The Boom Room

by Rick Blechta

  THE

  BOOM

  ROOM

  RICK BLECHTA

  Copyright © 2014 Rick Blechta

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system now known or to be invented, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  Blechta, Rick, author

  The boom room / Rick Blechta.

  (Rapid reads)

  Issued in print and electronic formats.

  ISBN 978-1-4598-0514-9 (pbk.).--ISBN 978-1-4598-0515-6 (pdf ).-

  ISBN 978-1-4598-0516-3 (epub)

  I. Title. II. Series: Rapid reads

  PS8553.L3969B65 2014 C813’.54 C2013-907630-1

  C2013-907631-X

  First published in the United States, 2014

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2013956421

  Summary: When the prime suspect in a nightclub murder turns out to be his partner’s half brother, Detective Mervin Pratt soon realizes that the case is not quite so open-and-shut as it first appears. (RL 4.2)

  Orca Book Publishers gratefully acknowledges the support for its publishing programs provided by the following agencies:the Government of Canada through the Canada Book Fund and the Canada Council for the Arts, and the Province of British Columbia through the BC Arts Council and the Book Publishing Tax Credit.

  Design by Jenn Playford

  Cover photography by plainpicture

  In Canada:

  Orca Book Publishers

  PO Box 5626, Station B

  Victoria, BC Canada

  V8R 6S4

  In the United States:

  Orca Book Publishers

  PO Box 468

  Custer, WA USA

  98240-0468

  www.orcabook.com

  17 16 15 14 • 4 3 2 1

  This one is dedicated to Ted Blechta

  for no other reason than

  you’re the greatest brother

  in the world.

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Acknowledgments

  Chapter One

  Pratt was digging into a nice plate of pasta at his favorite Italian restaurant. He knew he shouldn’t eat the stuff. But so what if a few extra pounds showed on his six-foot frame? He deserved a treat now and then.

  He was about to shovel in his third mouthful when he got the call.

  “We need help at a crime scene,” dispatch told him.

  The detective looked at his cell phone like it was a traitor. Why couldn’t they have called him last night, when he’d just gone home after work?

  With a sigh, he put the phone back to his ear. “Where?”

  “Nightclub district. A stiff’s turned up stabbed at The Boom Room. Heard of it?”

  “Yes, but not in a way that makes me eager to visit.”

  “We sent Snow and Gordon down, but Snow has pulled up lame. Gordon is alone and could use help.”

  “Why me?” Pratt asked. Everyone knew there was bad blood between Gordon and him.

  “You’re the closest to the crime scene.”

  “How do you know that?”

  The dispatcher chuckled. “We have our ways.”

  “You rat!”

  “Hey, Pratt, I’m just doing my job. Just get a doggie bag for your dinner.”

  Signaling for the waiter, Pratt sighed again. “I’ll be there ASAP.”

  It was true he wasn’t far away. But it was Friday, and traffic was impossible. Kids were flooding downtown on this latewinter evening. Pratt could have walked there faster. Even with the magnetic bubblegum light on top of his car, no one gave him an inch.

  Finally driving up to the yellow police tape, he got out. The patrolman on duty almost said something, but Pratt’s glare shut him up. His cell phone rang again.

  “Pratt here. What do you want?”

  The person at the other end laughed. “Boy, are you in a crabby mood!”

  It was Ellis, his still-wet-behind-the-ears partner. The lad had good “cop instincts,” so Pratt had taken him on. Two months later, the fit was still good. He didn’t make Pratt always feel like the old fart on the homicide squad.

  “What do you want?”

  “I hear you got called in to help Gordon,” the younger man said.

  “Bad news travels fast.”

  “Want some company? I have nothing on tonight.”

  “Suit yourself. You know how Gordon can be.”

  “That’s why I’m offering.”

  “Well, in that case, sure. You might learn something about how not to interact with the public.”

  “See you in half an hour.”

  “The traffic is horrible,” Pratt warned him.

  “It always is down there on Fridays. I’m taking transit.”

  Police tape extended across the street from both corners of the building housing The Boom Room. A large crowd pressed forward against the flimsy plastic strips. Four uniformed cops kept it back.

  The Boom Room stank of stale beer and sweat. Two distinct groups crowded around a couple of tables at the back of the long room, looking uneasily at each other. Two more uniformed cops stood nearby, keeping an eye on them. Pratt also noticed three girls sitting in a corner by themselves. One was sobbing uncontrollably. The other two were comforting her.

  The club must have been packed when the murder was discovered. Where the hell were all those people? Why hadn’t Gordon made some attempt to keep them there?

  Pratt knew one of the uniforms and went up to him. “Where’s Gordon?”

  The cop motioned with his head.

  “In the basement. Manager’s office. Crime scene guys are down there too. I have no idea what’s going on, so don’t ask.”

  Pratt headed for the door the cop had pointed to. Passing the club’s small kitchen, he saw a uniform talking with the threeman cooking crew.

  Sticking his head in, he asked, “Taking statements?”

  This cop turned and rolled his eyes.

  “Something like that. Speaking English is not their strong point.”

  “Gordon?”

  “Downstairs. Stairway’s at the end of the corridor on the right.”

  Back here, the reek of old cooking oil was added to the stench of beer. The steps to the basement were sticky and slimy at the same time. Pratt gripped the railing tightly.

  At the bottom he found a small square room. Painted flat black some years ago, it was now a dusty dark gray. A door on the left stood open. Two white-suited crime techs were in there. Pratt could clearly see the body slumped over a desk. There wasn’t as much blood as he’d expected with a stabbing.

  He didn’t need to ask where Gordon was. His loud voice could be heard behind a door marked Employees Only.

  Gordon looked up as Pratt entered. His face wasn’t friendly, but then, it seldom was when Pratt was around.

  The space was a locker room for employees and doubled as the dressing room for bands. Everything was low-rent and dirty: lockers, a few chairs, a tabl
e, a cheap metal coatrack. The full-length mirror on the back wall had a big crack through it. On a chair in front of it huddled a scared-looking twenty-something kid. Gordon motioned Pratt out of the room. He followed and shut the door.

  “Do you think it’s wise leaving your suspect alone?” Pratt asked.

  Gordon ignored him.

  “So you got sent?”

  Pratt nodded. “How come Snow isn’t here?”

  “He got sick earlier this evening. Says he has the flu. It’s bullshit. He wanted a head start on his weekend. Well, the joke’s on him. You too, for that matter. This is an open-and-shut case.”

  “That kid in the room?”

  “Guilty as sin. I was about to take him downtown.”

  Pratt raised his eyebrows. “He’s confessed?”

  “Get real, Pratt. They all say they’re innocent. Here are the facts. The kid is the leader of the band playing here tonight. He had a screaming argument with Lewis, the owner, this afternoon when they were setting up. Everybody saw it. Then he went around telling everyone what a scumbag the guy was. Said he was going to get him. The club manager heard him. A few hours later, someone sticks a knife in Lewis’s back. And guess who was always flashing a knife—including earlier this evening? The one he claims has now gone missing.”

  “That’s pretty compelling.”

  “Damn straight it is! I had to laugh when the kid said he didn’t do it.”

  “And what if he’s telling you the truth?”

  Gordon stepped right into Pratt’s face.

  “Know what your problem is, Pratt? You think you’re smarter than everyone else. Well, you’re not, and I’m going to prove it. A couple hours’ grilling downtown and this kid will fold like a cheap suitcase. You’ll see.”

  As Gordon went back into the room, Pratt was thinking it was a good thing they had CCTV in the interview rooms now. In the bad old days, cops like Gordon would have beaten a confession out of the kid.

  He sighed. Seldom was a case this easy. The problem wasn’t that he thought he was smarter than anybody. The problem was Gordon’s lack of imagination—and his laziness. If the kid got a good attorney, Gordon’s case could wind up shredded. It did look bad for the suspect, but every aspect of a case should be carefully studied. That was the only proper way to investigate a murder.

  He sometimes wished he could take the easy way out—like Gordon.

  But then, he knew, he wouldn’t be doing his job.

  Chapter Two

  Pratt moved back to the doorway of the crime scene room. Two techs in their white “bunny suits” were busy working it up. He knew better than to enter.

  “Have a minute, guys?”

  The one closest to the door took a few more photos of the body before turning.

  “Sure, Pratt. What can I do for you?”

  That was unexpected. Usually, they told detectives to bugger off and let them work.

  “Anything interesting to report?”

  The tech shrugged.

  “Pretty simple. The doc hasn’t arrived yet, but it looks like the late Joseph Lewis met his end from one stab wound in the left side of his back. Right into the heart. The death wound was made by a knife with a thin blade. Sharpened on both sides, probably with a long blade.”

  “Switch blade? Stiletto?”

  The tech nodded.

  “Death would have been very quick. You can see there’s not much blood.”

  “Any sign of the murder weapon?”

  “You can see the room is a pigsty. My guess is we won’t find the murder weapon in here, but we have to look anyway, don’t we?”

  “Let us know if anything interesting comes to light. Okay? Looks like I’m going to be upstairs for a few hours.”

  “Sure.”

  Things had to be done the right way or the case could fall apart in court in a big hurry. With Gordon so focused on his suspect, Pratt knew he wasn’t paying attention to much else. Since Snow was down for the count, at least for tonight, it was up to Pratt to attend to the important details.

  Someone else was clumping down the stairs. It was past time to post a person at the top to keep people away from the crime scene.

  Pratt turned to see his young partner, Ellis. Tall, dark-haired and decidedly handsome, he was dressed casually, but his eyes were busy, anything but off duty.

  “You got here quickly.”

  “I was already downtown for the evening,” Ellis answered, but there was something odd about the tone of his voice.

  “Why did you offer to come in on this?”

  “I know what this place is like on a Friday night. I figured you’d have your hands full.”

  “You’ve been here before?”

  “Yeah. A few times.”

  Again, the feeling something wasn’t quite right.

  Ellis continued. “Where’s the suspect?”

  At that moment, the door to the dressing room opened. Gordon frog-marched his handcuffed murder suspect in front of him.

  “What are you doing here?” he asked Ellis. “Should have expected that when I got Frick, Frack wouldn’t be far behind.”

  “I thought you could use some help. This club must have been full of people when the shit hit the fan. If you don’t want help, I’ll just leave.”

  “Suit yourself, Cubby,” Gordon shot back as he pushed his suspect toward the stairs.

  Pratt hadn’t said a word, but he was certain something had flashed between the suspect and Ellis as he’d passed by. Eyes never lied if you knew what to watch for—and when.

  “We need to talk,” he told Ellis, leading him into the empty dressing room. “What’s going on?”

  “I came down to help.”

  “Did you? That’s the only reason?”

  Ellis looked as if he might try to brazen it out. He started to speak twice, then deflated and sat down on one of the folding chairs.

  “The kid Gordon is fingering for the murder…”

  “Yeah. What about him?”

  “He’s my half brother.”

  Chapter Three

  Pratt could remember only three other times he had been rendered totally speechless. The last was when his wife had walked out on him three years earlier.

  Ellis sighed heavily.

  “I haven’t told you, but my dad was killed when I was five. Car accident. My mom remarried three years later, and the kid you just met was the result. Jamie Clark is my half brother. We haven’t had any contact in nearly five years.”

  “Reason?”

  “Well…let’s just say he didn’t see eye to eye with the rest of the family. One night we’d all had enough and my stepdad asked him to leave.”

  Pratt raised an eyebrow.

  “Asked?”

  “Okay. He booted Jamie’s ass out the door. Satisfied?”

  “Has anyone in the family had contact with him since?”

  Another sigh.

  “Obviously, my mother did. She was the one who told me Jamie was in trouble down here tonight. He always was her little darling.”

  “You sound jealous.”

  “Oddly, I think he was jealous of me, or at least envious.”

  “Why?”

  Ellis finally looked up at Pratt.

  “Because I was always ‘the good son.’ No matter what Jamie did, it was never good enough in my stepdad’s eyes. Yeah, he was a wild kid. Didn’t care about school. But there were good things about him that never seemed to count for much. His music, for instance.”

  “When was the last time you saw or spoke to him?”

  “The night he left. I was starting with the force and thought I knew it all.”

  “Then someone gave your mom the news about what happened tonight. Who was that?”

  “I didn’t think to ask.”

  Pratt wasn’t satisfied with that answer but filed it away for later.

  “So your mother told you about this mess and you thought it would be okay to come down here to check it all out?” He made sure he had his p
artner’s full attention. “Are you actually that stupid?”

  “I didn’t stop to think. Mom was really upset.”

  “Shall I lay out what you’ve probably done? Compromised this case, is all. We might not be able to take it to court because of what you’ve done.”

  “I had to do something.”

  “You want to do something? Use your brain. Get up!”

  “Why?”

  “Because I’m booting your ass out the door in order to try to save it. If they get wind of this downtown, you’re toast. Understand?”

  They went back upstairs, where Pratt loudly sent Ellis on his way, saying it was his night off and to go out and enjoy it. He hoped the other cops bought it. When Ellis’s relationship to the suspect got out—and it would sooner or later—he wanted everyone present to remember Ellis being on the scene for only a few minutes.

  At the door to the club, he leaned over and whispered, “Now get out and pray to God no one finds out you’re the suspect’s damn brother.”

  Ellis pursed his lips.

  “Sorry I let you down. I didn’t know what else to do.”

  Pratt clapped his partner on the back.

  “Just leave, okay?”

  It was a long night for someone whose evening was meant to be spent at home reading and listening to music. Pratt did that a lot now that he was alone.

  He called downtown for more help and got it pretty quickly.

  He assigned two new detectives to interview the staff. Several patrolmen were sent out to check nearby alleys and dumpsters for any sign of the murder weapon. Pratt and another patrolman took on the task of questioning the suspect’s bandmates.

  Pratt knew nothing about what passed for “kids’ music” these days, but these three musicians looked the part. One had long hair, two short, but they all looked scruffy, with tattoos, nose rings and torn clothing. They called themselves Rotten Attitude. All claimed to know “nothing at all.”

  But beneath their sneers, the detective could tell they were worried and scared. One of their own was downtown, being charged with murder. It was likely that one of them knew something useful. Pratt aimed to find out.

  To unnerve them even more, he questioned them one at a time at the far end of the club, where he could be easily seen but not heard. Although he usually sat quietly when questioning a suspect, Pratt made sure this time to gesture a lot and raise his voice. Afterward, he then sent each of them to separate tables to wait, further tightening the screws. They shouldn’t have been left together in the first place.