by J. P. Bowie
“Lunch?”
“Yeah, lunch. You know; where you sit down and eat something? Off a plate, usually.”
“Sorry, Peter, I’m a bit spacey today. Yeah, that’d be fine. What time were you thinking?”
“Oh, about one o’clock. That good for you?”
“Yeah, one’s good. There’s a little cafe right outside my office on Broad Street, Ramon’s. Do you know it?”
“I’ll find it, don’t worry. See you at one.”
“Look forward to it.” Jerry sounded sincere enough.
“See you later then.” Peter closed his cell. “Okay, that’s done.”
“Please don’t upset him too much. He may not take too kindly to you knowing about this.”
“Peter will be the soul of tact,” Gloria assured her. “Now, tell him what else that bastard father of yours did last night.” Emily glanced uncertainly at Peter, and Gloria blurted out. “He tried to… to take her by force again.”
Peter gaped at them both. “What? My God, the man should be locked up.”
“That’s what I said. Fortunately, Anthony came home at that moment and intervened. Pushed old Charlie against the wall and let him have it.”
Peter listened, his face a frozen mask of shock as Emily haltingly related the rest of the story, including what Anthony had revealed about his father giving him to a doctor friend.
“Jesus.” Peter’s jaw clenched in anger.
“If he showed up here right now,” Gloria hissed, “I’d take Johnny’s gun and put a hole through my Uncle Charlie’s black heart.”
“Gloria, please,” Emily cried.
“Sorry sweetheart, but I do hate him for what he’s done to you and the rest of his family.”
Peter shook his head. “Unbelievable. Will you stay here with Gloria and Johnny?”
Emily nodded. “I wanted Anthony to come too, but he said he’d be all right, and he didn’t want to leave Mother alone. I’m going back to pick up some things later.”
“I’ll call you after lunch and let you know how I got on with Jerry.” Peter hugged her. “Chin up, little one. Everything will be all right.”
“That’s what Anthony said.” Emily’s eyes glistened. “I hope you’re both right.”
Peter had no problem finding the restaurant Jerry had suggested. He arrived on time and ordered a coffee while he waited for him. He knew he’d have to tread carefully. He didn’t want to come across as a busybody; meddling in something Jerry was sure to consider it none of his business. He wondered how he would have reacted to news as terrible as this.
How do you come to terms with the fact that the person you love had been repeatedly molested for years? You’re outraged, of course. But isn’t there a moment when you ask yourself—Why was it allowed to go on for so long? Of course, Emily and her sister had gone to their mother and received no help from her. How devastating that must have been for two young girls with no one to help them. And Anthony…Jesus, Charles Hastings must have no conscience whatsoever.
After a time he glanced at his watch, and noted with surprise that Jerry was already fifteen minutes late. Was he going to stand him up? He was just about to call him when he saw the young man enter the diner.
“Sorry, Peter.” He offered his hand. “I got caught up in some last minute business and couldn’t get away.”
“No problem.” Peter took in Jerry’s disheveled appearance, his hair a little mussed and his tie askew. It didn’t detract from the man’s good looks; in fact it gave him an endearing, boyish look. “Did you have to wrestle your way out?”
“Excuse me?”
“You look a little rumpled,” Peter kidded him.
“Oh that…” Jerry cleared his throat and straightened his tie. “Just the day’s wear and tear. What’ll you have? The BLT is great here”
“I was going to order the burger.”
“I’ll have the same.” Jerry jumped up and went over to the counter, returning in a few minutes with a burger for each of them and a coke for himself. After taking a bite of his burger, he leaned back in his seat and gave Peter a searching look. “So, to what do I owe this pleasure?”
Peter decided to come straight to the point. “I talked to Emily and Gloria this morning.”
“Oh…” Jerry seemed to become fixated with the color of the tablecloth in front of him. “So you know.”
“Yes. As a matter of fact Jerry, Emily told me in confidence during one of our sittings. It was me who suggested she tell you. Something I hope I don’t regret for the rest of my life.”
Jerry’s expression was bleak. “Peter, you have to understand, this was a terrible shock for me.”
“Of course it was, but think how terrible it’s been for Emily all these years, enduring that hell.”
“I do think of that Peter. That’s all I could think of last night. How awful her life has been for years.”
“And now she has you to make it better.”
“And I let her down. What a jerk I am.”
“It’s not too late to tell her that.”
Jerry nodded then a frown wrinkled his forehead. “What I can’t understand is how she and her sister could let it go on for all those years, without telling someone.”
“I asked myself the same thing, Jerry. All I can think is, they were just kids—frightened kids, without a loving mother to turn to. They did tell her and she ignored it, if you can believe that? According to Jeff, who’s had some experience with abused kids, it’s not unusual for them to swear those they confide in to secrecy. Sometimes it’s like they blame themselves for what’s happening. It’s hard for people like you and me, who’ve never had to face this kind of thing, to really understand what’s going through the victims’ minds. All we can do is give them the love and compassion they need to get over it—if they ever do.” He paused as Jerry shook his head then decided it was time to bring out the big guns. “He tried to rape her last night, Jerry.”
“Oh, my God, no.” Jerry stared at Peter with horror. “I sent her into that house last night without even a goodnight kiss—and then she had to face that bastard. He’s better off dead!” His knuckles turned white as he gripped the edge of the table, trying to control his rage. “He didn’t manage to—did he?”
“No. Anthony arrived home in time to stop it.”
“Yes, I saw him drive in as I left. Thank God.”
“And that’s not all. I don’t know what Emily’s mother’s motivation was, but she blamed Emily for the whole thing…of enticing the old man”
“What?”
“The only thing that shut her up was when Anthony told her he had been sodomized by one of his father’s buddies—when he was a kid—and with his father’s knowledge.”
“Jesus, the poor guy. What the hell kind of father is Charles Hastings? They both have to get out of that house.” He was quiet for a moment or two than asked, “Where is Emily?”
“At Gloria’s. She’s staying with her and Johnny for the time being.”
“I have to see her.”
“Of course you do.”
At two o’clock that same day, Charles Hastings’ secretary, Dorothy Babcock, returned from her lunch break. She knocked on her boss’s door and went in to let him know she was back and to deliver his sandwich and coffee. He had told her he was expecting a visitor during the lunch hour, so he would not be going out. She remembered he hadn’t seemed too pleased at the prospect.
She walked across the office and laid the wrapped sandwich and the coffee cup on his desk. Dorothy frowned as she noticed his chair had been tipped over onto its back. Walking round the desk in order to pull it upright, she tripped and fell on top of Charles Hastings’ inert form.
“Mr. Hastings,” she gasped. “Are you all right?”
Then she saw it. Protruding from his forehead was a large decorative letter opener. Numbly, she recognized it as the Christmas gift she’d given him only last year.
Then, she started to scream.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN<
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After Peter and Jerry had parted company outside the cafe, Peter drove down to Jeff’s office on the way home. Monica, Jeff’s receptionist, had already gone for the day so with Peter’s arrival, Jeff decided to close up shop. They went for a walk on the beach, and Jeff listened in amazement as Peter recounted the events of the day.
“Jesus, what a family.” Jeff stooped and picked up a pebble, flinging it into the sea in exasperation. “How in hell do people find themselves in this kind of mess? Those kids certainly deserve better lives than this.”
“Well, at least Jerry is going to be there for Emily.”
“Thanks in no small part to you.” Jeff squeezed Peter’s arm.
“I knew he’d do the decent thing. He’s that kind of guy. He was just torn up by what Emily had been through.”
“She’s going to need him now more than ever after last night’s scene. God, what a grotesque individual Hastings is. Where do you suppose his mind was when he was letting that other creep rape his son? How can he live with himself?”
“He’s a total degenerate. It’s just unbelievable that someone could willingly do this to his own family.”
When they got back home they listened to the message Gloria had left them on their answering machine. “Guys, you will not believe what’s happened—Uncle Charlie was found murdered in his office today. Aunt Patricia is under sedation. I’m here at their house with Emily. Anthony is nowhere to be found. Jerry’s on his way over. Please call me at Emily’s when you get this message.”
The message was timed at three thirty. Peter and Jeff looked at each other in disbelief.
“So someone finally had enough,” Peter said.
“Call Gloria and see if we can do anything,” Jeff said. “I don’t think they’ll be in mourning, but it’s got to be a shock nevertheless.”
“Right.” Peter grabbed the phone.
Gloria answered. “Hi, Peter. Thanks for calling.”
“How is everything there? Is Emily all right?”
“She’s better now that Jerry’s here. Looks like things are back to normal with them. I left them alone for a heart to heart. The police have been all over, of course. They’re trying to find Anthony to let him know.”
“You haven’t heard from him yet?”
“Nope. Patricia said he’d gone to speak to his father. Left around ten this morning, but the secretary says he never came to the office…at least while she was there.”
“Is there anything we can do?”
“Not really. Patricia’s still zonked out and there’s a nurse in attendance. Emily has Jerry…and between you and me, Peter…” She lowered her voice before she continued. “…the world is one helluva nicer place today, now that bastard is dead.”
Peter could not find it in himself to contradict her, as cold as she had sounded. Jeff was right. No one was going to mourn the passing of Charles Hastings.
“Gloria, be sure to call if you need anything.”
“Will do, sweetie. Bye for now.”
Peter put down the phone. “What do you suppose could have happened to Anthony? He’s not at home and the police are looking for him. Will they think that’s suspicious?”
“If he has a plausible story for his absence, he should be okay. It’s a little early to be suspecting him of murdering his father. He might have just gone off somewhere to get over the trauma of last night. People react differently to stressful situations. He could be in a bar, getting drunk.”
“Or getting laid.”
“That too.”
“He could have gone to see Joey…”
“Possibly, but he did say he wasn’t seeing Joey anymore, remember? Anyway, I’ll give Joey a call at the studio, just in case.”
“He’s going to be surprised we know he’s been seeing Anthony.”
Jeff grinned. “That’s right. He’ll probably think I’ve been snooping.” He pulled Joey’s card from his billfold and punched in the number to his studio.
“Hey Joey, it’s Jeff.”
“Ola, Jeff. What a surprise, amigo. Did Blondie kick you out?”
Jeff chuckled. “Not yet. Tell me; is Anthony there with you by any chance?”
“Anthony? I don’t know any Anthony.”
“Yes, you do. The kid you showed me the photos of in the studio. The one you’re so crazy about.”
“Adam! His name is Adam, not Anthony. Why do you want to know anyway?”
“He’s the brother of a friend of ours, Joey. We have an urgent message for him. If you see him have him call his sister right away, or his cousin Gloria. Will you remember that?”
“I haven’t seen the son of a bitch in over a week,” Joey said angrily. “If I do see him, I’m not giving him any message—other than he can go to hell!”
Jeff held the phone away from his ear as Joey’s voice rose in decibel level.
“Okay Joey, but this is kind of important. I’d really appreciate it if you could help me out here.”
“Huh,” Joey huffed. “I have to go Jeff. Someone’s at the door. Adios.” Just before Joey put the receiver down, Jeff heard him say, “Oh, it’s you.”
Jeff looked at Peter, shaking his head. “Man, this is screwy. Anthony’s calling himself Adam and Joey has no idea he’s being lied to.”
“I told you I thought Anthony was a dark horse. He’s been leading a double life up in LA. Giving people a false name, but why?”
“Who knows what his reasons are. Someone just came in to the studio as I was talking to Joey and he obviously knew who it was. Could have been Anthony?”
“But wouldn’t Joey have told you if it was?”
“Not necessarily. He was pretty steamed up about not seeing the kid in over a week. He probably wanted to have a scene right away. That’s Joey—always the drama queen.”
§ § § §
Joey looked at his visitor with distaste. “What the hell do you want this time? I’ve told you and told you, it’s over between us.”
Bob Thomson’s face flushed with anger at Joey’s words. His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides as he fought to keep control of his temper. “Joey, I’m asking you for the last time and I mean for the last time, please—”
“Get out of here, now.” Joey’s expression was one of contempt. “I don’t want to hear anymore whining.”
“Please Joey, don’t do this. I’ll get down on my knees and beg if that’s what it’ll take.” His eyes filled with tears. “I’m dying inside. Can’t you see? Are you so insanely in love with that kid Adam that you’re blind to everything else around you? I could have thrown you out of here for non-payment of rent ages ago, but I didn’t because I love you, Joey. You mean everything to me, don’t you understand that? Forget Adam. He doesn’t want you like I do.”
“Shut the fuck up.” Joey regarded him with scorn. “Don’t you get it? I can’t stand you anywhere near me. I never could. You’re ugly. You’re disgusting. You haven’t one redeeming feature. Get out of here and get the fuck out of my life.”
Tears slid down Bob’s cheeks. “You can’t mean that. Not after everything I’ve done for you.”
“What you’ve done for me?” Joey sneered. “You think this…” He gestured around the studio with a deprecating wave of his hand, “This, could make up for all the times I had to grit my teeth and stop myself from screaming every time you touched me? You think you can mention yourself and Adam in the same breath? Have you looked in the mirror lately?” He turned away in dismissal then looked back at Bob, his face twisted with disgust. “You poor fool.”
The color was swept from Bob’s face as a murderous rage built inside him. “You fuck.” Snarling, he lunged at Joey and gripped him by the throat. The two men fell to the floor, struggling like maniacs. Joey was strong and physically very fit, but the mad rage inside Bob gave him strength that Joey could not match. Desperately, he clawed at Bob’s face.
“No,” he croaked. “Bob no, please, no—!”
But a fury now possessed Bob. All the
months of pent up disappointments and frustrations Joey had inflicted upon him were now manifested in an intense rage that surged through his very being. All reason left him as he slowly squeezed the life from the man he had once loved above all else. Oblivious to the punishing blows to his body, he continued his paralyzing hold on Joey’s throat until the man’s struggling weakened, then stopped. Joey lay still and unmoving beneath him. Only then did he relinquish that devastating grip. Moaning softly as reason returned and the realization of what he’d done flooded over him; he lay down beside Joey’s body and wept.
How long he lay there, he did not know, but when his senses returned he looked about him furtively for evidence that he had been there. No one had seen him come in. The other offices were long since vacated for the evening. Panicked, he scrambled to his feet, and unable to look again at the man he had just murdered, started for the door. His breath caught in this throat as he heard footsteps outside. Darting back into the studio, he slipped in to the dark room and waited.
“Joey?” someone called. “Are you there? It’s…uh, Adam.”
Bob, peering through the crack in the door, could just see the young man enter the studio. He watched as he ran to where Joey’s lifeless body lay.
“Joey. Oh, my God.”
Opening the door to the dark room, Bob spied a metal tripod leaning against the wall. Grabbing it, he rushed at the young man, taking him completely by surprise. Viciously he swung the tripod against his head, grunting with satisfaction as Adam slumped over Joey’s body. For a moment he stood staring at the two men at his feet. Then he wiped his fingerprints from the tripod, thrust it into Joey’s right hand, and placed the other man’s hands around Joey’s throat. Picking up the phone from Joey’s work table, he dialed 9-1-1.
“Give me the police,” he whispered.
§ § § §
Later that night, Gloria called Peter in a panic. “I can’t believe what’s happening.” Peter could hear in her voice that she was very close to tears. “That bitch, my aunt Patricia, has more or less told the police that Emily might have killed her father.”
“What?”
Jeff looked up from the book he was reading as he heard the shock in Peter’s voice. “Listen Gloria, you’d better tell Jeff about this. He’ll know what to do.” He handed the phone to Jeff, muttering, “Emily’s mother is accusing her of the murder.”
