Wright & Wrong

by W. Glenn Duncan Jr.

  “Okay. I think she’s hiding something.”

  “What?”

  “If I knew what, I wouldn’t be here with you trying to work it out, would I?”

  “You gotta have something.”

  I blew out a breath. “She didn’t see the hallway where the four bodies were. The one that she was supposedly walked through while being rescued.”

  “How the hell you know that?”

  “Call it a hunch, gut, whatever, but I’ve read all the articles about her, and all the ones about the other kids, too. It’s the way she talks about it. There’s plenty of detail about the who and the how of what happened in the rec-area, but nothing about the hallway. You saw it …” Ricco nodded. “You couldn’t have walked through there and not seen what happened.”

  “Maybe she just didn’t want to talk about it?”

  “She’s talked about every goddamn other thing. And when I asked her about Bradley Wright—”

  “You talked to her? Oh fuck. Ed is going to have your ass. I don’t wanna be around when that happ—”

  With the perfect timing that only occurs in real life, there was a bellow from down the hallway.

  “HE’S HERE?! WHERE?”

  I didn’t hear the response, but figured what would happen next, topped up my coffee cup and leaned against the wall.

  Ed came around the corner at the closest thing he could get to a run.

  “You!”

  “Ah, Ricco,” I said. “I believe your lieutenant wants a word.”

  Ricco smiled, folded himself against the wall and watched. Ed pounded the last ten feet to me, breathing heavily. I had an image of the cartoon bull blowing steam out of nostrils before getting ready to charge.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he said. “Are you deliberately trying to give me a stroke or get me fired? How stupid are you? Do you ever think about what you’re doing?”

  “Good morning, Ed,” I said. “In answer to your questions; sometimes, almost never, with a white wine sauce, and forty-three point seven. You were talking a bit fast though, so I may have got those in the wrong order.”

  Ed’s eyes widened, but his breathing had started to slow down, so I was less concerned that one of us might have to do CPR, which was good.

  “I should have you arrested right now,” he said.

  “On what charge? Loitering, probably, but given half the cops here are doing less than I am, Holding’s gonna be pretty full.”

  Ricco chuckled.

  “Go do something useful, Sergeant. Like your job.”

  Ricco melted away.

  “My office. Now!”

  I was barely inside, before Ed slammed the door hard enough for the glass pane to rattle.

  “Let me tell you about two of the phone calls I’ve had this morning,” he said, weaving around the end of his desk and dropping himself into his desk chair. “From the Chief, and the DA themselves no less.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “You’re better connected than I am, Ed. They almost never call me.”

  “Shut up.”

  I shut up.

  “They both want you detained, and they’d be happy to see it take a long time for arraignment. A very long time.”

  I leaned forward in the visitor’s chair and held both my hands out, wrists up, fingers curled into loose fists.

  Ed glared at me for about six months.

  “Stop that. You know I can’t do that without cause. So do they. Even though god knows it might make my job easier.” I sat back. He sighed and dry-rubbed his face. His jowls stuck at the job for a few seconds longer. “Fuck me, Rafferty. I don’t know how you get so lucky.”

  “Skill. Daring. Years of clean living,” I said.

  Ed snorted, so I knew we were starting to make progress.

  “You are getting dangerously close to stepping on toes that shouldn’t be stepped on.”

  “Sometimes, people deserve to be walked over.”

  “Not these people.” He looked at my face. “I mean it. And you should be goddamned thankful that they’re both as honorable as they are, ‘cause I’ve worked with plenty of others who’d think nothing of drumming up phony charges that would mean you wouldn’t see your next birthday on the outside.”

  It was time for me to stop caging.

  “Okay, Ed. Something about the Columbus High shooting stinks. I’m just trying to work out what it is.”

  Ed looked down at his lap, breathed in and out for a count of ten.

  “If I pretend to listen, will you go away, stop bothering the people who make decisions on my continued employment, and leave this thing alone?”

  “Never say never, Ed.”

  “Christ. I’m gonna regret this, I know it. Okay, give it to me in twenty-five words or less.”

  I was about to launch into my theory that Imani was lying to protect Bradley Wright but didn’t know how to handle the distinct lack of proof or any logical reasoning.

  Thankfully the phone rang.

  “What?” Ed growled into the receiver.

  Heard the low murmur though the phone and watched the line of Ed’s mouth as it morphed from annoyed, through curious, blipped past amused, and alighted on confident. All while keeping his lips perfectly horizontal.

  He hung up the phone, looked at me expectantly.

  “Well, looks like we both win. I don’t have to sit here and listen to you anymore. And you might get some of those answers you’re looking for. Whenever I decide to tell you, of course.”

  “How’s that?”

  “That was the hospital. Bradley Wright just woke up.”

  I figured Ed would take some time to get rolling. After all, the kid was under police guard, so he wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.

  Not the case for me. I needed to get to Bradley before the justice system descended upon him and stopped him from being able to tell me what I needed to know.

  I don’t think Ed fully believed my rushed agreement to staying off this case and out of his hair, but then he also wanted me out of his office, so I don’t think he cared too much.

  Called Paul Eindhoven from a payphone on the way to the car. Brought him up to speed and told him to do whatever he could to make sure that I could talk to Bradley for as long as possible.

  There was more than one room with a cop standing duty outside, so it took me walking too damn many yards of the hallways to work out which door Bradley was behind. Wondered for a couple of moments what lay in the rooms behind the other cop sentries but didn’t have time to dwell on it.

  I camped around the corner, out of sight of the cop, while I waited for the doctors and nurses to exit Bradley’s room, and thought about my next move. Magnum would have Rick and TC distract the guard while he slipped inside, Spenser would render the guards defenseless by hurling Thomas Hardy quotes at them, and Mike Hammer … well, Mike would probably just shoot someone.

  This shit is a lot easier on TV.

  The guy who’d drawn the short straw to be guarding a door in the hospital instead of being out on the streets knocking heads was young though, so I thought I might have a chance.

  I came around the corner looking purposeful, flipped him a quick glance at my license and said officiously, “DA’s office. They wanted me here asap.”

  He didn’t look convinced. “I wasn’t told anyone was coming.”

  “You think you get copied in on all her correspondence? She wants to make sure that no-one, and I repeat her words, ‘not a single living soul is to speak with Bradley Wright before I get there’. You want me to tell DA Hernandez I couldn’t do my job ‘cause you knew better?”

  “I don’t know.”

  I pulled out my notepad. “What’s your full name? I want to make sure I spell it right when I report back to Hernandez.”

  That did it. The kid looked each way down the hallway and stepped aside.

  I pulled the curtains across the inside window, dragged a chair up to the bedside and sat down next to Bradley.

  It
was the first time I’d seen him since he was lying in ICU and he didn’t look a whole lot better. The network of tubes still snaked from under the sheets to the bank of bedside monitors. The bandages around his head seemed to have lessened, but the parts of scalp now on display were pasty-white bald, with dots of hair struggling to grow back. His face was so bruised it was almost impossible to tell what complexion he had been before being hit by the bus.

  His eyes were open and glazed, but he looked like he was doing his best to bring them to heel.

  “Who are you?” he croaked.

  I’d focused so much on trying to beat everyone else here, that I hadn’t thought about how I was going to play it with Bradley. In the end I didn’t have to.

  “Wait a min … I kno … know you.” He closed his eyes and his breathing slowed. Just when I thought he was out of it, he came back. Cranked one eye open. “You’re that guy … from … the alley. Chased me … don’t know what happened … where am I?”

  Any kid waking up from a three-week coma in an unfamiliar hospital deserved to be slowly, and calmly, introduced to the truth by a small group of loving family members.

  Bad luck.

  “No time for that now, Bradley. You’re gonna have to listen. Fast. You’ve been indicted to stand trial on four counts of murder from the day of the shooting.”

  “Huh?”

  “What is it between you and the two other shooters? Kevin and Randy.”

  “Wh … Who?”

  “How did it all go down?”

  “Why are you here?”

  “Your Mom hired me—”

  “Mom? Is she here? Mom?”

  “Shut up and listen.” Decided on a different tack. “What’s the story with Imani?”

  “Who?”

  “Imani Laweles. Why is she covering for you?”

  “Don’t know any … named … Imani.”

  “From school. She knows you.”

  “Uh huh.”

  Bradley closed his eyes again and his body sagged. The monitors continued to do whatever it was that they were doing, but no alarms went off, so I assumed that he just went back to sleep.

  Sure enough, about a minute later, he started snoring.

  Heard the door open behind me. “I told you,” I growled over my shoulder, “the DA’s office doesn’t want anyone else in here. Got it?”

  “Oh, I got the message, Mr Rafferty,” Maria Hernandez said, “but it appears that you didn’t. Officer, get him out of here.”

  I stood and turned, saw Maria flanked by Owl Eyes and the young cop, who didn’t look so unsure of himself now. He crossed the room and moved to grab me with a come-along hold.

  “No chance,” I said, swung my arm out of his reach.

  Unfortunately, on his final step toward me, the kid’s shoes scuffed the linoleum and he lurched forward.

  I barely grazed him on the side of the head, and with an open hand too, but in no time at all he had his gun out and I could barely decipher what he was yelling at me, but I think I heard Owl Eyes say “Assaulting an officer,” Hernandez saying “Good-bye, Mr Rafferty,” and when all was said and done, for the second time on this goddamned case I found myself in a pair of handcuffs and being bundled into a blue and white.

  Chapter 24

  Hilda drove and I stared out the window and mulled.

  She might have thought I was sulking, even said as much after we were away from DPD Headquarters, but she was wrong, I was mulling.

  Definitely.

  The guys at Processing had chuckled when the young cop prodded me inside, though I didn’t see what was so goddamn funny. Four hours later in holding—sans pipe this time—I was ready to snap.

  Judge Winslow had taken his own sweet time in getting to the courthouse for the bail hearing. Apparently, I had interrupted a black-tie gala at the country club and he was in no mood to rush. Or be reasonable, obviously, since ten grand as bail was ridiculous. But the prosecutor they rolled in from the DA’s office made the whole incident sound like I’d bare-knuckled the life out of the young cop.

  I didn’t respond. Not much point, when Winslow brought up knowing my old man and clucked his tongue while sighing his disappointment over seeing the younger of the Rafferty cops ‘headed down the same path to nowhere’.

  So they dragged me back to holding and I managed to get a phone call to Hilda. I tried her place, but no luck, so I left a message apologizing for not seeing her and explaining the situation.

  She showed up at 9:10 the next morning with a cashier’s check and a worried frown. Three hours later, the check had been gobbled up by a cashier of very few words, but they left the frown for Hilda to take with her.

  Generosity knows no bounds.

  In all that time, I didn’t see or hear from Ed or Ricco and it pissed me off.

  Okay, so I’d told him that I’d lay off. Big deal. He can’t have thought that I actually meant it. We knew each other better than that.

  Hilda was talking.

  “What?” I said.

  “Are you still sulking about being arrested?”

  “I’m not sulking, I’m mulling. Maybe a bit of brooding thrown in for good measure, but definitely no sulking.”

  “Whatever you say, Ugly, but it’s hard to see a difference from here.”

  “Uh huh.”

  “So what’re you mulling about?”

  “Ed left me hanging.”

  “Can you blame him?”

  “Whose side are you on?”

  “You know that I’m always on your side, big guy, but he has told you to stop poking your nose into this case. Remember?”

  “Of course I do, but I’ve got a client to look after, I can’t just drop it ‘cause he’d prefer it.”

  “I know, I know. And I’m not suggesting you actually do let it go. I’m just pointing out why Ed might not be too enthused about helping you out of the mess you get yourself in to.”

  “Uh huh. Thanks for the bail money.”

  “No problems. Though if you fail to show up to court and I lose that ten grand, I’ll take it out of your ass. You know that, right?”

  “If that’s an attempted come-on, I’m not really in the mood, babe. But I appreciate the offer.”

  I winked at her and we rode in silence for a little while.

  “Are you going to be all right?” she asked.

  “Oh yeah, sure. I’ll be fine.”

  “But?”

  “Huh?”

  “There’s always a ‘but’ when you let your voice trail off like that.”

  “Well, I have to face the possibility that if I’m found guilty, and that will depend on how much shit Hernandez wants to throw my way, there’s a distinct possibility they’ll yank my license.”

  “Oh honey, I hadn’t even thought of that. What will you do?”

  “Not even going to think about it right now. Too much to do just working out the whole Bradley-Imani thing. If I get lucky and give Hernandez something to be happy about, that might help.”

  Hilda nodded. She clearly had no idea how I was going to get lucky. And, based on the way this case had gone so far, neither did I.

  Hilda rolled the car up to a traffic light. “Home for a shower and nap?”

  “Just the shower. Time to get busy. Gotta get out to Wright’s house so I can bust this damn thing wide open.”

  I called Paul Eindhoven before I left the house. I needed to find out what he knew about Imani and make sure I wasn’t being played again. According to the secretary the good counselor was attending court, so I asked her to have him call me back at Charlene’s house as soon as possible.

  The Wright vigil crowd had grown again. People were spilling onto the road as they jostled for space on the verge, making it hard to drive down the street without stopping. I couldn’t get the Pacer even close to the driveway, but that didn’t matter. Mimi’s cherry-red Jeep with the black soft-top was taking up the space on the driveway behind Cowboy’s truck.

  I didn’t want to fartass ar
ound today. Parked, locked the car, and got the Winchester 12-gauge out of the trunk, where I’d put it before leaving home. Chambered a shell. Snick, snack.

  Some people love birdsong, others music. I’ll be honest, the sound of a shotgun getting ready for work is the one that stirs my loins.

  Walked through the crowd, with the shotgun at high port. They parted like the Red Sea for Moses. I continued up the front lawn and onto the porch, all eyes in the crowd following me with feet rooted on the crushed grass.

  Made it inside.

  “Rafferty, you old so-and-so.” Mimi jumped up from where she was sitting on a sofa with Charlene and Ray. Came over to give me a hug. “Ain’t seen you in too long. How are ya?”

  I stood the shotgun in a corner and bent down—a long, long way—to return the hug.

  Mimi is short. Real short.

  But she was the perfect human argument for why size doesn’t matter, as more than a few men had found out too late after making the decision to not take her seriously.

  “I’m doing fine,” I said. “Glad you’re here.”

  “You’re not worried ‘bout those folks outside, are ya? P’shaw. Nothing out there but a bunch of folk with a lotta hot air.”

  “For the moment, yeah, but that’s not gonna last. Plus, we’ve got the small matter of Charlene’s son on trial for murders he may not have committed.”

  Charlene joined Mimi’s side, brighter than I’d last seen her. Maybe even with a hint of momma lion starting to show again. “What did you say?”

  “In a moment, Charlene. Hey,” I said to Cowboy, who was leaning in the kitchen doorway, “The lawyer call here yet?”

  “Yup. ‘Bout five minutes ago. Figured that since he was lookin’ for you, you were coming out this way, so tol’ him jes’ to keep tryin’.”

  “Great. While we wait, tell me about the kids you spoke to.”

  I grabbed beers from the fridge while Ray joined the four of us at the kitchen table. Cowboy ran through the calls he’d made to the other six kids not marked off at school on the day of the shooting.

  I listened as he described running down each kid’s reason for avoiding the carnage, and watched the others as they sipped beer and heard the stories of some of the luckiest kids around.