“Hollis’s theory is he didn’t want to hit us up for huge sums of money right off the bat. He thinks the twenty-five grand is a down payment, which is one more reason not to shell it out. Anyway, I should probably let you see it before we go on. The video player’s in the library.”
I got up and followed as she led the way down the hall. We passed a spacious dining room and I caught a glimpse of the state-of-the-art kitchen through an open door on the far wall. The library was on a smaller scale, intimate when compared to the public rooms. The walls were lined with dark walnut and the floor-to-ceiling shelves were filled with a mix of books and art objects, tastefully arranged. There was the requisite antique desk and on one wall an entertainment center, which housed not only the TV but various pieces of electronic equipment, among them a VCR machine. A comfortable array of chairs was oriented toward the television screen. I could picture Lauren and her husband watching the nightly news with their evening cocktails.
Lauren popped the tape in the VCR and picked up the remote control, pressing Play and then Pause in rapid succession. As soon as she determined the tape was ready, she handed me the remote. “You’ll think it’s going on forever, but it’s only four minutes. I’ll be in the kitchen when you’re done. At the time, Iris was a freshman at Climping Academy and in trouble constantly. You should also be aware that Poppy and Troy were girlfriend-boyfriend until Poppy found out he and Iris had been intimate. The word ‘intimate’ really shouldn’t apply when they behaved badly in front of witnesses while being taped.”
“I understand your point.”
She hesitated. “To be honest, when I saw the tape ten years ago, I was perfectly willing to let Fritz suffer the consequences. Then Sloan was killed and he went to prison for his part in her death. Now that he’s free, my attitude has changed. I’m still angry about what he did, but I’m ambivalent about punishment. He’s paid enough and I don’t see what good it would do if he were sent back.”
As soon as she disappeared down the hall, I pressed Play. Even assuming the tape had serious implications, I was unprepared for the contents, which were alternately vulgar and violent. The opening was benign: two adolescent boys fresh from a swim, drinking beer and smoking dope. The scene appeared to have been filmed in a basement recreation room with a bar, bar stools, and a pool table that came into play partway through the tape. I assumed the younger of the two was Fritz McCabe. The more mature-looking kid, who had a head of dark red hair in a buzz cut, I assumed was Troy Rademaker.
A very young girl appeared, wrapped in a towel and her hair wet, chugging down a beer. Fritz passed her the joint and then poured her a large glass of gin from a bottle on the bar. There was horseplay, and at one point, the scene jumped forward in time. When the tape picked up, the girl was sprawled on the sofa, inebriated and slurring her words. She appealed to “Austin,” who was out of camera range, begging him for a kiss. There was a quick cutaway to the infamous Austin Brown, incongruously outfitted in a sport coat and tie. He was seated in an upholstered chair, legs flung over the arm as he leafed through a magazine, apparently indifferent to the scene being played out in front of him. I hit Pause and studied him. He had a face I’d have associated with nobility if I’d known anyone noble: lean and honed and arrogant. I knew I’d been influenced by Jonah’s account of him, but I felt myself recoiling all the same. I could easily imagine his lording it over his pals, his detachment marking him as superior.
The girl said, “Pretty please?”
He appeared to be bored. “No way. I’m the director, not a bit player. I’m the guy in charge.”
“The auteur,” Troy interjected.
“Right. The mastermind,” Austin said with a glance at her. “Besides, you look like you’re doing well enough on your own.”
Her reply came from off camera. “Party pooper. You’re no fun.”
The view jumped to Fritz and Troy, now naked and aroused, engaged in an ongoing sexual assault on the same girl, who was by then inert and unresponsive, drunk or stoned or both. I couldn’t help but notice that the redheaded boy had pubic hair to match. I don’t apologize for the observation as I’m trained in such matters; a paid professional. The boys’ antics were painful to watch because I could see that it must have seemed like a game to them. They were having a good time being studs, too self-involved to be aware of the significance of their actions, which were clearly criminal. Both would be held accountable by law if the tape reached the DA’s office. The extortionist’s threat put the McCabes in an untenable position. If they paid the twenty-five-thousand-dollar demand, they risked being on the hook for life. If they went to the police in hopes of bypassing the blackmailer, then Fritz and his friend Troy would end up charged with rape, sexual assault, and god knows what else. As nearly as I remembered, aggravated rape has no statute of limitations.
I was assuming Iris was unaware of what had been done to her or, at any rate, had never filed a complaint. If she’d taken legal action back then, the criminal or civil suit would have been decided and the threat neutralized. I could picture the boys boasting of their sexual conquest, probably blaming Iris for being promiscuous and therefore deserving of their treatment. In their minds, it must have seemed like a prank, something to boost their manly prowess in the eyes of their pals. I’d heard of similar situations, where still photographs of a sexual assault had been circulated among the perpetrators’ friends. What possessed anyone to record such vile behavior was beyond me.
I became aware of Lauren, who’d entered the room behind me, watching the last fifteen seconds of the tape. I showed no emotional reaction. As horrific as the tape was, it would be unprofessional to express repulsion or disapproval. Medical personnel follow the same code of conduct, not responding with shrieks of horror and disgust when symptoms of your sexually transmitted disease first surface during your pelvic examination.
I said, “I take it the older boy is Troy Rademaker.”
“Yes. He ended up driving the vehicle the night Sloan was killed.”
“You have any idea whether he’s received a similar demand?”
“I don’t think he has money, so there wouldn’t be much point.”
“What about the camera operator?”
“I believe it was Bayard Montgomery, another friend of Fritz’s. Hollis was working for Bayard’s father at the time. Tigg Montgomery died a year later.”
“When all of this was still going on?”
“During the boys’ trial, but before sentencing. He was spared much of it since he was so sick.”
“Cancer?”