LITMIR.BIZ

Скачать книгу

“He was the same boy—thoughtful … he could be quiet. But quiet doesn’t mean depressed, you know.”

      “Of course not,” Decker told her. “I hate to ask you this, Mrs. Hesse, but how about past drug use?”

      “Nothing!”

      “Tell me a little about Gregory’s interests. What about extracurricular activities?”

      She was taken aback. “Uh … I know he tried out for the debate team.” Silence. “He did very well. They told him to come back next year when there’s more room.”

      Meaning he didn’t make it. “What else?” Decker said.

      “He was in math club. He excelled in math.”

      “What did he do on the weekends?”

      “He was with his friends; he went to the movies. He studied. He was taking a full load including an AP course.”

      “Tell me about his friends.”

      She crossed her arms in front of her ample bosoms. “Gregory may have not been one of the popular kids.” She made air quotes over the word popular. “But he certainly wasn’t an outcast.”

      “I’m sure he wasn’t. What about his friends?”

      “His friends were … he got along with everyone … Gregory did.”

      “Can you be more specific? Did he have a best friend?”

      “Joey Reinhart. He’s been friends with him since grade school.”

      “Any others?” Marge asked.

      “He had friends,” Mrs. Hesse kept repeating.

      Decker tried a different approach. “If Gregory had to fit into a high school category, what would it be?”

      “What do you mean?”

      “You mentioned the popular kids. There are other cliques: jocks, skaters, stoners, nerds, rebels, brainiacs, philosophers, hipsters, Goths, vampires, outcasts, artistes …” Decker shrugged.

      The woman’s mouth was set in a thin line. Finally, she said, “Gregory had all sorts of friends. Some of them had some problems.”

      “What kind of problems?”

      “You know.”

      “Problems to us usually mean, sex, drugs, or alcohol,” Marge said.

      “No, not that.” Wendy kneaded her hands. “Some of his friends were a little slower to mature. One boy, Kevin Stanger … they picked on him so bad that he transferred to a private school over the hill.”

      “He was bullied?” Decker asked. “And by bullied, I mean physical contact.”

      “All I know is he was transferred.”

      “When was this?” Marge asked.

      “About six months ago.” The woman looked down. “But that wasn’t Gregory. No sirree. If Gregory were being picked on, I would have known about it. I would have done something. I’ll tell you that much.”

      Precisely the reason why Gregory might not have told her. Decker said, “He never came home with unexplained bumps or bruises?”

      “No! Why don’t you believe me?”

      “I do believe you,” Decker said. “But I have to ask certain questions, Mrs. Hesse. You want a competent investigation, right?”

      The woman was quiet. Then she said, “You can call me Wendy.”

      “Whatever you’d prefer,” Decker said.

      Marge said, “Any girlfriends in his life?”

      “I didn’t know of any.”

      “Did he go out on the weekends?”

      “Mostly, he and his friends go to each other’s houses. Joey’s the only one old enough to drive.” Wendy’s eyes welled up with tears. “Mine never will.” Instant sobs. Decker and Marge waited until the hapless woman could find her voice again. “A couple of times”—she wiped her eyes—“when I went to pick him up … I saw a few girls.” She dabbed her eyes again. “I asked Gregory about them. He said they were Tina’s friends.”

      “Who’s Tina?” Marge asked.

      “Oh … sorry. Tina is Joey’s little sister. She and Frank, my younger son … they’re in the same grade.”

      “Did Joey and Gregory go to the same school?”

      “Bell and Wakefield. In Lauffner Ranch.”

      “I know it,” Decker said.

      Bell and Wakefield was the North Valley’s exclusive prep school on twenty acres with a state-of-the-art football field and indoor basketball arena, a movie studio, and a computer lab worthy of NASA. It prized sports, dramatics, and academics in that order. Lots of pro athletes and actors lived in the area and B and W was a natural repository for their children. “About fifteen hundred students?”

      “I don’t know exactly, but it’s a big school,” Wendy said. “A lot of breathing room to find your special place.”

      And if you don’t find your place, it’s a lot of room to get lost, Decker thought.

      Wendy said, “Joey’s a goofy kind of kid. About five eight and weighs about a hundred pounds. He wears big glasses and his ears stick out. I’m not saying this just to be mean, just to tell you that there were lots of other kids that would have been bullied before Gregory.”

      “Do you have a picture of him?” Decker said.

      Wendy rummaged through her purse and pulled out his grade-school graduation picture. It showed a baby-faced boy with blue eyes and pink chubby cheeks. Puberty was years away, and high school never treated those boys kindly.

      “May I keep this?” Decker asked.

      Wendy nodded.

      He closed his notebook. “What would you like me to do for your son, Wendy?”

      “Find out what really happened to my boy.” There were tears in her eyes.

      Decker said, “The coroner has ruled your son’s death a suicide.”

      Wendy was resolute. “I don’t care what the coroner says, my son didn’t commit suicide.”

      “Could it have been an accidental shooting?”

      “No,” Wendy insisted. “Gregory hated guns.”

      Marge asked, “So how do you think he died?”

      Wendy glanced at the detectives while kneading her hands. She didn’t answer the question.

      Decker said, “If it wasn’t accidental death by his own hand and if it wasn’t intentional suicide, that leaves homicide—either accidental or intentional.”

      Wendy bit her lip and nodded.

      “You think someone murdered your boy?”

      It took a few moments before Wendy could speak. “Yes.”

      Decker tried to be as gentle as possible. “Why?”

      “’Cause I know he didn’t shoot himself.”

      “So you think the coroner missed something or …” Wendy was silent. Decker said, “I have no problem going to the school and talking to some of Gregory’s friends and classmates. But the coroner is not going to change her determination unless we find something extraordinary. Something that would directly contradict a suicide. Usually, it’s the coroner who comes to us because he or she suspects foul play.”

      “Even if it was … what you say.” Wendy wiped her eyes with her fingers. “I don’t have … a clue … to what

Скачать книгу