The Butcher's Son (12 page)

“You play very well,” I said as he got up to greet me.

His handshake this time was…different somehow, even stronger than usual, and I got an odd impression of urgency.

“Thank you,” he said, as the handshake slowed to a hand-hold. “I’ve always loved music.” When we released hands, he stepped slightly past me to close the door. “Thanks for coming, Dick.”

The wooden chairs, I noticed, were cleared off, and he gestured me to a seat. We resumed our now-usual position facing one another, but this time, rather than clasping his hands lightly between the arms of the chair, Kevin put his elbows on the arms and his hands in praying position. He lowered his head slightly until his index fingers were just inside his lips, fingernails cradling his two front teeth.

Not prayer—thought.

With his head still slightly down, he looked at me, through his long eyelashes. He had me hooked, but I waited for him to speak first.

“I had a radio interview yesterday in Allen,” he began, sitting upright, hands still in the prayer position but the index fingertips now against his lower lip, tapping it lightly.

I started to ask,
How did it go?
but it was obvious it hadn’t gone well at all.

“And…?”

“And the interviewer got into some areas that both surprised and shocked me. I realized too late that he was trying to use the interview to increase his own ratings by being confrontational and obnoxious.”

“And he asked you about Patrick.”

Kevin lowered his hands onto the ends of the chair arms and nodded.

“Not just questions,” he said. “Rude questions. Insulting questions. If I’d had any idea Patrick’s name would even be mentioned, I would have refused the interview from the outset. I was told this man has a reputation for hard-hitting questions, but I had no idea how low he would stoop.”

“Did your father’s advisers arrange this interview?”

“No. I was in Allen to address a Citizens for Decency meeting, and at the end of the meeting, a reporter came up and asked if he could have a brief tape-recorded interview. I didn’t see any harm in it, so I agreed,”

“Well, that’s a mistake I’m sure you’ll never repeat.”

He sighed. “Obviously. My father was furious with me, and you do not want to see my father when he is furious.” He was quiet for a moment then looked directly into my eyes. “How much do you know about Patrick?”

“That he’s dead, and that he was gay,” I said honestly.

“And the rumors…?”

“About your father and Patrick’s death?”

He nodded. “Yes.” More silence, and then: “The fact of the matter is that, now the subject has been mentioned by one sensation-monger, there will be more. Allen isn’t that big a town, but it certainly isn’t that small, either.

“I’ve got six radio shows scheduled, and four TV interviews coming up in the next week.” He looked at me quickly. “And, yes, all were arranged by my father’s team.”

“Well, that’s something, though now the genie’s out of the bottle, there are no guarantees. How did you respond in Allen?”

“I said that Patrick’s death had left a deep scar on our family, and that it was quite simply too painful to discuss. Most decent people would have left it at that, but he kept persisting, kept asking more and more personal questions, even mentioned that outrageous rumor.”

“And your response?”

“That it was patently ridiculous, of course. I got away from him as soon as I could, but the damage had been done.”

“Well, I think you did exactly what you should have done. You didn’t let him get you to explode.”

“Oh, but I wanted to!”

Again, a moment of silence, and I decided to step in.

“You know, Kevin, we all should have seen this coming, and I’m rather amazed your father’s people hadn’t prepared you. Especially in light of the Dog Collar fire, and given your father’s openly hostile attitude toward gays, the fact he had a gay son was bound to come up, and bound to be jumped on.”

He looked at me closely and said, “You’re wondering, aren’t you?”

“About what?”

“About whether I’m…one too.”

“That’s none of my business,” I said but wondering, nonetheless. “Besides, you’re married and have a child.”

I meant it to be ironic, but in the back of my mind, I could hear Ramón laughing.

Kevin raised an eyebrow and cocked his head.

“Let me put the issue to rest, then,” he said, “by telling you something about Patrick and myself.

“Although we were identical twins—I’m not sure even our parents could always tell us apart—it was as though the balance of good and evil that exists in most individuals was somehow divided between us. I am not saying I’m a saint—far from it. But whereas I always knew the difference between right and wrong, between good and evil, Patrick did not.

“My parents did everything they could to save him from himself, but he refused their every gesture. It fell on me to be the son God had intended to give them, and that has been no easy burden, I can assure you. You cannot imagine how much trouble Patrick got me into when we were kids just because people could not tell us apart. He would often deliberately cause trouble and then claim to be me.”

I would have grinned but thought better of it.

“But God saw me through it all,” Kevin continued. “My parents suffered the torments of hell in Patrick’s rebellion against—in his flaunting of—everything they had raised us to believe.”

I remained silent, listening intently as he leaned forward, hands clasped over his lap.

“My parents are not, shall we say, demonstrative people. But I know they loved Patrick and me equally, as good Christians should. Sometimes I felt that my father loved Patrick even more, in hopes that love would save his soul. It didn’t, of course.

“That Patrick drank, and lied, and cheated, and blasphemed in every possible way was bad enough. But that he was a
homosexual
as well! Can you imagine what his sexual deviance did to a man as moral and upright as my father? And it was, of course, equally difficult for me because, even though the Bible clearly states that homosexuality is an abomination in the sight of God, Patrick was my brother, and I loved him. And to love him while knowing he would burn forever in the fires of hell…”

I’d had about enough of that specious bullshit, but rather than tell Kevin he was full of crap, I asked, “So what, exactly, happened to Patrick? Exactly how did he die?”

Kevin looked at me oddly.

“That’s just it,” he said. “He didn’t.”

Chapter 9

I sat there for what seemed like a full minute be
fore
I was able to say, “Excuse me?”

“Patrick isn’t dead. Not in body. But he is dead to my family and, I’m sorry to say, to me.”

“I don’t mean to sound dense, but what’s going on here?”

Kevin gave a sad smile.

“Sorry—I’m sure you’re confused. I realize I’m taking a very great risk in telling you all this; you are the only person outside the family who knows. But since the story is partially out, I need to explain it all to someone who might be able to understand.

“I’m not sure why, but the first time I saw you, I somehow felt you were someone I could trust. I don’t have…many friends, and I really need someone I can confide in.”

I almost suggested he consider his wife but decided against it and instead said nothing

“The problem is that we have painted ourselves into something of a corner on this Patrick issue, and I need help in figuring out what to do about it.”

He made it sound as though he were talking about termites in the woodwork.

“But why the charade in the first place? Why lie about Patrick’s being dead?”

Kevin sat back in his chair.

“Well, first let me ask that you promise not to tell anyone that Patrick is alive.” I nodded, and, apparently satisfied, he continued. “As to why the charade, as you put it, I can only say it was a domino effect. One lie—well, let’s not call them lies—leads to another.

“As you know, my father is a man of enormous ambition; it is, perhaps, the greatest single force in his life. He is driven by his perceived mission to restore the fundamental moral values—which is to say Christian values—upon which this country was founded. He chose law enforcement as his route to this goal, and he worked his way up through the ranks.”

He apparently chose to overlook the fact his maternal grandfather had been the city’s chief of police for many years, and that Chief Rourke’s climb up the ladder could not have been hurt by this association. But again, I said nothing, and turned my attention back to Kevin.

“But,” he said, “my father’s rise within the department was increasingly being jeopardized by Patrick’s total disregard for everything he knew our father was trying to achieve. And by the time my father knew he was in direct line for chief, Patrick’s behavior was totally out of control; there were two arrests, minor violations though they were, that friends of my father were able to keep from being made public. But it was clear that something had to be done.

“As you know, the police department is an extremely conservative organization…”

Gee, let me write that down
, I thought. Luckily, Kevin was too deep into his story to notice the quick raising of my eyebrows.

“I know it sounds incredibly callous, but Patrick stood in the way of my father’s appointment. His homosexuality was becoming known outside the family and his circle of…friends.

“So, my father, being an eminently practical man, made an agreement with Patrick, who had no love, respect, or sense of duty to his family. My mother had inherited a sizable fortune, and if Patrick did not love his family, he certainly loved money. So, my father simply paid Patrick to disappear.

“An account was set up in a New York bank from which Patrick would be able to withdraw a set amount each month on condition that he never have contact with the family again. It was made perfectly clear to him that, should he be tempted to cause trouble or to ask for more money, the annuity would cease immediately.

“Patrick was only too happy to agree. The hunting-trip scenario was devised—”

I couldn’t keep myself from interrupting.

“Why? Why not just send him away, or disown him, or both? Killing him off just seems too…well, melodramatic.”

Kevin looked at me with mild annoyance, as though I were totally missing the point.

“You’re right, of course, in retrospect. But at the time…

“As long as Patrick was alive, attention could—and you can be sure would—be focused on him by my father’s enemies. They would have had a continual source of ammunition to be used against him, and I’m sure Patrick would have been only too happy to supply it.

“But with Patrick dead, the issue was also dead—for anyone to try to use him as a political weapon would mark them as insensitive and vindictive.”

He looked at me as if for some sign that I understood. I didn’t.

“I’m sorry, Kevin, but I just can’t help thinking that to drive a member of the family away simply because his being gay was blocking your father’s career…and then to be so—again, excuse my bluntness—so hypocritical as to pretend to grieve over him…”

Kevin looked at me with a mild expression of shock.

“Oh, no, Dick…no! My entire family—the younger children did not and do not to this day know any of this—truly, truly did grieve for Patrick.
I
grieved. I
still
grieve.”

“And where is Patrick now?”

“I have no idea,” Kevin said, but somehow I doubted that. “He has, uncharacteristically, kept his part of the agreement and has never contacted the family since that day. Money is still being withdrawn from the account each month, so we know he is alive, and I pray that he is well, and that perhaps he has found himself, if not God.”

We sat for a moment in silence, and I was aware Kevin’s eyes never left my face.

“It seems,” I said, “as though your father has dug himself a very deep hole.”

Kevin nodded.

“And now we are faced with a compounded problem. Even if we were to try to set the record straight at this point, it would be impossible. No one outside my family could possibly understand or, I’ll readily admit, be expected to understand. And my father’s career would be destroyed.”

We sat and stared at one another for what seemed like an eternity. There was no
Ping! Ping! Ping!
It was a stare of searching for some sort of answer to a question that probably didn’t have one.

While I loathed the chief and everything he stood for and knew I could easily use this information to destroy him, I felt oddly sorry for Kevin and didn’t relish the idea of betraying his trust. I realized, too, that the chief was pretty much his own worst enemy when it came to his actual chances for election and assumed the voters would be smart enough to realize it.

And, I decided, if worse came to worst, I could use Patrick’s story as a last-ditch move to keep the chief from winning.

Finally, I sat up straight to stretch my back, and since Kevin obviously wanted some sort of advice, I owed it to him to be honest. I got the impression he didn’t get much honesty in his dealings with his family.

“Okay. You’re right. Now that the subject of Patrick has been raised in the media, it will almost surely come up again. I assume the questions were only about Patrick’s being gay, and the rumors that your father had something to do with his death. No indication that anyone knows he’s still alive?”

Kevin shook his head.

“The very first and most obvious thing you have to do, and I’m sure your father’s advisors will back me on this, is to make damn sure you never get suckered into another situation like the one in Allen. Let your father’s handlers take care of who you talk to and when. I hope they’re smart enough not to go overboard and start asking interviewers for a list of questions in advance—that would practically shout that you have something to hide.

“I don’t think you have any choice but to, whenever Patrick is mentioned, say basically what you said in Allen. Don’t try to deny that Patrick was…is…gay, but don’t volunteer anything, either.

“And while I know it will be a strong temptation to fall back on some of the standard quotes from the Bible, I would strongly suggest that you don’t. Don’t moralize! Patrick was gay; Patrick was loved; Patrick is gone—I wouldn’t even use the word
dead
, if I were you. Stick to that.”