Funny, something like that makes you think about your own life. How much fucking dumb shit you do every single day that could kill you, and yet, never does. Well, until it does. Like smoking 7 cigarettes in two hours, for example. That is wicked bad for you. I'm an educated man, and I take care of myself well, but I still smoke. I should know better. But I do it anyways. Whatever, I still look good.
Oh Jesus, Walters is walking towards me right now. What the fuck could he possibly want?
Hey champ your girls are here.
Champ? Who the fuck does this guy think he is? Champ? That is fucking outrageous. That is really fucking outrageous, and just a fucking huge abomination.
Where are they?
Interrogation room three and four. Thanks, Bundy.
Two daughters, neither of them knows the other exists. This is dramatic. If my children were separated and didn’t meet for fifteen years, I’m sure that’d fuck them up pretty bad. That alone is something that constitutes a direct visit to your local therapist. Add in a dead Father and boom.. fucked for life. I’d better go. Clock in a couple hundred more steps. Maybe do a few push ups in the bathroom before I interrogate them. No. I can’t do that, I’ll be all sweaty. I’ll just wait until I get home.
Perhaps I’ll learn a thing or two about Duke from all of this. Things that the system can’t teach us. What he was truly like. His mannerisms. His habits. The way he spoke to blue collar people. The way he spoke to white collar people.
That’s a legitimate inquiry. There’s a communication problem in this country. You can tell a lot about a man by the way he treats a waitress. You can also learn a lot about that man by the way he treats his boss. Does he get his dick sucked or does he do the sucking? It’s one or the other. There truly is no in between. My father was a blue collar man, yet he treated other blue collar people as if they were below him. He always felt that if he communicated indecently he would gain some sort of power. This was not the case. The man rarely received love and power. His brutish attitude deterred him from this. This taught me everything I needed to know about my father. He was desperate for power, and he let it affect his friendships and relationships. I hope Duke was like that, that piece of shit.
Here we are. Interrogation room 3.
First up, Aurelia Pelisson.
Ms. Pelisson?
Yes? Says this god damn, fucking beautiful woman.
Jesus Christ, Duke really created something special here. Her long flowing brown locks. Her acorn eyes. Hollywood smile. She is perfect. Sadly, a little too young for a guy like me. I’m pushing 45 over here, after all. My body has been deteriorating for almost twenty years. Twenty-five years old. That’s when cells begin to die. And ironically, I get put on the Duke case two weeks after my twenty-fifth birthday. I guess that’s just my life.
How was the commute?
How was the commute? How was the commute? Come on, Pete. You can do better than this. You’re a world class Detective for Christ sake. You’ve solved crimes. You put bad people in jail. You should be way more suave than this. Significantly more suave than this.
So, my father is dead?
Fuck. Should’ve lead with something else. Her dad just died, well, “died”. I should be more accommodating. If it were my father I wouldn’t want to talk about my commute. Regardless of the fact that he was a good-for-nothing, narcissistic asshole.
We found a death note in one of his estates. His home in Newton. The one that is registered in your name.
She’s taken back. Did I say something wrong?
Registered in my name? Says the future love of my life.
Imagine that… Banging Duke’s daughter. Honestly, that would just about make up for all the shit that he put me through.
Yes. Registered in your name. I was hoping you could give me some information about your father to help us conclude an on-going investigation.
My father? I wouldn’t know. I haven’t seen the man since I was nine years old. Neither has my mother, or anyone I know for that matter. But I can tell you what he left behind. A broken family. One that has never been repaired. A distraught wife, one that never recovered from the pain she experienced upon losing my father, and ultimately decided that she could not live without. And a daughter, one who grew up wondering how and why he could do something like this. How he could say he loved something so much, then just run away from it. How he could be the sole reason for my mother’s death, and how he could not show up to her funeral. Detective, you probably know more about my father than I did. So you tell me.
Jesus Christ. I’m speechless. Where do I begin? What can I say? Where the fuck do I start?
Where do I start, Aurelia?
You tell me.
Talk about the note, Pete. It’s a good starting point. Informative, captivating, mysterious.
The death note we found. Your father’s death note. He mentioned a few people. People I would like to ask you about.
Fire ahead, Detective.
She is much calmer than I expected. I was expecting tears, maybe even a small scuffle. You’d be surprised. That kind of stuff happens quite a bit, and usually with the ones that you’d never expect.
Was there anyone in your father’s life that you can remember has the initials R.A?
This piece of information was very overlooked by the other detectives. R.A, “Where the herring swims west”. What the fuck does that even mean. Do Herring usually swim east? Was Duke some sort of master fisherman/wildlife expert. No, probably not. Keep your detective hat on, Pete.
Yes actually. A man named Randall Adams used to stop by the house a lot. I remember the name because of the film The Thin Blue Line. I watched that with my father once.
Take this down, Pete. Randall Adams. Never heard this name before. This is a good lead. The boys outside will be impressed with this. No more “You’re so fucking stupid, Larry” or “You should work at Dairy Queen, Larry”. I’ll show them.
Great, and have you seen this man since your father left all those years ago?
Once. On the street Downtown. He was wearing ear muffs I remember, big fluffy ones. That was how I noticed him. It was spring, maybe even sixty degrees outside.
Earmuffs. Spring. Downtown Boston. Could he be homeless? I know that’s a popular area for creatures of the night.
Did you speak to him?
We locked eyes. I knew it was him, and I feel he knew it was me. Then after only a brief moment, he drew away, and began walking toward Government center.
Interesting. Very interesting. If Duke’s other daughter knows Randall Adams, it will be worth our while to track this guy down. But, people do have friends. Even guys like Duke. D.B Cooper had friends. Whitey Bulger had friends. It’s a part of being human. We cannot live by ourselves, and if we did, we would not be who we are. There is always outside influence. So maybe this guy is the real criminal. It’s a long shot. I’m just spitting out my thoughts here. The worst thing you can do as a detective is to assume. I was once told that if it looks like a duck, walks like a duck, and sounds like a duck, then it’s probably a fucking duck.
Is there anything else you need to know, Detective? Because if so, I’m going to need a cigarette.
Ah. A woman of my own heart.
There is one last thing I should mention to you. Your father re-married after your parents’ separation. He had a daughter with that woman. Her name is Lydia.
I have a sister?
Technically she’s your half-sister. But yes.
Silence. The kind of silence where you know you changed someone’s entire existence. Like going to the Doctor for a routine check-up and finding out that you have Gonorrhea. Something that just really smacks you in the face and wakes you the fuck up.
Are we done here, Detective?
What the fuck could she possibly thinking right now. Criminally insane father who may or may not be dead, and a fifteen year old half-sister who she didn’t know existed until this exact moment in her life. That might be enough for today. I d
on’t want to fuck this up. The investigation I mean. Although it would be a minor tragedy if Aurelia held any resentment and anger toward me. I’m just the messenger here.
Snap out of it, Pete. Finish this now and come back to it. Do this one right.
You’re good to go. I will be in touch, however. Your father’s case has been of major interest and importance for the better part of two decades. We may still need your help.
Fantastic. She says as she rises so elegantly.
Have a good day, Aurelia.
I’ll do my best.
Interrogations are off to a good start. You think Walters could have done that? Nope. I don’t. Some people are just born with the inability to interrogate. It’s not exactly a learned skill. Of course you can learn the tricks. Adopt the bells and whistles that come along with being a badass. But, you’ll never truly get to that point unless you’ve got that “X-factor”. The balls. The brains. The braun. That’s me in a nut shell right there. Brains, balls, braun. The 3 B’s of Detective Larry Pete.
Now let’s see what Lydia Arnold knows.
Official Police Report
Date: 07/04/2014
Case No: 7751B;
Reporting Officer: Detective Larry Pete
Prepared by: Detective Larry Pete
Description of Accident/Issue:
Three hundred men, women, and children were involved in a group suicide orchestrated by the Duke Clan. Most victims resided in Massachusetts, with the exception of fifteen individuals from the Manitoba region in Canada. The suicide took place at a Ranch in Highland, Maine. The town has a small population of 73 so no local authority action was taken until the Federal Bureau of Investigations arrived at the scene. The incident occurred on July 4, 2014 at roughly 7:30 pm. The exact time of death for most individuals is unknown as the poison used deteriorated the insides of the victims’ bodies, creating error in forensic analysis. There were no survivors upon arrival at the scene.
Actions taken:
Given the nature of the crime we were forced to hault investigations until each victim was identified and their families were notified. Each victim in the end was accurately identified. All evidence could be linked to the Supreme Ruler of the Duke Clan, Jim Duke. Forensic analysts found no trace of Duke being at the scene of the crime, however, found instructions written by Jim Duke himself that were given to each of the victims. The instructions stated that all followers were to drink the “Juice” that were handed out by the Supreme Council of the Duke Clan. Nowhere in the instructions was it mentioned that the tubs were filled with cyanide poisoning and cranberry juice. A full scale investigation has been launched with the hopes of discovering more information of the incident.
Summary:
In summary, on July 4, 2014 between the hours of 7pm and 11pm exactly three hundred Men, Women, and Children were involved in an orchestrated group suicide initiated by the Duke Clan, the largest Cult in the United States of America. It is unsure as to why only 10% of the Cult’s population were engaged in this incident, however, a geographical trend is highlighted as the vast majority of the victims resided in Massachussets. Cyanide poison was given to each of the victims in the form of a “Cranberry concoction”. It is unsure at this time if the victims knew they were being poisoned.
Chapter 6. The Unknown Truth
November 3, 2018
Detective Larry Pete
Jim Duke was clearly not an open man. Most men are not open men. I know Freud said that the Irish were impervious to psycho-evaluation, but I think deep down every man is. We’re never the same person around everyone. Yet, we’re never that different, are we? We stick to our core beliefs and we act upon those. But, the outside influence in the world can take over. There is always someone to impress. There is always someone’s dick to suck. It’s just the way the world works.
I used to think Duke was a robin hood-esque character. Take from the criminally rich and give back to the criminally poor. That he had at least some sense of morality, and that everything he did was not due to being purely evil. Now I’m not too sure. Aurelia’s reaction to Duke’s death taught me more about what kind of a man he really was than any case evidence I have analyzed over the last two decades. A real man does not leave his family willingly. A real man does whatever he can to keep the love alive and a real man holds on for dear life when his life and world are being torn apart. No matter what a man must be a man. We have always perceived Duke as a real man. A clandestine, suave figure that would adopt the love and fear of a King, and he would operate so elegantly. He would even keep me awake at night during my divorce. Fuck, part of me even wanted to be the man. Not that I would ever fucking tell anyone that. I used to think that if I were even just a little more like Duke, then my wife wouldn’t have left me, and everything I loved so much wouldn’t be stripped away.
But it’s time to meet daughter number two. Lydia Arnold.
Lydia Arnold? I’m Detective Pete.
She looks different up close and personal. I suppose when you’re staking out you can only get such a good look. She appears more aged. More-so than a typical fifteen year old girl.
What happened to my Dad? Nobody is telling me anything.
Fuck. This one is going to be tough. Duke was around for Lydia’s entire life. He raised her. In theory, she is the polar opposite of Aurelia. Stable, well-maintained, seemingly educated. Happy home life, a loving upbringing. I’m going to have to go about this differently.
We found a death note in one of your father’s estates. He was involved in a criminal investigation since before you were born. I was hoping you could give me any information you might have about your Father so we can conclude it.
She starts to cry. A river of tears. Hysterically panting, struggling to catch her breath. As if a python were slowly wrapping itself around her neck. The air traps itself in her esophagus.
Is my father dead!
We have reason to believe he is. But we have not yet found his body.
Her eyes redden. Her lips dry. Face puffs. Drool falls down her chin. A cyclone of confusion. A flood of emotion breaking through her heart. Emotion is something we cannot control nor reason with it. It consumes us and makes us who we are.
Do you still have your father, Detective?
No, I don’t.
So you know how I’m feeling. Pardon my French but how the fuck can I answer any questions right now?
Lydia’s connection to her Father is significantly stronger than Aurelia’s. What happened to Duke after he left Aurelia and her mother? He must have left for some good reason. People don’t drastically change like that. Going from an unhappy, dysfunctional marriage directly into a loving, caring, wholesome home. It just doesn’t happen. People have limitations for change and this exceeds Duke’s limitations. I know there is something I’m missing here. A gap that has never been filled. A period in his life where everything changed.
For Lydia, this is irrelevant. She’s experiencing the loss of someone she loved near and dear. Somebody whom she clearly trusted with every bone in her body. I need to earn her trust. And to do that I’m going to need to relate to her.
I lost my Father when I was twenty-four years old. He was murdered. It took me a long time to be normal again. I do know how you’re feeling, Lydia. The best thing you can do at this moment in time is co-operate with us so we can all find the truth.
Your dad was murdered?
Yes, a long time ago.
It’s a tough thought to have entering your mind. My relationship with my father was complex. I never respected him because he never respected anyone. He was narcissistic and flaunted the little money that he had. He was a class jumper, a social ladder climber. Somebody who you could definitely fuck with, yet someone who always fucked with everyone. He had no loyalty and was murdered for that exact reason. Yet, I still cried at his funeral. I still mourned for him. And it did in fact change my entire life. No matter how much somebody has it coming to them, murder is always a surprise. You can expect d
eath, but you will always be taken back when somebody you know is taken from this world at the hands of another. But that is a thought for another time.
Some time in the future I will tell you how it happened. For now we need to talk about your Father.
She’s significantly more relaxed. I think that might have worked. The tension in her shoulders fades and she is able to sink back into her chair.
I loved my Dad. He was the greatest person I have ever met. I don’t really know why I’m here.
Fucking god damnit. How the fuck can Lydia not know anything about her Father? This man is responsible for hundreds of deaths. Hundreds. If it were, say, thirty people, like Bundy, then I could imagine a certain significant amount of secrecy. But hundreds is a completely different story.
So, you know nothing about The Duke Clan? Or the events that occurred on July 4, 2014?
No. I don’t know anything about either of those. My father was a freelance accountant. He worked nine to five Monday through Friday. He was home at six every night and we would watch TV. He rarely left the house after that. Every July 4 we have a cookout in our backyard. We do that so we can watch the fireworks from our neighboring town.
Stayaway Hideaway Page 2
