gun. I had never seen it before.”
I wonder if Dante is telling the truth about that. And if he can tell
small
lies, then what?
“And how about when Walker threatens Feifer again, says this still isn’t over?” says Van Buren. “It sounds
like a big deal to me.”
“He was fronting.”
“Fronting?” says Knight, snorting. “What’s that?”
“Acting tough,” says Dante, glancing at me again for help. “Trying to save face for letting Tom talk him
into putting the gun down.”
”
You two think we’re idiots.
Is that it?” says Knight, suddenly leaning across the table to stick his face in Dante’s. “Ten hours after
a fight that’s ‘no big deal’ and a threat that didn’t mean a thing, Feifer, Roche, and Walco are shot
through the head. A triple homicide-over
nothing.
”
“That’s what I was trying to tell you about it being no big deal,” says Dante, his eyes begging the two
detectives to please understand and see that what he’s saying makes perfect sense. “The only reason
we’re there that night is because Feifer
called
Michael and asked us to meet him there so we could put this drama behind us. And look, here’s the
truth
-Michael was looking to maybe buy some weed on Beach Road. The only reason we ran is because
we heard the whole terrible thing happen and thought the killer saw us. The fact that Feifer called and
asked us to meet him shows what I say is true.”
“How’d he get Walker’s number?” asks Van Buren.
“I really don’t know. I saw Feifer talking to my cousin Nikki at Wilson’s; maybe he got it from her.”
“And how did you feel about
that.
” asks Detective Knight.
“About what?”
“About Eric Feifer putting the moves on your cousin.”
When Knight says that, he’s leaning halfway across the small table again, so when I bring my hand down
hard in the middle of the table, he jumps back as if a gun went off.
“You’re the one with the problem,” I say, my face in Knight’s now, even more than his was in Dante’s. I’m
bluffing, but Knight doesn’t know that. “Dante had nothing to do with these murders. He was there. That’s
all. Now he’s here to share everything he saw and heard that night. But either the tone of this questioning
changes, or this interview is over!”
Knight looks at me as though he’s going to throw a punch, and I kind of hope he will. But before he makes
up his mind to do it, there’s a hard knock on the door.
Beach Road
Chapter 32
Tom
VAN BUREN STEPS outside, and J. T. Knight and I continue to glower at each other until his partner
returns with a large brown paper bag. Van Buren places the bag behind his chair and whispers something to
Knight.
I can’t make out Van Buren’s words, but I can’t miss his smirk. Or Knight’s, either.
What the hell is this about?
“Let’s all calm down here for a second,” says Van Buren, a trill in his voice belying his words. “Dante, did
you stop at the Princess Diner in Southampton on your way out here tonight?”
Dante looks over at me again, then answers. “Yeah, so Tom could use the bathroom.”
“Tom the only one who used the bathroom?”
“No, I think Clarence went too.”
“You think or you’re sure?”
“I’m sure.”
“So that left you alone in the car? Is that right?”
“I didn’t need to go.”
“Really?”
“What are you getting at?” I ask Van Buren, who maybe isn’t as dumb as he seems.
“An hour ago we got a call from someone who was at the diner at about two thirty this morning. The caller
says they saw a very tall black man throw a gun into the Dumpster in the parking lot.”
“That’s a lie,” says Dante, shaking his head and looking at me desperately. “I never got out of the car.
Didn’t happen.”
“You sure about that?”
“Yes, why don’t you send a cop out there and look for yourself?”
“We did,” says Van Buren, a smug smile creasing his lips. Then he reaches
I wonder if Dante is telling the truth about that. And if he can tell
small
lies, then what?
“And how about when Walker threatens Feifer again, says this still isn’t over?” says Van Buren. “It sounds
like a big deal to me.”
“He was fronting.”
“Fronting?” says Knight, snorting. “What’s that?”
“Acting tough,” says Dante, glancing at me again for help. “Trying to save face for letting Tom talk him
into putting the gun down.”
”
You two think we’re idiots.
Is that it?” says Knight, suddenly leaning across the table to stick his face in Dante’s. “Ten hours after
a fight that’s ‘no big deal’ and a threat that didn’t mean a thing, Feifer, Roche, and Walco are shot
through the head. A triple homicide-over
nothing.
”
“That’s what I was trying to tell you about it being no big deal,” says Dante, his eyes begging the two
detectives to please understand and see that what he’s saying makes perfect sense. “The only reason
we’re there that night is because Feifer
called
Michael and asked us to meet him there so we could put this drama behind us. And look, here’s the
truth
-Michael was looking to maybe buy some weed on Beach Road. The only reason we ran is because
we heard the whole terrible thing happen and thought the killer saw us. The fact that Feifer called and
asked us to meet him shows what I say is true.”
“How’d he get Walker’s number?” asks Van Buren.
“I really don’t know. I saw Feifer talking to my cousin Nikki at Wilson’s; maybe he got it from her.”
“And how did you feel about
that.
” asks Detective Knight.
“About what?”
“About Eric Feifer putting the moves on your cousin.”
When Knight says that, he’s leaning halfway across the small table again, so when I bring my hand down
hard in the middle of the table, he jumps back as if a gun went off.
“You’re the one with the problem,” I say, my face in Knight’s now, even more than his was in Dante’s. I’m
bluffing, but Knight doesn’t know that. “Dante had nothing to do with these murders. He was there. That’s
all. Now he’s here to share everything he saw and heard that night. But either the tone of this questioning
changes, or this interview is over!”
Knight looks at me as though he’s going to throw a punch, and I kind of hope he will. But before he makes
up his mind to do it, there’s a hard knock on the door.
Beach Road
Chapter 32
Tom
VAN BUREN STEPS outside, and J. T. Knight and I continue to glower at each other until his partner
returns with a large brown paper bag. Van Buren places the bag behind his chair and whispers something to
Knight.
I can’t make out Van Buren’s words, but I can’t miss his smirk. Or Knight’s, either.
What the hell is this about?
“Let’s all calm down here for a second,” says Van Buren, a trill in his voice belying his words. “Dante, did
you stop at the Princess Diner in Southampton on your way out here tonight?”
Dante looks over at me again, then answers. “Yeah, so Tom could use the bathroom.”
“Tom the only one who used the bathroom?”
“No, I think Clarence went too.”
“You think or you’re sure?”
“I’m sure.”
“So that left you alone in the car? Is that right?”
“I didn’t need to go.”
“Really?”
“What are you getting at?” I ask Van Buren, who maybe isn’t as dumb as he seems.
“An hour ago we got a call from someone who was at the diner at about two thirty this morning. The caller
says they saw a very tall black man throw a gun into the Dumpster in the parking lot.”
“That’s a lie,” says Dante, shaking his head and looking at me desperately. “I never got out of the car.
Didn’t happen.”
“You sure about that?”
“Yes, why don’t you send a cop out there and look for yourself?”
“We did,” says Van Buren, a smug smile creasing his lips. Then he reaches
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