The Big Splash (11 page)

“Hey-Sal-what's-shakin'-I-needa-root-beer-and-an-sbpbj-no-crust-lightly-toasted-thanks-man! Hey-Matt-what's-the-story-kid-you-gotta-photo-for-me-to-peep-or-what?” When Jimmy was anxious, he talked fast, like a hyperactive kid on a soda bender. I passed the torn news photo over to him. He studied it for a second.

“That's from an Ellie paper.”

“When?”

“Fifth, I'd guess.” Sal came over and put Mac's sandwich down in front of him. “Thanks, Sal.” Sal nodded and walked away. Mac took a bite, then looked at the photo again. “I remember this. Spring of fifth, right before we moved on to the Frank. They had some kind of end-of-school dance to celebrate us leaving.”

“The Spring Fling.”

He snapped his fingers. “The Spring Fling! Right! I was there doing a little ‘Smile here!' and ‘Look casual,' trying to get some stuff for the paper. Total fluff, man, and on the front page. Well, to be fair, there wasn't much to report on in Ellie. First through fifth is a total snooze-fest, news-wise.”

“Who was in the missing half?”

“Don't know. I remember the circumstances, not the details. I don't even think I took that picture. Plus, Joey was a total hound back then. A different girl every day.”

“Him?”

“Yeah. Chicks dig the bad boy. Plus, the dating scene in Ellie is totally different than here, right? ‘Going out' meant you might hold hands on the playground.
Pff.
Big deal. It didn't mean anything then … not like it does now.”

“Right. You think you can find the other half of this?”

“Sure … sure. I'll have to do a little digging, but I think so.”

“How long?”

“Couple of days, tops.”

I grimaced. Two days might be too long.

He read my expression. “Could be quicker than that,” he said. “But it may not. I've got to search through some boxes in the garage. Why, what's the matter?”

“I don't figure Joey for the Nikki hit.”

I got a good view of Jimmy's half-chewed PB and J. “Joey didn't do Nikki?”

“No, and keep it down, would ya?” I said.

“Why? As far as everyone's concerned, the story's as cold as frozen tater tots. Cut-and-dry case of school-yard justice.”

“Right. And everyone thinking that is just fine with me. Allows me to work under the radar for a while.”

“Gotcha … gotcha …”

“But I've got to move on this quick. It's already Tuesday. I've got three more days to solve this thing.”

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“Come on, Mac. You know as well as I do that in the Frank, the weekend's like a reset button. If this thing drags out 'til Monday, I might as well just let the assassin go.”

He nodded. “Yeah. Good point. So where'd you get your info?”

“Joey told me, right before his number came up.”

“Hardly a reliable source,” he said, and took another bite of his sandwich. “Whatcha think, he was just gonna confess?”

“Well, yeah. I went at him because I had an eyewitness who fingered him at the scene. My theory was pretty simple …”

“He took out Nikki to take her place.”

“Right. Except when I put it to him, he denied it. Then he gave me that photo, along with these.”

I slid over the note and the hall pass.

“‘Do it or get out of the way,'” Mac read. “Any chance he …”

“Wrote that note himself, concocted the whole story, just to take himself off the hook?”

“Yeah.”

I shook my head. “He's not that smart. Plus, it doesn't make sense. You know Joey, right?”

“Yeah. He freaks me out.”

“Yeah, he freaks everybody out. He's really cocky …
was
really cocky. If he did Nikki, there's no way he'd deny it. In fact, you'd have a hard time shutting him up about it.”

“Well, maybe afterward he lost his nerve.”

“You're telling me he worked up the nerve to take Nikki Fingers out, but lost it when it came time to take credit?”

“Yeah. I see your point.” He looked at the note again. “Who's ‘B'?”

“Some girl Joey used to see. If Joey was as big a hound as you say he was, it's going to be hard to track her down. The other half of that photo is the best lead I've got.”

“I'm on it.” He took his last sip of soda, then slid off the stool.

“And listen,” I said, “you can't run this yet.”

He looked at me as if I were slow in the head. “This isn't amateur hour,” he said. “If I run this story now and it turns out to be bunk, I look like a jerk.”

“That hasn't stopped people before.”

“Yeah, I know … Grab the readers
now!
Who cares if you make a mistake and ruin some kid's life? Apologize for it later! And those apologies usually end up on page eighteen, in type so small you'd need a telescope to read 'em. Other kids may feel okay doing that, but not me.”

“Yeah,” I said. “I know.”

“Then why say anything?” he asked, but he wasn't
really mad. He was smiling. I returned it. Mac was honest, and at the Frank, that was as rare as a decent lunch from the cafeteria. “Just promise me the story when it's done.”

“Who else would I go to?”

“Good point,” he said. “Listen, I still have an hour before my dad gets home. I could root around the garage for a while without having to play Twenty Questions.” He threw three bucks on the counter. “See ya, Sal,” he said as he strode out the door.

“Later, Jimmy.” Sal was now sitting with the two morose eighth graders, sulking right along with them. Whatever they had was contagious.

I finished my sandwiches, put some money on the bar, said my good-byes, and left. I rode home slowly, running the whole scenario through my head as I pedaled.

Our mystery player “B” wanted Nikki taken out, but didn't necessarily want to get her hands dirty. So first she contacted Joey, an old flame who usually had no problem whacking kids. Except this time he does. It might be too generous to credit Joey with having a moment of clarity. It seems more like an animal instinct for self-preservation. So, in that moment of self-preservation, Joey says he needs some time to think about it, which
in his line of work is a way of saying no without actually saying no. It's like your mom saying “we'll see” when you ask her for ice cream after dinner. So as he's thinking about it, “B” sends him a few mementos, hoping to persuade him through his heart. No dice. So “B” goes through with it on her own, but tries awfully hard to pin it on Joey. She was pretty successful. But why did she send the envelope if she was prepared to do it herself? She might have been a little nervous, sure … but to leave incriminating evidence seemed sloppy to me. But who was I to say? So far, I was the only one who cared about this case enough to still be working on it. Maybe she had counted on that. She had to know that most kids around here hated Joey and wouldn't care what happened to him. Or maybe she was just sloppy. People are sloppy all the time. The more I thought about the possibilities, the more the answers seemed to slip away.

When I got home I was pooped, but still had some work to do. As I was unlocking my office door, the phone started ringing. I got to it on the fifth ring. It was Kevin.

“What the hell are you doing?” he barked.

“Hello? Who is this?”

“You know damn well who it is. What did you say to Vinny?”

“I told him the truth. I don't think Joey popped Nikki.”

“You know how that makes me look?”

“Yeah, like an idiot.”

“You don't get it, do you? If Joey didn't do it, I'm screwed.”

“Well, whose fault is that? Huh? You're the one who went off half-cocked and took out the wrong kid.”

“You have proof?”

“Maybe.”

“This isn't a game, Matt!”

“I've got a lead. That's all I'm going to tell you, so you might as well stop asking.”

“Bury it.”

“What?”

“Bury it. Get rid of it. I know we haven't been the best of friends lately, but we used to be. So please, in the spirit of that …”

“This is the second time you've brought up our old friendship. You must really miss me.”

“Damn it, Matt, Joey was scum! He may not have deserved it for this hit, but—”

“—he deserved it for others,” I finished. “Yeah, I got that memo earlier today. What about justice for Nikki, huh? Or is that not as important as saving your own skin?”

“She's already gone. She can't come back. Don't send me along with her.”

“I've gotta go.”

“C'mon, Matt! Don't make me do something I don't want to do.”

“Are you threatening me?”

“Maybe. Maybe you shouldn't stay awake too long tonight. Your mom might have a later night than usual.”

“What? You son of a—” But I was talking to an empty phone line. I yelled at the dead receiver, sputters and grunts and enough curse words to make my principal's head explode. I dialed Kevin's number. The click of the phone being answered was like a sprinter's gun: I heard it and took off.

“If you do something to my mom, I swear to God—”

“Matt?” It was Liz on the other line.

“Is Kevin there? I have to talk to him.”

“No, he just ran out. What's wrong? What were you saying about—”

“Nothing,” I said abruptly. “Forget it.”

“Don't snap at me.”

“Liz?” a shrill voice called out in the background. “What are you doing on the phone this late?” It was her mother.

“I have to go,” Liz said.

“Get off the phone!” the voice cried out. “Now!”

“Just give him the—” I tried to say, but the phone clicked before I could finish. I put the receiver down, sat behind my desk, and stewed. The restaurant was too far away. By the time I got there, whatever was going down would be over. I could call. But what would I say? Pretend I was sick? When my mom got home, then what?
Sorry you didn't make enough money to pay our bills, but I had to fake being sick because Kevin was going to get you in trouble.
That would bring up more problems than it would solve. I would just have to stay awake and wait, like a prisoner in his cell, paying for his crime.

my mom came in at 4:30 A.M., I was more asleep than awake.

“What happened?” I mumbled.

“Vat of cooking oil fell over in the kitchen, right as we were heading out the door. Total mess,” she said, her voice filled with exhaustion. She kissed my forehead and stumbled off to her room.

I wasn't sleepy anymore. I could see Kevin's face in my mind, smirking at me. Two hours later, my alarm was going off. It wasn't going to be a good day.

My mom and I met in the kitchen twenty minutes
later, our eyes barely open. Our conversation consisted of halfhearted grunts, more gorilla than human. Somehow we both managed to get out the door. Halfway to school, I realized that I had forgotten to eat. So the first thing I did when I got there was grab breakfast in the caf. The second thing I did was walk up to Kevin and punch him in the mouth.

“Wake up on the wrong side of the bed this morning, Matt?” he asked, smiling.

I responded with a left jab to the other side of his mouth. He expected the first punch, but not the second. A thin line of blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. He wiped it off with the back of his hand. A small crowd formed around us, encouraging us to continue.

“You
had
to drag her into this,” I growled. “She didn't have anything to do with it. It was between you and me.”

“And you weren't taking me seriously. I wanted to remind you that you should.”

I hit him again, this time on his nose. His eyes teared up. He staggered back a couple of steps, but didn't go down. I lowered my head and charged, driving my right shoulder into his ribs. The back of his head clanged off the lockers. I rebounded off of him, losing my balance a bit.
He didn't hesitate; he put his hand on my face and pushed me over. I fell, but rolled right back to my feet before he could get a shot in. We squared off, each waiting for the other to make a move.