Faye Kellerman - Prayers for the Dead

Tears spilled down Waterson’s cheeks. “I don’t need help. I didn’t do anything.”

“You did do something, Mr. Waterson,” Martinez said. “We all here know you did do something. You contracted murder-”

“No…” Waterson shook his head. “No, it wasn’t supposed to happen like that.”

“But that’s how it happened.”

Martinez said, “How much did you pay them?”

Waterson was quiet.

“I got receipts from your account,” Gaynor spoke up. “Which match up nicely with money that had been withdrawn from Dolly Sparks’s account. Ten grand in and out right before Azor died. Ten grand in and out right after Azor died. And for good measure, a final ten withdrawn just last Friday-the day after Dr. Reginald Decameron died.”

Waterson wiped tears from his cheek. “Abominations before the Lord. Both of them.”

“How’d you find out about Azor’s inclinations?” Webster asked.

Waterson lowered his head. “Azor had called me…to talk about estate planning. At least, that’s what he said. A strange call because his affairs seemed to be in order.”

A long pause.

“He told me he had some changes in mind. Setting up separate accounts for Curedon once it hit the market. Accounts in his name only. Separate property…as opposed to community property. Naturally, I asked him why.”

Another hesitation.

“Then he just…blurted it out. I was…stunned…repulsed.”

He looked beseechingly at Kent.

“What really disgusted me was his complete…lack of remorse. He told me he was going to drop out for a while to think over who he was. He was planning to do evil in the form of an abomination…and he spoke as if he needed a simple vacation.”

Waterson’s eyes became hot flames.

“He was going to leave her…just like that. Forty years of marriage and suddenly, he was going to desert her. How could he do that?”

Webster said, “Must have pissed you off. Especially since you stuck with your wife through thick and thin.”

“You’d better believe it pissed me off,” Waterson spat. “But that was Azor. An egotist who thought he was God. I couldn’t let him do that to Dolly. At the very least, I had to warn her.”

“So you told her Azor’s plans to drop out,” Martinez said.

“Of course, I told her. She was entitled to know.”

“What’d she say?”

“She was in shock. Utter, complete shock!” Waterson’s lower lip trembled. “I couldn’t stand to see her in such pain. He was going to ruin her life, everything she worked so hard for. Don’t you understand anything!”

“Of course, we understand, Mr. Waterson.” Martinez nodded encouragingly. “Whose idea was it to kill him?”

Waterson was silent.

“Mr. Waterson, whose idea was-”

“I heard you.”

The cops waited for him to continue.

Waterson said, “That was never the plan.”

“Then what was the plan?” Webster asked.

Waterson buried his head in his hands. “What difference does it make? I told her I’d take care of things.” Again, he looked at Kent. “Dear God, what is to become of my damnable soul?”

“You want a lawyer now, Mr. Waterson?”

Waterson didn’t answer.

Kent said, “Let’s give you some representation, sir. Then perhaps I can help you.”

Waterson looked at Kent. “I’m a sixty-three-year-old man. Even if you’d plead it down to life in prison, eligible for parole in twenty…what does that make me…eighty-three? Assuming I can last that long.” His eyes were filled with tears. “I’ve had enough hardship. I think I’d rather die.”

“What about the monsters who killed without remorse?” The DA sat next to Waterson. “Don’t let the real sinners go unpunished. That’s a crime even Jesus could not forgive.”

“What kind of a life do I have in prison?”

“A chance to serve God, sir. A chance to do penance. Do penance here on earth, sir. And Jesus will forgive you. Take you into His bosom and save you from eternal damnation.”

The room fell silent. Slowly, Waterson nodded. Kent summoned someone from the PD’s office. Within an hour, everything was set into place.

The public defender was Gilda Rosen-thirtysomething, tall and dark, and dressed in a red power suit. She had Waterson sign on the dotted line. For turning state’s witness, he was spared the death penalty.

Waterson spoke in a monotone.

“I have known Azor Moses Sparks for many, many years and had always regarded him as a pillar of our community. A leader in his field of medicine, an active and forceful member of our church, a devoted father of six children, and a loving husband.”

He looked at the glass of water in front of him. Made no attempt to drink.

“When my wife…got sick, I looked to Azor for support both emotionally and medically. And he seemed generous with his help. Set up appointments for me with the best doctors, reviewed their opinions, informed us of our options, assured us both that everything was going to be all right.”

He sighed deeply.

“And we believed him. After all, he was one of the top physicians in this country. We believed him, all right.”

Waterson stared into his water glass.

“Even when my wife’s kidneys failed, he said everything was under control. He said not to worry.”

He looked up, tears in his eyes.

“He lied to me…everything was not all right. Nothing was under control!”

The room was silent.

Waterson said, “I know there’s only so much man can do. But why didn’t he just tell us that! Instead, he chose to represent himself as God…giving us false hope…lying to us day after day after day. Meanwhile, Ellen was deteriorating. She needed a transplant.”

He wiped his cheeks.

“Azor found a donor. But he didn’t do the surgery. Instead, he sent us to someone else who charged exorbitant fees. Sent our insurance rates sky-high. By the time the second surgery came around, our insurance company canceled on us.”

“They can do that?” Martinez asked.

“Oh yes, they can do that.” Waterson perked up, had found a sympathetic ear. “Enough to make your blood boil. You pay out premiums and then when they’ve had enough, they cancel on you.”

“Terrible,” Webster agreed.

“That doesn’t even begin to describe it, Detective,” Waterson said. “I was a desperate man. I begged Azor to do the surgery himself. Because I couldn’t afford another surgery without bankrupting myself. But he wouldn’t do it. He just refused to do it!”

Waterson growled with anger.

“He made excuses. Said it wasn’t his bailiwick. Said he had misgivings about operating on such a close friend.” The lawyer thumped his fist against the table. “Don’t you see? It was all a frameup because he knew he had failed.”

“Failed?” Webster asked.

“He knew from the beginning that she was going to die.”

“Mr. Waterson,” Kent said, “we all die-”

“He gave me hope only to let me down. He failed my wife. He failed me! When he was going to fail his own wife, it was just too much…the pain this man was spewing into the world.” Waterson wagged a finger. “Enough was enough.”

No one spoke for a moment.

“I was appalled when he told me he was of that persuasion. He told me he had never acted out, that he was leaving to sort out his feelings. But I didn’t believe him for a second.”

“Not a second, huh?” Webster said.

“Not a single second!” Waterson snapped back. “After what he did to my wife and me, Azor had zero credibility. Besides, one only had to look at whom he kept in his employ even after the man was shown to be a pervert. At that point, it was obvious why Azor remained loyal to such an abominable sinner.”