The Alligator Man (7 page)

W
hen Tom Wylie regained consciousness, at first he didn’t know where he was. He could hear voices but he couldn’t move, not even to open his eyes. He recognized the voices as those of Kate, his love, and Alex, his longtime friend and doctor. Alex’s was the first voice he heard.

“I know scrapping the surgery was a monumental screwup but it happens that X-rays sometimes get mixed up. It doesn’t happen often.”

Kate wasn’t buying it. “That’s crap, Alex, and you know it. What if you cut off the wrong person’s leg instead of just reading the wrong X-rays? You have to have procedures in place to make sure that never happens again. But my immediate concern right now is Tom.”

“We have to do this again tomorrow, Kate. It can’t wait.”

“I know, I know, I’m just worried. He’d never let on about it, but getting ready for this surgery was a huge emotional ordeal for Tom. Now he’s going to wake up and have to do it all over again.”

“Listen, Kate, I’ve known Tom for over forty years. He’ll handle it fine.”

Lying there, his brain still foggy from the anesthesia, Tom struggled to take in all that had been said. The surgery was canceled and he would have to do it tomorrow—that was clear. And Kate was worried.

A few minutes later, two other people entered the room and joined the conversation. Tom recognized one of the voices as that of Ray Blackwell. The other one was a mystery.

Everyone simultaneously realized that Tom had regained consciousness when, without thinking, he raised his arm to scratch his head. Tom could tell they’d noticed, even though his eyes were still closed, because all conversation abruptly ceased. They were waiting for his next move.

Even under the circumstances, Tom was coherent enough to work out a little skit to deal with all of their anxiety, especially Kate’s. He opened his eyes, calmly looked at them, and smiled. Then he picked up the cover that was resting at chest level and peeked under it at his stomach where the bandages should have been.

“My, they did a lovely job,” he said. “I can’t even see a scar.” He then looked back up at them with a sheepish grin on his face.

It took a moment, but his old friend Ray caught on first and started laughing, followed by Alex, and finally Kate. Kevin never did catch on because he did not know Tom Wylie and his sardonic humor. He stood there feeling awkward and unrelated.

“Alex, you shouldn’t be laughing,” Tom said. “You violated the cardinal rule: Never make a mistake with a lawyer as a patient.”

There was more anxious, nervous laughter.

“How did you know?” Alex asked.

Tom looked at Ray Blackwell and winked. “And these guys think they are the gods.”

The judge roared at the remark. So did Alex and Kate. Kevin was still the odd man out.

“And who is this young man?” Tom finally asked, looking at Kevin.

Kate brought Kevin around to the side of his father’s bed. She knew what was coming.

“Tom,” she said, “this is your son, Kevin.”

It was Tom’s turn to be surprised. The older man’s eyes welled up and he began to shake slightly. His voice left him. He took Kevin’s right hand in his and held it. His hands were huge, just as Kevin remembered, and they were gentle, and he suddenly remembered that too. The tears began to fall from Tom’s eyes now as he continued to just look at his son, a smile on his face, unable to do or say anything else.

Once again, Kevin didn’t know how to react. Part of him wanted to hug his father; part of him wanted to strangle him. He decided to simply return the smile.

Seeing Tom’s emotions start to strain, Alex gave the two men a moment and then ushered everybody out of the room. In the hallway, he pulled Kate aside.

“Go in and say good-bye to him now because I want him to sleep for the rest of the day. He needs to be strong for tomorrow.”

Kate gave him a worried look.

“Don’t worry, Kate. I’ll look in on him all day.”

In the elevator, Kate invited the judge to spend the night out at the ranch.

“I’d love to, Kate,” he replied. “But my Aunt Birdie already has my promise to spend the night.”

She turned to Kevin next. “How about you, Kevin? The ranch is very relaxing and you’ve had a long day.”

Kevin knew it had to take a lot to make the offer after the way he had treated her. Still, he was emotionally in knots. Things were happening way too fast.

“Thanks, but I’ve already got a room for the night. Maybe tomorrow.”

O
nly about five square miles in area, St. Albans’s Old City was more like a small town. Because its origins extended all the way back to the early eighteenth century when the Spanish ruled Florida, it was a modern-day tourist attraction. All of the buildings were Spanish Colonial in style. The original structures—and there were still quite a few—were made of shale, a combination of shell and sand. The more modern ones were composed of concrete and stucco, and since they had to conform in every way to the original architecture, no building in town exceeded two stories.

Kevin chose to stay in the Old City because it had been his home as a young boy. He found a bed-and-breakfast close to the parking garage, checked in, deposited his bags in the room, splashed a little water on his face, and went out for a walk—stopping at the front desk to ask the charming woman who had signed him in if there was a locals’ bar close by.

“Chico’s on La Plaza, two blocks down on the right. Everybody goes there,” she told him.

There was a cool wind blowing as Kevin walked the narrow, winding streets. It was dusk and he saw several couples snuggling close to each other as they walked. He wished that Susan was with him at that moment and that for once they could simply enjoy the romantic setting and forget about their troubles.

Although he looked for the better part of an hour, he couldn’t find his father’s house, the house where he had grown up. Nor could he retrieve that sense of belonging. It was a beautiful place, but it didn’t feel like home. He was tired and ready for a drink when he finally arrived at Chico’s.

Chico’s was a dark, comfortable little joint and it was fairly busy although not full. Music was playing in the background at a level that allowed the customers to have a conversation with one another. Kevin found a spot at the bar and sat and ordered a bourbon and soda. It had been a tough day emotionally and he needed a good stiff drink. As he took his first sip, his eyes scanned the bar. That’s when he noticed Billy sitting three seats down. At least he thought it was Billy. He couldn’t tell for sure until Billy got up from his barstool and ambled over.

“So you found the neighborhood bar?”

“Yeah, I didn’t want to drink with the tourists.”

“I don’t blame you. Hey, it’s really good to see you after all these years. And I know your dad will be excited to know that you’re here. I was just on my way back over there.”

“I’ll save you the trip. My father woke up this afternoon and Alex ushered us all out after that. He said he wanted Tom to sleep until tomorrow’s surgery.”

“Oh, so you got to see each other?”

“Yeah.”

“How did that go?”

“It went.”

“That good, huh? I’m sorry to hear that.”

“It wasn’t bad. It’s just—what do you say after twenty-eight years? How are you supposed to feel?”

“I don’t know.”

“Neither do I, Billy.”

“At least you’re both still alive and maybe you can sort things out.”

Kevin finished his drink and ordered another. “Billy, what are you drinking? Let me get you one?”

“Jack on the rocks. Thanks.”

“No problem. So tell me what you do up here in St. Albans.”

“Not a whole lot of anything. I work part-time at the supermarket. I help Kate out at the ranch some. There’s not too much work around here since Dynatron went under two years ago.”

“I read about that. That company screwed all its employees.”

“Not that company—Roy Johnson. And Roy Johnson didn’t just screw his employees, he killed some of them. My wife, Laurie, died of leukemia when our insurance was canceled and she lost her doctors. My best friend, Jimmy Lennox, committed suicide because he was in debt up to his fuckin’ ears. And that’s just my people.”

Kevin realized that his problems with his father paled in comparison to what happened to Billy. The man had a gaping hole in his heart. He tried to say something upbeat.

“Well, Roy Johnson got his.”

“Yeah. It’s a small piece of justice. It doesn’t bring people back. It doesn’t put money in ordinary people’s pockets. But it’s something. They should line every one of those guys up and shoot ’em.”

“Who?”

“You know. The CEOs who bilk their employees and shareholders out of everything and walk away with millions. They oughta be shot.”

Kevin didn’t disagree with the assessment but he knew it was time to change the subject. “Did you and Laurie have any kids?”

“Yeah, two. Thomas and Heather. Thomas just started high school this year. Heather is in sixth grade. They’re great kids. They just lost their mother when they needed her most.”

Kevin thought Billy was going to cry but he didn’t.

“They’re with my sister tonight.”

They drank in silence for a few minutes after that. Kevin was about to finish his drink and leave.

“Don’t leave yet,” Billy said. “Let me buy you a drink. And I’m sorry for being so morose. It’s just a place I can’t visit without getting upset.”

“I understand. I’d feel the same way. Sure, I’ll have another. I’ve only got to walk two blocks.”

They kept it light after that, talking about sports. Billy was an avid sports fan, especially basketball. He had played in high school. Kevin started to relax and enjoy himself. Billy had an easygoing way about him when he was off the subject of Roy Johnson and the devastation that he had wreaked on his family and others. He was funny and he made Kevin laugh. They had a couple more drinks and left together walking down the street side by side.

S
heriff Frank Cousins initially wanted to shoot somebody when he read Carlisle’s report about his interview with Freddie Jenkins. That somebody was Vern Fleming, whom he had stationed in Gladestown to oversee the investigation.
Why the hell was he letting Carlisle do such an important interview?
But he read the report again and he realized that Carlisle had covered all the bases and then some.
Vern probably doesn’t even know about Freddie Jenkins,
he mused.
Maybe this kid can be a deputy some day.
Then he called Vern anyway.

“While you’re picking daisies over there or whatever the hell you’re doing, Carlisle Buchanan has been investigating.” Sheriff Cousins then filled Vern in on Freddie Jenkins and his eyewitness account of a murder. His hunch was right.

“Hell, I didn’t even know about this kid,” Vern blurted out without realizing the consequences of such an admission.

“I didn’t think so,” Frank Cousins replied. “Now I want you to go over to that school and pick this kid up and bring him over here. We’ll put him under oath and do a video interview following Carlisle’s script. He did a good job on this, but I want you on top of things over there from here on in. This isn’t a missing persons case anymore. It’s a murder investigation.”

“Sure thing, Frank. I’m on it.”

“I want you to talk to Carlisle about coordination and working as a team and all that stuff, but I don’t want you to come down hard on him. He used initiative and he did a good job.”

Yeah, and made me look like a fool!
Vern thought. “Gotcha,” he said to the sheriff.

Carlisle walked into the office fifteen minutes after Vern’s conversation with Frank Cousins.

“What’s new?” he asked.

Vern wanted to pile-drive him into the wall but he knew that wasn’t an option, considering Carlisle’s size and strength. Carlisle couldn’t see the fire in his eyes underneath the flyboy shades.

“Nothing much. I just talked to the sheriff. He said you did a real good job with your interview of this Freddie kid. He was just a little concerned.”

“About what?” Carlisle asked.

“About an auxiliary police officer investigating a possible murder without telling the homicide detective in charge.” Vern said it as politely as he could, but Carlisle could see his clenched teeth.

“Oh, that. Yeah, I should have told you, but I thought getting Freddie’s story right away was the most important thing. I knew Freddie would talk to me since I’m a local and all.”

“Well, make sure it doesn’t happen again or you might be looking for work. You got it?”

Carlisle didn’t answer. He simply looked at Vern and smiled.

“You got it?” Vern asked again, this time in a little harsher tone.

“Let me tell you something, Vern. I’m not used to taking orders. My father raised me that way. That’s kinda the way it is around here. Now I will listen to you because you know what you’re doing. And I will follow your suggestions. But if you keep giving me orders, we’re gonna have some problems.”

Vern had no idea how to respond. Back in Chicago people just did what they were told no matter how big they were. There was a hierarchy. Rank meant something. Here he was out in the middle of nowhere with some redneck who could probably rip him in half and who had no respect. What the hell could he do?

“All right. I’ll try not to tell you what to do. I’ll try to make suggestions but I want you to listen to me. Now where the hell is this high school? I’ve gotta pick this kid up and take him to headquarters.”

“I’ll go with you.”

“No. You stay here and hold down the fort. I mean, why don’t you just stay here and hold down the fort? I’ll handle this one by myself. Just give me the directions.”

“Suit yourself.”

T
he next day at the hospital was long and grueling. The day before, everyone knew Tom Wylie would be okay. They were simply concerned about his emotional stability when he woke up. Today, they were waiting to find out if he would ever wake up again.

Kevin was part of the group now, although he was the most ambivalent and confused member. He was still very angry and bitter toward his father but he didn’t want him to die. He sat in the surgery waiting room between Billy and Ray Blackwell. Kate sat across from the men.

Alex Rivard broke the suspense when he walked into the room at a little after two o’clock in the afternoon. They all looked at him as if they were defendants in a murder trial and he was about to deliver the verdict.

“He’s okay. He’s resting comfortably,” Alex began. Kevin saw Kate put her hands to her chest and let out a big sigh of relief, as did the others.

“We didn’t get all the tumors,” Alex continued. “Some were just too close to the main artery.” Kevin noticed Alex’s shoulders visibly slumping as he delivered the bad news. The man looked worn-out.

Kate hugged Alex for a long time. Kevin just stood there with the judge and Billy. Nobody asked any questions, which surprised him. He had a million of his own but he didn’t want anybody to think he cared enough to ask.

“He won’t be awake for at least another hour so you all ought to go get something to eat. Kevin, I’d like to see you in my office if I could.”

“Sure,” Kevin said and proceeded to follow the doctor out of the room.

“Why was everybody so silent in there?” he asked Alex when they were seated in his office.

“They’ve been through this before. They know the consequences of what I told them. You’re the one who doesn’t.”

“I hope you’re not treating me like the long-lost son who is so concerned about his dad.”

“You are, aren’t you?”

“I’m what?”

“Concerned.”

“Look, I don’t even know the man. He’s my father and all, but we don’t have a relationship. I’m just here to get some answers.”

“Well then, here are the answers about your father’s physical well-being. He originally had colon cancer that metastasized into his bloodstream and eventually showed up in his liver. There were a number of tumors in his liver and we tried to shrink them with chemotherapy but we were unsuccessful. The only other option was surgery. We were going to try and cut the tumors out. We can cut out up to eighty percent of the liver because it regenerates. The main thing we have to worry about is blood flow. We’ve got to be careful of the veins and arteries in there.

“We got everything we could. I almost lost him a couple of times. I had to close him up when I did.”

The man looked defeated. Kevin could see it in his eyes.

“So what does the future hold?”

“His tumors will grow and they will eventually kill him.”

“That’s it? Isn’t there anything that can be done?”

“I’m afraid not, Kevin. Medicine is a limited science. At this stage, cancer has the upper hand.”

“How long does he have?”

“Three months, maybe six.”

“And everybody else knows that?”

“Yeah. I’ve gone over all the options before with them.”

“What will his life be like in the months ahead?”

“Well, he’s got to recover from the surgery, which will take a while. But I expect his wounds to heal in a month or so, maybe sooner. He’ll start walking here in the hospital in a couple of days. He’s always going to be weak and he’ll gradually get weaker as the tumors take over, but your father will recover quicker and better than most.”

“Why do you say that?”

“I know him. He’s a tough guy. He didn’t even want to have this surgery. He did it for Kate.”

The last two sentences caused an artery to burst in Kevin’s brain. He stood up and leaned on Alex’s desk. “What the hell is with you people? You act like the man is a saint. I can tell you firsthand, he’s a far cry from sainthood. What do you know about him anyway? You’re a doctor. He’s a lawyer. What do you do, have drinks together at the country club?”

If he had thought about it, Kevin would never have laid into Alex Rivard at that moment. Alex wasn’t a young man, and he had just spent seven hours in surgery and was physically and emotionally drained. But Kevin wasn’t thinking straight. He hadn’t been thinking straight since he’d arrived in St. Albans.

It was funny. The more worked up Kevin seemed to get, the more relaxed Alex Rivard became. He leaned back in his chair with a smile on his face, his hands behind his head, and waited for Kevin to finish.

“Are you done?” he asked when Kevin almost fell back in his chair. Kevin didn’t answer.

“I’d like to tell you a story,” Alex began. “It goes back to 1963. Your father and I were young hotshots back then. We were both going to save the world in our different professions.

“You probably don’t know this, Kevin, but St. Albans was a flash point in the civil rights movement. In 1964, southern senators were filibustering against passage of the Civil Rights Act and had been doing so for months when some protesters, black and white, jumped into a pool at an all-white hotel here in St. Albans. The owner poured acid into the pool and somebody took a picture of him doing it. That picture was shown in newspapers around the world. It was a symbol of American bigotry. The filibuster ended right after that and the Civil Rights Act was passed.

“My story goes back to 1963, however. The Klan was real active here. Your father and I were part of the local movement. I was the doctor for the black community and your father was one of their lawyers.

“We got threats. One time they threw a brick through my office window. Another time they burned a cross on my front lawn.” Kevin noticed that Alex’s hands were no longer behind his head. His elbows were now resting on his knees and he was rubbing his hands together. He had a faraway look in his eyes like he was actually going back in time.

“We had a procedure that if I was called out on an emergency somebody would ride shotgun with me. Usually, it was your father because he and your mother lived right next door.

“One night I got a call. It was a setup but I obviously didn’t know it at the time. I almost didn’t contact your father because it was so late, but I decided to let the phone ring a couple of times. He answered it on the second ring and was standing outside my door, rifle in hand, in a matter of minutes. I don’t remember where we were going, but I do know we turned down a side street to get there. Halfway down the street this car pulls out of an alley right in front of us.

“It’s funny the things you remember. We were both laughing at the time because your father was telling me a hilarious story about this deposition he had that day, where the witness showed up dead-drunk. I didn’t think anything of that car pulling out, but your dad—he immediately stopped talking, opened the passenger door, slid out, and disappeared.

“Two seconds later a dump truck full of men in hoods pulled up behind me. The driver of the first car stepped out. He stood in front of the streetlight so I could see him clearly. Besides his hood, he had a rope with a noose on it slung over his right shoulder, and I was sure that I was about to die. I forgot all about your father. I was just looking at that noose.

“That’s when your father stepped out from behind an old oak tree not two feet from the man with the rope. His rifle was pointed right at the man’s right temple. Everybody could see him as well because of the streetlamp.

“I’ll never forget his words. ‘Listen up, boys,’ he said to the men in the truck in a calm but edgy tone. There were about eight of them huddled in there. ‘I’ve been wanting to shoot one of you for quite some time now. Looks like I’m finally gonna get my chance. I see a hood move on that truck, I’m gonna blow this man’s head off. He knows I’m going to do it too. He’s had fair warning.’

“The guy with the noose was shaking as bad as I was. ‘Listen to him, boys. He’s a crazy fuck,’ he yelled to the men in the truck.

“There was silence for what seemed like the longest time. Then your father spoke again, his voice as calm as could be. ‘What’ll it be, boys—do you wanna see your friend’s brains splattered all over kingdom come or do you wanna just drive on outta here?’ There was a second there when I didn’t know what was going to happen. I was looking in my rearview mirror and nobody on that truck was moving a muscle. Then slowly the truck started backing down the street.

“I’ll tell you that whole incident probably didn’t last more than five minutes, but it’s as indelible a part of my memory as the day my first child was born. So you see, your father and I are not the country-club set. When I tell you he’s a tough guy, I’m speaking from experience.”

Kevin ignored the point Alex was making—a point that shot down his accusation entirely—and focused for some reason on the minutiae.

“What did my father mean when he said that the man had fair warning?”

“A couple of months before this incident Tom had represented a black man, Reginald Porter—he still lives here in town—on a rape charge. It was a shit case. They had no evidence against Reginald except that he was black and he was in the neighborhood when the rape supposedly occurred. The woman never saw her assailant. Anyway, your father started getting the hate mail and the threatening telephone calls, all of which he ignored. Then one night they threw a brick through his living room window, almost hitting your mother.

“At the time everyone knew who the local leader of the Klan was. It was the worst-kept secret in town. The next day, Tom went to this guy’s real estate office and, in front of the entire office, put a .357 Magnum to the man’s head and told him that if anybody ever came to his house uninvited again, he was going to come back and blow his brains out.

“Tom somehow knew that the man with the noose was the real estate agent he had threatened, and every man out on the road that night knew about the history between the two of them. I don’t think anyone else could have made them turn around and go home. They thought your dad was crazy.”

Kevin had represented drug dealers and killers before so he was not easily surprised. He had never heard a story quite like the one Alex had just told him but it didn’t matter. He had something else on his mind.

“Do you know what happened between my father and mother, and why he never contacted me all these years?”

“I’m probably the only person who does.”

“Then why don’t you tell me that story?”

“It’s not my story to tell. I’ll make a deal with you, though—if your father dies without telling you what happened, I promise you I will. Fair enough?”

“Fair enough.”