Deadly Nightshade (27 page)

Domingo avoided Victoria's bright eyes.

Howland tilted his chair against the wall and looked away.

“Don't lean back in your chair,” Victoria said, and Howland set it back on its legs.

“You.” She nodded her head at the chief. “You cut off his testicles and stuffed them into his mouth, didn't you?”

The chief looked from Domingo to Howland. Both men were staring out the window.

“The barbarian answer to rape,” Victoria said. “You have a fourteen-year-old daughter, don't you?”

The chief looked blankly at his hands on the table.

“He raped your daughter, didn't he? Melody, your only daughter.”

“Stop!” The chief sagged over the table. “Yes. It wasn't money. Or drugs. I know what happens to rapists. Nothing.” He looked out the window. A chickadee was picking at seed in the bird feeder that hung from a post in the garden.

“Bernie Marble.” He spat out the name. “On probation for assault against a female employee. It wasn't assault. It was rape.” He laid his arms on the table and put his head on his arms. “I've seen what happens to women who are raped.” He lifted his head. “Girls. They're damaged for life by rape. When they go to court, what little they have left is ground into pieces by the defense lawyers and the courts. Ground up and spit out.”

Victoria, Howland, and Domingo were silent.

“I wasn't going to put my daughter through that.”

Birds chirped. Cars went by on the road beyond the tall board fence. The coffeemaker sputtered and stopped.

“And they say justice is done.” The chief sat up straight. “My only daughter fouled by that beast, my only son killed, my wife gone.”

The room was silent for several minutes. Then the chief said, “What do you want from me?”

“We have been after Folger for years,” Howland said. “He's smarter than most of us put together. For the first time, we have someone who can testify against him.”

“Not me!” the chief choked.

“You,” Howland said. “We want you to testify against him.”

“Christ! Put me away for life for Bernie. If Rocky gets me, he'll kill me by inches.”

“You testify, and Rocky will be put away forever,” Howland said. “He's been destroying lives for years. For years, we've been hoping he would make a mistake. He's too smart to make a mistake. But with your testimony and Liz Tate's, we've finally got him.”

“You'll never get Liz Tate to talk.”

“I think we will,” Domingo said.

“They're thick. What have you got on her?”

Domingo and Howland spoke at the same time. “She killed someone,” they said.

“Killed?” the chief said. “Killed who?”

There was a moment's silence. Finally, Victoria spoke up. “Your son.” She gazed at the chief with sympathy. “I'm sorry.”

The chief leapt to his feet, slammed his cap on his head, patted his gun holster, stuck his reflective glasses on his nose, and, in two agile steps, was at the door.

“Where do you think you're going?” Domingo asked.

“None of your fucking business.” the chief wrenched the handle of the sliding door, which jounced out of its track and bounce onto the patio pavement with a crash of breaking glass.

Howland was out of his chair and through the empty door before the glass shards settled, but the chief was already in the cruiser. The engine caught with a roar, the siren started wih a howl, and the strobe lights began to rotate. The vehicle took off with a squeal of tires and a blast of swirling sand.

“Where's he going?” Victoria, too, had stood up.

“More to the point, what's he going to do?” Domingo said.

Howland strode back into the room. “Hand me the phone book, Domingo. I need to call Liz Tate.” He already had the phone in hand and had dialed the first three digits.

“I'll look it up for you.” Victoria reached for the phone book as Domingo searched through his pockets for his glasses. She read the number to Howland.

“Seems to me it would solve the problem if we let things take their natural course,” she said to Domingo as Howland waited for someone to answer the phone.

Howland put his hand over the mouthpiece. “We can't afford to lose her as a witness. We've finally got something on one of the biggest drug operations in the Northeast.”

“I can't believe Rocky is involved in anything like this.”

Domingo snorted.

“He seems so refined,” Victoria said.

“Yeah,” said Domingo. “Refined.”

“No answer. Not even a machine.” Howland slammed the cordless phone onto the glass-topped table.

Victoria winced. “Don't break anything else.”

“Look up Allison Phipps's number.” Domingo pointed to the phone book. “She has her own phone. Her aunt may be there.”

Victoria paged back to the P listings and gave the number to Howland, who punched it in and handed the phone to Domingo.

“You talk to the kid,” Howland growled.

Domingo looked from Howland to Victoria while he waited for an answer.

“Yas,” he said into the phone after what seemed a long time. “This is the harbormaster. I need to speak to Ms. Tate.”

Victoria could hear a woman's voice come on the line.

Domingo identified himself, and Victoria heard the woman talk at a higher and higher volume, until finally Domingo interrupted her.

“Chief Medeiros is looking for you in connection with his son's death.”

He listened, looking from Howland to Victoria.

“I understand. However, the chief seems to believe you had something to do with it.”

He waited.

“You knew Fatso was his son, didn't you? His only son?”

He listened.

“Correct.” He nodded. “Yas.”

He shrugged at Victoria. “That may be. However, you had better stay out of his way for the time being.”

He interrupted the flow of talk. “You have no time to go home. He left here less than five minutes ago with his siren on. He'll try your niece's place when he finds you are not at home.”

Long pause.

“Go to Victoria Trumbull's. It's unlikely that he'll think of her house.” He looked questioningly at Victoria, who nodded. “She has room. Drive the long way around, through Edgartown. You know where she lives. He's heading into Oak Bluffs on Barnes.”

Domingo showed impatience. “For God's sake, get out, now.” He pressed the off button and set the phone down.

“She has to argue over everything I say.”

“Maybe she and the chief will have a shoot-out, and that will be that,” Victoria said.

“I need both of them.” Howland paced. “I can't afford to lose either one. Those two are the break we've needed.”

Domingo looked at his watch.

Howland stepped carefully over the doorsill, then paused when Victoria began to speak.

“What about Dojan?” she said. “Should he get off scot-free?”

Howland came back slowly into the room and faced Victoria, who was standing by the couch, her hooded eyes on him.

“What about Dojan?” he said.

“Dojan killed someone.” Victoria looked intently at him.

“The only reason we know is because he told Domingo. We can't hang him on his own word,” Howland said.

“Will he go unpunished, then?” Victoria's knobby hands hung by her side.

Howland sat down again, and Victoria did, too.

“You know how much I care for Dojan,” she said. “But he did kill Meatloaf, by his own admission. Shouldn't he be tried? I would be if I'd harpooned somebody.”

Howland and Domingo were silent. Domingo looked out the window where his grandson's tricycle lay on its side in the trampled grass. Howland studied his fingernails.

Finally, Howland said, “The government has been after Rocky for a long, long time. He's been responsible for more than a dozen deaths. Indirectly, he has probably killed three times that through drug trafficking.”

“What does that have to do with Dojan?” Victoria asked.

“We can get Rocky only if someone with credibility will testify against him. Chief Medeiros and Liz Tate have that credibility.”

“So you're making deals, blaming the chief for Meatloaf's death, blaming Meatloaf for Bernie's murder, and letting Dojan off entirely?”

“It's not my decision, Victoria,” Howland said.

“Blame your superiors,” she said. “More buck passing. I'm ashamed of you, Howland.”

Howland looked down at his hands. “Victoria, if I were running the world, Rocky would be put away forever. Chief Medeiros would be put away almost forever. There were some mitigating circumstances. Dojan would be ... I don't know what I'd do with Dojan.”

“But you're not running the world,” Victoria said.

“You're right. My bosses tell me what to do. Presumably, they know more than I do about the Rocky Folger drug case. It's their judgment, right or wrong, to get Rocky, any way we can.”

“No matter how you do it?” Victoria said. “What's happened to the justice system?”

“Rocky has wriggled and squirmed through every loophole in the system. The killings, of Bernie, of Meatloaf, then of the chief's son, offer our only hope to nail him.”

Victoria gazed at him steadily.

“Hear me, Victoria. Medeiros will be put away permanently. He'll have to start life all over again in the witness protection program. He's not rotten. He's weak.”

“You're not listening to me,” Victoria said. “You can't let Dojan off completely just because you have some bizarre plan to trap Rocky. You—or your superiors—have no right to judge Dojan. Maybe the courts will find him innocent by reason of self-defense or insanity, but in this country, you, some government employee, can't just let him go”—she gestured with a casual wave of her hand—”like that. That's not justice. You ought to know better. You're blaming the less horrible killing on Chief Medeiros so he'll testify against Rocky. Will you say Meatloaf killed Bernie? Meatloaf, who can't defend himself?”

“Wait one second, Victoria.” Howland looked up. “We have to be concerned with the greater good here.”

“None of it is good,” Victoria said. “It's all rotten.”

“Least bad, then,” Howland responded. “We've been after Rocky for fifteen years. During that time, he has destroyed more lives than you and I can count. Kids on the street shooting up dope. Murder, prostitution, muggings, the whole panoply of crime. He's got to be stopped. For the first time, we have two people we can negotiate with in exchange for their testimony. Dojan's not a killer. His conscience will punish him.”

Victoria shook her head vigorously. “Noreen said it to Domingo—neither of you is God. Nor are your superiors. What right do you have to judge Rocky and Meatloaf and Chief Medeiros and Liz Tate? And Dojan? Who gave you the right?”

“Can I say something, sweetheart?” Domingo said.

“I've heard enough.” Victoria struggled to her feet.

Domingo held his hand up, palm facing her like a crossing guard. “Tell me, sweetheart, how would you make sure justice is done? What do you suggest?”

Victoria sighed and sat down again. She studied the two men, who gazed back at her intently. Domingo's clock ticked; a car went by on the road; a chickadee landed on the feeder, which swung on its hook.

Victoria hoisted herself up from the couch with dignity. She drew herself up to her full height; although she'd shrunk somewhat over the years, she was still stately. “Turn him over to the tribe,” she said. “The Wampanoags will know what to do.”

Domingo sat still. Without moving his head, he looked from Victoria to Howland, who was staring in astonishment at Victoria.

“He's a tribal member,” Victoria said. “The tribe has jurisdiction over its members.”

Domingo got up, too, and held out his hand to her. “You'd have made a great judge, sweetheart.”

Victoria heard a car drive up, heard Baby Mingo's voice and then footsteps.

“Shit, Domingo. Now what have you done?” Noreen stopped and stared down at the shower of glass fragments on the patio.

“I can explain, honey,” said Domingo.

“I'm leaving.” Howland stepped through the open door frame and kicked at the paving of broken glass. “Let me drive you home, Victoria. If Liz Tate shows up, I want to deal with her.”

They were parking beneath the Norway maple just when Liz Tate's white Mercedes pulled in beside them.

Liz stepped out of her car, slammed the door shut, and marched over to Howland's car.

“Would you mind telling me what this is about?” she said. “I gather you were at Domingo's and heard. I'm too busy for this.”

Howland nodded. “You may have nothing to worry about. However, we thought you should play it safe, at least until the chief cools down.”

“Come in,” Victoria said. “I'll show you to your room.”

“I have no intention of staying here.” Liz marched back to her car and opened the door.

“At least come in for a cup of coffee. Won't take a minute to brew it,” Victoria said.

After a few moments, Liz followed Victoria into the cookroom. Without a word, she sat in one of the caned chairs at the pine table and crossed her legs. McCavity followed her, looked up at her, turned, and left.

“I'm allergic to cats. If I decide to stay, it will have to remain outdoors. I hope it hasn't been in my room.”

Victoria's jaw set. She opened the refrigerator door to take out the half-and-half. McCavity rose up on his hind legs.

“You've had your food, Cavvy.” Victoria looked at Liz Tate sitting stiffly in the chair that Victoria considered her own. Liz placed her elbows on the red-checked tablecloth.

Howland joined her at the table.

“Do you plan on letting me know what this is all about?” she asked. She shook her foot impatiently.

“I think you have a good idea. Chief Medeiros is prepared to testify against your boss.”

“What are you talking about?” Liz stopped shaking her foot.

“You didn't realize the chief's son was in jail, did you? Did you even know he had a son?”

Victoria carried two cups of coffee to the table. Liz Tate put her hands in her lap. Victoria could see they were trembling.

“Thank you, Mrs. Trumbull,” Liz Tate said dismissively. “You don't need to sit in on this.”

“Yes, I think I do.” Victoria pulled the chair that was usually Elizabeth's up to the table and sat across from Liz.