“Long gone. Wrapped it up, posted a man, and split. Just routine once the news crews left.”
“Yeah, fine,” Steve said. “But what do they know?”
Taylor shrugged. “Just what I told you. No more, no less. They put it down as a thrill-kill of a homeless man. They’ve identified him as Jack Walsh, but as far as I know, the name means nothin’ to ‘em. Jack Walsh, John Doe, all the same to them.”
Steve jerked his thumb. “What about the cop down there? You make a pass at him yet?”
Taylor shook his head. “Thought I’d wait for you. See how you wanted to play it.”
Steve frowned. “We go ask him questions, he’ll wanna know who we are. When he finds out, he won’t talk.”
“We don’t have to tell him.”
“Yeah, but I hate that, and it’s not going to get us anywhere.”
Steve turned, peered at the cop down the station. Turned back, thought a moment. “The cop looks young and impressionable. Tracy, why don’t you go down there, get him interested in your bod, see what he has to say?”
Tracy gave him a look. “I consider that an obnoxious, sexist remark.”
Steve shrugged. “You’re right. You don’t have to do it.”
Tracy grinned. “What, are you nuts? Be right back.”
She turned and walked down the platform. While Steve and Mark surreptitiously watched, Tracy walked up to the young cop and started talking to him. From what they could see, she was doing just fine.
She was back in five minutes.
“So,” Steve said.
“Snowed him completely,” Tracy said. “He wanted my phone number.”
“I’m sure he did. What about the murder?”
“Strangely enough, he wasn’t that interested in the murder. I had to convince him I
“And?”
“He still didn’t know that much. Just like Mark said-thrill-kill. Splash the guy with gas and set him on fire.”
“Yeah, but who?”
“Teenagers.”
“Teenagers. Black or white?”
“Apparently white.”
“Oh yeah?” Steve said. “And how does he know that?”
“There must be a witness of some kind. The guy didn’t know, but that’s the only way it figures. Because of what he said.”
Steve looked at her. “You’re doing this to pay me back for the sexist remark, aren’t you? I mean, there’s a punch line to this, right?”
“Yeah, and you’re not going to like it.”
“Oh shit.”
“What?” Taylor said. “What are you talking about?”
“That’s it, isn’t it?” Steve said. “That’s why he thinks it’s teenagers and how he knows they’re white. Right?”
“You got it,” Tracy said. “The story from the witness is real garbled. The cop didn’t know who the witness was, or what he said. Only one thing stood out.”
“For Christ’s sake,” Taylor said. “Will you tell me what it was?”
“Only one thing makes any sense, Mark,” Steve said.
Tracy nodded. “That’s right. All the guy knew was, it was something about green hair.”
19
Jeremy Dawson slumped down on his tailbone in his desk chair, stretched his feet out, lolled his head back, and paid no attention whatsoever to the algebra teacher who was droning away at the blackboard. Who needed algebra anyway? Christ, he was gonna be rich.
Jeremy chuckled softly to himself. He closed his eyes, conjured up a vision of scantily dressed young ladies adorning his luxury yacht, pouring him champagne and sticking copious quantities of cocaine up his nose. Beth Killmore was there too, reserved and disapproving at first, but slowly taken in by the affluence of the setting, the magnetism of the young millionaire. She was his now, to do with as he pleased. Ready and willing to serve his every whim.
If he’d let her. If he wanted. If he deigned to let her stay.
Jeremy chuckled again, gloried in his indifference. There she was, throwing herself at him, and he really couldn’t care less. After all, the ball game was on the color TV the girls had set up on the deck of his yacht, the Mets were up and she could damn well wait.
Which she didn’t want to do. What a pain in the ass. Teasing, wheedling, calling out his name.
“Jeremy. Jeremy!”
The voice was not Beth Killmore’s. The yacht vanished. Reality set back in. Jeremy blinked, opened his eyes.
Miss Swain, the algebra teacher, was standing looking down at him. Oh shit, he was in for it now. The principal’s office again? He was in no mood for that today, and-
Jeremy saw the two men standing next to her. The two men in suits and ties. Clean cut, grim, purposeful. Holy shit. Narcs? Was it possible? Were they busting him?
The taller of them stepped forward. “Jeremy Dawson?”
“Yeah.”
The policeman flipped open his wallet, showed his badge. “Come with us, please.”
“What? What are you talking about?”
“Just come with us, please.”
Jeremy drew back in his seat. “Hey, man. No way.”
The cop shook his head. “Listen, it’ll be easier if you cooperate.”
“Says you,” Jeremy said. “I ain’t done nothin’, and I ain’t goin’ nowhere.”
The tall cop sighed. “All right, if that’s the way you want it.”
He reached in his pocket and pulled out a pair of handcuffs. “Jeremy Dawson, you’re under arrest. You have the right to remain silent. If you give up the right to remain silent …”
20
Mark Taylor took a sip from his paper cup of coffee, leaned forward, set it on Steve Winslow’s desk, and flipped open his notebook. He frowned and shook his head. “Bad news all around.”
“How so?” Steve said.
“The bottom line is the cops picked up Jeremy Dawson half an hour ago.”
“Shit.”
“Yeah. They showed up at his school, snagged him right out of class.”
“How’d you get that so fast?”
“My man saw it happen.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. I sent two men out to the school, trying to get a line on Jack Walsh’s movements yesterday. My man was in the right place and actually saw it go down.”
“What happened?”
