norm.
Sitting there in the living room at the governor’s mansion, I realized that was the case with Josh Deeson. He had been different, and the so-called normal people around him couldn’t or wouldn’t tolerate that. Their response to his being different had been to set out on a single-minded campaign to destroy him, and it had worked. He had finally given way under the pressure. The problem with suicide is that there’s never a possibility of bringing someone to “justice.” There is no justice.
Even though I didn’t know the identity of the people who had driven Josh to kill himself, I did know something about them. In their worldview, they’re the “nice” people-the “good” guys. There’s nothing those turkeys hate worse than having their phony good-guy masks ripped away, and that’s what I was determined to do-to unmask them and expose their culpability to the world.
I figured I owed one poor dead kid that much. So did the universe.
Chapter 21
We spent the next hour talking with Zoe Longmire, asking her for information about the kids from Olympia Prep who were connected to Janie’s House. I started the interview thinking that Zoe might have been responsible for the destructive texting campaign against Josh. In the end, I came away doubting Zoe had been an active participant, but still I couldn’t shake the suspicion that she knew more than she was saying about Josh’s situation.
All during the interview, we let her believe that we were there primarily because we were looking into the causes behind Josh’s suicide. For the time being we left Rachel Camber’s murder off the table, our strategy being that Zoe would be more forthcoming without the red flag of a related murder investigation. We had mentioned Rachel’s death to Meribeth Duncan and Greg Alexander, so word about what had happened was probably spreading through the Janie’s House community, but so far nothing had hit the media.
Generally speaking, stories about murdered runaways from small towns in western Washington aren’t thought to have “legs.” As a consequence they don’t get much media coverage. However, once some enterprising reporter made the connection between Josh’s suicide (which was being covered in a very respectful fashion) and Rachel’s death, it would take very little effort for Janie’s House to be embroiled in the ensuing scandal.
It was also possible that the whole Janie’s House enterprise might come to an end as a result. Their funding would dry up. Well-heeled contributors don’t like having their names linked to places with problems. And once it started looking like having local students volunteering to help needy kids wasn’t such a good idea, the schools around Olympia would withdraw their support as well.
As we conducted the interview with Zoe Longmire, it was clear that she was missing several other crucial pieces of the puzzle. Apparently Marsha Longmire and Gerry Willis hadn’t breathed a word to anyone, and most especially to their daughters, about the existence of that ugly video clip. We didn’t show it to her either. What we mostly did was give Zoe a chance to talk, to unburden herself to someone other than her grieving parents. Talking about her participation in Janie’s House gave her something to discuss that wasn’t Josh’s suicide. As she spoke, I remembered Greg Alexander’s remark about her blending in with the other kids and not lording it over anyone because she was the governor’s daughter.
“We should probably interview your sister, too,” Mel said when Zoe finally started to run out of things to say. “She’s not here now, is she?”
There was the slightest moment of hesitation before Zoe shook her head.
“Do you know when she’ll be home?”
“She’s staying at Dad’s place right now,” Zoe said. “Gerry’s sister is flying in from Michigan tonight, and she’ll be staying in Gizzy’s room. There are extra rooms on the third floor, but no one wants to stay there.”
We didn’t have to ask where Zoe’s father’s house might be because Ross Connors had already supplied us with a physical address for the governor’s former husband and his new wife.
Mel and I were preparing to leave when Marsha and Gerry showed up.
“We just came from the mortuary,” Marsha said. “The funeral will be Friday, the day after tomorrow.”
I was a little surprised to hear that the body had already been released to a funeral home. Usually in a case like this there are several days between the death and the time of release. I guess with the governor’s family involved, some effort had been made to streamline the process. Nevertheless, the strain of visiting the mortuary and making final arrangements had taken its toll on Josh’s grandfather. Gerry Willis looked like he needed to lie down in the worst way. Marsha asked Zoe to help him to his room. When they had left the room, Marsha turned on us.
“What are you doing here?” she demanded angrily. “They’ve done the autopsy. Josh’s death has been ruled a suicide. What more do you need to know?”
What a difference a day makes. Whatever welcome mat Marsha Longmire had put out for us a day earlier had evidently been rescinded.
My mother used to talk about the importance of telling the “unvarnished truth.” As a little kid that was something I wondered about. If you were going to paint the truth, how would you do it and what kind of brushes would you use? Now I know the best way to varnish truth is to cover whatever’s in question with a bright and shiny coat of pure BS.
“It has come to our attention that Josh was the target of numerous ugly text messages-harassing text messages. It’s possible those had something to do with Josh’s suicide, and we thought Zoe might have heard something about them.”
“Did she?” Marsha asked.
“No,” I answered. “Zoe had no idea about that.”
A part of me wondered if that was completely true. I had a feeling in my gut that Zoe knew more than she was saying, but right then we didn’t dare bring on the kind of tough questioning that would have given us a straight answer. That was the truth, but it wasn’t the whole truth, and it was most definitely varnished. It was smooth enough to explain our presence and our need to talk to Zoe. It was even smooth enough to get us out of the house.
As we were leaving, Zoe came back into the room. We thanked her for her help, with Marsha hanging on our every word.
“Whew,” Mel said, once we were back in the Mercedes. “There’s been a change in the weather as far as Marsha is concerned.”
“I noticed,” I said. “So what say we go have a nice little chat with Gizzy before her mother has a chance to shut us down?”
“We were right not to mention the interview possibility to Marsha,” Mel said. “Better to beg forgiveness later than to be told no in advance.”
I got out my wallet and handed Mel the address Ross Connors had given me for Sid Longmire, the governor’s ex. While I started the engine and fastened my seat belt, Mel fed the address information into the GPS. Eventually the GPS told us that our route was being calculated.
“What kind of a name is Gizzy?” I asked.
“It’s probably what her little sister called her, or a babysitter. On the face of it, Giselle isn’t such a bad name, and neither is Melissa. But the whole time I was growing up, kids called me Melly instead of Mel or Melissa. That’s what the girls called me. The boys generally called me Smelly Melly.”
“Jerks,” I said.
“Yes,” she agreed. “Most of them were. I’d be willing to bet that Giselle hates the name Gizzy as much as I hated Melly.”
The address was off Hawk’s Prairie Road, north of Olympia. We drifted into a GPS-punctuated silence.
“I think Zoe knew more than she was willing to say about the texting,” Mel said thoughtfully.
“I agree. The comments show too much knowledge about Josh’s history for a passing acquaintance. The kid was a loner. There’s no way he’d go around school talking up the fact that his mother died of an overdose or that he ended up in foster care. And who else besides Zoe or Gizzy would have a vested interest in telling him to go back where he came from?”
