Raffi Yessayan - 2 in the Hat

The computer geek hit a key and Figgs’s contact information filled the blue screen.

Figgs straightened his rumpled jacket and took a seat.

The superintendent took the podium again. “There’s been a lot of misinformation about the Shot Spotter. I’m going to turn the microphone over to the Deputy from Operations to explain the system in more detail. He’ll speak about what this technology can and can’t do for our cases.”

Figgs walked toward the exit of Police Headquarters. That had been one long meeting. It was already getting dark. He needed a cigarette.

“Sergeant Figgs.” He heard his name as he reached the glass door. Behind him in the cavernous lobby he saw two familiar faces. “Hi, Sergeant.” The ADA stuck out his hand. “Connie Darget. I was at the Ellis Thomas murder scene.”

Figgs nodded.

“You remember Detective Mark Greene from District Two. We’re investigating the Tracy Ward shooting. Whatever started that beef has led to your two homicides. Ward told us that Tinsley shot him. He named Ellis Thomas as a witness. The next day we had Thomas and his mother up the grand jury. A few hours later, he turns up dead. Seems obvious that Tinsley or someone in his crew was responsible for killing Thomas.”

“I know that,” Figgs said. “But I don’t have any witnesses putting Tinsley anywhere near Thomas. No one’s talking about what happened.”

“Tinsley wasn’t too cooperative with us,” Darget said. “We served him with a grand jury subpoena. He blew it off. I went to see the judge in the first session and get a Capias for him. Detective Greene scooped him up the next night. We had him up the grand jury a few days after Thomas was killed.”

“He was a jerk,” Greene said.

Darget said, “Part of the new generation of kids who aren’t afraid of anything. When you’re young, you do stupid things thinking you’re invincible. Driving like a nut on the J-Way, jumping off a cliff at the Quincy quarries.”

“What’s your point, Mr. Darget?” Figgs asked.

“First, I figured Tinsley was thinking the same way. But he wasn’t. Just the opposite. He decided he didn’t have much time left. He was what, seventeen years old? He believed by the time he was twenty, twenty-one, he was going to be dead or in jail for life anyhow. He said he’d rather be dead.”

“Got his wish,” Figgs said.

“We tried to get through to him,” Darget said. “I told him to think about his mother. If he gets killed, she’s the one suffering for the rest of her life. If he’s in prison, she’ll be doing the time too.”

“Tinsley wasn’t buying it,” Greene said.

“He told us he wanted to sow his seed to carry on the family name. Needed to back his boys. His loyalty to his crew was more important than any bond he had with his mother,” Darget said.

“What did he tell you about the shootings?” Figgs asked.

“Said he didn’t know anything about them,” Greene said. “He had no trouble with Ward or Thomas.”

“We asked if he was beefing with anyone,” Darget said.

“Told us he could take care of himself,” Greene said. “But we knew someone was going to retaliate against him. That’s why the super ordered the Strike Force to follow him. See what he was up to. Did a day in the life, followed him around for a week.”

“They come up with anything?” Figgs asked.

“No. Tinsley must have known he was being watched.”

“That’s one thing you got right,” Figgs said. “Too bad he didn’t catch on it was the bad guys following him.” He opened the door to leave. He lit his cigarette in the foyer and stepped out into the night.

Alves spotted Connie standing with Mark Greene in the main lobby of Schroeder Plaza. “Not the person I want to run into right now,” Alves said. He’d taken a thousand calls from Connie trying to get the scoop on the case.

“I thought he was your bff,” Mooney sniped.

“Connie’s getting to be a pain. Seems to think that he can catch the killer. Since the Blood Bath case, I’ve been more careful about giving out information on an open investigation.” Alves knew he had said too much to Connie during that case. And that Connie may have unwittingly fed that information to Mitch Beaulieu, the killer.

“Where’s the third Musketeer?” Mooney asked.

“Ahearn?” Greene asked. “Got stuck with the super after the meeting.”

“Hey, Angel, I’ve been meaning to call you,” Connie said. “Anything new on Steadman and Kipping?”

“I haven’t caught him yet. How’s that for an update?”

“Thanks for ditching me with the super.” Ahearn joined them.

“These meetings would be vastly improved by the addition of an open bar,” Mooney laughed. “No one shares information. No one trusts anyone else. Speaking of which,” Mooney turned to Connie, “who are those two guys you were talking to before the meeting?”

“A couple of the mayor’s Street Saviors. The white guy is Rich Zardino.”

“Richie Z,” Mooney said. “Two-bit hood from East Boston. Convicted murderer.”

“He was exonerated,” Connie said. “Wrongly convicted.”

“Sure he was. Once in a while a guy gets lucky enough that all the witnesses against him are dead. Then he gets some new witness to come forward and tell a different story. The next thing you know he’s a big hero. ‘Wrongly convicted’ by a corrupt system.” Mooney was winding up for one of his rants.

“His case is a little different,” Alves said. “The only witness who testified against him was a federal informant. Turns out the witness lied about Zardino to give the feds someone to send to jail for an unsolved mob hit.”

“I’m sure he did something he deserved to go to jail for,” Mooney said.

“We had a run-in with him and his sidekick the other night,” Greene said. “His buddy acts like he’s a lawyer instead of an ex-con.”

“He’s lucky I didn’t give him a beating,” Ahearn said.

“Goes by the name Luther,” Connie said. “He did time in state prison on a home invasion. Shot someone.”

Mooney shook his head. “Luther what?”

“He only gave us Luther.”

“That’s not his real name,” Mooney said. “He used to be a little thug. I remember the face.”

Mooney had a gift for faces. He could thumb through a stack of Arrest Summary Reports and remember most of the faces.

“Darius Little,” Greene said. “I looked into his background after the incident the other night.”

“That’s it,” Mooney said. “They used to call him D-Lite. No criminal history when he was younger, but his big brother was no good. Darius went away to college down South. Played football, Division One. Great running back. He was home from school one summer when his brother lost a gunfight and ended up dead. Darius never went back to school. Then he’s in the mix with his brother’s old crew. Kid became a one-man crime spree, and the man he shot ended up in a wheelchair. His lawyer got him in front of the right judge. Took eight to ten on a plea deal. Only nineteen at the time.”

“You know quite a bit about him,” Alves said.

“I investigated the brother’s death. Darius flipped out at the scene. Had to cuff him to calm him down. We never caught the killer, and Darius still holds a grudge. Said I didn’t work the case hard enough. Said I was too busy working the Prom Night case.”

“Apparently, he found Christ in prison,” Greene said.

“Great program the mayor has there,” Mooney said. “Let’s pair up ex-cons, or ‘ex-offenders’ as he calls them, and send them out on the street so they can teach gang kids how to become better criminals.”