Too Far Gone

100

The wind buffeted the car mercilessly. The rain was being driven horizontally and the trees and bushes seemed to be trying their best to get their roots out of the earth and fly. It was impossible for her wipers-as often lifted by the wind as not-to do their job.

Alexa had gotten lost on several occasions because the GPS lady was no longer functioning, but since her cell phone was, she finally called Casey to get directions to her house. She wouldn’t have been surprised to learn that the GPS satellite had been knocked out of the sky, but it was just as likely faulty FBI equipment.

When Alexa finally turned onto Casey’s street, she was sure the Bucar would overturn. It was impossible to see twenty feet ahead of the car, but Casey’s house was as easy to find as an Easter egg on white carpeting.

As Alexa fought her way to Casey’s gate, the rain stung her skin like BB’s. She was drenched before she even rang the bell, and was let inside the house by the guard.

Casey was standing at the entrance to the hallway, wearing a robe, holding Deana on her hip like an ornament. “I’m glad you called me,” she said. “You’ll be safe here with us until this passes. Here, you need a towel. I meant to call you as soon as I heard about your ordeal in the swamps, but as you might imagine, I’ve been…” She left the rest unsaid and a tear rolled down her cheek. “I’m glad you missed your flight, Alexa. Is that selfish of me?”

“Thanks for letting me come. It’s a far more attractive refuge than the Superdome.”

“You must stay with us. We missed our window to fly out. I suppose you’re here because you’ve heard about Gary? My poor Gary.”

“Gary?”

“Stroke during the flight to Mayo. We have to have faith that he will regain everything the assault and this stroke have taken from him. It will take years of rehabilitation, but it’s obvious he’ll never be the same. I’ll fly to be with him tomorrow, if the plane is still in the hangar. Hell, if the hangar is still standing tomorrow.”

“Dr. LePointe told me you were riding out the storm,” Alexa said, not sure if she should call him Casey’s uncle or her father.

Casey frowned. “Unko hates storms. I’m sure they bring back unpleasant memories. What took you by Unko’s?”

“I went by to let him know I’ll be doing everything I can to put him in prison. He deserves to be in prison for life.”

“I wish you all the success in the world. That’s a terrible thing to say. But I mean it.”

“Are you alone, Casey?”

“At the moment, except for the kitchen help and Edgar, my remaining security guard, we’re alone. It will be nice having a friend here to huddle with.”

Casey led Alexa to the kitchen. “Ahm not you fren,” Deana said, sticking out her bottom lip at Alexa.

“Shouldn’t you have gotten Deana out?”

“She’s perfectly safe with me here. So are you. Deana, Alexa is your friend. She saved your father’s life. She’s Mommy’s very best friend ever. Aren’t you, Alexa?”

“I hope so,” Alexa said.

Casey put her daughter in her high chair and handed the child three cookies to keep her occupied. Retrieving her abandoned martini, she turned to Alexa and asked, “Coffee? Or a stiff one?”

“Nothing for me,” Alexa told her.

“Just a sec,” Casey said, and went to the laundry room, returning with a pair of dry jeans. “These may be a bit large, but you can roll the cuffs.”

“I’ll change in a few minutes.”

A maid entered the room, and busied herself preparing coffee.

“So tell me everything that happened,” Casey urged. “I heard some of it from Chief Evans. It’s terrible about those two detectives. I’m going to hire the very best doctors for them and we’ll send them wherever they need to go to be made whole. After all they did for us, it’s the least I can do. And I want to do something for you. Name something, Alexa, anything.”

“You don’t have anything I need.”

Casey’s smile vanished and she gave Alexa a hurt look. “Is it an insult to offer? It isn’t like I’m trying to buy you, really. You’ve done so much for me…”

“There is one thing.”

“Name it.”

“Talk to me. Now.”

“I know we have a lot to talk about, but is now a good time?” She waved her hand absently at the storm outside. “We have all night.”

“I’d feel better getting it out of the way now.”

“You want me to hear what that woman had to say?”

“I think you should. Alone,” Alexa said, turning her eyes toward the maid.

Casey tilted her head and studied Alexa thoughtfully. “Mary, watch Deana. Please, follow me,” Casey told Alexa.

Alexa followed Casey down a long, glassed-in corridor with a view of a garden on either side. The limbs of the trees rocked violently. Leaves had long since flown from the branches, the flowers were all stripped of their petals. The corridor ended in a pool house, which would have made a wonderful home for a family of five. There, Alexa played the tape of Sibby’s interview while Casey listened intently. After it was over, Alexa turned it off.

“Fucker man,” Casey said, exhaling loudly. “So he…”

“He killed your parents. I believe Sibby. She’s fought to remember it all these years.”

“But she can’t testify, can she?”

“No, not any time soon. There’s some areas to explore, along the lines of corroboration from witnesses and sources, but I’m not sure about the fine points of law.” Alexa told Casey about finding the missing diary pages. Taking the plastic-sleeved pages from her purse, she handed them to her to read.

“I don’t want fingerprints on them, other than those that may be on them already.”

After reading the pages twice, Casey handed them back to Alexa. “That’s horrible. Beyond horrible. Did you play the tape for my uncle?”

“Yes, I did.”

“You showed him these pages?”

“No. But he knows they exist.”

“Did he admit anything?”

“He is under the illusion that Sibby’s words are not going to hurt him.”

“There’s no justice,” Casey said sadly.

“There is only setting things right. A lack of justice could work to your advantage.”

“What do you mean?”

“Your uncle told me some disturbing things. I didn’t want to believe them, but I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, and what he said makes a great deal of sense. Too much sense.”

“Do explain.”

Alexa felt the chill gathering in the room. “It’s about an actress who’s been playing a very challenging part-victim, sensitive artist, bereaved and loving wife. Perfect mother.”

Casey stared at her, her expression unreadable.

“You really had me going, Casey. You really did. Trouble is, things don’t really add up.”

“You’ve been talking to Uncle William. He’s a cagey and a professional-quality liar. He hates me.”

“You told the press the diary was authentic. Is it true that the prenuptial you told me all about is void now because Gary is incapacitated? Did you force William out of his position and take his place today? I’m getting a disturbing picture, a nasty interpretation of events that looks like motive.”

“Let’s continue this talk in the sauna.”

“The sauna?”

“It’s more private.”

“You think I’m wired?”

“Don’t be silly, Alexa. We’re dear friends. Leave your purse on the table.” Casey opened a door, and Alexa could see into a room where a blond-wood bench held a neat stack of linens. Across the room, a tiled enclosure area had two showerheads and a drain in the floor. A wooden door with an opaque glass panel obviously led to the sauna.

“It helps me relax. Take off your clothes, wrap up in a bath sheet, and we’ll talk. Unless we’ve talked enough.”

Alexa said, “I’m here because I want to talk this out. Because you matter to me, and I think after all I’ve been through that I deserve to know.”

“Fine. Why does it matter where we are when we talk?”

While Alexa undressed, Casey watched her with a serious expression, studying her bruises.

“You’ve had a rough couple of days.”

“Comes with the job.” Alexa took the top sheet and wrapped her body, tucking it above her breasts. Casey slipped out of her robe and Alexa was somewhat surprised to see that her hostess hadn’t been wearing anything else.

Casey opened the door to the sauna. The walls, ceiling, and floor were tiled in limestone. A wide stone slab ran along three walls, forming a bench. Casey poured a dipper of water on the kiosk filled with heated stones, sat across from the door, pulled her feet up so her heels rested against her buttocks, and leaned back against the wall.

The light went out.

“We just lost power,” Casey said in the pitch-blackness.

The light came back on before she’d finished saying it.

“We have a generator that runs on natural gas. Let’s talk.” She patted the bench beside her.

Alexa sat close enough to give the impression of intimacy, but far enough away so someone could have fit between them. If LePointe was right about Casey, Alexa felt she might talk about it because she had won, and there was nothing Alexa could present as evidence that could tie her into anything. Once Casey walked out the door, the conversation was her word against Alexa’s, and Alexa knew she couldn’t win in a battle against Casey West and her lawyers.

Alexa began, “Before I went to your uncle’s earlier, everything fit neatly, but after I listened to his vitriolic diatribe, I had a problem. Until I learned about the covenant and your prenuptial escape clause, you were without any motive.”

Casey sipped her martini. “I’m listening.”

“I know you killed Grace, I just don’t know how.”

Casey raised her eyebrows. “But you said the coroner ruled she killed herself.”

“So it appears.”

“Take off your sheet,” Casey said.

“You know I’m not wired, Casey.”

“You want your pores to open, to get the full benefit.”

“My pores are fine semiclosed,” Alexa said.

“Humor me, Alexa. Don’t tell me you’re shy. I’ve already seen your body. It’s a very nice one. You take very good care of yourself.”

Why not? Alexa stood, undid the tuck above her breasts, and let the sheet slip to the floor.

“You have a very nice body,” Casey repeated. “You hide it in those silly, off-the-rack business suits. The right tailoring would do wonders for you. I’ll take you shopping soon. Just the two of us.”

“Thanks. I have to stay in shape,” Alexa said, sitting and raising her feet to mirror Casey’s pose. “I like the suits I wear.” The heat was making her drowsy because she hadn’t slept in a very long time. “I guess I am guilty of liking you too much, of feeling we were close based on common experience. I wanted too much to believe you were what you seemed. It blinded me.”

“We’re a lot alike,” Casey said. “Possibly more than either of us imagines.”

Because you imagine that what I did to my sister was comparable to what you did to your father? That was different, very different.

“Do you have any illusions that this talk will lead to my arrest?”

Alexa shrugged. “Bringing charges would be very difficult, if not impossible. You were very smart. The witnesses are either dead or uninformed as to your involvement. There’s no one left to testify against you. William won’t because of the remote possibility you’ll forgive him in the future.”

“So he can destroy me,” Casey said. “That will never happen.”

“I doubt he has anything he can blackmail you with. Not yet anyway. He has a lot of possible directions. He thinks he’s playing a chess game.”

“You have old Willie Boy pegged. Can you make a case against him for what he did to my mother and father? What he did to Sibby?”

“I’m going to try. And if I do, he’ll try to take you down with him. Anyway, you said it yourself-there is no justice.”

“I really do like talking to you,” Casey said, taking a sip and putting down the glass. “You have this way of making me want to be honest with you.”

Alexa said, “Honesty is probably all but impossible for you, Casey. I do understand why, and my heart goes out to you. I think what you did is cold and horrible, and I hate what you did, but…”

“You empathize.” Casey put her open hands to her chest. “Dahlin’, that all means a lot more to little ole me than you can imagine. I’ve been alone all my life and you know better than anybody what my uncle did to my parents. You are the one who found the missing pages at Andy’s.”

“I didn’t say I found the pages at Andy’s apartment,” Alexa said, leaning back casually.

“Of course you did. How else would I have known?”

“Beats me, since we haven’t discussed Andy Tinsdale, or should I say Andy Fugate. You looked at his picture and said you only knew him as an orderly, which ensured I would find his apartment and the pages. It was a needless lie, Casey. You could have told me who he was and slammed that door closed, the way you did so many others. I would have found out you knew him anyway, which would have been worse.”

“You can’t plan everything perfectly.” Casey took another sip of her martini. “Obviously I’m too tired to talk candidly. Or without an attorney present. I had a thought today. Decell’s gone. It occurs to me that the LePointe trusts could use a security director with FBI experience. At a salary commensurate with the responsibility.”

“You offering me a bribe?”

“Goodness, no. A job. You’d be perfect.”

“That’s tempting. But wouldn’t I be under your thumb? Like Grace was?”

“That’s not nice,” Casey said. “The money would simply be commensurate with your law enforcement experience.”

“I make all I need.”

“Eighty-nine thousand, six hundred, and forty-one dollars last year before taxes. And you have almost a hundred thousand in your retirement accounts, another fifty in stocks and bonds. You live in a rented apartment all by your lonesome in Washington. You have no family to speak of, and workaholics make few friends. It must be awful. I could pay you five hundred thousand a year on a twenty-year contract. And you could have whatever perks and private entanglements you liked.”

“That’s tempting,” Alexa said. “But there’s Grace.”

“Grace, Grace, Grace.”

“You murdered her. You are the only one with the access to the money I found at her home. Who else could afford to walk away from it after it had served its purpose as a very clever prop?”

“Fifty thousand is a lot for anybody to walk away from.”

“Not for you. You paid thirty grand for a boat for a lunatic psychopathic swamp dweller.”

“I’ve never bought a boat in my life.”

“Okay, you bought it through Andy.”

“I barely knew the man.”

“Unko told me about the garden-shed incident.”

“He didn’t tell you that!” Casey squealed. “That old bastard. Well, I did tell you about Dr. Fuckerman. Andy Fugate was a very accommodating man, with extremely limited prospects.”

“Other than blackmail.”

“No big deal. I suppose I paid him to look the other way-help me make a few portraits of people I didn’t have releases from until he got them for me. He was not kind to the inmates, in ways you wouldn’t believe. He was a truly despicable individual.”

“Nurse Fugate didn’t recognize Leland in your exhibition?”

“Dorothy never saw any of my work as far as I know. She certainly didn’t attend the exhibition in Zurich where I showed that portrait, and she wouldn’t have had access to the catalog. Unko wasn’t there either. He’d have shit a brick. He treated Leland. So before we go any further, is this an interrogation or a job interview?”

Alexa said, “Just humor me. I just want to know how competent I am. We both know I can’t make this case.”

“This is between the two of us and the walls?” Casey said. “Andy was sometimes in town in the summers. More when we were younger. I think Dorothy wasn’t fond of having him around, because he was a reminder of something she didn’t like thinking about. He was a bastard in more ways than one. I couldn’t stand the sight of him.” Casey giggled. “He always wanted to play doctor, and guess who was the patient? He resented his mother since she treated him like a leper. Face it, they both imagined she would marry Unko after Sarah died and they’d win the blue-blood lottery.

“I suppose I tolerated Andy’s company because he was virtually unlikable and I was fascinated by that. He was a repulsive know-it-all loser with delusions of importance. It seems sometimes that the world is filled to bursting with unlikable people.”

“And Grace’s cash-that was yours. Andy didn’t have access to that kind of money.”

“I told you, the fifty thousand could have come from someone else that was in on it.”

“There it is again. I never said it was fifty thousand. Just like I never said I was in Andy’s apartment.”

“Next time I talk about it, I’ll try to remember all these little traps.”

“How did you get Grace to commit suicide?”

“This is growing tedious, Alexa. I never forced Grace Smythe to do anything, ever. You give me far too much credit-or too little. I’m not responsible for anything that woman did. Including her dalliance with Andy.”

“Did Andy tell you Sibby Danielson was your mother?”

“I think it’s more likely that Andy told Grace.”

“Grace was in love with you. She’d have done whatever you wanted. That I had figured out already, from the shrine and how she looked at you. I just didn’t know how you used that longing until tonight. We’ll say, for the sake of argument, that Andy snooped and found the notebook. Maybe he saw Dorothy making entries and found her hiding place. He approached you, thinking…you’d want to know?”

“Imagining I’d help him blackmail my uncle because Unko murdered my parents would be a better theory,” Casey said. “Andy could never have blackmailed me with information that I don’t care to keep secret.”

“Your grandmother had already told you about Sibby. But your uncle figured that out too late.”

“If Andy killed his mother, it was probably because she caught him trying to get his hot little hands on her precious tell-all notebook. He wanted a lot of money-he always believed it could make his insignificant life worth living.”

“We both know that isn’t true,” Alexa said, laughing. “You’ve always had more than enough for a hundred Andy Fugates.”

“Money is a tool. Money is power.”

“Power is a tricky thing, Casey. You have so much of it, and yet you want more. Too much is never enough for you.”

“It’s human nature to want more of a very good thing,” Casey said. “Can we cut to this story’s ending?”

“Your grandmother figured out that Dr. LePointe sicced Sibby on his older brother so he could have control when she died. You simply wanted to pay him back. It’s understandable. And to take away his power-the LePointe billions.”

Laughing melodiously, Casey said, “Can you imagine him being disgraced professionally, with no fat grants to dangle over his contemporaries and with a mere two million or so a year to live on? He won’t go hungry, but he’ll die knowing that his little pecker brought him low. It’s so trailer park. Gary would love it.”

“You shot Andy because you were planning to kill him anyway, and it was a convenient setup for you. But he didn’t die immediately. The briefcase slowed the bullets.”

“A. 357 would have been more appropriate than a. 380. But there’s the size and weight, and my jacket pocket was small.”

“You didn’t even shoot at Leland. I guess you figured Leland was too crazy to be believed even if he knew you were involved.”

“Leland strikes me as being the way people were ten thousand years ago. So, did Andy write out a confession before he died, and do you have it put away someplace?”

Alexa smiled as if to confirm Casey’s question. It was plausible enough. She wished she’d thought to fake one.

“It doesn’t matter. Andy surely must have hated me enough for shooting him to make up something like that. Shooting him in order to save your life, I might add. He probably would have killed you.”

“I know that, Casey.” And I appreciate that saving me was convenient.

“Can’t you forgive me the rest?”

“There’s Grace.”

“I hate to speak ill of a suicide. Grace had a thing for me. She was in love with me. I told her I didn’t love her, and she couldn’t take it. The fifty thousand was a year’s severance. If she killed herself because I rejected her or because of her unfortunate involvement in this scheme, it isn’t my fault.”

Alexa said nothing.

“You were sexually abused in one or more of those Mississippi foster homes, weren’t you, Alexa? I’m not an expert on such things, but I imagine an abused young girl could see a penis as a weapon of control and for inflicting pain and degradation. Do you sleep with men?”

“I mostly sleep alone.”

“Right,” Casey said, picking up the empty martini glass and gazing at it before setting it back down. “Then you must be really frustrated.”

“I don’t feel frustrated.”

“I’ve seen the way you look at me.” She put her hand on Alexa’s shoulder, rested it on a bruise. Alexa winced. “I’m sorry. I wouldn’t hurt you for anything…on purpose.”

Casey held the fingers motionless for a few seconds, then traced her finger in the perspiration on Alexa’s shoulder, down her arm, to her elbow, where there was another bruise. “A mistreated child could have easily grown up to hate men, or at least to distrust them. Such a child might prefer a woman’s touch to a man’s. It’s just-”

“Basic psychology. Touch for touch’s sake isn’t something I seek out. Andy didn’t kill Sibby. Is that so she’d take the blame for Dorothy? Or because you couldn’t bear to kill your own mother?”

“Mother? That sad creature was an incubator at best, a vessel to hold William’s sperm. I feel pity for her-how she was manipulated. I’ve never laid eyes on her, nor do I intend to. But my theory is that she was Andy’s genetic proof to back up the notebook, and he put her away in case it was necessary.” Casey said, “I want us to be able to be open with each other. I want this suspicion behind us.”

“Why did you have them kidnap Gary, knowing they were going to kill him?”

Casey shrugged. “I’m no longer enjoying our talk. Can we change the subject?”

“I kept Gary from dying. That must have disappointed you.”

“Gary would have given the money to some Indian tribe or charity, just to watch Unko’s facial expression. That’s Deana’s future.”

“I understand. You wanted to punish your uncle too. That’s why you sent out photocopies of the diary.”

Casey nodded warily. “My timing didn’t take the hurricane into consideration, or the splash would have been far greater.”

Casey put her hand on Alexa’s chin and moved forward to kiss her. Alexa stopped her by turning her head, and standing.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she said.

“You don’t think I’m attractive? I think you’re very attractive, Alexa. Aren’t you starved for attention from someone who adores you and accepts you as you are?”

“You’re an extremely attractive woman, Casey. I mean that sincerely. But, despite your take on me, I’m not into women that way, and I don’t think you are either.”

“You sure about that?”

“I think you use sex as a tool. And even if I were open to a dalliance, your lovers don’t exactly fare too well.”

“Okay, on your terms.” Casey sighed. “When can you start work? A month to tie up your affairs and submit your walking papers should be adequate. That work for you?”

“I’m not sure I could work for you,” Alexa said.

“But you aren’t refusing me? Will you at least consider my offer seriously?”

“That, I will do.”