Kory
by
John Cook
Kory Chandler stopped outside the counseling office. The counselor, Miss Tanaka, led Kory in and closed the door. Kory combed through his hair with spread fingers and then shoved his fists into the pockets of his torn corduroy jacket. They sat down at a metal table with Sergeant Greer, the homicide detective. Sergeant Greer had silver hair and he wore a gray suit.
Miss Tanaka said, “Kory, why don’t you tell Sergeant Greer what you told me?”
Kory said, “Last year when my mom died, I told you she fell out of the tree. Well, I didn’t see her fall. My dad told me to say that.”
Sergeant Greer said, “Would you start from the beginning?”
Kory said, “It was a Sunday night around six o’clock. My mom and dad had been drinking and they were having a fight. And my dad said, ‘I guess you better fix these kids some dinner,’ and my mom said, ‘Screw you,’ because she was tired, so my dad slapped her. Then my mom called him a b…bastard, and then…” Kory shrugged his shoulders. “My dad kicked her.”
“Where?” Sergeant Greer asked.
“In the chest.”
“Was he wearing shoes?”
“He had his boots on.”
“Go on.”
Kory spoke slowly. “I was in the living room watching TV and my sister was playing in the front yard. My mom went in my room and laid on the bed. I went in there and she was crying and all. She kept asking me for some water and then she’d drink it and throw up right after.”
Sergeant Greer said, “I suspected something was wrong when your mom died. Remember when I came to your house?”
“Yes.”
“Remember where we sat?”
“In the kitchen. No, the living room.”
“That’s right, in the living room. We sat next to each other.”
“No, we sat across from each other.”
“Right again. I sat across from you and I watched you. I knew your parents drank, too. They drank a lot.
”Kory nodded. “How did you know?”
“The empty bottles in the garbage. Back then, you told me you saw your mom fall out of the tree and I could see you were telling the truth. That’s why I believed you.”
Kory said, “Well, I didn’t see my mom fall out of the tree. I was lying.”
“Maybe you just don’t remember it the same. It was a very stressful time. Everyone was real sad.”
Kory said quietly, “My dad kicked my mom in the chest and the next day she died.”
Sergeant Greer leaned forward. “I know you told me the truth a year ago and now I don’t know why you’re changing your story. Remember where I sat you down?”
Kory stammered, “In the kitchen.”
“In the living room, Kory. I sat across from you and I watched you. That’s how I get to know the way people move when they speak. I talk to them about the weather and I watch them. When I start asking the real questions, I can see if they’re making abrupt movements. People don’t move naturally when they lie. When I talked to you a year ago, your movements were very natural. That’s how I knew you weren’t coached.”
Miss Tanaka asked, “Do you know what he means, Kory?”
Kory took a pencil stub from his pocket and bit down on the metal band. He wiped the spit off the eraser onto his sleeve and shoved both hands back into his pockets. “I didn’t see her fall out of any tree, that’s all I know.”
Sergeant Greer said, “Then tell me why you said you did.”
Kory’s back stiffened. “Because my dad told me to. He said he’d buy me and my sister all these toys if we did.”
Sergeant Greer said, “Your dad couldn’t have known what her injuries were. Look, the injuries are consistent with what your dad told us, so that has to be what happened. What we really need to do is find out why you’re changing your story.”
Kory had imagined this meeting while lying in bed at night, replaying his mom’s death. He never imagined the detective wouldn’t believe him.
Kory took a deep breath and said, “I didn’t see her fall out of the tree.”
“Detective,” Miss Tanaka said, “when Kory told us this he felt as if he was harboring a dark secret…and we believed him.”
Sergeant Greer shrugged. “Sure, but it doesn’t make sense. Kory’s dad couldn’t have told him what to say. First he would have to know what her injuries were, and nobody knew that until the autopsy. Then he’d have to know how you could get those injuries so he could make up a believable story, and he couldn’t have had that information. He’s not the type of person to open a book. What Kory is telling us is impossible!”
Miss Tanaka said, “Kory, what day did your mom fall?” Sergeant Greer and Miss Tanaka glanced at each other. Then she said, “Is it possible that you weren’t home when she fell?”
“No.”
“It isn’t?” Sergeant Greer asked.
“Well, sometimes my friend and I play at the high school.”
Miss Tanaka asked, “Did you go to the high school on Saturday?”
Kory said, “Maybe…for a couple hours.”
“So it could have happened while you weren’t there,” Miss Tanaka said.
“But my dad kicked her on Sunday.”
“And she died the next day? On Monday?”
Kory nodded.
Sergeant Greer snapped, “We need to get this straight right now. When your mom died, I went around the block asking all the neighbors if they saw anything. Usually, Kory, somebody sees something. One of your neighbors said she saw your mom fall out of the tree. She’d been picking apples. Probably been drinking too and she fell from the first branch, so what is that…four or five feet?”
Kory nodded.“You wouldn’t think someone could die from that, right? Let me explain something. When your mom hit the ground, she stopped real sudden, and when somebody falls flat and makes an abrupt stop like your mom did, they tear this structure called the peritoneum. In the autopsy the doctor found a tear right where the stomach meets the small intestine. Your dad couldn’t have known that. I’ve stood two hundred autopsies and I’d never even heard of it, but…once you catch a whiff of that smell….”
Kory jerked back in his seat.
“The symptoms fit what I’ve told you. That’s the nature of peritonitis—you’re gone in a matter of a day or so. That’s what killed your mom. Your mom didn’t have any bruises anywhere, and if your dad had been beating her, there would have been some. That’s why I didn’t pursue it further. That’s why it doesn’t make sense that your dad would tell you to say she fell out of the tree.”
With a strained look, Miss Tanaka said, “Let me get something straight, Sergeant Greer. Kory’s mom falls out of the tree on Saturday. She seems all right. She’s not all right, but she seems like she is. Then on Sunday, dad kicks mom and shortly after that mom starts showing problems from her fall…but it looks like she’s having problems from the kick. Then on Monday, she dies.
“I’ll bet Kory’s dad thought he killed her too. That would make sense, wouldn’t it? If Kory’s dad thought he killed her, he might tell Kory to lie to you? I’ll bet Kory’s father still thinks he killed her!”
Sergeant Greer squirmed in his chair. “I’m sure I told him the results of the autopsy.”
Miss Tanaka said, “Yes, but as you said, that’s such a traumatic time…he might not have heard you…or maybe he actually believes he fooled you.”
Sergeant Greer said, “Kory, what does your dad do?”
Kory shrugged his shoulders and said, “Nothing.”
“Never? What’s he doing when you get home from school?”
Kory said, “Well, yesterday was the first so he just got his check and he’s probably sitting in front of the TV smoking cigarettes and drinking. He’ll be sitting there and after a while, you’ll see a tear streaming down his face or something.”
“All the time?” Sergeant Greer asked. “I mean, every day?”
Kory said, “He didn’t used to. Only for about the last year.”
Sergeant Greer clutched his forehead. He leaned closer to Kory and said, “Maybe you could tell him, Kory, or maybe you could ask him how your mom died. He could call the coroner’s office and get that information.” Sergeant Greer looked at Miss Tanaka. “The autopsy report. He could do that.”
Kory sat rigid in his chair, looking to Miss Tanaka.
Miss Tanaka said, “Sergeant, Kory can’t tell his dad he tried to reopen the investigation.”
Miss Tanaka took Kory’s arm and leaned forward, a tear on her cheek. She said, “Maybe someday, Kory? Maybe someday you can tell your dad he didn’t kill his wife?
Kory’s fingers trembled. “Maybe,” he said softly. “When I’m bigger.”
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