Fatal Flaw Part 49

There was a hesitation, and then the door closed for an moment before opening wider. I reached into my pocket, turned off the tape recorder, stepped inside.

Ninety minutes later I walked out that door with Dwayne Joseph Bohannon by my side. He was wearing a clean shirt, a jacket, his arms were outstretched in front of him, palms up, fingers open.

He followed me along the portico, down the stairs, past the police cars and the uniforms, all the way to Troy Jefferson, standing between Breger and Stone.

Dwayne glanced at me. His face was hideous, scabbed and scratched, infected and bleeding, but still I smiled and nodded him on. He wiped his nose with the sleeve of his jacket.

"I want to tell what happened," he said in a slow, stuttering voice. "Everything. I want to tell. I do. I want to. But first, Mr. Carl here, he told me I need a doctor. A skin doctor. To stop this itching. I'm itching like crazy. I need a doctor. Then I need a lawyer. A different lawyer than him. He told me I have the right and that I ain't gonna say nothing until I do."

Troy Jefferson just stared at him.

"Oh, yeah," said Dwayne, pulling a piece of paper out of his pocket and handing it to Jefferson. "Mr. Carl, he also gave me this."

53.

"YOU WERE in there for an hour and a half," said Troy Jefferson as he looked over the subpoena I had served on Dwayne Joseph Bohannon. Bohannon himself had been cuffed and placed, into the back of one of the patrol cars while the cops searched the motel room. "Have a nice conversation?" in there for an hour and a half," said Troy Jefferson as he looked over the subpoena I had served on Dwayne Joseph Bohannon. Bohannon himself had been cuffed and placed, into the back of one of the patrol cars while the cops searched the motel room. "Have a nice conversation?"

"It was hard to go deep, you calling up to the room every ten minutes or so, though I was touched at your concern for my welfare."

"The Delaware cops were nervous. They didn't know you could sleaze yourself out of tighter spots than that."

"Practiced as I am in the arts of deception and trickery."

"There you go. Did he tell you anything?"

"No, not really."

"You mean he didn't fall down on his knees and confess to the Hailey Prouix murder?"

"I wouldn't let him."

Jefferson's head jerked up. "You wouldn't let him? What the h.e.l.l do you mean, you wouldn't let him?"

"You know how it is, Troy. Defense attorneys never want to know for sure."

"But you're not his defense attorney."

"Old habits die hard."

"If he had actually confessed, it would have saved your client."

"My client is already saved."

"Don't be so d.a.m.n sure."

"You heard the judge. After Cutlip's testimony she has doubts whether the case should even go to the jury. What happens now if I put Bobo on the stand during the defense case and ask him if he killed Hailey Prouix? He'll plead the Fifth in front of the jury and kill your case."

"The judge won't allow that."

"Oh, yes she will. It's an acquittal, probably before the case goes to the jury. And rightly so, considering you have the wrong guy. Cutlip sent Bobo east to kill Guy Forrest and the kid screwed up. My client was the intended victim, not a perpetrator. You have the wrong man, Troy."

"You set me up."

"Maybe I did, and if I did, I must admit, it felt fine."

"Son of a b.i.t.c.h."

"But, Troy, no one else has to know about it. The press is going to want a statement from both of us after this. Either you can go in front of the ma.s.sed media and admit to being played for the rube, or you can stand side by side with Detectives Breger and Stone and announce that your office had broken the case wide open and found the two actual killers of Hailey Prouix."

He turned his head and stared at me without saying a word.

"If your office wanted to take credit for continuing the investigation even after the indictment," I said, "for unearthing the crucial speeding ticket, for bringing Lawrence Cutlip into the jurisdiction and effecting the arrest of Dwayne Joseph Bohannon in cooperation with the Delaware State Police, I wouldn't contradict a single word."

"You'd sit back and let us bask in the glory?"

"Absolutely."

"Why?"

"'Cause I'm a sweetheart, and because all I want is for it to be over. But you have to decide quickly. Guy shouldn't spend another day in jail."

"What about the Juan Gonzalez fraud?"

"Time served, no more. He's through as a lawyer, and he's paid enough penance for burying that file, trust me. Time served, no probation, he's free to start his life over again."

Jefferson twisted his mouth into thought. "I'll run it by the DA. He agrees, we'll do it all tomorrow morning in court. Your boy will be out by noon."

"Good. And you ought to give Breger a commendation for his work in this case. In fact, the old man's probably close to retirement. A raise in grade might raise his pension, too, make those golden years a little more golden."

"He doesn't like to be called the old man."

"Best as I can tell, he doesn't like a lot of things."

"I'll see what I can do."

"But for everything to go down like we've agreed, you have to promise me one more favor."

"Aw, now, here it comes, here's the payoff. All right, Carl, let me hear it. What's your price?"

"You need to show pity on Bohannon."

"Come again?"

"He's a screwed-up kid who fell in with someone truly evil and lost himself in the process. Cutlip bent him to his will and, in so doing, destroyed him. I'm not saying he shouldn't pay for what he did, but he was just a tool that Cutlip used and tossed away without a backward glance. Bohannon was going to scratch himself to death out of guilt if we hadn't shown up when we did. Give him a deal and take your venom out on Cutlip."

The cops came out of the room waving a plastic bag with the gun inside. It had been sitting atop the bed, just where Dwayne and I had left it for them to find.

"I'll think on it," Jefferson said before leaving me to talk it over with the ranking uniform. It wasn't hard to figure what would happen next. They would take Dwayne now to Dover and charge him with a firearms violation. They would take him to Dover, but he wouldn't be in Dover long. Jefferson would extradite him to Pennsylvania, where he would be a.s.signed a lawyer who would make a deal in exchange for his testimony against Lawrence Cutlip. I didn't know how long he'd get, it would be a lot, and all of it deserved, but he would get some kind of a deal, and the Delaware firearms charge would undoubtedly run concurrently. He'd spend part of his life outside the prison walls, and that didn't bother me one bit. It was funny how at the start of the case I had wanted nothing but the harshest vengeance visited upon the man who shot Hailey Prouix through the heart, and now I had done what I could to make sure the law went as easy as possible on her killer. But I had seen the writing on his skin.

"You don't look very happy," said Detective Breger, coming up from behind me. "You should be dancing."

"I'm jitterbugging. Doesn't it show?"

"It looks like you ate one fried oyster too many. But you had quite the day, finding Bobo and, before that, breaking Cutlip like you did."

"I didn't break Cutlip."

"Sure you did."

"No, Detective. He wanted us to know about him and Hailey. He was proud of it. As soon as he found out she had been keeping his letter with the others, that she never stopped loving him for some twisted reason, he wanted us to know. All I did was let him. The hemming and hawing, the tears, the hesitancy, it was an act, and I was his straight man, but he wanted to crow."

"He pretty much confessed to murder on the stand."

"That was the price for his bragging rights. I'll bet right now that b.a.s.t.a.r.d is smiling. I'll bet right now he's talking about her to his fellow inmates. How supple she was, how fine she was. How she was the sweetest twelve-year-old ever to sashay down a junior high corridor."

"Stop it. You're beating yourself up over something you weren't even in the same state to stop. All you did was clean up the resulting mess. You have nothing to be sick over, you did swell."

"I don't feel swell, I feel dirty."

"Guys like that, even locking them up makes you want to take a shower."

I kicked at the cement.

"You did well, son," said Breger.

"Are you turning sweet on me, Detective?"

"No. In my book you're still an obnoxious punk. By the way, we need you to sign off and let us examine those phone logs."

"What?"

"The phone logs. To your home phone. We still want them."

"No you don't."

"Really, we do."

"No you don't."

"Yes, yes we do. We need to tie up all the loose ends. That was the deal."

"You don't want those phone logs, trust me. Jefferson will make an offer, Bobo will confess, both he and Cutlip will end up in prison. Put them away, swallow the key to Cutlip's cell, and end it."

"I was right, wasn't I?"

"No phone logs."

"All along I've been right."

"The case is over, our deal is null and void."

"The thing that puzzles me, Victor, is how in the h.e.l.l you thought you'd get away with it."

"But I did, didn't I."

He stared at me for a moment, his strange gaze playing across my face, and then he burst out in laughter, a deep, bellowing laughter, the first I'd ever heard from him. He burst out in laughter and slammed me in the back. "Maybe you did at that," he said, walking away, and then he burst into laughter again.

I walked over to Beth and Skink, who were standing together in a corner of the lot.

"What went on in there?" said Beth. "We were scared out of our skulls for you."

"It's over. The case is over. Jefferson has to okay it with his boss, but it looks like Guy's getting out tomorrow."

"You were up there for an hour and a half."

"It seemed longer," I said.

"Did he do it?" said Skink.

"I wouldn't let him tell me, but, yeah. He did it."

"What went on in that room for an hour and a half?" said Beth.

"I had some questions, and he answered them, and that was it."

"You don't want to talk about it."

"No I don't. Ever. Never. But I'll tell you this: What he told me will haunt my dreams to the day I die. Let's get the h.e.l.l out of here."

We turned away from the scene at the motel, the three of us turned away and started heading down the road, our shadows marching before us like soldiers.

"There's a crab shack on the bay what I know of," said Skink, "where they gots them fat and covered with spice. You interested?"

I looked at Beth. She shrugged.

"They serve beer?" I said.

"Longnecks, mate."

"Music?"

"A jukebox from heaven. Nothing from after 1967. Five plays a buck."