Ollie Clark—Saturday, June 29, 2019
This time Len Wilcox only opened up the cabin door enough to look out at them, body blocking the gap in case they tried to barge in. He didn’t say anything, and neither did Ollie and Eli. Eli just handed over a folded piece of paper.
The chain was still over the door, and Len left it like that while he opened the paper, skimmed it, and his eyes went back to the top to go more slowly this time. They’d typed it and printed it at Johanna’s office since it wasn’t like Eli owned a printer and they didn’t want to have something like this done at the library or somewhere public. Plus it meant it had Johanna’s stamp of approval, which was both comforting because Ollie had someone to blame if things went wrong, and also troubling because she put everything in Johanna’s, and therefore Len’s, hands.
Len held up a finger, closed the door, and opened it again without the chain so they could come in. “You’re going to let me write that you could understand how I concluded your dad was a murderer based on the interviews that you haven’t even read yet?”
“No, I’m going to let you write that …” Ollie pulled the paper so she could see it better. “I understand that outsiders don’t always get the full picture of what happens inside a family, and, since I never agreed to be interviewed by you, you didn’t have an insider’s perspective to work with.”
“Which very nicely ignores the fact that you had Randy’s perspective,” Eli pointed out.
“Yeah?” Len held up the paper. “This is you being nice?”
“It’s Ollie being nice. You don’t get anything from me.”
The reporter sighed and ran a hand over his hair. “I was only flirting with her for Randy’s sake, okay? Not that she’s not hot. Um.” Len closed his eyes and shook his head like that could rewind and record over reality. “I respect the established relationship and apologize for the deception used to help get Randy to incriminate himself.”
Eli chewed on his lower lip. “Might want to put that through another draft.”
“You’re not dealing with him,” Ollie told Len. “You’re dealing with me.”
“Right.” He looked at her. “Professionally. Completely. Promise.”
It wasn’t exactly an apology to her, the person he’d been ogling, but Johanna thought they needed Len, so Ollie let it go. “I’m giving you sort of a pass for thinking it was dad, and you get to point out that Jared only confessed because Dad was arrested, so you can loop it back to yourself that way.”
“You want to help me out, but you don’t want it to be about you.”
“Yeah. Is that a problem?”
“Well, it’s just, uh …” Len shifted his weight and looked to Eli and back again. “Most people really want their fifteen minutes.”
She shrugged. “It would be different if I got to choose which fifteen. Instead, someone killed my mom and sister, and that’s not the sort of boost into the spotlight I’m looking for. I’d rather have them here and nobody know my name, you know?”
Len licked his lips, which she interpreted as No, I don’t, but he nodded. “Can I use that? Reference the choosing your fifteen minutes thing?”
Ollie looked to Eli for input, and he shrugged. “It sets you up to say no to other interviews in the future.”
She nodded slowly. “Yeah, okay. You can use that.”
“Hang on.” Len turned to the dining table—this sort of cabin didn’t have a desk—and grabbed one of the pens on it to offer to her. “Put it in writing. Then we’re clear I can use it.”
Oh, so now he was super cautious? Johanna flashed through her mind again, though, so she tried to remember exactly what she said and ignore the fact that she was actually writing it down for posterity.
Len read it over, maybe to make sure her handwriting was clear, and nodded. “Okay. Thanks. Seriously—thank you. Because yeah, this is …” He sighed. “A mess. So this helps.”
Ollie shrugged and realized her arms were crossed protectively. “Thank me by getting everyone talking about it the right way.”
The reporter turned to Eli again. “Condemning your cousin.”
“He confessed. They found evidence.”
“In Randy’s house.”
Eli rubbed his chin and now it was his turn to look to Ollie for input. “The thing is, they showed us what they found. Pictures of what they found,” he corrected. “If … when … those get out, nobody will conclude Randy was the one who left it.”
“They told you not to talk about it?”
Eli frowned. “You know, they didn’t. God, that’s an amateur move, isn’t it? That guy—shit, I almost named him—came up from the basement and held up his iPad and gave us a slideshow. He wanted to see our initial reactions.”
“All three of us,” Ollie agreed. “Cindy was there, too.”
Len rubbed his fingers against his thumb like he was itching to take notes. “Presumably Jared told the police there was something in your dad’s basement, they found it, and they showed it to all three of you immediately. Showed pictures of it to all three of you.”
“Yep.”
He considered, then shook his head. “Damn. I’ll be excited to find out what that is. But I’ll get going on this, and something will be up soon, okay? Did you see the paper?”
“You already got a paper?”
Len turned back to the table and pulled out a section. “Hard to tell if he hates me or the police more, but he definitely took the ‘Jared lied to protect Randy’ angle.”
Eli shrugged. “Well, give him something else to hate.”
The reporter grimaced. “I really try not to write that way. Anger motivates some people, I guess, but I don’t think it’s sustainable.”
“What is sustainable?” Ollie wanted to know.
He shrugged. “I try to tell stories people want told. Things they’ve kept inside for so long and just want people to listen to.”
“Heh.” Ollie shook her head. “No wonder you really latched onto my dad.”
Phone call, Roger Porvoo and Randy Clark, June 19, 2019
RP: Mr. Clark. Thank you for taking my call.
RC: I only picked up to ask you to stop calling. Leave me and my wife alone.
RP: I just wanted to ask if you had any response to the newest, shall we say, “article” Len Wilcox has … “published.”
[silence]
RP: Mr. Clark? You still there?
RC: Yes.
RP: So, specifically, I’m looking at this quote that purports to be from your daughter.
RC: … yeah?
RP: Here, let’s see. “Everything Dad did was for us. He wanted to protect us. You never know what battles people are fighting.” Would you like to comment on that?
RC: … no.
RP: Are you sure? Because it’s out now that Birdy wasn’t your daughter, and Wendy was raped, and everyone’s putting their heads together and rewriting history, so … I mean, as the man at the center of it all …
RC: Stop calling me, Mr. Porvoo. Stop calling this number, stop calling my cell phone, stop calling my work, and stop calling any number related to my wife.
RP: I’m just saying, Mr. Clark, that this is the chance to get on top of—
[dial tone]
Bury the Dead 34 – coming May 4
Rebecca Frost 