Cebulka stared at me and momentarily ceased his labors above. Tracy said, "But Dr. Crockwell has done so much good for people. How can they do this to him?"
"Who else in the group might have wanted to hurt Paul?" I asked. "Or shoot Larry Bierly? It's not clear yet, but the two events might be connected."
Tracy perked up. "Tell him," she said, "about-what's-their-names? Those two guys."
Cebulka was twisting away again with one hand, attempting with the other to cut a hunk off the end of an egg roll, which appeared to have been manufactured from a shingle-like material.
"You mean Dean and Roland?" Gene said.
"Yeah."
He abandoned the egg roll. Tracy ignored hers. I sipped at my smooth soup.
Cebulka said, "There were two guys in the group named Roland Stover and Dean Moody. They were always pretty down on gays-very negative, if you know what I mean. Gays are sinners, et cetera. They always talked like that in the group. Then when the group ended last December, I thought, one good thing is, I'll never have to listen to their hot air again. But then, lo and behold, I ran into them-about a month ago, I think. Over at Pizza Hut. Tracy was even with me. I introduced her to those two bozos. Jeez."
I said, "They were together?"
"Yeah, their table was right near our booth. Dean had salad bar and Roland was eating off of it too, and I'll bet Dean went back three times if he went back once. I think it says right on a sign, no sharing. The waitress saw it too, but she never let on."
"And you spoke to them?"
"For a minute."
"What did they have to say?"
Cebulka shook his head, a complicated maneuver. "Roland said, did I hear about Paul Haig? And I said yes, wasn't that too bad. And then do you know what Roland said?"
"No."
"He said, 'Paul had it coming.' "
"That's all?"
"No. He said, 'He who lieth with another man shall be put to death.' And then Dean said, 'Larry should die too,' and something about if American civilization is going to survive, it has to purge itself of people like that."
I said, "But this condemnation didn't include you-or themselves, of course."
"No, why should it? We all had our certificates by that time."
"You were certified heterosexual?"
Cebulka nodded vigorously, and a good-sized clump of hair came out in his hand. We all looked at it.
After a moment Tracy said, "Gene has a scalp condition." Cebulka shrugged. "I guess it runs in the family. I have an uncle with the same condition." end user
13
I parted company with the Cebulkas around nine and headed back into Albany. I told them I might need to be in touch again and they said fine. Gene said next time I should bring the wife along. I let it go.
Following the revelation about Moody and Stover, not previously known to be a pair, I'd asked Cebulka about the session where Bierly and Haig had walked out of therapy amid a crossfire of recriminations. But Cebulka remembered the event only hazily and said Crockwell's outburst, while unusual, didn't have any lasting effects. After Haig and Bierly left, the group just picked up and proceeded without them.
Visiting hours at Albany Med were over, so I'd have to wait until morning to talk to Larry Bierly. I went home and called my machine. Nothing from Crockwell or Finnerty, but Phyllis Haig had left a minute's worth of breathy pauses and slurred imprecations.
While Timmy read a travel book called Around the World by Yak and Kayak, by Maynard Sudbury, one of the Peace Corps old boys Timmy knew from his long-ago but fondly remembered days in Andhra Pradesh, I tried to reach Roland Stover and Dean Moody, the only two surviving members of the therapy group I hadn't met yet.
I got no answer at the number I had for Moody, but just as I was about to hang up, a man breathing hard picked up the phone at Roland Stover's residence.
"Yes?"
"Is this Roland Stover?"
"Yes, and who is this?" He sounded tense and mean, fitting the consensus description I had.
"Hi, Roland, I'm Don Strachey, an investigator doing some work that might be of assistance to Dr. Vernon Crockwell. Dr. Crockwell didn't give me your name, but it was provided by another member of the psychotherapy group you were in. Could we get together some time soon so that I could ask you a couple of questions about the group? Dr. Crockwell might be having some legal problems, and there's a chance you could shed some light on the situation."
"What kind of legal problems?" Stover growled. "What do you mean by that?"
"Well, if we could sit down over a cup of coffee-"
"And who has the right to give you my name? That is a breach of medical confidentiality, and I demand to know this minute who gave you my name!"
"Larry Bierly did. He thought if I talked to you, Roland, I might come away with some insights into Dr. Crockwell's therapy group and who his friends and enemies in it are."
"I can tell you right now," Stover snapped, "that I am Vernon Crockwell's friend and Larry Bierly is his number-one enemy. Anyway, I heard on TV that somebody shot Larry, so how did you get my name from him?"
"He gave it to me before he was shot."
"Is he dead?"
"No. It looks as though he'll recover."
"Too bad. Sorry to hear it. Did you know Larry was an unrepentant sexual deviant?"
"I'm aware that he did not successfully complete Vernon Crockwell's course of therapy. But you did, I understand."
"Yes, I did. Dr. Crockwell along with the Holy Scriptures saved me from a life of moral corruption."
"I'd like to hear about that, and whatever additional information you'd be willing to share about Dr. Crockwell's mission. Could we meet somewhere?"
A pause. "Did you say you're a private investigator?"
"Yes, I am."
"Who is employing you?"
"I'm sorry, but I can't divulge that. My client must remain anonymous for now. I can tell you, however, that in this matter and many others I have a strong interest in moral truth." I was looking across the room at Timmy, whose eyes came up from his book.
"Well, what exactly are you investigating?" Stover said. "Devi-ancy?"
"That might play a part in it. Incidentally, there's another member of the Crockwell therapy group I haven't been able to get hold of. Are you in touch with Dean Moody, by chance?"
"Yes, I'm in touch with Dean."
"Perhaps we could all get together and I could pick your brains-I mean yours and Dean's-about deviancy. For this investigative study I'm doing." Timmy placed his book in his lap and watched me.
"Well, then, what about tomorrow after work?" Stover said. "I'm a sales associate at Wal-Mart on Route 4, and I get home around five-thirty." He gave me his Albany address.
"I'd be pleased to drop by then," I said. "I hope Dean can make it too."
"I'll have to check with him," Stover said, and hung up.
Timmy said, "Wasn't that a little misleading?"
"Yep."
"Which one were you talking to?"
I said it was Roland Stover, and I described Stover and Dean Moody and their feverish homophobia and their apparent status as a twosome of some sort.
"Do you think maybe they killed Paul Haig?"
"No, probably not."
"Or shot Larry Bierly?"
"Maybe, but I doubt it. It's possible they did one or the other, or both crimes, assuming Paul Haig's death was even a crime, which hasn't been established. But so far I'd have to say I doubt either Stover or Moody was involved in either event. They both sound hateful and deranged enough to hurt people badly, maybe even physically. But so far there's no real connection I've heard about between either of them and Paul and Larry, except for two things: in the group they had hissy fits over Paul's and Larry's gay-and-proud departure, and of course there's their glee over the death and misfortune of the two brazen sodomites. But they don't act guilty of actual murder or assault. They're completely open and unashamed about their hatreds, and they're probably no more than a couple of obnoxious gasbags. People like that can be psychopathic killers-I know, it wouldn't be unprecedented-and I'm going to stay alert and open to the possibility. But what I'm really after now is a clearer picture of Crockwell, Paul Haig, Phyllis Haig, and Larry Bierly and some weird dynamic among them that none of them has been forthcoming about. I think that's where the key lies to Paul Haig's death-whether it was murder or suicide-and maybe to Larry Bierly's getting shot. And it seems this Steven St. James-Mr. You-Don't-Want-to-Know-fits in somewhere too. Though as to where, beats me."