"Death Vows" - читать интересную книгу автора (Stevenson Richard)

Chapter Ten

The police found Barry Fields not in Myra Greene’s house – which, being competent, they had had under surveillance since the night before – but in a summer house on nearby Lake Buel that was owned by a friend of Greene’s and for which she had a key. A neighbor had spotted Fields moving his car into the garage just after dawn – as a Triplex employee, he had a familiar face around town – and when word got out that Fields was wanted in a murder investigation, the neighbor did his duty and called the cops. Fields was taken to the Great Barrington police lockup, pending a bail hearing at his arraignment the next morning.

I learned all this from Bill Moore, who called my cell phone just as I was leaving the Triplex and heading for Bud Radziwill’s apartment, where I was to meet the famed Kennedy cousin.

“Barry was right here in town all along,” Moore said.

To which I replied, “How astonishing.”

“What do you mean?”

“You aren’t straight with me about much of anything, Bill. Neither is anybody else I talk to in this town. Is Great Barrington the liars’ capital of the Northeast, or what’s the damn deal, anyway?”

“I’m not sure what you’re referring to, Strachey.”

“Of course you don’t know which lie I’m referring to. There are so many of them. For one, you never worked for the FBI, Bill. I checked.”

I could hear him breathing. Then he said, “You’re good.”

“Uh huh.”

“But why is any of that relevant?”

“I don’t know that it is relevant, Bill. Nor do I know that it isn’t. How am I supposed to know the difference when everybody involved in this miasma is wearing a mask, and it seems as if just about everybody in town knows who is actually behind that mask except me. This leaves me at a distinct disadvantage. And it annoys the crap out of me, too.”

“I hear where you’re coming from, Strachey.”

“Yeah, and…?”

“We’ll have to talk.”

“When?”

“Tomorrow – say, lunch? But meanwhile, Barry’s being arraigned at nine in the morning in Southern Berkshire District Court. Can you be there?”

“I can. But let’s us get together sooner. I need clarity – clarity and honesty and the truth about all of you – if I am to be at all helpful to you and to Barry. Do you get what I’m saying? Can I make it any clearer?”

“I have to work tonight. I’m behind on an installation job I should have finished today, and I’ll be at the Lenox High School until late tonight. But I’ll see you at the arraignment, and then we’ll have lunch, and I’ll fill you in on a few things. These are things that won’t be helpful in clearing Barry. But if telling you these things relieves your mind, then it’ll be worth it. Deal?”

Now what game was he playing? “Sure.”

Moore said, “I just talked to Ramona Furst, Barry’s lawyer on the assault charge, and she’s agreed to represent him on the murder charge too. She’s sure she can get Barry out, though the bail could be high. Ramona’s good. You’ll need to talk to her. She knows about you and is pleased that you’re on the team.”

I said, “Oh, there’s a team? So far, everybody in this town I’ve met seems to be a rugged individualist. It’s hot-dogger heaven here. I’m awfully glad that’s about to change.”

Moore said he had to get to the high school and would see me in the morning, and then he was gone.

I thought about dropping in on Myra Greene again to see what more I could pry out of her, now that she had been revealed as a dissembler and possible felon. But I had appointments with Radziwill and, later, with two of the hot-tub borrowers, so I walked up the hill to Radziwill’s apartment and phoned Timmy as I went.

I told him I would be home late and that I’d be heading back over to Great Barrington first thing in the morning. I gave him a quick rundown on the cunning liars on whose behalf I was working and on how confused and disgusted I was.

Timmy said, “If they’re all so treacherous and underhanded, how come they hired you? They must know that you are reputed to be competent. On that score, word is out.”

“Timothy, may I quote you to the Better Business Bureau the next time anybody complains that I’m a screw-up and a con artist?”

“Yes, you can quote me to the Better Business Bureau, the Vatican, and Ellen DeGeneres, too. That’s how much I think of your abilities.”

“The thing is, these people all seem to want to have it both ways – have somebody on the job who’s competent about clearing Fields but incompetent about knowing them and who they are and what they’re up to. I keep telling them it can’t work that way.”

Timmy said, “Maybe they’re using you for reasons that will remain unclear until it’s too late and you’re up to your neck in something heinous and criminal.”

“That has occurred to me.”

“Be careful.”

“I’m doing my best.”

“Somebody’s already gotten killed in this.”

“And hit with a wheel of cheese first.”

“Try to avoid both, Donald. Though if you have to choose…”

“Are you going to quote St. Augustine to me again, Timothy?”

“No, I was going to quote my Aunt Moira. ‘Keep your priorities as straight as your lipstick.’ I heard her say that to my mother one time when I was a kid. It’s a bit of Callahan-family wisdom that has always stuck with me.”

“But she never said it directly to you?”

“No, but later on she must have been tempted. It’s what they were all thinking.”

“Well, I’ll keep my priorities as straight as Aunt Moira’s lipstick, and I’ll come home to you un-dead but perhaps smelling vaguely of an overripe Camembert.”

“I’ll keep my receptors cleansed.”

“And you might want to open a window.”

Radziwill had just gotten home from work at Barrington Video and was waiting for me. He opened the door as soon as I buzzed. Josh the waiter/boyfriend had left for work at Pearly Gates, so we were alone in the apartment. Lanky and barefooted in jeans and a T-shirt, Radziwill was confusing to look at with the long tattoo on his forearm with the image of a long arm with an open hand at the end of it. I wondered if he had a picture of an erection on his penis, but asking could have been misconstrued.

Radziwill was tenser than he had been two days earlier and asked if I minded if he smoked a joint, and I said fine. He said he rarely smoked anymore, but he was upset that Barry was in custody. Radziwill had called the lockup, and the cops wouldn’t let anyone but his lawyer visit the suspected murderer.

I said, “Were you surprised that Barry was hiding here in Great Barrington?”

He gave me an ironic oh, honey! look and said, “Suhpraaahzed?”

“Yeah, I figured he was here, and you and probably dozens of others knew it – hundreds, maybe – and I was being kept in the dark for no apparent reason. What was that about?”

Radziwill sucked on his weed. “Barry said don’t tell you till you showed you were really on his side. He’s still not entirely convinced you aren’t reporting to his family. It was my idea to hire you, ‘cause you seem okay to me. I’m a more trusting person than Barry is. And Bill checked you out, and you have creds.”

“And who is this family of Barry’s he thinks I might be in cahoots with?”

“They are baaaad.”

“And who and where are these bad people?”

“I’m sorry, Donald, but Barry would have to tell you that. And I don’t think he will. It’s the one thing he is really pathological about. But you don’t need to know; I can promise you that. You can take my word for it, though, that Barry’s family is moooocho trouble.”

I looked at him hard and said, “You know, Bud, you don’t talk like the other Kennedys. Is that because you’re from the Polish branch?”

Now he laughed. “That’s all bullshit.”

“Do tell.”

He was shaking with mirth. “I made up the name and all that Kennedy hooey.”

“It’s my impression hardly anybody believed it.”

“I know that. I’m not stupid. But I come from a family of conservative wing-nuts who all hate the Kennedys. So when I left that life behind, it seemed like it would be fun to stick it to them – especially my grandfather – by seeming to become everything they despised. Of course, they don’t know about it.”

“Why haven’t you told them?”

“Because,” Radziwill said grimly, “I don’t want to have anything to do with any of them ever again. To say they hate gay people is putting it maaaahldly. I have a new, good life now, and the hell with all of those sad, wretched people.”

“Who’s your grandfather, Bud? Anybody I’d know?”

He just laughed and took another toke.

I said, “And is Barry’s story similar?”

Radziwill nodded. “Similar but not the same. His story is a whole lot more complicated. Maybe he’ll tell you about it when this is all over. Or maybe he won’t. It’s a real horror, and Barry just wants to forget it if he can. Ya know, you and Ramona Furst really have to get Barry out of this totally dumb murder charge thing. It’s just so… so stupid.”

“I’m trying,” I said. “I’d work faster and better if everybody was honest with me, the way you’ve started to be. What about Bill Moore? Is his story like yours and Barry’s – fleeing an impossible family situation?”

Radziwill looked puzzled. “No, why? I mean, I don’t think so.”

“I’m told that Bill is a depressive man with a problematical past.”

“Yeah, Bill gets depressed,” Radziwill said. “But I’m not sure why. It might be something to do with when he worked for the government. I think maybe he was doing some kind of secret government work, and maybe he had to do some stuff he’s ashamed of. Barry never told me about it. He just said don’t ask. But I don’t think it was family stuff like me and Barry. Bill’s a good guy, though, and he and Barry are a good pair. It’s great that they’re getting married. Where I come from, I never thought I’d see the day.”

“Where did you come from, Bud?”

“Out west. I guess you can tell.”

“ Texas?”

He laughed and shrugged off the question.

“And where did you get the fake IDs? You and Barry?”

He chortled again. “Ain’t sayin’.”

“Okay then, Bud. Or whatever your name is.”

“It actually is Bud. Anyways, that’s what I’ve always been called. I have a real first name, too.”

“And is Barry’s name really Barry?”

“Noop.”

“What is it?”

“Ask him. But don’t hold your breath waiting for a straight answer.”

“Okay, Bud’s-your-real-name. How about this? If Barry didn’t kill Jim Sturdivant, who might have? Any ideas?”

Another toke. Radziwill was relaxing now, and I was afraid he would unhelpfully drift away. He said, “Tons of people couldn’t stand Jim. But actually kill the guy? Jeezum!”

“Sturdivant traded favorable loan terms for sex. Did he work any other scams you’re aware of?”

“Not that I know of. I wouldn’t know. I never liked the toads, and they never liked me. They’re both a couple of phonies. Were, in Jim’s case.”

“What was phony about them that put you off?”

I though Radziwill would talk about the way the toads put on airs and patronized people, but that wasn’t it. “Being an imposter myself, I know one when I see one. Those two are fakes from the word go. Especially Jim. He wasn’t who he started out to be, I don’t think.”

“How could you tell?”

“They tried too hard. They were both always playing a part. And I heard once that Sturdivant isn’t Jim’s real name. Or he had it legally changed.”

“From what?”

“Dunno. Older people from Pittsfield might know. That’s where Jim was from.”

I said, “His obituary will be in tomorrow’s paper. That’ll have the accurate basic details of his life, we can safely assume.”

Radziwill said, “I wouldn’t bet on it.”