by The Web(Lit)
"So he suppressed the vision and began hallucinating at night?"
"It began as nightmares. He'd wake up screaming, see the Tutalo in his room."
"Could the original sighting have taken place as he slept?" I said.
"Could he have dozed off on the job and made up the vision to cover up?"
"I wondered about that, but of course he denied it. I also wondered if he'd fallen off his ladder and hurt his head, but there were no bruises or swellings anywhere on his body."
Was he an alcoholic?"
"He wasn't a raving drunk but he did like his spirits."
"Could the visions have been alcohol poisoning?"
"It's a possibility."
"Bill, exactly how endemic is alcoholism on Aruk?"
He blinked and removed his glasses.
"In the past it was a serious problem. We've worked hard at education."
"Who's we?"
"Ben and myself, which is why what's happened tonight is madness, Alex! You must help him!"
"What would you like me to do?"
"Speak to Dennis. Let him know Ben couldn't have done it, that he simply doesn't fit the profile of a psychopathic killer."
"Why would Dennis listen to me?"
"I don't know that he would, but we must try ever thing Your training and experience will give you credibility. Dennis respects psychology, majored in it in junior college."
"What profile don't you think Ben fits?"
"The FBI's two forms of lust-killer: he's neither the disorganized, low-intellect spree-murderer nor the calculating, sadistic psychopath."
The FBI had earned a lot of TV time with patterns of serial killers obtained from interviews with psychopaths careless enough to get caught. But psychopaths lied for the fun of it, and profiles rarely if ever led to the discovery of a killer, occasionally confirming what police scutwork and luck had already accomplished. Profiles had been responsible for some serious fallacies: Serial killers never murdered across races. Till they did. Women couldn't be serial killers. Till they were.
People weren't computer chips. People had the uncanny ability to surprise.
But even if I'd had more faith in the orderly nature of evil, Ben wouldn't have been easily acquitted.
Right after Lyman Picker's death, Robin and I had discussed the hardness of his personality, and I recalled the cold, impersonal way he'd jabbed needles into the arms of the schoolchildren.
Family history of alcoholism.
Rough childhood, probably abuse from the 'ugly drunk' father.
A certain rigidity. Tight control.
Outwardly controlled men sometimes lost it when under the influence of booze or drugs. A high percentage of serial killers committed their crimes buoyed by intoxication.
"I'll talk to him," I said.
"But I doubt it'll do any good."
"Talk to Ben, too. Try to make some sense of this. I'm shackled, son."
"If I'm to succeed with Dennis, I need to be impartial, not Ben's advocate."
He blinked some more.
"Yes, that makes sense. Dennis is rational and honest. If he responds to anything it'll be the rational approach."
"Rational and honest," I said, 'but you don't want him dating your daughter."
It had slipped out like loose change.
He recoiled. Sank heavily into the desk chair. When he finally spoke, it was in a low, resigned voice:
"So you despise me."
"No, Bill, but I can't say I understand you. The longer I stay here, the more inconsistent things seem."
He smiled feebly.
"Do they?"
"four love for the island and its people seems so strong. Yet you tongue-lash Pam for hanging around Dennis. Not that it's my business you've devoted your life to Aruk and I'm just a visitor."
He folded his arms across his chest and rubbed the sweat from his forehead.
"I know that this situation with Ben is terrible for you," I said, 'but if I'm to stay here I need to know a few things."
Looking away, he said, What else troubles you, son?"
"The fact that Aruk's so cut off from the outside world. That more of your energies haven't been spent opening it up. You say there's hope, but you don't act hopeful. I agree with you that TV's mostly garbage, but how can the people ever develop when their access to information is so limited? They can't even get mail on a regular basis. It's solitary confinement on a cultural level."
His hands started to shake again and spots of color made his cheeks shine.
"Forget it," I said.
"No, no, go on."
"Do you want to respond to what I just said?"
"The people have books. There's a small library in the church."
"When's the last time new books came in?"
He used a fingernail to scrape something off the desk top.
"What do you suggest?"
"More frequent shipping schedules. The leeward harbor's too narrow for big craft but couldn't the supply boats sail more often?
And if the Navy won't allow planes to land on Stanton, why not build an airfield on the west side? If Amalfi won't cooperate, use some of your land."
"And how is all this to be financed?"
"Your personal finances are none of my business, either, but I've heard you're very wealthy."
"Who told you that?"
"Creedman."
His laugh was shrill.
"Do you know what Creedman really does for a living?"
"He's not a journalist?"
"He's worked for a few minor papers, done some cable television work. But for the last several years he's written quarterly reports for corporations. His last client was Stasher-Layman. Have you heard of them?"
"No."
"Big construction outfit, based in Texas. Builders of government housing and other tax-financed projects. They put up ticky-tack boxes, sell the management contract for high profits, and walk away. Instant slum. Creedman's scribblings for them made them sound like saints. If I hadn't thrown the reports out, I'd show them to you."
"You researched him?"
"After we caught him snooping I thought it prudent."
"Okay," I said.
"So he's a corporate hack. Is he wrong about your wealth?"
He pulled on a long, pale finger till it cracked. Righted his glasses. Brushed nonexistent dust from the desk.
"I won't tell you I'm poor, but family fortunes recede unless the heirs are talented in business. I'm not. Which means I'm in no position to build airports or lease entire fleets of boats. I'm doing all I can."
"Okay," I said.
"Sorry for bringing it up, then."
"No apology necessary. You're a passionate young man. Passionate but focused. It's rare when the two go hand in hand: "I may not hope from outward forms to win the passion and the life, whose fountains are within" Coleridge said that. Another great thinker; even narcotics didn't still his genius... Your passion even comes through your scientific writing, son. That's why I asked you to join me."
"And here I thought it was my experience with police cases."
He sat back and let out another shrill laugh.
"Passionate and observant. Yes, your experience with criminal behavior was a bonus because to me it means you have a strict sense of right and wrong. I admire your sense of justice."
"What does justice have to do with analyzing medical charts?"
"I was speaking in an abstract sense doing things ethically."
"Are you sure that's it?"
"What do you mean?"
"Has the cannibal murder remained on your mind, Bill? Have you been more worried about recurrence than you let on? Because if that's it, you're going to be disappointed. I've gotten involved in a few bloody things, mostly because of my friendship with Milo Sturgis. But he's the detective, not me."
He took time to answer. Staring at his wife's watercolors.
Twisting his fingers as if they were knitting needles.
Worry's
too strong a word, son. Let's just say the possibility of recurrence has remained in the back of my mind. Anne Marie murder was my first real brush with this kind of thing, so I read up on it and learned that recurrence is the norm, not the exception. When I learned you had some experience with murder in addition to your scholarly achievements, I felt a great sense of. appropriateness."
"How similar is Betty's murder to Anne Marie Valdos's?"
"Dennis claims there are... similarities."
"Was Betty cannibalized?"
"Not..." He tapped the desk. The flutter of wings outside a window made us both start. Nightbirds or bats.
"Not yet," he said.
"Nothing was missing. She was..." He shook his head.
"Decapitated and eviscerated, but nothing had been taken."
"What about the long bones?"
"One leg was broken hacked but not severed."
"What kind of knife was used?"
He didn't reply.
Bill?"
"Knives," he said miserably.
"A set of surgical tools were found there."
"Ben's?"
Headshake.
Tours?"
"An old set I'd once owned."
"Did you give it to Ben?"
"No. It was kept here in the lab. In a drawer of this desk."
Where Ben had easy access."
He nodded, almost crying.
"But you must believe me, Ben would never take anything without permission. Never! I know it sounds bad for him, but please believe me."
Anne Marie had a drinking problem," I said.
"You implied Betty did too."
"Did I?"
"Back in the house you said she used to smoke and... Then you trailed off and said she'd been taking excellent care of herself during her pregnancy."
"The poor thing's dead. Why besmirch her memory?"
"Because it may be relevant. She's beyond hurt, Bill. Was she an alcoholic?"
"No, not an alcoholic. She was a... friendly girl. She smoked and drank a bit."
"What does friendly have to do with it?"
"Friendly," he said.
"To the sailors."
"Like Anne Marie One of those girls who went up to Victory Park. Was it common knowledge in the village?"
"I don't know what's common knowledge. I heard it from her mother."
"Her mother complained about Betty's promiscuity?"
"Ida brought Betty in to be treated for a vener al infection."
"Gonorrhea?"
He nodded.
When?"
"A year ago. Before she became engaged. We kept it confidential from Mauricio her boyfriend. Tested him, too, under a false pretense. Negative. Eventually they married.
"Maybe he found out anyway and reacted."
"This? No, not Mauricio. What was done to her was beyond. no, no, impossible. Mauricio's not a... calculating sort. He'd never have thought to incriminate Ben."
TSIot smart enough?"
"He's simple. As was Betty."
I remembered Betty's open manner and easy smile. Trusting me enough after meeting me to talk about herself. No bra under the tank top...
"Simple and trusting," I said.
"A drinker, overly friendly with the boys. Sounds like a perfect victim. What was Ben's relationship with her?"
"They knew each other the way everyone on the island knows each other."
"Did Ben know about her gonorrhea?"
He thought.
"I didn't discuss it with him."
"But he could have found out read it in the chart."
"Ben was busy enough without sticking his nose where it didn't belong."
"Maybe he came across it by accident. We both know you're not a compulsive filer."
No answer. He got up and paced, twisting his fingers again, bobbing his neck.
I said, "Learning that, he could have assumed she was easy."
"I didn't record the diagnosis in my notes. I made sure to protect her."
"What did you write?"
"Just that she had an infection that required penicillin."
"Someone with Ben's medical sophistication could have figured it out, Bill. And what about the lab tests? Did you destroy the results?"
"I don't believe so... but still it's not possible. Not Ben.
Why are you thinking in these terms?"
"Because I have an open mind. If that upsets you, we can end the discussion."
He gritted his teeth.
"This isn't the last time I'll be hearing these kinds of speculations. I might as well get used to it. Let's assume for the sake of argument that Ben did know she'd been infected.
Why in the world would he murder her?"
"As I said, it could have led him to believe she was easy.
One scenario is that they'd had a relationship for a while, or even that last night was a one-night stand. In either case, they went up to the park, got drunk, and things got out of hand."
"That's ridiculous! You saw him with Claire tonight. He loves her, they've got so much going the children."
"Lots of psychopaths lead double lives."
"No! Not Ben! And he's not a psychopath. He didn't kill Anne Marie and he didn't kill Betty!"
"Does he have an alibi for Anne Marie murder?"
"He was never asked to present one. But I remember the way he reacted to the murder. Utterly revolted.
"Did you tell him Anne Marie had been cannibalized?"
"No! Only Dennis and I knew. And now you."
"But once again, Ben had access to the information. And Dennis knows Anne Marie murder file is here. So even if Ben does develop an alibi for the first murder, Dennis may suspect he read up on the case and pulled a copycat. To disguise murdering Betty."
"He's not a premeditated killer! This whole line of reasoning is spurious!"
"No one else knew about Anne Marie wounds."
"The killer knew a killer who isn't Ben."
"What about the fishermen who found Anne Marie body?"
"Alonzo Rubino and Saul Saentz," he said. They're even older than I. Saul's downright frail. And they didn't know the details."
"Leaving only Ben, who might have."
"You were at dinner tonight, son. Was that the demeanor of a cannibal butcher? Do you mean to tell me he drove Claire home, tucked her in bed, and left to commit murder?"
"He was in the park. What's his explanation for that?"
"Dennis hasn't interrogated him. Refuses to until there's an attorney present."
"Ben's still free to offer an explanation. Has he?"
He paused.
"After Dennis and I had words, he was less than forthcoming."
"When will Ben have an attorney?"
"Dennis has wired to Saipan for a court-appointed lawyer."
There are no lawyers on the island?"
"No. Until now that's been a plus."
"How long will it take for the appointee to get over?"
"The next boat's due in five days. If the base allows a plane to land, it could be sooner."
"Why would the base cooperate all of a sudden?"
"Because this is just what they want. Another nail in Aruk's coffin." He made a fist and regarded it as if it belonged on someone else's arm. The fingers opened slowly. The bandage on his hand was soiled.
"Why is the Navy waging war on the island, Bill?"
"The Navy's a branch of the government, and the government wants to rid itself of responsibility. Ben's arrest is yet another reason to abandon ship: murderous savages. Cannibals, no less.
And if the fiend who murdered Anne Marie was a Navy man, he's now off the hook, so Ewing's got a vested interest in having Ben prosecuted."
