Deadly Lies (Sequel to TBFOWS)

Deadly Lies- Chapter 19

            "You have an hour." He said opening the gate just as another guard approached us. "Please follow Mr. Mallory."

            Mr. Mallory led to the visitors center in silence. We went through the metal detectors and not to soon I found myself back in the room, this time, Laverne wasn't there yet. I took the seat with my back to the door and waited. The guard who escorted me was pacing in the cramped metal room when the door swung open. I didn't bother turning around. As I listened to his chained legs shuffling against the floor, I focused myself onto the task at hand.

            Staring straight ahead, I calmed down my beating heart and when his body, clad in orange, sat down, his amused eyes locked on my own. Staring at one another, we didn't say a word until the door closed shut, the sound echoing precariously in the cramped metal room. Without looking away, I folded my arms across my chest and reclined back in the chair. I knew I was wasting precious minutes, but I wasn't about to speak first. Sure enough, as the minutes ticked away, his body began to fidget and tremble with curiosity for the reason of my visit. Finally, he burst out into laughter.

            "Two visits in one week? I didn't know I'd made such an impression on you, Sophie." He smiled, but we both knew he had lost this round.

            "Tell me," I began, "why is your little friend still after us?"

            "You must be confusing me with someone else," Laverne said in a giddy tone, obviously enjoying where this conversation was going, "I would never want those, who put me in this marvelous establishment, dead."

            "Oh?"

            "What'd you think, you fool?" He asked leaning in closer, baring his teeth at me. "Just because you put me behind a few bars you won't have to face the consequences?"  

            "That's funny, I didn't think your son had anything to do with your imprisonment." I trailed off, hoping that my hunch wasn't wrong. Watching, I noticed subtle remarks began to take place. His eyes began to dance around the room, his fingers rolled into fists and his shoulders sagged.

            "So tell me," I started again, this time leaning in myself, our noses were almost touching, "tell me how it feels knowing your only son, Sammy, is lying in a ditch somewhere, killed by the same man you hired to kill the innocent."

            "You're lying." He wasn't looking at me, his eyes were still shifting around the room with rapid speed. Folding open the mornings paper, I shoved it in his direction. On the front cover was a black and white picture of Sam, smiling like an innocent teenager. Bold black words were typed across the top, 'Newest Victim', see page 3. Sam was no longer a vamping murderers son, he was now a number. With a shaking hand, Laverne pulled the paper closer to him and I knew it had struck the desired effect.   

            His fingers moved over his dead sons portrait with gentle fingers and his face was contorted into an expression I'd never seen before. With apt speed, he ripped out Sam's picture and studied it with a careful eye, examining every ink blot of the portrait.   

            "He never told me his real name," Laverne said to the portrait, stroking the picture, "but they called him T."

            "I'll need a little more than a letter." I said, my voice softening on its own accord and I leaned in closer.

            "So did I." He said looking up, a smile of pure hatred on his face. Clutching the paper to his chest, Laverne sat up straight and put his hands in his lap.

            "Henderson was the one who recruited him. Apparently, they served together in the Vietnam War. T," Laverne said the letter with vehemence I'd never thought possible, "I had one of my men find out that his real name is Montes Themistocles - try saying that five times over. None of his commanding officers were able to say his last name, so he was referred to as just T." He stopped talking and looked up into my eyes. "What are you up to in history?"

            "Excuse me?" My eyebrows lifted up in surprise.

            "What do you know about Vietnam?"

            "The US and South Vietnam engaged in the war under the pretense of stopping the spread of Communism. Public support was non-existent and the war itself was essentially futile." Laverne snorted and looked away.

            "They're making textbook cookie cutters out of you kids," Laverne smirked, but then scowled, remembering that his son was in the same system, "in 1968, under the cloak of night, a five man assault group entered a small, peaceful, village in Vietnam. The group slaughtered sleeping men, women and children under the command of a Sergeant Themistocles. Can you guess who his second in command was?"

            "Henderson." I said, working over the new information. "Why weren't they tried?" To no one's surprise, Laverne busted out in laughter.   

            "Are you speaking to me of justice?" He asked leaning back in his chair, shaking his head and like an etch-a-sketch a snarl appeared on his face. "I am not your friend, Misses Gram. I didn't agree to meet with you to discuss justice. The only reason I've provided you with the information is because it benefits me. Leave your heroic tendencies to your dreams because justice is nonexistent."

            Ignoring his snotty remark, I suppressed the urge to insult him by something about his son. I couldn't stand the thought of  stooping to his level. Instead, without looking back, I banged on the door and the guard threw it open.

            "See you soon." Laverne called as I left the room and made my way back to society, with imperative information. As though a boiling pot boiling, covered by a lid, I was ready to explode by the time I was outside. I called the number the taxi driver had given him and true to his word he arrived within a few minutes. Instead of going home, I had the driver drop me off at the precinct, I was unable to hold such key news for more than a few minutes.

            "Hello Sophie." Jane greeted me with a small smile and waved me through. Speed walking passed criminals, officers and tired detectives, I kept my eyes open for Officer Beckett, but he wasn't there. I stopped in front of the door that read 'Lieutenant Foster' and knocked with vigor.

            "Come in." I heard John call and I flew into the room like a tornado, shutting the door behind me.

            "You have my permission to refer to me as, Sherlok Holmes... Junior!" I said with a wide smile.