Faye Kellerman - Double Homicide

“Sorry,” McCain said. “I can’t tell you anything without your lawyer present.”

“Fuck my lawyer. What’re you saying?”

McCain stuck a hand in his pocket. “Why should I tell you anything when you’re not telling me anything?”

“‘Cause…” Delveccio pursed his lips. “You’re fixing me. I don’t play fixed games. Yeah, I am gonna wait for my lawyer.”

“Good choice,” said McCain. “I hope for your sake he’s not one of those guys trying to make his career outta you.”

He headed for the exit. Had his hand on the doorknob when Delveccio said, “Maybe I can give you something. ”Cause I didn’t do nothing. And that’s the truth.“

McCain kept his back to the boy.

“You hear me?” said Pappy.

McCain turned again, made eye contact. Saw Pappy’s eyes flicker. The kid licked his lips, then his soul patch.

“What?”

“Sit down,” said the kid. Ordering McCain like he was used to it. “I don’t like you over me like that.”

McCain sat.

“Here’s the deal,” said Delveccio. “I ain’t saying nothing about what happened at the club. I ain’t stupid.” He leaned across the table. Far across. McCain’s instinct was to recoil, but he held fast. Waited.

The kid said, “What I’m saying got nothing to do with Julius. It’s got to do with something else.”

“I’m listening.” McCain tried to keep his voice even. It wasn’t easy with that big scowling mug inches from his face.

Delveccio said, “Tell me what you’ll give me. ”

“Can’t do that until I know what we’re talking about, Pappy.”

“Man, you fixing me.”

“Tell you what, Pappy. Give me a hint.”

Delveccio sank back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest. “I might have an idea where a certain person that you been lookin‘ for is hiding.”

“That so?” McCain’s voice was even, but his brain was racing.

“Not that I know for sure,” Delveccio said, “but I hear things.”

“Speak to me.”

“I don’t do no time, okay?”

“That’s not gonna happen, Pappy.”

“Well… then I do the minimum. Six months for reckless firearm, whatever. City jail time, I can do that. I did that when I was fourteen.”

“That so?”

“Yeah.” Pappy grinned. “Got into a little fight with some dudes. Long time ago. Juvey record’s all sealed.”

“As it should be,” said McCain.

“Three months,” said Pappy. “I get back in time for the season.”

“The boy died, Pappy. I got to be honest with you. But I’m not saying we can’t work something out if you give me something good.”

“Believe me, it’s good.”

“Look, Pappy, I’ll do my best. What are we talking about?”

Delveccio grinned. “You’re looking for someone, right?” He made kissy noises. “Mr. Lover Boy. And that’s all I’m gonna say until you get me a deal.”

McCain stared at him.

Looking for someone.

Lover Boy.

The bastard was talking about their multiple-murder fugitive wanted in Perciville, Tennessee.

The bastard was talking about Romeo Fritt.

By half past nine, both Pappy and Lover Boy were secured behind bars. Tomorrow, Romeo Fritt would be on his way back to Tennessee, where he could get the needle. And Delveccio would board a bus to jail.

Pappy’s lawyers, upon hearing about the conversation with McCain, had tantrumed, threatened, then realized their boy had gotten a good deal. After three hours of wrangling with Harriet, the charge was involuntary manslaughter. Pappy’s sealed youth record notwithstanding, he was a first offender. He might see playing time within a couple of seasons.

Dorothy and McCain weren’t wild about the conclusion. But Change’s assertion was still death by aneurysm, and it would have been impossible to get a premeditated-murder conviction.

Even attempted murder was a stretch.

“It’s Boston,” McCain said. “You gotta know your audience. I think we did fine.”

Dorothy tightened her coat around her body. A bitter wind was whipping from the bay. The sky was dark and clear. No snow tonight, but that only made it colder. Her teeth chattered as she talked. “It isn’t going to sit right with Ellen Van Beest.”

McCain wrapped his scarf around his neck, mouth, and nose. “Pappy’s still gonna serve time, and we got a worse murderer off the streets.”

“I can’t understand what you’re saying.”

He pulled the scarf off his mouth and repeated himself. “All in all, it’s not too bad, right?”

“Yeah… How about you take Ellen’s phone call?”

McCain was silent for a moment as he retrieved the car keys from his pocket. “Let’s go out to dinner. I’m starved.”

“I want to get home to the boys.”

“Let’s take them out,” McCain said. “My treat. I’m thinking lobster. How about Legal?”

Dorothy couldn’t resist that. “You know, I am hungry. I’ll call up the boys and have them meet up with us.”

“Sounds great.” McCain opened the car door, shivering as he turned on the ignition and the heat. It took several minutes for the interior air to be breathable. “At first, I wasn’t looking forward to Christmas in Florida. You know how I feel about Florida. Now after trudging through this cold spell and not sleeping for the last couple of days, Florida doesn’t sound half bad.”

“Take me with you.”

“You’re welcome to come.”

Dorothy fished her phone from her oversize tote. She looked at the cell’s window and read her text message.

“Forget lobster. Change wants to see us right away.” McCain groaned. “It’s over.”

“Apparently not. Want me to ignore the head ghoul?” “Yeah,” McCain said. “No.” He snatched the phone from her. “Call him back but do it after dinner.”

The basement lab was pitch-dark until Change flicked on the fluorescent lights. The ceiling fixtures blinked in succession until the room was awash in glare. After Dorothy’s eyes adjusted, she took off her coat and hung it on the rack. Then she changed her mind and put it back on. It was an igloo inside.

Change said, “Evening, Detectives.”

“Just don’t tell me Julius died of a gunshot wound. Pappy’s been dealt down.”

“No, he didn’t die of a gunshot wound.” Change switched on the lights to a wall box mount, then searched through a series of large manila envelopes. “Sorry about the temperature. This shouldn’t take long at all.”

“So why couldn’t it wait until the morning?” McCain grumped.

“I thought you might want to see this,” Change said. “It could change your schedule for tomorrow.”

McCain mumbled, “Then show it to us tomorrow.”

Dorothy nudged him in the ribs. “What is it, Doc?”

“Here we go.” Change pulled a large X-ray out of an envelope and placed it on the backlit monitor.

“A chest X-ray,” McCain said.

“Exactly.”

“You found the aneurysm?” said Dorothy.

“No aneurysm. But now more than ever, I believe that Julius died of one.” Change picked up a pointer. “It should have been right around here. See this area of gray, this arch? This is where the aorta splits into the subclavian and the carotid.”

“I don’t see nothing except a bunch of ribs,” McCain groused.

“We’ll get to that in a moment,” Change said. “There’s nothing anatomically suspicious in this radiograph. Everything looks normal- No, let me modify that. Everything looks normal in the vascular department.” He turned to McCain. “So since you’re focused on the ribs, let’s look at the ribs. Twelve ribs in all.”

“Looks to me like a lot more than twelve,” McCain said.