The Death and Life of Gabriel Phillips (12 page)

“Yes, sir.” She called him “sir,” like Andy was an old man. I guess he looked that way to her. “My son loves coming to the carnival. This is the only night I could get off to take him.”

Andy smiled. “I’m not that thrilled at being here, but I have to be. Duty calls. I’m stuck here at the festival until it closes.” Then an idea popped into his head. “If you wouldn’t mind, I could sure use some company,” he said. “Time drags by with no one to talk to.”

Miss Paul looked down at her son, Brian, who clutched her hand. To Andy, the kid acted a lot younger than Gabe. He seemed very skittish, unnaturally so. “What do you think, Brian? Would you mind if the officer tags along with us?”

Before Brian could answer, Andy said, “Tell you what, it will be my treat. And you can tell me to get lost if I overstay my welcome. Have you ridden anything yet, Brian?”

The boy shook his head no.

“What would you like to ride first?”

Brian pointed toward the Tilt-A-Whirl.

“That sounds great. Why don’t we go get ourselves some wristbands and ride the Tilt-A-Whirl?” Andy threw the whole “watch one quadrant for an hour and rotate counterclockwise” thing out the window. He had more important things to do than guard the Goat Cheese Queen from getting sprayed with poop.

The boy still acted hesitant, but he and his mother walked with Andy over to the ticket booth. “Three wristbands, please,” Andy said as he plunked down a ten-dollar bill. He handed bands to Brian and his mother. “You know, in all the confusion the other night, I didn’t catch your first name,” Andy said to her.

“Kim,” she replied.

“Okay, Kim, do you feel up to the Tilt-A-Whirl?” Andy asked.

“Not really,” she said. “Those round-and-round rides make me sick. I think I’ll just watch, and the two of you can ride it.”

“Fair enough. What do you think about that, Brian?” Andy offered. The boy nodded his head yes. I think the Tilt-A-Whirl helped him warm up to my old man, since he wouldn’t have been able to ride it without him. The kid’s mother wasn’t going to get on it, and she probably didn’t have enough money on her to spring for the wristbands. Andy took the kid’s hand, and the two got in line. It had been a long time since Andy had ridden any of these rides, but he remembered that getting on anything wilder than a park bench probably wasn’t a good idea with a belly full of kettle corn. Of course, by this point it was too late. Besides, he needed something more than company. This boy might well hold the key to proving John Phillips killed Gabe.

The line moved quickly. Within five minutes Andy and Brian were strapped into the red car with the curved roof hanging over the top of them. Andy’s stomach began to gurgle as the round ride top began to slowly move. The faster it went, the more the kettle corn started moving, and the more Brian started squealing and laughing. “Make it spin, make it spin,” he yelled to Andy. They grabbed the wheel in front of them and set the car in even more motion than the inertia of the ride produced. A couple of minutes into the ride, they had their car spinning around and around, as the entire ride moved faster and faster.
Oh, God, I think I’m going to hurl,
Andy kept thinking. He could feel the upper sides of his cheeks pushing in and his gag reflex springing into motion. “This is great,” Brian yelled as he threw his arms straight over his head, and his body pushed up tight to Andy’s from the centrifugal force of the ride. “Wheeeeeeeeeee,” Brian said.
Oh, God, make it stop
, Andy thought.

Finally the ride slowed to a stop. Brian sprang up out of his seat and darted over to his mother. Andy staggered off the ride, his head and stomach still spinning in opposite directions from one another. “Been a while since you’ve been on the Tilt-A-Whirl, Officer Myers?” Kim Paul laughed.

“Uhh, yeah,” Andy said. He pulled his hand up to his mouth, trying to regain his composure and his stomach. “Yeah, that’s a great ride, if you’re eight. And call me Andy.” He and Kim both laughed. “Well,” he said slowly, “what’s it going to be next, Brian? And please, nothing that spins around in a circle for a while.”

“I’m hungry,” Brian said. “Can we get something to eat?”

Andy grabbed his mouth and suppressed a belch. “Sure,” he said, “anything you want.”

Neither Kim nor Brian ever told Andy to get lost. Brian was having so much fun that his mother let him stay at the carnival until it closed at eleven, rather than taking him home at nine, like she’d originally planned. By the end of the evening, Brian was pulling Andy toward different rides. It seemed pretty clear to Andy that the kid didn’t get a lot of attention from a father figure, and the kid ate up the attention Andy gave him. The way the mother talked, she’d gotten pregnant in high school, and the boy’s father had never shown much interest in him. She had to drop out of school, but the father graduated and went to Indiana University, in Bloomington, on a scholarship. Four years later he took a job in Colorado, and she never heard from him again. Now she had to work two jobs to keep a roof over their heads, which meant Brian spent a lot of time by himself. Andy just listened to her story without sharing any of his own. As far as fathers went, he wasn’t any better than Brian’s, but Kim didn’t need to know that.

When the carnival closed, Andy offered to drive Kim and Brian back to their apartment. She declined his offer, but Brian asked if they could see one another again sometime. “Sure,” Andy said, “I can guarantee that.” Brian smiled, never suspecting Andy had any other motives. And Andy kept his word. Over the next few weeks he showed up more and more often at the Paul apartment. He began showering on Brian some of the attention he once showed Gabe. And by the time Ted Jackson finally got around to interviewing Brian in the presence of the boy’s mother, Andy’s efforts paid off.

Chapter 9

A
BOUT THREE WEEKS
after the Goat Cheese Festival, Ted Jackson called Andy and invited him to lunch. The two hadn’t talked since Ted told Andy he needed more evidence, which really didn’t fit the obsessive way my old man had approached this case. That doesn’t mean Andy let it rest. No. He was simply trying a little more subtle approach with Ted and the other detectives assigned to this case. Ted’s reaction to Andy’s news that there was an “earwitness” to the murder pretty much convinced my old man no one in the sheriff’s department wanted to do the heavy lifting in the investigation. It wasn’t enough to point them in the right direction and hope they followed the trail. Andy knew he had to drop the evidence right in their lap. Even then, they would need a little extra encouragement to even see what he’d given them.

Ted drove over to Trask and met Andy at the Bluebird Diner on Main Street. At least that’s what it’s called now. I’m not sure what they called it back then. Ted arrived first, and ended up waiting nearly fifteen minutes for Andy.

“Sorry. I got called out right before I was headed in this direction,” Andy said. That was a lie. He’d been in the back of the police station watching Bob Barker give away fabulous prizes on that day’s showcase. Making Ted wait was nothing more than a little mind game Andy decided to play with his old friend.

“That’s all right, I know how that goes,” Ted said. “So what’s good in this place these days?” He glanced at the stain-encrusted menu.

“Everything,” Andy said, laughing.

“They still have those giant tenderloin sandwiches, where the meat is three times the size of the bun?” Ted asked.

“Always. And the breading on the tenderloin is thicker than the meat itself.”

“Sounds good and healthy. Think I’ll have that.” Ted shoved the menu back behind the napkin holder.

“Mmmm, why not?” Andy motioned toward the waitress, who came over and greeted them with a big “hi, y’all” in a thick Kentucky accent. Sometimes the line between Indiana and Kentucky gets pretty blurry. Andy ordered their tenderloin sandwiches along with fries and iced teas.

After the waitress left, Ted said, “I’ve got some bad news for you, Andy.”

“That’s a hell of a lunchtime conversation starter. Really sets the old taste buds on edge.”

“Yeah, whatever. I’m serious. The case against John Phillips doesn’t look so good,” Ted said.

“What? Why?” Andy said.

“The guy’s a frickin’ Eagle Scout, that’s why. I must have talked to everybody in this dumpy little town who ever met him, and they all say the same thing.”

“Have you talked to Brian Paul, like I asked you to?” Andy asked.

Ted sighed. “Not yet. I will. I will. I promise. But I don’t know what good it will do. Everything I’ve uncovered about John Phillips says the guy would cross the street to keep from stepping on a ladybug.”

“I’m not buying that, Jax,” Andy said.

“Suit yourself. But you ought to hear the stories. Hell, I know how much time you’ve spent out at Madison Park, you’ve probably heard the stories,” Ted said.

“Like the guy whose old Pinto broke down and he didn’t have a way to work, which meant he would lose his job and his apartment, and he and his girlfriend had a baby on the way and he would have probably started selling drugs or breaking into rich people’s houses to make ends meet if John Phillips hadn’t stepped in and offered to take the guy to work every day, even though it was way out of his way and he even paid to get the guy’s car fixed? Yeah. I heard that one,” Andy said.

“And did you hear the one about the single mom that was about to get tossed out for not paying her rent, and John paid it for her?” Ted asked.

“And how he fed carnival workers. And how he volunteers in a weekend youth basketball program in inner-city Indy. And how he walks on water and leaps tall buildings with a single bound. Hell yes, I’ve heard them all. So what?” Andy said.

“So what? I’ll tell you so what. A guy who carries an old lady’s groceries in for her during a thunderstorm doesn’t exactly fit the picture of a man who could smash his son’s head in with a dresser drawer. You wanted me to investigate the case. I’ve investigated the case. I followed the evidence. And the evidence tells me this guy is not a killer,” Ted said.

“I think you’re missing the whole point, Jax,” Andy said.

“Great. The chief detective of the
Trask
Police Department is going to lecture me on following the evidence,” Ted said.

“Go to hell. You don’t have that much more experience than me. I could have jumped over to county the same time you did—hell, even before you did—but I chose to stay here. I
chose
to stay,” Andy said.

“I know, I know, I was out of line,” Ted said.

“That’s all right. But think about it, Jax. It doesn’t mean a rat’s ass how many poor, starving people John Phillips feeds or how much good work he does. The guy’s history, his own police record, shows he is prone to fits of rage where he is capable of doing anything.
Anything
. If his buddies in the bar in Pendleton eight years ago hadn’t pulled him off some guy back then, he would already have one murder rap, and wouldn’t have had an opportunity to commit a second,” Andy said.

“But the man has changed,” Ted protested.

“Yeah, he’s cleaned up his act. Cut out the booze. Got all religious. Gone respectable. But are you telling me that something couldn’t still set him off, something that would make him so mad that there is no limit to what he could do? The guy still has a trigger. He may have buried it pretty deep, but it is still there. If someone hit him hard enough, hurt him bad enough, they could set it off,” Andy said with a self-confidence that spoke more than his words.

“What? Do you know something you haven’t told me yet?” Ted asked, taking the bait.

“You need to talk to Loraine Phillips again. Ask her to tell you everything that happened that night.”

“I think we got a pretty full statement from her already,” Ted said.

“No. Ask her about the argument she had with John when she dropped Gabe off earlier that evening. Ask her very specifically about what she said about Gabe’s relationship to John,” Andy said.

“Andy, I’ve already told you, bitter ex-wives are capable of saying anything. You’re lucky. Your ex-wife quietly left the state and leaves you alone. We all aren’t that fortunate.”

“Ask her, Jax. I don’t care how much of a mister nice guy someone is, anyone who hears what she told him would probably lose it. The old rageaholic in him had to come storming back with a vengeance. And I do mean vengeance.”

“What did she say?” Ted asked.

“Nah, I won’t tell you. You have to ask her yourself.” The waitress placed two iced teas, two straws, and a handful of sugar packets on the table, then walked away. Andy took a long drink of his tea, without sugar. He always drank his tea without sugar, I’m not sure how he could stomach it. Then he said, “And before you go crowning John Phillips as Boy Scout of the year, you need to talk to a Miss Angela Peters.”

“Who’s that?” Ted asked.

“A hooker. At least she used to be a hooker. She’s off the streets now, thanks to John,” Andy said.

“Doesn’t that just confirm what I’ve already said about him?” Ted countered.

“Not exactly. Talk to her. Here’s her address and phone number,” Andy said as he slid a piece of paper across the table. “She lives over on the west side of Indy now. Used to walk the streets downtown. She was one of the lost souls John brought home to save.”

“Oh, yeah, the last straw Loraine Phillips talked about in her statement,” Ted said.

“Yep. ‘The hooker was the last straw.’ That’s her,” Andy said.

Now it was Ted’s turn to ask, “So what?”

“So she was very appreciative of John’s efforts to save her,” Andy said.

“And . . .”

“And she showed it, shall we say, in ways which she’d refined during her professional career, if you catch my drift,” Andy said.

“How did you find this out?” Ted asked.

“She told me. Said she would swear to it in court.”

“Holy crap,” Ted said.

“Exactly,” Andy replied as their sandwiches arrived.

“One more thing,” Andy said.

Ted shook his head. “What now?”

“Talk to the kid Brian Paul. You have to talk to this kid.”

“Don’t tell me you’ve interrogated him already? I thought you were going to leave that to me,” Ted said as he dumped ketchup on the fries that came with his tenderloin sandwich.