Freaky Farland had begged Drayco on the phone to come see him. Drayco considered checking on the man yesterday to see how he was holding up but instead had to drive up to D.C. for quick meetings with his client, Matthew Laessig, and Detective Zeke Skiles. Skiles was so ecstatic to have wrapped up the wheelchair murders case, he didn’t even mind working on a Sunday.
That meant Freaky had an intervening day to worry about his son. And now that Drayco was facing Freaky one-on-one early on this humid Monday morning, there were no signs of the facial tics or the man lost in shadows from Drayco’s last visit. He looked as ready to pounce on Drayco as Shoggoth on a mouse. “I want to confess,” he said.
“Confess?”
“I’m the one who should be in jail, not my son. I killed Beth and Arnold Sterling, and I tried to kill Virginia.”
Shoggoth kept his distance this time as if accusing Drayco of Barry’s absence. Drayco said, “Okay, so you killed the Sterlings. Why?”
“I hated Arnold because I loved Beth. And Beth, well, she rejected me. And there was that money Beth was paying me. It was pity money for my accident. And I despised her for it.”
This was the third version Freaky had provided for the reason behind Beth’s payments and the least convincing yet. “So why target Virginia, Mr. Farland?”
“The money, the Will. Barry didn’t know, but I did. Beth told me years ago.”
“Did you know how much money was involved?”
“A bundle. She won the lottery.”
“How would you define a bundle?”
Freaky hesitated. “I don’t know the details. Five to ten million, give or take.”
For a man with a violent rap sheet, Freaky was a lousy liar. He quickly recovered from his hesitation and volunteered, “And I was the one who Barry bought the alcohol for that day. Barry doesn’t drink, but I do.”
“So where did you buy the beer?”
Freaky waved his hand in the air but didn’t correct Drayco about the beer being gin. “I don’t remember, some place up in Maryland.”
“You were at the celebration when Virginia was pushed into the bay. Is that why you went?”
“Why else? Everyone knows I don’t get out much.”
“So where did you get the cherry bombs?”
Freaky wrinkled his forehead. Then, as he realized what Drayco was asking, he replied, “I bought them. At one of those roadside fireworks stands.”
“Which one? I’m sure the sheriff would love to get his hands on the owner of that stand.”
Despite Freaky’s first-hand experience with a pipe bomb, it was obvious he was not an explosives expert. He didn’t know cherry bombs were illegal in the state, and no roadside stand would sell them. He also didn’t correct Drayco over the cherry bombs used at the waterfront being M80 firecrackers.
Freaky said, “That stand is gone. One of those temporary things for the Fourth.”
“Mr. Farland, you once told me you didn’t know Cole Harston. Until after you met Virginia. What about the pipe bomb he made for you, the one you used on Arnold Sterling?”
Freaky was at a loss for words. He looked to Shoggoth as if pleading for guidance. The cat merely closed its eyes. “Okay, I lied to you, I admit. It was to protect Lucy and Virginia. Wasn’t anything they had to know.”
The first glimmer of truth. “Why did Cole help you in the first place?”
“Told him I wanted to learn how to rig explosives like him. So I could get a job in construction. He showed me how to make a pipe bomb.”
“And the real reason you wanted the device?”
Farland chewed the inside of his cheek. He reached for a glass of water, but his hand shook. He snatched it back and folded both hands together. “I didn’t intend to kill Arnold. Guess I knew in the back of my mind it could happen. If the bomb went off at the right moment, it would just mess him up. And Beth wouldn’t love him anymore.”
“You mean, disfigure him?”
Freaky nodded. Drayco couldn’t begin to imagine what it was like for Freaky to look at himself in the mirror each day since, seeing the very face staring back at him he hoped Arnold would have. And now—no wife, no Beth, and not much of a life.
Best not to dwell on this truthful confession but work around to the false one. “So your knowledge of cars came in handy in rigging Arnold’s and Beth’s accidents?”
“Sure, I’m the one who taught Barry about cars.”
“Can you tell me exactly how you did it?”
Farland folded his arms across his chest. “The sheriff has the details. He could tell you.”
So Barry actually hadn’t told his father what he discovered about both cars. “Mr. Farland, I know you’re upset over Barry’s arrest. I am too. Offering yourself up as a sacrificial lamb isn’t going to help matters and could make things worse. Nothing is certain in life, but I’ll do my best to prove Barry didn’t commit those crimes.”
All the tension Freaky was storing in his body deflated like a punctured tire. “I don’t have a lot of money, Mr. Drayco. But I want to hire you. Officially. To prove Barry didn’t do it.”
“That might be tricky since I’m working for Lucy and Virginia Harston. If it turns out Barry is involved ...”
“He wasn’t.” Freaky pulled out his wallet and peeked into it. Only a few small bills. “I’ll write you a check,” Freaky said.
Drayco reached over and pulled out a one dollar bill. “Legal tender has now exchanged hands. You are officially a client, and I’ll do what I can to free Barry. When I leave here, I’ll go talk to him at the jail.” Right after a little trip to Haffey’s Auto Body shop.
As Drayco got up to leave, Shoggoth hopped off his perch and rubbed around Drayco’s ankles. That beast had an uncanny way of acting like he knew what was going on.