Parker 02 - The Guilty (16 page)

knowing the surgery didn't leave much of a scar.

"I don't know why she keeps calling," I said. Amanda

glared at me with one of those
don't you dare patronize me

looks. I had to remind myself that Amanda was much smarter

than I was. "Okay, I know why she's calling. But she doesn't

want me back. She's just hurting and needs someone to help."

"I don't have a problem with that," she said. "I know you're

a great friend. But ignoring her, telling her to leave you alone,

I feel like you're doing it for my sake rather than hers. If you

want to do something, do it. But stop with the
I don't know

why she's calling
crap."

"I don't want to do anything," I said. "I have you. That's

where my attention deserves to be."

I wrapped my arms around Amanda, held her close, hoped

she knew I was telling the truth.

"I turned my back on her once," I said. "I just don't want

to be cruel. I know she's been having problems. I've heard

she's been drinking too much, that she's alienated her friends.

Being the daughter of a political animal is a full-time job, and

Mya wanted to have her own life."

"Look," she said, "I'm not saying you should leave the girl

to drown in a distillery, I'm just saying this isn't normal.

Forget any girlfriend neuroses, it's just not healthy for

someone to do what she's doing. If you don't clear things up,

it's only going to get worse."

"You think so?" I asked.

"Come on, she's not the only girl who's ever wanted a guy

she couldn't get." I stared at Amanda, cocked my head. "Oh,

give it a rest. You think you're the first guy I've ever liked?

Come off your high horse, Johnny. I had a life before we met."

"I know you had a life. I know there were probably other

134

Jason Pinter

guys," I said. "I just don't want to know about them, hear

about them, or think that they exist. I'd rather believe you

wore a chastity belt your first twenty-five years, and the only

guys you liked were flamingly gay men who wore big bushy

mustaches and called you 'girlfriend' in an ironic manner."

She laughed. "Now who's kidding who? Just think,

though, if you can react like that to me just
insinuating
I've

liked other guys, imagine how I feel that a girl you actually

had a relationship with is begging for your jock at 3:00 a.m."

"She's not... Okay, you have a point."

"I usually do."

"Okay, I promise to talk to Mya. Now I have to get to work,

time's wasting. I need to find out where this gun came from.

First I need to talk to Jack."

I opened the phone, dialed O'Donnell's direct line. He

picked up on the first ring.

"Hello?"

"Jack, it's Henry. You busy?"

"I was going to have my shoes shined, and hope a stray

bullet didn't find my old ass."

"Listen, can you meet me at O'Grady's restaurant in

twenty minutes?"

"You want me to leave the office to meet you somewhere,

you'd better give me a reason, and it better not be that you're

in the mood for an undercooked hamburger."

"No, but I might have a hell of a scoop on the Paradis

murders, and I need some help."

"Are you stupid, kid? Half the
Gazette
goes to O'Grady's

for lunch. Meet me at McPhee's pub in twenty, at least we

can talk in private. Besides, it's the only bar in a ten-block

radius that charges less than five bucks a beer. What's the

occasion for this midday imbibing?"

The Guilty

135

"I need you to use the archives and run a search for me,

then bring whatever you can find."

"A search for what?"

"Guns," I said. "I need to know what museums and collections carry authentic Winchester rifles, model 1873."

"The gun that won the West," Jack said, a sense of romance

in his voice. "John Wayne would be proud. What does this

have to do with the murders?"

"I'll tell you then," I said. "But I think this killer is more

than just a fan of history--I think he's trying to re-create the

bloodiest parts."

21

I walked into McPhee's pub. And immediately decided that

I never wanted to go back again. McPhee's was the kind of

dive bar you were happy to get into in college despite your

crummy fake ID, where the bouncer weighed upward of six

hundred pounds and was covered in tattoos that looked like

they'd been painted on by an epileptic spider monkey. Where

the bartender served beer whose advertisements settled for

round men in green hats because they couldn't afford buxom

women in bikinis. Where the decibel level never rose above

"angry grumble."

Yep, this was Jack O'Donnell's kind of bar.

I walked past several booths that contained paper menus

stuck under dirty glass. The walls were lined with flickering

neon beer signs, the owners apparently making a statement

(that statement being "we don't pay our electric bill").

I found Jack O'Donnell in the very back of the bar, sitting

alone in a dimly lit booth. He was sipping a brown liquid

which, by the fill line, had been an inch higher before I arrived.

"Having a midday nip?" I asked.

"It's eleven in the morning. Either you don't get much

sleep or you have no concept of what midday means."

The Guilty

137

"Actually I was just trying to make a bad joke."

"Bad jokes don't get funny just because you admit they're

bad." Jack took another sip. A waitress came by, her hair

done up in one of those fishing nets that all the classy ladies

were wearing. She was also chewing gum. I could have sworn

chewing gum while serving food had been outlawed alongside smoking and trans fat, but I stayed silent.

"Can I getcha?"

"Coors," I said.

"Bottle or draft?"

I looked at Jack's drink. Noticed an unidentifiable speck

on the rim.

"Definitely a bottle." She smacked her gum and left.

"Probably the safe choice," Jack said.

"I've been known to make a few."

Jack took another long sip. His cheeks were red; I could

even sense it under his beard. No doubt he'd had a nip or two

before I got to the bar, but I wondered if Jack's drinking

calendar had been more busy than usual.

"I have a few leads on the Paradis murders," I said.

Jack said, "I thought you asked me here on a date." I

scowled at him. "So what have you come up with, boy

wonder?"

The waitress came back with my beer. I felt relieved as she

popped the bottle cap in front of me. Somehow I wouldn't put

it past this place to refill empty bottles from the tap.

"It was confirmed that Athena Paradis and Joe Mauser

were killed by the same caliber bullet. And it's only a matter

of time before the cops release a statement confirming the

same bullet and weapon was used to kill Jeffrey Lourdes."

Jack mimicked jerking off, yawning while he did so.

Nobody ever said he wasn't a classy guy. "That's been run-138

Jason Pinter

ning all morning, first or second lead in every major newspaper. It won't make Wallace bat an eye. What else you got,

Nancy Drew?"

"You're an asshole, you know?"

"I know. So spill it."

"The actual bullet used was a magnum .44-40. Very uncommon usage due to its high recoil and over-the-top

stopping power."

"That's true. Cops don't need to go around blowing

suspects in half," Jack said.

"Exactly. So it seemed odd to me that a murderer who obviously went to great lengths to take down Athena and Mayor

Perez, not to mention Jeffrey Lourdes, in such a public

manner would use such an unusual bullet to do the job."

"You're thinking..."

"The killer chose the caliber of the bullets on purpose."

"Keep talking."

I smiled, took a gulp of my beer. Jack was interested. His

shoulders were hunched forward. He hadn't touched his drink

in several minutes.

"Figure if he's using a rifle, he's also gotta be carrying

around something to transport it in," I said. "Suitcase, knapsack. And he's likely staying near transportation, a subway

stop or bus terminal."

"You're not the only one who's thought of that. Rather

than have cops sit in the subway and wait for guys in turbans

carrying ticking packages to walk by, the NYPD has started

searching bags over a certain length and width that are

brought into the subway. They're searching hotels within

walking distance of the stops, as well," Jack replied.

"That's a start, but we can't just follow the cops and report

The Guilty

139

on Carruthers's statements. I want to go ahead and follow up

on the gun. Amanda was able to hook me up with one of her

old professors who's a hair away from certifiable. I gave her

a description of the bullet and rifle, and we think the killer is

using an 1873 Winchester. Like you said, the Winchester

1873 model is known as 'The Gun that Won the West.' It was

by far the most popular model of that era, was used by every

famous lawman and lawbreaker whose ass got sore from

horseback riding."

"This sounds awful thin," Jack said. My heart sank. "But

it also sounds awfully intriguing. And nobody's covered this

angle yet?"

"Not that I know of. But take that gun and the quote from

Billy the Kid, and I'd say this killer has a serious obsession

with the Old West. Somehow Athena Paradis, Mayor Perez

and Jeffrey Lourdes are connected in this guy's mind. The

other day you talked about Billy the Kid being some sort of

Robin Hood." I stopped, looked at Jack. "What if this guy

really thinks he was
right
in killing those people? You know

Wallace won't let me run with the story as is."

"Not with your primary source being a college history

professor, he won't. Even with the gun and ballistics it's too

tenuous."

"Were you able to get those papers?" I asked.

Jack reached into his briefcase, pulled out a leather folder.

From the folder he retrieved several pages of printouts.

"Every museum in the fifty that has a registered Winchester '73," he said.

"Oh man, this is beautiful. Thanks a ton."

"Don't sweat it."

"Can't imagine Wallace will green-light any expenses for

this, either."

140

Jason Pinter

"Doubtful. That assistant who witnessed Lourdes's murder," Jack said.

"Betty Grable."

"She had to be transferred to Bellevue. Seeing her boss

killed like that, something snapped. Hate to say it, but it's a

good thing you got a minute of her time."

"That's terrible," I said.

"Ripples, Henry. Not just the dead are affected by death."

"Guess not."

"That quote," Jack said. "Billy the Kid. You got something,

but it's not nearly concrete enough for Wallace to let you print

it."

"I'll find more," I said. "But I need time, resources."

Jack looked at me, seemed to be weighing something.

Then he took a pen and pad from the briefcase. He opened

the pad, scribbled something on it, then ripped off a piece

of paper and handed it to me. It was a check for two thousand dollars.

"Jack, I can't possibly..."

"Take it," he said. "This will buy you some resources. And

if it leads to anything, I expect to be reimbursed."

"And if it doesn't lead to anything?"

Jack smiled. "Then I expect one hell of a birthday present."

I had nothing to say, but, "Thank you."

"Don't mention it again," Jack said. He finished his drink,

set it down. The waitress came over and he nodded for one more.

He saw my eyes following his. "Trust me, kid, once you get to

my age you can't underestimate the importance of a good drink."

"I'll remember that, but I have a few years."

"Yeah, you do, but they go by quick. Wasn't long ago I was

meeting my boss for drinks. Now," Jack said. "That girl you're

with. Amanda's her name, right?"

The Guilty

141

"That's right." In the year and a half since I'd known

Jack, we'd never discussed Amanda other than platitudes and

pleasantries.

"And you two met during the Fredrickson fiasco."

"They say the best relationships are born out of extreme

circumstances."

Jack's eyes had a flicker of recognition. "I think I heard

that in a movie once."

"Probably."

"How are things going between you two?"

I shrugged my shoulders. "Good, I guess. We're living

together. Soon, I know, after everything that happened, but it

feels good."

"That's nice," Jack said wistfully. "Another thing you can

never underestimate is companionship." Jack, I knew, had

been married, and divorced, three times. "So I guess you'd

say it's serious."

I laughed. "Yeah, I think so. Besides, if Amanda ever

knew I said no to that question I'd wake up the next morning

with no teeth."

"Feisty, is she?"

"She'd kick feisty's ass down the block."

"That's good," Jack said, smiling. "You know I look at you