“That’s why what?” prodded Ray.
“A little while after Shevlin’s confrontation with Tom, Malcolm came storming in, demanding that I get a court order prohibiting Tom from stepping on colony property.”
“And did you?”
“I started the process, called our attorney, and asked what steps needed to be taken.”
“Did you authorize them to go forward?”
“Actually, no. The summer is almost over. I talked to Tom’s mother and tried to impress on her that it was important for Tom to stay away, at least for the rest of the season. You have to understand, Sheriff. Malcolm made a big brouhaha, but most times by the next day he was onto something else. Over the winter lots of things could change. Perhaps Tom won’t be around next summer. My hope was that the problem would go away.”
Ray looked over at Sue and then back at Grubbs. “We need to question this Tom. If he was in the area of the theatre, he might have seen the person who turned off the power.”
“Oh, Sheriff, I assure you that anything he might tell you would be absolutely untrustworthy. He lives in his own fantasy world. He would be sending you in the wrong direction and wasting your time. Besides, he’s very wary of males, especially police officers. In the past they are the people who have taken him to the hospital when he’s had his meltdowns. If he sees you coming, he’ll probably will do a runner and disappear into the woods and only God knows what will happen then.”
“Mr. Grubbs, we have to talk with this individual. As you know, someone pulled the main disconnect, giving the perpetrator several minutes of complete darkness. If this Tom person was circulating around the exterior of the building, maybe he saw the person who caused things to go dark.”
“He’s not going to tell you anything, but if you insist, maybe your colleague here can talk to Tom. Like I said, he responds better to women then men.”
Ray looked over at Sue, then answered, “I’m good with that. Will you go with her and do the introductions. Then she needs to talk to Tom in private. Will that work?”
“Yes, and I’ll drive her in my car. Don’t want to spook him with a police car.”
32
Richard Grubbs opened the passenger-side door of his sagging Volvo for Sue Lawrence. She settled on the seat cushion—torn vinyl exposing crumbling foam rubber—and peered out through the windshield at the dull, oxidized finish on the hood. The interior smelled of gasoline, mildew, and petroleum-based grime.
“Just got a 400 thousand mile badge from the company,” bragged Grubbs after he dropped into the driver’s seat. “Sure hoping this baby will make a half a million.”
Sue sent a weak smile his way. “How far are we going?”
“Just a few blocks. We probably should have walked. I’ll go in and introduce you to Tom and his mother. Then I’ll disappear. If you need me, I’ll be here reading a book. If Tom has a meltdown, come and get me. I’m good at talking him down.”
Grubbs parked near the back of the cottage next to a late model Chrysler van, and they walked to the rear entrance. His gentle rap brought an almost instantaneous response.
Pushing the screen door open, a sixtyish woman stepped out, gave Grubbs a quick hug, and then held Sue in a long, suspicious gaze.
“What’s going on, Grubby. Some sort of problem involving Thomas?”
“Nothing of the sort. Sergeant Sue Lawrence, here, is with the Cedar County Sheriffs Department. She’s investigating the death of Malcolm Wudbine. Several witnesses saw Tom near the auditorium Saturday evening.”
“He’s not suspected of….”
“No,” said Grubbs, reassuringly. “But if Tom was in the area at the time of the crime, they are wondering what he might have witnessed outside the Assembly Hall. Sergeant Lawrence would like to have a conversation with Tom.”
“He’s out on the beach smoking. He’s not allowed to smoke in the house. We have this agreement about where he can smoke. I’ll walk you out there, but,” she looked toward Grubbs, “have you explained Tom’s fear of the police?”
“Alice, yes. And I’ve made it clear to both the sheriff and Sue that this questioning might have unexpected consequences. They were most insistent.”
Sue followed, letting them lead the way across a chamomile lawn, and onto a path through the dune grass to the shore. She held back, giving Grubbs time to explain to Tom the situation before she entered the circle.
“I don’t want to talk to her. Why is she here?”
“Tom, I just told you. She only needs a few minutes of your time. Will you please cooperate?”
“Do what Grubby says,” counseled his mother. “You know he’s always been your friend.”
Tom looked over at Sue, then back at Grubbs and his mother. “Okay, but I’ve got important things to do. She can have five minutes.”
“Can we sit over there?” asked Sue, pointing to weathered picnic table.
Tom stood up, brushed the sand off the back of his jeans, and ensconced himself on one side of the table.
“We’ll leave you now,” said Grubbs. “I’ll wait in the car.”
“What do you want?” asked Tom, lighting a cigarette.
“Saturday night, the night of the play, were you near the auditorium?”
“That was awhile ago, I don’t know.”
“People saw you there, you had a ticket to the play.”
Tom looked thoughtful, “Ticket?” Then he smiled with delight. “It was a wonderful ticket, a piece of art. But those crazy little bitches, they wouldn’t let me in. I went to one door and then the other. They laughed at me. I don’t like that. I hate it when people laugh at me.”
“When you couldn’t get into the theater, what then?”
“I think I watched through a window, they were open. I could hear what was happening until it started to rain and thunder.”
“Then what did you do?”
“Well, I don’t know. I think I went down to the picnic area. It’s covered. Yes, that’s what I did. The picnic area.”
“Could you see the Assembly Hall from there?”
“Lady, it was raining so hard I couldn’t see anything. And then I almost got electrocuted. Boom, crash. I could smell sulfur. I knew the devil was lurking.”
“Were there any lights on in the back of the auditorium?” asked Sue.
“There’s one, you know, the kind that turns on when it gets dark. It’s on the wall above some equipment stuff. It’s always on, summer and winter.”
“Was it on Saturday night?”
“Probably, till everything went out.”
Tom tossed away the cigarette with his left hand.
“Do you remember seeing anyone on Saturday?”
He pulled another cigarette from a crumpled pack, removing the filter and flicking it with the index finger and thumb of his left hand toward the beach. He fumbled with the lighter, his hand unsteady, finally igniting the loose strands of tobacco that extended beyond the paper.
“Like I was telling you. There was someone out there. I remember wondering why they were in the rain. I thought maybe the devil. Maybe a witch.” He looked at Sue, his eyes wide, his grin displaying tobacco-stained teeth.
“Man, woman?”
“It was…it was…a woman.”
“Are you sure?”
“I know the difference…I gotta take this call.” He fished a phone-like object from his pocket, gave Sue a quick glance, and said, “I had it on vibrate so we wouldn’t be disturbed.” Tom brought the object to his ear. “Hello. Garr. Hey dude, what’s happening? How’s the weather?”
He waited for the answer, then responded, “Hot. Hey, I’m not surprised, man. You were into some pretty deep shit…What am I doing? I’m talking to some police lady.”
Tom listened for awhile, nodding his head, his eyes focused on Sue.
“Fuckers! Shot up the place! RPGs and firebombs! I know, get a lawyer and tell them to stay the fuck away! I’m on the case, dude. I won’t tell them shit.”
Tom stood, as he dropped the phone back into his pocket, he leaned over the table, his face only a few inches from Sue’s. “Garr said you were the one. You were shooting at him. You blew his place up. You sent him across the river Styx. Bitch!” His final word was accompanied by a spray of spittle.