Turn Up The Night Pt 06 07 Ch 14 16

14

Mid-afternoon Monday, I pulled in for gas and something to eat. I'd been on the road a couple of hours since Roanoke Rapids. I was still south of DC but I was already hungry and didn't want to have to stop any closer to that city than I already was. I opened my phone and saw there was a message from Kim2.

--They're moving forward. An alert went out on your car. Interstate--

I'd started to have second thoughts about Kim, what she was up to, but here she was trying to give me a heads-up about the alert. It restored my faith some. It had been a wrong move to leave town in the first place, I now believed, but I had seen Kim's point and willingly gone with her suggestion. Now it seemed obvious to me that getting out in front of it all--starting with volunteering my DNA--was the best approach to neutralizing Krapke and Booth and their grubby little scheme.

I replied to Kim:

--Thanks, they caught up with me already. I'm headed home--

I was in the narrow dining-room of a sandwich shop attached to the gas station when Kim replied.

--!!! How'd that go?--

--No problem. Came up as part of another death investigation--

There was a five minute gap, then:

--Busy vacay you're having--

--Place I was staying had a death in the family. Anyway I want to submit my DNA sample--

Another minute or so, then Kim sent:

--Haven't talked to Penny yet. I think she's key--

--Agree but better to get out there not wait to react. Looks more 'innocent' (which I am)--

--I guess they'll get it one way or another. Go to the coroner's office. Not through police--

--Ok--

I didn't bother mentioning to Kim that I wanted to speak to Penny Booth myself. I didn't suppose it mattered much which of us got to her first, though I would prefer it to be me.

The Coroner's office was on the third floor of a vanilla building at the county government 'complex.' It took the receptionist a while to understand why I was there. I guess no one goes there voluntarily and offers a DNA sample.

"You haven't been charged or arrested?"

"Nope."

I explained there was an open inquiry into the death of Suzanne Morris and I understood there were complications, complications that might implicate me, so I was there to clear my name.

The receptionist called her boss who eventually came out to the reception area. He introduced himself as Mike Heigel, chief medical examiner. He looked to be in his late fifties, maybe early sixties, balding on top, small glasses, portly. I explained--in very general terms--why I wanted to submit my DNA. He took me down to the basement lab, which was next-door to the refrigerated morgue. He called over a technician, a young woman, and between the three of us we were able to agree that there was no reason I couldn't submit a sample even though no one had asked.

"I think the request will be coming before long, anyway," I said.

"Court order," Heigel said, and the young technician nodded vigorously in agreement. Heigel went on, "They'll need a court order if they haven't arrested you yet. And for that they'll need probable cause. And for

that

, they'll need a report from our office telling them the cause of death was directly or indirectly related to trauma due to rape. You're telling me there was no rape. I haven't seen any preliminary findings from the autopsy yet, but we don't draw conclusions like rape lightly. It's a hot issue, has been for some years now. Many a lawsuit's been filed, the result being a DNA match by itself isn't good enough to charge--let alone convict--with rape or any kind of sexual battery."

For a moment, like feeling a sudden breeze from an open window on a warm spring day, I felt a surge of optimism. Also (and a strange sensation for me) of civic pride that parts of the system still functioned on a level of common sense the media would have you believe had left the collective consciousness a decade ago or more.

"That sounds reassuringly logical," I said, and I couldn't keep the note of surprise from my voice.

"We try to maintain some sanity," Heigel said. "Some cops are too eager, assume the worst of people, which is kind of their job, I suppose, and the same goes for prosecutors and DA's of a certain mentality. But the system has ways of cooling their jets. It's not perfect, but I like to think we're an essential component in the administration of justice."

"Well, good," I said. "So if you take my sample and it matches, which it will, do you think my volunteering the sample will make a difference?"

"That I can't say. The best you can hope for, should it ever get that far, is that you have a jury of intelligent people who can reason their way out of a paper bag."

"So, no guarantees."

He smiled cheerfully. "Precisely! But have faith all the same."

We shook hands and he gave me his card, then he left me alone with the young woman, who said, "Swab or needle-prick?"

15

A little after nine on Wednesday morning, I watched Kevin Booth leave his house on Orchard Avenue and drive away in the Toyota parked out front. I'd walked the four blocks from my house on Chestnut and for the last half hour had been circling the block containing Suzanne's and Booth's houses. Occasionally I crossed to the block opposite, or cut down the mid-block alleys, to lower the chances I'd be noticed making multiple passes on the same block.

On one of these meandering circuits, in the alley where I'd first encountered Suzanne, I'd noticed a second car parked at the Booth residence, tucked onto a short gravel driveway off the alley, fenced on three sides with chain link. Penny's car, I presumed.

I gave it ten more minutes then rang the front-door bell. It was answered, eventually, by a woman in large glasses wearing a shapeless dress cinched somewhere between the hips and ribs by an unforgiving elasticated waistband. The dress was patterned with a print of tiny flowers in white and pink and faded purple. The over-all effect was gray. Her hair was dark gray, shoulder-length, but it was damp, too, so I might have been wrong about the color. Her face was almost ashen in sympathy with her hair and dress.

"Good morning," I said. "Sorry to bother you so early. You must be Penny? I met your husband Kevin last week."

"You just missed him. He left for work already."

"That's too bad. But I actually wanted to speak to you, too, if you have a moment."

"Who are you?"

Her expression was wary, her eyes set back in deep sockets, unless that was an effect of doorway gloom or the shadows thrown by the frames of her big glasses; hard to tell. I noticed because I was interested to see how she would react when I said, "My name's Freddie Puck."

As a solitary woman answering the door to a man she presumably believed to be a violent sexual predator, you might imagine there would be an immediate recoil, possibly a moment of panic, then a lunge for the telephone or perhaps a scream for help. The fact that Penny Booth did none of these things told me plenty about what she knew.

There was a reaction, all right, but I couldn't read it at first. In amongst the shadows there was fear, or more accurately apprehension, but there was something else, too, something like a suspicion confirmed or an expectation come to pass. I didn't know what to make of it.

Penny glanced out the door at the street then stepped back to open the door wide. "You better come in."

"Thanks."

Her bare feet slapping in rubber flip-flops, she led me through to the back of the house and a small kitchen with a breakfast bar and two high stools. The outside kitchen wall had been replaced with sliding glass doors out to the screened porch where I'd first spotted Kevin.

In an otherwise empty corner of the kitchen was a dog's bed and in it, snoozing, was Suzanne's Molly.

"Have a seat," Penny said, pointing to one of the stools and collecting a plate and mug presumably left by Kevin. "Want some coffee?"

"Sure, thanks, as long it's not putting you out. I don't want to hold you up if you need to be getting out to work."

"Ha, that's no longer a factor."

"Oh?"

"I was let go when I refused to take their stupid shot last year."

"Sorry to hear that. I think you made the right decision, though, whatever that's worth."

"Oh, I know I did. I already know two people affected by it. One young guy dropped dead within two weeks, another woman miscarried and they're finding cysts all over her reproductive organs."

"It's a crime," I said.

"And they'll never hold anyone accountable," she said. "You take milk and sugar?"

"Just milk. A splash."

The coffee was tepid--probably brewed three hours earlier--but tasted good in the way that all gestures of hospitality do. Penny had already relaxed a little. It helps when you know your visitor isn't a rapist.

"I guess you know I'm here about Suzanne, right?"

"I'm kind of tired of talking about this. Police came round again yesterday."

"Yeah? What's their take on it?"

She wouldn't know I had a source inside the department, which would be why she said, "They're doing an inquiry for the coroner's office, routine stuff. This gal wanted to know what kind of treatments Suzanne was on, who prescribed what, who administered doses and when. That kind of thing. I told her the coroner's office requests that directly. Any case, I already talked to them last week. The cops, I mean. This gal was behind the curve, kind of clueless."

That's my Kim: smart to play it dumb.

"Suzanne told me you and Kevin helped her out a lot, you especially, with her treatments and all."

"She was on a lot of meds. She needed transfusions every so often. I looked out for her. She's family after all."

"Is that right?"

"My dad's sister. The only one of his generation left. I mean, until now."

"I'm sorry for your loss," I said.

Penny hadn't sat on the stool next to me, they were too close together to be appropriate for a strange caller, but she wasn't far away, standing down at the end of the counter with her back to the sliding door. Sunlight was slanting in through the porch beyond her, and a sliver of it caught the skirt of her dress. The material was thin and the outline of her calves and lower thighs was distinct in silhouette. She was resting her hand on the breakfast bar and now cocked her hip, placing her other hand on the outswinging curve.

"Well. Thank you," she said. She looked at me then looked away quickly and I knew there was conflict inside her. I decided to go for it.

"I had a visit from the police last week, too."

The skin around her jaw tightened as she clenched her teeth. Her eyes widened briefly and she couldn't help looking at me again.

"Why was that?"

"Well, they wouldn't come out and say as much but they strongly implied they thought I had something to do with Suzanne's death."

This seemed to fit for her, because she suddenly looked confident again.

"Kev says you raped her."

"Is that what you think?"

"How should I know? Did you?"

"Would you really let me in your house, give me coffee if you believed I raped your aunt?"

The confidence turned out to be fleeting. She worked her shoulders, one after the other, like she was trying to shrug something off.

"They're running tests, see if it was you."

"You mean a rape kit? I figured they'd have to do something like that. So yesterday I went in and volunteered my DNA sample."

She gave me a sharp look.

"You did?"

"Over at the coroner's office or whatever they call it. Doctor Heigel, the guy I spoke to. Nice fella."

That hung in the air like skunk.

Penny crossed her arms now, tight beneath her little breasts. "I guess you don't look much like a rapist. Not that I'd know."

"Thanks. I'll take that as a compliment."

"But you did rape my aunt." Trying again, as if to convince herself this time.

"Is that so? How do you figure?"

"You show up out of nowhere, spend two hours with her, next we see her she's dead in her chair."

"And where does the rape part come in? Who said anything about rape?"

"You don't deny you had sex with her?"

"I don't deny it at all."

As I spoke I recalled Suzanne, and I couldn't help smiling. Penny's expression was inscrutable. She gave a little gasp but quickly arrested it.

"Consenting adults," I said. "The concept goes back a long way."

"And when you left, she was just fine, huh?"

"I would say better than just fine. She was, I don't know, serene? We talked about getting together again soon. I left her my number, but perhaps you already knew about that?"

I didn't know this would be the breakthrough, but I'd sensed it was coming sooner or later.

"Oh, Jesus, I can't do this anymore."

Her right hand went up to cover her mouth, which was curling down sharply at the corners. I couldn't tell if tears were on their way, or if Penny's expression was just a grimace of despair.

"Hey, what is it?"

"I just can't do it," she said. Now her hand moved down from her mouth and with her fingertips bunched she was tapping at her chest just above the lowest of three buttons that created a V-neck to her dress. She wasn't crying, I could see now, she simply looked miserable, and so weary that perhaps she had no energy left to cry. I slid off my stool and took two paces to be standing right in front of her.

"Penny, do what?"

She looked up into my eyes then looked down and away. "It's gone on so long. I'm so tired of it."

"Of what?"

"So tired of defending my family from him."

"Are you talking about Kevin?"

Her head slumped forward into my chest and the tears finally came. I reached for her upper arms and held them, holding her upright, but her body crumpled forward and her arms fell around my waist until what we were sharing, out of nowhere, was a full embrace.

She really gave herself up to it. The sobs just kept coming; the breaths in between were labored and anguished. It could have been years' worth of unexpressed...what? Grief? Anger? Guilt? She probably couldn't have distinguished between them at this point.

I just stood there and held her, my face in her damp hair, breathing in the scent of apples. I realized she must have just gotten out of the shower when she came down to answer the door to me. Thrown this baggy dress over her partially toweled body.

Women in distress have always been a reliable turn-on. (I believe this is why so many women have adapted to be able to cry on demand with zero authentic emotion.) Mr. Johnson had tunneled to the lower opening of my shorts and was now straining towards my knee-cap inside my khakis. But the sudden realization that Penny was most likely naked underneath this flimsy dress put some extra inches on the tape. A slight shift in her stance resulted in portions of her lower abdomen and upper thigh aligning with the marauder. By now she could have been in no doubt about the effect she was having.

I ran my hand gently across Penny's back in search of a bra strap. As I suspected, there was none. I kissed the top of her head. Penny tightened her hold on me, hugging me to her like a child's beloved teddy bear.

I reached for the tip of her chin and lifted her face towards mine. The crying had done wonders for the coloring of her face. The ashen look was gone, replaced by pink spots on her cheeks; her eyes now sparkled with tears and her pupils were wide in curious anticipation.

I kissed her lips very gently.

"Penny," I said softly, "Are you saying you've been pressured? What's going on?"

Her voice, when it came, was hoarse at first.

"It's been years now. Ever since we found out Suzanne was loaded after the divorce. Kevin, he changed. He's never been the same. He knew I might inherit from her but he also knew Matt--Suzanne's son--would be first in line. He thought if we could be, I don't know,

useful

to her, then Suzanne would for sure want to leave me something."

Her face was contorting again as she contemplated her memories. I kissed her forehead, her eyebrow, her temple. "Why don't you sit down?"

She climbed onto a stool and looked at me, forlorn.

I said, "Suzanne's condition, was that natural or, or was she poisoned?"

Her eyes went wide again. "Why would you think that?"

"I'm looking for a reason why it would be so important to Kevin to want to frame me."

I was going on instinct, feeling my way in the dark, but Penny's reactions told me I was on track.

She let out a long sigh and her shoulders sagged.

"She was sick at first. The doctors were having trouble diagnosing her. Kevin said, that's our opportunity. With me at the clinic, knowing medical stuff, nurse stuff, he said it's like fate giving us the green light."

"Kevin wanted to speed things up? How did you feel about it?"

"Well, I can't deny I wanted some of that money. I guess that makes me evil."

"Not evil. There's not a man or woman ever lived who wouldn't have had that thought. It's part of being human, what makes us less than God. The point is to make the right choices."

"Well, that's where I failed," Penny said. "Medical training, you learn how to do things right by learning what can go wrong. Dosages, mostly. Most of the medical errors that occur are improperly administered medications. I mean, it's wide open for abuse, if that's what you have in mind."

I nodded.

"I insisted we do it slowly, I can at least say that much for myself. Which isn't a lot, I know. In the meantime we tried to do everything we could to help Suzanne, you know? The house next door came on the market and it was like another sign. We encouraged her to move in so we could help her out even more. Oh, God, it was so evil of us."

A question occurred to me and it was suddenly very important to know the answer.

"Do you and Kevin have children?"

Penny's mouth turned down at the corners again and I was sure the tears were about to break out. But instead she gasped a little, choking them back, and said, "No. That's what's behind all of this. It gave me chills just now when you asked that."

"That's when things went wrong for you two?"

She nodded but didn't trust herself to answer right away. In a moment or two she collected herself and continued, though by now I think I'd seen the landscape in full.

"Kevin didn't really adjust. I guess it was a hope we both shared and then we found out it wasn't going to happen. Things got very dark for us."

I could imagine. I didn't want to hear the details.

"When you lost your job," I said, "at the clinic? That must have thrown a wrench in your plans."

"Honestly I was relieved. I thought we could walk away from it, actually be good to Suzanne all the way around. Maybe even help her get better."

"Kevin didn't see it that way?"

"I guess he did at first because he couldn't see what else to do. Then you showed up and he was, I don't know, like a wild man. He stayed up all night, that day you were next door. Next morning when I woke up I thought he'd done something terrible. His eyes were just, just wild, I mean I don't know how else to say it. He kept saying, it's a sacrifice, Penny, it's a sacrifice we have to make, that's all."

"What did he mean by that?

She looked me right in the eyes.

"He was talking about you."

The overwhelming sensation, as Penny led me up to bed, was sadness. It's not that either of us would back away now--the course had been set downstairs in the kitchen--but the intervening revelations had sent us off course from a turbulent river into a still lagoon, deep and wide, dark and purposeless, going nowhere. We had to paddle back to rejoin the natural flow.

Fortunately, Penny's passions--of all kinds--had been thoroughly stirred, and the ragged and raw emotional edges she was experiencing seemed to have revivified her. Put another way, she was all over me.

"Do you have a spare room?" I said between savage kisses.

"Down the hall."