Teddy shrugs. Says, 'That's a real bish, man.'
Jack asks, 'What did you say?'
'That's a real bish.'
'Bish?' Bentley asks. 'You mean bitch? You got a speech impediment there, Teddy?'
'Yeah,' Teddy says. 'Maybe I do, you fat son of a bish.'
Jack asks, 'Where were you last night?'
'What time?'
'About 3 a.m.'
'Fucking your mother.'
'You were at the Atlas Warehouse.'
Jack watches Teddy thinking. Mulling over that if they have him at the scene, it's either a snitch or a witness. If it's a snitch, he's one of the crew. If it's a witness…
'Your mom's a drag in the sack, man,' Teddy says. 'Gives lousy head. But I guess you'd know that.'
'You were at the warehouse.'
'Your sister, on the other hand…'
'You left a gas can behind,' Jack says. 'Got your prints on it.'
He'd told this lie once to a young amateur who had blurted out, 'Bullshit, I was wearing gloves!'
Teddy doesn't go for it, though.
'Wasn't me,' he says.
'Don't be a dumb shit,' Jack says. 'We got you. Why take a hit for Kazzy Azmekian? He wouldn't take one for you. Give us Azmekian, we'll get you some credit with the DA.'
Bentley chimes in, 'Theodore, you have priors. Unless you do something to help yourself, you could be looking at double-digit time here. You could be dating Rosie for ten, twelve years.'
'Or you could write us a statement,' Jack says. 'Like, now.'
Teddy lifts his middle finger, sticks it in his mouth and sucks it, then points it at Jack.
Out in the hallway, Jack says to Bentley, 'We gotta get a statement. We can't let Guzman testify.'
'Man knew what he was getting into,' Bentley says.
'Teddy'll have him banged out.'
'I'm not losing an arson-murder,' Bentley says.
Jack shakes his head. 'Either we get Teddy's statement or we just say fuck it.'
Bentley looks at the floor for a long time. Finally says, 'You do what you think you have to do.'
The selective use of the second person doesn't elude Jack.
He asks, 'We're together on this?'
They look at each other while Bentley thinks it over. Then he says, 'Yeah.'
They go into the room. Bentley leans against the wall in the corner as Jack sits down across the table from Teddy. Jack turns on the tape recorder, says, 'You don't know how to write, you can give it to us on tape.'
Teddy leans over the desk, gets into Jack's face.
'You don't got no fuckin' gas can, you don't got no fuckin' prints,' he says. 'What you got is a fuckin' witness, and by the time this thing gets to trial… well, don't you just hate it when bad things happen to good people? Ain't it a real bish?'
Jack turns off the tape recorder. Takes off his jacket and lays it on the back of the chair.
Jack's a big guy. Six-four and muscled. He comes around behind Teddy, says, 'Teddy Coooool.' Then cups his palms and slams them against Teddy's ears.
Teddy screams and slumps down in the chair, holding his hands over his ears and shaking his head. Jack picks him up and tosses him against the wall. Catches him on the rebound and bounces him off the other wall. Does this three or four times before he lets Teddy fall to the floor.
'You set the fire, Teddy.'
'No.'
Jack picks Teddy halfway up, then drives his knee into Teddy's chest. The air comes out of Teddy's lungs with a grunt that makes Jack sick. But it's like, Do the job and do it right, so he knees Teddy two more times then shoves him down so that his head bounces off the concrete floor.
He backs off and Teddy goes fetal.
'Don't you just hate it,' Jack says, 'when bad things happen to good people?'
'You're crazy, man,' Teddy moans.
'That would be a good thing for you to keep in mind, Teddy,' Jack says. 'Now, are you going to give it up or do we start again?'
'I want a lawyer.'
Jack knows he has to move him, and quick. Teddy gets a lawyer, he'll find out there's a murder rap hanging out, and then it's over.
'Did you say something?' Jack asks. 'Because you're really tripping, man. Bouncing off the walls. PCP, Teddy? Or did you get hold of some skanky meth?'
Jack stomps on him, four times, hard.
Teddy balls up.
'C'mon,' Jack says. 'It's an arson. You'll get eight, serve what, three? You can do three.'
Teddy's lying on the floor sucking for breath.
Bentley's turned away, his face into the corner.
'Or do you want to start again, Teddy?' Jack asks. 'Because this time I'm really going to hurt you. I go about two twenty, so if I jump and land on your back…'
'Maybe I did the fire.'
'Maybe?'
'I did the fire,' Teddy says. 'But Azmekian hired me to do it and I'll say that in court.'
Jack feels the weight of the world go off his shoulders. He's been carrying Guzman's life and he didn't want to drop it.
About ten seconds later Teddy's in the chair, writing like mad. Gives it up totally. When he's done, Bentley says to him, 'Asshole, a guy died in the fire. You just wrote yourself a murder beef.'
Which just cracks Bentley up.
Jack's down the hall, he can hear Bentley laughing and Teddy screaming, You motherfuckers! You lying asshole motherfuckers!
Gets over that, though, and really starts laying it on Azmekian, giving up other fires, all kinds of shit. Teddy's digging like a fucking gopher, man, trying to tunnel away from that body in the warehouse.
Jack, he's in the can puking.
He never lit a guy up before.
End of the workday, he goes and finds his dad and they surf until it's black out. Tells Letty he doesn't want company that night.
27
The story on Jack Wade, Part Three.
Jack's on the stand in Azmekian's criminal trial.
Jack listens to the DA's question, turns to the jury and says, 'The modus operandi of the fire matched that of several known arsonists, including Mr. Kuhl. We brought Mr. Kuhl in for questioning, confronted him with the evidence against him, and he wrote a statement confessing to setting the fire and implicating Mr. Azmekian.'
'What sort of evidence?'
Jack nods. 'Mr. Kuhl left behind one of the gasoline cans at the scene, and we found fingerprints that matched Mr. Kuhl's.'
Jury's eating him up.
'Was Mr. Kuhl under any duress to sign the statement?'
