way. The cops are gonna figure out who they shot pretty soon. When that happens they’ll be looking for you again.”
“I know.” He said. “I’ll be careful. Thanks Ben. Thanks man. And tell Jessie too.”
SEVEN
Jessie was pissed that I hadn’t told her I’d called David on the night of the shooting. She wanted to know how he sounded and what he’d said. Everything I told her seemed to confirm her belief that he was innocent. “Maybe Junior Pierson is a drug dealer.” Jessie said. “And Amanda Porgett was going to expose him.”
“What about his wife?” I asked.
“Who knows?” She said. “Married people kill each other all the time for all sorts of reasons. When you get married your chances of being murdered go up three hundred percent.”
“I doubt Junior Pierson’s a dealer.” I said. “He might be mixed up with a dealer or something, but he’s definitely not the type that would be dealing drugs himself. He’s super religious and he does all that charity work. Haven’t you heard of the Pierson Foundation? His father started it.”
“Well how’s he make his money?” She asked.
“It’s family money.” I said. “And investments and stuff. He’s not a nine-to-fiver, he was born rich, that’s all.” The TV was distracting me so I put it on mute. “Listen if we’re gonna figure shit out, we’d better start with Freddie Divos. You heard David, he said Freddie set him up. Freddie Divos knows the whole thing, he’s our key.”
“What are you gonna do, beat it out of him? Cut off another one of his fingers?”
“No, but I can keep an eye on him.” I said. “Maybe he’ll do something that will give him away and I can tell the cops.”
“Yeah and maybe he won’t.” She said. “How are you going to watch his place when you’re supposed to be working?”
“I’ll keep my ears open and maybe we’ll get lucky.” I said.
“Oh great, I’ll call David and tell him his troubles are over.” She said.
“Well what do you think we should do?”
“Research.” She said. “There’s got to be a ton of stuff in the public record about the Pierson family. I’ll look for anything that connects Junior to Amanda Porgett. You should focus on trying to find out why Junior wanted to kill his wife. Don’t go around asking a lot of questions or anything, but see if there’s any rumors. And maybe look for stuff in the old call books at the guardhouse. Noise complaints, domestic disputes, that kind of thing.”
The next morning she left the house early to do research on the computers at the library. Monday’s were a day off work for both of us. I stayed in bed until ten thirty when hunger got me up. I had a peanut butter and jelly sandwich on toast with my coffee. I got out of the shower feeling refreshed and drank more coffee sitting in the living room, flipping through the Cleveland Scene free newspaper.
It was after one o-clock when Jessie got home. She was in an excited state, which probably seemed exaggerated to me because I was feeling mellow. “There’s a connection.” She said, slapping a stack of papers on the table. “A big one. Check it out, just two weeks before she was killed, Amanda Porgett wrote a story about a place in Port Sound called Extended Families. It’s a place for kids waiting to be put in foster care or adopted. Guess who funds it?”
“Junior Pierson?”
“Bingo. The Pierson Foundation. The article is about how Extended Families only wants little white girls. Apparently they’re the easiest to find homes for and the staff is trying to boost their numbers by hardly taking any blacks or latinos. It was supposed to be a series of articles, which is probably why they killed her. She was going to expose what a fucked up place it is. She was going to interfere with their business. You know there’s tons of money to be made off adoptions, and Extended Families even gets money from the state. There might be some sort of government corruption scandal here.”
“Wow.” I said.
“Yeah, and that’s not all. Guess who owns PG Financial?”
“Junior Pierson?”
“Yep.” She said. “He’s the chairman of the board of directors.”
“So what’s that mean?” I asked
“I don’t know but it’s a connection.” She said. “He owns all kinds of stuff around here. He owns a majority share in Megapark!”
“Really?”
“Yep, and that’s not all. They own lots of shit.” She nodded to the stack of papers on the table. “There’s a list in there.” She pulled a bag of weed from her makeup case and opened it, taking a clump out and putting it on my newspaper. She started breaking it up to roll a joint. “We’re almost out.” She said as she prepared her rolling paper. “We have to call Jack.”
“It seems like we just got that.”
“It goes quick.” She said. She rolled the sticky buds back and forth in the paper, and stopped for a moment to put a couple of crumbs that had fallen back into the joint. She licked the edge and completed the final roll. Her joints are always perfect.
“It’s not good joint-weed.” I said. “It’s still kinda damp. It doesn’t burn right in a joint.”
“Yeah.” She agreed, passing a lighter beneath it to dry out her saliva, “It wants to be smoked in a bong, but I don’t feel like changing the water. Besides, I miss joints when I use the bong all the time.”
“Because it’s more like smoking a cigarette that way.” I said. “You miss smoking Marlboros, not joints.”
“Yeah, you’re right. I’d loooove to smoke just one Marlboro Light -on a cold morning with a big cup of coffee. Just me, all alone, sitting at the kitchen table with strong coffee and a cigarette. That would be heaven.” She lit the joint and inhaled, passing it to me. I took a hit and handed it back.
“You’d look cute bald.” I said.
“Okay random.”
“I’m just saying you lose your hair when they give you chemo. You don’t seem like a wig type to me. Maybe a scarf…” While she was hitting the joint there was a loud knock at the door.
She put out the joint and I slid the ashtray under the sofa while she put the bag of weed back in her makeup case. “Clean up the table.” I said, pointing to the newspaper with the weed crumbs on it. I went into the kitchen and got the Lysol, and came back spraying liberally as I went. I could see the shadow of a man trying to peer in the window. “Just a minute.” I called out.
“Relax. It’s probably just my mom.” Jessie said.
“No it’s not, unbutton your shirt.” I whispered.
“Huh?”
“Just do it.” I said. “And be buttoning it up so they can see. They’ll think we were fucking.”
“Who?” She asked fiddling with her top button.
“The cops.” I said. I set down the Lysol and went to the door. I pulled the curtain back and saw detectives Reyes and Borgano. I took a deep breath before I opened the door. “Hi.” I said, too friendly for the occasion.
“Mr. Perkins, do you mind if we come in for a moment to have a word with you?” Detective Borgano asked. He didn’t wait for a response before pushing past me into our living room. Jessie stood up and began re-buttoning her shirt. She looked just flustered enough and I was glad to be working with such a pro. Borgano surveyed the room and took a couple of sniffs. Detective Reyes walked in and stood beside her partner. I shut the door.
“What am I smelling?” She asked. “Is that Lysol?” She turned her head to watch me as I walked into the room.
“Yeah.” I said. “We got a mold problem. The smell drives us nuts. This is my girlfriend Jessica Carrick. Jessie, detective Reyes and detective Borgano.”
She shook hands with Reyes first and then Borgano. “I saw you on TV.” She said. There was an awkward silence where Jessie was supposed to say ‘you looked good’ or ‘nice work’ or something, but she let the silence ride. If I wasn’t having an internal freak out I would’ve thought it was funny.
“This won’t take long Mr. Perkins.” Reyes said. “We only have one question we’d like to ask you, and I want you
to consider the consequences of your answer. An untruthful answer could mean criminal charges.” She let that sink in, while I did my best to look perplexed. “Where is David Telano?” She asked.
“I don’t know.” I answered truthfully. They both looked at me. “I guess he’s in a morgue somewhere in Reno.”
“Keep playing dumb.” Borgano said. “See how far that gets you.”
“The police in Reno shot Ricardo Tajara, David’s cousin.” Reyes said.
“Wow.” I said. “That’s… surprising.” I felt intensely self-conscious and didn’t know what to do with my hands. I folded my arms and then unfolded them too quickly while they watched. I was starting to fray around the edges so I looked at Jessie. She had her eyebrows raised at me. I turned back to the cops who stood there mutely staring at me. “We always used to call him Baby Rico.” I said. “He hated it, but that was how everyone knew him. That family has three Ricos and he was the youngest.”
“Fascinating.” Borgano said. “Do you mind if I use your bathroom?” Without waiting to hear the answer he walked into the kitchen and I could hear the door to the basement opening.
“The bathroom’s down the hall over here.” Jessie said.
“What’s down here, is this the basement?” He asked as we heard his steps descending the stairs.
Jessie walked into the kitchen with Reyes and me following. She stopped and turned to Reyes. “I guess he’s supposed to be the bad cop.” She said.