Four Walls

'This was at the ball game?' Flack was taking notes now.

'Yeah.' Mulroney looked up at Ursitti. 'Some genius thought it'd help 'foster a commonality' between us and the towelheads if we played a nice friendly game of baseball. National pastime and all that shit.' He snorted. 'I don't even know what 'foster a commonality' means.'

'So what happened?' Flack asked.

Mulroney shrugged again. 'It was the top of the third. The towelheads were up. I was playing second, Hunt was at short.'

'Brett Hunt,' Ursitti added. 'He's in for gay-bashing, too.'

'Good guy,' Mulroney said. 'We made a good keystone.'

'Yeah, I'm sure Derek Jeter and Robinson Canу bonded over beating up gay guys, too,' Flack said sarcastically. 'Get on with it.'

'So Barker gets up and he draws a walk. Next guy was Yarnall.'

'Ryan Yarnall,' Ursitti said. 'He's in for check fraud.'

Mulroney laughed. 'He hits like an accountant, too. He struck out on three pitches. Swings through every damn thing, it was hilarious. Then Yoba gets up.'

'Greg Yoba, in for robbery.'

'Right, and he grounds it to Hunt. I run to second, Hunt flips it to me, and I'm all set to turn around and throw to first, when, wham! The sonofabitch picks up his leg as he's sliding into second. My shin still hurts.'

'That when the fight broke out?' Mac asked.

'Yeah. Bastard shouldn't have done that.'

'So you killed him,' Flack said.

Mulroney shrugged. 'It wasn't right. And the COs broke it up before I could get my own back.'

'In the majors,' Flack said, 'they don't shiv guys who do that.'

Smiling, Mulroney said, 'Well, maybe they should.'

'This isn't a laughing matter,' Mac snapped. 'A man is dead. Before, you were getting out of here in a couple of years. Now, assuming you don't get the death penalty, you'll be spending the rest of your life in those green dickies, and not in as nice a place as this.'

'Maybe,' Mulroney said. 'But he deserved it. At least I showed that sonofabitch what for. It was worth it just for that.'

Flack had a few more perfunctory questions for Mulroney, but the interview was essentially over. The man had confessed. Mac would make sure the evidence supported that confession-and if it didn't, he'd find out what Mulroney was hiding.

But the Barker murder wasn't the real mystery here-Washburne was. To Ursitti, Mac said, 'Lieutenant, I'd like to interview some of your COs.'

'Well,' Flack said, 'we're definitely interviewing one of 'em. See, they're really not supposed to be able to make those toothbrush shivs.'

Mac looked at Ursitti. 'How would one of the inmates get their hands on a razor?'

'When they shave. They try that crap all the time, putting tinfoil in the safety razor so it looks like the blade's in there.'

Frowning, Mac said, 'Don't they use magnets to test that?'

'In max security, yeah. I, uh, managed to finagle getting us one.' Ursitti suddenly was interested in the pattern on the linoleum floor.

Mac regarded the lieutenant. 'You're not supposed to have one of those?'

'Ain't in the budget, and if it ain't in the budget, it ain't in the prison.' Ursitti said those words as if they were a mantra he'd heard over and over again-probably from Russell. 'But-well, let's just say we got us an electric magnet under the table.'

'So who handled shaving this morning for Mulroney's block?'

Flack said, 'According to the duty roster, it was Ciccone.'

'That's the guy guard-dogging Hawkes.'

Ursitti said, 'Well, your guy's getting a new guard dog, 'cause Ciccone's ass'll be in that chair in a minute.'

Sure enough, Ciccone came in a few minutes later, palming sweat off his forehead. No doubt he was grateful to be in the air-conditioned interview room after being outside for so long. Looking for all the world like an eight- year-old who'd been summoned to the principal's office, Ciccone fell more than sat in the chair.

Flack flipped through the pages of a clipboard that Ursitti had handed him. 'According to this, you had shaving duty this morning in A Block.'

'Yeah, that's right.' Ciccone studied the table intently, not looking into Flack's, or anyone else's, eyes.

'You gave them each a safety razor.'

'That's the procedure, yeah. They go inside, they do their business, then they gimme back the razors.'

Mac said, 'Isn't procedure also to check each of those razors when they give them back to make sure that the razors are intact?'

'Yeah, but there's, like, sixty guys in there, and they start pissing and moaning when you stop to check every single one. 'Sides, most of 'em don't bother, so I just check 'em randomly. That's SOP around here.'

Flack put the clipboard down on the table. It only made a mild clack when he did, but Ciccone flinched.

'SOP is also to use a magnet to check the razor,' Mac said. 'According to Lieutenant Ursitti here, you've been issued an electric magnet that you're supposed to place every safety razor on to make sure that the blade's still in there.'

Now Ciccone rolled his eyes, and Mac couldn't help but notice how bloodshot they were. Fresh sweat was beading on his forehead even though it was still nice and cool in the interrogation room.

'Right, SOP, sure. I wasn't 'issued' anything, and there ain't no procedure for that. Yeah, we got the magnet, but it ain't on any list of prison equipment, right, Lieutenant?'

Ursitti had remained calm throughout, but his eyes were blazing now as he said, 'You know damn well we got that on the down-low, Ciccone-that doesn't change the fact that I ordered you to use the thing.'

'Order? How can you order me to use something we ain't supposed to have?'

'I swear to you, Ciccone, there will be a disciplinary hearing, and-'

'Knock yourself out, Lieutenant.' Ciccone was now looking straight at Ursitti. 'But I didn't do anything wrong by not using that magnet.'

Mac said, 'Nevertheless, Officer Ciccone, Jack Mulroney was able to create a weapon used for murder thanks to your negligence. Even if you hadn't used the magnet, you didn't actually check Mulroney's razor.'

'I told you, I was doing a random-'

'It didn't occur to you to check the razor of the man who got into a brawl the previous day?'

Ciccone had nothing to say to that, which didn't surprise Mac, so he continued: 'I don't suppose the fact that you didn't use the magnet had anything to do with your four-alarm hangover?'

At that, Ciccone tensed. So did Ursitti, though it was due to anger rather than nervousness. The CO said, 'I don't know what-'

'You're sweating, your eyes are bloodshot, you're sensitive to noise. The magnet's electric, so it makes a humming noise-that probably would've driven you crazy.' Mac leaned forward, his palms resting on the table, and stared right at Ciccone. 'A man's dead because of your negligence, Officer Ciccone. Maybe we can't nail you for not using the magnet, but I intend to make sure that you pay for your role in this.'

'Fine,' Ciccone said, 'then I ain't saying a goddamn thing without my lawyer.'

'Then we're done here,' Flack said. He looked at Ursitti, who sent Ciccone to wait in the captain's office.

They talked to a few more COs, among them Sullivan. They all more or less repeated the same story, corroborating what the evidence seemed to indicate.

At least as it pertained to the Barker murder. The details of the Washburne murder remained elusive.

'I didn't see a damn thing,' Sullivan said. 'And I don't mind tellin' you, I'm really pissed off about it. Washburne was a good police back in the day, and he was what you call your model prisoner. I mean, mosta