Authors: Faye Kellerman
“Four years ago?”
“Yes. For him, for Krieg, for Denny, for all of them. How do you think I got the assholes to leave me alone?”
“And you charged them money to do…what?”
“Homework, essays, science projects, you name it.” Joachim looked at her. “And yes, I charged them money.”
Cindy asked, “How much?”
Joachim said, “Depends. Everything was negotiated.”
“Is that why you were talking to Sean Amos in the parking lot of the school about a month ago? An envelope was given to you by Sean Amos. Were you negotiating a price for something?”
“A month ago?” Joachim sighed. “I haven’t the faintest idea what I was doing a month ago.”
“It was on a Tuesday. You talked to Sean…rather, Sean talked to you. Then you left, put notices in the local bookstore about the Scrabble tournament—”
“God, you people are thorough.” He paused. “Who exactly do you work for?”
“Just answer the question, Joachim!” Cindy barked. “Why were you talking to Sean Amos?”
Joachim said, “A month ago…honestly, I don’t remember. I could look up the date in my daily planner—”
“Go ahead. Do that!”
Joachim took a leather pouch from his desk drawer. From it he removed a small electronic device. Turned it on and began pushing keys. “A month ago, Tuesday…”
He paused.
“Here we go. Yeah, we had an English assignment. A three-page paper on comparing and contrasting the English
versus the American Transcendentalists. Could be I was talking to Sean…about it…offering to help him out—”
“Cut the crap.”
Joachim stiffened. “Look, Cynthia Cohen, or whatever your name
really
is, all I do is write a damn paper. And then I show it to him. If
he
chooses to put
his
name on it, is that my problem?”
“It’s called plagiarism—”
“Is it any different from looking up the information in an encyclopedia?”
Cindy said, “And when you talk to Yale’s Office of Admissions, you can tell them just that—”
“What do you
want
from me!” Joachim cried out. “Please. I swear I’ll never do it again. Please, please, please. My whole life depends on this. Just give me another chance—”
“What else do you do for Amos?”
Joachim’s eyes darted in their sockets. “What do you mean?”
Cindy picked up her bag. “He ever hire you to help him out in other ways?”
“What other ways? What else would I do for him? I
hate
the son of a bitch! I hate them all. Fucker bastards. Fucking users.” He laughed bitterly. “Literally, as well as figuratively.”
Cindy’s brain started racing.
Computer users? No, jerk, the other kind. Users as in drugs. David Garrison’s OD
. “They indulge, do they?”
“Boy, do they—”
“You ever buy Sean’s drugs for him?”
Joachim’s eyes got big. “If he told you that, he’s lying! Guy’s a fucking liar!”
“Just answer the question—”
“No!” Joachim said. “No, no, no. I’ve never bought drugs for Sean or anyone. I don’t do drugs. I have nothing to do with drugs or Sean or any of them. Especially
Mal
. I tutored him a couple of times. That guy is psycho! I avoid him like the plague.”
The mind sped into overdrive. She improvised. “You’re referring to Mal Miller?”
“Who’s Mal Miller?”
Cindy looked at him pointedly. “Which Mal are
you
talking about?”
“Malcolm Carey.”
“Ah, yes…” Cindy nodded, knowingly. “Who does he sell to besides Sean and Krieg and the others?”
“Anyone who asks. But I don’t really know. I told you, I don’t go near him. Please. You’ve got to believe me.”
Kid was pale, sweaty. Cindy’s heart went out to him. She backed off. “You’re willing to swear to that in a court of law?”
“Yes, of course!” The teen’s face was a study in confusion. “Can you please,
please
tell me what’s going on?”
“In a minute.” Cindy steadied herself. Now or never. She took a calculated risk. “Let me see your planner.”
Joachim’s eyes went to his pocket computer. He handed it to her, but she didn’t take it.
“Turn it on,” she said.
The teenager did as told.
She said, “If I scanned through that planner, I wouldn’t find any appointments between Malcolm Carey and you, would I?”
“Not a one. I swear—”
“So if I looked up some…random dates…I’d find nothing incriminating?”
Joachim looked ill. “Nothing I could go to jail for.”
“But I might find something like…
essay for Sean is due
?”
The kid wiped perspiration off his brow, nodded.
She said, “You don’t have to let me look at it, Joachim. Legally, I can’t force you without a warrant—”
“It’s okay.” Again, he offered her the planner. His hands were shaking. “Just…I don’t know. It’s okay.”
“I’m going to pick out some random dates,” she said. “You look them up for me, show them to me. Got it?”
The teen nodded.
“Then show me your schedule for…a week ago Tuesday.”
Quickly, he brought the date onto the small screen. “Here. Take a look.”
She did. A couple of school tests, a doctor’s appointment, nothing for the evening. And nothing of significance.
“How about two weeks ago Saturday?”
Joachim punched keys, offered her the monitor.
Nothing.
Heart drumming in her chest, Cindy gave him the date of the Estelle’s executions. Without a pause, Joachim brought up the date on his planner and showed it to her. She looked at the demarcated hours, scanning the time until she hit eight
P.M
.
At the time Estelle’s was being riddled with bullets from a madman, Joachim was at a Scrabble tournament at the local YMCA. Cindy pointed to the appointment. “Did you actually attend this event?”
Joachim looked at the tip of her finger. He thought a moment. “Uh…I’ve got to think. The YMCA match? Yeah…yeah, I was there, too. Why?”
“Let me ask the questions.”
“Sure. Whatever you want.”
“Your presence at this tournament…it can be verified by witnesses?”
“Of course. Why?”
Cindy waved her hand. “That’s all for now.”
Joachim stood frozen. “What do you mean,
that’s all
? What are you going to do?”
Cindy said, “Nothing for the time being.”
Joachim paused. “
Nothing
?”
“
If
you promise never to write another essay for anyone else but yourself…I suppose I could let the matter drop.”
“I swear, I’ll never do it again. Let the bastards drown for all I care.”
“Okay. I won’t report you. But you’re not entirely off the hook. I’ve got a couple more questions.”
Joachim slumped, looked visibly relieved. “Sure. What?”
“I want to talk about Malcolm Carey. Where does he operate from? Where does he peddle his merchandise?”
Questioning eyes went to Cindy’s face. Joachim said, “Are you a narc—”
“Answer the question, Joachim.”
“I don’t know where Mal gets his shit. But I could find out if you want—”
“Joachim, I
don’t
want you going around asking questions. Is that understood?”
“Sure—”
“Because Malcolm Carey is trouble. These questions are just between you and me.”
“Whatever you want, Cindy…can I call you Cindy?”
She held back a smile. “What does Sean buy from him?”
“I imagine everything. Uppers, downers, coke, roofies, scag—”
“Sean buys heroin from Malcolm?” Cindy interrupted.
“I suppose.”
“But you’re not sure.”
“I know Sean occasionally smokes the shit. Where else would he get it from? I mean Malcolm
owns
Westbridge.”
“How do you know that Sean uses heroin?”
“Everybody knows. Sean brags about it, among other things. Guy has a big mouth.”
Cindy paused. “What else does he talk about?”
“What doesn’t Sean talk about? What drugs he’s taking, which girls he’s screwing—”
“He talk about…” Cindy swallowed. “Sean talk about that
older
woman at all?”
“Jeanine Garrison?” Joachim nodded. “Yeah. All the time. He keeps telling people not to tell anybody. In the meantime, everyone knows they’re screwing. At least that’s what
he
says.”
Cindy nodded. “Tell me more about Sean and Jeanine.”
He paused. “You mean the rumors?”
Cindy felt her chest pound. She played along. “Yes, I mean the rumors. How valid are they?”
“Who knows?” Joachim paused. “God, you know
everything
—”
“I have my inside information,” Cindy lied. “But right now I’m talking to you. So give me your take on the rumors.”
Joachim said, “I think they got started because Sean’s been acting so weird lately. Especially after Estelle’s. You know about Jeanine Garrison’s parents?”
“Shot dead at Estelle’s. Go on.”
“Okay…then…when Jeanine’s brother OD’d…you know about that?”
“David Garrison. Found dead of an OD in his apartment. Continue.”
Joachim looked grave. “I mean, the woman loses her parents…well, no one thought too much about that. Because we all thought it was just a lunatic doing target practice. But after her
brother
bought it…”
Joachim kneaded his hands.
“See, she came into lots of money after her parents were murdered. Sean was saying that Jeanine was resentful about sharing her inheritance, especially since her brother was a hype.”
Cindy nodded. “Go on.”
Joachim sighed. “Rumor was that Sean…paid Mal to stick a needle into David Garrison’s vein. To make it look like an accident.”
“Sean hired Malcolm to off David Garrison?”
“That was the scuttlebutt. And, you know, that Mal’s psycho enough to do it.” A pause. “It’s probably just bullshit. But you know, once things get said out loud—they take on a larger-than-life scale. All of it…made Sean look like a real badass.”
Cindy sat down on the bed. She said, “Joachim, it is of the utmost importance that you don’t repeat this conversation to anyone. All of this, it’s just between you and me. You can’t breathe a word of it. For your own safety.”
Joachim stared at her. “You’re not really from the school. You’re a narc, aren’t you?”
Cindy didn’t answer. Instead she said, “Now I want you
to repeat what you just told me about Sean Amos and Jeanine Garrison and Malcolm Carey. Talk about the rumors and Sean being a user and Malcolm being a pusher and a bad guy. I want you to repeat all of it.”
“Repeat it to you?”
“No. Repeat it to Lieutenant Decker.”
“When?”
“Now.”
“Now?”
“Now!”
Joachim looked at her. “He’s your superior, isn’t he?”
For once, Cindy didn’t have to lie. “Yes, Joachim. Lieutenant Decker is my superior.”
Reading yesterday’s paper
at one in the morning. Decker wondered why he bothered. The news was never uplifting. Sitting in his pajamas and bathrobe at the dining table, sipping weak coffee, wishing the nightmares would vanish. Still, he couldn’t complain. Only five weeks since Estelle’s and he made it through the night about half the time.
He heard a bedroom door open, turned around. Sammy froze in his tracks, an odd smile on his face. “Hi.”
“Hi.” Decker put the paper down. “Trouble sleeping?”
Sammy shrugged. “I guess. Thought I’d get something to drink.”
“Anything specific on your mind?”
“No, I’m fine.” The teen rubbed his hands together. “Are you always up this late?”
“Sometimes. I like it when the house is quiet.”
“So then…no one’s called here in the last half hour?”
Decker’s eyes bored into the boy. “What kind of phone call would come through at one in the morning?”
“Yeah, silly question, huh?” The teen looked away. “I’ll be in the kitchen. Bye.”
The boy scooted out.
Now what the hell was that all about?
Within minutes, Sam materialized. Again, that funny smile. “I’m going back to bed.”
“Good night, Sam.”
“’Night.”
Decker watched his stepson disappear behind his bedroom door, went back to his paper. A few minutes later, an engine purred, headlights shining into the house. Then silence and darkness. A door opening and closing. Again, he put the paper down, got up, and peered through the bay window.
What in the world?
A shadow resembling his daughter. He opened the front door and in walked Cindy. Decker’s eyes shot down to his naked wrist where his watch usually sat.
“It’s one-fifteen,” Cindy informed him. “Glad you’re up. I’ve got someone in the car you need to talk to as Lieutenant Decker. I’ll give you a few minutes to get dressed.”
Then she walked out. Decker was stunned. Resisted the urge to bolt after her. Instead, he went to get dressed. By the time he was back, Cindy had brought in a boy. Way too young to be a date. A gawky kid of around seventeen, garbed in baggy clothes. Peach fuzz sat on the face. But the eyes were alert and well focused…anxious as well.
Decker nodded. The boy nodded back. Unnoticed by his stepfather, Sam had tiptoed in, stopped, stared openmouthed at Cindy and Joachim. Cindy’s eyes drifted over her father’s shoulder to Sammy, who was making gestures at her. Slitting his throat with his finger.
Still, she plowed ahead. “Lieutenant, this is Joachim Rush. I believe the name is familiar to you. Joachim, this is Lieutenant Decker.”
Instantly, Decker’s chest started pounding. That was all he needed—a heart attack at one in the morning. The boy extended his hand.
“Sir.”
Decker shook it, managed to keep his expression neutral, hoped he could do the same for his voice. “Have a seat. I’ll be with you in a moment.”
Decker crooked a finger at his daughter. Cindy looked past him at Sammy, who was gesticulating frantically, swinging his arms out, mouthing the words: no, no, no.
“What are you looking—” Decker turned around.
Sammy gave him a little wave.
Cindy said, “Good night, Sam—”
“Hold on a minute,” Decker said. “You’re not going anywhere. Can someone tell me what’s going on?”
Cindy spoke to the teen. “We’ll get down to business in a moment. Sam, why don’t you keep Joachim occupied for a little bit? Take out a Scrabble board.”
Her stepbrother had the same sick grin on his face.
“Do it
now
, please,” Cindy said.
Sam tightened his bathrobe. “Sure.”
Before Decker could speak, Cindy took her father’s arm, steered him into the kitchen, out of Joachim’s earshot. Still, she whispered. “Dad, give me a chance and I’ll explain everything.”
He was a fraction of a second away from exploding. But his daughter’s expression held him back. A look of intensity, of purpose. He spoke quietly. “You’ve got thirty seconds. Make it good.”
“Joachim knows nothing about your suspicions regarding Jeanine Garrison, that she had planned Estelle’s as a front for her parents’ hits. My opinion? Joachim had nothing to do with Estelle’s, period. He was at a Scrabble tournament when the shooting went down. I’ll tell you how I found that out later. Actually, this isn’t about Estelle’s at all. It’s about David Garrison. There have been rumors at Westbridge Prep that Sean Amos might have hired someone to ice David Garrison with a needle. Make it look like an accidental OD because everyone knew David was a hype. Prime candidate as hit man is a student/dealer named Malcolm Carey. I’d say more but my thirty seconds are up.”
Decker stood speechless, then forced words from his throat. “Good Lord, what have you gotten into?”
“Me? Nothing. I’m just a conduit—”
“How’d you…” He glared at her. “Sammy drag you into this?”
She returned his fiery expression. “Does it matter, Dad?
The point is, you’ve finally got a way to get to Jeanine Garrison—”
“Estelle’s isn’t even my case anymore—”
“Oh
screw
that—”
“Shhh. Give me a moment to think. To absorb what you just threw at me.” Decker’s brain was awhirl. “What kind of rumors?”
“Might be better if you heard it from Joachim.”
“Cindy, how do you know the kid’s not onto you, snowing you with lies?”
“I have my reasons. But talk to him yourself. If you disagree, I’ll defer to you.”
“But you don’t think he’s involved in any crime?”
“Dad, far as I can tell, his only
crime
is dishonesty. He sells his brain, writes papers and essays for people like Sean Amos.”
“For a price.”
“Yes, for a price. Matter of fact, Joachim was negotiating a paper with Sean Amos when Martinez spied them in the school’s parking lot. The envelope that he saw exchange hands…money for an English essay.”
“You
asked
him about that meeting?”
“Of course not. Everything was done indirectly. Daddy, he didn’t tell me about the plagiarism scheme. I guessed it. That’s how I tripped him up. Joachim not only cribs for Sean, but for others. I told him I was Cindy Cohen, hired by the school to investigate a big homework deception scandal—”
“You figured out that cover by yourself?”
Cindy nodded.
“Just…made it up? On the spot?”
She smiled. “You’re impressed?”
Decker was
very
impressed! But he didn’t tell her. Instead, he said, “And he fell for it?”
“No, not completely. Now he thinks I’m a narc. He thinks I’m working under your command. Actually, I sense that he doesn’t know
what
to believe. Except he knows that you really are a police lieutenant. So he’s scared enough to talk. I suggest you take advantage.”
Decker cocked his head over his shoulder. “What’s Sammy’s part in all of this?”
“He overheard you and Rina talking about the Garrison case, had some ideas of his own. He didn’t know how to broach you, so he called me.” Cindy waited a beat. “He did it because he cares about what matters to you. So do I.”
No one spoke.
Cindy said, “Dad, Joachim might not be the break you need. He might not pan out. But he
is
an in to Westbridge. If you had hired your own private detective, you couldn’t have done any better, correct?”
Decker didn’t answer.
Cindy said, “Malcolm Carey’s got a lock on Westbridge. You want chemicals, you go to him. Deals in pot, rock cocaine, powdered coke, roofies, ice, and heroin. He’s a bad boy. Certainly Joachim is entitled to talk to the police about criminal activity at his school. Just hear him out. You know I’m making sense.”
“Yes, I know. But I’m not objective right now.” Decker spoke to himself. “I need a third party.”
“How about Rina?”
“Better yet, I’ll call Marge. Go take care of your charge and I’ll be out in a few minutes.”
Cindy said, “Thanks for keeping your cool, for not playing irate parent—”
“That’ll come.”
“No doubt.” She kissed her father’s cheek. “But nothing I can’t handle.”
Marge had brought Oliver. Martinez and Webster had wanted to come as well, but Decker had nixed the idea. Too many people. Might make the kid choke.
The burst of activity in the house had awakened Rina. She walked into the brightly lit living room, eyes squinting, a dazed look on her face. More than anything she wanted to know why Sammy was playing Scrabble at 1:45 in the morning. Cindy took her into the kitchen, tried to explain things. But it left Rina even more confused. Still, she didn’t
argue. Instead, she made a pot of decaf, deciding to sort it out later.
Sam finished his game with Joachim by two, put away the board and tiles, then retired. Rina went to sleep ten minutes later, leaving the group sitting around a table, coffee mugs in hand. Decker gave Joachim center stage. He told his story, speaking slowly and carefully.
Marge was the first one with a question. “Has Sean heard these rumors?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“What did he say about them?”
“Shrugged them off.”
“Did they bother him?” Oliver wanted to know.
“No,” Joachim said. “At least, that’s my perception. I told Cindy…is that really your name?”
“Yes. Go on, Joachim.”
“It seemed like Sean enjoyed the notoriety,” the kid said. “Made him look like a hard case. Because up until then…he was just another whiny rich boy. No one took him seriously.”
Cindy said, “He’s popular. You told me that.”
“You have that kind of money, you’re superficially popular. But that doesn’t prevent people from talking behind your back. Sean’s a first-class slacker.”
“He’s on the tennis team,” Cindy argued.
“Yeah, he does athletics,” Joachim said. “But mostly he parties—gets drunk or stoned, then screws around. Also, he and his friends like to tag on the weekends. Mostly street or stop signs. Their big forays into criminal activities.”
Joachim made a face as if to say Amos couldn’t even cut it as a felon.
“Sean did get some brownie points when he started doing Jeanine. Impressive at first, but even then people started poking him behind his back.”
“Could be they were jealous,” Oliver said.
“Yeah, I’m sure they were,” Joachim said. “Still, he was getting a rep of being pathetic, that she treated him like a trained dog—‘Fetch, boy, roll over and play dead.’”
He paused.
“
I
never saw it. But you’d hear things.”
The teen licked his lips.
“I’ve known Sean for a while. Seen him react to all kinds of situations. The talk about Jeanine…it got to him. He started acting weird. Especially after Estelle’s. Because the dissing got worse.”
“Why?” Oliver asked.
“Because everyone kept saying that Jeanine was going to dump him now that she’d inherited money. See, up until then…no one could figure it out…him and Jeanine. I mean, no one had any trouble understanding his attraction to her. But why would she be interested in Sean? They figured she had to be after his bread.”
“Wasn’t Jeanine rich in her own right?” Marge asked. “Even before her parents died?”
“I have no idea. But I do know that Sean’s dad is really rich…Texas oil money. Sean has lots of toys.”
“What kind of toys?” Oliver asked.
“Typical Westbridge stuff—the sports car, the skis, the wet suit and surf boards, the five-eight-five PC with CD-ROM, the winter vacations in Switzerland, the summers on the Riviera. Plus the private tennis lessons. Sean plays the local circuit. He’s not very good. But I know professional instruction doesn’t come cheap.”
Marge asked, “Do most Westbridge boys belong to Greenvale, Joachim?”
The teen nodded.
“And most of them are rich?”
“Yes.”
“Then Jeanine could have had her pick of boys.”
“Probably.”
“So why do you think Jeanine chose Sean?”
“I don’t know.”
Decker said, “After Jeanine’s parents were killed, you said kids began to razz Sean.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And he began acting weird?”
“Yes.”
“Define weird?”
Joachim thought a moment. “Short-tempered. Also physical. Apparently, he’d gone psycho at a couple of parties, got into a few shoving matches. Also…” He sighed.” “He raped a girl. Sean claims it was a party thing…that everyone was drunk and the girl consented. But she claims it was rape. You know…rophynol…roofies.”
“Any charges filed?”
“Not that I know of.”
“So you have no way of knowing whether any of it is true or not.”
“No. But when you hear the same story over and over…”
“What about Sean’s drug use?” Decker asked.
“I tutored him,” Joachim said. “I’ve seen him use.”
“What does he use?” Decker pressed.
“Pot, coke…heroin. He used to smoke it. After he hooked up with Jeanine, he started chipping.”
“Mainlines?”
“Don’t know.” He was quiet. “You know, you get a rep as a real badass if you use a needle. That and doing hookers without wearing skins. It means you don’t give a shit. Viral Russian Roulette. They’re all
crazy
. I mean, they’ve got
everything
and all they can think about is frying their brains. I don’t
get
it.”
The room went silent.
Joachim said, “That’s when the rumors about Sean popping David Garrison got started. When Sean started using a needle.”
Again, the boy paused.
“You know, it worked. The badass image, I mean. People stopped razzing Sean after David Garrison OD’d. I think they were…afraid of him.”
Decker said, “Tell me about Sean and Malcolm Carey. Are they buddies?”
“Malcolm’s kind of a loner. But he and Sean did start hanging out together after David Garrison died.”
Decker said, “Malcolm is in charge of Westbridge’s drug distribution?”
“Yeah.”
“Does he have any competition?”
“Not that I know of.”
“Who does he buy from?”
“Don’t know,” Joachim said. “But he speaks fluent Spanish. And he took French in school. I know this because I’ve tutored him.”
“Is Malcolm a rich kid?” Marge asked.