by John Locke
Bobby laughs. “You’re upset with me.”
“Fuck you.”
“You were on camera last night, during the beating. I was preoccupied, of course, but my guys pulled clips for me to watch this morning. I couldn’t help but notice you appeared to be distressed whenever Jill cried out in pain.”
“Any normal human being would have the same reaction.”
“Maybe. But I think there’s another reason.”
Jack looks at Bobby through venomous eyes.
Bobby says, “If you’ll remember, there were long periods of time where you heard nothing. That was me, turning off the microphone. I didn’t want you to hear the interrogation, or Jill’s confession. I wanted to give you a chance to confess every last detail, and see if your stories matched. Before I ask you what happened, I’ll say two things. First, Jill told me everything. Second, to her credit, it took a long time to get it out of her.”
Jack lowers his head, squeezes his eyes shut.
“You know what I think?” Bobby says.
“I don’t give a shit.”
He nibbles a piece of bacon and says, “Crazy as it sounds, I think she actually believed you were going to save her, somehow.”
Jack looks up at him.
“That hope, that belief in you, kept her going. No matter what I did to her, she denied everything. Denied you two had a connection. Denied you were running off together. She even denied you had sex! And frankly, I gave up. Beating and fucking her like that? For all those hours? I gotta tell you, that took a lot out of me.”
He sighs, waves a hand, dismissively. “Maybe it’s because I’m old. Maybe it’s because it was so late when we started. But the truth is I couldn’t get it out of her.”
Jack’s face lights up. “She’s still alive?”
“What I’m saying, I couldn’t get her to confess by beating her. You got her to confess, though. Without saying a word.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
“Remember when Jill began screaming? I’m talking about the very first screams. Three in a row, if I remember correctly. I don’t want to say what I did to make her do that. But there’s a digital counter on the tape that shows you in the guest room, listening to her. I showed that clip to Jill. Her screams, the tape count. A few minutes later, more screams. Her, getting beat up, begging for her life, you, sitting on the bed, eating a sandwich, drinking a beer…”
He pauses, then says, “You broke her heart, Jack.”
Jack stares at him blankly. What he’s saying, the whole macho act he put on for Bobby’s sake backfired. And wasn’t it Jill who told him to be himself, and stop acting so tough all the time? Didn’t she, in fact, tell him not to underestimate Bobby?
Bobby says, “Seeing you calmly eat a sandwich while she begged for her life took all the fight out of her. She confessed everything, voluntarily. Said she’d been a fool to believe in you. And that’s when I saw it.”
He spears a piece of potato, eats it, and says, “I looked in her eyes and everything was different. Like someone turned out the lights. And that’s when I realized she was within an inch of dying. So I bravely climbed on top of her and did what I said I’d do. I fucked that last inch of life out of her.”
He laughs, finishes his breakfast, then says, “All night long I punished that woman, trying to make her apologize for running away. But she never did. I couldn’t understand it. I mean, if someone’s beating the shit out of you, and you knew they wanted an apology, wouldn’t you say you’re sorry?”
He shakes his head and goes quiet. Eventually, he says, “It took a long time, but it finally dawned on me. You know what I’m going to say, don’t you?”
Jack says nothing.
Bobby says, “She was taking that beating for you. So naturally, I tried to get her to confess she’d had sex with you. Tried to make her admit you were planning to run away together. She wouldn’t, so I beat her harder. Beat her till my hands hurt. Beat the nipples off her tits. At that point I didn’t even care about her running away, all I wanted was her confession. And no matter what I did, she denied it. It’s like she knew she had that one power over me, and she held on to it like a Senator clutches a bribe. And you know what? The bitch won. She beat me. Like Cool Hand Luke, she won the fight by never quitting…until she saw the video of you in the guest room. When she saw that, I didn’t even have to ask. She spilled her guts. Told me everything.”
He laughs again. “All it took was a beer and a sandwich.”
Jack sits there quietly, tears filling his eyes.
“If I were a member of a jury,” Bobby says, “I’d take those tears as a sign of your guilt.”
“Keep that in mind, you pompous bastard. When you go to court.”
Bobby chuckles. “I’ve been in court more times than you can count. Judges and prosecutors have swimming pools, tennis courts, and vacation homes to prove it.”
His face grows serious.
“Are you a betting man, Jack?”
“You expect me to have a civil conversation with you? After beating your wife to death and laughing about it while eating breakfast? You’re psychotic.”
“The more you cooperate, the easier it’ll go for you.”
“You’ve already admitted you couldn’t break Jill. You won’t break me, either.”
Bobby smiles. “Jill knew I loved her. She knew I’d show restraint. You won’t get that type of coddling from me.”
“Beating her to death is your idea of coddling?”
“Did you fuck my wife, Jack?”
“No.”
“She said otherwise.”
“You might have beaten a false confession out of her, but that doesn’t change the facts.”
“Were you planning to run away with her?”
“Fuck you, DiPiese. I’ve said all I’m going to say.”
“You remember how we met, Jack? It was what, four years ago? I hired you to find a guy? I’d been searching for months with no luck. Took you what, two days?”
“It took me two hours. I billed you for two days.”
Bobby chuckles. “Serves me right. That was what, four years ago?”
“Something like that.”
“You happen to remember the man’s name?”
“Todd Hardy.”
“Who does that?” Bobby says. “Goes through high school, marries a college girl, has two kids, runs off and marries a guy in California, and takes the guy’s last name?”
“Todd Hardy.”
Bobby nods. “A moment ago I asked if you were a betting man. I had a reason for that. During the past two months you either found Jill two days ago, as you claim, or much sooner, which I suspect. But either way, you learned a lot by investigating her, and following her trail. My question is this: how many different men would you guess my loving wife slept with during her life?”
“I couldn’t care less.”
“You’ll want to re-think that, because I happen to know the exact number. And if you guess right, I’ll spare your life. I’m not going to pay you the balance I owe, because you didn’t actually return her, as promised. But you have my word. Get the exact number, and I’ll spare your life. But if you guess wrong, it’ll go badly for you.”
“Five,” Jack says.
Bobby looks surprised. “What made you say five? Did you have this conversation with Jill already?”
He did, in fact. But what he says is, “I’m right, aren’t I?”
“We’ll get to that in a minute. I’m just making sure that’s your final answer. Bear in mind, she’s thirty. Was thirty, if I’m being precise. And you said she was working in a strip joint.”
“So?”
“Five seems a bit low, don’t you think?”
“I’ll stick with that number.”
“Will you tell me the truth, Jack? Will you admit you fucked my wife? Will you give me that much?”
“I wouldn’t give you the sweat off my dick.”
A fourth goon walks in. “What
do you want?” Bobby says.
“He’s here. Your visitor.”
“From the department?”
“Yeah. Carter.”
“He brought his equipment?”
“Yeah.”
Bobby says, “Take him to the den and wait with him.”
When the goon leaves, Bobby turns his attention back to Jack. “Remember the jar I showed you last night?”
When Jack fails to respond, Bobby tells one of the goons to fetch it and place it on the table. When he does, Bobby says, “Rayburn, bring the tray I prepared. But be careful.”
Rayburn leaves, comes back carrying a tray with four jars, all identical to the empty one on the table.
Except they aren’t empty.
Each jar contains a pair of testicles.
Bobby picks up one of the jars and holds it so Jack can get a good look.
“Todd Hardy,” Bobby says. “The guy you helped me find four years ago. Before he got married, had kids, ran off with his boyfriend from California…this was Jill’s first boyfriend. They were high school sweethearts. She made it all through high school without getting laid, then this bastard slipped it to her the night they graduated.”
He frowns. “These nuts were in my wife’s mouth when she was a teenager.”
He places the jar back on the tray and picks up the second one.
“Colton Boyd, college student. Lacrosse player. Big man on campus. Wealthy family. This piece of shit was the love of her life. He used her, cheated on her, dumped her. You know the type? Think they’re better than everyone else? I crushed his feet and fed him to my hogs.”
He studies Colton’s nuts a while, then says, “I’ve had these a long time.”
He puts the jar down, picks up the next one. “Professor Owen Wolfe.” Of all the pricks who fucked my wife, this was the worst. A fuckin’ professor. He came at her the week Colton dumped her, which happened to be the same week her father died. Talk about a Satan double-header! I figured this guy must have brass balls for taking advantage of a young, broken-hearted coed like that, but as you can see, they’re nothing special.”
He puts the jar beside the others and says, “I’ve got the professor’s dick in another jar. It’s my only dick.” He looks at Jack, then adds, “So far.”
“The nuts of her fourth lover are attached to my lower abdomen,” he says. “And although I was fourth in line, I’m proud to say I’ll go to my grave being Jill’s last lover.”
“With any luck you’ll go there soon,” Jack says.
Bobby holds up the last jar. “Lover number five,” he says. “I never told you this, but Jill ran away once before. Guy’s name was Wisby. Marcus Wisby. Rayburn, tell Jack who Marcus was.”
Rayburn says, “Your driver.”
Bobby says, “You believe that shit? My fuckin’ driver! She gave it up to this bastard for a fuckin’ ride!”
Jack says, “Did they run off together?”
“No. Wisby drove her to Baton Rouge, fucked her, drove back alone. I didn’t find out what he’d done till I beat it out of her.”
Jack says, “How long was she gone?”
“Three days. And you wouldn’t believe the beating I gave her for that shit.”
“I expect she’d say it was worth it.”
Bobby’s expression stays the same, but his eyes go reptilian. “Rayburn?”
“Yes, sir?”
“Put this nut tray back where you found it, then get Clark, and tell him to bring his shit in here.”
When Rayburn leaves, Bobby tells his other goons to clear the table, except for the empty jar. By the time they finish, Rayburn returns with a short, curly-haired guy with thick glasses who looks like he plays football, basketball, and soccer, every day of his life—on X-box.
Bobby says, “Jack, this is Clark. Can you look at his equipment and guess his job with the parish police department?”
“He gives lie detector tests.”
“That’s right. Take a seat, Clark, and hook him up.”
While Clark gets the machine ready, Bobby goes on a texting jag. He’s working so furiously, no one wants to interrupt him. Finally he looks up and says, “You’re ready?”
Clark nods. He’s been ready for ten minutes.
“Can you leave us a minute?”
Clark stands, Rayburn escorts him out the room.
Bobby says, “Okay, Jack, last chance. I asked you how many lovers Jill’s had in her life and you said five, which was the correct answer before you came into the picture. You say you didn’t have sex with her, and if the lie detector agrees, you get to keep your nuts. Does that sound fair?”
Jack says, “Maybe I’ll tell Clark about the jars and what you did to Jill.”
“Tell him whatever you think is worth dying for, because anything you say beyond answering his questions will cost you your life. It’s up to you, Jack. But if you want my opinion, I think you’d be making a poor trade, since Clark’s heavily on my payroll.”
Jack has to give Bobby credit where credit’s due. It’s ingenious, having the police lie detector guy in his pocket. He can find out everything the police know but can’t use in court. That’s tremendous leverage for a guy like Bobby.
Bobby says, “I’ll ask you one last time. Tell me the truth about what happened, how it happened, and why. Tell me that, and I’ll spare your life.”
“You’re saying you’ll let me go if I tell you what happened?”
“No. I said I’d spare your life.”
“What does that mean, exactly?”
“It means I’ll chain you to my basement wall with the others, but I won’t feed you to the hogs.”
“The truth is I drove her to the place we met the four hunters. After killing them, I took one of the trucks and drove Jill to Hammond. I didn’t know it at the time but one of the bullets from the explosion damaged the truck. By the time we got to Hammond, the truck was about to die on me. I stole a car and kidnapped the family that owned it, put them in the trunk, and started heading here. After a few miles on the highway, they kicked out the tail lights, and I was afraid we’d be stopped. I didn’t want to get caught in the middle of a kidnapping, so I pulled off and got caught up in the Virgin Boat Festival. We abandoned the car and met a crazy lady who took us on horseback to a bait shop. The owner air-boated us to an airfield, and according to you, Mike flew Jill to Jackson instead of La Pierre.”
Bobby pauses to absorb the data. Then says, “When did you fuck her?”
“I didn’t.”
Bobby picks up the empty jar, turns it in his hands a minute.
“Good story,” he says. “Let’s see if the lie detector backs you up.”
When the test is over, Carter shows Bobby the peaks he’s circled that represent lies.
“Just so we’re clear, when Jack said he never kissed my wife…”
“That was a lie.”
“And when he said he never touched my wife’s breasts?”
“That was a lie.”
“And when he said he never had sex with her?”
“That was a lie.”
“And when you asked it a different way, if he’d ever had intercourse with her, he said no, and…”
“That was also a lie.”
“And when you asked if they had oral sex, he said no…”
“And that answer was truthful.”
“And when he said he didn’t know she was flying to Jackson?”
“That was a lie.”
“And when he said they weren’t planning to run away together?”
“That was also a lie.”
“Could any of these be—what do you call them? False positives?”
“There’s always a possibility of false positives. But this subject showed truthful answers to every control question you knew to be true.”
“What’s your degree of confidence in this particular test result?”
“Ninety to ninety-five percent.”
Carter looks at the empty jar and says, “
Is that for his nuts?”
Bobby says, “Thanks for your time, Carter.”
After Carter leaves, Bobby says, “Anything you’d like to say to me, Jack?”
“Yeah. The guy’s a hack. Polygraphs are known to be accurate exactly sixty-one percent of the time.”
“Don’t be a sore loser, Jack.”
“I never touched your wife.”
Bobby imitates Carter’s voice, saying, “…And that was a lie.”
Jack frowns.
Bobby says, “I won’t ask you to give me the details at this time. When it comes down to the nut-cutting, you’ll tell me everything. Why the fuck are you smiling?”
It’s true.
Jack’s grinning like an idiot.
Bobby says, “This makes you happy? What, you always wanted to lose your nuts?”
“Marcus Wisby,” Jack says. “Jill’s fifth lover.”
Bobby frowns. “What about him?”
Jack laughs. “It just hit me: Jill’s alive. Not only is she alive, she was never here. Not last night, anyway.”
“And you came to this conclusion how?”
“Marcus Wisby, your driver, and the cab driver from Jackson, Mississippi, Vick Wamby. I knew that was a bullshit story, when you said Wamby was on your payroll.”
“Tell me.”
“I talked to the fucking cab driver.”
“So?”
“He was Iranian. I can’t remember his name, but it sure as hell wasn’t Vick Wamby!”
“Maybe I embellished that part.”
“You embellished the whole fucking story, Bobby. She was never here last night. The whole thing was staged.”
“Want to see her body?”
“Yeah. I’d love to see it. Let’s go. Right now. Show me.”
The two men stare each other down. Bobby says, “What makes you think it was staged?”
“When Jill ran off the first time you beat the shit out of her.”
“So?”
“You taped that beating and replayed it for me last night, to get my reaction. Then you tried to use the whole killing Jill story to get me to confess.”
“What about the lie detector guy?” Bobby says.
“Is he for real?”
“He is.”
“Then he’s a hack.”
