“It would have been weirder if I hadn’t come,” he argued. “Working for you folks the way I do and all. Besides, a guilty man would never come right back here and do that. At least, that’s how I figured it.”
“You figured it right,” I acknowledged. “It never occurred to me it could be you. Especially after Tyler got himself strangled in his dorm room at Columbia the next morning. I’d spoken to you myself that very morning. You’d phoned me to say you wouldn’t be showing up for work. You thought we’d want to be alone for the day, was what you said. Naturally, I assumed you were at home when you called me. You even yelled out something to your mom, something about how you’d be right with her. Exceedingly clever, Dwayne. Because the truth is you weren’t at home when you called. You were phoning me from Tyler Kampmann’s dorm room, where he lay dead on the floor right next to you after you strangled him. You’re smart, Dwayne. Smart enough to throw off suspicion by calling me that way. Smart enough to pretend to be Tyler when his neighbor pounded on the door on his way to a nine o’clock French class. You groaned something to him through the door about you weren’t feeling well—which has to be the understatement of the year. And the neighbor bought it. He and Tyler had been out celebrating the night before. And he assumed the voice he heard was Tyler’s. It didn’t occur to him it was someone else’s—that wouldn’t occur to anyone. In fact, Tyler had already been dead for an hour, which explains the discrepancy between the coroner’s estimated time, of death and the time when the neighbor said he spoke to him. Must have been real cozy, you and Tyler together there in that tiny room all that time.”
“I had no choice,” Dwayne insisted. “I couldn’t come out until everyone on the floor had gone to breakfast or class or whatever. Couldn’t take a chance of someone spotting me.” He sniffled. “I read some of his books. He had all kinds. History, art, philosophy …”
Lightning crackled across Whalebone Cove. He turned his face to the windows. It was an angry face at that moment. A proud face. I had never seen it proud before. But then, I’d never really known Dwayne before. Not really. I’d thought he was a good kid who’d had some bad breaks. But there was more to Dwayne Gobble than that. A lot more. And none of it was good.
Thunder rumbled, shaking the house down to its stone foundation. The wind and cold rain tore at the casement windows.
“How did you get in the dorm, by the way?”
“By looking like any other student,” Dwayne replied, sneering at me. “I’m the right age, I dress right—I just flashed the guard down in the lobby my fucking driver’s license, man, and he let me right on through. He didn’t give a fuck. Must have been the end of his shift or something. It was early in the morning, not even seven.”
“And Tyler let you into his room?”
“He was half asleep. Thought I was one of his friends.”
“Smart, Dwayne. Real smart. Me, I was real stupid. I figured Tyler died because of what Clethra had told him about her previous love life. Before she met him, I mean.”
Dwayne stiffened, his eyes narrowing to icy slits. “What previous love life?” he demanded, moving closer to me. Him and the big knife both.
“It did occur to me, of course, that the killer might be Clethra herself. I remembered how the phone was back on the hook when I returned from my walk that night she and I were alone together. I’d left it off the hook when I went out. Clearly, she’d used it. Only, who had she called? Had she called Tyler? Had she called Arvin?”
“She called me.” Dwayne thumped his chest with a clenched fist. “She called to tell me how bummed she was about everything and to ask me when she’d see me again. She called me.” He stood there glowering at me. “What previous love life?”
“Oh, that. Something rather damaging, actually, involving Clethra and another guy. She’d made the mistake of telling Tyler about it once, and it was reasonable to assume that if Tyler was willing to peddle her video striptease he’d be more than willing to peddle her deepest, darkest secret. I figured that was why he died—so the secret would die with him. Only, once again, I was wrong.”
“What other guy?!” Dwayne raged. “Who?”
“That’s not important.”
“The fuck it’s not! I want to know who it is. Tell me, damn it!” His teeth were clamped tightly together now, his jaw tensed. “You just better tell me.”
“You want all of her, don’t you, Dwayne? Even her past. Well, I’m sorry. It doesn’t work that way—no matter how badly you want it to. And, let’s face it, you want it plenty badly … That same night you overheard Clethra telling me about her and Thor you also heard her tell me who peddled the videotape. You heard all about Tyler—how he was her first boyfriend, how he used to dick her friends behind her back, lie to her—”
“He was a scumbag,” Dwayne snarled. “Dragged her through the mud for money. Shat all over her. And he didn’t even fucking care about her. Not a lick. I-I couldn’t let that happen. I couldn’t let him get away with treating Clethra that way. Not Clethra. The scumbag had to pay. Had to.”
“So you made him pay.”
“That’s right,” Dwayne affirmed eagerly. He was anxious to tell me about it. He was proud. “I drove into New York in the middle of the night, after Mom went to sleep. I knew where he lived. She told you the name of his dorm. I confronted him, face to face, like a man. Told him I didn’t like what he was dealing her, y’know? The scumbag couldn’t even figure out what my problem was. He had no regrets. He … He deserved to die. He corrupted her. He dirtied her. He hurt her.” Dwayne was panting, his chest rising and falling as if from a great exertion. “After I did him, I phoned you so you’d think I was home, like you said. Figured as long as you were vouching for me everything would be cool.”
“Which, again, was smart of you, Dwayne. But only half smart. Because that was also your one mistake. Damned big one, too. You made a long-distance call, Dwayne. They keep records of those. Lieutenant Very just checked them. Someone used Tyler’s phone at 8:41 A.M. the day of his death to call this number. And that someone was you, Dwayne. Had to be you. Because Tyler was already dead.”
“I didn’t want to call from there,” he admitted grudgingly. “But I couldn’t leave the room for at least another hour. And you’d be expecting me for work if I didn’t call ya. So I took a chance.”
“You blew it, Dwayne. You’re toast. They’re on to you now.”
“I could give a fuck,” he boasted, tongue flicking at his lips. “I’m out of here tonight, man. And where I’m headed they’ll never, ever find me.”
“May I finish my story before you go? Or do you have to run right away?”
He seemed distracted now. For a moment, I thought he hadn’t heard me. But then he shuddered and nodded for me to go ahead.
I went ahead. “When I got back from the city this afternoon you and Clethra were working on the barn together, talking over her plans for the future. You gave me the impression she was still pretty undecided about where she’d end up. But that wasn’t the case at all, was it? She’d decided precisely what she wanted to do. Go back to Ruth. Back to the life she’d known before this whole crazy thing with Thor went down. She told you she wanted to go home to her mother, didn’t she, Dwayne?”
“What she said,” he replied testily, “was she needed to get normal for a while.”
“Which has to rank as our runner-up for the understatement of the year,” I said. “You freaked out when she told you this, didn’t you? Because this was goodbye. You were going to lose her. After everything you’d done for her, you were going to lose her to her old life. And you couldn’t stand that, could you? No way. A man has to take what he wants, right? Which left you with only one choice—do away with her old life. Erase that mother. Erase that home. Make her yours, all yours. You’d already killed twice for her. It wasn’t too hard to kill a third time. You knew when Ruth and the others were going to arrive. Clethra told you. You parked your truck in the woods near Barry’s place, hiked to the house and waited
out there for your chance at her. All you needed was a minute. Just one minute. Only it didn’t look too promising, did it? You must have figured … well, what did you figure when you saw Munger pull up?”
“I figured,” he confessed, “no way.”
“But then Barry and Marco went out to the store,” I continued. “And you got lucky. And Ruth got real, real unlucky. She decided to stretch her legs. You followed her. Followed her and killed her with a hatchet you had in your truck. You murdered her while the detective in charge of the case was sitting right there in the house. That’s bold, Dwayne. Mighty bold. You took off in your truck just before we got there. Tidied yourself up. Picked up a pizza, as planned, and hightailed up here to see Clethra. You had pizza and beer with her. You kissed her and you fondled her breasts—all the while knowing you’d hacked her mother to death just minutes before. That’s not love, Dwayne. That’s just plain sick. At least that’s what I told her.”
Dwayne frowned at me, perplexed. “You told who?”
“Your mom.”
He swallowed. “Wait, you spoke to my mom?” he demanded, his eyes widening. Dumb he wasn’t. Brains were never Dwayne Gobble’s problem.
“Tonight,” I confirmed. “We had a nice talk on the phone. You were right to count on her, Dwayne. As your alibi, I mean. Strongest bond there is, a mother’s love for her child. She’d do anything for him. Even lie to protect him if she had to. Not that the truth ever actually occurred to her. Not that she could in a million years think that her own son would coldly and systematically murder three human beings. Like I said, you were right to count on her love. Mothers always protect their young. But what you didn’t count on, Dwayne, was how her love could be turned right around on you. I told her what you’d done, Dwayne. I told her we had proof it was you. I told her you were a sick, sick boy. And that you need help. And that if she loved you she’d help us make sure you got that help. She wept for you, Dwayne. Uncontrollably. It was one of the saddest things I’ve ever heard in my life, the way she wept for you. And then she told me the truth—that you hadn’t been helping her around the house when Thor was murdered. That you hadn’t been home the morning Tyler died either. She had no idea where you were that morning. Your bed hadn’t even been slept in. She was worried about you. She was afraid you were out on the streets of New Haven buying drugs. She didn’t know. Poor woman had no idea just how sick you really are.”
“God, I wish you’d stop fucking saying that!” Dwayne cried. “I ain’t sick! You of all people should know that. You were a friend of his, man. I-I wanted something better for myself in this world. I found it. I found her. A man takes what he wants when he sees it. I’m taking it, man. So what if people think I done something wrong? That don’t make any of you or your stupid laws right. Man is an outlaw. All of our heroes are outlaws. Robin Hood was an outlaw. Zorro was an outlaw. Jesse James was an outlaw. Any man who’s true to his wild self, any man who gives a shit about anything, is an outlaw. When people are coming after you, pissed off at you, ready to string you up … Christ, that’s how you know you’re doing something right.”
“Killing people is not something right, Dwayne,” I shot back. “I knew Thor, like you said. And he valued human life. He didn’t believe in destroying it. That’s not what he was saying. You’ve got it wrong. All wrong.”
Dwayne stared down at the knife in his hand for a moment, then slowly raised his gaze to me. “I’m sorry this had to happen, Mr. H. On account of I respect you. You been decent to me. Didn’t ever talk down to me or anything. But you’ve put yourself between me and Clethra. And I can’t allow anyone to do that to me.”
“So I’ve noticed. What happens now?”
“What, you mean after I kill you?”
“If you say so.”
Lulu let out a mournful yowl from the rocker. She did care after all.
Dwayne tugged at his goatee, grinning at me. “We take off for Mexico, just we two. Live off the land. Live the life of desperadoes.”
“What if she says no?”
“She won’t. She just won’t. She loves me same as I love her. I know it.”
“If you know it then what are you doing here?”
Dwayne furrowed his brow at this. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I hate to be the one to break it to you, Dwayne, but this isn’t how it works when two people are genuinely in love. When someone loves you back then you don’t need to kill her current boyfriend, her ex-boyfriend and her mother as a token of your undying affection. None of that happens when there’s love, Dwayne. There’s trust when there’s love. There’s commitment. Clethra Feingold played around in the backseat with you for a while, but she doesn’t love you. She barely even knows you.”
“Man, you are so wrong. She loves me like she’s never loved anyone. And she’s gonna run off with me and you’re gonna be dead and ain’t nobody gonna be the wiser.”
“Check, dude, I’m down to that. But school me, there’s still one thing I can’t conceptualize.”
It was Detective Lieutenant Romaine Very who said this. I don’t generally use words like conceptualize. At least I try not to.
He stood directly behind Dwayne in the bedroom doorway, his gun pointed right between the kid’s shoulder-blades. Evidently he’d decided it was time to vacate his post next door in the nursery. The storm had covered the sound of his footsteps.
Lulu snarfled excitedly at the lieutenant. She’s always happy to see Very, especially when he has a loaded gun. I don’t possess one, loaded or otherwise, and I think it’s a source of great disappointment for her.
“Only one thing, Lieutenant?” I asked him.
“Yo, couldn’t you tell it was a long-distance call? When he phoned you from New York, I mean.”
Dwayne, he just stood there, frozen.
“Not at all,” I replied. “It sounded no different than a local call. The connection was perfect.”
“Hmm. Wonder who it was.”
“Who what was, Lieutenant?”
Dwayne’s eyes were darting wildly around the room now, searching for an escape.
“Dig, I’m shopping for a new long-distance company. I dropped my old one on account of first they fucked with my bill, and then they copped a ’tude when I questioned ’em on it. Which is cool. The old me woulda gotten into a big blowout with ’em. New me just chills and goes shopping. Real progress, huh?”
“I’d certainly say so, Lieutenant.”
Very turned his attention back to Dwayne, not that it had every really left him. “Drop the knife, putz.”
Dwayne clutched it even tighter. “You got nothing on me,” he insisted, an ugly sneer crossing his face. “No proof. No nothing.”
I reached down under the bed. “Except for this, Dwayne,” I informed him, pulling out my tape recorder. It whirred softly, still recording every word we said. “Your full confession, in your own words. If you’re real nice to me I’ll let you have a copy. You can sell it to one of the tabloid shows to pay for your defense. Not that you’ve got a prayer.”
“Drop it, Gobble.” Very nudged him in the spine with the nose of his gun.
But Dwayne had something else in mind.
The windows—the old casements that overlooked the herb garden. And were presently shut tight against the rain.
He dove for them. He dove through them, headfirst, shattering the glass and the brittle old wood before he went hurtling out into the wet and windy night and crashed to the ground below, Very firing off two quick shots. One clipped him on the shoulder.
The boxwood hedge that edged the garden broke his fall. He scrambled to his feet, bloodied but unshaken, and made a mad dash for the driveway, still clutching the knife.
He never saw Slawski, who was stationed in the shadows of the carriage barn next to his cruiser. The resident trooper issued a one-word command. And then Klaus went streaking off down the driveway after Dwayne Gobble, a ferocious growl coming from his throat. Slawski hit the cruiser’s lights just in time
for us to see Klaus leave his feet. That dog flew—and I do mean flew—at least twenty feet through the air before he tackled Dwayne hard to the ground, pinning him there like a squirming pancake, his jaws clamped tightly around Dwayne’s leg.
It was the single greatest open field tackle I’d ever seen. I just stood there in front of the shattered windows, gaping. Lulu was positively goggle-eyed.
The commotion woke Clethra, who came padding out of the chapel in a flannel shirt and nothing else, wondering what the hell was going on. Slawski told her.
Me, I was still staring. “Well, that settles that, Lieutenant. My last unanswered question.”
Very frowned at me. “Which unanswered question’s that, dude?”
“I finally found out what Klaus does.”
Twelve
THEY KEPT DWAYNE IN Lawrence and Memorial Hospital in New London for three days. He was treated there for the gunshot wound to his shoulder as well as several rather nasty dog bites. When he was well enough to be discharged he was arraigned in New London County Court and charged with the murders of Thor Gibbs and Ruth Feingold, not to mention the attempted murder of Stewart Hoag, onetime literary luminary. He would be tried separately in Manhattan for the murder of Tyler Kampmann.
Naturally, the press was all over it. They were especially hot for the real inside story of how Dwayne was brought down. Hard to blame them, considering that the man who’d been spearheading the investigation, Lieutenant Chick Munger of the Connecticut State Police Major Crime Squad, was home in bed with his wife at the time of the arrest. And was a bit fuzzy himself on the details. So, for the record, here’s the real inside story. And remember, you read it here first:
Detective Lieutenant Romaine Very of the New York Police Department happened to be at the scene of the attempted murder because he was my house guest for the night. Very heard a commotion in my bedroom. Thinking that perhaps it was a break-in, he approached the scene with his firearm drawn and attempted to apprehend the suspect. Tyrone “Cole” Slawski, Lyme’s resident trooper, was cruising down Joshua Town Road on routine patrol when he heard shots being fired. Slawski immediately rushed to the scene and, with the assistance of a member of the state police’s K-9 corps, was able to subdue the suspect and take him into custody.
The Girl Who Ran Off With Daddy Page 25
