School Days s-33

by Robert B. Parker

I kept pressing the gun. He was sweating and his face was pale. I knew it hurt, and I knew he was scared. Which was the way it was supposed to be.

  "That cop'll hear you if you shoot," Animal said.

  "Like he'll care," I said.

  "Ow, man, that really hurts, man," Animal said.

  "Like I care," I said.

  "Don't do it, man," Animal said. "I didn't do nothing to you. Gimme a break. Don't do it."

  He was stiff against the discomfort of the gun barrel.

  "You beat up George," I said.

  "Who?"

  "George, one of your girlfriends."

  "I just gave her a couple whacks, man. You ... ow, man, that hurts man ... ease it up man, please. I didn't do nothing!"

  "You got one miserable chance to live," I said.

  "Man, I'll do whatever you say. Ow, man. Stop it."

  "If you ever touch her again," I said, "I'll kill you on sight. I'll find you and I'll kill you."

  I twisted the gun barrel a little. He groaned.

  "You understand?" I said.

  "Yeah, man, I'll never touch her. I promise you, I'll never go near her."

  "If anything happens, if somebody you don't know bumps into her on his bicycle and knocks her down, anything. I will find you and shoot you into little fucking pieces."

  "Man, I'll never hurt her, I promise. I promise. I won't let no one else hurt her. Honest to God, I won't."

  I took the gun away from his face and held it at my side. He put both hands up to his face to rub the sore spot, and realized he was still holding the empty Beretta, and dropped it on the floor and pressed his hands against his face. He started to cry.

  "You got the guns from your brother," I said.

  "Wha?"

  "I talked with him, your brother Jose. He sold you the four guns for fifteen hundred dollars. You sold them to the two kids for three thousand dollars."

  "What kids?"

  I slapped him hard with my left hand.

  "Grant and Clark," I said. "One or both."

  "Grant asked me. Clark kid had the dough."

  "And you taught them to shoot," I said.

  "Yeah."

  I brought my gun up suddenly and fired into the salt a foot to the left of his head. He screamed. I fired into the salt a foot to the right of him. He doubled up, screaming, "No, no, no, no, no."

  "Don't you even look at that girl again," I said. "Ever."

  I put my gun away and walked out of the garage.

  "You shoot him?" DiBella said.

  "No," I said.

  "Probably should have," DiBella said.

  I nodded.

  "Probably," I said.

  Chapter 34

  I DROPPED GEORGE in Dowling Center. "I'll drive you home," I said.

  She shook her head.

  "Might be a good place to sort of crash a little while," I said.

  She shook her head again.

  "And you're sure Animal won't get me?"

  "He won't," I said.

  She got out of the car and lingered for a moment on the sidewalk with the car door open. Her bruises had started to yellow. Her lip was down. She was looking better.

  "Thanks for, like, helping me," she said.

  "You're welcome," I said.

  She took my card out of the pocket of her jeans and looked at it for a moment.

  "Call me if you need me," I said.

  She nodded and looked again at my card. "Bye," she said.

  "Bye."

  She closed the car door and turned and walked away, still holding my card in her hand. I watched her until she turned the corner past the town green and disappeared behind the Town Hall. Then I pulled away and found a parking spot near the Coffee Nut and parked and went in to see if the gang was around.

  They were.

  "Hey," Janey said as I came in.

  She was sitting with her friend of the white top, whose name turned out to be Erika, and Carly Simon, looking crisp in a green polo shirt and tan shorts.

  "Coffee?" he said, and nodded at the empty seat in the booth.

  I sat. Other kids in other booths looked at me covertly. Animal had made my rep, bless his heart.

  "Is George, like, okay?" Janey said.

  "She's fine," I said. "Animal has promised me that he won't bother her again."

  "You shake him up again?" Carly said.

  There was in his voice an implication of shared knowledge, as though he had shaken up a few people in his time, too. I smiled. I had known Major Johnson when he was only a little older than Carly. Different planets.

  "We reasoned together," I said. "Talk to me a little more about Jared Clark."

  "What's to tell," Carly said. "He didn't bother us; we, you know, didn't bother him."

  "Did he get bullied much?" I said.

  The girls both deferred to Carly. It's good to be a football hero.

  "No," Carly said. "Like, he didn't play ball or nothing, and he didn't joke around, and most of the time, he wasn't, like, even around. But nobody bothered him much."

  Carly looked at Erika and Janey.

  "You think?" he said.

  "No," Erika said. "He was just, like, around, and nobody really noticed him much."

  "Girlfriend?" I said.

  Janey shook her head as she thought about it.

  "I mean, he never asked anybody out," she said. "That I know about. Erika, you know anybody?"

  "Nope."

  Erika had longish nails with the tips painted white, and she admired them unconsciously while she spoke.

  "I suppose he might have hooked up with one of the loser girls, you know?" Erika said. "But we wouldn't know that anyway. None of them hang with us."

  "Was Jared a loser?" I said.

  Janey thought about the question carefully. Evidently, loser was a precisely defined category.

  "Well," Janey said, "no, not exactly, I guess. I mean, he was shy and everything. And he wasn't popular, but he wasn't a geek. He was like more of a loner."

  "But people weren't actively cruel to him?"

  All three of them shook their heads.

  "How about Wendell Grant?" I said.

  "He played ball," Carly said.

  "Any good?" I said.

  Carly shrugged.

  "He was okay," Carly said. "Big, you know. Took up a lot of room. But he was really dumb. Couldn't remember the plays. And clumsy. Coach designed a sweep right for me behind Dell, and Dell could never pull and get out there. He, like, messed it up every time. Coach finally forgot about it."

  "Was he dumb in school?"

  "Oh, you better believe it," Erika said. "He was in my geometry class and he called that guy from olden times-you know, Pythagoras. He called him Py-tha-gor-us, and we all, like, broke up, you know? Even Mrs. Root couldn't keep from laughing. Dell was pissed."

  "That sort of thing happen a lot?" I said.

  Erika shrugged.

  "We all thought he was pretty dumb," Janey said.

  "He useta carry a knife," Carly said. "You know, one of those big hunting jackknifes."

  "A buck knife," I said.

  "Yeah. Like that. Comes in a little leather case?"

  I nodded.

  "He ever use it?" I said.

  "Naw. He used to flash it around a lot when there was no teachers. But that's all."

  "He date much?" I said.

  "Ick!" Janey said.

  "That would be a no?" I said.

  "He was creepy," Janey said.

  "Like?"

  "Like, you know he'd say stuff. . . ."

  "Hey," Erika said, imitating a boy, "you girls like it rough?"

  "Did he play rough?"

  "He was the kind of guy, you're standing in line in the cafeteria and he's rubbing up against you, trying to get a feel," Janey said.

  "Yeah, one of those guys accidentally bumps your boob with his elbow," Erika said, making quote signs with her forefingers around "accidentally."

  "And he was always talking about fighting
and guns," Janey said, "and, you know, like, how tough he was."

  "Was he?"

  Again, the girls deferred to Carly. He shrugged.

  "He's big, but, like, he's a fucking buffoon, you know? Nobody was scared of him, 'cept a few pussies he could pick on. Guys on the team told him fuck off."

  "Did he pick on Jared?" I said.

  "Not that I seen," Carly said.

  "He hung out at the Rocks?"

  "Yeah," Carly said. "Animal was his freaking hero."

  "You surprised he shot up the school?" I said.

  "Hell, yes," Carly said. "I didn't think he had the balls, you know?"

  "How about Jared," I said.

  Carly shrugged. He looked at the two girls. They shook their heads. He shook his head.

  "He didn't seem the type," Carly said.

  "He was just like going about his business," Janey said.

  "He tight with Grant?"

  "Him and Dell? No," Janey said. "I never saw them hanging, you?"

  Erika said, "No."

  Carly shook his head.

  "Jared get along with the faculty?" I said.

  "I don't know," Carly said.

  "I never heard about him getting in trouble," Erika said. "I think he's seen Miss Blair a couple times. She's, you know, the guidance lady."

  "I know," I said. "You know why he saw her?"

  "Oh, Christ," Janey said. "They send you to see Blair if you're late twice. Make sure you don't have, like, a fucking emotional problem."

  "You've seen her?"

  "Sure. I told her I didn't have a problem. The school had a problem, it was fucking borrrrrring."

  We all laughed.

  "I remember it well," I said.

  Chapter 35

  I WENT TO SEE Chief Cromwell in his office at Dowling Police headquarters. DiBella had called ahead for me, so they wouldn't open fire when I arrived. But I still had to wait a long time at the front desk. I was willing to. And finally, they sent me on in.

  Cromwell mad-dogged me for a while, giving me the deadeye cop stare he was working on. I moved a chair a little closer to his desk and sat down and crossed my legs.

  "Hi," I said.

  Cromwell stared some more.

  "How ya doin'?" I said.

  More staring. Then, when he had me softened up, he spoke.

  "You just won't learn," Cromwell said.

  "I can't," I said. "Nobody tells me anything."

  "What do you want to know, for crissake. We got the killers. They've confessed. What the fuck are you after?"

  "I know where they got the guns," I said.

  "Yeah?"

  "And how they got the money to buy them."

  "Yeah?"

  "You ever have any complaints about either of them?" I said. "Clark or Grant?"

  "Yes."

  Cromwell leaned back in his chair. I noticed the pearlhandled .45 was back in its shiny holster on the corner of his desk. Looked good there.

  "Well," Cromwell said after a while. "I can't talk you out of this, and I can't seem to scare you off."

  "You could try charming me," I said.

  "Would that work?"

  "No, but I wouldn't have to punch you in the balls."

  He rocked his spring-loaded swivel a little.

  "Nobody wants this opened up," he said after a while. "The kids' parents, the school, the kids themselves."

  He looked at me heavily for a minute.

  "I don't. Town doesn't. We want to wrap it up neat and put it away and get on with it."

  "How 'bout the people who lost someone in the shooting?" I said.

  "They want it over. They know we got the bastards. They want to see them fry, and they want to move on as best they can. Nobody wants you opening up all the fucking wounds again."

  "They won't fry in this state," I said.

  "I know, just a manner of speaking," he said. "Been simpler if we'd shot them dead on the spot."

  "That would have required you all to actually go on in there and maybe interrupt things," I said.

  Cromwell nodded slowly. All of the General Patton crap seemed to have drained from him. He seemed gray and tired, almost human.

  "I know," he said. "I know."

  "You didn't know what to do," I said, "did you."

  He shook his head.

  "We're a small town," he said. "Upper-class. Quiet. We never ran into this sort of thing. Most of my guys never fired their weapons except on the range."

  "You?" I said.

  He looked at the big six-gun on the corner of his desk as if he'd never seen it before.

  "No," he said.

  "Hard to learn on the job like that," I said. "Most people aren't ready the first time."

  "God, I hope there's no second time," he said.

  "There'll be something," I said. "Sometime. And you'll be more ready."

  "You're not going to leave this alone," Cromwell said.

  "No," I said. "I'm not. Either of these kids got a history with you?"

  "I don't give out juvie files," he said.

  "I'm not looking for files. Just information. You and me. Alone in the room. Either of them been in trouble you know about?"

  "We talked to the Grant kid couple times," Cromwell said.

  He was looking past my left shoulder, out an office window, at the nice, neat stretch of lawn in front of the station. Orderly.

  "He was shooting cats with a pellet gun," Cromwell said slowly. "Strays mostly, but he got a coupla pets and the owners complained and we brought him in and talked with him and his mother. He was maybe thirteen."

  He shook his head.

  "I've met his mother," I said.

  "She just sort of said the hell with him. Like he's some sort of aberration. It's not my fault."

  "Talk to his grandfather?" I said.

  "They begged us not to. Both of them. I felt bad for the kid, tell you the truth. His mother's just a waste of time."

  "The last hippie," I said.

  "Yeah," Cromwell said. "So we confiscated the pellet gun and told him he was on probation and we were giving him a break, so if he got in any more trouble, we'd go hard on him."

  "Did he?"

  "Nothing official. I heard he hung out at the Rocks with the burnouts and freaks. But we never had any reason to bring him in again."

  "What'd you do with the pellet gun?" I said.

  "Give it to my sister's kid, lives outside Stockbridge."

  "And he probably uses it to shoot cats," I said.

  Cromwell shrugged.

  "Maybe," he said. "But he's not doing it here."

  "Anything with Jared Clark?"

  "No. Never even heard of him until the Grant kid fingered him after the shooting."

  "Ever talk with anybody about him?" I said.

  "Talked with the school shrink."

  "Dr. Blair?"

  "Yeah. You met her?"

  I nodded.

  "She's something, isn't she?"

  "She is," I said. "What did she tell you?"

  "Classic stuff," Cromwell said. "Jared was bullied a lot. Kids picked on him. Pushed him around. She feels he allied himself with Grant so that Grant would protect him."

  "Why would Grant protect him?" I said.

  "Don't know. He was the school tough guy. Big kid. Football player. Who would have thought it, him having the mother he did?"

  "Sometimes, I guess, the apple falls as far as it can from the tree," I said.

  He nodded.

  "You know of any previous connection between Clark and Grant?" I said.

  "No. But, you know how it is, they don't pop up on the screen unless they are causing trouble."

  "And these guys weren't?"

  "Except for the cat killings," Cromwell said.

  "Love to know how they got together," I said.

  "Maybe Blair knows," Cromwell said. "Ask her. Be a good excuse to talk with her."

  "I will," I said. "Maybe she'll show me her knees."

  "You gonna
tell me about where they got the guns?" Cromwell said.

  "No," I said.

  "Isn't that sort of like withholding evidence?" Cromwell said.

  "It's not like you need it for a conviction," I said.

  Cromwell nodded.

  "Just thought I'd ask," he said.

  Chapter 36

  IT HAD BEEN a wet summer. Outside my office window, it was raining again. I was watching it. Pearl was resting on her couch. Later, when the excitement died down, I might read the paper. My phone rang. Pearl had no reaction. She didn't care about phones. I didn't, either, but somebody had to answer, so I picked it up.

  AN HOUR LATER, Pearl and I pulled up in front of the Dowling village market. The rain was steady but not abusive.

  Through the steady sweep of the wipers, I saw him in front of the market, the red-haired kid from the Rocks. He was pressed against the front of the building, trying to stay dry. He was wearing the zippered top of a warm-up suit, his cap on backward, and sucking on a cigarette. His jeans were baggy, and his sneakers were black Keds high-tops. Retro. When he got in the front seat, Pearl growled at him from the back.

  "What's wrong with him?" the kid said.

  "Her," I said. "She doesn't like you."

  "She bite?"

  "Not today," I said.

  I reached back and patted her. He hunched forward and a little sideways in the passenger seat, away from Pearl.

  "Where we going," I said.

  "How much is the reward?" he said.

  "Depends on what you show me," I said.

  "I'm going to take you where they did a lot of shooting,"

  "So you said. Let's go there and see what we see."

  "But there's some reward."

  "Absolutely," I said.

  I couldn't figure out what I was going to get from this, but Spenser's Crime Buster Rule #8 is Always look.

  We drove past the park that backed up to the Rocks, and down a narrow road that skirted the west end of the lake, and parked in a dirt turnaround next to a rutted dirt road.

  "It's down this road," he said.

  I nodded. We got out of the car. Pearl didn't like the rain much, but she loved the woods. She struggled with her ambivalence for a moment and then committed to the woods. I took my gun out from under my raincoat and put it in my raincoat pocket. Then I started back up the paved road we'd just driven down.

  "Hey," the red-haired kid said, "where you going. It's in here."