Jonathan Kellerman - The Web

"Everything makes me look guilty," he said. "If you keep your mouth shut, you can't swallow flies."

"Did Moreland tell you that? His quotations are usually a little more elegant."

"No," he said sharply. "My… father."

"What other words of wisdom did your father give you?"

Keeping his eyes closed, he tightened the lids.

Lying down on the bunk, face to the skimpy straw mattress.

"Okay," I said. "Maybe you should save it for your lawyer, anyway. Dennis has called for a public defender from Saipan. It'll take at least two days, maybe longer. Anything you want me to tell Moreland other than to abandon you?"

No movement.

I called out Dennis's name.

Deputy Ed Ruiz shuffled in and produced a key. "Say anything?"

I didn't answer.

The toothless mouth creased in contempt. "Figures. His old man never said anything either when we used to throw his ass in here. Just lie there, like he's doing. Like some damn piece of wood. Then, soon as the lights went out, he'd start having those drunk-dreams, screaming about things eating him alive."

He put the key in the lock.

"When it got so loud we couldn't stand it, we'd hose him off and that would work for a while. Then he'd sleep again and go right back into those DTs. All night like that. Next morning, he'd be denying he did anything. Few days later, he'd be sauced up again, insult some woman or grab her, take a poke at some guy, and be back in here, the same damn thing all over."

He came forward, pointing at Ben. "Only difference is, Daddy used to sleep on the top bunk. We'd put him on the bottom, but he'd always find a way to get up there, no matter how drunk. Then, of course, he'd roll off in the middle of the night, fall on his ass, crack his head. But climb right back on top, the stupid shithead. Stubborn- stupid. Some people don't learn."

He snickered and turned the key.

Behind me, Ben said, "Hold on."

Ruiz looked at him with disgust.

"Hey, killer." Bracing one bony hand against the edge of the cell door. USMC tattoo across the top.

"How much time do I have left?" said Ben.

"The doctor here is ready to go."

"I can wait," I said. "If he's got something to tell me."

Ruiz mashed his lips and peered at his watch. "Suit yourself. Eighteen minutes."

He lingered near the door.

"We'll take all eighteen," I said. He walked away, very slowly.

When I turned back to Ben, he was on his feet, next to the toilet hole, squeezing himself into a corner.

"This is the story," he said in a dead voice. "I don't care what you think of it, the only reason I'm telling you is so you'll pass it along to Dr. Bill."

"Okay."

"Though you probably won't."

"Why not?"

"You can't be trusted."

"Why's that?"

"The way you talked about him before. He's a great man- you have no idea."

"Hey," I said. "If you don't trust me to deliver the message, save it for your lawyer."

"Lawyers can't be trusted, either."

"The one in Hawaii didn't do well by you?"

"There was no trial in Hawaii," he said. "I pled guilty and the Guard gave me some brig time. They said it wouldn't go on my record. Obviously, they can't be trusted either."

"Life's rough," I said. "I'm sure Betty's family thinks so too."

He stared into the filthy pit.

I said, "Sixteen minutes left."

Without shifting position, he said, "When we got home from dinner, Claire was upset with me. For pressuring her to play. She didn't show it, but that's the way she is. I shouldn't have done it."

Wringing his hands.

"We had… a tiff. Mostly, she talked and I listened, then she went to bed and I stayed up, trying to read. To get rid of my anger. Sometimes that works for me… not that I'm angry a lot. And we don't have many tiffs. We get along great. I love her."

Tears.

"What did you read?"

"Medical journals. Dr. Bill gives me his when he's through. I like to educate myself."

"Which journals?"

"New England Journal, Archives of Internal Medicine, Tropical Medicine Quarterly."

"Do you remember any specific articles?"

"One on pyloric stenosis. Another on gallbladder disease."

He rattled off more medical terminology, suddenly looking at ease.

"How long did you read?"

"Maybe an hour or two."

"One hour or two? There's a big difference."

"I- we got home around nine-forty. The… tiff took maybe another ten minutes- mostly, it was cold silence. Then Claire was in bed by ten- so I guess a little over an hour. Maybe an hour and a half. Then the phone rang, some guy saying there was a medical emergency."

"What time was this?"

"I don't know- when I'm not working I don't watch the clock. Bill taught me time was valuable, but when I'm home, not paying attention to time is my freedom."

He looked at me in a new way. Childlike. Craving approval.

"I understand," I said, thinking of the Auden poem Moreland had just left me.

O let not Time deceive you… burrows of the Nightmare… naked Justice.

He scratched his cheek, then his chest. Gazed into the latrine as if he wanted to crawl in.

"It was probably eleven-thirty," he said. "Or around then."

"Who called?"

"Some guy."

"You don't know who?"

He shook his head.

"Small island like this," I said, "I'd think you'd know everyone."

"At first I thought it was one of the gardeners at the estate, but it wasn't."

"Which gardener?"

"Carl Sleet. But it wasn't. When I said "Carl' he didn't acknowledge, and this guy's voice was lower."

"When you said "Carl' he didn't identify himself?"

"He was talking fast- very upset. And the connection was bad."

"Like a long distance call?"

That surprised him. "Why would anyone call me long distance? No, the worst calls are the local ones. The long distance ones if you get a satellite linkup, you're fine. But most of the island lines are old and corroded."

"All right," I said. "Some guy you didn't recognize calls you sounding upset-"

"I've been wracking my brain to see if I could figure out who it was, but I can't."

"Why was he upset?"

"He said there was an emergency, a heart attack on Campion Way, near the park, and they needed help."

"He didn't say who had the heart attack?"

"No. It all happened very fast- as if he was panicked."

"Why'd he call you instead of Moreland?"

"He said he had called Dr. Bill and Dr. Bill was on his way and told him to get me because I was closer to Campion. So I grabbed my stuff and went."

"What stuff?"

"Crisis kit- paddles, epinephrine, other heart stimulants. I figured I'd start CPR till Dr. Bill got there, then the two of us…"

"Then what happened?"

"I left the house-"

"Did Claire see you go?"

"No. I snu- left as quietly as possible. I didn't want to wake her or the kids."

"Did she hear the phone ring?"

"I don't know… usually she doesn't. The phone's in the kitchen and there's no extension in the bedroom. We keep the ringer on low at night."

"With no bedroom extension, how do you hear emergency calls?"

"I'm a light sleeper and we usually leave the bedroom door open. Tonight it was shut- Claire shut it 'cause she was mad. When it rang, I ran over and picked up on the first ring."

Meaning no one could verify the call or the time frame.

"So you left with your medical kit," I said.

"Yes."

"Did you walk or drive?"

"Drove. I got to the park maybe five minutes after the call."

"Close to midnight."

"Must have been. It was really dark, there are no streetlights on the island except for Front Street. At first I couldn't see anything, was worried I'd run over the patient, so I parked and walked. As I got closer I saw someone lying by the side of the road."