His bulky frame lumbered into the room as he made his way over to the foot of my bed. I hadn’t seen nor heard from him since he beat the daylights out of me the Sunday before. I couldn’t fathom why he had decided to grace me with his presence, and something rolling around in my stomach was telling me I didn’t want to know.
“Yeah, you did. I came up here to pick up my Aunt. She’s being released today, but her paperwork ain’t finished yet, so I figured since I was here…” he said, his eyes darting around the room like a frightened animal. Obviously, stopping in to check on my welfare wasn’t the reason for his visit.
“Well, thanks for stopping by, but I’m fine. Really. You should go now, before someone sees you in here and starts asking questions.”
“Don’t go gettin’ all snooty on me, dude. I haven’t even told you the bad news yet.”
I gulped hard, knowing the next words out of his mouth wasn’t going to be good news for me.
“Sorry, Trevor. I am still not feeling too well. Should have seen the size of the Mack truck than ran over me.” I replied, trying to force some levity into the situation before he dropped a bomb on me.
“Funny, dude…real funny.”
I tried to put my lawyer hat on and remain calm.
“What is it that you need to tell me, Trevor?”
He shifted from one foot to the other, his enormous body unable to hide his fear.
“Well, you know how you told me to act all normal and stuff, and to continue doin’ all the things I normally do? Well, um, Sunday night, I went to Smokey Joe’s and had a few drinks.”
Oh shit, the tale isn’t going to end well.
“Please tell me that you didn’t get drunk and tell some bartender what happened?” I asked, my own edginess seeping into my words.
“No, no, course not. I told ya I would keep my mouth shut, and I am a man of my word. So is Frankie. The problem is not us talking, but who’s listenin’.”
“Trevor, I’m on pain medication, so please, don’t make my head spin any more than what it already is. What do you mean, ‘but who’s listening’?”
“I mean, I drank too much, passed out in the bathroom of the bar, which anyone that knows me wouldn’t bat an eye at, but I woke up empty handed.”
I just stared at him, not fully comprehending what he was getting at for a moment until he motioned to his breast pocket of his wrinkled shirt.
“Trevor, are you trying to tell me that you had the tape with you, at the bar, and you lost it?”
“Yeah, that’s what I’m sayin’.”
Dear God in Heaven.
The room began to spin, and I felt nauseous.
“Dude, you all right? Need some water or somethin’?”
I couldn’t speak so I just nodded my head. Trevor moved fast for a big guy and snatched up the pitcher and refilled it at the sink, then came back and filled my cup and handed it to me. I drank greedily from it, hoping maybe the coolness would help calm my nerves.
Nope, no such luck.
Surely he was mistaken. Surely he wasn’t so fucking stupid as to keep the tape on his person. Surely he misplaced it and just couldn’t remember what little cubbyhole he stashed it in. I wanted to scream.
“Trevor, are you one hundred percent certain that you had it with you at the bar? You didn’t leave it at home, in a safe place, and just forgot where you put it?”
“I never let it leave my pocket. I was afraid someone might find it and figured it was safest with me at all times. I even went back to Smokey Joe’s and looked in the bathroom. It ain’t there, dude.”
I couldn’t believe what I just heard. The nightmare was supposed to be over. I only had Olin record the thing because I wanted to hear every single monstrous thing he had ever done to ease my conscience about killing him. Well, that, and I wanted the bastard to have all those evil deeds be the last things he ever thought of right before he died so he would be sure to understand that he was getting exactly the punishment he deserved for all of them. I closed my eyes and forced myself to go back to the moment I handed him the tape and remembered every single detail, every word, every sordid story. I recalled that none of us ever spoke during the entire thirty-plus minutes of the tape, and Olin never alluded to anyone else being there. It was strictly him rehashing his past deeds.
That smidgen of knowledge made my heartbeat slow and my breathing settle down close to normal. Yes, it would be bad if the tape ever made it into the hands of someone that knew Olin’s voice or happened to be one of his victims. God knows, were many of them out there. Other than that, if some random person happened to listen to it, they would have no clue who was talking. Not only that, the chances of our fingerprints still being on it were slim at best, so even if the cops somehow wound up in possession of it, they wouldn’t be able to tie it back to any of us.
I opened my eyes and found Trevor still standing at the foot of my bed, his giant paws gripping the foot rail. Although he was trying to hide it, it was patently obvious that he was nervous.
The next ten minutes I spent explaining to him what I had been thinking, assuring him that we were going to be okay, and that this wasn’t the colossal fuck up like he seemed to think it was. When he finally left my room, his demeanor was much calmer than when he first came in. I reiterated that he should not contact me again and that as far as he was concerned, the only time he ever spoke to me was the day at his Aunt’s house.
I hoped the big oaf listened this time.
Fully awash in nervous sweat, I leaned back against the stiff hospital sheets and stared out the window, seeing nothing but one news van after another. It was one thing to sit alone and contemplate your dirty deeds since thinking about them in your head made them a private matter. However, having a cohort discuss out loud your transgressions and potential troubles with them brings things out of the darkness and into the forefront of your thoughts.
There was a part of me that did feel bad for dragging two complete strangers into my retribution plans. Oh, who was I kidding? I didn’t force anyone anywhere. Trevor had been practically foaming at the mouth that day at his aunt’s house, ready to kill. The anguish we both felt at drew us together, like some cosmic force that we couldn’t control. We both could read behind each other’s eyes the true thoughts of the other, and it seemed like the most natural thing in the world to join forces and “take care of budniz” as Trevor put it. Neither he nor Frankie would ever be Rhodes Scholars, but for what they lacked in the brain department they more than made up for in bulk.
Another news van pulled up into the already-crowded parking lot while I contemplated the events of the last seventy-two hours. Getting out of this place unscathed by the media was going to be damn near impossible. Dr. Kingston said that I should be able to leave tomorrow, thank God, but looking at the crowd outside made me nervous. I didn’t want a bunch of obnoxious reporters clamoring for an interview.
My car was still at the jail, which was probably about ten miles away. If I could just find someone to drive it back, I could swing by the hotel and grab my belongings and head back to Phoenix. Driving with a heavy plaster on my arm would be difficult, but not impossible. I was willing to withstand the discomfort anyway just to get the hell out. When I spoke with my boyfriend, Bob, late last night, he reminded me that he wouldn’t be back from his medical conference in Australia until Friday. He wanted to cut his trip short and come back earlier, but I convinced him that I was fine and to stay. He had worked hard for months planning his trip, and I wasn’t about to let the filth I had been wallowing in taint his life too. My brother offered to come get me yesterday, but he lived in Los Angeles, which was really too much to ask for him to fly out, procure a rental car, drive up and rescue me. I thanked him for the offer but declined, not the least bit interested in listening to all of his questions that he would inevitably have. That is also the same reason I refused to call anyone from work to come get me either. Too many questions about Roger, too many questions about the events of Sunday night, and
I just didn’t have it in me to start the lying fest so soon.
That left me with finding help locally. The only people I knew in Summerset were Trevor, Frankie, and Steve. Trevor and Frankie were immediately scratched from that list for obvious reasons, but was I losing my connection with reality by even contemplating asking Steve for help? I mean, my ex-wife tried to kill his girlfriend for God’s sake. On the flip side of that, though, I believe that he read through the lines and knew that Olin’s death was orchestrated by me, and no cops had come in to arrest me yet, which meant he kept that little goodie to himself. Perhaps there was a chance he would help me.
Decision made, I reached for the phone to call the nurse and ask for water and for Audra’s room number. I needed to get out of bed anyway, so a stroll in the wheelchair to check on Audra sounded like a plan and a great excuse to strike up a conversation with Steve. It took me several minutes to maneuver my sore body around the bed and into the wheelchair, and all the grunting and groaning while doing so made me sound like my grandfather. Situated finally, I tried to reach for the phone by the bed but realized I couldn’t stretch far enough to grab it. Frustrated and sweating profusely, I decided to just wheel myself to the nurse’s station. I held on tight to the edge of the handrails on the bed and swung the chair around in the direction of the door, then froze. How many more times must my heart jump into my throat today?
“Well, Nick, I am glad to see that you are awake and moving around.”
The pain medication I shied away from earlier would have been nice at present since I would rather be fighting Olin’s ghost in my dreams than be facing his son in real life. His presence in my room could only mean trouble for me, and I wasn’t sure I could withstand any more surprises today.
He looked like a homeless, heroin-addicted junkie. His clothes were rumpled and hung from his gaunt frame. The memory of a conversation with Piper years before popped into my head, when she told me about Olin’s troubles with Ethan’s drug abuse. According to Piper, the expensive rehab stints that Olin and his wife paid for worked only briefly during his teenage years. I met him once when he was about fifteen at a party that Olin threw in Scottsdale. Even back then, he was an exact replica of his father. Ethan had the same hair, same eyes, same swaggering gait and sharp tongue. Even though his eyes and cheeks were sunken from years of hardcore drug abuse, it was those evil eyes, which were exact duplicates of his father’s that gave his identity away.
He wasn’t a very large man, actually even smaller it seemed than how I remembered him. But his size really didn’t matter since I was a hobbled sheep, awaiting its slaughter.
“Ethan. To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit? Not that I’m really up for visitors, though. Perhaps you should make an appointment with my office when I am feeling better. As you can see, I’m not up to practicing law at the moment,” I said, my eyes locking with his as he made his way into my room, his drug addled body still exhibiting that same, smug walk.
“I came here to offer you a proposition I don’t believe you will be able to refuse,” Ethan replied, his words deliberate and slow, like he was talking to a child. I felt the strange urge to laugh at his pathetic attempt to match Marlon Brando’s voice in The Godfather. He was standing directly in front of me and I could smell the stench exuding from him. The room was full of that sickening, stagnant mixture of body odor and unwashed clothes that permeated every crevice in drug addicts. It was a smell in which I came in contact years before in my short stint as a public defender, and once you smelled it, you never forgot it.
“Well, if I can’t refuse it, then it really isn’t an offer, is it? Sounds more like an edict to me.”
His eerily familiar eyes narrowed, and he leaned in closer to me, his rank breath making my eyes water.
“Call it whatever floats your boat, asshole. It doesn’t really matter. What matters is that I get what I came here for, and to inform you that you work for me.”
I knew his fucked up plan wasn’t going to end well for me, for God only knows what the crazed fool in front of me had up his sleeve, but I couldn’t show weakness or back down.
“Well, Ethan, what sort of trouble did you get yourself into again that you believe you need a three hundred and fifty dollar an hour lawyer for, rather than a public defender? Wait, let me guess—drugs?”
His grimy hand appeared in front of my face, and I forced myself not to blink or cringe, but my eyes widened with shock when I realized that what he was holding in front of me was the tape recorder that had been in Trevor’s pocket.
“Yeah, drugs, motherfucker. I need more, and dear ol’ dad didn’t leave me any money to buy any. And I don’t recall saying anything about paying you for your services. I believe, once you hear my ideas, that you will be more than willing to work, oh, what is that term called? Pro bono?”
Here it comes…steady…
I tried to push the wheelchair back and regain some personal space, but I was rather handicapped since I could only use one arm. Ethan’s sickening laughter filled the small room with his foul breath.
“Oh, I’m sorry, Nick. Am I crowding your personal space? Here, let me sit down and let’s discuss what I need from you like gentlemen. How’s that?” Thankfully, he moved away from me and plopped down in the seat across the room.
I couldn’t hide the sarcasm from my voice.
“Gentlemen? Well, there’s a term I am sure hasn’t been associated with you—or your father for that matter—ever.”
I expected him to become angry over my dig at his dad, but he just cackled more.
“Ha, no, I suppose you are right. My father, who I prefer to call my sperm donor, was nothing remotely close to a gentleman. He was an evil, vulgar bastard, and I am thankful, believe it or not, that you killed him.
Oh, shit. How did he know that?
“Don’t look so surprised, Nick. Yes, I know you killed him. Well, technically, you just beat the crap out of him then let those other two behemoths bury him alive. I must say, you sure went to a lot of trouble to end his life, even taking a beating yourself! It was a great plan, though, especially the nice touch of having your helpers masked. It’s just your misfortune that they were all muscle and no brains. Snagging this recording was as easy as swiping money from my mom’s wallet. Stealing from a drunk has always been a specialty of mine,” he said, waving the tape recorder in his hands.
The realization that I was about to be blackmailed by another Kemper yet again ignited a dark fury inside of me, and I felt myself spinning out of control. The irony almost made me laugh. Jesus, evil never died. It just moved to another body.
“So, how much is it going to take, Ethan? You realize I can’t access any money from here. It will have to wait until I get back to Phoenix.”
“Oh, silly Nick. Don’t worry. I don’t want your money. I know you are a high priced legal eagle and all, but I doubt you have the amount I am looking for. I want his money. All of it.”
His response caught me completely off guard. What the hell did he mean? I didn’t have access to Olin’s money. The confusion must have shown on my face because he leaned forward and laid out his scheme.
“I have searched everywhere but can’t seem to locate his will. So, you will make one, dating it back, oh, let’s say, ten years ago? Yeah, that was right around the time before I started using, back when he actually would claim me as his son. And it will leave everything to me, including all of those fun toys he bought over the years. You can leave the houses to my mother because I don’t want them since I plan on travelling around the world. She deserves something for all the years she put up with his bullshit.”
So, it was cold, hard cash he was after from Olin’s estate. For a brief moment, I felt relief wash over me when it became clear he didn’t want money from me, but the enormity of his request then set in. How in the hell could I pull it off? I would have to involve other people as well, since wills had to be witnessed by at least two others, and Olin’s signature witnessed by a notary, which was im
possible given the fact that he was dead. My God, not only would I lose my license if I was ever caught forging a will, but I could face jail time.
“You look a tad perplexed, Nick. Worried that you can’t create some fake document? Well, no need. I have faith in you. The legal ramifications of forging a will are much less than facing, oh, what is the legal term? Accessory to murder? Yeah, that’s it. Accessory to murder.”
Stunned into silence, I just sat in the wheelchair and stared at him, afraid to open my mouth and speak. The little twerp had me right where he wanted. Not only did he have the tape, but somehow, he knew what happened that night. Did Trevor betray me and start talking at the bar after too many drinks?
“Oh, and just in case you are wondering, this little treasure isn’t the only interesting piece of information I have. I also have a great video of your Sunday night excursion. Granted, it is rather grainy and dark, but there are a few times when your face is plain, just as clear as if I shot the footage during the day. The moonlight did a great job of illuminating it. Oh, and one other little gem: I have the tape of you and that Winscott dude. Found that little gold nugget while searching for the will. I gotta tell you, watching that was worse than watching you kill my dad. Yuck.”
I felt the room begin to spin, and my stomach lurched in protest. I had to be dreaming, just had to be.
“You little bastard,” I hissed.
Ethan stood up and smiled, waving his finger in my face.
“Now, now, Nick. No need to get ugly. See, I told you, it was an offer that I knew you couldn’t refuse. I will cut you some slack since you are still in the hospital and give you one week to deliver it to me. If I don’t have the keys to the family fortune by midnight next Tuesday, you won’t need to worry about anything, except protecting your asshole in prison.
“I will be in touch. Oh, and Nick, don’t try to slime your way out of this. I may have lost a few brain cells from my addiction to coke, but I have enough left to know how to ruin you. One word to anyone, or if the will isn’t in my hands by Tuesday, all this goes public. I had fun copying all this evidence, and it is set to hit the Internet at 12:01 a.m. Wednesday morning. Of course, all it will take is one little click to send it earlier, so don’t fuck with me. I am, after all, my father’s son.”
Eviscerating the Snake - The Complete Trilogy Page 44
