Obsession

him.”

CHAPTER 32

Kyle Bedard sat on the library floor, ringed by piles of loose paper. Laptop at his fingertips, cell phone in hand.

He put the phone away. “Did Dad regale you with his sexual triumphs?”

I said, “He said to tell you he loves you.”

“He gets that way when he drinks.”

“Affectionate?”

“Mawkish.”

“He drink often?”

“More than often.”

Milo settled on a Chippendale chair too puny for his bulk. I got down beside Kyle and pointed to his phone. “Able to reach her?”

He started to say, “Who?” Cut it off before the vowel sound. “She’s okay.”

“Back home?”

“She just got in.”

“Late-night study group,” I said.

He flinched. “What do you need from me?”

I said, “It’s okay to care about her.”

He said, “I don’t hear a question in there.”

“How about this: What bothers you about Peterson Whitbread?”

“I haven’t seen him in-since I was a kid.”

“I don’t hear an answer in there.”

His left index finger tickled the keyboard of his laptop. The Einstein screensaver dissolved to an engraved portrait of a long-haired, mustachioed man. Frank Zappa look-alike.

I said, “Descartes. Smart guy but wrong about a few things.”

“Such as?”

“The split between emotion and reason.”

“Is that supposed to mean something to me?”

“It means you can have your feelings and still be smart. We know your father took you along when he visited Mary Whitbread. You hung out with Peterson Whitbread. He did something that bothered you. Enough for you to ask to stop going. Now you’re worried Peterson had something to do with your uncle Lester’s murder. But what really scares you is he could’ve been involved in what bothered Patty Bigelow.”

Tap tap tap. Descartes gave way to Aristotle.

I said, “Your father’s convinced you’re a genius. Maybe you are. In the current context, being smart means quelling the instinct to mindlessly buck authority.”

Rapid eyeblink. “Why would I know anything about what bothered Patty Bigelow?”

“Because Tanya told you everything. Even though she’d been asked not to.”

“I wouldn’t hurt her. Ever.”

Milo grunted.

“You don’t believe me?”

“We might, son, if you cut the bullshit and answered our questions.”

“I don’t know anything. It’s all supposition.”

“Kind of like scientific research,” said Milo. “We can live with that.”

Kyle reached for a Styrofoam cup, looked inside, frowned, tossed it. Spying an unopened can of Fresca, he popped the top, watched liquid foam through the aperture and drip onto his papers.

We waited as he drank.

He said, “You’re convinced that what happened all those years ago is relevant?”

I said, “You’re not?”

Dipping a finger into the soda spill, he shaped an amoeba on the rug, played with the blob until it saturated the wool. “It started when I was nine. Dad and Mom were still married and we had a house a few blocks away from Grandfather’s on Muirfield, had just bought the place in Atherton. When Dad took me with him on his dates-it wasn’t just with Mary-I felt like a traitor to Mom. But I didn’t want to get him in trouble because he was the one who…shit, why am I meandering…right to the point: Yes, I asked to stop going because of Pete. He’s a sociopath, or whatever you call it nowadays. At first he made me feel he wanted to hang out. He was four years older. That made me feel uncharacteristically cool.”

Lowering his eyes. “It was also a distraction for what was going on in Mary’s bedroom.”

He passed the soda can from hand to hand. “At first we did normal things-shot hoops, tossed a football, watched TV. He was small for his age, not that much bigger than me, but he seemed a lot more experienced.”

“About?”

“Just a general attitude, he was cocky. But he never talked down to me or treated me like the social outcast I was. So I liked hanging with him. Then he eased into the other stuff. Started showing me naked girls he’d cut out of Penthouse and Hustler, he had piles under his bed. When I didn’t freak out, he began taking me into the garage where he kept his hard-core stuff. Not simple porn, this was over-the-top. Women gagged and tied up, bestiality, things I still find repellent. At that point, I was freaked out. Why I didn’t tell Dad, I don’t know. But I didn’t and Pete moved on to the next step. A toolbox he kept hidden behind some luggage. Inside were movie stills.”

Placing the soda can on the floor, he looked at Milo, then me. “Pictures from movies his mother had made. Piles of them. He wasn’t embarrassed, just the opposite. Put them right in my face and made gross comments. ‘Look how she takes it all in.’ ‘That’s what she’s doing to your dad, right now.’ I still didn’t want to let on that it bothered me.”

I said, “He was an older kid spending time with you.”

“I have no sibs, in school I wasn’t exactly Mr. Popular. I guess the pictures were also…arousing. Though what that means at nine, who knows?”

“It had to be confusing.”

“I used to go home feeling as if I’d been in a trance. Dad never noticed, after being with Mary he was always in a great mood. The next time we’d go she’d offer me milk and cookies, and I’d flash to her pictures, start feeling dizzy, sure I was giving something away. But no one noticed and the minute Pete and I were alone, out came the box and he’d start in again. Talking about his mother as if she were a piece of meat. What made it especially weird is she made it a point to be friendly to me. Big hug, milk and cookies, the works.”

“Maternal.”

“Like a TV mom-she looked like a TV mom. I’d see that and then minutes later I’d be watching her do three guys, then Pete licking his lips and rubbing himself. Looking back, it’s obvious he enjoyed shocking me. But I kept following him out to the garage.” Blinking. “One day he touched me while he showed me a picture. I jerked away and he laughed, said he was just kidding, he was no fag. Then he opened his own fly and started masturbating.”

He scratched his head hard. “I’ve never told anyone. Maybe if I’d spoken up, Pete could’ve gotten some help.”

I said, “From what I’ve heard about his mother, she couldn’t have been counted on.”

“I know, I know…Dad’s choice in women…but still…”

“It wasn’t your job to fix things, Kyle.”

“No?” He laughed. “So why are we talking about it now? Don’t bother answering, I get it…I guess my point is that whatever Pete’s done, he never had a chance.”

Milo said, “There are always choices.”

“Are there? I can’t even figure out my own calculations, let alone human nature.”