Crimes on Latimer: From the Early Cases of Marco Fontana

by DeMarco, Joseph R. G.

  “Sounds like you get to see a lot.”

  “One time, I heard Bidding slap Damian. Now, it’s his son, so I didn’t say anything. But I don’t believe in hitting kids.” She punctuated this with a sharp nod.

  She dropped a few more stories about Bidding and his son and some of the students but she became increasingly uncomfortable speaking ill of the dead. When I made as if to leave, she began to tell me what a wonderful job Bidding had done at the school and how the kids all respected him even if they didn’t like him.

  “And that’s the way he should be remembered. When you write your article. Come back in and I’ll have some thoughts written down so you can use ‘em as quotes. Okay, hon?”

  Backing out the door, I nodded. “I can use that kind of thing, Mrs. MacFee. Thanks. And thanks for talking.”

  Her eyes went all soft and she winked. “Anytime, hon.”

  I could tell she knew even more than she was telling and had her finger on the pulse of the underground at school.

  ***

  I needed to get to my locker in the old building before first period class. But, since I was in the new building, I figured I might as well take a look at the scene of the crime. I didn’t want to, I just felt I had to. I’m not ghoulish. I don’t feed off things like that. But something told me I needed to see it and maybe there’d be something I could use to help Mr. Sullivan.

  The door to the back stairwell wasn’t far from Bidding’s office. Opening the door, I stepped into an even quieter world. It’d be chaos once the bell rang. For now, I could explore without interruption. The “accident” happened two floors up so I started climbing. My footsteps echoed off the walls and made the hair at the back of my neck stand on end. It was dank and I felt clammy for no real reason.

  The police had been here, doing whatever it is they do at a crime scene. So, I wasn’t sure exactly what I’d see, but I kept climbing.

  Finally I reached the landing where Bidding must have hit the floor. There was no chalk outline, I’d heard that police don’t really do that. But I felt surprised anyway. Still, there were signs that someone had been here, scraping things for evidence and whatever else they do.

  I walked over the spot where he probably lay dead as a stone and stood at the bottom of the staircase he’d tumbled down. A shudder ran through me and I felt cold.

  The silence around me became oppressive. I didn’t particularly want to be alone but I had to do this.

  Edging forward, I placed my hand on the cold, metal bannister. There was a slick residue, as if someone had sprayed oil over the length of it. It hit me then that whoever set this up wanted to make sure the disciplinarian had nothing to grab onto to break his fall.

  In my mind’s eye, I could see Bidding madly grasping for a hold on the bannister and slipping every time. I could almost feel his great bulk falling down the long flight from the top floor landing, hitting steps and finally breaking his neck on the landing.

  I shuddered again. But I kept climbing.

  As I neared the top of the flight, something caught my eye: a small hole in the wall at ankle level. I’d overheard some of the adults talking abut a tripwire. This must’ve been where it had been attached at one end.

  Funny that Bidding, who noticed every hair out of place on students, didn’t notice a set up like this.

  Unless he’d been distracted by something unexpected. Or, someone.

  There was nothing else to see, so I turned back around and began walking down the steps. Again, I imagined Bidding tumbling, smashing into the concrete steps. I put out a hand unconsciously and it slipped on the oily bannister. I nearly went head over heels and it was only luck that forced me to steady myself.

  I stood absolutely still for a moment. The silence and the idea of what had gone on here and that someone was behind it all gave me the creeps.

  One thing I knew, though, Mr. Sullivan couldn’t have done this. This was a cold plan, a calculated plan. Mr. Sullivan wasn’t like that. Visiting this place may have creeped me out, but it also made me sure Sullivan was innocent.

  ***

  The bell sounded and I slammed my calculus book shut. My head was swimming. Nothing in the class ever made sense. If it wasn’t a requirement, I wouldn’t come near a math class.

  Eighth period was my free period, and I’d agreed to meet Cullen in the newspaper office before the staff meeting I’d scheduled. At lunch I’d given him a list of the names Wheelan and MacFee had mentioned. He said he’d see what he could find out before the end of the day.

  Cullen was resourceful and, because he was a Crew god, everyone looked up to him. Some of the kids would do just about anything he asked. I often wondered what it’d be like to have that kind of power over people. But it never seemed to faze Cullen. He never abused whatever influence he had. I admired that.

  I trudged up the stairs, my backpack weighing me down, making me think again that June couldn’t come fast enough. But I also wondered about Mr. Sullivan and how crappy he must feel being thrown out like that. If I was him I wasn’t sure I’d want to come back. But I guess I didn’t have to worry about paying the bills the way he did.

  It was quiet. No one would be around until the last bell sounded, and that suited me fine. I needed quiet to get rid of all the math rumbling around in my head. I unlocked the door, threw my backpack on the floor and stretched out onto the couch. Before I drifted off, Cullen popped into the room and shut the door behind him.

  “The Great Fontana is catnapping? Do I believe my eyes?” Cullen smirked, which drew his already handsome face into a particularly nice expression. His blond hair was longer than usual, which he blamed on crew practice and no time for a haircut. He leaned back on the door and waited for me to shake off the sleepiness.

  I couldn’t help but smile because it felt as he were protecting me from something, as he’d always done. He’d taken me under his wing when we were freshmen and I was younger than everybody else by a lot. He’d never let me down, so I knew I could count on him to help me now.

  “Calculus is brutal. I could hardly keep my eyes open.” I yawned and sat up.

  “Good thing you don’t need calculus to put a newspaper out. Of course…”

  “Nooo! No math lectures. I’ve got a headache.”

  “Okay, okay.” He laughed and sat in one of the threadbare soft chairs some newspaper staffer from years before had hauled into the office long ago. Flipping one leg over the arm of the chair, he sat spread-legged before me. He liked teasing, even if he wasn’t conscious that’s what he was doing. Of course he might be aware somewhere deep down inside. Could be it all really meant something and maybe I’d get to find out some day. If I was lucky.

  “Listen to this!” he said breaking my thoughts.

  “What? Did they arrest someone else?”

  “No. But listen to what I heard. You might’ve heard it too if you weren’t being a lazy ass and sleeping on the couch.”

  “I wasn’t slee— oh, just tell me.”

  “I was on my way here and I passed Mr. Coyle’s office,” Cullen said. Coyle was the senior counselor and his office was down another corridor on this floor. “He was talking and… well… I kinda listened in for a minute.”

  “Anything interesting?”

  “Maybe.”

  He smiled at me, and for a moment I almost forgot what he was talking about.

  “Hello? Earth to Marco… you wanna hear what I heard?”

  “Of course, I was just thinking.”

  “Sure you were. Well, Coyle was yakkin’ on his phone and I heard him say some rotten things about Sullivan. Names and things you don’t want me to repeat. Claimed that Bidding was blackmailing him, Coyle, just like Bidding must’ve been blackmailing Sullivan. Except Coyle said that he wasn’t as stupid as Sullivan had been because he never put anything on paper like Sullivan had done. That make sense to you?”

  “Yeah. Yeah it does. He say anything else?”

  “Gets worse. Coyle said he was sure they wouldn�
�t find out what Bidding held over his head. And that they’d never trace anything back to him or find out whatever it was that he did.” Cullen nodded his head emphatically, his blond hair ruffled. “Sounds like Coyle has something to hide.”

  “No way. He said that?”

  “Sure. But you know how it is, it sounds bad but it might not be.”

  “Point is that there’s someone else the detective should be looking at.” I ran a hand through my hair and stretched. “Bidding made a lot of people angry. The police probably stopped looking at anyone else once they had Sullivan.”

  “That’s exactly what Coyle said on the phone. He thinks they’ll stop looking now that they’ve got Sullivan.”

  “I won’t stop looking. Coyle doesn’t know that.”

  “Sullivan’s lucky you’re on his side.”

  “Did you manage to see any of the guys on the list I gave you?” I smiled, thinking how nice it would have been if Cullen had worn his running shorts instead of long pants.

  “I talked to a few of them, and I managed to tail two of them at school. They never knew they had somebody on their ass. That was so cool. I might even be good at this private eye stuff.”

  “We’ll both have to be good to get Mr. Sullivan off the hook. Did you see or hear anything that might help?”

  “From what I already know about that bunch, Nalan is the ringleader.”

  “Nalan? He’s dumb as a rock. He’s the pack leader?”

  “I didn’t say he has brains, and neither do the other kids he hangs with. Somehow he gets them to do whatever he says.”

  “Figures. Dumb leads dumber.”

  “I followed Nalan for a while and listened in on him and his buds in the cafeteria. He’s pretty vicious and controlling. I hated everything about him. He’s like an ugly little mole on the face of life,” Cullen said, his face twisted in an expression of distaste.

  “Yeah and there’s never a good dermatologist around when you need one.”

  “I followed him after he left the caf. Nalan swaggered around like he owned the school. I stayed close enough to see what he did. Which was mostly nothing. Except for one thing…” Cullen paused. I even thought he sorta winked, knowing I’d explode if he didn’t finish telling me what he’d seen.

  “And… and?”

  “I saw him go to where Bidding took his fall. I tried staying hidden but for a minute I thought he knew I was there and that’s why he went into the stairwell. I figured he wanted to trap me in a secluded place.”

  “What’d you do?”

  “I realized I was wrong. He’s too stupid to notice me tailing him.”

  “He actually went to the crime scene?” That was odd. I needed more information. “So what was he doing in the stairwell?”

  “At first I couldn’t figure it out. I crept as close as I could so I could see in through the window in the door. Looked to me like he was reading something on the wall. But while I watched, Mr. Crejewski came up the stairs, saw Nalan, and yelled for him to stop whatever it was he was doing. Nalan said, ‘Fuck you, baldy.’ and ran down the steps laughing. After everything was clear, I went to see what Nalan had done.”

  “Which was…?” I tried not to snap at Cullen.

  “Okay, okay. Nalan had scrawled something on the wall. Maybe Crejewski chased him off before he finished or maybe not. It said, ‘In Nomine Pat…’ All in caps. I know what it means, but it seems meaningless in that spot.” He stared at me.

  “That’s all? ‘In Nomine Pat…’? That’s the whole thing?”

  “That’s all I saw. I was six inches away from the wall. Couldn’t have been clearer. He used a permanent marker. My mother hates stuff like that. Says it’s nearly impossible to clean. If I ever did anything like that, she’d put my ass in a sling for a month. Nalan’s a menace.”

  “Why would he be writing a blessing on the wall?” I said.

  “I don’t think Nalan was marking a prayer on the wall. Especially since he didn’t get along with Bidding from what I hear.”

  “In Nomine Pat… Maybe it’s complete the way it is? Think that’s possible?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Well it sounds like the beginning of ‘In nomine patris et filli’ and so on. But what if instead of meaning ‘In the name of the father and of the son…’ Nalan was just writing ‘In the name of Pat”? Bidding’s first name was Patrick.”

  “Makes sense in a sick kind of way, but do you think Nalan is smart enough to use Latin like that?”

  “It’s something we all know from grammar school. It doesn’t take much of a mind to change the phrase in such a simple way.”

  “You could be right,” Cullen said.

  “Maybe I should have a talk with Nalan. Find out what’s going on.”

  “You sure that’s safe? You don’t know what to expect from him. I’m coming with you.”

  “I can handle myself,” I said flexing my arm like a comic book character. I didn’t work out like the Crew team, but I spent time in the school’s weight room a few days a week. And my cousin Tony had taught me a few things about protecting myself and being street smart. Of course, I didn’t carry a gun, like Tony recommended. But I learned plenty of other useful things from him.

  “Nalan is pretty vicious. I should be there.”

  “I may not be a Crew god like some people I know.” I gave him as sidelong glance. “But I do live in South Philly and you learn a thing or two.”

  “If you say so. But I’d feel better if I came with you.”

  “People like Nalan are cowards. But if you wanna come along, I can’t stop you.” Actually I thought it’d be good to have a witness in case anything did happen.

  “And maybe after we can go to your house for dinner?”

  Now things became clear. Cullen loved my mother’s cooking and he used any excuse to wangle an invitation.

  “Sure. Mom loves company, and she especially swoons over you. You’re so blond. You’re like from another planet. She loves that.”

  “Cool! Let’s go get Nalan’s address from the office.”

  “Better idea, let’s get it from Mrs. MacFee. That’d be easier.”

  When we neared Bidding’s old office, I spotted Detective Bynum talking with Mrs. MacFee. She was sitting behind her desk like a queen bee in a hive. Student runners stood waiting for her to give them something to do, but her attention was on the detective. As we got closer I heard her plaintive tone.

  “I don’t know what things are coming to, Detective.” she said as we entered the office. “Things are terrible here.”

  “I know what you mean, ma’am. This generation, what do they call it? Generation X, right? This generation is plain ornery. Do anything. Just as long as they get what they want.”

  “Hey, Mrs. MacFee,” I said when she turned and noticed me. “What’s wrong?”

  “Marco,” she said. “This is Marco Fontana, detective. And that’s Cullen Haldane. These two are not like the others. Good boys is what they are. Never a hiccup. Always on the level.” She smiled at us and I noticed Cullen blushing.

  “I’ve had the pleasure of meeting Mr. Fontana,” the detective said. Only it didn’t sound like he’d been pleased to meet me.

  “They wouldn’t do things like that,” she waved her hand toward the door to Bidding’s inner office.

  “What’s goin’ on?” Cullen asked.

  “Lookit. Look what some kid did to my – uh – Mr. Bidding’s door.”

  Cullen and I moved closer to the door. Scrawled in black under the nameplate was: “The Kronos Elect” And there was a deep slash through Bidding’s name.

  “What do you make of that? You kids have any idea what it means?” MacFee stood and walked over to the door. She rubbed at the letters with her finger but they didn’t even smear. “Can’t get it off. They must’a used permanent marker. These kids are rotten.”

  “Any ideas, Cullen?” I asked as I thought about what it meant.

  He stared, a look of concen
tration twisting his face into a squinty-eyed look.

  “Nope. Doesn’t mean a thing to me,” he said finally.

  “Sounds like a club, doesn’t it?” I said.

  “Yeah, but there’s no club like that here.”

  “Just destructive nonsense,” the detective said. “Not worth the bother, in light of other things.” The detective leaned against the door jamb and gave us all a knowing look.

  “It just makes me crazy, is all,” MacFee said.

  “The detective’s right, Mrs. M,” I said, though I continued staring at the words. Something about them nagged at me. The reference was classical and I had a feeling it wasn’t as pointless as the detective thought. But I couldn’t figure it out.

  Besides, I’d promised myself that I’d get to the bottom of Bidding’s murder so I could help Mr. Sullivan. The graffiti wasn’t putting me any closer to doing that.

  “Why’d they put it on Bidd— sorry, Mr. Bidding’s door?” Cullen asked. “I mean, why not the outer door?”

  Easier to get away with it,” MacFee said. “I took a coffee break earlier. Now, when Mr. Bidding was still here, I’d just walk out and take my break. Never locked up because he was there, y’know? Never had to worry about things. I guess I forgot he wasn’t there anymore.”

  We got Nalan’s address after making up some excuse about an assignment for having to see him.

  “Sorry about the door,” I said as we left.

  “Don’t give it another thought. Maintenance will have to clean it. I’m not gonna let it bother me. It’s not gonna get me down,” she said and went back to directing the office like she owned the place.

  On the way out, the detective walked along with us.

  “Why do I get the feeling you two aren’t going to see this Nalan kid because you need to finish an assignment like you told the nice lady in there?”

  “Busted!” Cullen said. “That’s why you’re a detective. I guess the excuse was pretty lame.”

  “Lame’s not the word,” I said. “Doesn’t matter. We’ve gotta talk to him.”

  “Tell me you’re not gonna do somethin’ foolish,” the detective said. “You know somethin’ you gotta let me know. Wasn’t that the deal?”