Evidence

“And his foldouts from Hustler, no matter how gynecologic and how much Mom considered herself a feminist. And his Che poster and whatever else he wanted. I’m sure Mom and Dad never imagined him doing anything more with those books than reading.”

“Until the fire.”

“The weekend after the fire, I was home for the weekend. Getting my laundry done, Ms. Independence. Mom and Dad were at work but Desi was home so I knocked on his door. He took a really long time to unlock, didn’t seem thrilled to see me, wasn’t the least bit warm. Which was odd, generally we’d share a big hug. But this time he looked flustered, like I’d interrupted something. My first thought was something adolescent-you know what I mean.”

“Those Hustler foldouts.”

“He was seventeen.” Blushing. “Then I saw that his room had been completely rearranged, even the bed was in a new place. Desi was always neat but now it looked downright compulsive. A lot less stuff in the room. Including the books. All gone, and in place of the Che poster he’d hung a photo of moose in the forest. I made some wisecrack about redecorating, had he turned gay or something. Instead of laughing like he normally would’ve, he just stood there. Then he edged me away from the door. Not by touching me, by inching forward, so I was forced to leave or bump into him. Then he closed the door behind him and we both went to the kitchen and he was the same old Desi, smiling and funny.”

I said, “Focusing on you instead of his room.”

“Desi was great at that. He could make you feel you were the center of the universe. Then he’d ask for something and you just said yes, no hesitation.”

“Did you ever bring up the fire?”

“Not with Desi, just with Mom. She got a strange look in her eye, changed the subject. That whole weekend was strange.”

“All three of them nervous.”

“I felt like a stranger. But in the beginning, I didn’t connect it to the fire. It was only after I found out that Desi and some of his friends were questioned by the police that things started to click.”

Milo said, “Were you ever questioned?”

“No, and I wouldn’t have said anything. I had nothing to offer, anyway.” She wadded a tissue, released her fingers and watched it open like a time-lapse flower.

I said, “Did Desi keep anything suspicious in his room besides books?”

“If he did, I wouldn’t know. He had a lock on his door and used it.”

“Liked his privacy.”

“Sure, but what teenager doesn’t? I figured it was because of all those girls he took in there. Was Doreen one of them? Probably, but only one, he might as well have had a revolving door. And, no, my parents never objected. Desi would play music to block out the sound but sometimes you could hear the bed knocking against the wall. Mom and Dad just continued to read or watch TV, pretended not to hear.”

“So your parents were used to looking the other way.”

“You’re saying that made it easier for them to cover for Desi when he did something really bad?” Long exhalation. “Maybe.”

Milo said, “After the FBI questioned Desi, you started to wonder.”

“The FBI? All I heard about was the police. The FBI actually came to the house?”

“They did, Ricki. Talked to your parents, as well as Desi.”

“Unbelievable… only reason I found out the police were involved was by reading the Daily-the U of W paper. Something to the effect that no progress had been made but local kids were being questioned and Desi’s name was mentioned. Did I say anything? No.”

Milo said, “What do you know about Desi’s ten years on the road?”

“Just what I told you yesterday.”

“Doing the hippie thing.”

“Retro-hippie,” said Ricki Flatt. “Original hippie was my parents’ generation. Then all of a sudden, he shaves his beard, cuts his hair, buys nice clothes, enrolls in architecture school. I remember thinking, so now he wants to build, not destroy.”

“The fire stayed on your mind.”

“I’m not moral enough to be haunted by it, but every so often, it would creep into my mind. Because that boy had died and the police had suspected my brother enough to question him and my parents had acted so weird.”

“Do you have any idea how Desi reconnected to Doreen?”

“None whatsoever.”

“He never mentioned her.”

“He never brought up any woman, Lieutenant. I just assumed he was being himself.”

“Meaning?”

“Playing the field and keeping it casual.”

“Did he mention any women from his years on the road?”

“Not a one. The fifty thousand, you’re pretty convinced he was into something seriously illegal?”

“That’s a lot of cash, Ricki.” She grew silent.

Milo said, “A couple of other kids in Desi’s hiking group were also questioned after the fire: Dwayne Parris and Kathy Vanderveldt. Anything you remember about them?”

“I wouldn’t know them if you showed me a picture. I was three years older. To me they were all a bunch of stupid kids.”

“You mentioned before that Desi was into health. Did he ever mention vegan Jell-O?”

“Sure.”

“He did, huh?”

“Why?” said Ricki Flatt. “What does food have to do with it?”

“Vegan Jell-O’s homemade napalm, Ricki. It might’ve been used in the Bellevue fire.”

She went white. “Oh, my God.”

“What did Desi say about vegan Jell-O?”

“I… I don’t know, it’s just something I heard him mention. It’s really that?”

“Yes, Ricki.”

“I honestly thought it was food, some crazy organic thing.”

“Did he talk about it before the Bellevue fire or after?”

“Let me think, let me think… all I can recall is Desi and some friends in the kitchen, having a snack before… maybe before a hike-I think they were packing trail mix, water bottles, and then someone, maybe it was Desi, maybe it was someone else, I really don’t recall, said something why don’t we pack vegan Jell-O. And everyone started laughing.”

“Was Doreen there?”

“Was she there… probably. I can’t be sure, maybe not, I don’t know.” Wincing. “Vegan Jell-O… Now I have to think about my brother in a whole new way.”

CHAPTER 23

Milo closed the motel door on a fetal Ricki Flatt. “Sweet dreams? Unlikely.”

Back in the car, he said, “Those parents had to know their boy was involved in torching that house.”

I said, “Firefighter dad, too much to handle.”

“Backer does God-knows-what for ten years then decides to be an architect? What the hell’s that, I destroy, I build, the whole God thing?”

“Or a stab at atonement.”