Wright & Wrong

by W. Glenn Duncan Jr.

  And then it did.

  “Rafferty!” A bored cop with a shaved head and a thick neck yelled through the bars.

  “Yo.” I stood and swept an arm at my fellow inmates. “I believe my flight is being called, gentlemen. It’s been a peach of a time.”

  The junkie tried to walk out with me, mumbling about going to see the ‘main lizard man.’ He received a stiff arm in the shoulder for his troubles and sat down hard on the concrete floor.

  “Lead on, my good man,” I said to the back of the cop as he turned from locking the door.

  “Ed said you were a dickhead,” he replied without turning.

  “If you’re gonna be like that, you don’t get to hear my re-telling of Rime of the Ancient Mariner as we journey onwards.”

  He grunted and we walked. Down hallways and up stairs, and soon we were standing outside the glass-paneled door of my favorite lieutenant.

  The cop knocked.

  “Yeah,” Ed growled from inside. “Oh, damn,” he said as the cop opened the door. Looked up from the paper he was reading, headline screaming DPD SAT ON MERCY CALL ABOUT SHOOTING. “As if I needed more cheering up from you today. Get your ass in here and sit down.” Ed jerked his chin at the thick-necked cop. He closed the door, I sat and hoisted up a smile for Ed.

  I tried for a mix of a contrite whoops-I-messed-up-this-time-but-it’s-no-biggie and a deflecting I’m-sure-you’ve-got-better-things-to-do-so-I’ll-be-going-now. Difficult combination that one, to get it just right.

  I didn’t.

  “Jesus Christ, Rafferty. Every time I think I got through to you, like you might have listened for a change … every time, bar fucking none, it comes back to bite me in the ass. Do you have any clue how much shit you’re shoveling my way?” He rubbed his face. His jowls wobbled. Earlier than usual, I recognized the rhetoric and opted out of engaging.

  I tried again with the smile.

  “Knock that stupid shit off,” he said. “Whatever it is you think you’re doing. That’s the same damn face my grandkid gives when she’s about to fill her diaper.”

  “What can I say? Maybe you should get her to a doctor. Could be serious.”

  “I’ll give you serious. You fucked up this time. Neighbor kid saw you jump the fence and break into that house. Called it in. You’re gone.”

  He stared at me for a few beats, then continued. “Only reason you’re not still in holding waiting for a judge is that I’ve still got some pull around here, and I wanted to hear your bullshit story for myself, even though I’ll cop hell from the Chief.”

  “I didn’t break in. That house belongs to—”

  “Bradley Wright’s mother. I’m not stupid, Rafferty, but that never seems to occur to you, does it?”

  “I was going to say ‘my client,’ Ed, but I’m so glad that you used the mighty resources of the DPD to save me an elaborate expl—”

  “Your client?!” Ed exploded. “Whose fucking side are you on?”

  I had no idea what he was talking about, so I raised an eyebrow and waited for him to carry on.

  “You’re working for Missus Wright? Did you think that you might like to fill me in on that little detail at some stage? Because, oh I don’t know, it might be important in the City’s case against her son.” Ed glared at me across the desk.

  “What’s the big deal? You and I both know that anything I dig up is only going to help your case.”

  “The big deal, smart-ass, is that you’re playing both sides of the street. You’re a material witness to Bradley’s movements between the schoolyard and the bus accident. You were the last person to talk to the kid while he was still compos mentis, and you’re the guy who told us where to look for the gun.” Ed took a couple of deep breaths and shook his head. “You really think you’re going to be able to testify on all that, now that you’re working for the kid’s mom? Christ, Hernandez is going to shit a brick when she hears about this.”

  “Relax,” I said, trying to take my own advice, though the back of neck was beginning to crawl. “She won’t need anything from me. You guys must have everything you need to prove the case.”

  “You better pray that we do. If this thing falls apart because of you fucking things up, I will make goddamned sure that I take you down with me.”

  Ed and I had been friends for a lot of years, too many to remember, and we’d been through the wars. We’d both held each other’s careers, and lives, in our hands at one point or another, and I’d have always said that, other than Cowboy, there’s no-one else I’d want covering my back. But the look he shot me then left me in no doubt that he meant every syllable of what he was saying.

  “C’mon, Ed. You’ve had half the department working on this for more than two weeks. You must be chest deep in all matter of evidence to throw at the kid. And, having seen the inside of the house, there wasn’t anything left, so you got it all, I assume.”

  “Yeah, good point. Let’s get back to that. B & Es gonna look pretty good on your rap sheet.” Ed’s mouth came up to almost level so I knew he was happy about something at least.

  I always did feel a certain pride in being able to spread good cheer.

  “I didn’t break in,” I said. Ed rolled his eyes. “I was investigating. In fact, you might think—” I pulled up short once I saw his lips droop back towards the floor. I don’t mind poking the bear from time to time but needed to remember that sometimes the bear bites back. And today’s bear was already in a nasty mood.

  “Didn’t break in? Uh huh. Why sneak in and out of the back door? If you ain’t got nothing to hide, that is?”

  “Did the first graders in blue serge not tell you about the lynch mob out front, Ed? Heavens, I was fearful for my well-being if they were to misconstrue my intentions.”

  “Uh huh,” Ed said again. “How’d you gain access? If you weren’t breaking and entering, that is.”

  “A key. When I met with Charlene Wright, told her I wanted to look through the house. She gave me a spare.”

  “Where is it?”

  I shrugged. “With my wallet and other stuff, I guess. I hope Processing didn’t lose it.”

  “Interesting you mention that Rafferty, because there was an item within your ‘other stuff’ which caught my eye.” Ed reached behind a pile of papers and held up the little leather case I keep my lockpicks in.

  “Care to explain why these tools of burglary were on your person, Rafferty?”

  “Found those in the house. After I used the key to let myself in, of course.”

  “Uh huh.” When Ed found a line he liked, he committed to it.

  “Yep.”

  “And they ended up in your pocket, because …”

  “Hell, Ed. I felt sorry for the family. They’ve been through a lot and I thought—”

  “There’s your mistake, Rafferty: thinking too much. I’d advise against it.” He leaned back in his chair, blew out a breath and rubbed his upper lip. “Rafferty, you’re fulla crap. I know you broke into that house. I know these are, or rather were, your lockpicks. And you’re already in the system on this one, so I’m willing to throw you back in holding because I’m too busy and tired right now to straighten it out for you.”

  “But …”

  “But, what? You thought there was something else I was going to say. Nope.” Ed leaned back and looked at me for about three weeks longer than was comfortable.

  And I thought I was the master of the awkward silence.

  He blew out a breath, reached into a drawer, removed a paper bag and threw it at me. I caught it one-handed and dumped it in my lap.

  “There’s the rest of your stuff. I don’t want to see you again until this thing is over. Clear?”

  “Sure, Ed.” Now that it looked like I was going to be headed home instead of back downstairs I decided to take a chance. “Hey, before I go …”

  He closed his eyes. “What?”

  “Tell me you have everything you need on Bradley.” Hoped that I hadn’t been too generous in my expecta
tions of DPD.

  Ed opened his eyes, looked at me, hoisted both elbows onto his desk. Brown elbow patches on a brown suit coat.

  “Not as much as we’d like.”

  “What?”

  He sighed. “Found a little bit of weed in his room, but that’s nothing. The techs are breaking his computer down as we speak, and I’m hoping we’ll find out he’s also the goddamned Unabomber.”

  “Shit.”

  “Shit is right. Now are you starting to get it?” He sighed. “We’ve got the gun, and his prints on it, so that’s a lock. It might be enough, but I doubt it.”

  “So Hernandez might call me to testify.”

  “After hiring yourself out to the mother of the accused? You’d better hope it doesn’t come to that.”

  I should have seen that coming. Kicked myself for being too eager to take the money.

  “So quit fucking around, wasting my time, and getting in my way. You want to do something useful, get outta here and find something that proves the little shit did it.”

  Halfway out the door I turned back. “Thanks Ed.”

  He didn’t look up from his paperwork. “Close the door.”

  Chapter 17

  I was in the office and sipping coffee the next morning as an alternative to twiddling my thumbs. Cleaning up and dusting had also been possibles, but not as worthwhile. A small spot of firearm husbandry always brightened my day, but I hadn’t fired the .38 since its last clean …

  Hence, coffee.

  Doing a good job of it, too.

  Until the door banged open without warning and a tall Hispanic woman in a camel-brown power suit stepped through and headed for my desk. She was followed by a three-piece-suited guy who blinked owlishy behind round glasses.

  “Mr Rafferty,” the woman said. “District Attorney Hernandez.” She stuck out a hand and waited for me to stand and return the handshake. My god she was strong.

  I sat again, leaned back and waved in the direction of one of the visitor’s chairs.

  “We won’t be that long. I’m here because of a disturbing phonecall I received last night from Lieutenant Edmund Durkee of Dallas Police Department.”

  Uh huh, I thought.

  “Go on,” I said.

  “He informs me that you are working for the mother of the student who’s been indicted on four counts of murder from the Columbus High School shooting.”

  That wasn’t a question, so I didn’t respond.

  “I assume that information is correct?”

  That seemed to qualify as a question.

  “Yes. I’m also chasing down an informant who swears Hauptmann had nothing to do with the Lindbergh kidnapping, but I don’t imagine you want to talk about that.”

  Owl-Eyes flicked Maria a glance. She ignored us both. “Mr Rafferty, I’m going to ask once, and only once, to terminate your contract with the Wright family and cease all associated work.”

  “You should know, counselor, that I very rarely do what I’m told, but let’s play along for a while. As I understand it, Charlene Wright is currently not accused of a crime. She’s a private citizen, free to come and go, with a need of my services. In addition, I’m a small businessman just trying to make my dreams come true here in the land of the free and the home of the brave. What possible reason would I have to turn away work?”

  “Maybe I didn’t make myself clear, Mr Rafferty. This is not a request.”

  “A threat?” I said.

  “Call it what you like, your connection with Charlene Wright represents a risk to the case we are building against Bradley Wright and I will not have this case compromised.”

  “Or what?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I said, ‘or what?’ As in, I have to lay off this case, or what?”

  “Or I will use whatever measures I have at my disposal to protect the city’s case.”

  “So I’ll sleep with the fishes, is that it? Concrete boots?”

  “Don’t be so melodramatic.”

  “If you’re going to appeal to my better nature, you should have phoned ahead, and I could have told you not to waste your time.”

  “I’m not sure what the DPD lets you get away with, but my office will not be as forgiving.” I raised my eyebrows. Hernandez almost sighed and I had to stop myself from licking my finger and chalking an invisible scoreboard. “I’ll have you so deep in court orders that you’ll be too busy meeting with your attorney to do anything other than breathe.”

  I tried to look bored.

  “And, if that’s still not enough for you to see sense, I really think that I might start to become worried about your safety.”

  “Here it comes.”

  “I’m not sure what you’re trying to imply, Mr Rafferty, but I could possibly be so concerned that I would find it of critical importance to have you identified as a protected witness and jailed until the case comes to trial. For your own safety, of course.”

  “Of course,” I said, trying to make it sound like I didn’t care.

  “And with Master Wright in his current condition, who knows how long that could be? I was reading an article the other day about a woman who regained consciousness twenty-eight years after a car accident first put her into a coma. Fascinating, simply fascinating.”

  I knew when I was beat, but I’d be damned if I was going to admit it out loud. Hernandez was classy enough to know that, and went up about twelve notches in my estimation.

  She moved to the door. Owl Eyes opened it for her, and she turned to me before stepping into the hallway. “I suggest you think about it, Mr Rafferty. Hard.”

  The door was barely closed before I’d grabbed the phone receiver and nearly ripped the dial off as I rang Paul’s office.

  “It’s Rafferty. Get Paul for me,” I growled to whoever answered the phone before they could even wish me a good morning.

  “Mr Rafferty,” Paul said. “I assume you’ve got some news fo—”

  “Can it, Paul. You fucked me on this one, didn’t you?”

  “I don’t have the faintest idea what you’re talking about.”

  “Browbeating me into taking on Charlene as a client.”

  “Surely you don’t mean that. You’re a grown man who makes his own decisions. Obviously. I really don’t think I could make you do anything you didn’t want to do.” I could almost hear Paul’s dimples and dazzling teeth buzzing through the phone line.

  “We’re not in court now, you’re not fooling anyone. You knew that if I took on Charlene’s case it would almost certainly exclude me as a witness from any upcoming trial. Or that it would at least throw enough shit in the game to make it easier to discredit whatever I had to say about Bradley. Didn’t you?”

  He chuckled. “Of course I did. And, to be honest, I’m a little surprised that it took you this long to twig to it.”

  I didn’t want to admit that I hadn’t really thought it would be a problem. That I’d figured the cops had such a watertight case that my puttering around on the edges wouldn’t make a difference. I was also pissed for letting myself get stuck in this situation.

  But I wasn’t going to admit that to Paul.

  “What do you know that I don’t?”

  “What are you getting at?”

  “You know that I saw Bradley in the schoolyard with a gun.”

  “You’ve made that abundantly clear, yes.”

  “And I can safely assume that you know I followed him from the school to Deep Ellum, where he got hit by the bus?”

  “Monica Gallo’s not the only one with contacts inside the DPD.”

  Damn, his chuckle was infuriating.

  “So what do you know about what really went on? What’s so incriminating that I needed to be sidelined from any trial? It can’t be anything that sees him acquitted, because you’d be touting that all over the city, so I’m guessing you know something that proves Bradley did it.

  “And you didn’t want me telling a courtroom about watching him and his buddies shoot up the scho
ol. So, what is it, Paul? He leave a note? Ranting and raving and telling you why he did it?”

  “You’ve got an overactive imagination.”

  “Maybe it’s Charlene. Got the hots for Mom? Gonna use whatever tricks you can to get little killer Bradley off, so that the thankful mother can truly show you just how grateful she is. Maybe a quickie in the courthouse bathrooms after a not guilty verd—”

  “Fuck off, Rafferty.”

  “Did I strike a nerve, counselor?”

  “For Christ’s sake, Rafferty. To quote your good self, ‘I don’t owe you jack shit.’ So get off your high horse, swallow your pride, and do your job. You say that you’re a good P.I. Prove it. If you’re so damn good, find that evidence.”

  And then the prick hung up on me.

  Ranting at lawyers did have its upsides, but I had to be honest; it wasn’t going to extricate me from under this stupid case, even if it did feel good in the moment.

  Nope, the only way was forward now.

  I grabbed the phone again.

  “Yo, boss-man,” Cowboy drawled down the line.

  I shifted the phone to my other shoulder and started to pack my pipe.

  “Hey, Cowboy. You and Mimi doin’ awright?”

  Damn, I was doing it already.

  Every time I called Cowboy, I promised myself I wouldn’t fall into his country-boy speech patterns. And yet, every time, I did. The slow, almost lazy, way he spoke was hypnotic, I reckoned.

  Goddamn, even my thoughts were doing it.

  I jerked myself back to the moment.

  “… good, for a coupla country folk. Y’all know how it is.”

  “Yeah.” I focused. I wouldn’t be outwitted this time. “You interested in some work?”

  “Mebbe,” he said. “Whatcha got?”

  “Protection for a woman and her brother. At their home.”

  “Fine.” Fahn. “The Mob after them, they informants, or what?”

  “Uh, just flying the flag to make sure a bunch of front yard protestors don’t get ideas.”