Disclaimer: Rob Thomas owns all. I own none.
X X X X X
I'd sooner talk to Clarence Weidman than some people. Osama bin Laden. The Green River Killer. Timothy McVeigh. Celeste Kane.
Beyond that? Not so much.
"Sure we do," I said brightly. "So how much is that again?"
"Miss Mars --"
"Let me see, I think it was 9, 10, 11 -- and there's two dollars for the tip."
"Miss Mars --"
"And I'm so sorry your career being the Kanes' designated hatchetman didn't work out. Good luck in your new job!" I took the pizza and moved to close the door.
Weidman dropped the money on my floor and pulled out a digital tape player.
Oh, no . . .
My voice came out of it clearly: "We need to start thinking about how to prove that your Dad killed Lilly Kane, and not you."
Logan's followed: "Why now?"
Then me again: "Because you and I just got your alibi witnesses arrested. And while Little Dick might be stupid enough not to try to deal his way out of it, Beaver's smarter than that and is perfectly capable of admitting he lied earlier to cover for you."
"Like I said, Miss Mars," Weidman said, stopping the playback. "We need to talk. You, me, and --" he gestured towards Logan -- "Mr. Echolls." He closed the door behind him.
Logan had been watching the exchange between me and Weidman with interest -- and then, when he heard the playback, anger. He came up to stand next to me. "Veronica," he said with clearly exaggerated cheerfulness, "Why don't you introduce me to your friend?"
"Logan Echolls, this is Clarence Weidman. He sent my mom pictures of me framed in a rifle sight to get her to leave town." Angrily, Logan took a step toward Weidman. "Logan, no," I said. Hitting Clarence Weidman would be a very bad idea right now. Tempting, but bad.
"So I did," Weidman said. "I had my reasons, Miss Mars."
"I know those reasons," I said. "Jake Kane told you to."
Surprisingly, Weidman shook his head. "No. I never tell Mr. Kane exactly what I'm doing."
"It's called 'plausible deniability,' Veronica," Logan said. "That way on the off chance Mr. Excitement here is caught doing something he shouldn't, Jakey boy can go on TV and say, 'I'm shocked, shocked . . .'"
Weidman said, "Exactly."
After a few seconds, I said, "So. Should I assume the police are on their way? Or is this simply another one of your famous blackmail attempts? At least this time you're delivering the bad news in person rather than sending it via Federal Express." I added coldly, "When you absolutely, positively have to threaten someone's family overnight."
"I realize you don't like me, Miss Mars --"
"Not like?" I said. "Clarence, 'don't like' is how I feel about walnuts in my brownie. You I loathe."
The thing that ticked me off most was, he didn't even react. Clarence Weidman struck me as one of those people who would remain calm at the lip of an erupting volcano. "I understand that," he said. "But I didn't come here to do either of those things. I actually came here to help you."
"Somehow I doubt that. Because playing these tapes? Not exactly an expression of amity and good will."
"You said it yourself," he said, walking over to the kitchenette. "I am an employee of the Kane family. My job is to protect them and their reputation however I can. My job is not to protect the Echolls family, father . . . " he looked directly at Logan. " Or son."
"You said you didn't call the police," I said tightly.
"And I don't plan to," he said. "There's no point in confusing the Neptune Sheriff's Department with two suspects. They wouldn't know what to do with themselves. If Abel Koontz is found not to have committed the crime, though --"
"They're going to be looking for someone else. Me, maybe," Logan said. "Especially if Dick and Beaver decide to start talking."
"Or possibly in the direction of Mr. Kane. Or his son. The one direction they will not be looking in is that of a deceased actor. Even if that actor does have an established reputation for sleeping with underage women."
Something about what he just said hit me. "You're not covering for Jake. Or Celeste," I said. "You're covering for Duncan. His father thought he'd killed Lilly in what? An epileptic fit?"
Weidman looked at me. "How did you know --"
"You're not the only one who uses bugs, Clarence," I said. "Now obviously nothing we're saying now is going beyond the three of us. Well, four if you count Backup. But he's not talking. So am I right?"
After a second, he said, "You are. But you think he didn't do it based off of some . . . tapes you saw?" I nodded. "What was on those tapes?"
"No way in hell you're finding that out," Logan said.
I looked at Logan and said, "This man could get you arrested tomorrow if he wanted to. Much as I hate to do this," I said, "I think we have to tell him."
Logan looked betrayed. I was trying to help him. "Whatever," he muttered, clearly unhappy.
"The tapes," I said, "Show Aaron Echolls having sex with Lilly Kane a few days before she was killed."
"Motive for him. And motive for the younger Mr. Echolls."
"Right. So, once again. You're not here to blackmail us, but to 'help' us. So. Let's lay it out, Clarence. How do you plan on helping?"
"You stop looking to get Abel Koontz free. You stop looking for evidence to clear Mr. Echolls. Stop looking for your mother. Stop stirring things up, Miss Mars."
"And?" I demanded. I wasn't going to stop looking for my mother no matter what Weidman threatened me with.
"And, should your father be able to find evidence exonerating Mr. Koontz -- I don't expect you to be able to stop him -- then I will make certain that any subsequent investigation fails to find evidence pointing towards the younger Mr. Echolls. Any accusations of the Casablancas brothers will go uncorroborated. Other evidence could go . . . missing."
God damn it to hell.
I had no choice.
He'd backed me into a corner. And I couldn't get out of it.
I had a wild thought: Say, "Backup, kill." Because Backup would do it. And I don't care how good or fast Clarence Weidman is, or whether he has a weapon. Within thirty seconds he would be bleeding to death on my kitchen floor. And I would stand there and watch. That's the depth of the loathing I felt for Clarence Weidman at that moment. Then Logan and I could say that he'd forced his way in there and made threats towards me. Then my heroic dog had saved both my life and that of my boyfriend.
My daring rescue of Logan aside, I'm not known for my violent tendencies. So he probably wouldn't be expecting that. But even with that, he wasn't stupid enough to have come in here without some kind of contingency plan. And even if he was, I couldn't take the chance.
And I wasn't built that way. I'm not a murderer. I'm not Aaron Echolls.
But if I say I was tempted, does that make me a bad person?
He and Logan were waiting for me to answer. Logan, apparently, was letting me make the call here.
"No," I said. "My mother is no part of this."
"You would risk your both going to jail for that?" Weidman asked.
And then Logan spoke for the first time in a while. "Yes, she would. And so would I." He came over and put his arm around my shoulders.
He looked at both of us carefully. Then he said, "I will concede that point. I would hate to play poker with you, Miss Mars."
"You'd lose," I said.
"Then do we have an agreement?"
"Yes," I said. "Yes." I looked at him. "I hope you don't expect me to shake your hand."
He started to leave, then he pointed to the pizza box. "It's on me," he said. "And by the way, I think it's getting cold." I wasn't hungry right then.
Stepping over the money, he opened the door and shut it behind him.
I immediately ran into my room. Logan followed me, a bit confused. "Where is it?" I said. "Where is it?" I looked wildly around until my eyes settled on the panda pencil sharpener. I'd gotten it for a donation to some wildlife group. I'd never actually donated to the group.
I threw the sharpener to the ground and smashed it with my foot. Then I took the bug into the bathroom and flushed it. Clarence Weidman wouldn't hear anything else . . .
I turned to Logan. "I'm sorry," I said. "I'm sorry I had to tell him. That I didn't figure everything out in time. That I had to make that deal with the devil." I began to cry.
"Shhh," Logan said, holding me.
"I'm sorry," I said through the tears. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry . . . "