would in other circumstances.
I understand, I said. Of course. But if there’s anything you can tell me. About any physical evidence. That you’re at liberty to reveal.
I’m sorry, said Russell Graham, ADA, with a sorrowful shake of the head that seemed almost genuine. But there’s not much to say. We’re doing the usual forensics. You’ll get them when you’re entitled to them.
If and when.
If and when, he smiled.
I was just wondering, I said. If Jules did it, why would he leave the body right there? In an alley? Right after a loud fight that everybody in his building must have heard? Doesn’t really make sense, does it?
Crimes of passion, said the ADA with a hint of irony. People aren’t always thinking too clearly.
Crimes of passion?
They were in the middle of a fight. Uncontrolled anger. People don’t act rationally. Or maybe he was trying to hide the body, put it in the Dumpster, and somebody came along. Scared him away.
All right. I see you have your theories. All I can say is, he says he didn’t do it. So I’m not sure there’s anything more to talk about. Right now, anyway.
I understand.
Clearly he did. And clearly this wasn’t going anywhere.
I’d been hoping for some kind of response. Something about the kind of plea that might be available if the kid got charged. A crime of passion, after all. He’d said it himself. Not first degree. Plead it down to manslaughter. Depraved indifference. Whatever. I sat for a moment, waiting for Russell Graham, ADA, to say something that might go somewhere.
His smile was obliging.
No words followed.
Damn, I thought. This guy’s no fun.
I had to get something out of him before I left.
Could I ask you one favor? I said.
Ask away.
Well, if you do end up charging Jules, down the road?
Yes?
Let’s not do the perp walk thing, okay? Handcuffs and all that? I can bring him in.
Well, said the ADA evenly, I’ll certainly take that into consideration.
I appreciate that. I’ll be in touch.
You know where to reach me.
I left the building with a spring in my step, bursting with pride at my show of wit and investigative acumen.
FitzGibbon’s kid was in good hands.
21.
I called Jules. He was home. On the way to his loft I stopped to look at the alley where the body had been found.
It was a normal alley. Apartment buildings on either side. A tall metal fence blocking egress at the far end. Razor wire on top. Garbage cans. Wind-blown trash. A Dumpster. The smell of motor oil and rot.
The body had been found propped up against the Dumpster, at the far end of the alley. There was no bloodstain now, if there had ever been. Blunt trauma. Not necessarily a great deal of blood. Anyway, there would be crime scene photos. I’d try to get a look at them later.
There were four doors leading off the alley, three on one side, one on the other. All were of the metal kind. No visible handles. They could only be opened from the inside, it seemed.
I made a note to check out where the doors led.
Fire escapes clung to the side of each building. They were the type with a retracting last flight. Nobody without a ladder could climb them from the outside. The bottom flights were in the retracted position. They looked in working order.
I surveyed the scene.
No way out, for Larry Silver.
I could smell the fear.
I looked more closely at the metal door on the left. It had an abandoned air. Long shoots of weeds grew through the cracks in the asphalt in front of it. Not a door that had been used for months, at least.
I looked at the doors on the other side. Same thing. Emergency exits, probably.
I went back to the Dumpster. Got down on my knees. Peered underneath.
Two green eyes peered back.
I hope you don’t have rabies, I said to them, and tossed a pebble in their direction.
The cat skittered off.
I had an urge to apologize.
I went around the Dumpster.
The cat was sitting contentedly on top of a stack of graying two-by-fours. It was black, with a white spot over one eye. White front feet. Damn cute. It didn’t look like an alley cat. No scars. No scabies. Clearly it belonged to someone. Maybe it was lost. It had a collar. Perhaps its address was on the collar. I felt obliged to find out. Take it back to its home.
Sorry, I said.
It stared at me. I approached it slowly. It sat and stared some more. A street cat would have hissed, spat, run away. This one stayed. Watched me creep up on it. Cocked its head to one side.
When I got within a couple of feet, the cat took one last look at me. Sprinted away.
Damn, I thought. Another metaphor.
I left the alley. Turned right. Three blocks to Jules’s building. The downstairs door was ajar. The elevator wasn’t working. I climbed the stairs. I knocked. I heard voices. One was sharp, female, not pleased. The other was Jules. Some argument going on. I couldn’t hear the words.
I knocked again.
The voices stopped. A minute going by. Metal machine music starting up. From somewhere inside.
The door opened. Jules was wearing baggy jeans slung down low, Union Jack boxers underneath, half exposed. And nothing else. If you didn’t count the tattoos. Japanese, they looked like. And a large leonine thing on his chest. An odd pattern of scars on his belly.
Hey, he said.
Hey, I replied, trying not to stare at the scars. Is this a bad time?
Nah, that’s just Lisa.
As though I should know who Lisa was.
She’s pissed I didn’t tell her you were coming. She’ll get over it.
Okay, if you’re sure, I said.
Sure I’m sure.
He didn’t ask me in, exactly. He just turned and walked to the couch. Threw himself on it. As much invitation as I was going to get, it seemed.
I took a seat in the beanbag chair opposite Jules. The music grinding and shrieking from somewhere upstairs. I looked at the bookshelf next to the sofa. Tattered paperbacks. Shogun. The Man With No Name. DVDs. Kill Bill, both volumes. Reservoir Dogs. A set of nunchuks. Nunchaku, I recalled, in the Japanese. Kelly had taught me that. She was way into anime.
Fuck you, too! I heard a voice, pitched high over the drone and crunch of the music. Fuck you too fuck you too fuck you too…!
I looked up. The owner of the voice was on the balcony. She was tiny. Hennaed hair, one side shaved higher
