Read Online Suspicion of Madness by Barbara Parker - Free Book Online
Authors: Barbara Parker
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later, not now. Sometime today I'll ask Joan Sinclair to confirm where you were the night Sandra died. Then I'll take her to see Detective Baylor. Should I expect any problems?"
"Problems?"
"Will she confirm you were with her?"
"I guess so."
This was like talking to an empty bed. He said, "Is Joan Sinclair going to meow like a cat at the police station?"
Billy finally looked at him. He had his mother's brown eyes. "What?"
"I've heard she's eccentric. Crazy. Over the edge."
"Bullshit. Joan's not like other people. She does what she wants to. That doesn't make her crazy."
"I'm glad to hear it."
"Do you think I'm crazy?" It was a challenge, not a question.
"If you try to hang yourself again, I might."
That failed to arouse a smile. "Yeah, I did that because the gun wasn't loaded."
"What gun?"
"Martin's. It wasn't loaded."
"You had a gun?" Anthony doubted the truth of this. "Where is it now?"
"Still there, I guess."
"On the dock?"
Billy frowned, concentrating. "That's weird. I just remembered... shooting at the dogs. We don't have dogs."
"Are you sure you had a gun?"
He hesitated. "No. I'm not sure."
"We'll ask your stepfather if it's missing."
Billy tugged at the cervical collar, ripping loose the Velcro tabs, wincing as he pulled it from around his neck. A line of bruises purpled his skin. He tossed the collar to the chair by his bed. "I didn't kill Sandra. I don't care what I allegedly said to the cops. We were friends."
"Good friends?"
"I guess."
"She bought liquor for you? Beer?"
Billy looked at him. "Yes. So?"
"Anything else?"
"Heroin, crack, and Roofies. Jesus, man. No, nothing else."
Anthony let it go for now. "Did you ever have sex with her?"
Seconds ticked by. Billy noticed his bandaged hand and held it in front of his face to see it better. He picked at the tape holding the gauze. His hands were masculine but small, with bony wrists.
"May I take that as a yes?"
"Yeah. We did."
"A lot?"
"Not a lot to me. To you maybe. But she started going out with this guy."
"Does this guy have a name?"
The square of gauze came up, attached on one side. His palm showed a laceration, some stitches, the bright orange of antiseptic. "Yeow. How'd I do this?"
"Who was Sandra's boyfriend?"
Billy pressed the tape back into place and let his arm fall off his chest. "She wouldn't tell me."
"Did you fight about it?"
"It wasn't a fight."
"When did you and she discuss it? Do you remember? How many days before she died? And where did this discussion take place?"
He stared out the window. "We were at Holiday Isle, in the parking lot. It was on Tuesday night. She died on Thursday."
"Did anyone see you and Sandra in the parking lot?"
"Some girl named Penny. Sandra got in her car and left."
"Penny what?"
"I don't know."
The police would soon have the name. Believing they had a confession, they would reinterview witnesses and ask specifically about Billy Fadden. "Did you hit her? Answer me. I don't want to find out from the cops."
"It was a slap. That's all. It didn't hurt her, she just got mad. When she came to work the next day, I apologized. She's like, okay, it's okay, forget it. I didn't kill her. I didn't." A tear trailed down his cheek, and Billy slowly lifted his hand and wiped it away. Whatever Dr. Vogelhut had given him was having an effect.
"You left the island with her the day she was killed, didn't you?"
"Yeah, we took the shuttle to the marina. She got in her car and left. Then I got in my mom's car... and did some errands and things."
"Did you see Sandra again that night?"
"No."
"And you arrived home about eight o'clock?"
"Yeah." Billy swallowed as if to ease a pain in his throat. "I didn't kill her. I wouldn't do that. I wouldn't. You believe me, don't you?"
Anthony remembered what the detective had told him. How she had died. The unspeakable violence of it.
Billy's eyes swam up to focus on Anthony's face. "It wasn't me. I swear."
He put a hand on Billy's shoulder. "It wasn't you."
"Problems?"
"Will she confirm you were with her?"
"I guess so."
This was like talking to an empty bed. He said, "Is Joan Sinclair going to meow like a cat at the police station?"
Billy finally looked at him. He had his mother's brown eyes. "What?"
"I've heard she's eccentric. Crazy. Over the edge."
"Bullshit. Joan's not like other people. She does what she wants to. That doesn't make her crazy."
"I'm glad to hear it."
"Do you think I'm crazy?" It was a challenge, not a question.
"If you try to hang yourself again, I might."
That failed to arouse a smile. "Yeah, I did that because the gun wasn't loaded."
"What gun?"
"Martin's. It wasn't loaded."
"You had a gun?" Anthony doubted the truth of this. "Where is it now?"
"Still there, I guess."
"On the dock?"
Billy frowned, concentrating. "That's weird. I just remembered... shooting at the dogs. We don't have dogs."
"Are you sure you had a gun?"
He hesitated. "No. I'm not sure."
"We'll ask your stepfather if it's missing."
Billy tugged at the cervical collar, ripping loose the Velcro tabs, wincing as he pulled it from around his neck. A line of bruises purpled his skin. He tossed the collar to the chair by his bed. "I didn't kill Sandra. I don't care what I allegedly said to the cops. We were friends."
"Good friends?"
"I guess."
"She bought liquor for you? Beer?"
Billy looked at him. "Yes. So?"
"Anything else?"
"Heroin, crack, and Roofies. Jesus, man. No, nothing else."
Anthony let it go for now. "Did you ever have sex with her?"
Seconds ticked by. Billy noticed his bandaged hand and held it in front of his face to see it better. He picked at the tape holding the gauze. His hands were masculine but small, with bony wrists.
"May I take that as a yes?"
"Yeah. We did."
"A lot?"
"Not a lot to me. To you maybe. But she started going out with this guy."
"Does this guy have a name?"
The square of gauze came up, attached on one side. His palm showed a laceration, some stitches, the bright orange of antiseptic. "Yeow. How'd I do this?"
"Who was Sandra's boyfriend?"
Billy pressed the tape back into place and let his arm fall off his chest. "She wouldn't tell me."
"Did you fight about it?"
"It wasn't a fight."
"When did you and she discuss it? Do you remember? How many days before she died? And where did this discussion take place?"
He stared out the window. "We were at Holiday Isle, in the parking lot. It was on Tuesday night. She died on Thursday."
"Did anyone see you and Sandra in the parking lot?"
"Some girl named Penny. Sandra got in her car and left."
"Penny what?"
"I don't know."
The police would soon have the name. Believing they had a confession, they would reinterview witnesses and ask specifically about Billy Fadden. "Did you hit her? Answer me. I don't want to find out from the cops."
"It was a slap. That's all. It didn't hurt her, she just got mad. When she came to work the next day, I apologized. She's like, okay, it's okay, forget it. I didn't kill her. I didn't." A tear trailed down his cheek, and Billy slowly lifted his hand and wiped it away. Whatever Dr. Vogelhut had given him was having an effect.
"You left the island with her the day she was killed, didn't you?"
"Yeah, we took the shuttle to the marina. She got in her car and left. Then I got in my mom's car... and did some errands and things."
"Did you see Sandra again that night?"
"No."
"And you arrived home about eight o'clock?"
"Yeah." Billy swallowed as if to ease a pain in his throat. "I didn't kill her. I wouldn't do that. I wouldn't. You believe me, don't you?"
Anthony remembered what the detective had told him. How she had died. The unspeakable violence of it.
Billy's eyes swam up to focus on Anthony's face. "It wasn't me. I swear."
He put a hand on Billy's shoulder. "It wasn't you."
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