by Alex Barclay
The place half-stinks.
Paul was alone in the living room. He raised his eyebrows when she walked in. ‘Well?’
‘Good call,’ said Ren. ‘I can just about handle this.’ She looked around. ‘So many questionable surfaces …’
‘Sit beside me,’ said Paul, smoothing out the sofa cushion.
Clyde came back in. ‘I feel like I should offer you some coffee.’
Feel away. ‘There’s no need,’ said Ren. We’re happy with our current gut flora. She stood up. ‘Sorry, Clyde – I didn’t introduce myself. I’m Ren Bryce, I’m on the CARD team with Paul.’
Clyde sat down on an armchair, nodded without looking up. ‘You’re a beautiful lady.’
Ren laughed. ‘Thank you.’ Blind drunk already.
‘We wanted to talk to you about why you came to the press conference,’ said Ren, ‘and what you were saying about the lake, your concerns about Caleb.’
Clyde’s eyes went wide, but his gaze stayed on the floor. He was kneading something between his thumb and forefinger. He held up an opaque white stone.
Ooh – moonstone. ‘That’s beautiful,’ said Ren.
He held it out to her.
Cooties!
She took it in her hand. ‘It’s really beautiful.’ Hand sanitizer, hand sanitizer.
He beamed. She handed it back to him. ‘Thank you. Did you get that in Gemstones in town?’
Are you connected to Teddy Veir?
Clyde shook his head. ‘No, no …’ He kept shaking his head.
‘Where did you get it?’ said Ren.
He shrugged. ‘Been such a long time, I can’t remember.’
Ren nodded. ‘So,’ she said. ‘The lake … what can you tell me?’
There was a haunted look in his eye. ‘Aaron was a strong swimmer.’
Aaron? She and Paul exchanged glances.
‘He’d lived by that lake for seven years,’ said Clyde. ‘I was so shocked …’ He trailed off.
‘That he drowned?’ said Paul.
Ren could see Clyde’s hand shaking. His foot started to tap the floor.
‘Clyde,’ said Ren. ‘You can trust us. I promise. What is it?’
‘The lake …’
Ren leaned into him. ‘Are you … afraid of the lake?’
He thought about it, brought his gaze a little higher, his eyes pale, watery, flickering with questions.
‘I’m afraid of Gil Wiley.’
The what now? ‘Wiley?’ said Ren.
‘Wiley …’ said Clyde, ‘is going to kill me.’
‘Why do you think that?’ said Ren.
‘Cos I drive him crazy – that’s why. That’s why I’m always trying to get past him to Pete. But Wiley stands in my way the whole time.’
Always? How many times do you come forward with shit?
‘He’s a dismissive man,’ said Clyde. ‘Very dismissive.’
‘What do you feel he’s dismissing?’ said Paul.
‘What I’ve been trying to tell him,’ said Clyde. ‘About Aaron Fuller.’
He lowered his head, then brought his wide, fearful eyes for the first time to meet Ren’s. ‘I don’t think it was an accident,’ said Clyde. ‘Or maybe it was. I don’t know.’ He shrugged. ‘But something else definitely happened to Aaron. I think … maybe he had been hurt before he went into the water.’
21
Ren’s heart was pounding. She nodded calmly.
Let’s not freak him out.
Let’s not hang on his every word, either.
Reliability level? Blood alcohol level?
‘OK,’ said Ren. ‘Talk us through why you think that. We’re listening.’
Clyde nodded. ‘Thank you. OK, so when you get a bruise, you break capillaries and blood leaks out, but it could take ten or twelve hours for the bruise to come up. If you die, your heart stops, the blood’s not pumping around any more, so the bruise might never appear. Aaron was found floating in the lake – lucky to be found, too. If he didn’t go in somewhere shallow, he wouldn’t have been.’
‘It would have been spring before the body surfaced,’ said Ren.
‘Exactly.’
‘At autopsy,’ said Clyde, ‘the ME figured he drowned – that’s what the evidence pointed to. But, you know, an ME will only resect the back tissue if it’s an abuse case, or he suspects abuse and therefore hidden bruising. But, otherwise, if the back looks fine, he would have no reason to do that.’
Ren nodded.
‘How it works is, embalming fluid replaces blood in the vascular system,’ said Clyde. ‘It makes any blood that’s in the tissue stand out better …’
It’s so weird listening to words like that coming out of a man like him. He loves this. And it’s been taken away from him.
‘When that happened with Aaron,’ said Clyde. ‘I saw a large bruise at the center of his back …’
Ren’s heart rate shot up.
‘That bruise could have been because he was hurt before he died,’ said Clyde. ‘Or … because someone was holding him under the water.’ He shifted forward in his seat. ‘That could’ve been the mark of a knee in his back is what I’m trying to say.’ He shrugged. ‘At the very least, though, I think he suffered an injury of some kind.’
Holy shit. ‘Absolutely,’ said Ren.
Clyde’s face was flooded with relief.
And now for the awful part. ‘I have to ask,’ said Ren. ‘I’m aware that you lost your job that day—’
‘I was stone-cold sober when I worked on Aaron,’ said Clyde.
‘Please look at me,’ said Ren.
Clyde shook his head, his lips pursed.
Ren reached out and squeezed his forearm. ‘We’re not here to judge you, not in any way. We just need you to tell us the truth. I can’t stress to you enough how important this is. We need the absolute truth, here, OK? Whatever that is. Because we can do something about it, once we know …’
Tears filled Clyde’s eyes. He wiped at them with his sleeve. ‘I’m a goddamn mess, I’m a mess …’
‘No, you’re not,’ said Ren. ‘That was a difficult job for you. Embalming a child, the child of someone you knew …’
‘Yes!’ said Clyde. ‘It was terrible.’
Ren waited. She could hear his breathing, growly, uneven. She looked at his fingers and noticed, for the first time, the nicotine stains. She imagined his hands before they spent most of their time gripping a bottle of liquor, younger, paler hands, years from being gnarled and ruddy, and yellowed.
All that alcohol flowing through your veins. Then embalming fluid.
I’m a terrible human being… . who loves alcohol flowing through her veins.
‘I may have had one drink …’ said Clyde.
Fuck. ‘One?’ said Ren.
He kept his eyes on his hands.
‘Look at me,’ said Ren. He didn’t.
‘It was only … it … it … took a lot out of me,’ said Clyde. ‘Brought back some bad, bad memories. This boy, only a boy, laid out, his life over, only eleven years old. Do you remember being eleven? I do. I was having the time of my life, it was all ahead of me. You never for a second think anything bad’s going to happen to you, you just think that whatever dreams you have will come true. And …’ He shrugged. ‘You never know when your life is going to be taken – gone, up in smoke. I know that, after I left the job, a seven-year-old kid was brought in – choked on a sandwich. Gone. Just like that …’
‘Pete mentioned that to us,’ said Ren. She paused. ‘What bad memories did Aaron’s death bring back for you?’
‘I … my sister,’ said Clyde. ‘My sister, Lizzie, died. She was only ten years old. She fell through a rotted deck at Lake Verny. No one listened to me … I … was the custodian there. It was a summer job when I was in high school, but I took it seriously. But, I guess, no one took me seriously.’
Ren nodded. ‘That must have been very hard for you. But your sister’s accident wasn’t your fault.’
He looked up
at her. ‘I should have pushed harder. I should have ignored the owners when they said not to fix the deck yet.’
She looked at his eyes, red-rimmed, sad, and prickling with fear. Her heart sank. You poor guilt-ridden man.
‘No one listens to me,’ said Clyde. ‘Maybe if I didn’t do this …’ He swept a hand across the empty beer bottles on the floor.
‘Please don’t beat yourself up,’ said Ren. ‘We’re not doubting your memory. But I do have to ask you about your drinking that night.’
‘I understand. I understand.’
‘How much had you had to drink?’
‘I did the job, sober, like I said,’ said Clyde. ‘I prayed over Aaron’s body. Then I walked away from it. I was in a bad way. I had a bottle of vodka in my locker, I … I took a few swigs, maybe … drank half of it.’
Fuuuck. ‘Half of?’
‘A liter bottle.’
Fuuuck once more.
‘Can you really be sure of what you saw?’ said Ren.
‘One hundred per cent,’ said Clyde.
‘Why didn’t you say it to Pete yesterday?’ said Ren.
‘I said it to Gil Wiley!’ said Clyde. ‘When he was dragging me through the gates. And he told me to shut the hell up. I asked him to tell Pete. And he told me to shut the hell up again. I asked him could I tell Pete myself, and he said: “If you mention one word to Pete Ruddock about this, you’ll be the one with the bruises.” Then he said Pete couldn’t stand the sight of me, that he was only ever nice to me because he had a reputation to protect, that Pete just pities me.’
What an asshole.
‘He told me I was no different to any other alcoholic out there,’ said Clyde, ‘except for the fact that Pete hated me the most. Then Wiley said if I dared to interfere in a police investigation, he would have me hauled up in front of a judge and I would be incredible.’
Don’t laugh.
‘An incredible witness,’ said Clyde. ‘I mean, I wouldn’t be considered credible.’ He blushed.
Ugh: this is awful.
‘He said that would mean even more people not taking me seriously,’ said Clyde. ‘Officially – in a court of law. He told me if he had to do one page of paperwork because of my bullshit, that he would throw me into Lake Verny himself.’
‘Let me talk to Wiley,’ said Ren.
‘Don’t tell him I told you!’ said Clyde.
‘Could anyone else in the crowd have heard him at the gates, telling you to shut the hell up?’ said Ren.
‘Yes,’ said Clyde. He paused. ‘Just … “hell” wasn’t the exact word.’
Ren laughed.
‘You know – you’re a lady,’ said Clyde.
A lady who says fuck more times than you know.
‘OK,’ said Ren, ‘Well, I can let on to Wiley that someone else overheard this – I don’t have to bring you into it yet. And, Clyde – just so you know, Pete Ruddock considers you a friend. He speaks very fondly of you.’
Clyde gave a broad smile. ‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘That’s really nice to hear.’
Ren leaned toward him again. ‘Have you spoken to anyone else about this, apart from Wiley?’
‘No.’
‘Good,’ said Ren. ‘We’re going to need you to keep this to yourself, OK? I promise you that we are taking this seriously. We’re going to go back to Tate PD right now to speak with Pete.’
Clyde nodded. His face was a mix of relief and fear.
Someone is taking you seriously.
But even you’re not sure if they should.
I know the feeling.
22
Back at Tate PD, Ren met Wiley on her way to the ladies’ room.
‘Wiley, could I have a word, please?’
Wiley shrugged, stopped.
God, you hate me. ‘I was wondering,’ said Ren, ‘the other day with Clyde Brimmer … someone said that you told him to shut the fuck up about the bruise on Aaron Fuller’s back. He does seem to be a real nuisance, but I was just curious what the bruise was, and why you didn’t give it any consideration.’
‘Oh, I gave it consideration,’ said Wiley. ‘Here’s what I considered: is this man ever sober? And are drunk people reliable witnesses?’
‘He swears blind that he wasn’t drinking while he embalmed the body.’
‘Swears blind drunk.’
‘Come on,’ said Ren, ‘give him a break.’
‘Look, you’re not from around here, you don’t know the shit that goes on. You don’t know Clyde, you don’t know what a pain in the ass he is; “nuisance” – sounds cute – is an understatement, you don’t hear the paranoid, conspiracy-theory shit he comes out with. Oh, the world is going to hell in a hand basket, according to Clyde. Lake Verny is haunted, “the lake has secrets that the rain wants to tell” – I’ve heard that a hundred times. The Pope has never and will never shit in the fucking woods. And on and on and on.’
‘This wasn’t about the lake being haunted,’ said Ren. ‘This was him saying that Aaron was possibly hurt before he went into the water.’
His look was a giant fuck-you. ‘Sure, he might think he was hurt, but he still thinks the lake is haunted,’ said Wiley. ‘He probably figured it would make him sound too nuts to say it to you. It’s pretty simple: Clyde Brimmer embalmed a body while he was drunk. He was already freaked out, because of the haunted lake thing. Now he’s got one of its victims lying right there in front of him. Think about it: does Clyde want his worst fears confirmed? That the lake itself is actually killing people? Or would he like to find some evidence on that body that, in fact, someone – a person – is responsible?’
‘But, wouldn’t a “victim of the lake itself” vindicate him?’ said Ren. ‘Wouldn’t it go a little way to have people believe his claims that the lake is haunted?’
‘Yes,’ said Wiley, ‘absolutely. It’s just that, at that moment, it probably boiled down to what was more important – for him to be terrified for the rest of his life, or for there to be a more rational explanation for Aaron’s death.’
He’s not talking complete horseshit.
‘Look,’ said Wiley, ‘he says he saw a bruise on Aaron’s back. You could look at that two ways: a) sure, there could have been a bruise if Aaron slipped into the water and hit something on the way in and b) there was no bruise, because it would have been picked up at autopsy. And c) does it actually matter at this point? The kid drowned. It’s tragic, sure, but why would anyone intentionally drown Aaron Fuller?’
Wow: where do I start with all that is wrong with that?
Don’t start.
‘OK – thanks,’ said Ren. ‘Just one thing, though – Clyde did admit that he drank only after he finished embalming the body. And I believe him.’
‘Like I said, you’re not from around here.’
Missing out daily on you serving and protecting me, dickwad.
Ren and Paul gathered the CARD team and Ruddock together and filled them in on what Clyde claimed he saw.
Gary looked at Ruddock. ‘You might want to look into getting an exhumation order. I’m not saying this is connected to Caleb Veir, but something’s not right here.’
Go, Gary!
Paul Louderback nodded. ‘Yeah, I agree.’
Ruddock nodded.
Sylvie paused. ‘I’m sorry, I don’t. The guy’s a drunk …’
‘He’s terrified,’ said Ren. ‘He’s been fired. He could lose his license. And still, he came forward. Especially considering he’s already in trouble, he’s already marked out as someone who breached his professional code of conduct.’
Oh. Hold on … ‘Can you give me half an hour?’
Gary looked at her patiently.
‘Well, that’s a resounding no,’ said Ren.
‘What is it?’ said Gary.
‘OK … the guy’s breached his professional code of conduct by drinking. He’s already in trouble … what else might he have done that would get him in trouble if it got out?’
‘Ooh – quiz,’ said
Sylvie.
Ooh – miaow. ‘He might have taken a photo on his cell phone after downing his vodka,’ said Ren. ‘I’d take a photo if I thought something looked suspicious. But as soon as I was sober, I’d know that that would be a major breach of the whole respect, care, and dignity part of my code of professional conduct. And if that got out, I’d be in serious shit for doing it. So I’d be disinclined to ’fess up … especially to law enforcement.’
‘Did he respond well to you?’ said Gary. ‘If you asked him, do you think he would show you?’
‘Of course he responded well to Ren,’ said Paul.
Jesus, Paul. ‘I think we got along,’ said Ren. ‘Let me talk to him.’ She turned to Ruddock. ‘With you?’
‘Sure,’ said Ruddock.
‘Is there any update on Franklin J. Merrifield?’ said Gary.
‘There’s been no sign of him,’ said Ruddock. ‘Investigators have gone to all his former addresses, to the homes of his family, known associates, known hangouts. They’re checking out whether there’s anything in his personal life he might have wanted to get out for.’
‘Merrifield has maintained his innocence throughout,’ said Ren. ‘His appeal just got rejected. Say it’s true – he is innocent. That means he got royally screwed over by his accomplice, got a longer sentence than him, and is now branded a rapist – his first time with a sex crime conviction – and he’ll be in prison for the rest of his life. That’s a man with nothing to lose. If something happened between Veir and Merrifield in BRCI …’ said Ren. She paused. ‘Did anyone talk to the prison psychologists about Merrifield’s state of mind? Didn’t one of their names show up on John Veir’s phone dump? Lockwood, was it? Maybe it’s worth making a call to him. And isn’t it worth talking to Seth Fuller about Merrifield, see if they crossed paths? Or if he’s aware whether Merrifield and John Veir did? Veir might be too afraid to talk.’
Ren left the meeting first, and walked toward the kitchen to get coffee. She felt someone coming up beside her and turned to see Wiley.
Now he shows up …
‘When we spoke earlier?’ said Wiley. ‘I think you may have forgotten to tell me about Clyde Brimmer? That you and your buddy, Paul, had already gone to talk to him? Without a word to me or Pete?’
