by John Grisham
then we’ll apologize, send him on his way, and hope he doesn’t sue us.”
Theo and Ike were sitting with their backs to a wall in the spacious waiting area when Frye and Mr. Tom Carson exited the walkway. Carson was either angry or frightened; obviously, he was not very happy. As they were joined by other agents, he saw Theo across the way and shot him a look of murderous hatred.
They took him to an airport office for questioning.
As Theo and Ike waited, they began to worry about their flight. They couldn’t leave until they knew for sure if Carson was Duffy/Packer; nor did they want to leave.
• • •
Frye, though, was a veteran, and Duffy was an amateur. After fifteen minutes of interrogation, his story crumbled and he finally admitted who he was. His brand-new papers—Maryland driver’s license, Social Security card, passport—were all fake. He had a ticket on United from Miami to São Paulo, Brazil, and he had nine thousand dollars in cash in his pocket. He came within fifteen minutes of getting away.
After Frye informed him he was under arrest, he demanded a lawyer and stopped talking.
Theo and Ike were standing on the concourse near the office when they led Duffy away in handcuffs. As he walked past them, he once again glared at Theo.
Special Agent Daniel Frye walked over, as did Slade, Ackerman, and another agent. Frye put his hand on Theo’s shoulder and said, “Nice work, kid.”
Chapter 10
It was raining hard when Theo awoke in his own bed early Sunday morning. He said good morning to Judge, who slept under the bed, or sometimes beside the bed, and occasionally even on the bed, but the dog did not open his eyes. Theo opened his laptop and went straight to the Strattenburg morning newspaper, online edition. The headline screamed across the page: PETE DUFFY ARRESTED AT DC AIRPORT. Theo read the story faster than he had ever read anything. He knew the facts—he was searching for his name. His and Ike’s. Nothing.
He took a deep breath, and read it again. Acting on an anonymous tip, a team of FBI agents had cornered Duffy after he had boarded a flight to Miami, and so on. He was bound for São Paulo, Brazil, with fake paperwork and a pocketful of cash. According to an unnamed source, the FBI picked up his trail last week. It was believed that he had been living in the Cleveland Park area for a few weeks. The company that provided the false identity for a Mr. Tom Carson was also under investigation. Duffy was being held in jail in Arlington, Virginia, and was expected to be returned to Strattenburg in the near future. Phone calls to his attorney, Clifford Nance, went unanswered. The local police and prosecutors had no comment.
The story then went on to describe the murder charges against Duffy, details that virtually everyone in town had known for over a year. There was a photo of Myra Duffy, the victim, who had been found strangled in the living room of her home one Thursday morning while her husband, Pete, was playing golf on the course where they lived, at Waverly Creek. There was a photo of Mr. Duffy as he was walking into the courthouse during his trial, a trial that ended when Judge Henry Gantry abruptly stopped things and sent the jury home for good. It was rumored at the time that a mysterious witness had come forward late in the trial, a witness who could place Mr. Duffy inside his home at the time of the murder. This witness has never been identified. Just as his second trial was starting, Duffy disappeared.
Theo knew all this; he’d been in the middle of it. Now, he was in the middle of it again, and this made him nervous. No, it scared the daylights out of him. Duffy had some dangerous friends. The FBI, though, had assured him and Ike that they would be left out of the official version of the story. So far so good, but Ike didn’t trust the local police to keep secrets.
The story went on to say that Duffy not only faced another trial for murder, but an escape charge as well. That carried a maximum sentence of ten years. Theo asked himself how in the world could Duffy wiggle around the fact that he skipped town.
He woke up Judge and went downstairs. His parents were at the kitchen table, still in their pajamas, reading the same newspaper and sipping drinks, black coffee for his father, a diet soda for his mother. After a few sleepy good mornings, Mrs. Boone asked, “Have you seen the newspaper?”
“Yes, I just read it. Didn’t see my name.”
Both parents forced smiles and nodded. They, too, were worried sick about Theo’s involvement. What was he supposed to do? He saw Duffy on the train. The man was wanted for murder. Wouldn’t any good citizen do what Theo did?
Yes, they agreed that he had done the right thing, but it sure didn’t feel like it. He almost wished he had done nothing.
Theo said, “Looks like he’s facing at least ten years in the pen, right?”
Mr. Boone grunted and said, “Sure looks that way. I don’t see how he can claim he’s not guilty of running away.”
Mrs. Boone said, “He’ll be lucky if he doesn’t get the death penalty.”
Theo fixed two bowls of Cheerios, one for him, one for Judge. His parents were lost in the newspaper and seemed worried. “Are we going to church?” Theo asked after a bite.
Mrs. Boone said, “It’s Sunday morning, Theo. Why wouldn’t we go to church?”
“Just asking, that’s all.”
Fine, let’s play the quiet game.
• • •
After church and lunch, Theo wanted to get out of the house. He told his mother he was going for a bike ride, with Judge on a leash. She told him to be home before dark. He took off, flying along the shaded streets of his quiet neighborhood. He waved at Mr. Nunnery, an old guy who never left his porch, and he called “Hello” to Mrs. Goodloe, another neighbor but one who couldn’t hear.
Once again, Theo was thankful that he lived in a town where kids could ride their bikes anywhere they wanted, with no worries about heavy traffic and a million people on the sidewalks. He could never live in a place like Washington. It was a cool city, a nice place to visit, but Theo needed space. With Judge galloping beside him like the happiest dog in the world, he zigzagged here and there, avoiding downtown where a bored policeman might yell at him for running stop signs. Theo knew many of the policemen in town and they were generally nice guys, but there were a few who felt as though kids on bikes should follow all the rules of the road. One of his favorite places was the campus of Stratten College, where students were always tossing Frisbees and killing time on the wide, green lawns. He liked the college but wasn’t sure he would go there. It was very close to home and, at the age of thirteen, he was already thinking about getting away.
The Delmont neighborhood was near the school and a lot of students lived there, in older duplexes and apartment buildings and run-down houses. There were coffee shops, bars, used bookstores—a more rustic version of downtown. He found the street he was looking for, then the small house where Julio Pena and his family had been living for a few months.
The Penas had once lived in the homeless shelter on Highland Street. Theo had met Julio there and had helped him with his homework. He was a seventh grader at Strattenburg Middle School, and Theo saw him occasionally on the playground. His cousin, Bobby Escobar, was the prosecution’s star witness against Pete Duffy.
On the day Myra Duffy was murdered, Bobby was working at the Waverly Creek golf course. He had been there for about three months. He had been in the country for about a year, after he entered illegally from El Salvador. Some would call him an “illegal immigrant.” Others, an “undocumented worker.”
Theo had read in the newspaper that there were about eleven million people like Bobby working and hiding in the country.
At any rate, Bobby was having a quiet lunch under some trees when he saw Pete Duffy suddenly appear in his golf cart, hustle into his home, stay about ten minutes, then hop back into his golf cart and speed away. It was eleven forty-five a.m., the approximate time Myra Duffy was strangled to death. Bobby was afraid to come forward for the obvious reason—he did not want to be deported—but Theo had convinced him to talk to Judge Gantry. This was after the trial
had started, and it was the reason the judge declared a mistrial. Since then, the police had promised to protect Bobby and make sure he didn’t get into any immigration problems. Mr. and Mrs. Boone were attempting to sponsor him and help him get his citizenship, but that process was moving slowly.
• • •
Theo knocked on the door but no one answered. He peeked into the backyard, then hopped on his bike and continued down the street. Some boys were playing a pickup game of soccer in a small park and a lot of people were watching and milling about. Almost all appeared to be Hispanic. Julio was with a group of kids, including his twin siblings, Hector and Rita, behind a goal, kicking a soccer ball and killing time. Theo inched closer until Julio saw him. He smiled, walked over, and said, “Theo, what are you doing here?”
“Nothing really, just out riding my bike.”
When the Pena family lived at the shelter, Theo had taught English to Hector and Rita, and when the two kids saw him talking to their brother they ran over to say hello. Judge soon got their attention, and they took the leash and went for a walk. A lot of kids noticed Judge and wanted to pat him on the head and say things to him. It was a proud moment for the dog.
Theo and Julio chatted about this and that, and when the time was right Theo asked, “Say, Julio, how’s Bobby doing? Is he still living with you guys?”
Julio frowned and glanced at the soccer game not far away. “He stays with us some, and then he’ll go back to his old place. He’s still pretty scared, you know? Plus, Bobby and my mother don’t always get along.”
“That’s too bad.”
“Yeah, they fight a lot. Bobby likes to drink beer and he brings it home, and this upsets my mother. She doesn’t want that stuff in the house, says it’s her house, and he has to live by the rules. And I think he might be doing some other bad stuff, you know?”
“I know,” Theo said, though he really didn’t. “Doesn’t sound too good. Is he still working at the golf course?”
Julio nodded.
“Look, Julio, there’s something Bobby needs to know. They just found Pete Duffy and arrested him. He’s coming back to town for another trial.”
“The guy who killed his wife?”
“Yep, and Bobby is about to be a very important person. Has he talked to the police lately?”
“I don’t know. I don’t see him every day.”
“Well, I think you need to talk to Bobby just so he’ll know. I’m sure the police will be around shortly to have a chat.” Theo wanted to say something about Omar Cheepe and Paco and the other tough guys who were still around, and probably still worked for Pete Duffy, but he didn’t want to frighten anyone. If Bobby got scared, he would vanish into the night.
Julio said, “He’s thinking about going home. His mother is dying and he’s very homesick.”
“Your mother’s sister?”
“Yes.”
“I’m so sorry. But my parents are trying to help him get a work permit. He really shouldn’t leave anytime soon, Julio. Can you tell him this?”
“It’s his mother, Theo. If your mother were dying wouldn’t you want to go home?”
“Sure.”
“Plus, he’s still pretty nervous about getting involved. Just last week some of his friends who worked in an apple orchard not far from here got arrested because they didn’t have the papers, you know, and now they’re in jail somewhere, waiting to be sent back to El Salvador. It’s not easy living like this, Theo. It may be hard for you to understand, but Bobby doesn’t want to be involved. He doesn’t trust everyone like you do.”
“Okay. I get it.”
Hector and Rita were back with Judge, bored with him now and ready to hand over the leash. Judge was tired of the attention and wanted to leave. Theo said good-bye to the Penas and pedaled away.
Chapter 11
Theo’s favorite teacher was Mr. Mount, his homeroom teacher and faculty adviser for the Debate Team. He was in his mid-thirties, still single, and prone to flirting with the young female teachers, and he had a happy, laid-back attitude about life that the boys adored. His family was full of lawyers and he himself had finished law school and worked for one less than pleasant year with a big firm in Chicago. He loved teaching, enjoyed being around kids, and had decided that he belonged in a classroom and not a courtroom. He taught Government at third period, and was often inclined to let the boys discuss whatever they wanted as long as it was remotely related to politics, history, or the law. Also, he gave easy tests.
With Duffy all over the news, there was little doubt about what the class would dwell on Monday morning.
“I have a question,” Darren said not long after Mr. Mount called the class to order.
“What is it, Darren?”
“The newspaper said that Pete Duffy might fight extradition back to Strattenburg. What does that mean?”
Mr. Mount glanced at Theo, but chose to handle it himself. Theo knew more about the law than anyone in the room, except Mr. Mount, but Theo was often reluctant to dominate the discussions. He didn’t want to appear to be a know-it-all.
Mr. Mount said, “Good question. Extradition is a legal process whereby a person who is arrested in one state is sent back to the state where the crime occurred. Obviously, this person does not want to return to the place where he’s in trouble, so he often tries to block the transfer. It’s always a waste of time because eventually the courts see to it that he gets shipped back. The only time it gets sticky is where one state has the death penalty and the other state does not. But even then, the defendant loses. It’s more of a problem between countries because the United States does not have extradition treaties with all other countries. You guys ever see the movie The Great Train Robbery?”
A few hands went up.
“It’s the true story of a train robbery in England, around nineteen sixty or so. This gang stopped a train loaded with money and made a clean escape. Eventually they all got caught, with the exception of one guy who made it down to Brazil, the same place Duffy was headed. At the time, Brazil did not have an extradition treaty with the United Kingdom, and so this guy was able to live a pretty good life down there and the British police couldn’t touch him.”
“What happened to him?” Darren asked.
“He eventually got homesick and returned to London. I think he died in prison.”
“I have another question,” Woody said. “My dad says it’s unheard of for a guy charged with murder to be able to post a bond and stay out of jail while he’s waiting on his trial. Somehow Pete Duffy got around this, and look what happened. He was rich, so he got a special deal, right? My dad says anyone else would’ve been locked up and not able to run away. I don’t understand this bond thing.”
Mr. Mount looked at Theo again. Theo said, “Well, your dad is right. Most judges will not even consider a bond in a murder case. For other cases, say for example embezzlement, say you got caught stealing money from your boss, a serious crime but nothing violent, then, your lawyer would ask the judge to set a reasonable bond. The prosecutor always wants a high bond, the defendant a low one. Say the judge sets the bond at fifty thousand dollars. You would then go to a bail bondsman and put up ten percent in cash. He writes the bond, you get out while you wait for your trial, and everybody’s happy. If you don’t show up in court, the bail bondsman has the right to track you down and bring you back.”
“What’s the difference between bail and bond?” Woody asked.
“Nothing really. Lawyers use either word. They say ‘My client’s bond is five thousand dollars,’ and they say, ‘My client’s bail is five thousand dollars.’ They mean the same thing.”
“So how did Duffy get a bond?”
“He had money. His bail was set at a million dollars, and he put up some land worth that much. He didn’t go through a bail bondsman, but his lawyer arranged the deal with the court.”
“What happened when he disappeared?”
“The county took his land. Just like that.”
“Does he get it back now that he’s been found?”
“No. He lost it forever. According to my dad, the county plans to sell the land and keep the cash.”
“Can he get another bond now?”
“No, not after jumping bond the first time. No judge would consider bail for an escapee.”
“Can we watch the trial again, Mr. Mount?” asked Ricardo.
Mr. Mount smiled and said, “We will try, that’s all I can promise. I doubt if it will happen anytime soon.”
“I wonder how they caught him,” Brian said.
If you only knew, Theo said to himself.
During afternoon study hall, Theo asked Mr. Mount if he could be excused for a few minutes. He needed to run some vague errand. Mr. Mount looked at him suspiciously but agreed anyway. Theo might flirt with trouble from time to time, but he would never do anything terrible.
He found Julio on the playground, again playing soccer. Julio took a break from the game and stood next to Theo as they watched the action. “Any luck with Bobby?” Theo asked quietly.
“Yes, I saw him last night. I told him what you told me and he’s really nervous. He is wondering why he should get involved in a murder trial. He has everything to lose and nothing to gain, and he really doesn’t care if this Duffy guy goes to jail or not. That, plus he’s really worried about his mother.”
“Can’t blame him for that.”
“You know, Theo, it would have been better if Duffy was never caught.”
“Maybe you’re right,” Theo said, as he suddenly felt guilty again. But guilty of what? He had spotted a fugitive and done what was right. “Tell Bobby things will be okay, all right, Julio? He’s got to cooperate with the police.”
“Maybe I’ll let you tell him.”
“I’ll do that.”
As he walked back to homeroom, he mentally kicked himself for getting in so deep. He’d stuck his nose into somebody else’s business and now he wished he hadn’t. The Duffy circus would once again take over the town, and with it there would be the possibility of bad guys poking around. If it somehow leaked that Theo and Ike were responsible for Duffy’s capture, things might get rough. And Bobby Escobar might vanish at any moment.
After school, Theo checked in at the Boone & Boone law office. Elsa informed him that he had worn the same shirt twice last week and she was tired of looking at it. He said thanks and went to his office, a small room in the back that was once used for storage. When everyone was busy, he left Judge behind, sneaked out the back door, and rode his bike downtown where he met April Finnemore at Guff’s Frozen Yogurt on Main Street.
Theo ordered his favorite—chocolate smothered with crushed Oreos. April never had the same thing twice. She was an artist, a creative type, and always trying something new. Theo didn’t understand this, and she didn’t understand why Theo was so rigid in his routines. He lived by the clock and rarely tried anything new. He blamed his parents. After sampling three types, while Theo waited impatiently, she finally selected pistachio with walnuts.
Walnuts? But Theo said nothing. They found their favorite booth, one with privacy. She began firmly with, “Now, I want to know why you missed school last Thursday and Friday.”
“I’m not supposed to say.”
“You’ve been acting weird, Theo. What’s going on?”
April was the one friend who could keep secrets. She came from a broken family where there was a lot of strange behavior, a lot of goofiness that would be embarrassing if people knew about it. Thus, she had learned to stay quiet at an early age. She could also spot trouble. If Theo was worried or frightened or in a foul mood, leave it to April to zero in with her usual, “Okay, Theo, what’s going on?” He always told her and he always felt better. She told him things, too, usually stuff about her family, but also her dreams of getting away, of becoming a great artist and living in Paris. Most boys would have little patience with such foolishness, but Theo adored April and he was always willing to listen.
He took a bite, wiped some Oreos off his lip with a napkin, looked around to make sure no one was listening, and said, “Well, have you seen this story about Pete Duffy getting caught?”
“Of course. It’s all over the news.”
“Here’s what really happened.”
He told her everything.
“But, Theo, what you did was brave and honorable. You’re responsible for bringing a murderer to justice. At the moment when you saw him and realized who he was, you had no choice but to do what you did. I’m very proud of you. I can’t think of another kid who could have done that. You caught him twice.”
“But what if he knows who I am? If you had seen the look on his face when they walked him away in handcuffs, you’d be pretty scared.”
“He’s not going to hurt you. He’s in enough trouble. Besides, I doubt if he recognized you. You’ve never met the man. You’re just a thirteen-year-old kid he saw in the airport when he must have been in shock. I wouldn’t worry about that.”
“Okay, what about Bobby Escobar? He’s about to be on the hot seat and he’s probably terrified. I’ve really complicated his life.”
“He’s also the star witness. You gotta believe the police will take care of their star witness. Right?”
“I guess. But Duffy has some thugs I sort of bumped into during the first
