by Ellen Hart
“Mickler’s idea was for the three of us to carry Sam there. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t let go of him. It’s so long ago now, and I can’t recall my exact thoughts, but I do know part of me wanted to die. Mickler had to drag me away from him. He actually had to uncoil my fingers from Sam’s clothing. He told me to run, to make sure I got rid of my clothes, which were covered in blood. I remember standing up, watching Mickler and Dave carry him away. I couldn’t move. I could hardly breathe. I sank to the ground, buried my hands in the dirt, and cried. And then—I have no idea how long I stayed there—I ran home. Mickler said we’d meet up later to talk about it. When we did, he had another choice threat. He said if I ever said anything about what happened, I might not get hurt, but someone I loved would. He left it hanging in the air like that, then moved on to some self-serving crap about how we all needed to stick together. We’d done something truly terrible, but we had to move on to salvage what was left of our lives. He said Sam would have wanted that. I hated him more in that moment than I’d ever hated anyone in my life—before or since.”
Sitting back down on the log next to Jane, Kurt continued, “Life resumed. Classmates wondered where Sam had gone, and I did a lot of shrugging. I also spent a bunch of time that fall in the bathroom, dousing my face with water and smiling at myself in the mirror. I had to practice because it was like I’d forgotten how. Most days, my face felt like concrete.”
Kurt squeezed his hands together and looked off into the woods. “This was what I thought happened. Dave shot Sam and he died. But then, this morning, I learned something that changed everything. Saltus told me that both of the revolvers had been loaded with blanks.”
Jane already knew as much, but hadn’t seen any point in mentioning it.
“So, for the last couple of hours, I’ve been asking myself, if the revolvers had no actual bullets in them, how did Sam die? There’s only one answer. I didn’t know Mickler all that well, but I did know he liked guns. He brought a rifle with a big, expensive scope to a party once—a month or so before the one at the farm. He seemed so proud of the thing, he couldn’t stop touching it. I always gave him a wide berth because I thought he was sort of shady, and this was just one more reason.”
When Kurt looked down and stopped talking, Jane prompted him, asking him what he thought had happened.
“It was Mickler. I’m sure of it. He’d run into the woods saying he was sick, but that was only a ruse. He must have had the rifle stashed somewhere. He took up a position, sighted Sam through the scope, and on the count of three, fired. I figure he relied on the fact that I was so jumpy and otherwise crazed that I wouldn’t notice. He was right. Like I said, it was just one huge, loud bang. Instead of a duel, Mickler and Dave had pulled off an assassination.”
By the end of the telling, Kurt’s voice had grown hoarse.
“I don’t know what to say,” said Jane softly. “I can’t imagine living through something like that.”
Wiping a hand over his eyes, he said, “The whole duel idea was idiotic from the outset, but Mickler, in his Machiavellian way, used it to put a lid on the rape. Becca wouldn’t talk. Sam was dead. He knew Sam was going to ask me to be his second, so my participation in the duel effectively silenced me. With one shot from a rifle, Mickler had given Dave back his life and, in the process, provided himself with a little light entertainment.”
“You really think he’s that evil?”
Kurt turned to face her. He didn’t need to say it out loud. The answer was in his eyes.
When Jane’s cell phone rang, she jumped. She pulled it from her pocket to see who was calling, but didn’t recognize the number. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I should have turned this off. Would you mind if I took it?”
“Go ahead.”
She said hello.
“Jane?”
“Yes?”
“Monty Mickler, the manager at the Avalon Motor Inn. Say, I’ve spoken with my assistant manager and apparently the man who’d requested unit one won’t be able to make the trip after all. I would be happy to rent it to your friend for tomorrow night and Saturday night—as long as she understands that the room doesn’t have all the standard amenities.”
“That’s welcome news,” said Jane. “None of that will be a problem.”
“Excellent. Oh, and you can pick up the key anytime. You think she’ll be arriving around ten?”
“I talked to her this morning, and yes, that’s the plan.”
“Did you mention you’d talked to me?”
“No, should I have?”
“No, no. If I’m not here when you stop by, you can get the key from my assistant manager.”
“Thanks again,” said Jane.
“You’re more than welcome.” He cut the line.
“Sorry for the interruption,” she said to Kurt.
“Sounds like good news.”
“It is.” Maybe for both of them. “Will you tell Emma what you just told me?”
“Yeah, after the reunion meeting tonight. Wish me luck. I’m not sure she’ll ever speak to me again after she finds out what I did.”
“I don’t think you did anything,” said Jane, “except try to help the man you loved. As you said, you couldn’t change his mind.”
“Seems pretty weak though, doesn’t it? I should have done something.”
They sat in silence for a few minutes, each absorbed by their own thoughts.
Finally, leaning back, Jane said, “I want you to know that I appreciate the trust you’ve placed in me.”
“Just nail those two bastards.”
“I’m working as hard as I can. This will help.” She wanted to tell him what she had planned, but because she had no idea if it would work, she couldn’t. Even so, he seemed more at peace now that he’d told someone the truth. She had to be satisfied with that.
35
Over the course of the afternoon, Dave tried to call Kurt at least five times. Each call was sent immediately to voice mail. Finding a few minutes between a traffic stop and the visit with Monty he’d been putting off, he stopped by Kurt’s house. His kid answered the door and said his dad wasn’t around. Six strikeouts was enough for one day. Kurt wasn’t stupid. By now, he’d put together what had really happened to Sam. Dave was left with nothing to do except hope Kurt realized his silence implicated him as much as Dave and Monty. He’d left several messages to that effect.
The Avalon Motor Inn’s parking lot usually emptied out at dinnertime, as guests went off in search of food and entertainment. It was just after six when Dave parked his car in front of room 1. He found Monty in the back office, his feet up on a footstool, watching Fox News. “Hey, man,” he said. A stack of clean towels rested on the only other chair. Dave had to move them over to the desk before he could sit down. “I’ve got some news, none of it good.”
“You’re just full of sweetness and light these days, man.”
“You said you wanted me to keep you informed.”
“And I do.” Monty picked up the remote and turned the TV off. “I’ve got some news, too, except I can’t tell you about it just yet.”
Dave wasn’t in the mood for Monty’s games. “Saltus interviewed Kurt Steiner this morning.”
“I thought your chief told you to do it.”
“No, he said Saltus should do it, but that I should sit in. Not that it helped. Saltus had some information I didn’t know about. Get this: Sam and Kurt were homos. Kurt still is. It’s mind-blowing.”
In reaction, all Monty did was raise an eyebrow.
“Saltus told him about the blanks. It came out of his mouth so fast, I couldn’t stop him.”
“So Kurt knows?”
“I’m not positive, but he’s not stupid. He probably put it together.”
“But he didn’t say anything to Saltus?”
“Not yet.”
“If he goes to the cops, it implicates him, too,” said Monty. “He won’t. He’s too interested in maintaining his good name. Mr. Famous Sensitive P
oet and all that.”
Dave wished he could be so sure. “Maybe you should talk to him. I’ve tried. He won’t answer my calls.”
“Is that all?” asked Monty, checking his watch.
“You got an appointment or something?”
“The wife took the kids to Rowdy’s Hamburger Shack for dinner. When they’re done, she’s dropping a Triple Cheeseburger off for me.”
Dave could feel his stomach growl. The fact that he could eat at times like this amazed him. “Okay, I’ll make this quick. We found Carli Gilbert’s car yesterday morning.”
“That right. And?”
“And,” said Dave, “I need to know why you did it. Why you murdered her.” He could tell Monty was having a hard time figuring out how to arrange his face.
“Why on earth would you think I had anything to do with her death?”
“I found one of your green cans in the backseat.”
He laughed. “You think I’m the only one who drinks that stuff?”
“I’ve been in every grocery and convenience store within a seventy-five-mile radius of Castle Lake and I’ve never seen one for sale. Don’t try to bullshit me, okay? Your prints on the can will prove it.”
Monty considered this. “Okay, well, so maybe I did do it. But you gotta understand, bro. I never wanted to hurt her. I loved her—or at least I did once upon a time. You remember when I told you Sarah and I were headed for divorce? I was so screwed up that I started looking at other women. I’m not proud of it, and I’m not using that as an excuse, but I was lonely and frustrated. I thought I’d lost Sarah, and I not only wanted to hurt her, but I needed someone in my life. Carli was there for me, Dave. She was such a good listener. One night, we’d been drinking tequila shots, I let it all hang out. Maybe … maybe I told her things I shouldn’t have.”
He’d figured it was something like that.
“Not everything, but enough, yeah. I didn’t think it mattered because we loved each other. I figured when Sarah and I split, I’d move on to Carli. It was hard to end it with her. She was such a wonderful woman. But a few weeks ago, I had to tell her we were done. I couldn’t cheat on Sarah any longer. Let’s just say, she didn’t take it well. And then when Sam’s remains were found last Sunday, she threw it in my face, said she should go to the cops with what she knew. I mean, I couldn’t let that happen, could I? My choice was to either continue the relationship with a sword hanging over my head, or … or Carli would have to go.”
Monty was usually too smart to make such a stupid mistake, but when he drank, his good sense deserted him.
“So, what are we gonna do?” asked Monty. “Is there any way you can help me out? I’m not sure what I’d do if some DA put the screws to me. You’re stronger than I am, Dave. I’ve always relied on your strength.”
Monty’s tone changed when he wanted something. His usual confidence would disappear. True, Dave owed Monty his freedom, so the stuff he’d done over the years to keep Monty out of jail seemed justified. And yet, no matter how many times Dave pleaded with him to change his ways, he never did.
“So, can you help me?” asked Monty.
“I’ll do what I can.”
“You’re the man.”
“I wish I knew what makes you tick.”
“Yeah? What’s that mean?”
“Sometimes, it’s like … I don’t understand you at all.”
“You and me, Dave, we’re closer than brothers. It’s what that Bible verse says, where David talks about his friend Jonathan. He said their feelings surpassed the love of women.”
“Huh?”
Hearing the bell jingle over the front door, Monty got up.
“Better shove off,” said Dave. “I just wish I understood you better. Like, what makes you happy.” He headed for the door.
Stopping Dave and turning him around, Monty stood with his hand on the doorknob. He kissed Dave on the cheek, letting his lips linger.
Dave backed up until he hit the wall.
“Power makes me happy, man. Simple as that. Are we communicating now? We love each other. You tell me that all the time. Except you love me more. Understand? Is that simple enough for you?” Opening the door, he walked out into the front office, where both of his sons raced up to wrap their arms around his legs.
Dave nodded to Sarah as he skirted around the counter and made a hasty exit. He stood outside the office for a few seconds, wondering what the hell had just happened.
His cell phone rang. Glancing at it, he saw that it was his girlfriend.
“Hey, Paula,” he said, his voice sounding a tad strangled.
“Hey, yourself. I was just at the grocery store and found two beautiful rib eyes on sale. Don’t suppose you’re free for dinner tonight.”
“Um, sure, I could be.”
“I’ve got baked potatoes ready to go into the oven, and salad fixings. I’m sure there’s still some of that thousand island dressing you like in the fridge. Are we on?”
Her home was forty-five miles away. “Give me an hour.”
“Can you stay the night?”
“Don’t see why not.”
“Perfect, baby. See you in sixty.”
As Dave slid into the front seat of his SUV, his thoughts continued to pinball around his tired brain. Monty had never spoken to him like that before. He sensed that something big had just gone down between them, but for the life of him, he wasn’t sure what it was. Maybe in the next hour he could figure it out.
36
Jane and Leslie followed a young woman to a table next to a brightly painted wall in the Red Fez restaurant. As they sat down, Jane said, “Boy, I’m glad you made reservations.”
Leslie glanced around. “I’ve never seen the place so packed. It’s probably because of homecoming—and the reunion. We often have special events going on in town on weekends, especially in the summer and early fall, but this is unusual.”
They had to shout to be heard.
“Must mean the word-of-mouth on this place is good,” said Jane.
Leslie gazed at her a bit too long, looking a little too happy.
“Careful. People will notice.”
“I don’t care. You look beautiful tonight.”
Jane rarely blushed, but she did now. “I’ll give you my thoughts on how you look later. In private.”
Leslie’s smile widened. “Let’s hope the food here pleases the gourmet.”
“I’m easier to please than you might expect.” Jane was just glad they’d finally found some time to get together.
“How’s the podcast investigation going?” asked Leslie, opening the menu.
“It’s picking up. I got a text right before I left the lake house. My producer is pretty pleased with what I’ve been digging up.”
“Anything you care to share?”
“Not at the moment. But I will, when I can.”
Jane was starting to feel a bit anxious about what she’d set in motion. Before arriving at the restaurant, she’d stopped by the motel to pick up the room key. Monty had been in the middle of a heated conversation with an annoyed customer, which meant she didn’t have to answer any probing questions about Becca.
“Oh, they have the couscous tfaya tonight,” said Leslie. “It’s lamb with these sweet, spicy caramelized onions and raisins. The tagines are also good. One tagine serves two. They bring the clay pot right to the table.”
Jane wished the noise level wasn’t quite so loud. Shouting wasn’t a good way to conduct an intimate conversation.
“You thinking what I’m thinking?” asked Leslie.
“Should we order our food to go?”
That elicited another smile.
As they decided on what to get, a large figure loomed over the table.
“Cordelia,” said Jane, glancing up. “What are you doing here?”
“Oh, you know, I was in the neighborhood.”
“Nice to see you again,” said Leslie, smiling at her. “Listen, Jane, I need to use the restroom. On my way b
ack, I’ll put in our order.”
Jane waited for Cordelia to sit down on the chair Leslie had just vacated. “You’re wearing a red fez.”
“When in Rome,” she said, “Or in this case, Casablanca. I’d sing a few bars of ‘As Time Goes By,’ but you wouldn’t be able to hear me.”
“Where’d you get it?”
“Where else? My trunk.”
“Do you always travel with a red fez?”
“Not always, but often. Why is this only a table for two?”
“Because there are only two of us having dinner.”
“But what about me? You knew I was coming.”
“I did?”
“You asked me to give you my official take on Leslie. I am, after all, very experienced in these matters. We wouldn’t want to have another Julia situation on our hands, would we?” She pulled the menu over and began perusing it. “I had to park half a mile away. That was one long walk. I don’t suppose they serve black-cherry soda.”
“I doubt it.”
“Blather. Have you ordered us any wine?”
“I’m sorry, Cordelia, I really didn’t realize you were coming tonight.”
“You asked me to. I said I would.”
“Yeah, but … the thing is. Leslie is a wonderful person.”
“Yet to be determined.”
“No, I mean, I think you can trust my judgment on this one. Besides, we’re not even dating—officially.”
“Come on, Janey. I saw the way you were looking at each other.”
It was an argument she wasn’t going to win. “Look, whatever our relationship is, or turns out to be, Leslie and I have decided to order our food to go. It’s too loud in here to talk.”
