Sendoff for a Snitch (22 page)

Cunningham answered for me. “Some kitchenware and a few cans of food.”

Montgomery smiled. “Some looting, Jesse. You couldn’t find anything better than that?”

I shook my head. “It’s stuff from my apartment. I was trying to see what I could still use.”

“And that’s when you found the cat collar.”

“Yes, sir. The tabernacle people, they were using it for their cat. Supposedly she was their goddess or something.”

“And what happened to the cat?”

“I took her over to Kelly’s place. And her kittens.”

“Does Kelly still have them?”

“Yeah. The kids really like them.”

He opened the bag and dropped the collar into it. “So what are you doing now?” he asked.

I tried to come up with a reasonable answer. “I worked a partial shift at Quality Steel. They’re hoping to open up Monday.”

“Have you been doing anything else for money?”

I didn’t answer directly. “They said I can collect unemployment for while they’re closed. Not as good as working, but maybe enough to tide me over. But I don’t think I have enough quarters in the last year to get it. ”

“And will you able to move back into your apartment?”

“I doubt it. I’ll have to see what I can find.”

Montgomery tied the bag in a loose knot. “Red Cross’ll help find someplace. If you need a place to stay.”

I hoped it wouldn’t come to that. “Yes, sir. I’ll look into that.”

“When were you over at your girlfriend’s last?”

I tried to think. “Maybe two days ago.”

Belkins stepped up. He was still clutching Carissa’s hand. “What are you jawing about? There’s a BOLO out for him. We got some serious questions to ask him. Ain’t you gonna have him taken in?”

Montgomery nodded. “I think that would be best.”

My heart sank.

“Well, ask if the uniforms can take him in. Or call for transport. We don’t have a cage in our car.”

“Officer Cunningham, can you transport the prisoner to headquarters?” Montgomery asked.

“Yes, sir, if you’d like.”

“Thank you.”

Carissa had pulled her hand free from Belkins and was busy with her camera again. I wondered if the
Rothsburg Register
printing facility was functional. And if I’d show up on the front page of the newspaper again.

“Shall I tell them looting charges?” Cunningham asked.

Montgomery shook his head. “We’ll be right behind you. I’ll take care of it when we get there.”

Belkins chomped on his unlit cigar.

“He’ll be charged with the murder of Aaron Stenski.”

Chapter 18

N
obody said anything about Miranda rights, even though Carissa was right there and she was a newspaper reporter. On the other hand, nobody was going to ask me any important questions in front of her.

It didn’t come as a huge surprise that they’d issued a BOLO for me for questioning about Aaron’s death. Even though I’d been acting as if it would never happen, I’d been trying to dodge cops whenever I could, aware that it was only a matter of time before I was picked up. At my next parole hearing, if they hadn’t found me before that. After all, he’d been found floating in my stairwell. I’d never made a secret of the fact that I knew he was a snitch and thought he was trying to set me up.

Cunningham took me by the elbow and escorted me to the car. He opened the door and moved aside so I could slide into the back seat. He held his hand up to shield my head from striking the door frame. Then he leaned in to secure the seat belt. He might be annoyed with me, but he was a professional.

It was a fairly new car, with molded plastic seats that had a cutout in the back of the seat so my cuffed hands weren’t caught between me and the seat. A lot more comfortable than the old kind, especially if I ended up spending much time waiting.

But it was only a little while before Richards slipped into the driver’s seat. Cunningham climbed in a few minutes later and put on his seat belt.

“You okay back there?” she asked.

They didn’t usually care. “Yeah,” I said.

The car crept out of the alley.

“What the hell’s going on between that newspaper broad and that detective?” Richards asked.

I didn’t know if she was talking to me, so I said, “You talking to me?”

“If you got any answers and you want to tell us.”

“Well, she’s a reporter with the
Rothsburg Register
. She thinks she’s got a great career ahead of her, so she’s trying to get some feature stories. She’s done one on the Predators bike club, and she’d like to do one on me.”

“And she thinks that detective’s gonna feed her info?”

“She don’t think it, she knows it.”

“What does she do? Sleep with him?”

“I imagine she does. Hell, she wanted me to take her to the Predators’ clubhouse, and when I told her no, she offered to put out for me.”

Cunningham laughed. “And did you take her up on it?”

I grinned. “No. I may not look like much, but I got my standards.”

Richards chortled.

It was only a short distance to the police station. They pulled the car into the enclosed area marked “Prisoner Reception” and stopped the car.

Of course, I had to wait for Richards to open the door and lean in to undo the seat belt. She stepped aside to let me slide out, grabbing my arm as I stood up.

Montgomery was already waiting by the intake counter as we entered. Belkins was nowhere in sight. Nor, thankfully, was Carissa.

“Take him up to an interrogation room when you’re done with him,” Montgomery said. “I have a few things I have to check on. This communication slowdown is a real hassle.”

I was frisked again and surrendered my jacket, steel-toed boots, and belt. I hoped someone had brought in my wallet and keychain and they’d all end up in the same property bag.

Then the handcuffs were snapped back on, this time in front with a waist chain, and I was escorted up a flight of steel stairs to an interrogation room. I was glad no one had decided I presented enough of a risk to require leg irons; climbing stairs with my ankles shackled was a skill I hadn’t managed to acquire in twenty years of assorted tries.

I was deposited in a battered chair in front of an equally battered table. The room had battleship-gray walls with a large “window” on one side, which I knew very well was a one-way mirror. I would be under constant surveillance. There was undoubtedly a camera I didn’t see recording every minute.

I didn’t have long to wait before the door opened and Montgomery came in. He rested his butt on the edge of the table. My stomach knotted up. Montgomery was a good interrogator, and I knew I was well out of my league trying to keep up with him. He’d be careful, since he didn’t want to bring a case that fell apart in a courtroom, especially if it was one that had attracted a lot of publicity.

And a second set of murder charges for a paroled murderer was likely to be big news, even though there was no longer a death penalty in Maryland.

I could only hope it wouldn’t go that far, but I didn’t have a lot of control over that.

The door opened again, and I could smell the stale whiskey and cigar before I caught sight of Belkins.

My throat closed up, and I had to force myself to breathe. Belkins wasn’t too fussy about his interrogation methods. He thought once a murderer, always a murderer. He had no sympathy. There was no point in me trying to tell them I hadn’t really killed anyone. My record said different.

He stationed himself behind me. The back of my head itched, waiting for an impatient smack if he didn’t like my answers.

And no way would he like my answers.

“So.” Montgomery looked at his manicured nails. “What can you tell us about Aaron Stenski?”

“That he’s dead?” I said.

He nodded. “How did you know that?”

“Well, Belkins—Detective Belkins, he said you were bringing me in to charge me with murder. Of Aaron Stenski. So he must be dead.”

Montgomery arched his well-groomed eyebrows. “Yes, he did say that, didn’t he?” He glared over my head at Belkins. “Had you known before you heard him say that?”

How much should I let on I knew? It was always a problem. Tell him too much, and it led to other problems. But try to hide some of the truth, and he’d get me all twisted up in what I said and then turn it against me. I was sure this was being recorded.

If I refused to answer, he would tell Mr. Ramirez, my parole officer, that I wasn’t being cooperative. That might end up in a parole violation hearing, and I could be returned to prison for my backup time. Almost another twenty years. That thought made my brain freeze.

“Not really,” I mumbled.

Montgomery spread his hand in front of him and looked at his heavy ring with its green stone. “What do you mean, not really?”

I shrugged. “I hadn’t seen him for a while. But I knew he was missing.”

“How’d you know that?”

How indeed? Did Montgomery know about the little scene with Benji? Probably, if he’d been investigating Aaron’s death. And if he didn’t, he’d find out about it soon enough.

I took a deep breath. “He was supposed to be minding his kid brother, Benji. But he left the kid in his truck, down by the park. For hours. Even for Aaron, that was pretty irresponsible. If he could get back to the kid, he would have. So something must have happened to him.”

I was babbling. I clenched my teeth to keep my mouth shut.

“And you know this how?”

I took a deep breath. “Benji got scared and came by my place. I found him sitting on the stairs when I came home from work.”

The same stairs where they found Aaron’s body floating. But I didn’t volunteer that.

Montgomery picked an invisible bit of lint from his dark gray trousers. “Why would Benji go to your place?”

“I dunno.”

He stood up. Montgomery towered over me. “Guess.”

I shrugged. “It’s all the way across town from where he lives, but he knows where I live. Or at least, where I used to live.”

“Why do you say ‘used to live?’”

“Have you seen the building?” I said.

Of course he had. He’d said as much.

“It got flooded out pretty bad. I can’t live there now. Not unless they get it fixed up. And that’ll take a while.”

Montgomery took a step back. “And do you think Benji knew where you lived because he’d been there before?”

“Maybe. Not inside, but maybe outside.”

“And why would he have been to your place?”

“I dunno. Aaron came by a few times. He might have had Benji in the truck.” I was grasping at straws.

“And why did Aaron come by? To see you?”

There was no good answer to that. I just shook my head.

Belkins spoke from behind me. “To buy drugs?”

I tensed more, if that was possible. “No.”

“You use, don’t you?”

“No.”

“But you deal.”

“No.”

Belkins coughed. “Judges always come down harder on dealers who don’t use. They’re in it to make money, not to support their own habit.” He leaned in close. “Again. What do you use?”

I tried to move away from his whiskey and cigar breath, but I couldn’t. “I don’t deal. And I don’t use. You can test me.”

“You probably aren’t just smoking an occasional joint. Stuff you use, it’s probably out of your system by now. And the storm’s interrupted distribution. So you might test clean.”

“I ain’t had a haircut since I hit the street. You can do that hair test thing.” If they really decided to do that, they’d probably have my parole officer order it, and I’d have to pay for it. Still, it would be worth it if it convinced them I wasn’t using.

Belkins straightened up. He kept his eyes on a piece of paper in his hand. “Bath salts, maybe? K2? Something like that, not illegal, but for sure not innocent. That doesn’t show on standard tests.”

This was going nowhere. I gave up trying to respond to his comments.

Montgomery just sat back and watched.

The silence grew. I was familiar with that technique. Most people can’t stand too long a silence and feel compelled to say something. I had all the time in the world, and they had lives. I knew I could outwait them.

Belkins was the one who got restless. “So tell me about this kid, Aaron’s brother.”

“Benji?”

“If that’s his name.”

I could play the game on this level. “It is.”

“So tell me about him.”

“What about him?”

Belkins grimaced impatiently. “Why did he come over to your place?”

“I told you. Aaron told him to wait in the truck. But he never came back.”

“Over by your place?”

“Close enough.” I moved my hands a bit, trying to keep the blood circulation going in them.

“Close enough for what?”

“Close enough for Benji to walk over to my place.”

Belkins leaned in close again. “This was when?”

“Friday morning.”

“Why did he come to your place?”

“I dunno. He needed help. He said Aaron had pointed out where I lived to him.”

“Doesn’t that strike you as a strange thing for Aaron to have done?”

“Yeah. But Aaron does lots of strange things.” I was careful to use the present tense. Even if I knew he was dead, I wanted it to seem like I hadn’t fully absorbed that fact.

Belkins’s hot breath was on my face. “Especially if he’s buying drugs from you, and this is his kid brother.”

I decided not to go into the meth Aaron had given Benji, so I just didn’t respond.

“Damn it. Tell me something.” Belkins slammed his hand down on the table in front of me. It was unexpected, and I jumped. Next time, was the blow going to land on my head?

Montgomery probably was concerned about the same thing. He got up and stepped between us. “Where did you see Benji?” he asked.

I’d already told them that. They wanted to see if I would be consistent. I said, “On the steps down to my apartment.”

“He was hanging out in that stairwell?”

“Yeah. He was sitting on the steps when I got home from work.”

“The same stairwell where Aaron was found floating?”

“Yeah.” Damn, he’d gotten me. I hadn’t planned to let on that I’d known that Aaron was dead, much less where his body was found.

Montgomery leaned in. His breath smelled of minty mouthwash. “And how did you know where Aaron’s body was found?”

I shrugged. “I came by to see if I could get some of my stuff out of there before it all got soaked. There was an ambulance and a couple of squad cars there.”

“So what did you do?”

“I watched.”

“They didn’t notice you?”

“I kind of hid in a store entrance.”

“What store?”

“I dunno. Most of them are closed. I could probably pick it out if it’s important.”

“So what did you do then?” he asked again.

I closed my eyes. “I just left.”

“Did you know it was Aaron?”

“Not for sure, but I thought it might be.”

“Why was that?”

“Well, he’d kind of disappeared. And the body was wearing a bright orange vest. Just like the one Benji had. He told me they hadn’t been home in a few days, and when he said he was getting cold, Aaron bought them these matching vests.”

“You had reason to resent Aaron Stenski, didn’t you?”

“Well, he sure wasn’t my best friend. But I didn’t kill him.”

“Why was he not your ‘best friend?’”

Angrily, Belkins shoved the table a few inches.

“Why are you bothering with this nonsense? We all know Damon’s a murderer. We all know Aaron was a druggie who had his fingers in any dirty deal he could manage. Including Damon’s CDS distribution schemes. Why wouldn’t Damon kill him?”

Montgomery raised his eyebrows. “We don’t know Jesse was involved in any CDS distribution schemes. There’s no evidence.”

“Who the hell needs evidence? He’s a paroled convict. He’ll do anything he thinks he can get away with.”

“Even if we were sure that was true, we can’t take that to the district attorney.”

“Maybe not. But all we got to do is dig a little deeper, and we’ll find the evidence. Or…” A mean smile crept over Belkin’s face. “Get a confession out of him and make him sign it.”

Montgomery got to his feet and took Belkins by the elbow. “Come on out in the hallway and talk to me for a minute.”

He turned to me. “I’ll be back in a little bit, Jesse. Just wait here.”

What else did he think I was going to do?

They left, and the door closed behind them.

Well aware that the wait could stretch into hours, I leaned back in the chair, trying to make myself as comfortable as possible. My hands were still cuffed to the chain. What was it about having such limited use of my hands that made my nose itch? It never did any other time. I closed my eyes and made a conscious effort to relax my muscles.

I must have actually dozed off.

The door opened, and I awoke with a start. A uniformed officer had entered the room.

“Come on,” he said to me.

Stiff, I struggled to my feet. “Where’re you taking me?”

He shrugged. “Just following orders. Bring you back downstairs.”

I expected him to deposit me in a holding cell, but he led me to a bench that extended along a wall with eyebolts set at regular intervals in the wall. Several other men were waiting on the bench, each with his hands raised above his head and chained to an eyebolt. He unlocked the waist chain and indicated an empty space on the bench. “Sit.” I did so. Threading the chain through an eyebolt, he locked it again, leaving me with the others.