Serenity Club Epilogue
Tucker shrugged.
“And it sounds absolutely crazy even to me,” Denny said with a nod, “but I’m going to ask anyway.”
“Well, go ahead already.”
Denny took a deep breath. “Someone said they overheard you congratulate Brig for killing Rashida.”
Tucker, squinting, looked at Denny as if he’d just spoken in a different language.
“I know, it’s pretty out there.”
Tucker seemed to recover himself a bit. “Who’s Rashida?”
Oh God. “You didn’t hear my ex-wife was murdered?”
Tucker shook his head.
Denny swallowed. “Well, like I said, it was absolutely crazy but I had to ask.”
“Well, who said I said that?”
Denny couldn’t go there. He wondered if it had been wise to even say as much as he did.
*
Denny hightailed it out of the Serenity Club. He should’ve …show more content…
worn his boots, he thought as he tramped through the snow on his way to his car. With Tucker denying he congratulated Brig for killing Rashida, the needle again pointed back at Orson. Or at least that’s what Denny was thinking. Orson. A liar over and over again. Denny’s anger was building.
It was barely noon. The snow was slowing, the heavy flakes thinning, the wind fading. Denny knew that with only a couple of days to Orson’s scuba certification test, he would probably be training at the YMCA again and he was. This time in the weight room, doing some kind of ab-pulley machine, while sitting way back on a bench. Denny didn’t bother taking off his coat. “Let’s go, Orson. I gotta talk to you.”
“Yeah, okay,” Orson said with a sharp exhalation and he let the pulley go, the plate-weights clanging loudly. His one eye was still pink, red actually, as if filled with blood. “What’s up?”
Denny nodded him out of the room of grunting weightlifters, nearly all men and two brave but rather homely-looking chicks. They walked through a door and into a deserted corridor behind some racquetball courts. The muffled shouts of the players and little ‘booms’ of racquetballs being compressed could be faintly overheard. Denny looked all over. Nobody around. “Want to tell me what the hell is going on?”
Orson shrugged. “What do you mean?”
Denny was right in his face. “I trusted you, man.”
“I don’t know what you’re saying.”
“I trusted you and you lied.”
“About what?”
“About everything. When you left The Wild Bull the night of Rashida’s murder. About overhearing Rufus Tucker congratulating Brig for killing her.”
Orson shook his head. “I don’t know what to say.”
Denny grabbed him by his sweaty T-shirt. “You can tell me why!”
“But I didn’t lie.”
“Oh.” Denny pushed him away. “Are you really going to tell me that with a straight face?”
“Yeah, I didn’t.”
“And so everybody else is lying? Is that it?”
“I don’t know what everybody else is doing, Denny, but I didn’t.”
“Stop it, Orson.
Stop it right now.”
“What do you want me to say? If I say I lied I’d be lying.”
“Yeah, okay.” Denny smirked. “Powell said you bugged him to take you along on one of his dates. And when you were alone with Powell’s girlfriend’s friend you asked her: ‘Want me to hurt you?’ Do you deny that too?”
“I was just curious what Powell did. Tell me you aren’t? Hey, every guy in the firehouse wishes they were him when it comes to that stuff.”
“I don’t think so, Orson.” Denny sneered. “So, where were you when Rashida was murdered?”
“I resent you even asking that.” He started to walk away but Denny grabbed him.
“You’re setting up Brig as the killer. Why?”
Orson batted Denny’s hands off. “Hey. Look. You’re on the verge of crossing a line here. All I can say is I’ve had your back all these years. Don’t turn yours on me now.”
“I just want the truth.”
Orson shook his head. “So hire a private investigator.”
“I already have.”
Orson glared at him. “You hired a private investigator to investigate me?”
“Yeah.”
Orson started nodding. “All right. All right. What can I say then? Except that...it’s over. You’re on your own now, Denny.” He turned and walked away.
Denny trailed him. “You killed Rashida. You wanted to get off on hurting somebody so you raped and killed her.” He grabbed him …show more content…
again.
Orson stared him in the face with the one bloody eye. “Yeah, you’re on your own now, Denny,” he said again, shook free and walked out.
*
The sweat came up on Denny’s forehead. Standing alone in the corridor behind the racquetball courts he was overheating, like he was going to pass out. He ripped off his coat and took some deep breaths. Orson had rocked him. He seemed to be a totally different person. He seemed...evil.
Denny was so thrown, when he left the YMCA he had to concentrate on his driving. Orson. You’re on your own now, Denny, he’d said. That icy look in his eyes, the one eye so bloody. He was like a zombie. Denny didn’t know what to think. Didn’t know what to do. When he got to his apartment, he sat on the sofa in his living room and thought his head might explode. Should he call Detective Washington with what he’d discovered? He frowned. Washington who was always trying to trick him into implicating himself? No, he didn’t think so. Aunt Elizabeth? She seemed the only reasonable choice. There was a knock on the door.
Denny had a baseball bat in the front closet. He padded toward the door, hoping the floor wouldn’t creak, opened the closet and grabbed the bat. He wished the door had a peephole. He figured he could just wait for the person to leave. He’d done that countless times on hangover mornings when he was too ashamed to face angry neighbors come to ream him a new one for blasting his music all night. But what if this was important? Orson was out there walking around—a danger. Denny opened the door. Brig.
“What’s with the bat?”
“Brig.” Denny sighed. “I thought it might somebody else.”
“Well, I would hope so.” He walked by Denny into the apartment. “I’d hate to think you had that out for me.”
Denny shut the door, staring at Brig. “What are you doing here?”
“Oh great.” Brig nodded. “I come all the way over on a vacation day when I should be partying and you greet me with a baseball bat and ‘What are you doing here?’”
“I didn’t mean it that way. I’m just under a lot of stress. I was just talking to Orson.”
Brig held up a palm. “Hold that thought because I’ve got something really important to tell you. My friend at CPD got ahold of the complete forensic report.”
“Are you kidding me?”
Brig took Denny by the shoulders. “You’re gonna want to sit down for this one, Den. It’s really funky.”
Denny took one. He took two. He took three deep breaths. “Just tell me.”
“All right. Okay.” Brig let him go. “Rashida had no semen in her body, nor were any traces of it found in the house.”
Denny thought of his accusing Orson of raping her. “That’s a surprise.”
“I thought so too. But there’s more.”
Denny braced himself. “What?”
“She had no trace of semen in her body but she did have a date rape drug, something called Rohypnol, in her system.”
Denny pulled a hand across his mouth. “That makes no sense—someone gave her a date rape drug, handcuffed her and didn’t rape her?”
“I told you it was funky. But yeah, that’s what it was.”
*
Brig left Denny’s apartment, off to party, Denny figured, and Denny drove straight to Aunt Elizabeth’s office.
When he walked in, Gabriela just barely acknowledged him. As far as Denny could tell that meant she liked him because she was disappointed in his being cold to her the last time he was there. But he was at the stage where not even a beautiful woman could divert his attention from the mess his life had become. More than anything what drove him now was the rage building against Rashida’s killer.
Aunt Elizabeth was busy. No surprise there. Denny had to sit for a half hour in the waiting area near the newly icy Gabriela. Finally Aunt Elizabeth summoned him.
He told her everything this time. About Brig’s revelation of the forensic report. Of Orson’s denials and veiled threat. He even—screw it—told her about his missing handcuffs and the cab company records indicating he’d left from Rashida’s the night of the murder. Again, he felt she thought he did it. He fell back in his chair. “My God, you really think I killed her, don’t you?”
“Dennis.” The irritation in her voice said it all.
“Hey.” He shrugged. “What can I say? That’s the way it seems to
me.”
“Dennis,” she said again and she shook her head. “Grow up. In this situation I am your attorney, not your aunt. And that’s how you need to think about it. And as your attorney my job is not to hold your hand but to keep you out of jail.”
“And it sounds absolutely crazy even to me,” Denny said with a nod, “but I’m going to ask anyway.”
“Well, go ahead already.”
Denny took a deep breath. “Someone said they overheard you congratulate Brig for killing Rashida.”
Tucker, squinting, looked at Denny as if he’d just spoken in a different language.
“I know, it’s pretty out there.”
Tucker seemed to recover himself a bit. “Who’s Rashida?”
Oh God. “You didn’t hear my ex-wife was murdered?”
Tucker shook his head.
Denny swallowed. “Well, like I said, it was absolutely crazy but I had to ask.”
“Well, who said I said that?”
Denny couldn’t go there. He wondered if it had been wise to even say as much as he did.
*
Denny hightailed it out of the Serenity Club. He should’ve …show more content…
worn his boots, he thought as he tramped through the snow on his way to his car. With Tucker denying he congratulated Brig for killing Rashida, the needle again pointed back at Orson. Or at least that’s what Denny was thinking. Orson. A liar over and over again. Denny’s anger was building.
It was barely noon. The snow was slowing, the heavy flakes thinning, the wind fading. Denny knew that with only a couple of days to Orson’s scuba certification test, he would probably be training at the YMCA again and he was. This time in the weight room, doing some kind of ab-pulley machine, while sitting way back on a bench. Denny didn’t bother taking off his coat. “Let’s go, Orson. I gotta talk to you.”
“Yeah, okay,” Orson said with a sharp exhalation and he let the pulley go, the plate-weights clanging loudly. His one eye was still pink, red actually, as if filled with blood. “What’s up?”
Denny nodded him out of the room of grunting weightlifters, nearly all men and two brave but rather homely-looking chicks. They walked through a door and into a deserted corridor behind some racquetball courts. The muffled shouts of the players and little ‘booms’ of racquetballs being compressed could be faintly overheard. Denny looked all over. Nobody around. “Want to tell me what the hell is going on?”
Orson shrugged. “What do you mean?”
Denny was right in his face. “I trusted you, man.”
“I don’t know what you’re saying.”
“I trusted you and you lied.”
“About what?”
“About everything. When you left The Wild Bull the night of Rashida’s murder. About overhearing Rufus Tucker congratulating Brig for killing her.”
Orson shook his head. “I don’t know what to say.”
Denny grabbed him by his sweaty T-shirt. “You can tell me why!”
“But I didn’t lie.”
“Oh.” Denny pushed him away. “Are you really going to tell me that with a straight face?”
“Yeah, I didn’t.”
“And so everybody else is lying? Is that it?”
“I don’t know what everybody else is doing, Denny, but I didn’t.”
“Stop it, Orson.
Stop it right now.”
“What do you want me to say? If I say I lied I’d be lying.”
“Yeah, okay.” Denny smirked. “Powell said you bugged him to take you along on one of his dates. And when you were alone with Powell’s girlfriend’s friend you asked her: ‘Want me to hurt you?’ Do you deny that too?”
“I was just curious what Powell did. Tell me you aren’t? Hey, every guy in the firehouse wishes they were him when it comes to that stuff.”
“I don’t think so, Orson.” Denny sneered. “So, where were you when Rashida was murdered?”
“I resent you even asking that.” He started to walk away but Denny grabbed him.
“You’re setting up Brig as the killer. Why?”
Orson batted Denny’s hands off. “Hey. Look. You’re on the verge of crossing a line here. All I can say is I’ve had your back all these years. Don’t turn yours on me now.”
“I just want the truth.”
Orson shook his head. “So hire a private investigator.”
“I already have.”
Orson glared at him. “You hired a private investigator to investigate me?”
“Yeah.”
Orson started nodding. “All right. All right. What can I say then? Except that...it’s over. You’re on your own now, Denny.” He turned and walked away.
Denny trailed him. “You killed Rashida. You wanted to get off on hurting somebody so you raped and killed her.” He grabbed him …show more content…
again.
Orson stared him in the face with the one bloody eye. “Yeah, you’re on your own now, Denny,” he said again, shook free and walked out.
*
The sweat came up on Denny’s forehead. Standing alone in the corridor behind the racquetball courts he was overheating, like he was going to pass out. He ripped off his coat and took some deep breaths. Orson had rocked him. He seemed to be a totally different person. He seemed...evil.
Denny was so thrown, when he left the YMCA he had to concentrate on his driving. Orson. You’re on your own now, Denny, he’d said. That icy look in his eyes, the one eye so bloody. He was like a zombie. Denny didn’t know what to think. Didn’t know what to do. When he got to his apartment, he sat on the sofa in his living room and thought his head might explode. Should he call Detective Washington with what he’d discovered? He frowned. Washington who was always trying to trick him into implicating himself? No, he didn’t think so. Aunt Elizabeth? She seemed the only reasonable choice. There was a knock on the door.
Denny had a baseball bat in the front closet. He padded toward the door, hoping the floor wouldn’t creak, opened the closet and grabbed the bat. He wished the door had a peephole. He figured he could just wait for the person to leave. He’d done that countless times on hangover mornings when he was too ashamed to face angry neighbors come to ream him a new one for blasting his music all night. But what if this was important? Orson was out there walking around—a danger. Denny opened the door. Brig.
“What’s with the bat?”
“Brig.” Denny sighed. “I thought it might somebody else.”
“Well, I would hope so.” He walked by Denny into the apartment. “I’d hate to think you had that out for me.”
Denny shut the door, staring at Brig. “What are you doing here?”
“Oh great.” Brig nodded. “I come all the way over on a vacation day when I should be partying and you greet me with a baseball bat and ‘What are you doing here?’”
“I didn’t mean it that way. I’m just under a lot of stress. I was just talking to Orson.”
Brig held up a palm. “Hold that thought because I’ve got something really important to tell you. My friend at CPD got ahold of the complete forensic report.”
“Are you kidding me?”
Brig took Denny by the shoulders. “You’re gonna want to sit down for this one, Den. It’s really funky.”
Denny took one. He took two. He took three deep breaths. “Just tell me.”
“All right. Okay.” Brig let him go. “Rashida had no semen in her body, nor were any traces of it found in the house.”
Denny thought of his accusing Orson of raping her. “That’s a surprise.”
“I thought so too. But there’s more.”
Denny braced himself. “What?”
“She had no trace of semen in her body but she did have a date rape drug, something called Rohypnol, in her system.”
Denny pulled a hand across his mouth. “That makes no sense—someone gave her a date rape drug, handcuffed her and didn’t rape her?”
“I told you it was funky. But yeah, that’s what it was.”
*
Brig left Denny’s apartment, off to party, Denny figured, and Denny drove straight to Aunt Elizabeth’s office.
When he walked in, Gabriela just barely acknowledged him. As far as Denny could tell that meant she liked him because she was disappointed in his being cold to her the last time he was there. But he was at the stage where not even a beautiful woman could divert his attention from the mess his life had become. More than anything what drove him now was the rage building against Rashida’s killer.
Aunt Elizabeth was busy. No surprise there. Denny had to sit for a half hour in the waiting area near the newly icy Gabriela. Finally Aunt Elizabeth summoned him.
He told her everything this time. About Brig’s revelation of the forensic report. Of Orson’s denials and veiled threat. He even—screw it—told her about his missing handcuffs and the cab company records indicating he’d left from Rashida’s the night of the murder. Again, he felt she thought he did it. He fell back in his chair. “My God, you really think I killed her, don’t you?”
“Dennis.” The irritation in her voice said it all.
“Hey.” He shrugged. “What can I say? That’s the way it seems to
me.”
“Dennis,” she said again and she shook her head. “Grow up. In this situation I am your attorney, not your aunt. And that’s how you need to think about it. And as your attorney my job is not to hold your hand but to keep you out of jail.”