by J K Franko
But, if we consider, as physicists now claim, that everything is energy—everything we see, everything we think, everything we do—then it is just possible that this same law of conservation of energy applies to questions of morality. A conservation of moral energy, a maintenance of equilibrium… a balance exists and must be preserved. If an action is taken that disrupts that balance, then an action similar in kind and degree is required to restore equilibrium.
This seems instinctive to man.
In fact, the earliest existing expression of human law operated from this premise of moral conservation of energy. Hammurabi’s Code, a Babylonian code of laws written in approximately 1750 B.C., states:
196. Anyone destroying the eye of another shall suffer the loss of an eye as punishment therefor.
197. If anyone fractures the bones of another, the guilty one, upon conviction, shall have his bones fractured in punishment therefor.
200. If anyone knocks out the teeth of one, his equal [in rank], his teeth are to be knocked out, upon conviction of the offence.
Eye for eye... tooth for tooth.
It is called lex talionis—the law of talion—and it requires punishment of an injury by inflicting a similar injury on the offender, an injury similar in kind and degree.
Children instinctively gravitate to this concept of justice. We see this in play. One child is injured. He begins to cry. The offending party, seeking to avoid punishment by the adults, reverts to this primitive, instinctive sense of justice: “Hit me back. Then we’re even.” And note that, in this situation, it is not “the law” that imposes punishment. In fact, “the law”—the adults—is precisely what the offender wishes to avoid. The children seek to resolve the issue amongst themselves, and mete out punishment to restore balance and keep the game going.
Childhood games teach that any game is only as good as the rules that circumscribe game play. If the rules are followed, everyone has fun. However, when someone cheats, the game breaks down, the fun ends, and chaos reigns. Isn’t this why, to children, being a “cheater” is such a bad thing? The cheater ruins the game for everyone.
If man is indeed Hobbesian, as Roy thinks, then he imposes laws on himself and his fellows because otherwise anarchy would reign. In a Hobbesian world, man creates civilization by creating laws. Laws establish order, and enforcement of laws aims to maintain order. In this type of world, the legal system enforces the laws to preserve itself—to protect its own existence.
Perhaps there is a balance that preexists man’s law. And maybe all of our social rules—our laws—have been designed by us, consciously or not, with another aim in mind. Not to create balance, but to preserve it: to keep a preexisting moral universe from spinning violently out of control. Conservation of moral energy.
If that is the case, then the rules we “make” for society simply define a preexisting field of play. We do not so much make the rules as we simply recognize that they exist. We discover them.
And just as the rules preexist us, the balance that they protect also preexists. We can do as we like… within the boundaries. So long as we stay within the lines, the balance persists, and we are safe.
We are also free to break the rules, but only at a cost. A price must be paid for coloring outside of the lines. For every bad act that is committed, another similar action must be taken to rectify it—every bad act requires a punishment. There is a cost, and that cost must be exacted—whether by a legal system that steps in and imposes punishment, or simply by the players who take action to restore balance.
Murder, then, is doable. It can be committed without detection. It can be committed without the offender being subjected to the laws that punish such acts.
Yet, murder disturbs the equilibrium. It fucks with the balance. And, in life, when you fuck with the balance, bad things happen. And a price must be paid.
I’m not talking about a heaven and hell, fire and brimstone kind of price. Please. We finished with fairy tales and the Brothers Grimm back in Chapter Fourteen. No, I am talking about a more fundamental what goes around comes around kind of price.
Balance is disturbed. Balance must be restored.
Take our current situation. In our little game, there are three billiard balls on the table: Roy, Susie, and Deb. All three have been bad. All three have broken the rules. All three have been directly involved in murder. But, let’s be honest. They’ve been bad to very different degrees.
If we proceed in reverse order of disappearance, we begin with Joe Harlan Jr., of whom we can say: He needed killin’. What he did to Kristy—his evil—was intentional, not accidental. Removing Joe from the playing field was fun. And the dick on the door thing—come on. Admit it. You kind of liked that part, too. Even a New Testament God would have a hard time faulting us for Joe’s death and the penile crucifixion.
Liam Bareto is a little trickier. His act was not intentional. It was carelessness that caused the death of an innocent, Camilla. That same carelessness left Liam in a physical state where it was questionable whether he would have recovered his faculties or remained a vegetable. I have it on good authority that, in fact, he had sustained severe brain damage, and would have remained a vegetable for the balance of his life, had he even awakened from his coma. So, while he didn’t need killing the way Joe did, the taking of what remained of his life—a vegetable state—balanced against the “evil” (a highly charged, religiously tainted word that serves as a substitute for the word “imbalance”) he caused Camilla… well, an Old Testament God, at least, would probably pat us on the back for that one.
Arguably, both Joe Harlan Jr. and Liam Bareto were killed to restore the balance—because each of their acts had created imbalance.
No. The real imbalance in our little universe was caused by the death of poor young Joan. And, incredibly, if ever there was a stumbler of a murder, that was it. No planning. No premeditation. No well-conceived cover-up. No real motive. Stupid, really. Very true to life.
What happened to the piece of wood Deb hit her with? Was it found? Was there any blood on it? Was there any blood on the ground where her shoe was found? Did she really even die from that blow?
Or did she die from the fall?
Think about it. Two kids in the dark. Scared, trying to take a pulse. She was probably still alive when they threw her off the cliff. It was most likely the fall that killed her.
What had little Joan done wrong? Nothing, really. She didn’t deserve to die. And, if we consider the “consequences” had she made it back to the main cabin and ratted Susie and Deb out, it wasn’t even really worth killing her. Nobody is happy that Joan died. That just wasn’t fun.
Joan’s death was the murder of a child, an innocent, for no good reason.
And that, my friends, is a punishable offense. New Testament, Old Testament, Torah, Koran, Hammurabi. That kind of a killing fucks with the balance. It messes with the equilibrium.
CHAPTER FIFTY ONE
Sixteen Months After Harlan’s Disappearance
Deb felt uneasy.
The call had come in earlier that day from UNKNOWN. She’d thought it was Susie. Big, big surprise... it was Roy. He was in Austin. And he needed to see her “about Susie.”
“Urgently.”
Deb was concerned—what could be going on with Susie that Susie herself wouldn’t call her about? Maybe she was sick? Cancer? But Susie would have contacted her for something like that, right? So, it had to be something to do with Harlan.
It had been over a year since the senator’s son had disappeared. After a few months of activity, everything quieted down. Deb couldn’t imagine that anything new could have cropped up in connection with that.
Could it have something to do with Bareto? That was even further in the past. Even more remote.
She had considered calling Susie. She’d almost dialed her twice. But something told her to wait, to hear Roy out.
Deb was intrigued. And, the more she thought about it, the more she liked the idea. She’d hatched a plan—brilliant in her estimation. This meeting was going to pay off big for her if it worked out. She’d discussed her plan with Tom. As usual, he’d hemmed and hawed, and waffled, and finally she’d just had to tell him what the fuck to do.
The location made sense. It wasn’t highly trafficked. The odds of seeing anyone they knew were very low.
She parked as far away from the main building as she could without being obvious—about four spaces from the farthest parked car. A lone car in the farthest corner of the lot might attract attention, or get some notice, at least.
It was almost 7:00 p.m.
A car pulled into the lot and parked one space away, to Deb’s left. It was Roy. Deb did a quick check. There was no other activity in the parking lot. She pressed a button on the console of her Jaguar and the locks snicked open.
Roy looked around discreetly. There was nobody else in the parking lot. He was in jeans and a short-sleeved shirt, with a light jacket to hide the Glock. He had brought it with him from Miami—in checked baggage (which is perfectly legal).
He walked around the front of Deb’s car and slid into the seat next to her, closing the door.
“Long time, Roy,” she said with a wry smile.
“Listen, Deb. I want to be quick,” he said, snatching a glimpse at the parking lot around them.
“I’m listening,” she said. Turning her body so that she could face him better.
Roy paused, holding her gaze for a few seconds before he began.
“Susie told me about you two. Everything. And I mean everything. As you’d expect, I was pissed at first. But, I get it. I mean, of course, I wish you’d both been more honest. You certainly had me fooled, back in Colorado. And, of course, I really appreciate the whole Bareto thing. Susie was in a bad place. I think she would have done something stupid if it hadn’t been for you,” Roy said, earnestly as he gazed out of the windshield. “So, thank you for that.”
This wasn’t what Deb had been expecting, and it irritated her. She pulled a face. “Roy, you said this was about Susie. That’s the only reason I’m here. And you know better than I do, meeting like this isn’t smart, so get to the fucking point, will you? What about Susie?”
“You’re right. I’m rambling,” Roy said, scratching the stubble on his chin and then looking Deb in the eye. “I want you to stay away from Susie. No more calls. No more contact. Nothing.”
Deb scoffed and turned to the steering wheel. “Sure, Roy. I agree. Now, get the fuck out of my car.”
That wasn’t quite the response Roy was expecting. He was trying to get Deb riled. He had the sense that if he pissed her off enough, he might be able to get information from her. Information that he was convinced Susie was holding back.
If not, there was always the gun.
“I’m serious, Deb. Whatever you two had in the past, that’s over. There are way too many connections between us now. It’s too risky. I did the Harlan thing for Susie. Because she needed it. Now, I have to wonder if she really needed it for Camilla or for you. Regardless, I did it for her because I love her. But she’s mine. We’re done with you. Our debt is paid. So, now, please, just stay away.”
Deb stared ahead, nostrils flaring. Then she shifted in her seat to face him once more. “Where the fuck do you get off telling me what to do? You don’t know what love is, Roy. You think doing this little thing for her proves your undying love? It doesn’t. You did it because you’re weak, and always have been. You’re not good enough for her. You never were good enough for her.”
Roy’s eyes flashed at her. “If I’m no good, Deb, then you’re rotten. Rotten to the core. You convinced her to get me to kill Harlan, but you knew that if it went south, I’d be the one on the hook. And even that wasn’t good enough for you. No. You had to add that bullshit—nailing the guy’s fucking dick to the door. Why? He’s dead. You almost screwed the pooch on that. And it was my ass on the line. But it’s over, and I win. And you’re going to be out of the picture from now on. Understand?”
“You know nothing, Roy Cruise. You failed Susie. You left her hanging. When she really needed you, you were missing in action. You have no sense of family. No sense of loyalty. Bareto killed your daughter, and what did you do? Go to work! What the fuck kind of a man does that? What kind of man cares so little for his own child? His own blood? Even Harlan had more balls than you!”
Deb paused, waiting for reaction. But Roy knew he had her fired up. He stayed silent, looking at her and shaking his head slowly from side to side.
Then he scoffed, “You’re pathetic.”
“Me? I’m pathetic? You’re the walking definition of that. If Susie wasn’t pulling your strings, you’d be nothing but a limp-dicked puppet.”
“You failed your family, Deb. You failed to protect your little girl.”
“Fuck you, Roy. You motherfucking asshole!” She poked a manicured finger into his chest. “Fuck you and everything about you!”
“You’re so pathetic, Deb. You had to hang the dick on the door to appease your conscience. ‘Cause you didn’t have the balls to avenge your daughter. You know why? Because you only care about yourself.”
“You don’t know shit about me!”
“Sure, I do. The only thing that matters in your life is Deb. And it’s a good thing, because no one else gives a shit about you.”
“Oh, fuck you! You don’t know anything about me. And you have no clue who you’re married to, Roy. You know nothing! And sure, I care about Suze because we’re meant to be together. It’s me she loves, not you, and it’s always been me. You’re just an afterthought. A meal ticket.”
“Am I? Seems to me she’s made her choice.”
“Choice? You think we had a choice? You think she chose you? If it hadn’t been for that little bitch at camp, we’d probably be together right now!” Deb was leaning into him now. He could feel the heat of her breath on his face as she shouted.
“What? What little bitch?” he asked, surprised. “What are you talking about?”
“Well shit, Roy. She didn’t tell you?” she spat. “You stupid motherfucker! And you think she loves you?” She raised her hands, waving them in unison with her mocking in a sing-song voice, ‘Oooh, Susie loves me. She told me everything, everything...’ Obviously not.
“But I’ll tell you…” she said, eyes narrowing, maliciously. “It was love at first sight. Me and Susie. We knew it the moment we met. We could barely keep our hands off each other. And it was fucking amazing! I bet you’ve never had that kind of sex with her. You ever heard her whimper when she comes? Have you? I bet not.
“We were meant to be together right from the beginning, but then that little bitch came along threatening to ruin everything. She was going to turn us in. I mean, I didn’t give a shit. She was just another self-righteous little cunt. I just wanted to shut her up. Did I want to kill her? No. But, hey, shit happens.
“And Susie stuck by me. She helped me cover it up. We got rid of her body together. It’s always been me, Roy. Don’t you get it? We were meant to be together. You’re just window dressing.
“When we reconnected on the cruise ship. That was amazing. I swore I’d never lose touch with her. I never will. And when all this blows over, we’ll be together again. And, you’ll be nothing but a bad memory. Now, please get the fuck out of my car!”
Roy was silent.
“Her... her name was Joan,” he stammered, eyes welling with tears.
“What? Yeah. So?”
“The little cunt, Deb. She had a name. Her name was Joan. Joan Diaz.”
CHAPTER FIFTY TWO
The shock of Joan’s death—finding out what really happened to her—hit Roy, hard. Whe
n he first told me about it, his pain was obvious.
Ironically, he didn’t want to discuss it. I think he just wanted to say it out loud. He wanted someone else to know, and to know that he knew. And I say someone else, because he didn’t tell Susie—not right away. That was his cross to bear.
Roy kept his knowledge of Joan’s death—and Susie’s involvement in it—from her, for some time.
What he didn’t know was that at around the same time, Susie learned a secret too. About him. One that she planned to confront him with. She just needed to find the right moment.
Shortly after his confrontation with Deb in Austin, Roy sprung a surprise on Susie; a vacation in Spain. She was ebullient.
Susie had been out shopping for the trip when, as she was driving home, her phone rang. It was Roy.
She pressed a button on her steering wheel and spoke to the cabin, “Hey, babe.”
“Hey, Suze. You coming home soon?”
“Yep. I’m in the car. Should be there in about fifteen.”
“Okay. I’m starting up the grill. David and Rosa are already here. See you soon!”
“Love you. Bye.”
Susie was happy. Life was falling back into place. Things were working as they should. And her marriage to Roy had never felt so strong. There was no doubt that everything that happened had brought them much closer than they ever had been before.
The last year had been incredible. Their lives had completely changed. They were going out again, attending social functions. Things that neither of them would ever have entertained after Camilla. And they travelled, extensively.
It bonded us at a whole new level—one that’s really hard to understand unless you’ve been there.
Susie would not recommend murder therapy without reserve; it wasn’t for everyone. Still, given the totality of their circumstances, she felt that it had worked for them.
Back home, she hurried in the front door laden with bags from her shopping and called out “Hellooo!”
“In the kitchen, Suze!” Roy responded.
