Why Isn't Becky Twitchell Dead? (21 page)
Read Why Isn't Becky Twitchell Dead? Online
Authors: Mark Richard Zubro
Carolyn Blackburn stood in the school office. Dim emergency lights pushed long shadows into silent corners. We talked in the semidarkness. Back at the interstate, I'd asked for this meeting. Now I explained the details of what I intended to do.
“I trust you,” she said. She agreed to my plan.
I handed Carolyn a list. “I need to see these people separately. Could you telephone anybody whom we haven't seen already downstairs and get them to come over, and would you call them up here one at a time in this order?”
She glanced at the list. “It's a little late but I'll get them up here. I'll make the calls first.” She sat at the secretary's desk and began punching numbers on the phone. Carolyn said we could use her office for the interviews. I left only the emergency lights on, plus a low-powered desk lamp. would sit at her desk, ledger open in front of me, Scott standing behind me. I placed a lone chair in front of the desk.
While we waited for Carolyn to finish her calls, I used another line to call Frank Murphy. He filled us in on the latest at the farm. Cops had found the drugs they had saved from the fire hidden in an old storm cellar. The police had enough evidence
to lock all of them up for many years to come. They were talking to their lawyers and not to cops, but Frank exuded confidence about ultimate convictions for those in custody and imminent capture for George and Pete.
to lock all of them up for many years to come. They were talking to their lawyers and not to cops, but Frank exuded confidence about ultimate convictions for those in custody and imminent capture for George and Pete.
Paul and Becky remained in the clear at the moment. The kids had been pretty scared. Frank teased about maybe seeing us on the news. The case seemed pretty weak against some of the people connected with school, except George Windham and Pete Montini. Frank thought a ledger more directly connected to the school might be missing. They'd found ones for all the other local schools among numerous others.
“We'll look through all our stuff and give you a call later if we find anything,” I told him.
Frank gave a warning growl, but all he said was “Do that.”
Carolyn came into her office. “You guys ready?”
I nodded. Jeff's name topped the list. He shivered as he entered; I suspected it was more from fear than cold. 1 got him seated. The plan was for Carolyn to wait outside. She was our backup in case of trouble.
“What's going on?” Jeff gave a nervous laugh. “There's a rumor you busted some drug pushers. Did they kill Susan?”
“You lied to us,” I said. “You've been pushing drugs at school like everybody else. I want to hear about it, now.”
He hung his head and picked at the zipper on his jacket. He told a simple story. He started selling to get a few extra bucks, nothing deliberate, more casual than anything.
“How'd that connect with Susan?” I asked.
“She wasn't dealing, I swear.”
“Not that you knew of, anyway,” I said. “Who else did she have sex with?”
He shook his head. “Nobody.”
“You found out she was screwing anybody with something between his legs, and killed her in a fit of rage.”
“No!” he shouted. “Nobody else. She only slept with me. We loved each other.”
Scott said, “Then if nobody else had sex with her, it had to be you who made her pregnant.”
Jeff clamped his mouth shut. He looked close to tears. Finally, he whispered, “She couldn't have been doing it with anybody else. I'd have known, wouldn't I?” The eternal cry of the odd man out. I felt sorry for him. He didn't kill her. He had no other information for us. We sent him back to the game.
Eric came in next. In contrast to Jeff, he bounced in almost cheerfully. Seated in the chair, hands still bandaged, I saw him betray a squirm, however. His look at us was wary but he still smiled at me.
I was not friendly. “You lied to me,” I said. “You've been selling drugs for years. You've been in the center of the whole operation. You've known who and what all along. You jerked us around since the beginning.” I watched the cockiness drain from his body.
He started a protest but I cut him off. “You also told me all you did on Wednesday so I'd be suspicious of Becky. You wanted her out of the way, so you could take over her territory. But she found out and turned the tables, and you got a beating. She's tougher than you thought. You knew who beat you up. But yesterday when we talked, you still played a dangerous game. You wanted to get Becky but still not get caught yourself.”
“That's bullshit.”
I wanted to belt the shit out of him. “And you supplied drugs to Susan and Jeff. And what about your relationship with Susan?”
“I wasn't involved there.”
I slammed my fist on the desk. “Spare me your lies. You had sex with her.”
“Who said?”
“Does it matter? Is it true?”
In my view, his hesitation condemned him. “And you probably used a goddamn condom.”
“I always do when I have sex. But other guys had sex with her. Roger, Paul, lots of guys.”
“If you murdered her, we'll find out.”
“I didn't kill her,” he muttered.
“Who did?” I asked.
He sat up straight in the chair, pointed at me, and said, “You're a real jerk, Mason. I hung around with these guys because the drug business makes me money. Lots of it. I'm not going to be a fucking mechanic all my life. You are the one who got me off the hook for that petty shit, while I dealt drugs in your classroom when your back was turned.” He laughed. “What a sap you are.”
I didn't know whether he'd killed her or not, but I got no more truth out of him. He left.
Scott said, “Forget his bullshit.”
I shrugged. “I've got a murder to solve.”
“We didn't learn anything about the murder,” Scott pointed out.
Mr. and Mrs. Conlan entered next. Mrs. Conlan marched up to the desk, yelling and pointing her finger at me accusingly. She demanded a lawyer even before we said anything.
“Oh, shut up, Sylvia,” Mr. Conlan said. “They aren't cops. We'll answer their questions. We've done nothing illegal, unless protecting our son is a crime. The cops arrested that criminal Jeff Trask. These two investigated. They had no official standing. They wanted to slander our son, ruin his chances for football in college and for a professional career. We took prudent action. They can have no complaints. We didn't obstruct a police investigation. We told the police the truth.” He stared at us defiantly from the center of the room.
I said, “You tried to protect your kid with your position on the school board because you thought that even with your clout, if it got into the papers about your kid selling drugs, he'd be gone from the team and out of a career. Sorry, but your son deals and uses drugs, and he's a murder suspect.”
Mr. Conlan waved his fist in my face. “You son of a bitch. You have no proof for these accusations.”
“Don't I? Your son is free now because of my intervention.” I pointed to the ledger. “We've uncovered a vast drug network. He's free because I haven't turned this over to the police yet.”
“Let me see that,” he demanded.
I held it up to him. He examined where I pointed to Paul's name. He tried to grab it. I held tight and pulled back. I told him I had copies.
“They're fake,” he said.
“No. The police have used the ones 1 left them to arrest a number of bad guys. At the moment, I'm trying to solve a murder. If I don't turn this in, your son may get out of this yet.”
He put his fist on his hip and eyed me warily. “Wouldn't you try to protect your son?” He glared at me, expecting an answer. I kept silent.
He continued: “You know the absurd rules they have at this school. If a kid has anything to do with drugs, he's off the team. And colleges won't touch a kid these days if there's the faintest hint of scandal. What did you want me to do?”
I had no answer.
“I couldn't use my position on the board to change the rules. There wasn't time, and it would have been too obvious.”
“What did Paul tell you when he got home today?” Scott asked.
I looked to each of them, their pride and defiance shot to hell.
“The police dropped him off at the house only a few minutes before game time. He wouldn't say a word to us. We fought with him. We told him if he didn't talk, he couldn't play in the game. He walked out of the house without a word.”
“I almost feel sorry for you,” I said, and I meant it.
Several times during the conversation, Mrs. Conlan had said, “Harold, we don't have to listen to these evil men.” She said it
again now and this time her husband answered. He said, “Oh, shut up, you old fat cow.” They stormed out together.
again now and this time her husband answered. He said, “Oh, shut up, you old fat cow.” They stormed out together.
“Does this mean I don't have to go to the opera?” Scott asked.
He and I spoke little as Carolyn left to summon each new person. He held his hurt arm gingerly. I asked him about it. He claimed it didn't hurt. When I thought about it, I could feel my hand and shoulders ache. Occasionally, the remnant of a loud cheer drifted up this far from the gym. Mostly we listened to the onyx clock tick on Carolyn's desk, or stared at the cars in the filled parking lot.
Paul walked in. He looked at us carefully. “It's halftime. I'd like to be back for the end of the game.” Paul wore his basketball uniform. On him, it wasn't baggy. His height and muscles filled it powerfully. His tightly held shoulders and clenched fist told of his tension.
“You acted bravely and daringly earlier today,” I said. “Brave and foolish, but a friend of yours had died and you were ready to take action. I admire that.”
He nodded.
I asked him about drugs. He sat in a chair, head down. He filled in the blanks that there hadn't been time for earlier. In the last couple weeks, he'd felt that Becky had been dragging him in too deep, but he couldn't work up the courage to break away. I asked him about his relationship with Susan.
“She was Jeff's girl. I didn't really know her.”
“She was pregnant. Did you ever have sex with her?”
He slowly looked up. “No. Yeah. Who said I did?”
I gazed at him evenly.
He hung his head. “Yeah, I did. The other guys said she was wild, fun, and willing. Why not? Only once, though. And I used a condom. But Becky was my girl. She was”âhe said the next in a low voice to the rugâ“more than enough for me.”
Another candidate for the Surgeon General's award list. “Why didn't you tell me everything that first night?”
“I didn't want to be involved. I was afraid I'd be reported to the administration and thrown off the team. It would have ruined my chances for a good college program.”
“We talked to your parents about that,” I said.
“They tried to pressure me when I got home. I may quit the team. All they can think of is cover up, ignore it. can't do that. I fucked up. I saw Becky when I got to school tonight. She told me anything I didn't know about the drug operation and the people involved. I was blind to so much.” He paused, shook his head. “I have a question for you. Why haven't they arrested me? I dealt drugs, although I didn't tell the cops about that this afternoon. I must have been in the ledgers.”
“We're trying to find the murderer. We're using the River's Edge one as leverage to get answers.”
He smiled weakly. “Good idea.”
I explained that we had no desire to ruin his chances for a pro career with the drug information. He squared his shoulders at that and looked less pale and distracted.
I watched him stride out with the grace and assurance of a natural athlete.
After he left, I said, “I feel sorry for Susan. None of these people seemed to care about her or really know her. I'm convinced one of them did it.”
“Evidence? Proof?” Scott let the words dangle.
“No,” I admitted.
Carolyn entered. We told her what had happened. She said, “You guys have done the district and the kids a big favor in busting this drug business. Let the police handle the murder now. You've done as much as you can.”
Minutes later, we trudged down toward the gym. The hall lights flicked out as we passed the science room. A gun, followed by a hand and arm, emerged from the doorway. “Into the room,” George's voice said.
Masses of test tubes neatly lined up and microscopes encased in plastic rested on the rows of neatly arranged black lab tables.
Charts with every aspect of the human anatomy exposed lined the walls.
Charts with every aspect of the human anatomy exposed lined the walls.
Pete stood out from the deepest shadows. He looked miserably disheveled, cold, and wet. George's left arm hung almost lifelessly. The muzzle of the gun in his right hand stared at us mercilessly.
I gazed from one to the other. “Why Pete?” I asked.
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