Trusting Evil

by Mary Leo

  “But I might be able to help make some changes in there. Put Speck back in his cage and make him stay there. He’ll lose his freedom. It’s something I can do for his victims.”

  I don’t understand his reaction. His anger. Thought he would want to help with the cause. Be a crusader.

  “You can’t do this, Carly. It’s not safe. You, alone in a room with two killers? What kind of crap is that?”

  “I won’t be alone, you’ll be with me,” slips from my mouth. Perhaps just the words I need to bring him over to my side. Appeal to his Lancelot. Mike the enabler.

  He smiles, takes a drink of his milk and sits back. “Thanks for asking me first.”

  “Don’t need to.”

  “Since when?”

  “Since we became business partners. You never get my permission when you close a deal, why should it be any different for me?”

  He pounds the table with his fist, mad now that he can’t control me. “This is not the same thing. Our whole lives could go up in smoke if we get caught. I could be spending the next ten years inside Stateville instead of the next ten days. And you could be…well, who knows where you’d end up. Some state lockup for the insane. No. We’re not going to do this. I won’t let you do this.”

  I lean forward, resting my arms on the table. “Yes, we are, or at least I am. I’ve made up my mind. It’s the only way.”

  “The only way for what? To end your life, our life together? I kept your picture up on my mirror for almost ten years after I met you hoping that one day you’d walk back into my world. I’d lie awake at night dreaming about you. What you would look like. How we would meet. All those years. For what? So you could end up in some goddamn prison trying to get a lunatic to talk to a camera. How nuts are you?”

  Dottie puts down our drinks. We wait in silence. She doesn’t speak. Maybe she can feel the tension, or she’s just too busy. Whatever the reason, I’m grateful when she leaves.

  Mike watches her walk away, all the while I can hear the little wheels in his head turning, trying to come up with the right argument. “Look, this is crazy. What if something goes wrong? What if this Captain Bob decides to use you for something else … some kind of sick setup. Maybe Speck needs another victim, like a vampire or something.”

  “Wouldn’t matter. I’m already Speck’s victim. The whole neighborhood is. Along with a few thousand other people, starting with the girls’ families and friends; the family that lived across the street from the townhouse who didn’t hear or see anything that night, or the woman around the corner. The guy down the block. What about the pimply-faced teenager down the street who served the girls a Tastee-Freeze, or Tammy, a classmate next door who came over to borrow some bread but got no answer? Fortunately for her, Speck didn’t hear her knocking.”

  “Okay, I suppose they are, but Carly—”

  I interrupt, on a roll now thinking about Speck’s victims, not wanting to stop, wanting to say more. He lets me. “Then there’s the cops who went into that townhouse the next morning looking for bodies. And the poor, dumb kid who tried to deliver a pizza to the wrong address while Speck busied himself upstairs tying everybody up. And what about the housemother who didn’t walk over to check on the students that night, along with the forever guilty boyfriends who waited outside the townhouse to make sure their dates got inside the townhouse safely? That one always got me. What kind of sick irony was that? They have to live with their deadly mistake their whole lives.”

  I play with my glass, holding it up to the light, watching the amber liquid swirl around. Mike doesn’t speak. It’s as if he knows I have more to say. “We’re all Speck’s victims in our own way, you know. Everybody who knew the nurses personally or knew of them. Everybody who knew Speck or spoke to him or served him a meal or a drink or offered him a job that didn’t come through. His brother-in-law who dropped him off in front of Union Hall, less than a block away from the townhouse. His sister who threw him out of her house. His mother, his ex-wife and his innocent daughter who has a notorious monster for a father. The staff at Chicago Community Hospital who decided to board some of the student nurses in townhouses a mile away. And Sherry Finnigan, who was kicked out of that townhouse in March for her bad behavior. Another girl took her place. Don’t you think she thinks about that irony every day? Every night? I guess you don’t get it, do you? Once a Richard Speck arrives in our world there’s no getting him out. Not until he’s dead or we are. We’re all his victims. Even you.”

  “Fine,” he says, slamming his glass down on the table, milk splashing out. “Just fine. Give me a speech to make me feel like a fool. Like I’m some sort of dim-witted jerk. So everyone’s a victim, but life goes on. Wasn’t there a nurse who got away? Isn’t she a practicing nurse somewhere going on with her life? Raising a couple kids? Going to PTA meetings? Living? Breathing? You don’t see her in there trying to interview the son of a bitch, trying to get some sort of statement. Let it go, Carly. Nothing good can come of this. What do you expect? An apology?”

  “Why not? I don’t know. Some answers, maybe.”

  “Is there something you’re not telling me about those three days Speck was in your neighborhood? The reason why you’re so obsessed? You provide him with their address or what?”

  I stop to look at Mike. Allegations shoot out of his mouth like spit, not thinking before he speaks.

  “Yeah, I sold it to him for a few extra bucks for Beatles concert tickets.”

  Mike hesitates. Looks down at the table for a moment then says, “Carly, I just don’t get you. I don’t get why you want to do this. What guilt is driving you? So many things can go wrong. Please don’t do this.”

  “I have to, Mike. I think I need to. I don’t know. I’m all mixed up. I was a kid. A scared kid, but a cop’s kid who should have known better.” I take a sip of my drink. Don’t want to talk about it anymore but Mike keeps pressing.

  “Known better about what? Because you’re dad was a cop you should’ve picked up all his years of training just by living in the same house?”

  “Something like that, yeah.”

  “That absolute bullshit. And what makes you think I’d let you do this even if we do get back in?”

  “Like you could stop me?”

  “I could try.”

  “Not in your lifetime.”

  Mike sits back and looks around the room recognizing some of the people with a nod or a smile. I can tell he’s trying to maintain, trying to get control of his anger, but his hands are restless and his eyes are moist. Mike doesn’t like to get upset. He was taught to hide his anger. Always put on a smile.

  I watch him in silence as he struggles with his emotions. I want to reach out to him. Tell him he’s right. Rest my head on his shoulder and the two of us walk out of here. Together. Arm in arm. Let this moment of torment pass. Forget it ever happened. Go back to the motel and make love. Drive away in the morning and never look back.

  Just as I reach across the table for him, the bar phone rings loud and clear, like some bullhorn in a crowd, putting a halt to any and all activity. Even the music dies down. I stiffen and wait for an announcement.

  Bud answers. He listens, nodding his head, saying yes a couple times. We wait, watching Bud’s face. He says something I can’t make out and hangs up. Then he yells, “That was my wife. She wants me to bring home a carton of milk.” Everyone groans and boos. Bud laughs, holding out his hands as if to calm everybody. “Just kidding you guys. That was the warden. You’re back in.” The whole place goes up with a loud cheer. High-fives all over the room. Even the bikers cheer. The music starts up again. Various crew members come up to our booth to share their enthusiasm. I smile and make some inane comment. Mike does the same.

  Then, we stare at each other, each aware of what this decision means, how it will affect our lives. I hold up my glass to make a toast. “To the warden. A brilliant man who just locked in our destiny.”

  Mike stands, holding his glass. “To our future. Whatever it might b
e.”

  I smile at him, but he doesn’t return the gesture. Instead, he calmly puts his glass down on the table and walks out.

  Chapter Eighteen

  July 13, 1966

  About two a.m. or so I woke up because of the thunder and went downstairs to go to the bathroom. I hated lightning and thunder, but I had to pee worse than I was afraid. Sharon’s house had only one bathroom, right next to the kitchen, just past her parents’ room. If I woke them up for any reason, it would mean the end of us sleeping over for the rest of the summer. Her mother punished us in seasons. I guess it was easier for her to keep track that way. Last year we missed most of fall and all of winter because Lisa tripped and caught the end of the tablecloth on the dining room table. She brought down the expensive crystal centerpiece. That counted for two seasons of no sleep-overs. The centerpiece was brand new.

  I tiptoed through the house careful not to make any noise, mindful of where I was stepping. With the Beatles concert less than a month away, I couldn’t afford any seasonal punishments for Sharon. There was no telling what her mother would withhold.

  I reached the bathroom just as a bolt of lightning lit up the sky. It gave me a shiver as I hurried into the tiny room that always smelled of Jergens lotion. I closed the door tight behind me. The frosted window, right above the blue toilet, a few steps in front of me was open just enough so I could see Pauline’s boarding house next door and our tent out in the yard. I went over to close the window, not wanting anyone to see me pee, when a second wave of lightning lit up the world. There was a man standing next to Pauline’s basement window staring over at me. Fear zapped my nerve endings and I squealed as I jumped back, knocking over whatever was perched on the blue sink right next to me. It landed on the floor with a thud. I waited, pressed up against the sink, listening to my heart pounding in my ears, afraid that Sharon’s mother would come banging on the door at any minute, or that the man would come right up to my window, stick his hand inside and pull me out. I didn’t know which would be worse. I waited some more.

  Nothing happened.

  Slowly, I bent over a little to peek out of the window. The man was still out there but with his back to me. He was stooped over in front of one of Pauline’s basement windows, pulling at the corner of an old screen. The rain had died down a little as I watched him. All sorts of evil deeds rushed around in my head. Was he trying to break in through the windows? Maybe kill Pauline and Bobi or one of the boarders? Maybe I should wake up Sharon’s parents. Call my dad, or just scream at the man to get out of there.

  I didn’t know what to do, what to think. My dad would have gone after him with a gun and called me a hero for waking him up and saving poor Pauline. I thought about quietly calling the police, but by the time they arrived with sirens blaring the man would be gone and Sharon’s mother would absolutely, positively keep Sharon grounded until Christmas. No Beatles concert for Sharon or for me for that matter. How could I go without Sharon when I caused her punishment? I wouldn’t be able to live another moment. I wished that he would just go away.

  Then, he looked over his shoulder. I got a clear look at his face. He wasn’t just any man. He was our sailor, Wolf Dietrich!

  I put the toilet lid down so I could kneel on it, feet dangling over the seat, to get a better look out the window.

  Wolf kept pushing on Pauline’s basement windows. There were about five windows in all. He pulled out what looked like a pocket knife, flipped the long blade out then dug around the window, removed the screen and leaned it up against the wall.

  I thought this was very strange behavior. Why didn’t he just go in through the front door? Perhaps he had forgotten his key somewhere, but then why not just ring the bell? I’d seen sailors ring her bell before, but maybe he just didn’t want to wake her. Such a considerate man.

  I watched him for what seemed like a long time, trying to pry the window open, grateful now that I knew who he was and that he wasn’t some burglar who might hurt Pauline. A chill came over me as the wind and rain blew in through the open window. I grabbed my shoulders to keep warm when a marvelous thought came over me.

  Our letters. This was my chance to be a hero to both him and my friends. To have Sharon and Lisa grovel for the rest of time, never call me chicken again. But what about the kiss? Would he still want a kiss even in the rain? And why did he have to like me? Sharon was more his type than me.

  Okay, so I’d have to suffer a little. I could stand it. While he was out there trying to find an open window, I would simply run upstairs, get the letters, slip on a coat and shoes, sneak out the front door, run across the yard, ring Pauline’s doorbell so he didn’t have to break in, hand him the letters and maybe give him a peck on the cheek. He’d get out of the rain and I’d be a hero. I could be back in bed before anyone ever knew. In the morning, when we all got up to take down the tent, I’d tell Sharon and Lisa what happened and they’d be amazed by my courage.

  Suddenly, the light came on in the bathroom. I turned and standing in the doorway was Sharon’s mother.

  “What’s going on in here?” she said in a loud terse whisper, holding onto the top of her well-worn, floral pajamas.

  “Nothing. I was just going to the bathroom, that’s all.” I spun around on the toilet seat to face her, putting my feet on the damp floor.

  “In the dark?”

  “Saves electricity.”

  “What was that noise?”

  “What noise? I didn’t hear any noise, unless you mean the thunder.”

  “Don’t play dumb with me, Miss Rockett. I know the difference between thunder and something falling.”

  She looked around, and there on the floor, with its neck broken off lay a glass bottle of hand lotion oozing its evidence just two inches away from her bare feet. While she looked down at the mess, I snuck another peek out of the window. Wolf was gone, but I thought I saw a something move inside our tent.

  “What’s out there? What are you looking at?” she demanded and came straight at me. She bent down and looked outside for a moment, and then closed the window tight with a sharp explosion of noise. She was mad now and I didn’t want to get in her way.

  “Nothing. There’s nothing out there,” I announced, as if that should satisfy her.

  “Yes, there is.”

  I shook with fear that she had seen Wolf and would surely call the police because she wouldn’t understand that he wasn’t actually breaking into Pauline’s. I tried to think of a million reasons why she shouldn’t call the police, just in case I had to defend Wolf.

  “I thought I told you girls to take down that tent and bring it inside before you went to bed. Now it’s soaked. Clean up this mess, and if I hear one more peep out of any of you tonight there’ll be no Beatles concert for Sharon. You’ve just lost all sleep-over privileges until fall, young lady. And that goes for Lisa, too.” And with that menacing statement, she was gone.

  I realized that I couldn’t be a hero now. She would hear me for sure if I tried to sneak out. Defeated, I pulled out a wad of toilet paper, knelt down and cleaned up the mess on the floor. With the window closed everything got really quiet. I felt sad thinking that Wolf was somewhere out there, cold, wet, trying to get into the boarding house. But then a thought struck me, what if he decided to sleep in our tent? Sleep under our blankets? Put his greasy hair on our pillows? I didn’t like the thought of him that close to us.

  But before I let myself get completely creeped out I wanted to make sure he wasn’t really inside the tent. Unfortunately, I couldn’t get the window to open again to check for sure. It was one of those windows that sticks because of too many layers of paint.

  The rain fell in heavy pellets on the roof, and off in the distance I thought I could hear someone screaming. It was a man’s voice. I wondered if it could be Bobi. The sound of it gave me goose bumps. Sharon had told me that sometimes Bobi screamed at night, but up until that moment I’d never heard it. Sharon said Pauline told her mother Bobi had bad dreams sometimes and woke up
screaming. Pauline would try to calm him, but it was one of those things that Bobi had to work out for himself. The distress in his voice gave me the willies.

  I quickly finished cleaning up the lotion and threw the miserable sloppy mess into the trash next to the toilet. Then I ran upstairs.

  When I was finally back under the covers, listening to a mixture of heavy rain, thunder and Bobi screaming next door, I remembered that I had never peed.

  Chapter Nineteen

  September 11, 1987

  We’ve been back in F-house since about seven this morning. Getting ready. Working with some of our extras. It hasn’t been easy for me. My stomach is still reeling from last night’s conversation and the prison acid they call coffee just intensifies my situation. Don’t know why I keep drinking it. Must like the effect. Keeps my brain spinning.

  The nineteen-year-old prop girl was fired yesterday and Crew Cut, the fondling inmate, was sent to segregation until the filming is complete. Security’s high, not only because of what almost happened but because of the guard getting shot over at Menard. Don’t think it affects me or the Captain. Just have to be sharp, cool, silent, like two eagles drifting down on a snake’s nest.

  Got the call from the AD late last night. We start filming today, this afternoon as soon as the talent is ready. Our extras have to be prepped and blocked by noon, less than an hour from now. Hopefully, Mike’s a miracle man because so far, the inmates still have an attitude.

  Some of the electricians and carpenters came back to work through the night. Seems like everything’s been speeded up because of the trouble. The warden wants the filming wrapped up in a few days…at least that’s the plan as of this morning. It could all change in a heartbeat.

  No sign of the Captain this morning, or of Speck. I don’t know if we’re going to make our video today or wait until tomorrow. Don’t know if I can wait until tomorrow. Want to do it today, now, while I’m spinning.