John Miller - Too Far Gone

“Stop saying I did it. Tell a lie. Stick a needle in Sibby’s eye. Fucker man, the fucker man. Put the chopper in my hand. Windy rain. Windy rain. The stinky nurse is here again. Lie bitch, lie bitch, I know the trues. I never lose. I still can choose. The baby comes, the liars go. The smiling cop deserves a blow. Tell the people what you know.”

“Do you remember Dr. LePointe?”

“Fucker man, fucker man. Put a chopper in my hand.”

“Sibby, who killed those people in the kitchen?”

“Fucker man.”

“Who brought you to that house where the dead people were?”

“Windy rain.”

“It was stormy that night. Who took you there?”

“Stinky nurse.”

“Nurse Fugate?…Note: Sibby is nodding.” Alexa’s voice was steady. “Sibby, who chopped up the bodies?”

“Raincoat fucker man. Put the cleaver in my hand.”

“He put the cleaver in your hand after he chopped them up?”

“Fucker man push Sibby down. Bloody blood. Who did it? You did it. Who did it? You did it. Who did it? You did it. No. Lie, lie, lie. Fucker man do. Not Sibby.”

Alexa snapped the recorder off.

LePointe’s face had lost its color. He took a drink, then shook his head.

“She’s an extremely sick woman.”

“She knows,” Alexa said.

This surprised Dr. LePointe, but he managed to say, “Pure nonsense. Obviously Dorothy can’t confirm your suspicion.”

“That’s why you and Dorothy kept her a prisoner and tried to destroy her mind. Sibby knew.”

“Sibby heard voices. In fact, if I recall, this fucker man was a voice she listened to. One among many. The voice probably commanded her to kill Curry and Rebecca.”

“Dorothy’s pet name for you was Dr. Fuckerman. Even through the fog of her delusions, Sibby knew. Did you make Sibby call you by that name?”

LePointe laughed. “Jesus God. Take that obscene tape and put it in the nearest trash receptacle, where it belongs.”

“I don’t know why you killed your brother and his wife that night. Maybe you planned it or maybe you just snapped. There was a storm and the streets were empty. Maybe you killed Curry, and Rebecca came in and you thought you had no choice but to kill her too. Maybe you had Sibby out in the car with Dorothy, or maybe you had her bring Sibby there to you after the murder. It doesn’t matter. I know you did it. You made sure Sibby was found there with the cleaver. Maybe Decell was already working for you, or maybe it began that night because he knew, or figured it out. I’m not sure, and it doesn’t matter anymore.”

“I don’t have to sit here and listen to this.”

“Stand and listen, then. Sibby will get stronger and healthier. She will become more and more lucid. Sibby is the sword of Damocles and she’s hanging over your head by a thread. I’ve made sure she’s beyond your reach and I think modern psychiatry can bring her back a little. When it does, her testimony, coupled with the diary and the missing pages I found tonight, will be enough to convince a prosecutor.”

“I loved my brother. I was here that night. All night long, until the police woke me. There were witnesses. Good luck breaking my alibi.”

“Witnesses like your mother? Casey’s grandmother?”

“She was away. But my wife and the servants made statements proving I was here.”

“Your witnesses are dead or long gone, I bet. Your wife is in no condition to testify. You’re going down. One day very soon. I promise you that. The public is going to learn about it.”

“One day soon.” LePointe held up his glass in salute. “Unless you are arresting me today, I have a plane to catch, Agent Keen. Anyway, why are you here instead of celebrating with Casey?”

“She isn’t gone?”

“She isn’t leaving. She’s perfectly safe.”

“Celebrating what?”

“Ascension to the throne.” He smiled at Alexa. “She’s got everything she ever wanted.”

“You can’t accept that she can love so completely?”

“Love? You honestly believe she loves Gary West?” He laughed and took a swallow from the glass, a drop dribbling down his chin. “The boy served his purpose, which was as a sperm syringe. He’s no more to her than a bull that’s conveniently out to pasture.”

“Casey is devastated.” Alexa felt hot anger rising within her.

“She’s devastated by joy at her wealth and power.”

“Casey doesn’t care about money or power.”

LePointe’s laughter was a sudden bark. “Don’t feel too badly. She fooled me too, Agent Keen. Like Grace Smythe, another gold-digging bitch. Turns out my daughter is twice the LePointe I am. She’s on par with my mother, with her father…uncle…Curry. I didn’t have any idea until I saw her standing where you are with the trust’s lawyer handy. They had the resignation paper for me to sign. God knows how long she’s had it prepared. Hell, I didn’t even know Casey was aware of the covenant. I have to hand it to her. Hoisted on my own petard. I’d have done the same thing in her place. Never would have imagined she had it in her.”

“What covenant?”

“Ask her about it. Something my ancestors instituted to prevent any one person from throwing the family’s fortunes away, and reputation is part and parcel of the whole shebang.”

“In English?” Alexa said.

“A straightforward morality clause tucked into the family rules and regulations. According to the covenant that I, like all of my predecessors in the last fifty years, signed upon taking control of the family trusts, any LePointe heir loses any rights of participation in or control they have immediately upon doing anything that brings disgrace or casts a scandalous shadow on the family name. Financial irresponsibility that threatens the capital is also covered. Three-point-nine billion last count, give or take a hundred million. All privately held. No public participation or interference. That is power, Alexa Keen.”

The amount stunned Alexa.

“I saw the glee in Casey’s eyes tonight. And to think I could have paid for an abortion and made this impossible. Her eyes. They were as bright and as icy cold as my own dear mother’s.”

LePointe sat bolt upright. “You aren’t recording this, are you?”

“No. I’m not.”

“I’m going to tell you something, because you are so smug, you should know. Your poor little rich girl is a monster.”

“I don’t believe for one moment that Casey is anything but a victim.” Alexa crossed her arms. “You’re drunk.”

“Hardly as intoxicated as I will be in an hour. A cleverly hidden time bomb, best I can figure. She was behind all of it. I can see her handiwork through all of this. That nasty conniving bitch from hell.”

“Casey?”

“My mother. Well, my mother and Casey. My mother believed, as do you, that I had Sibby kill Curry in order to take his place.”

“Didn’t you?”

LePointe smiled at Alexa with an I-may-be-drunk-but-I’m-not-crazy look.

“I am of the opinion-and I do not know this for a fact-that Dorothy may have done what you have accused me of in order to help me be all that I could be.” He smiled sourly. “Mother must have told Casey at some point, or left her a letter. My dear mother hated me as much as she loved Curry. And she saw Casey as Curry’s daughter…complex biology issues aside.”

“Your mother knew Casey was your daughter?”

“Of course she did. She put Casey in Curry and Rebecca’s possession against my wishes. I had a constant reminder of my weakness right in my own home. Mother held the real power till the day she died. She told me on her deathbed that I would live to regret what I had done. I thought the old bitch meant God would see to it. She’s probably ruling the seventh level of hell about now. She hated me with a passion. She tortured me like you wouldn’t believe, but I thought after she was gone, that would be over.”