A Death in Canaan Read online

  You’re not sure, are you? Let’s go over this thing again. Maybe we can bring it out of your subconscious, then we can get this straightened out and see what we can salvage out of this mess. You don’t look like a violent person. Maybe, spur of the moment. Now, have you ever hit your mother in the past?

  P:

  Yes. Three months ago. It had something to do with fixing the car. I threw a flashlight. I didn’t mean to throw it hard. It was a metal flashlight and it caught her on the shin.

  K:

  Did you throw it deliberately?

  P:

  Yes. Spur of the moment. But I realized I had done it and apologized for it.

  K:

  This thing is so violent. Maybe you don’t want to remember.

  P:

  You’ve lost me now.

  K:

  The last time you hit your mother you hit her lightly. This time when you lost your temper it wasn’t just a little bit. She is now dead. Maybe you’re so ashamed of this thing …

  P:

  What about that question where you asked me about being ashamed?

  K:

  Not very much reaction. The big one is hurting her. I think this is possibly the whole thing here. It wasn’t a deliberate thing. Something happened between you and your mother, and one thing led to another, and someway, you accidentally hurt her seriously.

  P:

  But how?

  K:

  I don’t know, Peter. You were there; I wasn’t.

  P:

  I wouldn’t mind so much if they could prove I did it. But there’s a doubt in my mind. I know consciously I didn’t do it. Subconsciously, who knows?

  K:

  I think you’re trying to eradicate it and not let your conscience say you did it.

  P:

  Would it definitely be me? Could it have been someone else?

  K:

  No way. From these reactions.

  P:

  Now I’m afraid, because I was so sure I didn’t do it, you know what I mean? I want to go back to school. I don’t have any place to go.

  K:

  This isn’t the end of the world. As long as you don’t get it straightened out in your mind, you’ll never have a day of peace.

  P:

  I gotta get it straightened out right now.

  K:

  Right. Once we do that, we’re halfway home. There’s no doubt in my mind from these charts you did it. But why and how?

  P:

  That’s what I don’t know. If I did it, I don’t remember it. What I told you is exactly how I remember it. Is there any way they can kind of pound it out of me?

  K:

  Peter!

  P:

  Well, not pound it out of me, but dig deeper into me.

  K:

  This is what we’re trying to do here. And I think you can give me the answer if you want to. I think you’re so ashamed, that if you tell me, you don’t know what I’m going to say to you. You’re so damned ashamed of last night that you’re trying to just block it out of your mind. You just feel that by sitting here and denying it and denying it and denying it, that it’s going to go away.

  P:

  I’m not purposely denying it. If I did it, I wish I knew I’d done it. I’d be more than happy to admit it if I knew it. If I could remember it. But I don’t remember it.

  K:

  How are we going to solve this? What’s your suggestion?

  P:

  I don’t know. Another test would help. Find out what they found in the house. The thing is, I don’t want to go into a mental hospital. I don’t want to leave the people I know. I don’t want to leave the band; we’re starting to go professional.

  K:

  Is that what’s worrying you, Peter? That you’ll have to go into a mental hospital?

  P:

  The thing is, if I did it, I don’t remember. I don’t want to go into a mental hospital. I don’t mind a session with a psychiatrist once a week, but I want to stay in the school I’m going to. But I’m stuck. I’m hung up. I don’t remember.

  K:

  My charts say you remember this right now.

  P:

  But I don’t. Can you fire this thing up and ask me again?

  K:

  No. I have enough now. I think our problem is that you don’t want to remember. You’re afraid of what’s going to happen to you if you tell me the whole truth.

  P:

  I can’t understand it. If it meant bringing my mother back right now, I don’t remember it.

  K:

  You said three months ago you fired a flashlight at her. Have you done anything more serious? Tried to choke her, or hit her in the face?

  P:

  No, no. Absolutely not.

  K:

  So how do you think we’re going to resolve this, Pete?

  P:

  We got to keep drilling at it. But I’d like to get some sleep.

  K:

  Do you want me to start yelling at you?

  P:

  No.

  K:

  Would you come back here and talk to me again?

  P:

  I’ll be happy to come back anytime you want me to. If you want me to see a psychiatrist, except I don’t have any money now.

  K:

  That’s why I keep talking to you now. I think you almost remember.

  P:

  I don’t know. I still don’t remember anything. There’s space in there now.

  K:

  Sit there and close your eyes and just relate your story again from the time you arrive in the yard with the Corvette.

  P:

  OK. I drive in the yard. Shut off the car. I remember shaking down the headlight. I put it in gear. Locked it up. I went in and yelled, “Mom, I’m home.” I looked up at the bed.

  K:

  Was the bed messed up, or just turned down?

  P:

  There was a sleeping bag on top of the blanket. She had the sleeping bag open. The bed lamp was on. I thought I saw her, you know what I mean? Then I did a double take.

  K:

  See what I mean?

  P:

  That’s what could mess me up.

  K:

  This is probably where you flipped over. You probably did see your mother there. And the next thing, you see your mother on the floor. This is our gray area. You feel you saw her standing there.

  P:

  No, lying in bed.

  K:

  Oh, all right. Lying in bed.

  P:

  But I still don’t remember.

  K:

  Would she have had the light on? Does she normally go to bed so early?

  P:

  As soon as the news is over, and it got too cold outside to read, she’d go to bed and read. Usually when she went to bed she wore all her clothes. It wasn’t all that fancy as far as cleanliness went.

  K:

  Maybe this is the problem. Your friends’ houses are nice and clean. You come home to a dirty house.

  P:

  That doesn’t bother me that much.

  K:

  Maybe this turns you on. You know?

  P:

  I wish I could go out and have that cigarette now.

  K:

  I got a couple here. Let me get an ashtray.

  P:

  If I did do it, why don’t I remember it?

  K:

  Because you mind is trying to—

  P:

  Block it out. I don’t think I’m any dummy.

  K:

  Oh no. I don’t think you’re a dummy. I think something happened, and you’re so goddamned ashamed, you’re afraid to come out with it.

  P:

  Do you think I’m deliberately lying to you?

  K:

  Yeah, I do.

  P:

  I don’t.

  K:

  I feel you could tell me right now exactly how your mother died. The way I rea
d the report, something violent had to occur between you and her.

  P:

  It had to happen between her and I?

  K:

  Especially with the broken legs. She had to be hit with something, right? Or it could be a complete goddamn accident and you hit her with your car. Maybe with this ailment she had, she had fallen down, and you hit her with the car, and you panicked.

  P:

  Are my footprints going into the bedroom there?

  K:

  I understand they have some in blood.

  P:

  Blood? In my shoe marks?

  K:

  Well, this takes a while to check out. This isn’t magic.

  P:

  When I fell asleep this morning, I dreamed I hadn’t gone to the Teen Center, I stayed home, and somebody came into the house, and I was trying to protect her. I don’t remember that clearly either, but I want to find out. I’m more than willing to come back and take another test because if I did it, I want to know I did it.

  K:

  I think you know now. I think you’re afraid.

  P:

  I’m not. All my fears are gone. If I was afraid, I’d start crying.

  K:

  You know what I think, Pete? You’re afraid we’re going to lock you up someplace and throw away the key. This isn’t going to happen. You’re a decent-living guy. You’re not a criminal. You did a crazy thing. I’ve done crazy things. Probably when I was your age I did crazier things than you’ve done. Screwing around, you know? I’m not going to sit here and tell you that I’m an angel. I’d be lyin’ to you. The people in the area think you’re a decent guy. This is our problem. You’re such a decent guy and this is such a shameful thing. What your friends would think of you …

  P:

  Well, that does bother me. Could it be that I’ve totally put it out of my memory?

  K:

  RIGHT! This is our problem. Once we get this out in the open and get you the proper help, it will be over with.

  P:

  Would truth serum help? Sodium pentothal?

  K:

  This is better. I think right now, Pete, you’re ashamed of the thing and you’re afraid you’d go into a mental hospital. Let me speak from experience. I’ve known people who have gone into a mental hospital. They keep them, depending on who they are, in classes together. It’s just like going to school. It’s not like in the movies, where you’re in a cage and people stare at you.

  P:

  It would be coming back and facing people I knew.

  K:

  We had a girl here one time, about eight years ago. She was seventeen. Probably she’s twenty-five today. She had a hang-up, she was going around burning down all her relations’ homes. Aunts, uncles, cousins. She sat right where you’re sitting now. Exact same chair. That’s the same chair we had eight years ago. Not the same polygraph, but the same chair. And she gave us reactions like this. She denied it for, oh, I don’t know how long. I kept talking to her like I’m talking to you. Finally she admitted it. She thought the world hated her. Especially her relations. OK? We got her out of here. They put her in a mental hospital for three and a half months. She’s a normal person today. Married, with a family. We still get Christmas cards from her, and she signs—I’m not going to tell you her name, it’s none of your business—she signs it, and underneath she puts, Thanks. We know what she means.

  P:

  Did she realize she was doing it?

  K:

  Yes. Fortunately, nobody was ever in the house. She used to do it when they were away. But she gave me the same thing you’re giving me now. Finally she told me. We got her the help, and she’s a normal person today. As simple as that.

  P:

  I want to tell you I did it now. But I’m still not sure I did do it.

  K:

  Look, you’re afraid. Nobody’s going to hate you.

  P:

  The part that really bothers me is the band. That’s my life.

  K:

  Three months out of your life. That’s not a very long time. It’s not the end of the world.

  P:

  It seems as though it is, though. She’s gone.

  4

  Barbara was chilled at the Sharon Hospital morgue for a while on Saturday, until Dr. Izumi arrived for the autopsy. There were very few murder victims brought into Sharon Hospital and Dr. Izumi kept thinking of Barbara as a patient.

  He cut out Barbara’s heart and put it on a scale. It weighed 280 grams. He cut out both her kidneys and weighed them, too. He took a sample of her blood, using a syringe. He pushed a little metallic probe through the wound in the palm of her right hand, and it came out the back. He pulled out some of Barbara’s pubic hairs, and hairs from her arm and head, and turned them over to Trooper Venclauscas, who put them in plastic containers. Sergeant Chapman, who had taken pictures of Barbara at the house, came to the autopsy too. He took nineteen colored slides. The autopsy took a long time, more than six hours. It began while Peter was sleeping at the barracks and continued through midafternoon, while Peter was driving to Hartford with Jim Mulhern, and then, in the seat of honor, talking with Sergeant Kelly. Talking about Barbara.

  K:

  There’s nothing we can do about your mother now, right? You’re only eighteen, right? You got a long way to go in this world. We can concentrate on you, get you straightened out, so this thing that happened here will disappear. But if you don’t talk about it it’s not going to disappear and you’re going to keep sliding down into a deeper hole. Right now you’re at the point of this hole. You haven’t dropped in yet.

  P:

  I’ve sometimes wondered if I’m mentally right.

  K:

  Let’s see where we go from here. What instrument do you play in the band?

  P:

  Guitar. If I had to give up the band, I’d have no outlook on life anymore.

  K:

  Three months out of your life isn’t going to hurt you.

  P:

  Missing band practice …

  K:

  First we gotta straighten Peter out. If you don’t get straightened out you’re gonna screw up the band worse. You’re gonna be strumming away some night and you’re going to be off-key.

  P:

  My outlook on life now is a big question mark.

  K:

  I think this is why this thing happened. I think you’re mixed up.

  P:

  I know I’m mixed up now.

  K:

  You’re a little mixed up upstairs. I’m not saying you’re nuts, don’t get me wrong. You’re confused. Now, you went in the house and saw your mother. Lying in bed or standing there?

  P:

  Lying in bed. It seemed, you know, like a double take.

  K:

  Possibly she said something to you. “You son of a bitch, where ya been all night?” And you went off the handle.

  P:

  She was always calling up after me. I didn’t get the freedom of being eighteen.

  K:

  Eighteen, you’re a man, according to the law. You’re a free man, you can vote, you can drink, you can do anything you want. Your mother wouldn’t let you go, huh?

  P:

  No. You know, the apron strings. Actually, I think my mother could have used help herself. There’s a record in my family of mental problems. My mom had an aunt who hung herself. My grandfather had a drinking problem. That’s why I don’t like to drink so much.

  K:

  Is this what happened: You came home and because, as you said, you’re tied to your mother’s apron strings, she flew off the handle and went at you or something and you had to protect yourself?

  P:

  It’s still not coming through. I still can’t remember and I want to.

  K:

  This could be the whole thing. She could have went at you, and this is strictly a self-defense thing where you had to protect yourself. Do you follow me?

&nbs
p; P:

  But I’d still have a problem. I mean, self-defense goes just so far.

  K:

  But this is where you went off the handle. You lost complete control of your mind and your body.

  P:

  I wish I hadn’t gone home last night. I wish I’d stayed at the Teen Center.

  K:

  We can’t change that.

  P:

  If it hadn’t happened last night, do you think it would have happened some other time?

  K:

  Possibly.… We have to think of the future. You got a long way to go in the future. I wish I had as long as you.

  P:

  Could I make an appointment with a psychiatrist?

  K:

  They’ll arrange it for you, the fellows that are investigating. But first of all, we gotta know: Do we have a cold-blooded killer sitting here, or do we have a guy with a problem that needs to be straightened out?