Speak for the Dead (30 page)
Read Speak for the Dead Online
Authors: Rex Burns
“Here we are, Gabe.”
It was an office with thin, movable walls and unpainted concrete beams and pillars. Wager had heard the design described as “functional modular,” but that was just another name for cheap. He hoped the new justice center which they were to move into someday would not be as ugly. The dark-eyed girl in jeans who sat poking two fingers at an electric typewriter seemed surprised to see Wager and Axton, their ties and sports coats, the slacks and shiny shoes. “You need some help?”
Axton showed his badge. “We’re trying to get some information about Frank Covino, miss. I understand he had a job here?”
“Oh, wasn’t that terrible—he really was a nice guy.”
“Did you know him?” Wager quickly asked.
“He was in and out of the office. I bet you want to talk to Mr. Dumovich.”
“Who’s Mr. Dumovich?”
She looked as if Wager ought to know. “He’s the director. Just a minute.”
It was half a minute. Her head came back through the doorway cut into the thin wall. “Come on in.”
Mr. Dumovich was in his late thirties and trying to look younger, pale hair sprayed to lie straight to his collar. He didn’t wear jeans; instead he had on washed khakis that reminded Wager of his own Marine Corps summer uniform. But Mr. Dumovich did wear the same kind of Vibram-soled hiking boots that all the students clumped around in, and as the man walked back to his desk, he rocked slightly fore and aft in the thick, unbending leather.
“Yes, Frank Covino was one of our students. But the only information we have would deal with his family’s financial status and his academic standing. We don’t look into a client’s personal life.”
“Can we see his file?” asked Wager.
Mr. Dumovich frowned. “I don’t know about that. There have been so many changes in the access rules, and the dean hasn’t sent down a memo yet …”
“The man’s dead,” Wager said. “He’s not going to complain about an invasion of privacy.” If need be, they could get a duces tecum subpoena for the records. But that would take time and mean another trip.
“His relatives might! It’s surprising how many people these days are after personal information of the most innocuous type. And I certainly don’t want the college or this office to be embarrassed in any manner possible.”
“Mr. Dumovich.” Axton leaned toward the man like a falling, smiling tree. “Nobody wants to embarrass anybody. We’re just asking for a little help in catching the boy’s murderer. It would embarrass me if I didn’t want to help catch a murderer.”
“Well, of course I
want
to help! But the records access rules …” He fidgeted and looked from Axton’s gentle smile to Wager’s not so gentle one and finally said, “Oh, very well. But it must be entirely confidential, understand?”
Dumovich called to the girl laboring at the typewriter in the outer office and she brought the folder. Beneath a pile of pay receipts for the last year and a half, it held a computer printout labeled “BEOG-FFS” and a mimeographed form with the title “Application for Financial Aid.” Max took one, Wager the other, and they began reading the several pages of each. Buried among the sections requesting information about the student’s status, about his spouse if any, his parents if living, his residential history, his job history, current instate status, evidence of taxes paid, was a section for Income and Expenses. Covino had listed his basic family income as $500 per month for three people; source, United Mine Workers survivors pension, social security, Black Lung Pension Supplement. He also listed as his own income his liquor store job at $2.35 an hour, and his sister’s $1.75 an hour as a waitress. At the time of the initial application, almost a year and a half ago, he carried the minimum twelve credits of academic work and had a B average. Under the heading for Assets and Liabilities, he listed only a 1972 Chevrolet, value $1100.
“This is it?” asked Wager. It wasn’t a hell of a lot for Dumovich to get embarrassed about.
“That and the grade transcripts. Each term we check to see if the client is maintaining a satisfactory academic standing in units taken and in grade-point average. If he or she is not, we bring him or her in for counseling—often he or she is carrying too many hours or working too much. And of course, if he or she fails, we terminate the funding. It’s all strictly governed by federal rules and regulations and is part of the contract.”
With him or her. Wager glanced at Axton, who nodded and bent to shake hands with Mr. Dumovich. Outside, leaning against the stinging grit of a sudden gust of raw wind, Max wagged his head. “It looks like everybody’s telling the truth. Hard-working, honest, ambitious—not your usual target for a professional hit man.”
That was true. And it meant they had exactly the same number of motives they began with—zero.
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
copyright © 1978 by Rex Raoul Stephen Sehler Burns
cover design by Michel Vrana
978-1-4532-4790-7
This edition published in 2012 by Open Road Integrated Media
180 Varick Street
New York, NY 10014
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AND OPEN ROAD MEDIA
