“Until we reached your neighbor,” Fred glowered.
“That idiot Nottoway invited us in for punch,” Karen fumed. “He wouldn't shut up. Jesus this and Jesus that. I had to promise to go to his church before he'd let us go.”
“I didn't realize the Methodists were so…evangelical.” Ari gave her a drunken, angelic smile.
“What's your problem?” Karen glanced about the bare living and dining rooms. “You haven't gotten any furniture yet? Where can I put this?” She waved her wig and glasses. He led her into the kitchen and pointed at the table. "This is still all you've got?"
"As you see."
She glanced at the dirty sink, then went down the hall and poked her head in the bathroom.
"Well at least you keep your kitty litter box clean," said Karen, coming back into the kitchen.
"I only have two chairs," said Ari.
"That's all right," said Fred, leaning against the counter.
"You've been crying," said Karen. "It's obvious."
Ari did not answer.
"Didn't you see the news this morning, Karen?" said Fred, practicing a sneer. "They executed his fearless leader in Baghdad. There's a big stink. Someone secretly filmed the hanging. Caught Saddam yelling, the executioners cursing at him...really fun stuff. Our government wants to know how the Iraqis could put something like that on the air."
Karen looked at Ari with near horror. "You were crying over that son of a bitch?"
"You wouldn't understand," said Ari in a tight voice.
"I would hope not."
"I was thirteen when he became president, but he was the leader long before that, and everyone knew it. When I was a child, one day…” Ari looked down.
“You look like shit, but I didn't realize you were thinking shit, too.” Pulling a gun out from under her jacket, Karen sat at the table, across from Ari. "You want to wait outside, Fred? I have some personal things I want to discuss with Ari here. I can take care of myself."
Fred looked doubtful.
"Go on," Karen persisted.
"All right, but I'm keeping the front door open."
"If you think you need to."
Karen heard the front door open, waited a moment, then leaned forward. "How the hell do you know my name?"
"An old high school classmate of yours told me."
"Who?"
"Moria Riggins."
Karen briefly thought he was making a sick joke, then a sickness of awareness caused her face to sag. "You've seen a yearbook."
"In one of your local libraries."
"I didn't even know they carried them," said Karen.
"And Tina Press was also part of the cheerleading squad."
"Yes."
"She said nothing about knowing you, and she told me she had met Moria in a shopping mall. There was no reason why she would do this, unless she knew you. She understood that if I became curious enough I might track down one of those yearbooks and see all three of you together."
"You really believe she can think that far ahead?"
"So you have kept in touch over the years and know her current situation."
Karen bit her lip at being so easily snared. She had not been prepared for this, but for something completely different. The gun said it all. She was here about Carrington.
Ari took out a cigarette.
"Would you mind not smoking?" said Karen.
"It would be considered extremely impolite in my country for you to ask me not to smoke in my own home."
"This isn't your country."
"This isn't your home." Ari lit up.
"Okay, listen, there's been some question--" Karen sneezed. Ari watched as she fussed with a Kleenex.
"Some question...?"
"About Carrington."
"You mean the detective who killed the Riggins family?" Ari blew a cloud. "That's what the newspapers say. The ballistics tests--"
"Yeah, I know. But we've heard rumors coming out of the RPD. Unofficial things."
"I don't see how there can be any questions. He felt deep remorse over what he had done and he killed himself."
"There weren't any traces of gunpowder on his hand," said Karen.
"Ah..." Ari shook his head. "Are the tests for these traces always accurate?"
"Usually. And not only that. The ground around the car was messed up when the rescue crew arrived. But it looks like there was a van of some sort parked nearby that same night."
"How near?"
"On the other side of a footbridge, about forty yards away."
"And someone saw this van?"
"It left tire marks."
"Interesting. So you think it wasn't suicide?"
"Where were you that night?"
"Here, I believe."
"Do you have anybody who can corroborate that?"
"Certainly. Jack."
"Jack who?"
"Daniels."
"I'm not talking about your current company."
Ari nodded his head in confession.
"So?"
"Karen...Miss Sandra...I know Detective Sergeant Carrington committed suicide because I'm the one who drove him to it."
The deputy’s eyes narrowed. "How did you do that?"
"I presented him with the evidence. He was a murderer. True, he only murdered one person, but about that there is no doubt."
"You sound even more pompous when you're drunk." Karen sneezed again. "Do you really have to smoke that shit around me?"
"You're free to leave."
"No..." Karen wiped her nose. "Go ahead and prove to me what an asshole you are. You already tried to strangle me. What's a little suffocation after that?"
Ari stubbed out his cigarette. "I deeply apologize for what happened--"
"When was the last time you saw Carrington?"
"Two days before he killed himself. In this house. He sat in that chair."
"And you showed him your 'evidence'."
"I convinced him that members in his own department probably knew the truth, that they were suspicious from the beginning because his investigation was so deeply flawed, and that one day he would be confronted about it by his peers."
"That's not what we're hearing."
"What you're hearing is idle speculation. The people who know the truth have no need to spread rumors. 'Justice has been served' is the curious phrase you have here. I'm satisfied that the van treads that the police found are unimportant. They could have been left there at any time."
Ari felt dizzy. He got up and went over the sink.
"Are you going to puke?"
"One moment..." He leaned over the basin until the nausea passed. "I think I'll make some tea. Would you like some?"
"What did you say to him?" Karen demanded.
Ari filled his new kettle with tapwater and placed it on the burner.
"Did Tina mention to you that Tom Massington had become convinced that he wasn't Moria's father?"
"I don't know what you're--" Karen stopped herself. She took a deep breath. "Did you put enough water in there for two cups? I think I'll have one, too. And yes, Tina mentioned it to me."
"Who do you think the real father is?" Ari added some water to the kettle.
"What? You're saying it was Carrington?"
"Tina met Tom and Heather Massington many years ago. Did you..."
"I was with Tina that day. Moria had invited us over."
"And did you ever meet Carrington?"
"No," Karen said.
"Look in the newspaper archives for a picture of Jerry and Moria accepting an award from the detective. You'll be impressed by the resemblance between father and daughter."
"Are you implying he murdered his daughter?"
Ari took a deep breath. He was going to lay out a tale that squeezed probability at both ends. But it had to be elaborate enough to keep Karen guessing.
"I believe Heather told him the baby was his. For years, he followed Moria’s childhood progress from a distance. Perhaps Heather gave him
annual updates, like the investment reports sent out to shareholders. He was the one who came to the Massington house to tell the family about the death of the son in a car accident.
"When Moria grew up and left home, he could finally play the part of doting father. He may not have thought much of Jerry. No man likes to see his daughter marry an artist. But he learned to accept him. He included Jerry in his little plaque ceremonies and was his booster for other considerations. I'm sure Detective Carrington could be very persuasive in front of an award committee. Even more persuasive when he got committee members alone in a stairwell."
“He was persuasive enough to take over the case from a lieutenant,” Karen said grimly.
“Ah.”
The kettle began to whistle. One of two cups Ari had prepared was new, bought with the possibility of a visit from Lynn in mind. But he had not yet invited her to Beach Court. While the tea steeped, he brought out a box of sugar cubes and set it on the table.
"Unfortunately, Detective Carrington had no sense of proportion. Although he had three legitimate children of his own, his affection centered on Moria. This did not present a problem while Jerry and Moria lived in the countryside. It was only when they moved back to the city that Carrington's visits became excessive."
"You don't think Moria and him..." Karen looked down at the tea Ari placed before her.
"In my country, cousins frequently marry. This results in some intense feuding within the family and between families. I'm convinced that's part of the reason for Saddam's downfall. But that's another, and much longer, story."
"With a tragic ending, according to you." Karen's mockery wilted under Ari's harsh glance. "All right, so you don't think Moria's father was bopping her."
"Not her biological father."
Karen's head shot up. "Tom Massington?"
"Mr. Massington's reaction when he found out about Moria's true parentage was extreme. It had happened over two decades ago. If he felt inclined to punish anyone, it should have been his wife, not the innocent daughter. He behaved more like a jilted lover."
"But there was Jerry."
"Whom Moria herself referred to as a 'dickless wonder'. I realize this can be interpreted as a metaphor for a general inadequacy. But it can also be seen--"
"Haven't you heard?" Karen interrupted. "Impotence doesn't exist in this country anymore. We're the Viagra nation."
"I wasn't speaking of impotence." Ari took a sip of tea. He scowled. "I want something stronger."
Karen holstered her Glock, grabbed the box of sugar, and dropped several cubes in Ari's cup. "Try a little more of this, instead. I don't want you passing out on me."
Ari nodded reluctantly and stirred his tea until the cubes dissolved.
"You think Jerry was gay?" she said after Ari had taken a sip.
"When I visited the gallery, there were two men there who were very...affectionate. I overheard one of them speak of Jerry as his 'darling'."
"A figure of speech?" Karen suggested.
"I don't think so. Look at those smudges Jerry was always painting. I believe they represented something."
"Well, I've seen my brothers' dirty underpants..."
"Exactly."
"Wait, I just meant that a lot of modern art looks like someone took a dump on canvas."
"I think those paintings symbolize the filthy male anus."
Karen smiled, burped, sneezed. She looked away for a moment, shaking her head and trying to fight down her grin. Then she looked up.
"Why don't we just agree that neither of us is an art critic and leave it at that?"
"If you wish."
Karen's grin slowly disappeared. "You're saying Joshua and William weren't Jerry's? Then who...?"
"Tom Massington's. He knew Jerry was an artistic hack. He also knew he was gay--the perfect match for his daughter and mistress. Or rather, the woman he thought was his daughter."
"Do you realize how twisted this sounds?"
"Do you think so?" Ari reached for his pack of cigarettes, then stopped. "Mr. Massington, the Tin Man. It is possible that Moria broke from him temporarily. She lived with Jerry in the countryside for awhile. But thirty miles isn't all that far. And when Tom Massington bought a house on the river and invited them to move back to the city, Jerry leapt at it."
"I thought it was..."
"You thought it was Moria's decision to come back. That was what she told you and Tina. But Jerry thought Carrington was the father of Joshua and William." Ari stopped. Karen was staring at him. "What's wrong?"
"I'm suddenly not buying into any of this," she said, trying to meet his eyes. “This is shaping up to be the kind of story that hides a thousand sins. Your sins.”
"Hear me out before you make any final conclusions." Ari took out a cigarette and lit up. "Or you may leave."
"I'm listening," Karen sneezed.
"Carrington was delighted with the move. He was now closer to his beloved daughter, Iraq."
"What?"
Ari glanced up.
"You said he was now closer to his beloved daughter, Iraq."
"I did? I mean Moria, of course." He directed a bemused smile at himself, then continued: "By your standards, Detective Carrington was corrupt. He had known about the drug trade in this neighborhood, and had probably made an occasional token arrest. But when he found out his daughter was involved, he stifled all investigation. And the irony is that she probably became involved because of him.
"Imagine. She was already under immense stress because of Tom Massington and the reality of her children by him. Her close friend Tina was a steady user, presenting a constant temptation. And she was familiar with cocaine from her high school days. 'Recreational use' I believe the term is, to remove the taint of sin."
Karen was staring at her tea. Ari went on:
"One day, Carrington brings her before a mirror and stands next to her. 'Moria, who do you think you resemble?' And then he tells her.
"Are you familiar with the Kayak Express?"
Karen shook her head.
"It has been operating in this area for quite some time. Moria probably learned about it from the Mackenzies, her neighbors. She began buying from the kayakers. I suppose the drug helped her deal with her troubles.
"I'm sure Carrington was unhappy when he found out about it. He probably lectured her mercilessly, but at the same time he took steps to protect her. And that meant protecting the Express from police interference. The kayakers became quite brazen, even firing off rockets in the middle of the river to announce their arrival.
"Jerry turned a blind eye to all of this, at first. Being the good artist that he was--or rather, being of an artistic temperament--he no doubt participated to some degree. And he believed they were safe under the protective mantle of his wife's lover, which he assumed Carrington was. But as the boys grew older he became concerned. He was actually quite a good father. One of the boys had seen them indulging, or asked him what was in the white packets, and Jerry realized he and his wife had crossed the line. It was time to return to the virtuous life. But then came the day of the comedy."
"Comedy?" Karen asked wanly.
"Of course I don't know how it happened. Possibly Jerry thought that since the boys were Carrington's, he would lend a hand in cleaning up Moria's life. And when he spoke the fatal phrase, 'After all, Joshua and William are yours,' the detective must have fallen out of his seat. 'I assumed they were yours!' he says. He had no idea Jerry was gay, or if he suspected, thought he swung both ways. After an eye-opening discussion, Carrington admits that he is Moria's father. Imagine that moment: both men staring at each other, wondering how the world could turn so sour on them. They storm up to Moria and browbeat her into telling them who the real father is."
"And you're saying things got a lot more sour?"
"That was to be expected. It dawns on Jerry how Tom Massington has used him. And poor Detective Sergeant Carrington can only think of getting his hands around Massington's throat. After all, the Tin M
an had not only committed incest with his half-daughter, he had done it fully in the belief that she was entirely his. The Massington's were probably on holiday in Italy. That's the only explanation why Carrington didn't kill Tom that day or week. By the time they got back, both men had had time to work out their only option: keeping Massington away from Moria, or at least out of her bed.
"At this point, Moria had broken. I would imagine she was saying 'to hell with men'. That included her boys, who might inherit the tendencies of the father. When Jerry confronted Massington, he reacted like a man insulted, cut off Moria's allowance, and removed her from his will. Heather was guilt-stricken, knowing as she must have what had gone on under her roof. Jerry had no doubt also told his father-in-law that Carrington was Moria's real father, and Massington used this as a weapon against his wife. She refused to disown her daughter, but I doubt there was any great affection between them.
"Emotionally, Moria felt the only thing left to her were drugs and her old school chums. Eventually, she became a dealer as well as a user. For awhile, Jerry went along with this. His last conversation with Massington had taught him a lesson. Some things were better swept under the rug. Even Carrington pulled back, doing what he could to prevent scandal for his daughter and nephews. After all, he was now happily married, with three children of his own. He had to be discreet.
"Jerry performed within his own severe limitations. His paintings were going nowhere. Almost the only income from Moria's Notions came from laundered drug money. For a year or so he acquiesced. But then, one evening, he saw Joshua with one of the baggies of cocaine. He took it away from him, not knowing there was another stashed away in the boy's bedroom.
"He knew the Kayak Express was due to make an appearance that night, and he was determined Moria should not meet it. He had not only found out about the gun Moria bought from the kayakers, he discovered where--"
Ari found himself pouring a drink. He did not remember standing or going to the counter. There were already four ounces of whiskey in his eight-ounce glass. He felt Karen's eyes on him, shrugged, and came back to the table with the glass.
"How am I suppose to believe anything I hear when you've been drinking like this?" she said as Ari took a sip. "I don't think I've ever heard of a soused Arab before."
The 56th Man Page 34
