Faye Kellerman - Double Homicide

“How did this happen?” Ellen grabbed Dorothy’s arm, squeezing her fingers until her knuckles blanched. She was shaking, her voice wet with tears and profound sadness. “How did this happen? How could…” She broke into sobs that would no longer allow speech.

Tears in her own eyes, Dorothy reached out to embrace her, and the distraught woman permitted herself to take comfort. Like Dorothy, Ellen was a large woman-tall and heavy-but in grief, she was insubstantial.

“How could this happen? How could this happen? How could it, Dorothy, how could it?”

Water overflowed Dorothy’s eyes. “We’re going to find out everything, Ellen. I promise you, personally, I will not rest until we have the perpetrator behind bars.”

“Just tell me this: Was it the pig who fouled my Julius? Did he take him down?”

“From what I heard, that boy wasn’t even at the club.”

“Boy.” Ellen looked ready to spit. “It wasn’t anyone from Ducaine?”

At Dorothy’s silence, Ellen became fierce. “It wasn’t him, it was his friend, wasn’t it? Wasn’t it? A Ducaine pig. Tell me the truth, Dorothy. Tell me! Tell me! ”

“There were some players from Ducaine-”

“I knew it!” Ellen broke away. “I knew it! I knew it! The game ! It’s not a game when they allow monsters and thugs to play. This world’s insane!” She was shouting now. “Insane!”

“I agree, but we don’t know everything just-”

“I know enough to know it’s insane!”

There was a knock at the door. Rias Adajinian came in. “Leo Van Beest is here.”

Ellen pulled up a tissue and wiped her eyes. “Lord, this is all I need.”

“You want me to put him in another room, Ellen?”

“Yes… no. No, he can come in.” She faced Rias. “Bring him in here.”

As soon as Adajinian left, Ellen started to pace. “We divorced when Julius was five. It was hard on the boy because Leo was still playing overseas. Not that Julius would have seen much of his father even if we had lived in Italy. With all his running around.”

Her face had turned stony.

“It was hard on Julius after we both remarried. I don’t think he ever forgave either one of us. He refused to take my husband’s last name even after Paul adopted him. That’s why I kept the name Van Beest. I wanted Julius to feel that connection… that we still belonged to each other. ”Cause Leo was never around.“

She swallowed hard and continued to walk off her nervous energy by circling around the room like a herding dog.

“Never around, never paid for a damn thing. Spending on Lord knows what. Certainly not on his kid. Not only Julius, not on his other kids, either. Not that Leo was a bad man. He just wasn’t a good man. He was just a regular man.”

Ellen bit her thumbnail.

“The last time Leo divorced, it hit him hard. Real hard. He was fat and old and full of pain. His feet were gone, his knees were gone, his back was gone. Couldn’t play ball and hardly any money left. Not that he was destitute. He’s got his house, but it wasn’t like his glory days, you know. The drinking started getting real heavy. I almost felt sorry for him. Julius… he did feel sorry for him. He made it a point to call him once a week, once every other week. Something like that. They got closer than they ever got.”

“That was nice,” said Dorothy.

“Yeah, it was nice. Julius was trying to reconnect. I think he was the only bright spot in Leo’s dreary life. And now that’s gone… Oh Lord, I need to sit down.”

Dorothy helped her into a chair. “When was the last time you spoke to Leo?”

“Tonight at the game, actually.” Ellen laughed bitterly. “We nodded to each other. That’s what we did when we saw each other. We’d nod, all polite.”

The door swung open, and Leo Van Beest barreled across the threshold. “Ellen!” He spread out his arms, but she was too weak to stand up. Instead, she just sobbed into her hands. He placed his own big mitts on her heaving shoulders. Tears were trailing down his cheeks. “Oh my, oh my, oh my!”

Leo had never been as tall as his son, had never had quite the athletic prowess. He’d played two seasons in the NBA before being cut, spent the next fifteen years overseas, always hoping to have that one magic season that would make the scouts back home stand up and take notice again. In his young years, at six-seven, he’d been as versatile at shooting guard as at small forward. But time had not been kind to him. He was now rotund, leathery, and gray. Looked like an oversize medicine ball. Sweat beaded his brow. He pulled out a handkerchief and dried off his face.

“How’d this happen?” he demanded of Dorothy.

“We’re still investigating-”

“I don’t want bullshit! I want answers!”

“And I will be happy to give them to you as soon as I know something.”

“That’s bullshit!”

Dorothy started to speak but thought better of it.

“What motherfucker shot my son?”

“We’re still sorting out the details.”

“I want that motherfucker strung up by his neck, you understand what I’m saying?”

“Yes, sir, I do.”

“And if you people ain’t gonna do it, I know people who will.”

“Sir, the police are in control. We will find the perpetrator, I promise you.”

“Yeah, I know what a promise from the police is worth.”

Again, Dorothy didn’t reply.

Leo’s lower lip trembled. “Where is he? My son!”

“Oh Lord.” Ellen started to cry. “I can’t look at him like that, Leo. I just can’t do it!”

“I know, Ellen. I’ll do whatever needs to be done. You don’t have to do it. I’ll do it.” He faced Dorothy. “I want to see him!”

“I’ll see what I can arrange.”

“Yeah, you go do that!” Leo ordered. “You arrange it right away, Detective. Right now! ”Cause Julius don’t belong here at a police station. You understand? My son don’t belong here.“ He started to cry. ”He don’t belong here!“

Helpless, Dorothy watched their pain and misery, making her problems appear very small. “Can I call someone for either of you? A minister maybe?”

“Pastor Ewing,” Ellen said.

“Church of the Faith,” Leo added. “He can help with… with what needs help with.”

“He can make the arrangements.” Ellen wiped off her face. In a clear voice, she announced to her husband that she’d accompany him to the morgue.

“You don’t have to do it, Ellen,” Leo said. “You don’t have to.”

“I know, but I’ll do it anyway.” She stood up, swayed a moment, but then regained her balance. “We brought him into the world together. We should say good-bye together.”

“Well, that was a total bust!”

Even over her crackling cell, Dorothy heard the frustration in her partner’s voice. “Spring Mathers wasn’t home?”

“She never made it home,” McCain said. “And I had to be the one to tell her parents about the shooting in the club. They hadn’t a clue. They thought she was asleep, all tucked in cozy and warm. They charged into her bedroom, and when they found her bed still made up, they freaked. Started calling everyone they could think of to find out where she was.”

“Oh boy.”

“Yeah, oh boy!” McCain griped. “So instead of finding the one witness who may have been with Julius when he was shot, we now got a pair of hysterical parents who are filing a missing-person report and demanding answers. I’ll tell you, Dorothy, this one’s gonna bite the town in the ass. College is our tourist trade. Parents get too scared to send their kids here, we’re in trouble. I’m not talking about Harvard or MIT. Cambridge is its own fiefdom. BU is an institution, sure. But what about all the Boston schools that feed off those babies?”