Divine Vices (22 page)

“This
is your gig. Lead the way,” I said, bringing her back to the left corridor.

“You
saw the look on her face back there, right?” asked Gwen once we were far enough
down the hall.

I
nodded. “As much as it pains me to say, you just might be onto something.”

We
passed by the gymnasium and Gwen immediately expressed interest once she saw
the cheerleading squad practicing in the middle of the court as others ran laps
around the perimeter.

“Rachel
Haggerty?” she called out as we entered.

The
blonde who seemed to be conducting the rest of the girls in a cheer turned,
giving us her best practiced smile. “What can I do for you?”

“We’re
with
New Haven’s Gossip Hour
, and we were just hoping that you could
help us out with a story.”

“New
Haven? Far from your neck of the woods here, aren’t you?”

“Yes,
well, this in part has to do with a former classmate of yours, Jackson
Matthews.”

She
seemed surprised, but the name left more of a look of disappointment than
anything. Turning to her squad, she called out, “Take five!”

Her
demeanor didn’t read uncooperative, but the subject matter didn’t seem to leave
her too happy either. “What’d you want to know?”

“How
would you describe his presence here? Was he sociable? Or was he a bit more of
a loner, perhaps?” questioned Gwen.

“Depends
on when,” replied Rachel, rather coolly.

“What
about football?” I said, trying to avoid her thinking the conversation was too
interrogational.

Rachel
finally smiled. “For the record, he was the quintessential, all-American team
leader. He was driven and committed to the game. Football was his life.
Excellent captain.”

“And
off the record?” asked Gwen.

“In
all honesty? He didn’t really care about anything in particular as long as it
was off the field. Schoolwork, holding down a job, properly dating. None of it
mattered to him.”

“Care
to elaborate?”

“As
nicely as possible, he couldn’t take a thing seriously. Constantly skipped
class, until Coach threatened to bench him if he pulled it again. Made most of
his money gambling. And I can’t think of a time that he’d have a girl on his
arm more than once.”

I
could just feel Gwen’s stare burning through me, but I refused to give her the
satisfaction of returning her look. “How did he handle what happened last
fall?”

“Hell,
what part of it? The police, or everything that happened with him and his dad?
To say that he distanced himself from the world would be an understatement. Didn’t
come as much of a surprise when I heard he was planning on moving. With the
rumors, then the accident, then being dethroned from the team? Nobody could
manage to treat him normal again.”

“Did
you ever think he was capable of what the police questioned him about?” asked
Gwen.

“Admittedly,
Jack and I had our thing,” said Rachel wincingly. “Lasted for about a minute,
but even in that time it was obvious that he was a real hothead. Constantly
stirring up other guys, saying things to piss people off. Didn’t really think
before speaking.”

“You
ever know him to be analytical?” I asked.

Rachel
snickered. “Jack? Yeah right. Praise the Lord for blessing him with that face,
’cause I think He went a little light on the brains.”

Gwen
snorted as she tried to refrain from laughing.

“But
you didn’t think he was guilty, did you?” I asked, already knowing Gwen
wouldn’t approve of my wordplay implying his innocence.

“That
case left all of us here a bit dumbfounded, not to mention suspicious. I didn’t
put anything past anyone. No one thought Brian Hanover or Justin Tither were
capable of it, but after they were brought in, nobody else went missing.”

We
conducted a few more interviews around the school, and the consensus was out.
Nothing concrete, or even remotely suggestive hinting towards his guiltiness,
had been uncovered.

“Happy?”
I said, strolling out into the parking lot.

“I’d
hardly put it that way, but I’ll admit that we’ve reached an impasse. For now.”

“What
else do you have up your sleeves?”

“I’m
still awaiting the arrival of some evidence from the cases.”

“And
what laws did you break to get access to this information?”

“None.”

“I
have more than a hard time believing that.”

“It
was wholly legitimate. I properly requested it.”

“You
what?”

“Maine’s
Freedom of Access Act states that so long as the court’s records haven’t been
sealed for reasons of confidentiality, those records are presumed to be opened
to the public. I already requested the information so I could comb through the
evidence on the cases with my own eyes.”

I
managed to keep my jaw from dropping into my lap, but I still couldn’t wipe the
deer-caught-in-headlights look from my face as I gawked at Gwen.

“What’s
with you?” she said, hopping in the car.

“I
wasn’t aware you were this well-versed in matters pertaining to the law,” I
replied. “That’s all.”

“Cass,
I want to be a professional reporter. And the first thing any good reporter
needs to know is where the boundaries of the law are.”

“So
people like you can hop over them willingly if those said ‘boundaries’ don’t
grant you what you want?” I cracked.

She
smiled mischievously as I parked a seat behind the wheel. “Well, if I’m gonna
break the law, I should at least know my way around the system. Now, as far as
everything with regard to Jack is concerned, you’re gonna have to stay away
from him, at least until I have a chance to look everything over.”

“And
how long will that take?”

“Why?
Are you in a hurry to start swooning over your murderous womanizer again?”

“No,
but if you’ve been paying any bit of attention lately, you’d know that staying
clear of him is virtually impossible.”

“Relax,
I should be getting the records soon.”

By
the time we made our way back down towards New Haven, the sun was already
setting. Even the thick evergreens could not hide the flashing beam of the
local lighthouse from off the coastline. That’s when I realized just where we
were. Gwen had nodded off in the passenger seat, so I figured she wouldn’t have
minded a slight detour. Heading down by the docks, I drove through the less
reputable part of town by Capone’s just off Highway 1 and found my way to an
all-night dive bar called Fritz’s.

I
rolled up all the windows and locked the doors before I left Gwen, hoping that
my leather gear was enough to barter me passage with the crew inside. Graffiti
decorated the entire front entrance and a large bouncer stamped my hand to
identify me as a minor as I entered the bar.

After
last night’s unconscious misadventure, I figured it would be best to cover all
bases, and it was already a positive start. The stamp on the outside of my hand
was identical to the one Jack was sporting when I saw him this morning.
Granted, the ink used on these didn’t wash off easy, so it didn’t secure a
definite timeline, but it still gave me a sense of relief. And I needed it,
because everything else about this place pushed my nerves to the brink of
running back out the door for dear life.

The
whole joint was engulfed with a thick fog of cigar and cigarette smoke, and
probably every unsavory roughneck in the area was at the bar. Some younger guys
were at the pool and foosball tables, but they seemed to be bread from the same
ruffianly blood as Cal. A few of them were tussling about in the corner, and I
knew that if I had a lick of sense in my brain, I’d make sure that this visit
went as quickly as possible before a full out brawl occurred.

“What
can I get you?” said the bartender as I leaned against the counter. His entire
left arm was a sleeve of tattoos that included skulls, blood, reapers, and all
the other things saved for demented bedtime stories.

“Actually,
I was curious if you could help me out,” I replied, trying to talk over the
clamor and music. “You weren’t working last night by any chance, were you?”

He
furrowed his brows. “What’s it to you?”

“I’m
looking for someone, and I heard he may have been in here.”

“What’s
he look like?”

“Young.
About six foot. Black hair. Blue eyes. Attractive.”

“Real
smartass?”

“Sounds
about right.”

“Yeah,
he came in with a group at around ten. Rented out one of our private rooms for
the night.”

“He
ever leave and come back?”

“Not
that I noticed.”

“You
remember when he left for good?”

“Around
dawn.”

“He
ever come in here before?”

“Once
that I know of,” he said, eyeballing me. “So, what, are you like his girlfriend
or something?”

I
laughed. “Hardly. Just someone trying to collect a debt.”

He
cracked a smile. “Ah, a very common tale around these parts. You want to leave
your number? I can give you a ring next time he comes in.”

Having
already dug myself the hole, I figured I had to take it to the end zone.
“Appreciated.” I scribbled my cell down onto a bar napkin and slid it his way.
“Thank you for your time.”

“No
problem.”

I
exited Fritz’s and found Gwen sitting in the passenger seat just where I had
left her. She awoke when I closed the car door behind me after I climbed back
in.

“Ugh,
how long have I been out?” she mumbled, peeling her eyes wide open as she
gawked at the neon sign of the bar. “Where in Kansas are we?!”

“Just
wrapping up some business,” I said, turning over the engine.

Gwen
propped herself up. “You visit seedy bars now? Okay, who are you, and what did
you do to my friend?”

I
only smiled, but I would have broken out into a victory dance if it wasn’t for
the fact that I didn’t want to explain the purpose behind my pit stop.

“Hold
on, I know him,” I said, catching a familiar figure in my sights from across
the street as I pulled up to an intersection not five minutes later.

“Who?”

“Him,”
I said, pointing to the scruff in the racing jacket.

“Oww,”
gawked Gwen. “You stumble upon a treasure-trove of sexy ruffians, or something?
He’s hot!”

“Yeah,
well, he happens to be a friend of Jack’s. I met him while we were at dinner.”

“You
were on a date with Jack?”

“No,
it wasn’t like that,” I said, pulling alongside the curb of an adjoining street
from the building Cal headed into.

“What
are you doing?”

“What
does it look like? I’m tailing him,” I said, popping the driver’s door open.

“Hold
up there, Sherlock,” called out Gwen, climbing out as well. “You’re not going
into some unsavory joint alone.”

We
locked the car and skulked our way toward the building.

“Shut
the front door!” barked Gwen. She gripped my arm and tossed me against the
brick sidings behind a newsstand. “Isn’t that Jack’s car?”

I
poked my head around the booth, and sure enough, the Impala came rumbling up
from down the way. “His friend had mentioned something about how they had
gotten ‘new troops’ for their little get-together when he ran into Jack at the
restaurant.”

“Troops?
Like muscle?”

“Maybe.”

“You
think they’re dealing something? Drugs? Guns?!”

“Only
one way to find out,” I said, pulling her back down the way we came after we
watched Jack head inside the same building.

Despite
my obvious aversion for dark alleyways, I decided this time around I’d take the
risk and I led Gwen to a back entrance. We crept along the ramshackle
building’s broken tiled floors of the ammonia polluted hallways, slinking
closer and closer to the growing sounds of chatter.

“Okay,
who would like to start us off today?” spoke a familiar voice. It was Cal.

I
motioned her toward a set of duel doors near the front of the building which
had yet to be closed.

“Hi.
I’ve been an alcoholic for... as long as I can remember. I’ve tried to quit on
my own, but it’s never worked. My wife says that if I don’t clean up my act
soon, then she’s gonna be heading out the door. She’s made these threats
before, but... I think this time she’s serious. I’ve already lost my two oldest
children ’cause of this. I’m at the end of my rope here...”

“What
the hell?” mouthed Gwen.

I
shrugged, just as baffled by the statement. Quickly stealing a look inside the
room, I caught a glimpse inside a neglected gymnasium. The floorboards across
the court were severely warped and the rims on the baskets overhead looked
about one shot away from falling clear off the backboards. There was a large
group of folding chairs set around the middle of the gym in a massive circle,
and there was a table full of coffee, Styrofoam cups, and plates of donuts by
the side of the half court mark. Taped across the front of the table was a big
sign that read “Alcoholics Anonymous.”

What
the hell
was right.

“What
is it?” whispered Gwen.

I
poked my eyes around the bend again, and I spotted Jack standing outside of the
group handing out some refreshments. Another one of the people in the circle
raised her hand, and Jack called on her.

“It’s
an A.A. meeting,” I said, pulling my head back into the hallway.

“...
I’d been struggling with my sobriety for years, but then that young man came to
me and told me he could help. And he brought me here, and I found the support I
needed,” said a middle-aged woman. “He’s a godsend.”

I
looked again, and I saw Jack come over to her and give her a hug.