"Double Homicide" - читать интересную книгу автора (Kellerman Faye, Kellerman Jonathan)

7

McCain walked Marcus through the club and out. The air was bitter, burning McCain’s throat and lungs with each inhalation. Flashes of light danced through the inky sky, from the blinking strobe bars atop emergency vehicles, the hazy streetlamps, cops’ flashlights, the intrusive winks of cameras. McCain hadn’t walked more than a few steps before a microphone was shoved in his face.

That Hudson guy-night-shift drone on one of the local stations.

“Derek Hudson, Detective. Can you tell us what’s going on inside?”

McCain regretted keeping his shield pinned to his coat. “Not really.” He pulled the brim of his cap over his ears and kept a firm hand on Marcus’s arm while scanning the area for an empty cruiser.

Just as McCain got past Hudson, a young woman pushed her way to the front, a face McCain didn’t recognize. She was covered head to toe in outerwear and had to lower the scarf around her mouth to talk. “Liz Mantell from CNN. We’ve seen lots of gunshot victims being taken away on stretchers. What led up to the shootings, Detective?”

Her teeth were chattering as she spoke. A minute of exposure and already the bottoms of McCain’s feet felt like ice. And this without winds coming off the Back Bay. Even in the dim light, the reporter’s nose was bright red. McCain felt sorry for her, shivering in single-digit temperatures. But not that sorry.

“No comment.”

She tagged along. “So there definitely was a multiple shooting?”

“Nothing has been confirmed.”

“What about members of the basketball team from Boston Ferris being involved?”

“You tell me.”

She noticed Marcus. Smiled prettily. “Are you from Boston Ferris?”

“You got it half right,” McCain said. “He’s from Boston. Excuse me.”

Finally spotting an empty car, McCain dragged Marcus over, flashed his gold shield, asked the uniform there if he could borrow the backseat. Liz Mantell dogged his ass, a video cameraman picking up her valiant attempt to get the Big Story.

“Are you on the basketball team?”

McCain didn’t let Marcus answer. He opened the back door to the cruiser, lowered the boy’s head, and pushed him inside.

“Is he a suspect, Detective?”

McCain didn’t answer and slid in next to Marcus.

“A morgue van has just pulled up,” Mantell persisted. “How many fatalities were there?”

McCain smiled and shut the door, almost taking off the reporter’s fingers. The interior was as dark and icy as a crypt. He stretched over the seat, managed to switch on the ignition. Cold air spilled out of the vents. Within a minute the air turned tepid.

McCain turned to Marcus, who’d buried his face in his suede gloves. Finally, the boy looked up. “I’ll tell you what I told Mama. Nothing. ”Cause I didn’t see anything.“

“You weren’t with Julius?”

“No, I wasn’t with Julius. He was upstairs being butt-wiped by some shoe company conglomerate.”

“Isn’t that against NCAA rules?”

“Not if he didn’t take anything.”

“You think he paid for his own drink?”

Marcus frowned. “That is not the bling the board is concerned about.”

“But if someone reported him, Marcus, he could get into trouble, right?”

“Yeah, I guess. But who’s gonna report him?”

“Someone from the opposition.”

“No one from the opposition is going to report Julius for copping a couple of free drinks. You don’t get rid of a guy that way. That’s a chickenshit way.”

“Killing him is better?”

Marcus rubbed his temples. “Of course not. It’s horrible, it’s… I’m sick to my stomach. I play ball so I don’t have to deal with the bangers. I do my job and they leave me alone. They respect my game, man. I worked hard so they can respect my game. I can’t believe… Mick, I just want to go home. Please let me go home. I need to sleep.”

“Just do me a favor. Tell me your version of what went down.”

Marcus’s sigh was long and weary. “I was sitting near the dance floor. Just hanging, you know. Talking up this girl.”

“A Ducaine girl?”

“No, she was a local girl. I think she went to BU. Julius was hanging, too-making play with the ladies. I don’t know every girl that was hanging on him. There were lots of them, that much I could tell you. It pissed Pappy off. The girl attention wasn’t the issue. It was the fact that Julius humiliated Ducaine when he came back after being slammed. He and Pappy got into words.”

“Who’s Pappy?”

“Pappy is Patrick Delveccio. Ducaine’s power forward.”

“Was he the one that took Julius down on the court?”

“No, that was Mustafa Duran. He plays off the bench. He’s known as the enforcer-for playing rough. Hey, no big deal. That’s his job. But what happened last game went way beyond.”

“What was he doing when Julius and Pappy got into words?”

“Mustafa wasn’t at the club. He knew what would happen if he showed his face.”

McCain stopped himself from pulling out his notebook. “What would happen?”

“Man, you can’t do something like that on court without consequences.”

“What kind of consequences?”

Marcus frowned. “C’mon, Micky. You know what it’s like. If you don’t defend yourself out there, you get slammed. Guys’ll try all sorts of shit on you ‘cause they think they can get away with it.”

“So what kind of consequences are we talking about?”

“Not a gun, if that’s what you think. I’m talking about on-court payback. You throw out an elbow when the refs aren’t looking. And even if they are looking, after a dirty foul like that… hey, no one’s gonna say anything.”

“But we’re not talking on court, Marcus. We’re talking here. What do you think Julius would have done if Mustafa had showed up?”

“Well, he didn’t show up, so the whole thing’s conjecture.”

“Who started the fight, Marcus?”

“No fight.” The kid looked up. “Just a few words.”

“What kind of words?”

“Julius was talking trash, okay? And Pappy was talking trash back. But there were lots more of us than there was of them. Things got a little heated. I think there was some pushing, but that’s it. Ducaine left. Then Julius took a couple of girls upstairs, and that was the last I saw of him.”

“What he do once he got the girls upstairs?”

Marcus looked puzzled. “Are you asking me if he did them at the club? That, I couldn’t tell you. As far as I know, they were just arm candy, so he could look good to the corporates.”

McCain took out his notebook. “You know the names of the girls?”

Marcus thought a moment. “No, not really.”

McCain waited.

“I think I heard someone call one of the girls Spring. They were tall-the girls. One was about my height. I think they might be ballplayers, but not from Boston Ferris. I know all the girls from Boston Ferris.”

“Who else went upstairs with Julius?”

“No one I knew.”

“A bodyguard, maybe?”

“Nah, no bodyguard. Who’d mess with Julius?”

“He wasn’t worried about fans getting too wild?”

“Julius wasn’t that big yet. He was headed for the NBA, sure, but a Final Four title would have really been a sweet deal for him. He really wanted this title before he declared eligibility.” Marcus shook his head. “This sucks! What a waste!”

“So what happened after he went upstairs?”

“I don’t know what Julius was doing. I do know that Pappy came back with a couple of his banger buddies.”

“About how much time had passed between Pappy’s departure and Pappy’s return?”

Marcus exhaled. “Maybe about a half hour, maybe a little longer. I wasn’t watching the clock. When Pappy came back, everyone knew it was gonna be bad. I was coming out of the john, and when I saw him, I was already thinking about making my exit. Then the shooting started. I hit the floor. I didn’t see no gun. I couldn’t even tell you if Pappy was packing. I just heard the pop and dived for cover.”

“So the words that Pappy and Julius had weren’t over a girl?”

“Nah, it was the game, man. It’s always the game. You cheated, you held me, you pushed me, you threw me an elbow, blah, blah, blah. It wasn’t anything about a girl.”

“Maybe Julius put the move on the wrong lady.”

“No, I don’t see that. He had his pick-anyone, anytime.”

“Some guys get a thrill sticking it into other guys’ girls.”

“Nah, not Julius. His only passion was ball. Girls were just something to do when he wasn’t playing ball. If he was going to square off with some guy seriously, it wouldn’t be over a girl.”

“So where did that rumor come from?”

“How should I know? If I was to guess, I’d blame Ducaine. Something to justify their actions. Everyone said that Pappy and his buds just gunned him down, Micky. Just mowed him down.”

“But you didn’t see it.”

“That didn’t mean it didn’t go down that way.” Marcus looked at McCain. “Who else would have shot him up?”

“So you’re telling me that Van Beest hadn’t pissed off anyone else but Ducaine?”

“No, Julius pissed off lots of people. I didn’t like him. But I can’t think of anyone who would have hated him enough to shoot him.”

“Maybe you’re not thinking hard enough.”

“Maybe I need some sleep!” Marcus snapped back. “Maybe if I had some sleep, I could think better.” He paused, then threw his head back. “I’m so cold. I’m so tired.” He stared at McCain. “How do you guys do all-night stakeouts in this kind of weather?”

“We get cold and tired, too.”

“So have a little sympathy, Micky. Let me go home.”

McCain nodded. “I’ll have a uniform drive you home.”

“Don’t bother. I’ll hitch a ride with a friend.”

“No, son,” McCain told him. “An officer will take you home. Your mother wouldn’t have it any other way.”