Johnny Gruesome (25 page)

“I know what you mean.” Eric wanted Darryl to be guilty. He just couldn’t figure out what motive the janitor had to kill Todd, or why he would have hid Todd’s head in Gary’s locker.

“The biggest story to ever hit this town, and I’m stuck working a beat for a monthly high school newspaper.” Rhonda wrote half of every issue of the
Red Hill High Observer,
known with affection among students as
“The Disturber.”

“Maybe you can write a book,” Eric said. “You know, one of those true-crime books.”

“We’d all better hope there isn’t enough material for a book. So, your big wrestling match was canceled.”

“Yeah. I hope they cancel the rest of the season, too.”

“How come?”

“I never wanted to join the team in the first place. Johnny pushed me to sign up with him when we were freshmen, and he ended up quitting last year when Coach Wrangler told him to cut his hair.”

Rhonda laughed. “That sounds like Johnny.”

“I wanted to quit, too, but my folks made me stick it out. They think it looks better on my transcript if I’m on one team all four years.”

“They’re probably right.”

“Hardly anyone comes to our matches, though. Just a few hard-core parents and ex-wrestlers. We usually have more spectators for the visiting team than for ours.”

“That’s awful!”

“Tell me about it.”

“Well, I was planning to attend this one.”

“Really?”

“Uh-huh. I decided it was time the
Observer
did an article on you guys.”

“The guys would have loved that. Talk about bad timing. It’s this house up ahead.”

Slowing down, Rhonda turned into the driveway, parking behind Charlie’s truck.

Eric noticed the FOR SALE sign on the lawn. “Thanks for the lift.”

“Do you mind if I tag along?”

He raised his eyebrows. “No, not at all.”

Rhonda switched off the ignition. “Will Mr. Grissom mind?”

“No, I’m sure he’ll appreciate the company.” He almost added,
As much as I do.

They got out of the car, Rhonda following Eric to the front porch. Glassy ice covered the steps.

“Careful.” He grabbed the pipe railing, scaled the steps, and extended one hand. Rhonda allowed him to help her up. He knocked on the door, and when Charlie didn’t answer, knocked again.

“Maybe he isn’t home,” Rhonda said.

“Charlie’s always home when the sun’s up.” He leaned close to the window on the door’s left-hand side. Seeing nothing through the layers of grime, he wiped the glass with one glove, then cupped both hands around his eyes and peered inside. Light from the television rimmed the living room furniture and a still figure on the floor. “Oh, no.”

“What is it?” Rhonda said as he threw open the storm door.

Eric tried the doorknob on the inside door. When it failed to turn, he drove his right elbow into a narrow pane in the middle of the door, shattering the glass. Rhonda uttered a startled cry and stepped back. Eric pulled off his hat, wrapped it around his right hand, and punched the remaining glass out of the door space. He reached through it, disturbing a gauzy curtain, and felt for the bolt lock, which he twisted. Pushing the door open, he charged into the dark house and ran over to the lumpy shape he had seen on the living room floor. Drool had pooled on the floor beneath Charlie’s open mouth, and Eric checked a flabby wrist for a pulse.

Rhonda entered behind him and gasped. “Oh, my God …”

Biting his lower lip, Eric focused on the empty vodka bottles on the floor. “There’s a phone in the kitchen. Will you call 911?”

“Sure.” Rhonda found her way to the kitchen while Eric scanned the living room. Next to the empty bottles lay the Grissom family portrait, taken after Johnny’s tenth birthday. Its glass pane had cracked.

Matt led Eric and Rhonda alongside the ambulance now parked in the driveway. He had instructed Rhonda to move her car to the curb upon his arrival.

“And that’s exactly how you found him?”

Eric nodded. “Yeah, surrounded by those empty bottles.”

Matt squinted at the cars passing them, curious eyes peering out at him. “Well, I guess that isn’t much of surprise, is it?”

“No, sir.”

Matt offered them a mild smile. “You two had best be getting home. Your folks will be worried after what happened today. Thanks for your help.” He turned toward the house, then stopped and turned back. “Oh, Eric, I’ve been meaning to ask you something.”

Eric tried to hide his surprise. “What’s that?”

“Last week, when I pulled you and Johnny over?”

“Yeah?”

“Johnny wasn’t wearing his seat belt.”

Eric stiffened. “So?”

“When we found his body the other night, he had it on.”

Eric’s mind raced. Gary had strapped the seat belt on Johnny to keep his corpse upright behind the Death Mobile’s steering wheel.
Stall, stall, stall.
“I don’t understand.”

“It just strikes me as strange, is all. Johnny was reckless. I don’t believe he’d voluntarily wear that seat belt, especially if he’d been drinking and acting as crazy as you kids say he was. Did he have it on when you saw him?”

Is he trying to trick me? “I don’t remember.”

“Well, if you do, give me a shout, okay?”

“Sure.”

As Matt headed toward the house, a van with a giant number seven stenciled on its side pulled over to the curb. The van’s side door slid open and a female newscaster hopped out. Holding a microphone in one hand, she waved with the other.

“Chief Crane!”

“Let’s get out of here,” Eric said to Rhonda.

E
ric hung his coat in the foyer closet and stepped out of his shoes. Entering the living room, he saw Karen alone on the sofa, the crackling flames in the fireplace highlighting her features.

“Hi,” she said in an almost inaudible voice.

Before he could answer, his mother entered through the dining room. “Who was that who drove you home?”

“Rhonda.”

Pat raised her eyebrows.

“Charlie’s dead,” he told both of them. The words sounded harsher than he’d intended, and Karen sat up, turning rigid.

“What?” Pat said with genuine alarm.

“I found him in his living room. Chief Crane thinks he drank himself to death.”

Karen looked stunned.

Pat moved closer to Eric and touched his arm. “Honey, I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he said, locking his eyes on Karen.

Pat followed his sight line. “Well, I guess I’ll leave you two alone.” With a puzzled expression, she returned to her domain.

Eric sat in the chair opposite the sofa, on the other side of the fireplace.

“Poor Charlie,” Karen said, sounding congested. She looked around the room, her red eyes avoiding his gaze. “You have a lovely home.”

“What are you doing here?”

Her jittery eyes settled on him.

She’s on something.

“I’ve been getting phone calls.”

He stared at her. Congratulations.

“Whoever it is doesn’t say anything and he won’t stop.”

“Don’t you have caller ID?”

“The display just says ‘wireless caller.’”

“You’re not the first person to get prank phone calls. Call the cops if you’re worried.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

She drew in a deep breath and exhaled. “The calls started right after the funeral.” She lowered her voice. “What if someone knows what we did?”

Eric matched her tone. “That’s impossible. You’re just being paranoid.”

“The calls only come when I’m alone. Whoever it is knows my mother’s work schedule.”

“Maybe it’s Gary.”

“He wouldn’t do that.”

Eric felt his jaw tighten. “We’ve both seen what he’s capable of doing.”

“I know that you guys have never gotten along, but I always thought you were just jealous of each other’s friendship with Johnny.”

“Some friend he turned out to be.”

She rubbed her arms. “I’m scared.”

“Then talk to Gary.”

“I’m here to see you.”

Turning his head, he gazed at the fireplace. “Eric—?”

The flames crackled and popped as Pat returned. “Karen, you’re welcome to stay for dinner if you’d like.”

Standing, Karen pulled on her coat. “No, thank you, Mrs. Carter. I have to get home.”

Without looking at them, Eric said, “She’s expecting a phone call.”

Matt steered his cruiser along Van Buren Drive. As he passed the expensive homes, he noted the private snowplows did a much better job here than Greg Haines did with the village plow in his neighborhood. But then, everything was at least one level better here in the Heights. He turned into a cul de sac and the Kumler home came into view. Roger Kumler owned one of the most successful contracting firms in the county, so it came as no surprise to Matt his home dominated the neighborhood. Two and a half stories high, with cathedral ceilings, balconies, and wide, curved windows. A stone fence outlined the landscaped property. As Matt turned into the circular driveway, he saw a two-story, three-car garage.

That’s bigger than my whole house.
He felt neither envy nor bitterness. At that moment, the last person in the world he envied was Roger Kumler. Switching off the engine, he climbed out of the Pathfinder and crossed the shoveled walkway to the two-door entrance. He rang the bell and waited, surveying the other homes in the cul de sac. No teachers or cops lived here.

The door opened and Roger stood in the doorway, dressed in a suit with no tie, the top button of his shirt unbuttoned. His wavy salt-and-pepper hair needed combing and his eyelids looked heavy. Without saying anything, he stepped back from the door, admitting Matt.

“Thank you, Roger. I’m sorry about Todd. How’s Doreen?”

“She’s upstairs, sedated.” Roger closed the door but hovered near it.

I guess this is as far as I go, Matt thought.

“It’s nice of you to finally come in person,
Acting Chief.
I thought you were only going to send your subordinates to see me.”

Matt had dealt with demanding citizens before. “Roger, I apologize. I sent Ben to give you the news earlier because I had to take Darryl Bower into custody. I didn’t want to risk any screwups if it turned out he killed Todd. Unfortunately, he passed his polygraph test with flying colors.”

The corners of Roger’s mouth turned down. “Polygraphs aren’t reliable.”

“No, they’re not. But Walter Kaplan, who administered the test, believes Darryl.”

“Do you?”

Matt sighed. “Yes, I do. But we found a decent amount of marijuana in his basement locker at the school, so we have cause to hold him in custody overnight. He’ll probably make bail tomorrow, depending on how high the judge sets it.”

“Judge Bannis is a friend of mine. I assure you he’ll set maximum bail.”

I’m sure he will.
“Darryl may be innocent.”

“Just for the moment, let’s say he is. If that’s the case, who murdered my son? My only son. I need to know the answer to that question. I need to be able to look my wife in the eyes and tell her that our son’s killer has been brought to justice.”

“I understand that.”

“If this Bower cretin is innocent, what are you doing to find the animal who butchered my boy?”