Murder in Little Egypt (34 page)

In the morning they found Dale in the living room, passed out in a reclining chair.

20

DAVE BARRON ARRANGED TO HAVE A COUPLE OF PLAINCLOTHES officers watch Kevin’s apartment. Barron was not worried about Dr. Cavaness’s violence—he was sure to be on his best behavior, unless he was a homicidal maniac, a hypothesis Barron rejected—but he wanted to make sure that the doctor stayed in town. If the Cavanesses spotted the men as cops, they would assume that they had been assigned to protect them against the unknown killer or killers. Kevin and Charli had already told Barron that they were frightened.

On Saturday, waiting for Marian Green to arrive, Barron decided that it was time to dig up what he could about the murder of the other son. He wondered about Detective Jack Nolen, of whom Kevin had spoken with some misgivings. Barron knew nothing about southern Illinois, but he gathered that Dr. Cavaness was a local hero there. In a small, rural place, everybody would know everybody. If this Jack Nolen could not keep his mouth shut or, not an inconceivable possibility, if Nolen was on the take, Dr. Cavaness could be tipped off and the whole case blown out of the water.

Barron decided to check Jack Nolen out before contacting him. He telephoned an officer whom he knew over at the Illinois D.C.I. office across the river in East St. Louis and asked for a run-down. He would not find a better man, Barron was told. Nolen was savvy, honest, and he knew more about southern Illinois than anyone else. If Barron could not rely on Jack Nolen, he would be up shit creek down there.

Barron reached Nolen at home in Harrisburg. Nolen had already heard about Sean’s death; it was in the local papers.

Barron conveyed his instincts about connections between Sean’s death and Mark’s. The M.O. was similar: shot and left out in a lonely place.

“Is that right?” Nolen said in his enigmatic way. “Well isn’t that interesting? What do you know? Kind of makes you wonder, doesn’t it?”

What was the status of the earlier case, Barron asked. Nolen said that it remained an open homicide. He had been unable to arrest anybody. “Kind of a sore point, if you want to know the truth,” Nolen said. “Bugs the hell out of me. Kevin Cavaness still calls me. I can understand it. The guy can’t sleep, thinking about his brother. How’s he holding up? Hell of a thing, another brother gone. It’s not like your everyday situation. No, it’s not.”

Barron told Nolen that he needed his help. Could he keep a secret? If this got out, the St. Louis case would be fucked. Nolen assured him that he was very good at keeping secrets. One of the best.

“We’ve got him,” Barron said. “We haven’t booked him yet, but we know who he is.”

“Is that right, well, I’ll be damned,” Nolen said. “I guess you fellows work pretty fast up there. Don’t keep me hanging here with my mouth open. Who the hell is it?”

“The father,” Barron said. “The doctor. Dr. Cavaness. No question.”

“Son of a bitch. Everything’s coming into focus.”

“Yeah? Everything’s coming into focus?”

“Now I know the doc killed Mark.”

Dave Barron and Jack Nolen were on the phone for more than an hour. They exchanged everything they knew. When Nolen described the drug bust and his frustration at not being able to arrest the doc, Barron quoted what Dale had said the night before about drugs being a factor in Sean’s death and desperate people doing desperate things.

“He knows what he’s talking about,” Nolen laughed. “Think he’s giving you a hint? He’s pretty clever, I can tell you that. He’s a cute one. And he doesn’t think anybody else is good enough to shine his shoes. I wish I could make the arrest myself.”

Barron said that in the long run he hoped that he could get the doc to admit to both killings.

“He might,” Nolen said, “and he might not.”

Early Saturday evening Dave Barron drove alone over to Kevin’s apartment to interview Marian. Barron relished the situation, knowing who the killer was while everyone else was in the dark, but he was on edge. He felt like an actor in a murder mystery, the kind that was not supposed to happen in real life; he was the sleuth toying with family members, acting cordial, casually indifferent. He worried that his secret was written on his face.

Dale greeted him like an old fraternity brother, introduced him to the ex-wife. A classy lady, was Barron’s impression of Marian. He found it difficult to imagine that Dale and Marian had once been married, the contrast between them was so great. He met Patrick, quiet and withdrawn, and Charli’s sister and brother-in-law. Kevin offered to take his father, Patrick, and Charli’s relatives out for pizza, so Barron could talk to Marian alone.

Charli stayed behind. Barron escorted her to the bedroom, where he noticed a pistol lying on the bedside table. It was Kevin’s, Charli said. He had been worried that somebody was after them. She asked Barron quietly if the police had anything concrete. Were they making any progress at all? Feeling that he had to tell her something, Barron chose his words carefully.

“Keep this to yourself, Charli. But if finding the killer is what it will take to give you and your family a merry Christmas—well, then you’ll have a merry Christmas. If that’s what it’ll take.”

He was tempted to confide more in her, but he decided that he had said enough. It would be too much to ask of her to tolerate having Dale in her home if she knew the truth.

He sat down with Marian in the kitchen. He began asking her about Sean and learned that he had been very upset at first about Marian’s second marriage but had seemed finally to accept it. She talked of Sean’s treatment for alcoholism. Barron asked her if Sean had ever indicated contemplating suicide. Only once, Marian said. Sean had been drunk and had talked about blowing himself away. He had been terribly affected by the death of her other son. But she did not consider Sean suicidal. Confused, yes.

Suicide had never been a possibility in this case, with two shots to the head, but Barron was trying to cover all the bases. There was no telling what a defense attorney would come up with. Barron’s own view, which he kept to himself, was that anyone who drank the way Sean apparently had was suicidal; and the slovenly condition of his apartment indicated a seriously depressed young man; but that was irrelevant. He had been murdered, denied the chance to change and fulfill his life.

Marian said that she had had misgivings about leaving town, knowing that Sean was not in the best of shape; but she did not think that continuing to live with her would do him any good. And he still would have Kevin and Charli in St. Louis. Perhaps she had made a mistake.

It was ridiculous for her to blame herself, Barron told her. Her leaving had nothing to do with Sean’s death. He said that he was sure that her new husband would agree.

She had told Les Green not to accompany her on this trip, Marian said. There was no sense in putting him through all this. He had not known Sean well; he had never met Dale; it would be too much of a strain.

It was about Dale that Barron wanted to hear. He began asking a few questions about Marian’s marriage to the doctor. His guess was that Dale had been a bastard to her: A woman with four children did not divorce a wealthy doctor without good cause; she had struggled on her own for years before marrying again. But he needed to hear her version and hoped that she would be able to repeat some horror stories in court.

Marian bristled as soon as Barron asked her about Dale.

“That’s my business,” she said, her voice icing over, “and it has nothing to do with Sean’s death. I’ll tell you one thing. I loved that man, very, very much. And if you want me to prove it, I will.”

Barron backed off. He saw that Marian was in such an emotional state that she was probably not thinking clearly and might not even remember what she said to him now. Evidently she still had feelings for Dale, or thought she did. He wondered what on earth she had in mind to prove it. Whatever love for him she had left was going to receive quite a shock in a couple of days’ time.

Barron wound up the conversation. It had been an unproductive interview, but he was sure that Marian would have more to say later.

Over at Buster Murphy’s pizza restaurant, Kevin and Charli’s sister and brother-in-law were reminiscing about Sean—how good he was with children, how affectionate he was, how thoughtful, how willing to give his time to others. Dale, who had been silent throughout the spontaneous eulogies, broke in.

“Now wait just a minute, he said. “Let’s not make Sean into something he was not.”

“What do you mean by that?” Kevin asked.

“He was an embarrassment to me,” Dale said.

Kevin demanded that Dale take back his remark. He said that he could not believe that his father would say such a thing at a time like this.

“Sorry,” Dale said. “Just talking.”

Dale was supposed to stay in a motel room that Charli had reserved for him, but the Cavanesses ended up together in the apartment, talking through most of the night. They all agreed that the funeral should be in St. Louis, rather than in Eldorado, but Dale raised objections to just about everything else that anyone suggested. He could not afford a big funeral, he wanted no flowers and no music, he could not spend the money.

At this Marian, who had been sentimental, saying that she was glad to have the family together at this time, grew livid.

“You can do something for him this once,” she said. “You never did anything for him when he was alive. You wouldn’t give him the time of day.”

Dale protested. Why was he being attacked? What was going on here? What was the point of having a big funeral when Sean had no friends anyway?

“That’s bullshit,” Kevin said. “Sean had lots of friends in St. Louis. Everybody loved Sean. What the hell are you driving at?”

Charli calmed everybody down. Dale relented. The funeral, including music and flowers, would be held on Monday at the Fitzinger funeral home in Kirkwood which had taken care of Marian’s mother and other family members. A minister from the Central Presbyterian Church would conduct the service. When they began discussing which songs or hymns would be appropriate to Sean’s memory, Dale suggested “Onward, Christian Soldiers” and “The Battle Hymn of the Republic.” He was overruled. Marian said that she had never heard of anything so bizarre in her life as the idea that someone would sing “Onward, Christian soldiers, marching as to war” at a funeral.

The Reverend John P. Splinter chose Proverbs 14:32 as the text for his eulogy: “The wicked is thrust down by his wrongdoing, but the righteous has a refuge when he dies.” Dale wept throughout the sermon. Marian, sitting beside him, patted him and tried to comfort him. In the rear of the chapel, which was crowded with family friends from St. Louis and southern Illinois, Dave Barron observed Dale’s performance with amazement. Barron felt like rushing to the front and telling the assembled mourners the truth; he listened as the minister, reading from notes supplied him by family and friends, described Sean as sweet, kind, considerate, gentle, a lover of people, a man who never met a stranger.

“A favorite poet of mine,” Reverend Splinter said, “has described the death of a young man, such as Sean, by comparing the death with ‘. . . a stupid fool, slamming a foolish door.’ Sean’s death was senseless.”

Barron stood near the family afterward as they greeted people. Dale had turned off the tears and now seemed almost ebullient, shaking hands, slapping people on the back, behaving as if the occasion were a wedding rather than a funeral. He spotted Barron and waved him over.

“This is my buddy, Detective Dave Barron,” Dale announced to everyone. “He’s the best damned detective in St. Louis. He’s going to catch whoever did this to Sean. He is one fine detective, let me tell you.”

Dale greeted Pann Beck with a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

“I’m so sorry, Dale,” she said.

“Now don’t you worry, dear,” Dale said. “Meet Detective Dave Barron. He’s going to solve this thing. They have the first team on this. It isn’t like the Saline County Mounties, you know. Give us a kiss. How about coming around to Kevin’s afterward for a drink?”

Barron had decided to wait to make the arrest until the doc was alone in his car, headed back to Illinois. He understood that Dale did not plan to leave town until the next day, Tuesday, December 18. He followed him back to Kevin’s apartment and stationed men to watch his car all night in case he tried to take off early. Barron instructed the officers not to let the doctor cross the Mississippi.

That evening after the friends who had gathered to visit and eat and drink had left, Charli said that Tina Crowley had mentioned that someone had been seen hanging around Sean’s apartment on Wednesday, the night before he had been killed. Tina said that Peggy Kroeck had told her that the man looked something like Sean’s father. It seemed strange. Peggy had not said anything else to Tina.

“That’s weird,” Kevin said. “You weren’t up here then, were you, Dad?”

“No,” Dale said emphatically, throwing up his hands.

Kevin wondered what the appropriate thing would be to do with Sean’s ashes. Perhaps they should be scattered with Mark’s at the Hickory Handle farm.

“I think you ought to let Tina Crowley have them,” Dale said. “She loved him. You saw her at the funeral. She was real torn up.”

“I think that’s a terrible idea,” Charli said, and Kevin joined her. In no time Kevin and Dale got into a furious argument. Dale insisted that Tina should have the ashes, while Kevin demanded that he trash such a ridiculous notion, asking why in hell someone who had only known Sean for six months should be given possession of his remains. Father and son shouted back at one another. Marian and Charli were afraid they would come to blows.

They did not reconcile until the next day, as Dale was preparing to leave. Kevin extended his hand, and they shook, but Dale continued to sulk, saying that he had been surprised that Kevin could get so angry at him. He had not known that Kevin could feel that way about him. He had been hurt.

Kevin and Charli apologized for having lost their tempers in the argument over the ashes. They did not back down, however, insisting that they still felt strongly about the impropriety of Dale’s suggestion.