Chapter Forty-One
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
“It was a lot more relaxing to confront the killer with Teague and the deputies next door.”
I stretched contentedly on the big upholstered chair in Clara and Ned’s living room. Teague was at the sheriff’s department starting the paperwork Clara and I never had to bother with. Another plus to being amateurs.
He did hope to be done in time for our New Year’s Eve celebration tomorrow evening.
In the meantime, we were bringing Ned up to speed.
“We had deputies all over the place,” Clara said.
Ned half rolled his eyes, but didn’t argue.
“And it all started with Sheila asking herself the What If question,” Clara told her husband.
“What if what?” he obligingly asked.
“What if we looked at everything from the premise that Dova wasn’t the selfless second spouse standing by her man and raising his child? What if what happened was what she’d wanted to happen. Had worked to make happen. Had killed to make happen.”
“Wait,” Clara ordered. “Before you explain details to Ned, tell us both how you got there. Like where trust me comes in.”
After giving Ned the background on that, I added, “It occurred to me that Dova telling Robbie over and over that it was the two of them against the world was a form of trust me . Another variant was when she told him she’d take care of everything.
She indoctrinated him in the belief that she was the only person he could trust.
“She cut him off from his father, his paternal grandparents, his maternal family. It’s a miracle he stepped out of that cocoon and opened up to Mamie.”
“A boy’s teenage hormones are a powerful force,” Ned muttered.
Clara grinned and bumped her shoulder against his.
“Ruby primed me for that What If about Dova. Not knowing what kind Dova was threw Ruby, because she recognized it at some level.”
“Recognized what?”
“That she didn’t know what kind Dova is because Dova doesn’t let anybody know. She also talked about Dova moving mountains with smiles. And that made me think of a quote. One may smile, and smile, and be a villain.”
“Shakespeare?” Clara asked.
I nodded as I sipped my wine.
“You think Ruby knew it was Shakespeare?” Ned asked.
I lifted a shoulder. “Didn’t need to know the name to recognize an acute observation.”
Clara sighed deeply. Ned put his hand on her leg, reassuring even before she said, “I should have paid attention to my instinct. That thing with her mouth.”
After she explained that to Ned, Clara added, “The landline was another way to pull away from Derrick.
To isolate him. From his son, from his parents, and from her.
Visiting herself enough to keep him placated, stringing him along with the false promise of a new appeal.
She controlled all the information to him and all the information about him.
“Until that accident last year. That’s when things started to get out of her control.
Emil going to see him, without her being around to spin whatever Emil said.
The preacher who started the ball rolling on the compassionate release.
It gave Derrick a new perspective, got him thinking about what had happened—”
“And what hadn’t. Like the appeal,” Ned said.
“Exactly. Without Dova, Derrick saw things. Beverly said she confronted him at the hospice center about keeping his parents and son away while he was in prison—”
“But he didn’t say anything,” I inserted.
“No, but Beverly said he appeared taken aback. I assumed he was taken aback by his doting mother criticizing him, but his reaction also fit him not keeping them away. Because Dova did the keeping apart. Another lie. So many lies,” Clara said.
“Her lying was part of the pattern, too. When we were talking with Robbie and Mamie the first time in that little sitting area and she arrived and said, Oh, I didn’t know you were all here.”
“A lie?” Ned asked.
“An unnecessary lie,” Clara elaborated. “I didn’t believe it at the time, but I never attached significance to it.”
“Me, either. It was inconsequential, so she hadn’t put much effort into it. But later, when I started to question things, it was also revelatory, because lying was her default response.”
“How could so many of us have believed her for so long?” Clara asked.
“She had a couple major advantages. First, her image as the generous, perfect mom to Robbie. I passed off a couple of her untruths as protecting him. And then there’s the more general advantage. Most people’s baseline is to believe that other people are telling the truth.”
I shared what I’d learned from Kit.
“She calls it the liar’s advantage. Once one lie is accepted, the person being lied to will perform mental gymnastics to reject evidence contrary to what they’ve accepted.”
“Because the person being lied to is gullible.” From Clara’s wrinkled nose, she put herself in that category.
“Not necessarily gullible. Think how many interactions a day you have with people, including strangers, and they are telling the truth — the day is cold, they truly didn’t mean to cut in front of you in line, the street you’re looking for is around the corner.
“The bigger problem is not recognizing the lie afterward. We can have so much invested in the liar — time, love, faith, hope — they become part of our identity, so accepting that they’re not worthy of our trust scrapes against our self-esteem.
It’s easier cognitively to disbelieve the evidence than it is to disbelieve the person we’ve believed in. ”
“But Robbie did,” Ned said. “Smart kid. And brave.”
After nodding, I said, “I’d guess he started to disbelieve in corners of his mind well before this. But maybe he couldn’t let it come to the surface until he had Mamie in his life.”
“I wonder how long Mamie would have been for this world?’
Clara’s eyes popped wide. “ Ned.”
“What? You think I can’t have suspicions, too?”
“Of course I don’t think that,” she said loyally. “And you’re absolutely right. She would have been a threat.”
That quieted all of us for a moment.
Then Clara exhaled sharply. “I thought it would help Robbie to know his father didn’t kill his mother. But now the poor kid has to deal with knowing the woman who raised him killed his birth mother. And his father.”
No denying that truth.
This sigh from her seemed to come from her toes. “Maybe we should have left this alone. Maybe in trying to help, we — I — made it worse. Because I was the one who pushed you.”
“You didn’t have to push hard. Besides, Teague encouraged us, too. No, I think we have to look at it as the truth coming out being better all around, including for Robbie. Eventually.”