomorrow
night?”

Johnny slammed the door behind him.

“Sure, but from what I’m reading in the
paper –”

“Lies,” I said.  “You know how the
media can be.  From where I’m sitting, you’ve got the right
idea.”

“Do I?”  Amusement spiked in his
voice.  “How is that, Helen?”

“You’ve got publicists.  The police
have press officers.  You wouldn’t believe the incompetence in
that department.”

He chuckled softly.  “So that lovely
picture on the front page of the Sentinel… Photoshop?”

I laughed.  “I never said I was a
prude.  It just didn’t mean what Mrs. Conall insinuated. 
I’m a single woman, Scott.  I see who I please, when I
please.”

Whatever levity had blossomed died just as
quickly.  “So you’re not coming to talk to me about
Kyle?  I’ve been waiting for this Orion guy to follow up on
our conversation the other night all week.  Or word on when
the funeral will be.  Rham says that Theo and Marion aren’t
back in Darkwater Bay yet.”

“Scott, even if I knew anything, I couldn’t
talk to you about it.  I’m very sorry.  Let me distract
you from the brutal reality of life for a few hours.  I’d like
to do something to help.  Will you let me?”

“Sure,” he said softly.  “I’d like
that.  You’re very kind, Helen.”

Stupid man had no idea how far off the mark
he was on that one. 

“Where would you like to meet?”

Scott breathed heavily into my ear for a
moment.  “I’ve got a place here in Darkwater.  Nobody in
my world knows about it.  The place is on Hennessey
Island.”  He rattled off the address.  “For obvious
reasons, I’d rather not have a public dinner.  Is that all
right with you?”

“It’s fine.  I’d ask you to my place,
but it’s turned into a convalescent home of late.  Seven
o’clock?”

“See you then.”

Chapter 33

It was a tense drive back to my house in
Beach Cliffs.  Johnny clenched the steering wheel in a death
grip, and I suspected that his teeth would be ground off to bloody
nubs before we ever hit my driveway.  The sweet intimacy that
had shrouded us when we left home was now as absent as Darkwater’s
trademark fog.

I wasn’t about to soothe away whatever
pissed him off now.  I doubted it was jealousy.  How
could it be?  He didn’t respect me anymore, probably thought I
was a murderer.  Well, I am, technically.  It’s just so
tangled up in my head anymore, I’m not sure what’s true and what’s
fiction that I’ve created.

“Marion Goddard insinuated that she believes
her husband used the wrong approach with Kyle while they raised
him,” he finally cut through the vicious silence with sharp
words.  “I’m inclined to believe she’s right.”

I didn’t respond.

“Goddard say anything important to you?”

“Maybe.”

“Helen, this isn’t the time for you to be
reluctant.  This is my case.  I need to know everything
he said to you.”

“Fine,
commander
.  He said many
interesting things, basically confirmed that he ruled his family
with an iron fist, and his wife’s opinion on how Kyle lived his
life was never considered, and especially not his brother’s
opinion.”

“So Madden was telling the truth about why
they had a rift?”

“Yes.”

“Anything else?”

I filled him in on the substance of the
conversation.  My SUV was idling in the garage of my house by
the time I finished the story.  “In my opinion, it warrants
another conversation with Scott Madden, particularly since Theo
Goddard is under the impression that his brother is no longer the
Zen dude his publicists want the world to believe he is.”

“Is that why you called him for a
date
?”

I opened the car door and cast a glare over
my shoulder at Johnny.  “What do you care either way?”

Fingers strangled the hell out of my left
bicep.  “Is this because I didn’t react to your little
bombshell earlier?”

Tears sprang to my eyes.  “You didn’t
want to hear it, Orion.  Don’t worry.  I won’t mention
any of it again.”  I twisted free of his grip and slid out of
the car.  Johnny had me pressed against the wall of the garage
before I got to the door.

“Like hell you won’t,” he snarled. 
“You sat there and told me you didn’t kill him, but you witnessed a
murder, Helen.  You destroyed evidence.  You let me cloak
your crime, and I’m supposed to just shrug and accept it?”

“You could’ve let me tell you everything
before you started judging me,” I wept.  Why did this hurt so
much?  It wasn’t like I was confessing the truth anyway.

“Then tell me now.”

“Why?  Haven’t you got enough excuses
to walk away yet?”

Johnny sucked in a deep breath.  “Tell
me because I love you, and I need to understand why you would
protect whoever killed your ex-husband.”

Our eyes met.  “Johnny…”

“I love you,” he said it again.  “It
doesn’t mean I understand how you could –”

No way was I throwing away an opportunity
that mended the crack in my heart.  I raised my hand in a gun
pose behind one ear.  “He killed himself.”

Something flickered in his eyes, memory,
recognition, understanding, I wasn’t sure what it was.  Not
until he opened his mouth and spoke.

“You argued.  Oh God, Helen.  He
tried to blackmail you.  That was when you found out Datello
was his cousin.”

“Yes,” I whispered.  That was as close
to the truth as I danced in the original lie.

“He said he should kill himself and you told
him…”

“I wished he would.”

“And he did it.”

“Johnny, do you remember it now?”

He nodded.  “Oh, Helen.  I’m so
sorry.  I shouldn’t have…”  His hands fell away from my
waist.  Johnny stepped away and turned his back.

“I panicked.  I figured that nobody
would believe that Rick killed himself.  For all intents and
purposes, it looked like an assassination.  Maybe that was his
final dig at me, I don’t know,” I said.  “I figured if nobody
could find the gun, they wouldn’t get any evidence from the scene
either.  They’d assume that Sully Marcos had him killed, that
he was afraid Rick would talk to the feds, cut a deal,
something.”

He nodded.  “I remember it,” he
said.  “I don’t know how I could’ve forgotten that.  It
tore me up, thinking you…”

I thought about Johnny’s reaction earlier,
realized that it was the part of the equation I didn’t witness the
first time around.  I didn’t watch the battle rage in his good
character between doing the right thing and protecting the woman he
loved.

“Was that why you went to see my
father?”

“I figured nobody knew you better than he
does, sweetheart.”

“He’s the one who told you how to frame
someone for Rick’s murder.”

Johnny laughed softly.  A disbelieving
sound.  “He used me, the cagey bastard.”

“What?”

“He knew goddamn well you didn’t kill your
husband.  But he must’ve known that the FBI would hound you
relentlessly too unless they had a viable alternate theory. 
God, he’s smart.”

I gripped Johnny’s arm and tugged until he
turned around.  “Tell me what really happened with Dad.”

“I told David Levine that I went to see him
because I figured nobody knew more about crime families on the east
coast than your father.”

“Yeah.”

“It was complete bullshit.  How would
he know anything about Marcos or his associates?  He’s been in
prison for twenty years.”

“He does know a lot about things like
that.”  I censored myself.  After all, just like Datello
knew where the bodies of his uncle’s buried victims were, I knew
full well about crimes my father committed that the authorities had
never uncovered. At least I thought I knew what his crimes
were.  I was certain that he had a justice system of his
own.

“Did you ever tell me that?”

I shook my head.

“Maybe I sensed something.”

“What are you saying?”

Johnny impaled me with a probing
stare.  “If Datello slips through the cracks and weasels out
of the charges against him somehow, what would you do?”

I broke the gaze and stared at one specific
button on his coat.  “I… I don’t know.”

“Bullshit.  Let me rephrase,” one index
finger tilted my chin up until he paralyzed me with that look
again.  “Would you be tempted to enact a little justice of
your own?”

Teeth sank into my fleshy lower lip.

“It’s a very human temptation, Helen. 
Don’t think I haven’t felt it over the years.  I know you felt
it when Southerby tried to kill me.”