Ceepak doesn't say a word.
“Ashley, of course, acted in self-defense. Your friend Ceepak understands. He would have done the same thing. Officer Ceepak doesn't like men who fornicate with small children. No. Not after what that priest did to his little brother. That's why he killed Squeegee.”
Ashley smiles prettily up at Ceepak.
“Thank you,” she tells him again.
“Miss Bell? Why don't you explain it to Danny? Everything. I'm sure he'd like to know, to understand.”
“Hmmm. Very clever. I see what you're up to, Johnny. Dragging your partner and this policewoman in deeper. Making them full accomplices. Smart. Very smart. Let's see … I should give you a little background. Would that be helpful young man?”
She's asking me. Smiling. Her teeth have all been capped. I can see metal rims. But that's not the only reason her grin reminds me of a mechanical witch from The Haunted Castle over on the boardwalk.
I say nothing, but I don't need to. She hesitates a moment then flashes a look to the guy she figures is her big-time co-conspirator: Ceepak.
Still beaming, still bright and sunny, Betty totally focuses on me.
“It all started when Ashley was three….”
Great. Ceepak has pried open the door but all the sick-o stuff is going to come tumbling out on top of me.
“Reginald would crawl into Ashley's bed and start tickling her. Tickle Bug he called it. Then he'd rub up against her soft pajamaed bottom with his erection. Do you know what he said the first time I caught him? That he was having a dream. A dream that he was with me, not Ashley. I, of course, believed him. I believed him for far too long.”
Yeah. I'd say so.
“Later, when I found the photographs-”
“He took photographs?” Jane is incredulous.
“Yes. Indeed. Of him and Ashley having intercourse. Ashley was four or five at the time….”
“Four, Mommy. My birthday, remember?”
“Hush, honey. Mommy's talking. Yes. That's right. It was right after the party with all her little friends … I suppose the event aroused Reginald….”
Ashley bows her head and stares at her hands.
“Why didn't you alert the proper authorities?” Jane asks.
Betty Bell stares at her like she's the silliest woman on earth.
“And whom might these proper authorities be? Someone Reginald did not already own? Some judge? Some police officer beyond his financial reach?”
“Yes, ma'am.”
“Oh, grow up. Reggie knows people. The kind who burn down buildings. Who kill people. No. I could not alert anybody. I could, however, negotiate a deal. He and I would divorce and, if he wanted … certain visitation privileges….”
Holy shit. She pimped her daughter.
“… well, those would cost extra. Maybe a beach house and butler? A trip to Paris? If we wanted to ski in Vail? Why, Reggie could purchase an extra weekend with Ashley. And the will. I was insistent about his will. Ashley must receive everything he owned. Reginald agreed. It was only fair.” She pats her daughter on the knee. “We were looking out for her future.”
“Thank you, Mommy.”
“Who am I?”
“You are my guardian angel.”
The two sunny blondes beam at each other on the bed.
“If you and Mr. Hart had it all worked out,” Ceepak says, “why'd you need to kill him?”
“Now that was not my fault. No, sir. You can blame that little matter on that bitch with the briefcase. She was the one-encouraging Reggie to re-write his will. Been nagging him about it for months. ‘Oh, certainly,’ she told him, ‘leave your daughter something. But not everything.' As if a few million dollars would be adequate compensation. No. We couldn't let Ms. Stone do that to us. We simply could not.”
“So you had Ashley shoot him.”
“That's right.”
Ashley tugs her mother's sleeve.
“Can we tell them how we did it, Mommy?”
“Of course, sweetheart. We're all in this together.”
She looks at me this time.
“Aren't we, Danny?”
It dawns on me: I was another part of the chief's plan. I was the one who'd make sure Ceepak was always where they needed him to be.
“Yeah,” I say. “I guess so.”
We're all in this shit together pretty damn deep.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
“Did you actually believe Reginald Hart would be caught dead sitting in the Tilt-A-Whirl at a cheap seaside amusement park?” Betty says. “Oh. I guess he was. He was caught dead.”
They giggle like sisters sharing a secret joke.
“That's funny, Mommy.”
Betty loves having an audience hanging on her every word, even if those words are, basically, a murder confession.
“The two of them didn't go there because Reggie liked bending the rules! Or because Ashley had a turtle named Stinky!”
“Stinky!” Ashley giggles some more. “That's such a silly name for a turtle!”
“The whole Tilt-A-Whirl scenario was preposterous! But Chief Cosgrove knew the comings and goings of certain vagrants who frequented the spot and would provide us with a convenient scapegoat. Someone for Officer Ceepak to go shoot, thereby curtailing any investigation that might eventually lead to us.”
“Mr. Ceepak?” Ashley's eyes look so innocent staring at her hero. “I'm sorry I lied to you.”
“You did not lie!” Betty says sweetly. “Officer Ceepak simply chose to believe what you told him.” She winks at him. “Bob told me you had a soft spot for children-especially children in any sort of danger.”
Ceepak turns to Ashley.
“Tell me what happened that morning at the Tilt-A-Whirl.”
“Can I, Mommy?”
“Yes dear. They need to know so they can help us keep it secret.”
“Okay.” Ashley smoothes out her pants like I've seen her mother smooth out a skirt. “I told Daddy that the Tilt-A-Whirl was where all the really cool kids went nowadays to make out. I told him I wouldn't do any of the stuff he wanted me to do, not in the beach house, anyway. Not with Ms. Stone staying in the guest cottage and all.”
“Then what?”
“Let's see. We had to get up real, real early Saturday morning because we had to do everything before the beach got crowded and while you two were still eating pancakes. Ms. Stone dropped us off and we ran around to the beach and snuck in under the fence. I had my beach bag….”
The bag we found with the cartoon monkey on it.
“… ‘cause that's where I had the gun. Uncle Bob got it for me.”
“Chief Robert Cosgrove is Uncle Bob?” Ceepak asks.
“Yes. He and Mommy are dating….”
“Ashley, sweetie, that's not correct. I've told you: We're simply two adults who enjoy each other's company.”
“Anyway,” Ashley moves on, “Mommy was late.”
“Only a few minutes.”
“She was supposed to pick up the gun from the little tunnel under the fence right after seven….”
“But I had to be at the bank at seven … the time we scheduled for the actual shooting.”
“Then she needed a ciggy-boo.”
“Ashley?”
“You did!”
“Dear. Please.”
“Sorry.”
“Are you finished?”
“Yes, Mommy.”
“I can tell my story?”
“I'm sorry.”
Betty beams at us.
“Suffice it to say-I missed my cue … ever so slightly….”
And dropped your ciggy-boo butt on the beach.
“But I got there, didn't I, sweetheart?”
“Yes, Mommy.”
“It was my job to take the gun. If Ashley had a pistol tucked in her panties, why even you might have figured something was awry. Where are my cigarettes now, honey?”
“In the other room?”
“Be a sweetie. Fetch them for Mommy.”
Ashley stands up. Ceepak motions for her to sit back down.
“Later.”
“I'd really like a cigarette….”
“Just finish walking us through it.”
“Fine.” She sighs. Smiles. She can flip a scowl into “say cheese” faster than anybody I've ever met.
“Ashley climbed over the chain-link fence at the entrance- something we practiced at the playground-ran up Ocean Avenue, and put on the performance of her life!”
“I'm a very good actress, aren't I?”
Ceepak nods. “One of the best I've ever seen.”
“And this was way harder than Our Town! I had like so much stuff to memorize….”
“Ashley? Why don't you give them a brief encore?”
Ashley stands up, takes a deep breath.
“My fa … fa … fa … ther! He killed my father! The crazy man. The crazy man!”
“She's good, isn't she? All right, dear. Sit back down. Thank you. You, of course, can see why she won the drama competition at her school two years running!”
“You know what my favorite part was?” Ashley says, looking right at me. “The free fudge at Pudgy's!”
Mom shoots her a look.
“Fudge? No wonder you're so fat. Have you seen how big her bottom has become? Anyway, where were we? Oh, yes-Bob picked Ashley up in his chief's car and reminded her what Squeegee looked like. Showed her some photographs we had taken of the man….”
“Later, I forgot about the beard,” Ashley says. “About what kind it was. Uncle Bob helped me!”
“So did I. When I brought you down to the beach house….”
Ceepak's had enough of the Betty Bell show. He wants to change the channel.
“Tell me about the kidnapping, Ashley.”
“Can I, Mommy?”
“Yes, dear.”
I can tell Betty hates sharing the spotlight. But ever the good Weather Gal, she realizes it's time to toss things over to the Sports Guy.
“Okay. Let's see. I climbed out of my window and all to make it look like, you know, I really was sneaking out to see Ben. I had to be real quiet. Uncle Bob was on the beach with his boat … but he was wearing these hiking boots with his swimsuit and that made him look so silly. I called Ben on my cell from the rowboat….”
“What happened after the boat ride?” Ceepak asks.
“Uncle Bob took me to the train depot and I stayed in my room like Mommy told me to do.”
“The baggage room?”
“Yes, sir.”
“You stayed there all Saturday night and Sunday?”
“Yes, sir. It was kind of scary and I couldn't leave or make any noise or I'd ruin everything. I peed in my pants.”
“Ashley? Really. Do we need to know that?”
“Sorry, Mommy.”
“Must've been hard,” Ceepak says. “Up there all alone.”
“It was.”
“We all made sacrifices,” says her mother the martyr.
“Can I have my bracelets back?” Ashley asks shyly.
“The ones we found?”
“Yes. Uncle Bob made me drop them so you would find clues and stuff. Can I have those back? My daddy bought them for me….”
“She doesn't want them,” Betty says. “Throw them away. Burn them.”
“Mommy?”
“We'll buy new bracelets. We're very rich now, remember?”
Ashley drops her head again.
“By the way….” Betty lowers her voice. “Did Chief Cosgrove offer you three people any of our money? I don't really think you've done enough to warrant payment; however, if Bob made certain promises….”
“What'd you do while you waited in the baggage room?” Ceepak asks Ashley.
“Nothing,” Ashley mumbles.
“She ate candy bars and drank soda pop!” Her mother sounds very disappointed in her.
I hear the apartment door open.
I look down the hall and see Morgan and a couple of his guys.
Betty is watching me. “Who's that?”
“I think it's the cavalry.”
She ignores me and goes to the door.
“Oh, god. Did they follow you here? Hush, Ashley!” Betty hisses. “Not another word.”
“Yes, Mommy.”
Ceepak calls out to Morgan.
“Hey!”
“Hey,” the FBI agent answers. “We'll wait out here, in the foyer.”
“Thanks.”
“Officer Ceepak?” Betty is puzzled.
“Yes?”
“Do they know about you and Squeegee?”
“Yes, ma'am. They know I didn't shoot him.”
“What?”
“I did not shoot Squeegee. By the way-his real name? It's Jerry Shapiro.”
“You didn't shoot him?”
“No, ma'am. You see, I gave my word that I would not.”
“So …?”
“We're not in this together.”
All of a sudden, there's this squeal of feedback.
“Sorry about that,” Morgan calls from the foyer, adjusting the volume on the walkie-talkie clipped to his belt.
“No,” Ceepak says. “My fault. I forgot to turn mine off.”
I see a red light glowing on the walkie-talkie clipped to the back of Ceepak's belt.
So does Betty.
She understands now that Morgan and the FBI have heard everything.
“You son of a bitch. I'm going to call Cosgrove-”
“Chief Cosgrove can't help you any more,” says Ceepak. “He's in jail.”
“You goddamn son of a bitch!”
Ceepak ignores Betty. “Ashley, remember when I gave you my word? Said I would protect you?”
“Yes.”
“I meant that. I'm going to take you away from your mother now-”
“No!”
“We'll take you someplace safe, okay, sweetie?”
“Get away!”
“Jane?” Ceepak says calmly. “Please take Ashley out of here.”
Betty stretches her arms to her daughter, but Ceepak restrains her.
“Come on, honey,” Jane encourages.
“No! I need to stay with Mommy. Stop!” Ashley kicks at Ceepak.
“Leave her alone!”
Jane reaches for Ashley.
“Come on, honey!” she repeats.
“No!” Ashley screams like I hope I never hear anybody ever scream again. “No! I want my mommy! I want her now!” Ashley is kicking and blubbering, her whole body shaking.
Ceepak loosens his grip. Betty loses her balance and falls to the bed. Ashley immediately curls up against her, her thumb in her mouth.
Betty is wailing into the bedspread.
Ashley twists her head back to face us, just as Morgan and his men enter from the hallway.
“Leave my mother alone,” she hisses at Ceepak, “or I'll kill you, you son of a bitch! I'll kill you!”
He steps back.
Ashley grabs a stuffed animal. A pink lamb. She squeezes her hand tight around its neck and glares at Ceepak, then Jane, then Morgan, then me.
“I'll kill you all, you goddamn bastards!”
I think we just lost another child.
EPILOGUE
I'm not a lawyer, but I hope Ashley gets a good one. She needs to be locked up in a loony bin, not a juvenile detention center or whatever. But like I said, I'm not a lawyer.
The chief and Miss Betty Bell?
They're in custody and need very good lawyers.
Me? I'm thinking about becoming a cop full-time. Not that I'll ever be as good as Ceepak, but I think the world could use a few more guys trying to be half that decent.
Ceepak?
They rocked his world. Rocked it hard.
Defend the defenseless, do your sworn duty, look for the good in everything, and then boom-he turns over this rock and sees nothing underneath but worms.
But he's still on the job.
At least today.
We meet at The Pan
cake Palace at 8 A.M. Tuesday. Ceepak decided we've both earned an extra half hour of sleep.
Everybody in the place is pretty glum, barely pushing their pancakes around their plates, glued to their newspapers, reading how a little girl and her mother and the Sea Haven chief of police tried to dupe us all. Sent us for a ride on our own little Tilt-A-Whirl. You can hear a lot of stainless steel scraping against plates this morning. Not much else.
Ceepak's back to fruit and cereal.
I order the same thing. Figure I should at least try it. At least this once.
We eat in silence.
Every now and then, the waitress comes over to pour us more coffee and that sloshing is the loudest sound in the dining room.
Maybe tomorrow will be better.
Maybe Springsteen is right.
Maybe faith will be rewarded.
Maybe tomorrow.
“You ready to roll?” Ceepak says when half his cereal is gone. Guess he's not so hungry this morning. Me neither.
“Yeah. Where to?”
“Wherever.”
He's right. We are currently without a boss, since there's no chief of police on the job in Sea Haven. We can make up our own duty roster.
“How about we cruise up Beach Lane? It's busy this time of day….”
“That'll work.”
We pay and head to the parking lot.
I wonder if Ceepak will stay in Sea Haven.
After all, he was sort of lured down here under false pretenses. It's not like he grew up here or has family here. His one friend? His old Army buddy? You know what they say about friends like that- they're total assholes.
We cruise up the road fronting the beach. I see people lugging all sorts of gear across the street and down to the sand.
“Pull ‘em over.”
I don't know who Ceepak is talking about.
“Pull ‘em over.”
He points to these two kids riding bicycles behind their father in the bike lane with the other bikers and joggers and early morning fast-walkers. The kids don't appear to be doing anything terribly illegal.
But I do as I'm told.
I whoop the siren once and give the lights up top a twirl.
The father looks over his shoulder and motions to his kids to stop.
I pull the Ford over to the curb.
The family straddles their bikes. Other people stop what they're doing to rubberneck. Ceepak and I climb out of the Explorer.
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