Malice Times Page 15

  "No."

  “So, you don’t know if you killed them?”

  “Of course, I killed them. The gun was in my hand.”

  “Do you honestly think that a completely inebriated man, especially you, could have killed Brad Graber? You would have been dead before you walked through the door.”

  “If I caught them in the heat of passion, he wouldn’t have heard anything.”

  “They were fully clothed.”

  “What? How do you know that?”

  I whipped out the picture of Brad and Celia’s bodies and laid it on his desk.

  "You didn't kill them,” I said. “Marcus brought you home.”

  “Who?” he asked.

  “Works security for my father. He was Brad’s friend.” He looked at me with no comprehension. “It doesn’t matter who Marcus is. What matters is you passed out in his arms and he drove you home and left you in a chair in your living room.”

  I had him on his heels. I knew he would give me anything I wanted now. He looked about ten years older. Tears were forming in his eyes. For a brief moment, I felt sorry for him. He had been set up and had been paying for it for the past year. I was the first person who had given him a glimmer of getting out of the darkness.

  "Give me the folder on my brother's murder," I said.

  He opened his drawer and pulled out a big manila folder and handed it to me. I opened it and glanced at the first picture. I turned it face down on the desk. The picture was of my brother lying on an autopsy table, face contorted in terror.

  I glanced over the information. Michael had been stabbed in the back multiple times in a frenzied attack. He had a superficial wound on the head. Doubtful that he had even lost consciousness from the blow, which meant he had been awake when the killer straddled his back and brutally stabbed him to death. There was a fury and hatred behind the attack. He had been dead for between ten and twelve hours when he washed up on shore.

  "What about Daniel Miles’ murder?" I asked.

  "What about it?"

  "Has anything shown up at Daniel’s apartment?”

  “No. It was clean.”

  “Clean? How well do you go over murdered men’s apartments? It didn’t seem like you guys had even been to Michael’s apartment.”

  “We’d been there. We made a cursory search, but you know how this place works. We don’t really investigate until we are told who our guy is.”

  I didn't even need to ask. Archer pulled another folder from his desk and handed it to me. I took it graciously and opened it. Inside were the pictures of the dead Daniel Miles strung up in the warehouse and on the autopsy table. A single bullet hole to the head had caused death, but there was a contusion on the back of the head. The contusion was not enough to cause death, but enough to have possibly rendered him unconscious. There were signs of extensive torture.

  25

  Iasked Archer to see Tom Watkins. He just nodded his head. I walked to the jail right next door. Archer had called ahead. They made me sign a sheet with the date and time and they took me to his cell. They considered me a professional visitor. Tom Watkins sat on his bunk with a cigarette in his mouth. I whistled sharply and his eyes opened quickly.

  "What the hell do you want?"

  "Just wanted to see the man who killed my only brother."

  "Go to hell," he said.

  "Look you stupid bastard. We're going to have a little talk. You answer my questions and then I'll leave you to rot if that’s what you want. You refuse or lie to me, I'll shovel dirt on your grave. I'll make that nice little alibi of yours disappear and I'll sit there and watch you as they stick that needle in your arm and watch the life slowly extinguish from your eyes. On the other hand, if you help me, I can get you off the hook quick and easy."

  He stared down at the floor again and gave a heavy sigh. He nodded his head and sauntered to the bars.

  "Did you kill Michael?" I asked.

  "No. I don’t have a death wish.”

  "Where were you the night Michael was killed?"

  "You know where I was.” He dropped his cigarette to the floor and crushed it with his foot.

  “I want to hear the words.”

  “I was with Dulcy.”

  “She’s a good girl, that Dulcy. I almost believed her when she told me that you were with her. A lot more than I believe you.”

  “That’s where I was.”

  "Was Michael blackmailing you?"

  "No," he said.

  "Don't lie to me."

  "I'm not lying."

  "Yes, you are," I said. I pulled out the photo of Watkins carrying a duffel bag leaving the Archer house.

  “Where did you get that?”

  “Part of my inheritance.”

  “I’ve never seen that before in my life.”

  “You also told him you were out of time. Heading back to New York.”

  He lowered his head and walked back to his bunk and lied back down.

  “If you know so much, what are you asking me for. What does it matter? I’m a dead man anyway.”

  “I heard you owe Paul Regan a lot of money. Not someone you want to owe a lot of money to.”

  “You have no idea what you’re talking about. Now, get lost.”

  Some people don’t want help. I gave up and headed to Steele Savings and Loan. I wondered what new and exciting things I would find in Michael's safety deposit box. What I found disturbed me a little. The first thing I noticed, hell anyone would notice, was the huge stacks of one hundred dollar bills. After counting them the total came to one hundred thousand dollars.

  There was also a dossier on Bruce Drake. I sat down and read through it. He had a connection with Buddy Costello. The Buddy Costello that Brian Prater, also known as Don Webb, worked for. Bruce Drake was currently thirty-five years old. He managed Costello’s casino, The Golden Seagull. I thought of the statues of the seagulls sitting outside The Diamond Schooner and laughed to myself. Five years ago, he moved to New York, where he took up with a business associate of Buddy Costello’s by the name of Paul Regan. So, Drake and Regan were involved. One year ago, Drake and Watkins both descend on Malice Grove and Brad Graber and Celia Archer wind up dead. Coincidence, I think not.

  I put the money back into the box and took the dossier with me. I needed to find out more about Bruce Drake. But I also needed to find out more about Daniel Miles and why he was killed. He had said that he was working on something special. I didn’t think twice about it at the time and when I finally did, it was too late. I headed back to the office to take a peek at his computer.

  I sat down at his desk and turned the new machine on. There probably wouldn’t be anything on it at all since the machine was brand new, but it was worth a shot. Regina eyed me from her desk. She didn’t approach. I wondered if she was keeping her distance because of the whole Archer angle. I didn’t have time for that yet. I searched through the computer, but there was nothing there. It had either been wiped clean or Daniel never got around to using it. I then remembered a snippet of our first conversation. He said he had a computer at his place. I knew what I was doing tonight.

  I walked over to Regina. She looked up at me from her magazine and smiled. “So, about Archer.”

  “You mean Dad. Not now,” I said. “Get Dulcy and Elizabeth in my office.”

  She stood and started collecting them. I walked in and sat behind my desk and looked out across the lake. Down the road a bit, I looked at The Diamond Schooner as the waves splashed against the wood. Two tall masts reached high into the sky with two large diamonds at the top. From those diamonds were heavy ropes that reached down and over each side of the boat. There were sails wrapped around the ropes. On rainy nights, I imagine those sails could be opened to cover the outdoor dining area. On the back side a boat was docked to The Diamond Schooner unloading supplies. I needed to get a look at that place, too. Breaking into Daniel Miles’ apartment would prove a lot easier than breaking into The Diamond Schooner, but that supply boat gave me an idea.<
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  Regina led them all in and then started to leave. I motioned for her to stay. She looked at me with a half-worried look.

  After they sat down, I asked, “So who wants to blow up this town?”

  We hammered out a story linking all the murders together, trying to implicate as many people as possible. We wrote that the reason Michael was killed was because he was blackmailing the person who had killed Brad and Celia and that Daniel had found this out, but had been silenced. Michael was blackmailing everyone, so that would get everyone on their heels. We included everything about Brad and Celia and their murders and the manner in which they were committed. We indicated that there were strong suspects in the case that included Michael. We also included the fact that Bruce Drake and Tom Watkins had both arrived in Malice Grove around the time of Brad and Celia’s deaths. It didn’t matter if any of it was true. I wanted people worried or better yet scared. Worried and scared people make mistakes.

  After we were done, Elizabeth took the story that she and Dulcy had written together and went back to her desk to edit it for publication the following morning. I asked Dulcy to stay and motioned for Regina to leave.

  “Go tell Archer about Watkins’ alibi. He knows, but he might believe it coming from you.”

  “Do you believe me?” she asked.

  “No. But I want Watkins out when that story hits. I’m not going to learn anything from him if he’s sitting in that jail cell intent to let the noose tighten around his neck.”

  “I’ll go there right now. Do you think he’ll believe me?”

  “I greased the wheels a little.”

  There was a little unfinished business I had with Charles, so before going home I checked down in the printing room. I was told he had gone home for the day. It sounded like a good idea, so I did the same. When I got there, I knocked on Charles' door and his wife, Cheryl, answered once again.

  "Hello Cheryl," I said politely. "Is Charles in? I really need to talk to him."

  "No, he's not here."

  "Do you know where I can find him?"

  "I don't have the foggiest idea."

  "What's wrong, Cheryl?"

  "Nothing. Why don't you leave us alone? We don't need no more trouble."

  "What happened? Is it about how he got his face all beat up?"

  "I said leave us alone."

  "I know how that happened."

  "Get out."

  "What's he doing for my father?"

  She slammed the door in my face and I walked to my apartment. I wondered what had happened to Charles and why Cheryl treated me the way she did. There could be only one explanation. In some way I had been responsible for the beating Charles had received. I wanted to just curl up in bed, watch some old movies on the tube and forget that I was in Malice Grove for a while. So I changed my clothes once again and headed over to my father's casino. My father and mother were both there and they motioned me over.

  "Can you believe they arrested Tom?" my father asked.

  "Quite honestly, yes," I said.

  "It's so obviously a frame up," he said.

  "How do you know?" my mother asked. "Maybe Tom did kill Michael. Have you ever thought of that? Of course not. That's because you treat Tom more like a son than the two you actually had."

  "That's because he acts more like a son than the two you gave me."

  "Sorry to bust up this particular argument, but it is a frame,” I said. “Archer admitted as much to me. Doesn’t mean he’s not guilty mind you. Just means someone wants to close the door on that particular crime. And the only reason I can think of to do that is so that I will go home.”

  "Do you think Tom is guilty?" my father asked.

  "I don't know. He seems to have an alibi, but it could be a false one."

  "Will it exonerate him?”

  "No," I said. "But it is really just a test for Archer. I want to know how far he is willing to go.”

  “What are you talking about?” my father asked. The confusion on his face brought out the wrinkles around his eyes.

  “Nothing. Just talking to myself.”

  "What happened to you?" my mother finally asked. "You have cuts and a limp."

  "Someone jumped me at my apartment a couple of nights ago."

  "I heard you moved into Michael's apartment," my father said.

  "Do you think that was a good idea?" my mother asked.

  "Probably not, but someone wants something that Michael had. I’m not about to let whoever that is get it."

  "The police think he was killed there," my father said.

  "He was. I found the stain under the carpet."

  My mother winced at the word stain and I quickly apologized.

  My father, naturally, paid no attention to my mother's discomfort and asked, "Have you considered my offer to buy The Malice Times?"

  I only shook my head.

  "Do you plan on sticking around?"

  "Not really."

  “So back to Pittsburgh to drink your life away?”

  “What I do with my life is none of your business.”

  “We just want to know what and how you’re doing,” my mother said. “We’d support you no matter what.”

  "You two still don't understand," I said. "I'll make it real simple for you. I don't care if you support me in what I do. I don't care if you like who I've become. I could care less if you like the way I dress, act or eat."

  "Well that's very nice of you to say," my father said.

  "I don't think I deserve that," my mother said.

  "No," I said. "You don't. That's just the way I am. Sorry. I’m just a little angrier tonight than usual. You see I found out today that a man we all know very well got himself blown up in New York three years ago.”

  “I would have thought that information would have pleased you,” my father said.

  “Normally, it might. Except for this little fact. You took Webb in to your home to repay a debt to Regan. And now, I come to find out that you took Watkins on to replace Brad to repay a debt to Regan. Which makes me wonder, what happened that caused you to have another debt to Regan. I had no idea when I first heard that. I thought, the man is an idiot, getting into debt with a man like Regan again. But there was no again, was there? Because the original debt was never paid. You killed Webb.”

  “I didn’t kill Webb,” he said.

  “I think about that night and how you accused me of lying and making up stories. That there was an innocent explanation to everything.”

  “Brad killed him,” he said.

  “What?”

  “Brad killed him. After that, me and Brad had a bit of a rough time.”

  “Why did Brad kill him? He waited seven years to kill him for doing what he did to me?”

  “You? No, not what he did to you.” I could see the tears starting to stream down my mother’s face. A frown grew down my father’s jowls and he looked up at the ceiling and took a deep breath to keep the tears out of his eyes.

  “What the hell happened?” I asked.

  “Webb raped your brother. Brad chased him all the way back to New York. Regan understood, but I still owed him.”

  If my father had reached out and slapped me across the face the affect wouldn’t have been greater. I sat down in a chair. My mother sat down next to me taking my hand. My father sat across from me.

  “I should have sent him away immediately. Told Regan to get him out of my town. I never forgave myself for that. It was my fault. Brad just went crazy. He had been bottling up his hatred for Webb for a very long time.”

  “How did it happen?” I asked. “I mean Michael.”

  “Not in front of your mother,” he said. “It happened in the house, in his room. Things had kind of settled down in Vegas. It had been seven years. Webb had gone to work for me down at the warehouse. He was really good at his job. For that, no one could deny.”

  “For he’s a jolly, good fellow,” I said.

  “Please, Joe. It seemed like Regan was content to leave Webb
in Malice Grove forever. No one got on to where he was. New York is a big town, but it is hard to hide there unless you sit in a room all day and night. I was glad when I got the call from Regan that he was ready for Webb to come to him. Webb had spent seven years in Malice Grove and he hated every single second of it. He didn’t even try to hide it. Anyway, Brad found Michael curled up in his room sobbing the day after I told Webb he was going to New York. It happened very much like what happened to you, except Michael couldn’t defend himself. Brad lost it. How I heard about what happened to Michael was Brad screaming this sort of feral beastly howl. It was inhuman. I thought there was an animal in the house.”

  “There was,” my mother said.

  “Yeah,” my father said with a quavering voice. “Brad then started screaming over and over again, ‘I’ll kill him. I’ll kill him.’ I went running towards that howl. When I came in the room, Brad rushed me. I thought he was going to kill me. He grabbed me around my shoulders and literally lifted me off my feet. His face inches from mine and he mumbled, ‘He raped your son.’ I didn’t know what to do or say. He just looked at me and shook his head in disgust and tossed me to the floor. He went looking for Webb, but he was gone. Brad took off after him. He knew where he would go. The only place he could go. To Regan. The person that would protect him. Brad hunted him down in New York. Regan had put him up in a room above his club. Brad burst into the room and they got into a fight. Webb was a tough guy, but he was no match for Brad. Brad just beat him to death with his bare hands. I got a phone call not long after that from Regan. I still owed him. My relationship with Brad was never the same. My relationship with Michael was never the same. Everything changed that day. I deserved it. It was my fault.”

  “How did Webb end up in a house explosion then?”

  “I didn’t really know at the time. Watkins told me some after he got here. Regan was just covering it up. Webb was a wanted man and it wouldn’t do to have him found in a room above his club. Watkins did demolitions for the Army. He was apparently very good.”

  “What did you owe Regan for?” I asked.

  “That’s hardly important.”

  “I think it is hugely important. Did he help cover up some murder you committed or did he kill someone for you?”