Bury the Dead: 6

Ollie Clark—Saturday, June 22, 2019

There was a rental car parked at the curb, like Len Wilcox didn’t want to presume and use the driveway. Even though Cindy and Dad went through this whole complicated thing so he could meet Len Wilcox at the airport, hang around once Cindy dropped him off, and then wait for Len Wilcox to pick up the rental so he wasn’t without transportation during his stay. That meant Dad would’ve been in the car with Len Wilcox on the way back, so maybe Dad was the one who told him to park at the side of the road?

Ollie really didn’t want to get to know the guy well enough that she didn’t think of him as both names, like his byline.

Eli turned off the car but paused before taking the key out of the ignition. “Maybe Jared didn’t know.”

Ollie shrugged miserably. He’d never said anything to her, and she’d never ventured it herself.

“What if, um …” He licked his lips and shook his head, bringing it out without looking over at her: “What if it wasn’t his?”

“I don’t know.” There was a lot she didn’t know, and would never know, because someone decided to come to South Range with a shotgun and murder the two Clark women. Someone who might not even have known who they were. That was why Kelly made so much sense: he did the incomprehensible and randomly shot strangers when they came to answer their doors after dark. Who did that?

Well. Kelly. And at least one other person, because Birdy and Mom were both dead.

Eli took a slow breath and shook his head decisively. “I’m not asking him. If he’s gone this long and never said anything …”

Ollie nodded.

He blinked and seemed to realize he was still in the car with her sitting next to him. Eli quickly switched his keys to his left hand so his right could reach for hers. “Sorry. I just … I’d never thought of it before.”

She squeezed back.

“Shall we get this over with?”

Ollie could use some more sitting out here, thanks, but she nodded and unclipped her seatbelt.

They both left their shoes in the mudroom, Ollie’s flats and Eli’s sneakers, next to a pair of brown leather things that clearly didn’t belong. Ollie wasn’t really sure what wingtips were, but this pair had some fancy bits on them, and they might’ve been polished that morning as Len Wilcox waited in the Chicago airport.

“Here we are!” Dad boomed from the next room, gesturing at the new arrivals as though he hadn’t seen either of them in weeks … and they were both lovingly welcome. “Len, this is Ollie and Eli.”

The little author photos didn’t really convey Len Wilcox’s size. Ollie was used to Jared sitting at the kitchen table, but there was a difference between his shoulders in plaid and t-shirts and Len Wilcox’s in a freaking dress shirt, light blue with white collar and cuffs. Ollie didn’t think he was actually taller and broader than Jared, but ye gods. Add to that the brown braided belt, which of course went with the brown leather shoes in the mud room, and the khakis—with pleats on the front, if you please—and sheesh. Len Wilcox did not belong in this room at her parents’ kitchen table, and that weird little beard that looked like he forgot to shave two mornings in a row didn’t help.

“Ollie.” Even his voice was too big for the room. It was deep, and should have been warm, but it bounced back too quickly. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

Eli got a nod.

Well. Ollie guessed Len Wilcox had heard a lot about him, too, but she just smiled and let Eli gesture her into one of the chairs. The one directly across from the reporter. So. Thanks, Eli.

“Listen, I’m …” Len Wilcox brushed his hair back from his forehead and leaned on the table to lock eyes intently with her. “I’m really sorry about this news. I was supposed to be here because it was solved, all done and buttoned up, but …” His blue eyes, professionally soft, looked to Eli.

Eli smiled almost easily, but Ollie noticed his eyes didn’t sparkle. “That’s all right. I wasn’t planning on going on the record with you, anyway.”

Len Wilcox matched the smile, sans sparkle. “I’m sure it’s not all right, but …”

Ah, yes: the silence. Most people didn’t do well with silence and rushed to fill it. This was a technique used by investigative reporters wherever they met their subjects, detectives in interrogation rooms, and high school teachers in the classroom. Ollie fixed her face into a benign expression that wasn’t quite a smile and just waited along with the reporter.

“Olls, Len would still really like to talk to you.” Dad had never done well with silence although, when this house held both Mom and Birdy, it was a rare occurrence. “Cindy’s already agreed.”

Okay, and where was Cindy? Did she decide this was a good time to do laundry? To fold each piece ever so carefully so everything stacked up perfectly?

“I would love to hear your perspective.” God, did people really fall for this? Was it an ace thing that made her immune? The way Harper joked that old time sailing ships should’ve had sailors on the asexual spectrum because they wouldn’t fall victim to sirens. Len used body language that was meant to be … not open, exactly, but receptive, and his eyes basically demanded she look back at him. “Daughter and sister … you knew them the way no one else did.”

Eli’s hand snuck back to her thigh and this time just rested there, and that made it easier to smile. “You’ve talked to Kendra and Liza and Corrie, hey?”

“I have, yes.” Len Wilcox blinked and smiled, but it was clear she’d gone off his mental script. “Even, uh … Bobbi. Kendra’s mom. But that’s not the same. It doesn’t … well.” He stopped himself, smiling almost indulgently.

Dad grinned and pointed at him. “Tell her. He’s got this thing,” he added to Ollie, like Eli wasn’t even there, “where people are onstage and he’s trying to light them up from all angles. So if he’s missing one, it’s not a full picture.”

“You took the words right out of my mouth. And the point, of course, is that sure, they were her friends, and Randy was her dad, but no one else was her sister. No one has your perspective.”

Ollie dropped her hand to Eli’s and carefully wrapped her fingers around his. “No, thank you.”

The two men across the table blinked like she’d never said that before. “Kiddo,” Randy began in the voice he used to use when she was small and acting out in public as though none of the other adults would realize his tone.

“It’s really not going to be complete without you,” Len Wilcox added, and this was an appeal meant to guilt her.

Great. Okay. “Look, Mr. Wilcox, I’m sorry to be the one to say this, but we’re not in your book anymore. My mom and my sister aren’t in your book anymore. Your book’s about Sean Kelly, and Sean Kelly didn’t kill them.”

“That doesn’t mean I can’t devote the same time and care to them as to the other victims.”

There were too many possible responses there. Wouldn’t including them diminish the other victims? Weren’t her mom and sister more than just victims? And wasn’t his book, like all true crime books, actually about Sean Kelly, the killer? “I said no thank you, Mr. Wilcox. I know the offer’s open, and I promise to let you know if I change my mind, but my answer is no.”

Now Dad gave her that look that meant she was being outright rude and should apologize immediately, but Len Wilcox actually put his hand on Dad’s arm. “It’s fine,” he reassured him, like he knew he had to intervene on Ollie’s behalf. “Not everyone’s comfortable talking to a stranger. We have plenty of time to get to know each other.” Unspoken: Because anyone who gets to know me can’t help but talk.

The front door opened, blowing Cindy in on the sound of laughter. “Sorry, sorry,” she called, slipping out of her crocs and picking them up so she could carry them back to the mudroom. “The Halttunnens were out and I couldn’t get out of the conversation. What did I miss?”

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Interview excerpts, Len Wilcox with Agatha Grace, May 23, 2019

LW: Can you start by telling me how you’re connected to the Clarks?

AG: Even though I …?

LW: I only just started recording.

AG: Oh, right. Sorry. I was good friends with Evelyn Clark. Randy’s mom. We went to the same church.

LW: And what did you want to tell me about Randy?

AG: Well, that it’s ironic, really. Both his girls dating the Chapman boys. Because when Randy was little, he was a hellion. Can I say that?

LW: If you’d like to say it, you certainly can.

AG: Then I do want to. Randy Clark was a little hellion. He ran that household since before he could talk. As a baby he’d wrinkle up his face and Evie jumped. If he got enough breath to start screaming, you’d know she’d had a long night. That was slow. He didn’t talk for the longest time because all he had to do was look at her and she’d run the list. Hungry? Thirsty? Cold? He’d just point and she’d jump. Toivo never had to lift a finger because Evie was always there. And it put a strain on their marriage, let me tell you. Did you ever wonder why Randy was an only child? She used to jump for Toivo, but then he got demoted. Second banana. And that man needed to be the only banana.

LW: How do you mean?

AG: He’d stay out. He’d drink. He wouldn’t come home until after the baby was in bed—that’s what he always called Randy: the baby—and then he’d take it out on Evie. She’d be tired, of course, running after the toddler all day, and then … well, she never said anything to me, but she wore dark glasses and long sleeves. Makeup. It wasn’t good. Toivo kept drinking until that one night when he tried walking home from the bar, went out into the snowstorm, and didn’t make it. They found him frozen out there by the baseball diamond. No idea how or why he crossed the highway, but he did. And then Evie and little Randy were left alone.

LW: She never remarried?

AG: Oh gosh no. She had Randy. Who else would she need?

LW: Did Randy date in high school?

AG: Pshaw, of course not. Not until Evie had her stroke. That’s when Wendy started being around, you know. She helped Evie. She wanted to be a nurse. Wendy. That’s why she was helping Evie. But of course she was a pretty girl, and she was around a lot, and she was probably the only girl Randy ever spoke to. He was a good-looking kid, but his mother, you know? He’d get in trouble. She’d lecture him about syphilis and getting some trollop pregnant. Which is what he did, of course. She was at least four months along when they got married. Maybe five. But Evie was dead by then. Another stroke. Probably caused when she learned her son got the little nurse in a family way.

LW: They were married for twenty years.

AG: They were. That’s the surprise. No one thought it would last. She quit school, he had a terrible job … but he got a better one. Evie owned the house, at least, so they had somewhere to stay. Somewhere to start. They moved out when the girls were small. I don’t know why they picked the one they did, with only two bedrooms when they had the two babies and clearly could’ve gotten another one just as fast, but I don’t think they wanted to be in Evie’s house anymore. He always said it was Wendy who wanted out, who wanted to be the mistress of her own house instead of the crown princess to Queen Elizabeth, but I don’t think that was true.

LW: Oh?

AG: Young man, I think that’s gossip.

LW: I haven’t found many people willing to talk about Wendy.

AG: Many? Or any?

LW: I’m sorry. I can’t get into specifics.

AG: My bet would be “any.” Wendy wasn’t a church girl. And she was alone—you know about the accident.

LW: Yes.

AG: A blessing. Her parents never knew about the bun. Olive. She turned into such a wonderful young woman. It’s a surprise, really.

LW: Because of how her parents met?

AG: Because of who their parents were. How they’d all grown up. Incest, in Wendy’s case. And that’s not gossip. It’s a sad truth. And why she was so quick to jump in the sack with Randy, who probably didn’t even know what he was doing. He was that naïve. But a flower always knows how to get bees.

LW: Pardon?

AG: That girl knew what she was doing. She put out the birdseed and brought out the cage.

LW: I’m sorry?

AG: Honestly. It’s not a nice thing to say, but she wasn’t a nice girl. She wanted to keep him, and she knew how.

LW: Ah. Wendy got pregnant on purpose so he’d marry her.

AG: Yes, exactly. That’s what I said. And he was an honorable man, even if he’d been a brat, so he stayed married to her. Was a wonderful father to his girls. Even though Birdy took after her mother. That Chapman boy got off lucky, all things considered. It wasn’t nice, what happened to them, but some women live dangerous lifestyles.

LW: As a married woman?

AG: To be perfectly blunt, Mr. Wilcox, a ring doesn’t block a hole.

LW: Wendy wasn’t faithful in her marriage?

AG: Yes, of course. I don’t know how much clearer I can be.

LW: I see.

AG: The babies didn’t make her grow up. He grew up—Randy. He bought the new house to try to make his pretty young wife happy, and he did all he could for the girls. Worked those jobs. Those hours. Broke his back for the women, and the only one who ever appreciated it was Olive. She tried to be the perfect girl for him. Which wasn’t easy in that house, let me tell you. Not with those other examples. And we worried, all of us, when she started going with the other Chapman boy, but he wasn’t dragging her down. It seemed like it was going well. Like one of the Clark girls was going to grow up properly, and settle down, and make a life for herself. But then the other two got killed, the Chapman boy got himself arrested, and … well.

LW: Well?

AG: They should have married years ago, shouldn’t they? Married, and settled down, and started a family. I hear they’re finally going to do it, that they’ve picked a date in December, but … sometimes things come too late. There are moments you can’t get back, no matter how much you waste your time trying.

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Bury the Dead 7 – coming April 7