Skin Deep

“There was only half a bottle of Pinot Gris found.”

“Maybe it was three. I don’t remember.”

“Did she drink the white wine also?”

He thought for a moment. “I think she had red.”

“And how many did she have?”

“I don’t recall. Maybe two.”

“Good. I like how it’s coming back to you. Then you began to make out on the couch, but that wasn’t very comfortable so you went into the bedroom.”

“No, we didn’t go into the bedroom.”

“Did you have sex?”

“No.”

“You mean you didn’t even get a kiss for all you did?”

Pendergast glared at Neil for a long moment. “Yeah, I guess.”

“You mean you made out.”

“A little.”

“A little? Why didn’t you go all the way? You had that gorgeous woman with the flaming red hair and hot bod. Mean you couldn’t get it up?”

“We didn’t have any condoms.”

“Ah, so you would have, but you didn’t want to take the chance, right?”

Pendergast nodded.

“Because she was a stripper.”

“Yeah.”

“But she wanted to have sex.”

“Yes.”

Neil pinched the bridge of his nose as if trying to squeeze back the possibilities. “It’s all coming back.” Neil seemed crazed all of a sudden. “Did you initiate it or did she?”

“I don’t remember.”

“Then maybe I can help you. You began to make a lot of kissy-face and you nuzzled your face into that thick red hair and stroked her breasts, which fired her up and she began to rub your bulge, right?” Neil’s face was bright red.

“I want to go.”

“You’re not going anywhere. You’re going to tell me what you did.”

“I-I’m tired. I don’t remember.”

“Sure, you’re tired and forgot stuff. I wasn’t there or anything, but let me guess. She then got up and went into her little routine, peeled off her dress like she was at the pole. Stripped down to her bra and thong and fancy black stockings that made your eyeballs smoke, right?”

Pendergast shook his head, too afraid to leave with Neil pacing like a leopard, narrating.

“Then she peeled off her stockings one by one and dangled them at you, right?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “And you know what I think?

I think you killed her but it wasn’t your fault. Really. You know why? Because she made you do it. I think it was really an accident.”

“No,” Pendergast pleaded.

“Yes. And it’s because she wanted to make you bad.” He snapped up a photo of her wearing only black stockings. “The thing is, Earl, Terry Farina was nothing but a little tramp. She preyed on men like you and me for money. And that’s what it was all about, money. You and a thousand other guys got suckered into laying down good money to watch her strip. But she went too far and tried to recruit you, told you you could have the real thing, right? I mean look at her.” And he spread the photos while Pendergast gaped without expression.

“I know what you like: pretty women, clean women. What normal guy doesn’t? But not the scullery maid even if she’s got gorgeous red hair. You were looking for Ms. Right, not her, because she was bad.” Neil nudged his shoulder. “Right?”

Pendergast nodded.

“You bet. She was dirty and she tried to make you dirty, and you got mad. And you know what? Maybe she got what she deserved.”

Pendergast grunted.

“Thing is, women like that get you to drop your defenses, make you act against your better judgment—create illusions and denial. It happens to me. Happens to everybody. Do something dumb and you repress it from your memory. It’s perfectly human. You’re a college professor, I needn’t tell you.”

Pendergast nodded weakly, not knowing where Neil was going.

“And that’s what happened. She was a licensed exhibitionist, probably turned tricks on the side. We’re talking your basic whore who played on men’s weaknesses, and she lured you into the bedroom.”

Up to this point, Neil had been pacing in front of Pendergast. But he circled behind him. “And there she was lying naked on the bed humping the air, teasing and taunting you. Then something went wrong. Maybe she said something that rubbed you wrong—an insult about your manhood. You were a little high from the wine and meds and she just wouldn’t let up, maybe riding your ass, playing the desperate whore. Then before you knew it, something snapped.” With that Neil produced a black stocking from his back pocket and twisted it around Pendergast’s neck.

For an instant Steve thought Neil would strangle him to death. But just as quickly he let go and pressed his face to Pendergast, who was gasping and massaging his throat. “That’s what you did. You blanked out and strangled her with that black stocking.”

“N-n-no.” He cowered from Neil, rubbing his neck.

“Yes. Yes. Yes.” And he grabbed Pendergast by his shirt and lifted him into the air. “You fucking little worm. You killed her because she was bad and wanted to make you bad.”

Pendergast shook his head. “No.”

“Fuck no!” And Neil stormed out of the room. A minute later he returned with two officers. “You’re under arrest. Take him away.”

“For what?”

“For the murder of Terry Farina. Read him his Miranda and get him the fuck out of here.”

The video came to an abrupt end.

Steve stared at the blank screen for several seconds as a rat uncurled in his gut.

36

It was after seven. The detective shifts were changing and the office was empty but for a couple of sergeants. In his office, Reardon was just packing his briefcase to leave for the weekend when Steve walked in.

“You look like hell.”

“That’s the good news.”

Reardon’s eyebrows shot up. “What’s the problem?”

We’re back to door one. And I don’t want to open it.

“You said you saw the Pendergast video.”

“Some of it, why?”

“You might want to take a closer look because I think we’ve got a problem.”

“Like what?”

“Like maybe he shouldn’t be in lockup.”