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“How did you find this out?” Teague asked.
“When I began investigating Pastor Irwin, after Teague’s call, one of the people I contacted was his lawyer.” Slater took some folded papers from his pocket. “According to the lawyer, the pastor gave him two letters, one for Bradley Irwin, the other for the pastor’s superior. They were to be delivered on the first anniversary of his death—or his wife’s should she outlive him.”
“Can we presume that’s a copy of the letter?” Teague asked.
“Yes. As soon as I found out, I went to talk to Pastor Irwin’s superior. As he lives in Collingswood, that wasn’t difficult.” Slater smiled dryly. “Convincing him to let me see the letter, and then make a copy of it was. He was afraid the information it contained would bring disgrace to the church and to Bradley. That’s the reason he hadn’t turned it over to the police.”
“Must be a hell of a bombshell in it,” Hoyt said, his gaze—like Teague and Chief Davis’s—locked on the papers Slater was holding.
Instead of replying, Slater handed the letter to Chief Davis. The chief unfolded it, scanned it, then began reading it aloud.
“As I grow older, the burden of my sin grows heavier. I killed a man. I believe it was justified but it is still a sin to take another man’s life.
“I should start at the beginning. My dear wife, Linda, had an older brother, Carl Ham. A charming but unprincipled man with strong sexual appetites who believed he had the right to do whatever he wanted and damn the consequences. I was glad when the church moved me from Bent Township to Glenley, as it meant we could leave him behind. Linda stayed in touch with him, but that was the extent of it for the next two years.
“Then, one afternoon, Carl showed up unannounced at our house. He said he was tired of his life in Bent Township and that he missed Linda and our family. At the time I believed him when he said he was turning over a new leaf and for a while it seemed as if he meant it. He found an apartment, got a job, and seemed to be settling down.
“It was nine months later when he came to see me at the church. He was obviously upset and said he had something to confess, begging me not to tell his sister. Reluctantly, I agreed. He prefaced his remarks with, ‘I’m not gay. I have never condoned their evil ways. But I made a mistake, Corwin.’ He buried his head in his hands. ‘I got drunk one evening. Very drunk.’ He looked up at me then. ‘You’re aware that when I drink I lose control of my libido. God only knows you lectured me enough about that. I…I staggered out of the bar and…there’s a park in town where I knew I could find some street girl to deal with my problem.’
“I knew the park he meant. It was notorious for that. Girls and boys who would sell themselves to stay alive. Carl told me he went there that night and was, in his words, seduced by a charming young man. I doubt that was the case. When Carl got too drunk, he didn’t care who he had sex with, as long as he got relief. While he talked, Carl got angrier and angrier. ‘That bastard infected me,’ he spat out. ‘He gave me that gay curse’. That’s what he called it. The gay curse. I wasn’t certain at first what he meant. Even though it was the late 80’s, I’ll admit I was unaware about what was happening to gay men. So I asked and he told me he had AIDS. Or at least he thought he did. He began to rant about ‘the scum who infested the streets, preying on men, passing on their curse to them’. I finally got him calmed down. We prayed together and then I told him he had to see a doctor. He promised he would.
“I don’t know to this day if he really did have AIDS, or if it was something else. When I asked, a week later, he refused to talk about it other than to say he was taking care of the problem. I thought he meant he had done as I suggested, gone to a doctor, and was being treated.”
Teague sighed, saying, “How could the pastor have been so naïve?”
“Carl was the pastor’s brother-in-law,” Slater replied. “He wanted to believe that he’d done what was necessary. Besides, why would he think Carl meant something else?”
“True. Sorry for interrupting.”
Chief Davis nodded and continued reading.
“Soon after my talk with Carl,” the pastor wrote, “There was a story in the local paper about the murder of a homeless boy in a town not too far from Glenley. I thought nothing of it other than to wonder what sort of person could inflict such torture on anyone, regardless of what they were. If I presumed anything at all, it was that someone’s hatred of gays had manifested itself in a truly evil way.
“Not too much later there was another story, about a second murder, in a town to the east of Glenley. That did give me pause, but only because, despite the teaching of my church that being gay was a sin, I was appalled that someone was apparently killing gay teens.”
“He should have been appalled. Him and anyone else with any semblance of a brain and some compassion,” Hoyt said harshly.
“Agreed,” Chief Davis said before taking up where he’d left off.
“Then came the third killing, in Collingswood, and a visit from Carl. He had been strangely absent in our lives for the previous few weeks. The night after the last murder, he walked into my office at the church. It was late but I was there putting the finishing touches on my Sunday sermon. He sat down in the chair across from me at my desk, looking at me. There was something in his eyes. A sense of cold-blooded pride if I was going to put words to it now. ‘I’ve found a way to deal with my problem,’ he told me. ‘A way to end…’ He stopped then as if he knew he was about to say more than he should.
“I had the newspaper article about the latest murder sitting beside me on the desk as my sermon was about the Lord’s words ‘Vengeance is mine’. I intended to use the basis of that story to point out that it is not our duty to repay those who have harmed us, which I thought the killer was doing. Carl’s gaze lit on the paper and he smiled savagely. ‘Those boys deserve what was done to them,’ he spat out. ‘No one deserves to be murdered,’ I replied with some asperity. ‘When they use their bodies without a thought to the consequences, they earn whatever comes to them,’ Carl replied coldly. ‘Especially when they are breaking God’s laws’.
“My immediate thought was that he had done exactly that when he had sex with the boy who had infected him. One look at him however and I knew he wouldn’t see it that way. After all, he wasn’t gay. He’d just given into his urges, as always. He stood then, coming up behind me to look at what I had written. ‘Vengeance is mine,’ he barely whispered. ‘I will repay them in due time.’ I thought he was reading aloud the opening words of my sermon. I turned to look up at him and the dreadful realization came to me. ‘You haven’t…?’ He merely smiled and without another word he left my office.
“I sat for the next hour, lost in horrified thought. I knew I should tell the police about my suspicions. But it would destroy Linda. She loved her brother. He was the only family she had outside of me and Bradley. And there was also Bradley to consider. He adored his uncle. But I couldn’t let Carl continue with his evil ways. In the end I knew what I had to do. It would damn me, but it would save the lives of more boys. Boys Carl hated and was bent on exterminating because of his own folly.
“It took me two days to come up with a means to the end. When I had, I called Carl, asking him to meet me at a small, disreputable bar outside of town. He laughed, asking when I had taken up drinking. I told him I rarely did, but things were going badly at the moment between me and Linda and I needed a stiff drink or two and his shoulder to cry on—or words to that effect. He believed me and agreed to meet me there. I chose that bar because I knew that the only parking was in the unlit lot behind it. To bring things to a close, when he stepped out of his car I called to him from where I’d parked at the edge of the lot. As he came over I walked into the trees behind the lot. He followed, asking what was going on. I attacked and killed him, and then I dragged his body deeper into the trees, to a hole I had already dug. I buried him there, with the hammer I’d used to murder him.
“I don’t regret what I did. Not when the kill
ings ceased. It was easy enough to explain to Linda that her brother had undoubtedly moved on again. Looking for that elusive something he had yet to find to make his life better. She accepted that, although she often wondered why he never contacted her, as close as they had been. Bradley was understandably upset at first, but he was young and soon enough school and his friends took precedence.
“My only regret is that I know my soul is damned. But in the end, what is one soul compared to the lives that were saved?”
“And that’s it,” Chief Davis said, refolding the paper before handing it back to Slater.
“I’m not sure I could have lived with that on my conscience, no matter the reason,” Teague said quietly.
“He was a good man, faced with an insurmountable problem and he handled it in the only way he knew how,” Hoyt replied. “If only Bradley had realized that. But it’s obvious he didn’t. His letter from his father must have told the same story.”
Slater nodded. “But rather than taking it to heart, he set out on his own road of revenge for what happened to his uncle.”
“We won’t know that until I can question him,” Chief Davis said.
“At least now, if we’re right, we know why it took almost thirty years for the killings to start up again. And I have closure, finally, as do you,” Teague said, looking at Slater.
Slater nodded. “A strange story, but one that makes sense. I wonder why Pastor Irwin’s wife killed him and then herself, although I can make a good guess. Somehow she came across one of the letters before he gave them to his lawyer. It would have been horrible enough to learn what her brother had done. It would have been even worse to find out that her husband had murdered him. She must have thought he was going to confess to the world what had happened. She couldn’t have known that he would tell the lawyer not to pass the letters on to Bradley and the pastor’s superior until after both Pastor Irwin and she were dead.”
“So much tragedy because one man couldn’t keep it in his pants,” Hoyt said dourly.
“It happens all too often, in one way or another,” the chief replied. “Blame the victim, not the perpetrator.”
“Which Carl did, even though the boys he murdered had nothing to do with what happened to him,” Teague added. He looked at Hoyt, dismayed at how pale and drawn he was. “Time to get you home.”
Hoyt seemed as if he was going to protest. Then, with a sigh, he agreed. He and Teague thanked Slater for coming down to let them know about, and see, what he had found out.
The chief helped Hoyt stand, telling him in no uncertain terms that he was to take care of himself and heal. “I know,” he added, “that you’ll start going crazy soon enough from enforced idleness. If that happens, and if I think you’re ready, I can place you on desk duty. You should be able to handle that.”
“Something to look forward to,” Hoyt replied sourly. “Still, thanks for the offer. I suspect I’ll take you up on it until I’m back in shape because you’re right. I don’t do idle well.”
* * * *
“You really don’t do idle at all well,” Teague said, repeating Hoyt’s words from twenty minutes ago.
The moment they walked into Hoyt’s house, the detective flicked on the TV and began to walk toward the kitchen, announcing he was hungry. The fact that he had to grab the back of the sofa for a moment to steady himself didn’t seem to deter him.
“You will sit. Now.” Teague ordered, pointing to the sofa. “Then I’ll go upstairs and find you something to wear so I can have my jacket back. I’d put you to bed, but I don’t think you’ve got enough strength to navigate the stairs right now. Where are the meds the doctor gave you?”
Hoyt collapsed on the sofa, muttering about bossy men while he dug the pills containers out of the jacket pocket. Teague took them, checking when Hoyt was supposed to take them. “You’re due for a pain pill, and from the look of you, you need it.” Teague handed Hoyt one then went into the kitchen to get him some water.
“When are you leaving?” Hoyt asked after downing the pill.
“Not until the nurse gets here.”
“No.” Hoyt rested his head on the back of the sofa. “When are you leaving town.”
Teague sat down beside him, totally forgetting for the moment that he was going to get Hoyt something else to wear beside the jacket. “I haven’t decided yet. I should go back tomorrow and have the chief call me to tell me what Irwin says.”
“Undoubtedly that will be nothing,” Hoyt replied dispiritedly. “I wish…”
“What?”
“That you’d stick around for a while like you promised.”
Carefully, Teague slid his arm around Hoyt until his head rested on Teague’s shoulder. “I’m not sure it’s really a good idea. It would only be for a few days at best. You know that.”
“I know.” Hoyt’s eyes closed. “But even that would be…nice…We could get to…” His voice faded out and Teague realized he was asleep. Unwilling to move, Teague stroked Hoyt’s hair gently.
“If there was any way…” Teague murmured. “But there’s not. If we get to know each other better, which is what I think you were trying to say, it would hurt even more when I have to leave.”
Why? Why have I finally met someone I could learn to love, only to have to give him up because…because we’re…He almost laughed. The country mouse and the city mouse. Like them, we’re destined never to change. Never to learn to accept the other’s life.
He was startled when the doorbell rang. Carefully disentangling from Hoyt, who was so deeply asleep he hadn’t heard the bell, Teague laid him down on his back and then went to open the door. A young man stood there, incongruously dressed in a pair of worn jeans and a scrubs shirt, with a backpack over one shoulder.
“Hi,” the man said. “I’m Tony Hammond. I suspect you’re not my patient.”
“Nope. That would be Hoyt.” Teague pointed to the sofa.
“Why isn’t he in bed?” Tony asked, crossing to look down at Hoyt.
“Because he landed on the sofa first? I didn’t think he was in any shape to make it up the stairs.”
“Well, he can’t sleep here.” Tony put down the backpack. “I’ll wake him and you’ll help me get him to his room. Or better yet we can move him to the recliner. Probably without waking him.”
Pissed at Tony’s attitude, Teague almost refused. Then common sense took over. Between them, they navigated Hoyt into the recliner. Tony carefully stripped Hoyt of the jacket, his shoes, and jeans. “Go get him sweats if he has them,” Tony said as he removed Hoyt’s shoulder brace.
“Are you always this dictatorial,” Teague asked tightly, watching while Tony checked the wound site then got fresh dressing from his pack.
“Sorry. I tend to get that way when I see a patient who’s not doing what he should be.” He turned to smile slightly at Teague. “And you’re here to take the brunt of it. So, please would you go see what he’s got to wear? Preferably a loose shirt that I can fit over the brace.”
With a nod, Teague did, returning with sweat pants and a thick flannel shirt. With Teague’s help, Tony got Hoyt dressed again and then put the recliner’s back at a forty-five degree angle. “He’ll be more comfortable this way than flat on his back,” he explained to Teague. “Where are his meds?”
“On the coffee table. He just took a pain pill.”
“No wonder he’s out.” Going to get the containers, Tony checked the dosage information then put them on the mantelpiece above the fireplace. “Do you live here, too?” he asked Teague.
“No, I’m just a friend.”
“All right. Then you should probably leave. If you’re planning on helping him during the day, come back around nine. Otherwise, I’ll call for someone to be here with him.”
“He’s not going to accept that.”
“You know what, that’s too bad. Until he learns how to take care of himself without re-injuring his shoulder, he needs a companion to do what he can’t.”
“That will be me,�
�� Teague said, instantly deciding he wouldn’t put Hoyt through more stress than he’d already dealt with. “For the next couple of days anyway.”
“Good. Then I’ll see you in the morning.”
He’s worse than Hoyt when it comes to bossy/grumpy. With a shake of his head, Teague picked up his jacket, took one long look at Hoyt, who seemed to be sleeping comfortably, and then left, barely nodding when Tony said “Good night.”
* * * *
Chapter 12
When Teague arrived at Hoyt’s house at nine the next morning, Tony let him in and then went straight into the kitchen. From the aroma, Teague thought the man was probably fixing bacon and eggs.
Hoyt was still in the recliner, looking much better than he had the previous evening. As soon as he saw Teague he smiled in relief. At first Teague thought it was because Hoyt was more than ready to have Tony leave, and said so quietly after pulling over a chair to sit beside Hoyt.
“Well…partly,” Hoyt admitted. “But more because you’re here at all. I was afraid you’d head home after what you said yesterday.”
Teague shrugged. “I considered it, until I met Tony. I know you well enough now to get that the two of you would spend more time butting heads than anything else. You’re too similar. As for having someone around during the day, which he threatened…”
“Yeah, that’s not happening. I’m capable of doing for myself once I’m dressed.” Hoyt grimaced. “Maybe I’ll just wear what I have on until I can get rid of the brace.”
“You do and no one will want to get within ten feet of you by tomorrow.”
“Are you saying I stink,” Hoyt said in mock horror.
“Not yet, but you will because I don’t think showering is an option for a while yet.”
“It’s not,” Tony said, coming into the room with two plates of food that he set down on the coffee table. “Okay, on your feet, Hoyt. Breakfast is ready.”
