Binding Ties

I'd had enough of that and said, 'You better watch it, old man,' but he just laughed at me. So I told him. Showed him.'

'Showed him?'

'The fingers. In the jars? I had four, I think, when I told him.'

'So he knew.'

'He knew, all right.'

'And he and your attorney made arrangements to have you put away, where the law couldn't touch you.'

'Yeah. See, the old man thought you were getting too close. That you were going to catch me. He said you were a really good, smart detective, that you were from back east where cops were tough. And that's one thing I agree with him on-you're good. So is that guy Grissom.'

'Thanks. Was your father…upset with you, for what CASt did?'

Dayton closed his eyes. 'He knew what I was doing, I think he figured out why I was doing it, but the only thing he gave a damn about was the 'potential scandal.' You know-the shame? So, he put me in that…that hellhole till the heat blew over.'

'Then he took you out again, quietly.'

Rocking gently now, Dayton said, 'Yes. It was voluntary committal, so that wasn't hard.'

'Did anyone besides the doctors know you were getting day and weekend passes?'

Dayton thought about it. 'Deams did, for sure; I mean, he helped the old man get me out-the doctors were against it.'

'But they didn't know about your hobby?'

'Please don't demean what I do by calling it a hobby, Captain. It's a statement, and a kind of… catharsis.'

'Sorry, Jerry.'

'No, the doctors didn't know I was CASt. I did tell them about what my daddy did to me, but I don't think they believed me. Who would you believe? One of the biggest men in town, or his sick- in-the-head kid? Anyway, they just thought I was too ill to be outside yet-you know, until they had a better handle on what was wrong with me.'

Brass was putting certain disturbing pieces together. 'And of course your father wanted you out as soon as possible, because he didn't want the doctors to know the reason behind your illness.'

Dayton finally opened his eyes. He had a slightly startled look. 'Is that why?'

Brass sighed. 'Jerry, I appreciate your frankness.'

'I've been straight with you, haven't I?'

'I would say so.'

'Have I earned the right to ask you a question, Captain?'

'Okay.'

'Were you the one?'

'The one…what?'

'I mean, you're smart. Really good. But I always had trouble believing you were the, you know…one.'

Brass sat up. 'I don't know, Jerry. Honestly.'

Dayton sighed. Smiled. 'Good. I wouldn't have liked that.'

'Jerry, please explain what you're talking about.'

Rubbing a wrist where the cuffs were chaffing, Dayton said, 'Some cop knew about me. I mean, must have known, because the old man? For years he bitched about having to contribute to what he called 'the widows and orphans fund.' '

Brass's belly tightened. 'What did you think that meant?'

Dayton shrugged. 'Somebody, one of you people, figured out I was CASt, hell, years ago…and the old man paid that person off. For years I thought it was you, Captain. And I'm glad it wasn't.'

Brass felt something dying, deep inside.

'Anything else I can tell you, Captain?'

'Why did you come back? And kill Perry Bell?'

'You know why. Somebody was stealing something very precious to me-my identity. My…like Superman! Secret identity.'

'Why choose Perry?'

'Well…I'm not a smart detective like you. I work the other side of the fence, I guess. But I thought I had it figured out. I thought Perry was the copycat.'

'But he wasn't.'

'My bad,' Dayton said. 'Want to hear about it?'

Brass wanted to say no, but said, 'Yes.'

'I can't feel too terrible about the mistake,' Dayton said. 'After all, Perry Bell was a fat old drunk with no pride. What little he had in life, I gave him…because he picked up the fame I spilled, with that book of his. He didn't have the strength to do what I do.'

As CASt emerged and Jerry Dayton receded, the killer sat straighter, his eyes bright, and for the first time since entering this interview room, Brass felt he was facing the blood-streaked fiend who had stabbed him.

'He begged for his life, of course,' CASt said, voice cold, detached. 'Said he was innocent, someone else must have done it. Funny thing is, he knew who the copycat was, but the damn drunk didn't even know that he knew.'

'I'm not sure I understand.'

'Well, he didn't suggest that the copycat might be Brower, until I helped him…focus.'

'How did you do that?'

'How do you think? Cut his finger off. It's what I do.'

'…Why did you continue, Jerry-when you knew Bell wasn't the copycat?'

'Captain, would you leave a job half-done? I hated Bell for the things he said about me in his trashy book. He made it sound like I was out of my mind.'

'The book helped make you famous.'

'True. And perhaps that's why I took it so easy on him…. You found a key card at a murder site, didn't you?'

This CASt introduced as blandly as if asking the detective to pass the salt.

'Yes,' Brass said.

'Bell's, of course. It wasn't until he and I were discussing my problem that he realized that Brower must have been the one who'd taken it.'

Brower had been Bell's assistant; the card would have been easy enough for him to swipe.

'Why did you suspect Bell, and not his collaborator, Paquette? He cowrote CASt Fear, after all.'

CASt shook his head. 'Bell was out stirring things up with speaking gigs and trying to peddle that old crap book. Paquette was successful, he'd moved on. Anyway, I always suspected my father had paid him off, too, like that cop.'

'Your father never mentioned who it was, this cop.'

'No. But we both know, don't we, Captain?'

Brass said nothing.

CASt slumped in the chair and became Jerome Dayton. He looked exhausted.

Brass could hardly blame him, feeling drained himself.

'I fill in everything you need?' Dayton asked.

'You did fine, Jerry.'

'You're not disappointed?'

'No. I may want to talk again. There's a lot of ground to cover, so many old cases.'

'No problem. I like talking to you.'

Brass said, 'Good. I'm glad.'

'You know what I really like about you, Captain?'