“Well, you’ve sure got a good memory.” He patted his gut. “Been a lot of years. As you can see, I’m not in shape like I used to be.”
“Can’t say I ever saw you fight,” I admitted, “but I heard you were pretty good. Almost got a title shot, didn’t you?”
“Yeah, but when I finally fought somebody who knew what they were doing, I realized there’s a big difference between pretty good, and really good.” His voice held no bitterness, just matter-of-fact. He chuckled. “I realized when I came to that I was in the wrong profession.”
“So what’s your profession now.”
“Well, I bought a boat with a buddy of mine — he’s since passed away — and we did salvage work. I still keep my hand in, but I’m mostly retired now.” He squeezed Jeanette’s shoulder and lowered his voice as he said, “There’s better money in this male escort work, truth be told.”
I had to smile. Jeanette rolled her eyes, but before she took off down the little jetty toward the poolside I noticed she reached out her hand to squeeze his.
“I got an old buddy lives down the inlet. Jeanette said she’d be a while, so thought I’d float her on down there and have a few beers, shoot the breeze. She can call me when she’s ready to be picked up.”
“Alright,” I said. “Glad I got to meet you. She’s something special, but I guess you already know that.”
He smiled and nodded. Just a big old teddy bear. A teddy bear with a crushing right hand, from what I could recall. His hands were like baseball mitts.
He said, “Been a long time since I met a woman of her caliber. I almost married a girl just as swell” — he actually used the word, swell — “maybe twenty years ago. But I was young and after a title shot, the great white hope and all, and I let her get away. Like to think I’m smarter now, but I expect you’d get some arguments there from a few who know me.”
“No reason a man can’t get lucky a second time,” I mused, thinking about a girl I’d loved and lost to heroin a lifetime ago, and Caroline.
“Nope, I guess there ain’t.” He stared over my shoulder — he was tall as well as broad — and I turned to see Caroline and Laura carrying food out to the poolside table where Jeanette sat.
“Wow, that gal’s as pretty as she is on TV. Maybe prettier.”
“She appears to be just as nice as well.”
“Hard to believe, but I’ll take your word for it. Well, I’m off. Enjoy your breakfast.”
He jumped aboard and I threw the line back on deck. He was already pulling away as I joined the girls.
Introductions had already been made so we sat down to eat. Bacon and scrambled eggs with grated cheese, toast and jam, some watermelon and cantaloupe sliced into small squares, and of course, orange juice. Laura was the spokesperson for Florida’s oranges, after all.
Though she encouraged us to dig in, I noticed a small bowing of her head and closing of the eyes as we filled our plates. It only lasted a moment but spoke volumes about her. The belief she encouraged in her show was real, but she wasn’t one of these pious people who flaunt it in your face.
The view was beautiful from Laura’s home. We talked of Florida and oranges and television and life in Boca Raton while we ate. The conversation, the questions and reminisces were genuine, but they were also a bridge Laura was building so that by the time we listened to the tape, she would not be listening with strangers, but with acquaintances. Possibly even friends.
Once we had all finished eating, and profuse thanks had been given to the host, the tape became like the elephant in the room, except we were outdoors. It was Laura who finally broached the subject.
“Should we go inside to listen?”
“I think it would be for the best,” said Jeanette, “though it is so lovely out here one hates to abandon it.”
“Star Island isn’t so shabby either,” responded Laura with a smile.
“It certainly isn’t. I don’t leave it much, but if you’re going to live some place that you don’t leave much, Star Island is as good as any.”
Laura took a deep breath and let it out slowly. I felt bad for this nice, lovely woman. It wasn’t fair that the first time she heard her sister’s voice in a decade, would be on a tape chronicling the tortured life of Holly Carmichael.
Seventeen
We followed Laura into a room filled with light coming through those big windows facing the inlet. The walls were eggshell white and the furniture either sea blue or a soft yellow. Cheerful paintings of the water and boats, a lighthouse standing tall on a sunny day, and one large photo of Laura and her cast and crew, smiling for the camera in a way which didn’t look fake, lent atmosphere to the room. There appeared to be no television, but a large bookcase was full. Paperbacks mostly, nearly all of them mysteries, from what I could see at a glance. Jeanette noticed them too, and smiled. No one loved a good mystery more than Jeanette.
Photographs filled the few and far between empty spots on the book shelves. One photo in particular caught my eye. Laura caught me staring at it and reached for it. She handed it to me.
“I was almost a teenager. Susan was a few years older. This was taken in the park near where we lived. We were separated shortly after this.”
The girls were night and day. Light hair, dark hair, blue eyes, brown eyes. Both very pretty young girls, but in entirely different ways. Laura must have guessed what I was thinking.
“We shared the same father, but different mothers.”
“You both look so happy,” said Caroline, who had come to look. I put my arm around her waist.
“All of the happy moments I had growing up, were because of Susan.”
Jeanette had rolled up behind Laura, and reached out her hand. Laura took it. Jeanette said, “I’m here at Seth’s request, to listen to the tape and glean anything I can from it, from a professional standpoint. In order to do that, it would help to know a little about your sister. It will give me a better frame of reference regarding her as a person when I listen.”
She was asking Laura to talk about her childhood with Susan, about the reason they had been separated, and placed in foster care. I said quietly, “Caroline and I can give you and Jeanette some privacy if you like, and come back when you’re ready to listen to the tape.”
Laura looked at us and smiled. She shook her head. “No, it’s fine.” She gestured toward the sofas. “Let’s sit down and get comfortable.” Caroline and I got comfortable on the love seat opposite Laura, who plopped down in a corner of the sea blue sofa and tucked her very nice legs underneath her. She looked at Jeanette who had parked her chair at the end of the coffee table, only a few feet away. Laura had taken the gunfighter’s seat. I was certain Jeanette had noticed it too.
Laura took a deep breath. “Our father was a drunk. Even when he wasn’t drunk he wasn’t a very nice man. He liked to knock us around when he was soused, which was most of the time. I say us, but it was mostly Susan. She was a few years older and protected me the only way she knew how, by getting in his way. Whenever he came after me, she’d be right there, taking the brunt of it.”
Laura might have been relating the weather, or some incident that happened at the studio. The only indication of how bad it had been for her was the tiny tear rolling down one cheek, trying to escape from all the memories. She wiped it away and continued in the same conversational tone.
“One night it got so bad that we reversed roles, and I got in his way. I was scared to death. Not of him. I was always scared of him when he was drunk. But for Susan. I thought he was going to kill her. She’d hit her head on the corner of the kitchen table and it was bleeding. She was out cold. I was screaming her name. He’d knock me away from her and I’d go right back and scream her name some more, trying to wake her up.” She closed her eyes a moment, and gracefully wiped the closed lids with her fingertips, removing evidence of her pain. “Someone must have called the cops, even in that neighborhood. When they came, that was the last I saw of Susan for a long time. We were both put into
foster care.”
She paused a few seconds to gather herself. She smiled at a happier memory.
“We reconnected later. We stayed in touch after that as much as possible. She was proud of me, but not as proud as I was of her. Susan was helping people in ways I knew I never could. But you know what she told me? She said that when I was ready, I could use my talent to help even more people, give them something to hang onto. I always kept that in mind. That’s why after the sitcom was over I went to college and learned the business end. Now I have this show, where I try to do just that.”
We could all see that she was very proud of what she had done. I could not help but feel sorry for her in that the person she had most wanted to make proud of her had been stripped from her life. Even worse, she did not know how, why, or whether Susan was even alive after all this time.
“We’ve been on the air forever,” she continued. “I think this may be our final year, though. The people in suits are grumbling about mediocre ratings. It’s an hour show, and it isn’t shallow reality television. It requires a heart and an attention span longer than five seconds. The good news is we’ve just hit the magic two-hundredth episode number, which means even if the network cancels us, we’ll be syndicated in reruns forever. Because I own the show outright and can offer it at a lesser price to stations, it will continue to offer hope as long as I’m around to make sure it’s available.”
“Thank you for being so candid,” Jeanette said after a few seconds had passed. “I think I have a better picture of her, even if it is only a partial one.” And a better picture of Laura Garner as well, I thought.
“Before we start the tape, I would like to take notes, if you don’t mind. It is only so I will remember what I picked up so that I can relate it to Seth, to help in his investigation, and also you.”
Laura nodded. Jeanette reached around and pulled a yellow legal pad from the pouch behind her. She said, “Seth?”
I placed the cassette on the table. “The first part is Holly under hypnosis. When the tape reverses, it is after Susan has brought her out. It’s more conversational.” I looked at Laura. “You ready?”
“Go ahead,” she said softly. I pressed the play button and Susan’s voice filled the room.
“Paris, October 9th, 2005. Patient, Holly Carmichael. We’ll try hypnotherapy today to get to the heart of her sexual trauma, and Holly’s fear that she’s being stalked.”
There was an audible intake of breath from Laura. It was the first time she’d heard her sister’s voice in a long time, and it obviously affected her.
“I want you to go back to your relationship with Boon, and tell me how it began. How old were you when you met him?”
“Fourteen. No, wait, I’d just turned fifteen. But I was really innocent for fifteen, because my mom had taken off when I was six or so. I was more like a kid than other girls my age.”
“Tell me how you met Boon, Holly.”
“He was Daddy’s drinking buddy. Daddy drank a lot, and he could get mean, but Boon could handle him.”
“What do you mean, handle him, Holly?”
“You know, keep him from knocking me around. Boon was his pal, but I think Dad was kind of afraid of him, too. I was always bruised up growing up until Boon came along.”
I’d heard this before, so I was covertly keeping an eye on Laura. She had an expression of heartfelt empathy for the story already emerging.
“You must have been very grateful.”
“Boon was so good to me. He’d get me out of there and take me out to eat and stuff when my dad was on one of his benders, which got more and more frequent as I got older.”
“It would only be natural for you to feel something more than gratitude toward Boon at that age, Holly, especially if your mind hadn’t caught up with your body.”
That pause, and the voice change I’d heard the first time.
“I sort of had a crush on him. He was so big and strong and good looking. The other girls at school saw me with Boon a couple of times. I told them…he was my boyfriend.”
“Did you think he was your boyfriend? It would be understandable. You were only fifteen, and you didn’t have a mother to talk to about such things.”
Another pause.
“I told them he was.”
“Did they believe you?”
“Not at first. They made fun of me, like always. But then a few of them saw how Boon was with me. We’d hold hands. His were so big and strong. Sometimes he’d put his arm around my waist. They didn’t make fun of me as much anymore.”
“Was that all?”
Holly sucked in air.
“A couple of girls saw him put his hand on my rear a few times. Then they all started to believe me.”
“What was your reaction the first time Boon did that?”
“I was flattered. It…excited me. I’d never felt…strange like I did when he caressed my butt. It made me feel like I really was his girl. Like I was pretty. It made me…warm inside. I could tell the other girls were jealous. He was so big and handsome. I’d just turned sixteen the first time he did it.”
“When did it go further than that, Holly?”
A sad sound of anguish before Holly leapt of the edge.
“Dad was passed out drunk and Boon picked me up and carried me into the bedroom, like I’d seen them do in movies. He put me down by the bed and told me he loved me. Then he kissed me, full on the lips. Tongue and everything. I let him. I knew I shouldn’t, but I loved him a little too, I guess. And no one had ever told me they loved me before.”
“Was that the first time he molested you?”
“I guess you can call it that. I was sixteen. Other girls had already done it. But I was like a little kid, really. He said he’d stop kissing me if I didn’t want to kiss him. But I did. I…I told him he could. Then he took off his pants and he was just…there, all naked and excited. He was ugly and…beautiful at the same time. It…thrilled me that I was what excited him, made him so huge. Part of me wanted to run, but at the same time I’d never wanted anything so bad as I wanted him to love me. He could have had anyone, but he wanted me. He said I was the prettiest girl in the world and he loved me.”
“Did he ask for your permission, like with the kiss? It would be understandable if in your confusion, you said Yes.”
“Yes. I told him…he could make love to me. He undressed me. But then he got down on his knees. I thought he was going to propose or something. But he…tongue kissed me…down there. For a long time. He got me so hot. And then he lifted me up in his arms, and we were on the bed. He filled me up. I thought I was going to die, it hurt so bad. But the more he kissed me, and kept sliding it in and out, the more excited I got. It started feeling so good…I could endure the pain for the…other feeling.”
She was crying again, like she’d cried the first time we’d heard it in Manta.
“I felt like I was going to explode into a million pieces. Like a star bursting or something. I started crying. I began begging him to stop…because I knew it was wrong. But I was…so close. He stopped moving and told me he’d never touch me again if I told him right then to leave. But I…couldn’t.”
Anguished whimpers.
“What did you tell him, Holly? You were young and confused. It’s completely understandable.”
“I told him I loved him. He said he wasn’t sure that I loved him, and maybe he’d made a mistake because he loved me so much. He said he should go. So I…I begged him to keep loving me. Begged him to keep giving it to me. I told him it felt wonderful. He got this look in his eyes, sort of all happy, and then he started ramming it in me even harder than before, till all that mattered was what he was doing to me. I exploded. But I didn’t die. I wish I had. I felt so ashamed. I was sure all my screaming would wake up Daddy, but he was dead-drunk.”
“What happened next, Holly?”
“I felt wonderful. Older, somehow. It was the girls who made fun of me all the time who seemed like kids now. And I felt ashamed becau
se I felt so wonderful. Boon told me to close my eyes and then he put his finger under my nose and told me to sniff.”
“Cocaine?”
“Yes, but I didn’t know what it was then. I got hooked on it, because it made me feel like I could do anything. I wanted to be Supergirl for Boon, so he’d keep loving me like that.”
A click as the tape reversed.
“When did you break free from him the first time, Holly?”
“About six months after that first time. Dad caught us together in the shower. I was on my knees making love to Boon. Boon thought he was passed out on the sofa like a hundred times before when we’d done it. But he must have come-to, or not been as drunk as Boon thought. Dad was mad, but mad at me, not Boon! He was screaming what a little slut I was when Boon hit him and knocked him out. I was scared and crying. Boon made me go to the bedroom. I heard him wake Dad up, and they argued. And then they left. Boon came back alone three hours later. He said Dad wouldn’t bother us anymore. He told me to pack a bag and we were leaving. I guess I knew he’d done something, maybe killed Dad. I’d been weaning myself off the coke by then. I still asked Boon for it so he wouldn’t get suspicious, but I’d flush it down the toilet.”
“That must have taken a lot of courage.”
“Yeah, I guess it did. I was proud of myself. I’d grown up a lot in that six months. I wasn’t a sixteen-year-old thinking like a twelve-year-old any longer. Boon took away my innocence. He had manipulated me, like you’ve helped me see. He got me hooked on sex, thinking it was love, and then he got me hooked on coke just to make me completely dependent on him. One night he came back to the apartment he’d rented for us. He was wearing this nice suit, really expensive, and a gun. He told me he had a job to do and then we’d be set for life. I knew right then he was into something really bad, and he’d bring me down with him. Or worse, he’d take me along for the ride. When he left to go do the job, so did I.”
“Where did you go?”
“Geez, it was just a blur of small Florida towns for a while. Where didn’t I go? Boon never left me any money. I guess he suspected I might do a runner on him. I finally hooked my way into a bus ticket to Los Angeles. I didn’t have any skills. Sex was all I knew how to do. I’m not proud of it, but I never did it again.”
The Long Gray Goodbye: A Seth Halliday Novel Page 11
