Crooked House (9 page)

He did it here, Robert thought
. This was the very spot. Looking up at the beam above his head he felt coldly certain that here, like an unreliable pendulum, James Crook had swung from the end of a rope, his body rocking, the rope creaking against the wood, his weight eventually falling still, bloating and rotting and turning the liver colors of putrefaction as it awaited discovery. This was the very spot. Of that he had no doubt.

Yes, he thought
. It was here. All those miles paced on this floor had led to right here.

December 19

Six Alka-Seltzers, four Motrin, and about a gallon of iced tea hadn’t even put a dent in Jay Carroll’s hangover. His stomach felt like it’d been tied in knots. His throat burned. His head wouldn’t quit throbbing. And to make all that worse, he’d been forced to get up at seven in the goddamned morning, squeeze into a suit that made him feel like he was basting in his own juices, and come down here to downtown Gainesville for some abuse from Mr. Thomas Kraft, a.k.a. Major Fucking Prick, a.k.a. His Mama’s lawyer.

The man was trying to tell him something, but it barely penetrated the throbbing in Jay’s ears
. He said: “Wait, just hold on a second. Why do we have to do all this crap? Can’t you just take her to court or something?”

Mr. Kraft, who was tall and gaunt and wore his blue suit like
he’d been born for it, sighed heavily. He put his pen down on his legal pad and adjusted the gold-rimmed glasses on his nose.

“That’s what I’ve been trying to explain to you, Jay.”

Jay bristled. His friends called him Jay. The chicks he went out with called him Jay. That was cool. But when old jackasses like Kraft here called him by his first name it felt like he was being talked down to, like they thought he was trash. He didn’t appreciate that.

“You need to establish paternity before any court will hear your case
. Until you do that, you’ll get no closer to any sort of custody agreement. Simply put, Jay, you need firm, medically reliable testing to prove that Angela is your daughter.”

Jay closed his eyes and pressed his fingers to his temples
. His head was throbbing again, and this time it was bad enough he had to steady himself in his chair. Christ, no more fucking Jagermeister. It was a kid’s drink anyway. He was too old to be slamming that shit like he’d done last night. The coke hadn’t helped either. He’d rolled in to Kraft’s office not ten minutes ago, showered and shaved but still smelling like booze and strippers, and now he was having to process all this legal crap. It made him want to scream.

“Just tell me what we’re supposed to do,” Jay said.

“Well, as I mentioned, your first order of business is to get a blood test from the child. We’ll compare her blood test to yours and that should settle paternity.”

“Okay, then send her a letter or something
. Send a cop out and make her give us a blood test.”

“We’ve sent letters.”

“And?”

“The child’s mother, Mrs.
Sarah Bell, hasn’t responded to any of our letters to date.”

“Well, there you go!” Jay said
. “Can’t you put her in contempt or something?”

“I’m afraid not
. She’s under no legal obligation to comply with our request.”

Jay shook his head in frustration
. Sarah, goddamned Sarah, turning her back on him again. He’d dated her for about six months back in the late ‘90s, back when he was living in New York. He met her in a strip club called The Wild Horse, where she waited tables and did a little turn behind the bar now and then. Even danced for a few months, and that had been a huge turn on for him. He got a kick out of bringing his buddies into the club and watching their faces as they watched her dance. It made him feel like he owned something precious, something they all wanted but only he could have.

Jay had been about sixty pounds lighter then
. No gray hair. He’d still had that football player build he’d earned in high school. He’d been a good-looking guy, too. Even did a little acting. Three beer commercials and one for a Japanese lawn mower manufacturer by the time he hooked up with Sarah. Ecstasy was all over the New York men’s clubs back in the late ‘90s, and Sarah was nuts for the stuff. He’d show up to the club about thirty minutes before closing time, hand her a little pink pill, and by the time they cleared out she was ready to tear his pants off with her teeth. It’d been a wild six months that was for damn sure.

But then she’d gotten pregnant with Angela, and all that changed
. It was the freakiest thing he’d ever seen. He knew lots of people who talked about going straight, even knew a few who’d managed it for a year or two, and were miserable the whole time. But he’d never seen anyone really do it for good.

Except
Sarah.

And it happened practically overnight
. She quit the club, moved to a new apartment, and changed her number. Totally turned her back on the life she’d been living, the people she’d known. Including him. She’d already been working part-time at that college, but after she got pregnant, she went to full-time.

Probably never gave him a second thought, either.

That was the part that really got under his skin. He hadn’t cared two licks that she’d gotten pregnant. Hell, that dumb ass college guy she was dating was welcome to get saddled with a kid if that’s what he wanted.

So that wasn’t it.

It was the idea of her just turning her back on him, leaving him at the curb like he was something nasty she’d stepped in.

That pissed him off.

But then, as luck would have it, she married that college guy and moved to Florida...not thirty miles from his Mama’s house.

The years since they’d dated had been good for
Sarah. She and that college guy had even moved to some mansion in San Antonio. Huge place too, at least from the pictures his Mama’s private detectives had showed him.

For him, not so much though
. Ten years of hard drinking and tons of dope had done their work on him. A little more each year, he’d put on weight, muscle turning to flab. His dad, never an assertive man, had been content to let Jay dip into the family’s money whenever he needed it, which was pretty much all the time. But then, four years ago, his father died, leaving Mama on her own.

And his Mama and his Daddy were definitely cut from different cloth
. She was a force of nature, a worker, someone who believed handouts made people lazy and morally bankrupt. Earlier that summer she’d called him to the table. Her detectives had been following him around, tracking how he spent her money. She knew about the drinking and the drugs and the whores. She knew all of it, and Jay had thrown himself on her mercy.

Or pretended to at any rate.

He’d sworn up and down that he would come clean, get sober, whatever the hell she wanted. He’d go to treatment, he’d do it cold turkey, just as long as she didn’t cut him off.

But Mama Carroll was no fool
. She knew his promises were little more than piss in the wind, and she told him as much. And, she added, she didn’t much care. She had washed her hands of what he did. He was welcome to booze himself to death if that’s what he wanted to do. But there was one thing she did want, and that was to have her granddaughter close to her.

And what his Mama wanted, she got.

“See,” she told him, “I’m dying.”

That made him listen.

“Oh, don’t get your hopes up yet. I have a few years still,” she said. “The doctors are telling me eight, maybe ten good years, with the medication they’ve got now. But I want to see my granddaughter before I go. I want to know her before the Alzheimer’s turns my brain to Swiss cheese. The idea of family may not mean all that much to you, but it does to me.”

If her words were meant to sting him, they hadn’t
. All that really registered with Jay was the fact that he’d stay flush with cash if he brought Angela back into his Mama’s life.

And that meant getting custody.

And that meant dealing with Mr. Thomas Kraft, Mama’s lawyer.

Jay rallied and focused
. To Kraft, he said:  “Okay, if she doesn’t have to cooperate, how do we do it?”

“There are other ways around a refusal
. We can demonstrate your emotional distress, for example. That’s a longer process, but in the end it’ll get us a blood test.” Kraft stopped there, took off his glasses, and polished them with a silk hanky. The two men watched each other for a long moment before Kraft spoke again. “May I ask you a personal question, Jay?”

“Sure, shoot.”

“Do you really want to get custody of this little girl?”

“What the hell kind of question is that?”

“A necessary one, I think. One that you will have to answer to the mirror before you can answer it before a judge.”

“I’ll tell you what,”
Jay said. “How about this? How about you do your job, the job my mom is paying you for, and I’ll do my part. Just get that kid back for me and everybody’ll be happy.”

“Perhaps,” Kraft said doubtfully
. “But you see, my concern is this: I’m also a father. I’ve adopted three children, Jay. Did you know that? I know firsthand everything that’s involved in taking a child into your life. I know the joy, the heartbreak, the long nights with no sleep, the constant commitment to the child’s welfare. There’s no time off, no vacations from that responsibility. I know how much of a sacrifice it is, and I also know how glorious the love between a father and his children can be. And I wonder if you have any idea how much of a life change you’re taking on.”

“I know what I’m doing.”

Kraft studied him for a long moment. “You’re sure about that?”

“Why wouldn’t I be
? I told you I am.”

“It says in your file that you’re not currently employed.”

Jay stood up. “We’re done here, I think.”

Kraft looked like he wanted to say more, but then seemed to reconsider
. “As you wish. I’ll continue efforts on my end and I’ll keep you informed.”

Jay walked out
. Down in his truck, he lit a cigarette and blew smoke angrily at the windshield. That fucking prick, he thought. And Sarah, the little bitch was turning her back on him again.

Well, he knew how to fix that
. Can’t compel her cooperation my ass.

On the seat next to him was a Fed Ex envelope
. Jay tilted the envelope over and caught the VCR tape that slid out. It was a gift from a friend of his from back in his acting days in New York. The guy was doing porn now, and he had some contacts in the business. The tape, the friend had told him, was from a small independent studio that was out of business now. Had been for years. He was lucky to find it.

Jay smiled and slid it back into the envelope
. Yeah, lucky indeed.

What did Kraft say about there being other ways around a refusal?

Well, Kraft had his ways.

And Jay had his.

*

In the master bedroom of Crook House
Sarah woke to morning sunlight on the foot of the bed. All the orange in here was beautiful, and the bed, this huge bed, was a joy. So soft, like swimming in covers. But it didn’t feel like
her
bed. None of this felt like hers. It was like waking in a hotel. She came up from sleep so suddenly that for a moment the bed, the room, the house, all of it, seemed alien and hostile, and it frightened her. This house felt wrong. She didn’t like it, even though she knew that Robert did.

Where was he anyway?

She pulled the covers up to her chin, feeling profoundly tired, exhausted to her bones. Odd as she felt in this house, in this bed, she thought she could stay asleep all –

A piercing shriek
cut her thought off clean.

The shrieking came again, loud and echoing, angry-sounding.

Angela, she thought, and threw the sheets off as she jumped from the bed and ran toward the stairs. She called for her daughter as she ran, her shouts filling the house, even as the angry shrieks echoed back to her.

Angela’s door was closed.

Sarah tried the knob, and when it wouldn’t open, she began to beat on the door.

“Angela, it’s Mommy
. Open the door!”

Inside, someone was screaming
. It was an angry, blood-curdling sound, and not Angela. Someone was in there with her. The realization twisted her gut, and she shook the door with all her strength, screaming her daughter’s name, tears running down her face.

“Angela, please, open the door
. Open this door now!”

She kicked it
.

It didn’t budge.

“Damn it.”

She backed away from it, her eyes wide with terror, her whole body trembling, her breaths coming in rapid, ragged pants.

Robert, she thought. He could break it down.