“Beth wasn’t a problem,” he said. “I mean, the woman was damn psychotic-still is, if you ask me. I could have convinced her of anything. But a boy would have required a forged birth certificate and probably a quick relocation away from her friends. Her family lives in Oregon, and I figured that if the O’Meara woman delivered a boy, I could always explain later that Beth got it all wrong when she called them, that she’d had a breakdown and was under treatment. Turns out, I didn’t have to worry.”
Kate nodded. “You bought a new baby?”
“Yes. And I took care of her until Beth was well enough to function again. Took months. I considered my actions an investment in my future.”
I wondered how his actions had affected that poor kid. Having this sicko for a father must have had some negative impact.
“Let me get this straight,” White said. “Your wife had no knowledge that your daughter Amy wasn’t her biological child?”
“Interesting question. A man who’s been ‘kicked to the curb,’ as you put it, might want a little revenge on an ungrateful wife, might tell you Beth was the one who forced me to switch the babies. But you know, I like Amy. I don’t want to damage her by leaving her without both her parents. She’d end up in foster care. The truth is, Beth and Amy do not know the truth.”
Damage. That word meant something to him. Another chill crawled up my arms. This man’s wife might never know how lucky she was that he’d be locked away until they put a needle in his arm.
“Your actions made sure Emma and Christine’s other children were left without a parent and ended up in foster care,” Kate said.
“Better them than Amy. If O’Meara hadn’t demanded more money from me, she’d still be alive. Stupid woman thought she could run a business. When she failed at that-and she would-I knew she’d be back. I couldn’t have that.” He shook his head. “Nope. Couldn’t have that.”
“So you shot her,” White said.
Foster blinked several times, his face impassive. “Yes.”
“You killed two other people,” Kate said, “or two that we know about.”
He smiled. “All out of necessity, sweet Kate. Billings was easy. A weak man. He told me he already had a buyer for his information, but that if I could offer him more, he’d be happy to help me out. That buyer was your sister, of course. I’d watched her hand him cash earlier in the day. No matter how much I paid him, he’d never keep his mouth shut. He chose his own fate by being greedy.”
I couldn’t believe this guy.
“That’s how you found him? Following Ms. Rose?” White asked.
“Yes. When the man got off work that day, I was right behind him,” he said.
“And behind him when you slit his throat,” White said.
I saw Foster’s lips tighten, saw his posture stiffen. He kept his focus on Kate. “I resort to violence only when necessary.”
“Did you even know if Billings had any information worth selling?” White asked.
“Didn’t matter. That man would be trouble, might mention me to Abby. She’d want a description, and I do have distinctive features. He had to go. Kate understands, don’t you?”
Kate closed her eyes for several seconds. When she spoke, her voice was so soft I could hardly hear her. “Oh, yes, I do understand. I understand everything now.”
29
DeShay and I helped Jeff walk to the wheelchair in his hospital room. He was going home after only ten days-or, rather, heading for my house. He didn’t complain as he took each slow step, even though I could tell he was hurting. “Pain is comforting,” he’d told me while he recovered. “Pain means you’re alive.” That was as close as we’d gotten to discussing how near he’d come to dying. Knowing him, we might not ever talk about it again.
I’d done the interview for Kravitz two days after Foster was caught. Makeup was provided by the very talented Sandy Sechrest, who made all of us look like movie stars-all of us being Kate, Aunt Caroline, Emma and me. Loreen had absolutely refused to be interviewed, much less taped.
With cameras and lights taking up most of my aunt’s living room, we answered Kravitz’s questions for several hours. At times the crew dragged chairs from different rooms, moved tables and lamps and had us sit in other spots-sometimes together, sometimes apart, depending on who was talking about what. I was told this would keep the audience from getting bored with the set. I didn’t really care. I wanted to be done.
I was sure most of what Stu taped would end up on the cutting room floor, and thank goodness for that, but I had the feeling Aunt Caroline might be disappointed. She’d lapped up the attention like a cat with a saucer of cream. The deal with Kravitz included a clause that Mary Parsons could air her own interview on the late news after the Crime Time episode was finished. Kravitz was concerned she’d leak something, so the plan was to tape my interview with her on the same morning the Crime Time episode aired in November.
A nurse’s aide arrived and wheeled Jeff to the elevator and out the lobby door to the car that DeShay had parked at the front entrance. A security guard was lurking, perhaps ready to call for a tow truck, but when DeShay flashed his badge, the man understood who the T-bird was waiting for. Everyone knew the story.
The ride home was blessedly quick, and Loreen and Doris were waiting for us at my place. I’d moved them from Jeff’s apartment once Loreen finally believed that Jimmy the pimp hadn’t been outside her house that night. Maybe no one had been outside.
Loreen and Emma had reunited the day after Foster was caught. Emma’s gratitude was obvious, but Loreen didn’t want any credit for doing “what any decent human would do.” She said she’d finally gotten something right for the first time and she was the one who should be thankful.
After ten days, Diva and Webster still weren’t sure about Doris’s aggressive approach to pets, but Loreen was working with her on that.
“Jeffy’s better,” Doris chanted over and over when we came in the door. She did a little clapping, too, and I agreed his arrival was worth the applause.
When Doris held her arms out, ready for a run at her brother to offer one of her infamous hugs, Loreen stopped her by placing a gentle hand on Doris’s arm. “Remember how Jeffy hurt himself? You can’t squeeze him like you do me.”
“That’s right.” Doris hit her forehead with the heel of her hand. “Jeffy’s got a hole in him. I don’t know how you get a hole in you, but if it makes you walk like that, I don’t want one.”
Jeff and DeShay were moving through the foyer, and he smiled and held out his hand to Doris. “Help me over to Abby’s… is that a recliner?”
I nodded. “Thought you might be more comfortable there.”
Doris forgot about helping. She ran to the recliner, ready to show Jeff all the chair’s bells and whistles-the remote compartment, the massage options, the little table that you could flip up for your drinks or snacks. She’d been playing with the chair for a week and was quite the expert.
Jeff looked at Loreen. “I can’t thank you enough for taking care of her. She seems so comfortable with you, so happy.”
“She’s sweet. Like the kid I never had.”
“I really appreciate your help,” he said.
I raised my eyebrows and looked expectantly at him. “Loreen lost her job at Purity Maids, hint, hint.”
A bigger smile from Jeff. “Really? Would you consider staying on? I don’t know what your salary was, but-”
“But you’ll get more. Plenty more,” I finished.
Jeff shot me a look, but then he smiled again. He knew we’d work it out.
Epilogue
Kate and I joined Emma and her brothers and sister on a chilly November evening to watch what Crime Time had done with Emma’s story. How would Christine O’Meara fare? Would the slant Kravitz took make HPD look bad? I sure hoped not, considering I got him that copy of Stu’s tape. The confession and Foster’s guilty plea to all the murders probably had more to do with that than my request.