Wright & Wrong

by W. Glenn Duncan Jr.

  Well, he started it.

  “Okay then. I’m pretty good at what I do, and I bet there’s something in your past that you’re keen to keep private, isn’t there? I can’t promise what might happen once I make that public.”

  “Are you threatening me?”

  “Do you feel threatened?”

  “No.” He gave me a tight smile, spread his arms, and took a step forward, herding me just as you’d do with an old, blind dog. I automatically moved backwards in time. Cyd Charisse in blue jeans.

  “I’ll take you off my Christmas card list. That’ll teach you.”

  “Good-bye, Mr Rafferty.”

  We were walking in lockstep now, him forwards, me backwards, and consequently he was the only one making progress.

  “I’ll prank call you every morning at 3am.”

  Stumbled a little as I backed off the curb, then I was standing in the street, watching Donald’s back as he walked back to his front door.

  I leaned against the Pacer’s fender while I smoked the last of the day away. The sun dusted the tops of the shade trees lining the street and the air was so still that my smoke hung around me, a blue cloud following me with every step.

  With nothing but doors slamming in my face for the whole day, I was forced to admit I was running dangerously low on options. But not yet empty.

  Always kept one scrunched up at the bottom of my pocket for an emergency. Looked like the right time to bring it out into the light.

  It wasn’t the perfect play, carrying a high likelihood of pissing a bunch of people off, but it did get results. Since it was already deep in the fourth quarter and the home team trailed by five points, I had nothing to lose.

  Hilda didn’t like this one, and with good reason. It wasn’t so long ago she’d borne the brunt of a would-be Molotov Cocktail after I’d used the same approach.

  I still felt bad about that.

  But I jumped in the car, headed for the Wrights.

  Needed a phone. It was time to beat the bushes.

  And the whole drive there, while I was planning the finer details, damned if I wasn’t grinning like a teenager about to go on spring break.

  Chapter 30

  “Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” Hilda asked.

  Again.

  “Most times, no, but in this case, I’m actually pretty confident.”

  “You’re ‘beating the bushes’ and you think you’ll flush everyone out with this story?”

  “What? Oh, I thought you were talking about the huevos rancheros. They’re almost done, by the way, if you want to make coffee.”

  Hilda looked up from the newspaper spread across the dining table, a frown creasing her forehead. I checked the tortillas warming in the oven, made sure the eggs were ready, and tried not to laugh.

  “Ed’s going to be angry at you,” Hilda said, standing and getting two coffee cups from the cupboard.

  “Oh, I expect nothing less, but then he’s angry a lot these days. Maybe needs to look at his salt intake.”

  “Yeah, I’m sure that’s what he needs to worry about.”

  We sat with the sun streaming through the window that overlooks Hilda’s back garden, ate breakfast, drank coffee, and held hands.

  Damn, I loved waking up with this woman.

  Looked over at the paper pushed to one side, Monica’s byline nestled underneath the screaming headline.

  LOCAL P.I. TRIES TO PROTECT SCHOOL SHOOTING WITNESS. DA’S office and DPD won’t help. P.I says Kid Killer is innocent.

  Hilda saw my eyes. “You won’t be able to joke around with the DA’s office like you do with Ed.”

  I patted my mouth with a napkin and reached for my coffee. “Fuck ‘em. They all had their chances, but thought it’d be better to double-down on their version of the truth.”

  “As erudite as always, big guy.”

  “I try.”

  “Yes, you do.”

  After breakfast, Hilda headed to the store to meet a collector who claimed he had Lee Harvey Oswald’s wedding ring to sell. I made my thoughts about that clear before she headed out the door, and then puttered around the house until mid-morning when I decided I should just get it over with.

  Parked the Pacer in a lot a couple of blocks further away from the office than I usually did. Didn’t mind the walk, and made it almost all the way to the office before I knew I was right.

  They jumped me as I rounded the corner.

  “Mr Rafferty, Mr Rafferty,” they shouted, thrusting microphones and notepads at me. “What do you say to the DPD’s claim that this witness of yours is fake? Who’s telling the truth? Mr Rafferty, Mr Rafferty.”

  I shouldered through the pack, climbed the stairs, side-eyed the two reporters leaning against my door until they gave me some room, went in, and locked myself inside.

  “Twenty-seven messages,” said the girl when I called my service. “Do you want to write these down?”

  “Nope,” I said. “On second thoughts, tell me who they’re from.”

  “Umm …” A snap of gum. “Looks like nine from an Ed Durkee, six from Randolph who says he’s calling from the DA’s office, a handful of individual calls from TV stations and newspapers, and one from a Paul Eindhoven.”

  “What’s the message from Paul?”

  “It just says, ’Nice work.’ That’s all.”

  “Thanks.”

  Hung up, cracked the window, and fired up a pipe. Listened to the news-hounds mutter and chat on the sidewalk below the open window. Every few minutes I’d watch the shadow of a figure appear on the other side of my glass door, knock several times, rattle the doorknob, wait, then leave.

  Started to think that maybe I’d left my starting hours too late, then the phone rang and I knew I’d got it right.

  “You’ve done it now, sir,” Donald rumbled at me, his voice like a distant thunderstorm.

  “Good morning, Donny. I trust you’re hale and hearty on this fine Texas day.”

  “Your wisecracks won’t save you, Mr Rafferty. I’m instructing my lawyer to file a libel suit against you and the newspaper for your scandalous interview today. When I’m done, you won’t have a pot left to piss in.”

  “I find that a little hard to believe. I don’t recall mentioning your name at all. Neither did I give Monica your daughter’s name, or those of any other members of your family. Extended or otherwise.”

  “It’s obvious who you were referring to.” His voice wobbled just a little and I knew I had him.

  “A judge may take a very different view of that, but you do what you need to do, Donny. I should let you know that you’ve got bigger problems than what you think Monica’s article did or didn’t say.”

  “No, I don’t,” he said, but the thunderstorm sounded like it was moving away over the horizon.

  “Yes, you do. Imani is going to tell her story.” He tried to get started and I talked right over the top of him. “To the DA, I imagine, but firstly it’ll be to the cops, and you need to think very carefully about whether you want to play the role of the nurturing foster-father, supporting his new daughter through a traumatic experience as she builds a new life … or …”

  Pause. Nothing from the other end of the line.

  “Or … do you want to be seen as sitting on your hands and doing nothing while your daughter is arrested? I mean, once Bradley Wright is proven innocent, I’m not convinced that you could be charged with trying to obstruct justice but, again, any given judge may think differently. At the very least, I don’t think your brother-in-law will be too happy with the optics, no matter what the courts may say.”

  Still nothing.

  “See ya,” I said jauntily, hanging up before Donald could re-engage his mouth.

  Over the next twenty minutes I fended off phonecalls from all the major newspapers, a few TV stations, and a DJ from KRRV radio station in Sherman who wanted me as panelist on their daytime talk segment, “School shootings: The new scourge of America?”

  It was a hell
of a shame to pass up all those good opportunities, but there were a couple of specific people I was waiting to hear from, and I wanted to catch them while they were still hot.

  The next call from the DA’s office wasn’t as hot as I was expecting. More lukewarm, like a reheated burrito.

  They did threaten me with a jail term, but the associate conveyed his preference that I be incarcerated with the same enthusiasm as ordering an egg salad sandwich. Just something to be done on a very busy day and he needed to get it done as quickly as possible to be able to get onto the next thing on his burgeoning to-do list.

  He asked me if I understood what I was telling him, I told him that I’d stopped listening as soon as he said hello and we both hung up at the same time.

  What he lacked in personal engagement to his task was more than made up for by Ed Durkee.

  I couldn’t get the receiver near my ear for the first three minutes. Not that I needed to, I could hear Ed just fine from where I left the handset laying on the desk.

  Plus, it gave me time—and both hands free—to pack another pipe.

  “YOU HAVE GOT TO BE FUCKING INSANE! YOU REALLY WANT TO GO TO WAR WITH THE DPD? OVER THIS? YOU MUST BE THE STUPIDEST MOTHERFUCKER I’VE MET.”

  And more of the same. I won’t bother giving it to you verbatim, I’m sure you get the drift.

  The longer that Ed went on, the more he started to punctuate each word with a couple of heavy breaths between. When I figured he was exhausted to the point where I could hold the receiver to my ear without risking permanent hearing loss, I picked it up and spoke evenly.

  “Hi, Ed.”

  “You got the guts to ‘hi’ me?”

  “What does that even mean?”

  “It means you’ve shat in your own nest this time, Rafferty. You sold us up the river, and I wouldn’t be surprised if the whole force is gonna be looking for you. You’ll be getting parking tickets and moving violations even when you ain’t parked. Or moving. And, I’m not gonna be able to cover for you.”

  “‘Sold you up the river’? Christ Ed, this isn’t a re-run of Dragnet. ’Sides, tell me one thing I said that wasn’t true.”

  “Because of you, this morning all of Dallas is reading that their police department is hindering an investigation by not interviewing a key witness.”

  “No, that’s not what I said. Nor is it what Monica wrote. I have it here in front of me, if you’d like me to read it back to you.” He started to protest and I rolled over him. “Actually, it’s a little long but I’ll give you the gist. The DPD was approached about an important witness, who has material information relevant to the charges against Bradley Wright, and they refused to provide protection for said witness. Well written, too. Some of Monica’s best work. I’m thinking of getting it framed.”

  “Get stuffed. And anyway, what you just said is the same as what I said. Tomato, tomahto.”

  “No, Ed. No. It’s not. There’s a fundamental difference between what Monica reported and what you claim she reported. Now, what people glean from the story, well … I can’t be held responsible for that.”

  “Wrap it up in fancy words all you like, the outcome is the same. You made DPD look like fools.”

  “To be honest, Ed. It wasn’t that hard.” I heard the intake of breath and almost felt Ed’s spiking blood pressure against my ear. “But … but before you go off half-cocked at me again, and waste my time and your voice, you’re looking at this the wrong way.”

  Needed to have him along for this ride, or it wasn’t going to work. So I waited.

  “I’m listening.” Gritted teeth.

  “Okay, so there’s been a few things that haven’t gone DPD’s way on this case, right?”

  A huff of breath.

  “I’ll take that as an acknowledgment. Well, right now, you’re sitting on another one and this has the potential to be worse than all the rest. Worse than the missed phonecall, worse than missing Bradley Wright at school, the leak, the—”

  “Get on with it.”

  “Yeah. Bradley’s innocent. He—”

  “So you say.”

  “Trust me, Ed. He is. And you don’t want to be holding the bag when the truth comes out. Hernandez will let you guys take the fall for it. Nothing surer.”

  “And how are you gonna help with that? I assume you’re not telling me all this just for the sake of it?”

  “Of course not. I’ll give you the witness.”

  “Uh huh. Forgive me if I’m not overjoyed by your offer. You know we already interviewed everyone, and I mean everyone, who was there, nearby, saw, or heard anything to do with the shooting.” He let loose a big sigh. “Unless you’ve pulled someone off a United flight out of DFW who said they could recognize faces from four thousand feet.” He chuckled. “I trust I don’t need to tell you how interested I’m not going to be if that’s the case.”

  “Nope, you’ve already interviewed this witness, but they’ve been lying to you the whole time. You’ll have the chance to get the truth and deliver it to Hernandez and her team. If she uses it, then great. If not, then at least you’re the one seeking the right outcome, not pursuing justice against an innocent boy at all costs.”

  “Are you trying to hand me Bradley Wright and make it seem like some huge gesture? You know that we’ve got him under control at Parkland, I can get to him anytime I want, so you’re not doing me any favors.”

  “It’s not Bradley, and you’re not going to get anything out of him, anyway. Goddamn stubborn teenagers.”

  I sat and listened to Ed breathe for a long while.

  “What’s your angle here?” he said. “We’ve got all the witnesses already. We want to go back and re-interview anyone, we can do it anytime. You’re throwing a lot of shit in the game, but I don’t understand why.”

  “The kid’s innocent, Ed, and it’s up to me to protect him. Unless I can get you, or someone, to listen then he’s gonna go down for something he didn’t do. That does not sit well with me, and I’m going to take whatever steps I need to, to make sure it doesn’t happen.”

  Ed went silent on me again. For so long I thought we might have been cut off.

  “You might actually have a heart after all, Rafferty.”

  “Well, speaking of that, we’re getting closer to what I need from you.”

  “Goddamn it, I knew you’d want something. What is it this time?”

  “If I give you the name, you absolutely, under no circumstances whatsoever, upon pain of death—”

  “Get on with it.”

  “… can tell anyone, anyone at all, that I might be a soft touch.”

  Ed chuckled.

  “I mean it, Ed. If rumors of my sentimentality get out, I’m done. May as well just pack it all in and start teaching meditation or basket weaving.”

  “Well, as hard as it might be, I’ll do my best.”

  “That’s all I can ask.”

  “You’re on your own with Ricco, though.”

  “I figured.”

  “So now that we’ve uncovered your soft center, gimme the name.”

  “Imani Laweles.”

  “Newspaper hero chick? You sure?”

  “Yep. Do whatever you need to do to get her downtown and talking. It might not be easy, her foster-dad might want to make trouble, but if you have to arrest her, do it. She saw the whole thing, you just need to get her to say it out loud.”

  “Shit, Rafferty, that’s the Chief’s brother-in-law.”

  “If it was easy there’d be no need for men like us.”

  “You may be right, but there’s easy, and then there’s working with you, which seems to be a goddamn long way in the other direction.”

  “I don’t make these things up. I just try to unravel them.”

  “Yeah, yeah.”

  “Get on to it, Ed. With the DA moving, you don’t have a whole lotta time.”

  “Yup.”

  “And don’t let Imani go to ground. Behind Donald Beckett, or anywhere else. You’re gonna get one s
hot at this, so don’t fuck it up.”

  “I gotta go. Let you know what happens.”

  “Okay.”

  Ed hung up, another shadow knocked on the door, rattled the knob and left.

  I left the phone off the hook, put my feet up on the desk, and took a nap.

  Chapter 31

  When Ed wanted to, he could work damn fast.

  I’d only been asleep for an hour and a half before the pounding I heard in my dream morphed its way into reality to become Ricco standing on the other side of my office door thumping on the wood and calling my name.

  “Rafferty. Get out here would ya? We don’t got time to dick around.”

  On the ride to DPD he filled me in on the latest.

  “Ed’s got the Laweles chick in an interview room, just waiting on a lady detective to come in to do the talking. He wants you there, too. No talking for you, but you’ll get to watch.”

  Even in my still-waking state, I knew Ed wasn’t inviting me in as some sort of olive branch offering. He wanted me close by so that if things went head-over-ass, he wouldn’t have to go far to yell at me.

  When you’ve worked together for so long it was nice to understand each other’s thinking.

  Besides, it didn’t matter, I’d been in plenty of worse places.

  “Did you shoot a kid the other night? Over at the Wright place?” Ricco asked.

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “Yeah, yeah sure. Momma was screaming fit to burst about wanting to sue someone for poor little Tyler’s injury, lost earnings cause he’s gonna miss the draft, and all that. Funny thing though, Tyler ain’t saying much at all.”

  “Wish I could help you, Ricco, but I sleep like a log. Wouldn’t have heard the 3rd Armored division if they’d come rolling through the living room.”

  Ricco grinned, stirred his toothpick and shrugged. We rode the rest of the way in silence and it wasn’t long before I was standing on the back side of a one-way mirror watching Imani sitting in a bare interview room. Hard chair, hard table, single can of Coke.

  They hadn’t handcuffed her, so that was a good sign, I guessed.

  The door to the interview room opened and a blond woman dressed in a suit walked in, carrying a clipboard and a recorder.