Chain of Fools - Stevenson Richard (читать книги без TXT) 📗

"Before Eric there was all that great sex, of course," Skeeter said. "And I can't say I didn't love it. Most of it, anyway. But by the time I met Eric I wanted more than that. Jeez, I was so lucky I found him."

Releasing Skeeter's hand, Timmy said, "Where did you two meet, anyway?"

Skeeter chuckled. "Under a bush in Washington Park in Albany."

"Very romantic."

"It really was," Skeeter said, grinning through his thick beard. "Winter wasn't so great, but those summer nights were pretty wonderful sometimes."

"Timothy and I met under similar circumstances," I said, and Timmy smiled weakly.

"Was Don your first great love?" Skeeter asked.

Timmy stared at him and his lower lip twitched.

I said, "Not the first for either of us, Skeeter, but the deepest and longest."

Timmy said, "True, true."

While Timmy sat pensively, I told Skeeter I thought it was likely that Eric's murder was in some way connected with the lost jewels, since their purpose had been to generate cash that would save the Herald for the Osbornes.

"Damn, yes, that must be it!" Skeeter said. "But who besides Dan and Craig would have known that Eric knew about the jewels—if he did? Or do you think"—his dark eyes hardened—"do you think Dan could have had something to do with Eric's murder?"

I said I didn't know, that Dan was missing and I was unable to question him.

"Dan is moody and weird," Skeeter said, "but I really can't imagine him hurting anybody physically. Especially Eric. They were different, but in a 'way they understood and appreciated each other amazingly well. And I certainly can't see Dan trying to get Janet run over by a Jet Ski. Anyway, if somebody tried to run Dan and Arlene off a cliff, then somebody's after them too Unless he faked all that. Which, according to Eric, is the type of thing Dan used to do in his anti-Vietnam War days."

I told Skeeter that Arlene at least seemed to be a reliable witness to the road incident. Then I laid out Craig's theory that Chester had assumed Eric was in on the jewel-theft plot and killed Eric when he refused to acknowledge his complicity and turn over the proceeds from the heist to the conservative side of the Osborne family.

Skeeter's face tightened and he shifted angrily in the bed. "Chester! That jerk. Maybe it was him."

"Craig thinks so," I said, "but this is the speculation of a son who has apparently despised his father since childhood and isn't as objective as he could be."

"But Chester was always violent. You must have heard the stories."

I reminded Skeeter that Chester's outbursts had always been spontaneous, not premeditated, and I asked, "Would Chester have been out on a hiking trail where he might have run into Eric? Or would he actually have gone hiking with Eric?"

Skeeter shook his head morosely. "As far as I know, Chester hasn't been out on a hiking trail in years. In family pictures you can see him in the woods as a kid, but that was just because he had to. Chester was an Osborne, so he went into the wilderness. But as soon as he could choose, he headed for the country club."

Timmy said, "Skeeter, is there some chance that Eric was in on the jewel-theft plot? Not that he would want anybody to get killed. But maybe Craig had promised him and Dan nobody would get hurt and the robbery was a foolproof way to keep the Herald out of the hands of the bad chain, and Eric was naive enough to believe him."

"Out of the hands of what?" Skeeter looked deeply bewildered.

Timmy forced a little smile and said, "There are two newspaper

chains competing for the Herald. One's a good chain, and one's a bad chain. One's a daisy chain—that's a metaphor for the more socially enlightened, pro-environmentalist chain—and one's a chain of fools, so-called. The chain of fools is purely profit-oriented and environmentally and otherwise socially indifferent. It was you, Skeeter, as a matter of fact, who first explained this situation to Don and me and pointed out the likelihood that one of the Osborne factions competing over the future of the Herald had concocted a murder plot that resulted in Eric's death and presented great danger to Janet prior to next month's Herald board meeting."

Timmy fingered the two crutches—his own—leaning against Skeeter's bed. I wondered if he might pick one of them up and swat Skeeter with it, but he didn't. He said, "You were heavily medicated when you expressed your concerns to Don and me Tuesday night, Skeeter. So I guess all this has slipped your mind."

"You're right, it has," Skeeter said, looking embarrassed. "I remember that you and Don were here on Tuesday, or whatever day it was. And even though I was kind of out of it, I also remember from when you and Janet stopped in on Wednesday, I guess it was, Timmy, that you told me you and Don have been helping out around the house. And also, Don, that you've been playing detective. Hey, good for you. Thanks a lot from all of us. And Timmy, I want to tell you it's really great to be in touch with you again. Since my folks moved to Arizona, I'm hardly in touch with anybody back in Poughkeepsie. But you were always one of my favorite high-school classmates. It's really nice to see you."

Timmy smiled just perceptibly. He said, "It's really nice to see you too, Skeeter."

Skeeter had given us the name of the air service Eric had used for scattering his father's ashes over the mountains, and as we headed back up to Edensburg, and to the airport there, Timmy was silent for the first ten miles.

Finally, I said, "I think he was just being considerate of me—of both of us. Or maybe he thinks you never told me that you two were once a red-hot item."

After a moment, Timmy said, "That's pretty far-fetched."

"Why? Some people are just very discreet about their pasts."

He said nothing for a mile or so. Then: "Could I have imagined the

whole thing? Am I delusionary? Or was I delusionary in high school? Maybe my whole two-year sexfest with Skeeter took place entirely inside my own head. It was just tortured, conflicted, wishful thinking."

"Not according to what Skeeter was saying Tuesday night when he OD'd on prednisone," I said. "The drug seemed to be working as a truth serum on Skeeter, and the affair was certainly real enough to him then."

"Maybe the prednisone worked as a truth serum, or maybe it made him temporarily insane too, and he was imagining it all."

"Timothy, I can see how you're feeling disoriented and confused at this point, but keep in mind that it's Skeeter who's more likely to be delusionary. His brain was given a ferocious whack by a heavy-duty steroid drug. And I hate to say it, but there's also the possibility of the onset of HIV dementia. I doubt very much that it's you who is mixed up about the past."

Timmy shook his head fiercely, as if to try to loosen a mental ice jam. He moaned, "I don't know!" and then slumped in his seat.

After we'd sped up the Northway another mile, I said, "So where was Skeeter's birthmark?"

Timmy shifted, sat up a little, gazed over at me. "How did you know about that?"

"Skeeter mentioned it Tuesday night while you were out of the hospital room. He mentioned that you were once mighty pleased with that birthmark of his, but he didn't tell me where it was. Where was it?"

Timmy grinned. "I guess I'm not crazy."

"Of course not. Did you really think you were?"