Shadow of Doubt (A Kali O'Brien legal mystery) (37 page)

“Only if they think to look. And that’s a risk I’m willing to take. I doubt I’ll be on their list of suspects. Especially when I tell them how Cheryl called here last night, hysterical and overwrought, threatening Jack if he didn’t change her grades. He’s always said she was unstable and given to irrational behavior.”

Cheryl leaped to her feet. “You’re the one who’s nuts!” she screamed. “You’re a sick, wicked, twisted old woman.”

She started for Marlene, who turned and hurled the gas can at Cheryl, soaking her blouse and hair with gasoline. When Cheryl stopped to wipe the liquid from her face, Marlene stepped away and reached for the blow torch. I immediately dived for Marlene. And the dog leapt for me, sinking his teeth into the flesh of my arm.

“Run!” I yelled to Cheryl.

But instead of running, she grabbed the poker and smashed it across the dog’s head. He turned on her, and she whacked him again.

Snarling and frothing at the mouth, the dog crouched, ready to spring. His hind feet had barely left the ground when a shot rang out. The dog yelped and fell short. A second shot put an end to the yelping.

Like a precision drill team, we all three turned and stared in astonishment at the figure in the doorway. The portly highway patrol officer stared back, as stunned as the rest of us.

Finally he returned his gun to its holster. He scratched his cheek and asked, “That smashed up BMW out front belong to any of you ladies?”

Chapter 29

Daryl Benson was dumping a twin pack of sugar into a Styrofoam cup when I flopped into the seat across from him.

“You want some?” he asked, nodding to the cup.

I shook my head. Not if I had any hope of getting to sleep that night. They’d given me a painkiller at the hospital and warned me it would make me drowsy. That had been an hour ago, and I was still wound up tight. I could feel the adrenaline flowing like an electric current.

“Your arm going to be okay?”

“Yeah. Just sore for a while.” Like nearly every other part of my body. But at least Marlene had been conscientious about Von Baron’s shots. Rabies was one thing I didn’t have to worry about.

Benson nodded, then introduced me to the woman seated to my left. “Abigail Roberts,” he said, “investigator with the juvenile division.”

“Call me Abbey,” she said as we shook hands. She had short dark hair and a wide mouth capped with dimples. She didn’t look much older than a juvenile herself.

“Abigail’s just come from talking with Cheryl,” Benson explained.

“How’s she doing?”

“Pretty well,” Abbey said. “She’s a gutsy kid. Even in the face of what happened tonight, she was able to give us a straightforward account, from beginning to end. One that showed quite a bit of insight for a girl so young. There’s a woman from social welfare with her now. She’ll have a better idea of how well Cheryl’s going to handle all this, but it’s my guess that with some counseling she’ll come through okay.”

I thought about the frail frame hunched close against me in the back seat of the police car, about the smile that came out of nowhere when I gave her arm a gentle squeeze. I thought she’d be okay too, but I’d keep my fingers crossed just the same.

“How about Marlene?” I asked Benson. “Did she admit to killing Eddie?”

“Not in so many words, but she gave us quite a lot before she clammed up and asked to see her attorney. What we’ve got is almost as good as a confession. I don’t anticipate any problems.”

“Have you been able to figure out what happened exactly?”

Benson took a sip of his coffee. “We’ve had to piece things together based on her story and what you and Cheryl told us. But it looks like Eddie had begun to suspect what was going on with Peterson, and confronted him with it. Peterson, of course, denied everything. Cheryl denied it too, at first. But when she discovered that Peterson had been involved with a number of girls, everything changed.”

Abbey broke in here, speaking softly, her face clouded.
 
“You can imagine how Cheryl felt — hurt, angry, betrayed. And above all else, ashamed. She said she thought about killing herself. I suspect she might have followed through except for the fact that Eddie Marrero had already broached the subject with her, and he was someone she felt comfortable talking with.”

“So she went to Eddie and told him everything,” I said, thinking that, in itself, took a fair amount of courage.

Benson nodded and picked up the story. “She went to Eddie, who in turn went, again, to Peterson. This time, though, it wasn’t mere speculation; Eddie said he had proof of what had been going on. I don’t know what Peterson’s reaction was initially, but when he discovered the photographs were missing, he assumed Eddie had taken them, and he panicked. He called Eddie Saturday morning, and they agreed to meet. Marlene was worried that her husband would go along with whatever Eddie suggested. She followed them, apparently surprising both men, and killed Eddie.”

“Peterson wasn’t in on it, then?”

“Not in the beginning, it seems, but of course he knew what Marlene had done, and he went along with it.”

“I suppose it was easy for her to get Jannine’s gun,” I said, thinking aloud. “She’s in and out of the house all the time.”

“That’s the point where she stopped talking to us, but only after she’d admitted dropping by their house Friday night. The Marreros were apparently having a party, and she’d promised to bake brownies.”

I nodded. I remembered Jannine saying that Jack and Marlene hadn’t been able to attend because Jack had come down with the flu. In retrospect, I could see that it wasn’t the flu that had kept them away, but a bad case of nerves.

“What amazes me,” I said, “is that Marlene could so readily overlook all that Jack had done, and then go off the deep end because he was willing to admit it was wrong.”

“It’s hard to figure, but it’s not the first time I’ve run into something like this. I don’t know if she fully understood what was going on, or if she’d deluded herself into believing that Cheryl was the instigator, kind of a combination of
Lolita
and
Fatal Attraction.
To listen to her, she certainly seems to believe Jack was guiltless.”

“It’s not uncommon,” Abbey said, nodding in agreement. “People see what they want to see, and that’s especially true in issues of sexual abuse. The offenders are often happily married, pillars of the community. The wives simply don’t want to know. They either look the other way or fabricate some story which makes it all acceptable.”

“What about the other girls? None of them told anybody?”

“We haven’t talked with them,” Abby said, “so we don’t know that for sure, but it’s a good guess they didn’t. Peterson’s type picks on the misfits, kids on the edge of the crowd, kids in need. And he fills that need. Seduction can be a pretty powerful weapon. Cheryl admits he never forced her. At least that’s the way she sees it. Of course, we know that physical force isn’t the only way to gain control. All she saw, though, was the attention, the charm, the appeal of being loved. Peterson made her feel important and special. That’s pretty hard for anyone to turn away from, especially a kid who’s never found much in the way of love elsewhere.”

Abbey paused for a moment frowning. “Then, too, there’s the intimidation factor. Peterson convinced her that if she said anything, nobody would believe her. She would be the one in trouble. He held all the cards, don’t forget.”

“But Cheryl did tell someone finally.” I noted.

Abbey nodded. “That took a great deal of trust on her part. And when Eddie didn’t call as he’d promised, she panicked and ran away, afraid she’d been betrayed once again.”

“Peterson’s probably been getting away with stuff like this for years,” Benson said.

“For years? And nobody knew?”

“We haven’t had time to check into it, but he fits the pattern of someone with a history of sex offenses. He’s moved around a lot, changed jobs. I’d be surprised if this is the first time.”

Abbey nodded. “It happens more often than you’d believe.”

She stood to leave, and I stood, too.

“Stay a minute, why don’t you?” Benson said, addressing me.

I gave Abbey my phone number in case she wanted to get in touch, then sat down again. There was a moment of silence.

“About your car,” Benson began. “You want to press charges?”

I shook my head.

“I figured as much.” He rocked back in his chair. “We’ll have it towed to a shop for you. They ought to be able to tell you whether it can be salvaged. You’ll have to check with your insurance company, see what they’ll cover in a case like this. Technically it’s a stolen car, and you can identify the thief.”

I hoped they’d cover enough to get me out from under my payments. I was beginning to think I wasn’t destined to own a BMW.

Benson pressed his fingertips together and then his lips. He watched me for a moment in silence. “I’ve been thinking about what you said the other day, about Eddie getting money from your father.”

I waited while Benson locked and then unlocked his fingers.

“I think I’ve got some idea what it might have been about. It’s just conjecture, though, understand?”

I nodded.

“I don’t even know whether I should be telling you this, but I suspect you’ve a right to the truth. Maybe it will help you make peace with the past.”

I nodded again, this time in encouragement.

He dropped his hands to his desk and sat upright. “I think your father may have seen it as a way to get back at George Marrero. He told me, just a couple of days before he died, that he’d had a chance to, in his words, stick another burr under George’s saddle.”

I was confused. “I didn’t think they even knew each other.”

“Strictly speaking, they didn’t. But your father blamed George for your mother’s death. He blamed himself, too, of course, but lately he’d become obsessed with the idea that George was ultimately responsible.”

“I don’t understand. Did my
mother
know George?” Benson shook his head. “It’s complicated.” He hesitated before continuing. “I don’t know if you remember, but your mother was in an automobile accident a couple of months before she died.”

I did remember, vaguely. “No one was hurt though, right?”

“Right. It was George who was driving the other car. He had been drinking and ran a stop sign. Your mother’s car was a mess, but she escaped with only a few minor bruises.” He paused and took a deep breath. “Soon after she became seriously depressed, ultimately taking her own life. Over the years your father became convinced that her depression and suicide stemmed from the accident. There was nothing he could do legally, but he took every opportunity to cause George trouble. It may not have been rational, but to him it was very real.”

There was something about his tone of voice that brought me up short. I had the feeling there was more to the story than he’d told me. “You don’t think her suicide was related to the accident though.”

“Not directly.” Benson ran his tongue over his bottom lip, then stared up at the ceiling. “This is the hard part, Kali.” He took another deep breath. “Your mother was . . . well, I was in love with her. I guess you’d say we had an affair, although I don’t like that word. It sounds so crass. And what we had together was . . . well, it was more about laughter and long conversations and picnics in the grass than sex, although I won’t deny the latter was part of it.”

I swallowed and struggled to find words. “Did my father know about this?”

“No. He knew she wasn’t happy in their marriage, but I don’t think he was aware she was involved with someone else.”