Perchance to Dream

The next few weeks were crazy. Sometimes the hours seem to stretch on forever, other times whole days zipped past. I was indicted by a grand jury and arraigned before a judge, where I pleaded not guilty. For all that time I was held in the city jail, slowly going crazy trying to comprehend what had happened to me.

Max Maxwell, my attorney, was not very encouraging. He certainly knew his way around the criminal justice system, but he kept asking me to strike a plea bargain with the District Attorney. I refused, which brought us to my bail hearing. I felt that if I could only get out of that cell, somehow I could find out how I'd been set up and by whom.

The DA didn't want me out on bail at all. He cited the "heinous" nature of my crime and called me a flight risk. Maxwell pointed out that I had no prior criminal history and strong ties to the city. The judge compromised by setting bail at a million dollars. "Max," I whispered to my attorney, "where in the hell am I going to get a million bucks?"

"All you have to come up with is 10% - $100,000. You can put up your business for it."

I got a chance to huddle with Billy after the hearing. "The business is half yours, so I hate to ask, but do you think we can do it?"

He didn't hesitate. "No sweat, Bro. I know you're not going to head to Mexico on me. Besides," he winked, "if you do, you know I'll be coming after you."

So there I was that afternoon, sitting in my house, free on bail, desperately trying to imagine who could have killed Helen, and why. Max Maxwell had promised to comb through the evidence the State had against me to see if there were any chinks in the armor. But I figured that wasn't likely to solve my problem.

I had to believe that Darren Browder was somehow involved, so I tried to puzzle it out. He and Helen were having an affair - I was positive of that. Suppose Helen became too attached, began making demands on Browder. Could he have killed her to get her off his back? Or what if Helen started blackmailing him? That could have raised the stakes for him even higher.

Who else?

I thought back to the night Helen disappeared. She and Nancy had gone dancing at that club. Nancy told me she'd hooked up with some guy and left Helen behind. But what if Nancy hadn't left? What if she and the other guy decided to have a threesome with Helen, and the whole thing went wrong?

Maybe, but it sounded pretty far out to me. And speaking of far out, maybe I needed to think even further outside the box. There was one person I knew who seemed obsessed by Helen: Frankie. Could she have met Helen that night and tried to persuade her to leave me? Could she have professed her love for Helen and been repulsed? God knows Frankie was strong enough to strangle Helen if she wanted to. Could she be the killer?

But that's crazy - Helen was raped! The killer had to be a man - didn't he?

But no matter what crazy scenario I imagined, they all came back to the fact that the coroner found my semen in Helen. I didn't want to face it, but maybe I was the killer. Could I have done it and forgotten or blocked it out?

As I thought back to that night, I started to remember things - things I didn't like. There's no question that I got drunk that Friday, so drunk that I blacked out. But could I have awakened in the middle of the night, gone out and done something so terrible that I didn't want to remember it? But how could I do something so evil and then calmly do yardwork on Saturday? Was I some kind of cold-blooded monster?

Oh, shit, that reminds me: why were my work boots all muddy when I went out to mow the lawn? I'm always careful to clean up after my chores. What if Helen had come home that night and I flew into a rage? Could I have raped her, strangled her and then hauled her body out to Birnam Woods?

The thought made me sick. Then I remembered my dreams - the terrible anger I'd felt toward Helen, followed by those ominous visions of dark woods and depression. But those were just my reaction to Helen's staying out all night, weren't they? Weren't they?

You've got to stop thinking like this, I told myself. You need to get out of the house and away from all these reminders of Helen.

I glanced over at the wall clock and saw it was after 5:00, so I called Billy. "Hey, Bro, how about meeting me over at Louie's. I need somebody to help me make sense of everything that's going on."

He agreed, and was sitting in a booth in the back with a beer for me when I walked in. While we sipped on the first round, he brought me up to speed on what was going on with the business. Then, after he got us a second round, he encouraged me to talk about what was going through my mind.

I told him I'd been wracking my brain trying to come up with some explanation for what had happened to Helen, someone else who might have done it. I told him about all my wild theories and crazy scenarios, none of which explained why my DNA was the only one they'd found.

Billy tried to encourage me. "I've been thinking about that, Mickey. Maybe the lab guys made a mistake - maybe they found your juice left over from the last time you and Helen did it. I bet they found it and didn't bother to look any further."

"I don't know, Billy. That sounds pretty unlikely, and I don't know I could prove something like that anyway." I shook my head, and the room spun for a moment. Damn, how many beers have I had? This is only my second, isn't it? Now I can't remember.

I rubbed my eyes and Billy stared at me. "Are you okay, Mickey?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. The beer just seems to be sneaking up on me. Maybe it's because I was dry all the time I was in jail."

Just then I heard my cellphone ring, and when I managed to focus on the display, I saw it was Max Maxwell calling. "Hey, Billy, I gotta take this - it's my lawyer."

I stood up and staggered a little as I stepped out through the back door so I could hear better. I had to lean against the wall to steady myself.

"Hey, Max, what's happening?"

He hesitated a moment, and I wondered if I sounded drunk.

"Mickey, I just learned something that may help our case. You know the DNA test the police did?"

"How can I forget it?"

"Well, guess what: they only test a small fraction of the DNA because that's usually all they need to find a match. That's what they did with Helen: the DNA in the semen was a match with yours, so that was enough."

The alley kept wanting to move, so I tried to prop myself more firmly against the wall.

"Okay, Max, but how does that help me?"

"What if the killer has DNA that's almost identical to yours?"

My head was really swimming now. "You mean I've got a clone out there, or an evil twin?"

"Have you been drinking, Mickey? This is not a joke. Listen to what I'm saying."

I tried to think, but nothing happened. Then the door opened and Billy came out. "There you are, Bro," he snickered. "You better let me help you." He took the cellphone from me, put my arm around his shoulder, and I passed out.

My head hurt like hell, and there was a bitter taste in my mouth. I raised my head only to bump into the tree behind me. "Oww!"

"Well, well, looks like that dose of roofie I gave you is wearing off faster than the first one," Billy muttered. "The last time I was afraid I'd killed you, so I cut way back." He shrugged his shoulders. "Actually, I'd have preferred it if you'd kept sleeping, but, oh well."

I shook my head to clear it, then tried to stand. That's when I realized I was sitting on the ground strapped to the tree behind me.

"Billy, what the hell is going on? Help me get free."

"I don't think so, Bro. I went to a lot of trouble to get you here."

"I don't understand - what's happening?"

He walked over to stand in front of me, a sneer on his face. "So here's what's happening: you've been stricken by remorse about what you did to Helen, so you came out to the woods where you killed her. You know they're going to convict you, so there's only one way out. You're going to take this gun" - he held up an automatic in his gloved hand - "and blow your brains out. It doesn't get much simpler than that."

I stared at him in disbelief. "You were the one who killed Helen!"

He laughed. "I'd been wanting a piece of your wife's fine ass for a long time, Bro. I've been following her to that club, and I saw how hot she looked when she was dancing. So when you came whining to me that Friday about her going out with her slut friend Nancy, I knew just where they'd be. Then it was a simple matter to drug you, take your sorry ass home, slip on your work boots, then drive your car to Singles and Doubles. When I got there, Nancy was just leaving with some pussy hound. That left the door open for me to approach your loving wife, threaten to tell you all about her whoring around, and get her out to the car. One little love tap and she was out like a light. When I got her out in the woods, I decided if she wanted to spread it around there was no reason why I shouldn't knock off a piece too. Bro, you should have seen the panties that slut had on. She was planning to get laid, no doubt about it. So I helped myself, and it was fine, let me tell you. But afterwards she woke up and started screaming, and I couldn't have that. So I shut her up - permanently."

I gasped in horror.

A big smile came over his face. "Truth is, I knew that was what was gonna happen all along. That's why I set it up so you'd be the one to take the fall. Looks like I did a pretty good job of it, too."

"But you helped me. You agreed to put the plant up to raise bail."

"Why not? I wanted everyone to see what a loyal brother I was. Besides, I knew you weren't going anywhere."

I was stunned at the transformation I was witnessing, and horrified at the story he told me. All the while I was listening to him, I was desperately trying to think of a way out of this mess. "Listen, Billy, help me get these straps off and we'll figure out something. You know that suicide idea will never convince anyone. I can't shoot myself tied up like this."

"No, you can't," he snickered, "but I can do it for you."

"No, Billy, it will be obvious what happened."

"I got that all figured out. After I put a bullet through your temple, I'll just unwrap all this strapping so they won't find any marks on your body, then put the gun in your hand and fire a second shot off in the distance. They'll find you with the gun in your hand and powder burns on your fingers. With all that evidence, I don't think they'll even wonder why you didn't leave a note."

His face turned hard. "Enough talking, Bro. It's time to finish this."

"Wait, Billy. At least tell me why."

"Why? Do you really have to ask? All my life I've been the little brother, the after-thought, second best. You were Dad's favorite - I was the disappointment. You were the star quarterback, I was on the second team. You got your MBA, I had to settle for technical school."

Now he was pacing back in front of me, his anger building by the second. "I thought maybe things would get better once I got out of school, but if anything they got worse. When Dad left the business to us, Mr. I've-got-my-MBA became the president, and I had to settle for working in the plant."

"Billy, you're vice-president of operations!"

"Shut up!" he yelled. "Everybody knows who was in charge, and it wasn't me." Then his voice got low and ugly. "And when it came to women, you always had your pick. And who did you choose to marry? Just the hottest girl in the school. When you'd bring her around for the holidays, I used to go to bed and beat off thinking about her. Why couldn't I have someone like that? Why did you have to suck up all the attention, all the recognition?"

He shook his head as if throwing off a bad thought. "But all that changes tonight, Bro. You're gonna become a memory. But don't worry: they won't forget you. They'll remember you as the piece of shit who raped and murdered his hot wife when he found out what a cheating slut she was. They won't know whether to laugh or cry when they think about you. And I'll be the only one who knows the truth."

"Not the only one, Billy. Police Department - drop your gun!"

We both looked up in amazement to see the slim shape of Nora Marshall step from behind a big maple, her Glock held in both hands and centered on Billy's chest.

To my astonishment, Billy's voice changed tone completely. "No, no, Detective, you've got it all wrong. I followed Mickey out here and discovered he really was the killer. He came here to destroy some evidence. I captured him, and I was just about to call you guys."

"Uh-huh," she said evenly. Then she turned to her right. "Patrolman Jenkins, was the voice recorder on your bodycam working?"

A uniformed cop stepped out from behind another huge old tree. "Yes ma'am. I got every word of it."

The detective turned back toward us. "Billy Duncan, you're under arrest for rape and murder. Now drop that gun and put your hands behind your head."

"Okay, okay, you win," Billy said, and started to raise his hands. Suddenly he jumped toward me, dropped to one knee and fired off a shot at the patrolman. The officer went down, and as he swiveled toward Nora, I bent my knees and lashed out with both feet, catching him on his hip. Off balance, he sprawled on the ground. With an angry howl he sat up and raised the gun in my direction, but before he could pull the trigger, a shot rang out, catching him in the back and knocking him to one side. He groaned and shuddered, then lay still.

Nora came running over, her gun leveled at Billy the whole time. As soon as she reached him, she prodded him in the back with her foot. When he didn't move, she stepped on the wrist of his gun hand, pinning the weapon to the ground. He still didn't move, so she bent down and carefully pulled it out of his fingers. Then she came over to me.

"Are you okay?" she asked breathlessly.

"I think so."

She handed Billy's gun to me. "Keep an eye on him. I need to go help Jenkins."

Then she was gone into the shadows. I sat watching the blood ooze out of Billy's back. He never moved.

A gasp came from the trees, and I looked up to see Nora helping Jenkins walk toward me. "Damn, I feel like I've been kicked by a mule!" he groaned.

Her grin was more relief than humor. "Just think how you'd feel if you hadn't been wearing your vest." Then she was on her phone, calling for support. Once she heard they were in route, she came over and began untying the straps that bound me to the tree. "I really didn't think he'd resist." I could feel her hand shaking. "That was quick thinking the way you kicked him."

"I just reacted - didn't have time to think." Then it hit me. "How did you know to find us here?"

She smiled. "I've been keeping an eye on you ever since you got out on bail."

"Oh. So you really thought I'd done it."

The smile grew broader. "No, I was pretty sure you weren't guilty. I've seen wife killers before - and you didn't act like one. Even when we got the DNA match, I still had doubts."

"Hey!" I slapped my forehead. "You need to talk to Max, my lawyer. He found out something was wrong with your DNA test."

She shrugged her shoulders apologetically. "I'm sorry about that. When the match came back positive, we never thought about the possibility that your brother would have almost identical DNA."

I looked back at Billy's body lying crumpled on the dirt. That seemed right: even in the end, he was still an after-thought.

I was making slow progress getting the house the way I wanted it to look. It had taken me forever to get all of Helen's clothes and shoes packed up. I had to rent a van to haul it all to the Goodwill store. The same for all the tchotchkes and knickknacks she'd bought. Maybe someone else would like them - not me.

There weren't all that many photographs, but they'd taken even longer for me to go through. I didn't really want any reminders lying around, but how much of your past life do you want to erase? And that was just the photos with Helen in them - what should I do about all the shots of Billy and me? Finally, I just boxed everything up and hauled them up to the attic. I'll decide about them some other time.

Just as I got downstairs, the doorbell rang, and when I opened it, I was surprised to see Detective Marshall standing there. "Come in, come in," I urged her, and she hesitantly came to take a seat in my living room.

"Is everything okay?" I asked. "There's nothing . . ."

"No, no," she said hastily. "It's not that at all. I just came by to bring these to you." With that she reached into her purse and pulled out Helen's wedding rings.

She shook her head. "Billy had them in his pocket. He must have taken them from Helen when he, well, you know. Anyway, we think he was going to plant them on you as more proof you'd killed her." She gave a little smile. "I thought you might want them back."

"Thanks, Nora. You didn't have to go to all that trouble. Actually, I'm not sure what I want to do with them. I've been going through Helen's things, purging everything I didn't want to keep. You understand."

She nodded. Then she stood up abruptly. "Well, I've taken enough of your time, so I'll let you get back to your work."

I stood too, feeling like I should say something, but not certain what that was.

She hesitated and then seemed to make a decision. She opened her purse again, reached in and pulled out a small rectangle of paper. Stepping forward, she placed it in my hand. "Here's my card with my number on it. If you ever want to ask me anything - anything at all - just call me." She looked at me intently, then turned and walked out the door.

I stood there confused. She already gave me one of her cards. And she told me everything had been cleared up.

I stepped to the window and watched her walk to her car. She really was a good-looking woman. I looked at the card in my hand again and smiled, then put her card in my wallet. I need to keep this safe.