Faye Kellerman - The Ritual Bath

“That isn’t conclusive, Pete.”

“No,” Decker admitted. “But the whole thing stinks, Captain. The evidence was dropped in our laps like manna from heaven. The knife was delivered to our doorstep, unwashed . Now, who the hell kills someone, with an identifiable weapon no less, and doesn’t bother cleaning off prints and blood?”

“All right,” Morrison said. “Let’s concentrate on what we know. We know Schmidt was at the murder scene. We have a murder weapon that belongs to Schmidt. We also know that Schmidt wasn’t alone. But we don’t have anything on his buddies. Unless Schmidt turns state’s evidence, we won’t have anything on his buddies.”

“That about sums it up,” Decker says.

“Let’s do it this way,” said Morrison. “Let’s not promise anything until the kid talks. Then we’ll see about a deal.”

“Ronson won’t let him talk without a trade,” said Birdwell.

“Then his client will be charged with Murder One,” the captain said.

“What about his friends?” Birdwell asked.

“If the kid won’t talk, we can’t get his friends,” Morrison said. “We’ll go with what we have.”

The three of them entered the interview room.

“Do we have a deal?” Ronson asked, fingering his vest. Morrison looked at Decker and nodded for him to start.

“What happened the night of the murder, Cory?” Decker asked.

“Don’t answer that,” the P. D. responded. “Gentlemen, what’s going on?”

“We’d like to hear Mr. Schmidt relate the events that led up to the murder,” Decker said.

“Mr. Schmidt is not going to talk until we do some negotiating,” said Ronson.

“Then we’re charging your client with premeditated murder. You take over from here,” Morrison said to Birdwell. “Meeting is adjourned.”

He walked out of the room, followed by Ronson hot on his heels.

“Captain, this is absurd. You know the boy wasn’t alone. You’re willing to let murder accomplices go free?”

“I am if you are.”

“You’re willing to mark one to take the fall for three others?”

“There were three others, Counselor?”

Ronson swore to himself.

“Make me an offer, Captain. Give me something to work with.”

“I won’t give you a damn thing until I hear the kid’s story. Suppose I hear it and decide I sold out for bullshit. I’d feel awfully bad.” Morrison stopped walking, faced Ronson, and smiled cryptically. “It’s up to you, Counselor. Why don’t you consult your client and let him decide?”

“Come on, Captain. Let’s be reasonable about this.”

Birdwell caught up with the two of them, smiling.

“Cory wants to sing.”

“Oh shit!” Ronson exclaimed.

The P. D. rushed back into the interview room.

“Don’t say anything,” he ordered Cory.

“Fat fucking lot of good you did me, faggot,” Cory spat. “I want another lawyer.”

“Just keep your mouth shut .”

“Hey, I’m the one being fucked over, not you.” Cory looked at Decker. “Man, I didn’t off her. I swear I didn’t off her. You gotta help me out, Decker.”

“Why don’t you tell me what happened, and then maybe we can do something.”

“Don’t say a word-” shouted Ronson.

The boy ignored him.

“They’re fucking me over !”

“Who’s fucking you over, Cory?” Decker asked, soothingly.

“What are you gonna do for me if I tell you?” the boy asked.

“First, let’s hear what you’ve got to say.”

Morrison and Birdwell returned shutting the door behind them.

“Mr. Schmidt,” the P. D. said loudly, “as your legal counsel, I am advising you not to speak until I’ve had a chance to confer with these gentlemen alone. I’m requesting you to go back to your-”

“And I’m requesting you to leave me the fuck alone!”

“They’re bluffing, Cory,” Ronson tried again. “Let me handle this.”

“We’re not bluffing,” Morrison said. “And we’re not promising you a goddam thing, Schmidt. But we’ve got ears, and we’re willing to listen.”

“I want to know what’s in it for me,” the kid said shakily.

“Nothing,” Decker answered. “But look at it this way. You’ve got premeditated murder on the other side. And that’s a capital offense. And you’re over sixteen, buddy. That means you’re going to be tried as a big boy, and you’re going to pull some hard time.”

Decker leaned in close and whispered.

“You’re gonna get your ass reamed, Cory.”

“Captain, I object to your detective’s scare tactics and won’t hesitate to cite them as grounds for appeal if you obtain a confession. I demand a moment alone with my client.”

“The hell with you,” Cory spat out. To Decker he said: “I wanna just say one thing. You gotta understand-I didn’t kill no one. I’m innocent!”

“Look here, kid,” Ronson said, snapping a pencil. “I don’t need this shit. I’m trying to help you.”

“Fuck you.” Cory returned his attention to Decker. “I can talk, can’t I?”

“Of course-”

“Do you understand that everything you say will be used against you, Cory?” Ronson said.

“Yeah, I understand. Man, let’s just pretend it went this way. I’m not saying it did. Let’s just pretend that it did, got it?”

“Cut the crap, Schmidt,” Morrison barked. “And when you address me, you use sir or captain . If you can’t get that straight, you’re going back to your holding pen. Got it?”

“Okay, okay. I just want to make it clear that this is just pretend.”

“Fine, Mr. Schmidt,” the captain said, checking the cassette recorder to make sure it was working properly. “It’s all theoretical.”

Ronson pulled out a pen and poised himself for writing. “You’re sealing your death warrant, Mr. Schmidt.”

“Hey, I know what I’m doing. Like the captain says, it’s thredical.”

“Just get on with it, Cory,” Decker pressed.

The boy placed both hands on the table and ran his tongue over his lips.

“Man, you gotta believe me when I say this. I didn’t know what was gonna go down. It wasn’t planned, man. I swear to you, I didn’t know shit. Man, it was the dust . Never would have happened if we weren’t flying on dust. I mean we weren’t thinkin’ too clear, man. I mean, I didn’t know what the fuck was going down.”

“What happened?” the captain said impatiently.

“ Maybe we started off just sitting around, smoking joints dipped in dust, bullshitting about the kikes. Hey, man, nobody wanted ’ em here. They just came, and nobody wanted ’em. Man, those kikes are weirdos. They ain’t American. They’re all spies for Israel, and they come here to bleed us of all our money and give it away. Man, we don’t need any fuckin’ foreigners telling us how to run our country, right? And that Jew bitch got us into trouble.

“Then maybe one of my friends said, ‘Let’s go down and kick some ass at Kiketwon.’ He said it. Maybe I didn’t say anything. I swear I didn’t say a word.”

“Go on, Cory,” Morrison said with exaggerated boredom.

“So, man, we was all flying and charged up. Man, we felt so good, ’cause maybe we did a few rocks of coke also. So we got on our bikes, and maybe we went down there. Hey, there’s no law against looking the place over, right?

“So maybe we did a little more, like hopping over the fence, and one of my friends maybe asked me for my buck knife. Man, I swear I didn’t think he was gonna do anything with it. Just maybe kick a little ass or maybe scare a little kike bitch into spreading her legs. I mean I didn’t think he’d want to waste anybody.