I was going to get an honest answer — or at least an honest reaction — from her, it made sense to get her back on the spot where the rape either happened or didn’t happen.”
“And if she says what you want her to say… then what?”
“I want my father’s name cleared forever. I want Marilyn’s voice on tape. I need to be wired.”
“You can record it, but I want you to understand that it’s not something you could ever use in court against her. The only way to do this legally would be to work with law enforcement.”
“I’m not looking for something I can use in a courtroom. This is for me and my family. I want my mother to hear it.”
“So do I,” said Norm. “Let me call my investigator. He’ll fit you up, no problem.” He rose and stepped toward the telephone on the kitchen counter.
“I want a bulletproof vest, too. Just in case. And I need to borrow your gun.”
Norm held the phone, poised to dial. “Marilyn Gaslow is not going to shoot you.”
“No. But I’ve invited someone else to the meeting besides Marilyn. Someone a little less predictable. Someone who says she can return my father’s gun to me.”
Norm hung up the phone and returned to the table. “Let’s talk about this.”
“Yeah,” said Ryan, “let’s talk.”
61
They returned to the Clover Leaf Apartments after ten o’clock. Gram went inside to turn down Taylor’s bed while Amy went up to Mrs. Bentley’s to pick her up. Rather than take her impressionable daughter to the old house, Amy had left her with their usual sitter.
Amy knocked once. The door opened. Mrs. Bentley was standing in the doorway. Marilyn Gaslow was standing right behind her, flashing a look that bordered on terror.
“Marilyn?” she said. “What are you doing here?”
“I stopped by your apartment, but no one was there. Your neighbor said to check with Mrs. Bentley.”
“Is Taylor okay?”
Mrs. Bentley answered. “She’s fine. Asleep since nine o’clock.”
Marilyn said, “I have to talk to you. In private.”
Amy was confused but curious. She got Mrs. Bentley to watch Taylor for a while longer, then stepped into the hall with Marilyn.
“What’s this all about?”
Marilyn glanced over her shoulder, almost paranoid. “Can we talk someplace private?”
“My apartment’s right upstairs.”
“I mean totally private. Not even your grandmother.”
The tone worried Amy. She led Marilyn down the hall to the laundry room, dug her key from her purse, and opened the door. “Nobody comes in here after ten o’clock. It closes then.”
She pushed the metal door open and stepped inside. Marilyn followed. A bare fluorescent light made the tiny room too bright. The walls were yellow-painted cinder block, no windows. Six white washing machines lined one side. Stacked dryers lined another. A few mateless socks lay scattered on the linoleum floor. Amy closed the door and locked it. An empty chair waited by the soda machine, but neither one took it. They went to the folding table in the center of the room and stood at opposite ends, facing each other.
“Okay,” said Amy. “Now tell me. What’s going on?”
Marilyn struggled for words, struggled to look at Amy. “I haven’t been honest with you.”
“No kidding.”
“I wish there was some unselfish explanation for my dishonesty. I’d like to be able to tell you it was for your own good.”
“Please. I’ve heard that one enough for one lifetime.”
Marilyn nodded, knowing the old story. “That always sounds so hollow, doesn’t it? Rarely is it ever for the benefit of anyone but the person who is being dishonest. But I was able to fool myself for years. I told myself it was for your own safety that I didn’t tell you the truth. Only tonight did I admit to myself that all the deception was for my benefit — for the good of my career. It took something pretty drastic to get me to realize that.”
“What?”
“I realized that unless you know the truth, you are going to get yourself killed.” She looked away, then back. “Just like your mother.”
Amy went cold. “My mother was murdered, wasn’t she.”
“I don’t know.”
“Stop lying! Ryan Duffy showed me Mom’s letter. I know the rape never happened.”
“That’s not what it says. It says Frank Duffy didn’t rape me.”
Her voice lowered, but the tone was just as bitter. “What’s the difference?”
“I was raped.”
A tense silence fell between them. “By who?”
She paused, then said, “Joe.”
“You married the man who raped you?”
“I didn’t know it was him. I thought it was Frank.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“Listen to me, please. It’s not as ridiculous as it sounds.” She quickly recounted the drive to Cheesman Dam forty-six years ago, the drinking that led to her passing out. “The next thing I knew, I was in the police station. My parents were there. A counselor was there. I had been raped. Joe denied ever laying a hand me. He made a real scene of it, accusing Frank of raping me when he drove me home. He even punched Frank in the face.”
“And they believed Joe?”
“Frank ran with the rough crowd in high school. Never did anything major, but enough to make the police think he was capable of rape. Joe was the perfect kid from the perfect family.”
“Couldn’t they do a blood test from the semen?”
“They were both O-positive. Something like forty percent of the population is O-positive. And of course this was decades before they started doing DNA testing.”
“So Frank got charged.”
“And convicted.”
“How did you find out the truth? What is the truth?”
“The truth is, Joe raped me after I passed out. Before any of us ever left Cheesman Dam. Before I got sick.”
Amy stepped away from the table, taking it all in. “When did you find all this out?”
“Joe finally told me. Years after we were married.”
“He just confessed?”
“No. Joe is one of those even-tempered gentlemen who blow a gasket every now and then. He could get pretty rough, especially if he drank. One time I actually had to hit him to keep him off me. He came back and said something like, ‘I’ll rape you again, bitch.’ It was the again that hung him. I forced it out of him.”
“What did you do?”
“I wanted to tell Frank Duffy how sorry I was. But if I ever told anyone, Joe swore he’d say our sex was consensual and that it was my idea to put the blame on Frank Duffy, just to save my reputation.”
“But… you told my mother.”
“Yes. I had to.”
“I don’t understand.”
Marilyn tried to step closer, but Amy kept her distance. Marilyn said, “It was the same night your mother told me she had cancer. She was worried about you. She asked me to be your guardian.”
Amy was confused, anguished. “What did you say?”
“I was torn. I wanted to. I would have done anything for Debby and you.”
