CHAPTER 2
I grabbed my walkie-talkie. "You guys stay here." They nodded and looked relieved. "I'll tell you what's going on in a minute."
The sound of a gun is familiar to me because my Mom has a twenty-two that we take to the target practice range about once a month. That was a gunshot we heard all right.
Peering around the corner, I dove behind a bunch of bushes. I moved along slowly, military-style for real this time.
My walkie-talkie made some static noise. I turned it down, and called Mikey on it.
"Anything yet?" he asked in a low voice.
"Nothing," I whispered back.
About midway through the field, I saw a patch of red moving through the bushes. The patch became a man in a red jacket, as he slowly went up the slight incline that led out of the field and onto the asphalt. He adjusted his jacket, and looked around.
I ducked, but wasn't quick enough. He saw me. He looked over to the area where I was crouching for a long time, and it seemed as if he wasn't sure what to do.
The weeds were stabbing me and sweat was dripping off my face as I waited for him to make a decision.
Then, he got in a black truck and drove off.
After a few minutes, I called Mikey on the walkie-talkie. "The coast is clear."
"Good," he replied.
"There was a man here, but he left. You guys can come out now." I stood up and stretched so they could see my location. They came out slowly, looking around.
"What's the deal?" Mikey asked, as they approached me.
I told them about the man and the red jacket, the whole story.
"Let's look around," said Mary.
"Okay," I replied, "let's fan out. You take the area to the left, Mikey, and I'll take the right. Mary, you go down through the middle, but keep me in sight, okay? Cotton, you're on your own, boy."
Mary nodded.
We spread out, and started searching. We didn't even know what we were looking for, but this was the most excitement we'd had for weeks.
Minutes passed as we trudged through the underbrush.
Mikey saw it first, and called me on his walkie-talkie. "Eddie...." he said slowly.
"What."
"Head over in this direction. Don't bring Mary." I could hear Cotton barking loudly by Mikey.
Oh-oh. This was bad. I moved casually towards the left side of the field, shrugging my shoulders for Mary's benefit, acting like I hadn't found anything.
Then, I saw it too as I approached Mikey. A mans boots stuck out of a thick grouping of bushes. Mikey stuck his head in there to get a better look.
"I think it's a dead guy," he said quietly. I moved the bushes for a better look. The man was face down and blood was streaming from the side of his head.
I let the bushes go, and stepped back. "He's dead, Mikey."
"Are you sure?"
"As sure as I can be. I don't want to really turn him over, do you?"
He shook his head. Mary noticed us, and headed towards the thicket where we stood.
"We can't let Mary see him," I said. She was just too little to see this.
Her eyes were like saucers when she saw the boots. "What is it?" she asked.
"Don't look, Mary. You don't want to look at what's in there," I told her.
"What is it?" she repeated.
I wiped my nose with my shirtsleeve. "It's a man. We think he's dead."
"You mean, the other man shot him?"
"Probably."
She sat down on a large rock. "We'd better call 9-1-1."
Now why didn't I think of that?
We ran towards my house, glad to get out of there.
Mikey had the good sense to pack up our equipment while I was checking out the man in the red jacket, so we didn't need to go back to headquarters.
Or, so I thought.
My Mom never seemed to be home at critical moments like this, and in all the excitement I had lost my key, so we sent Mary through the doggie door to open up the house.
The three of us dashed into the kitchen, with Cotton hot on our heels.
"Who's going to call?" asked Mikey. None of us had ever called 9-1-1 before, so we flipped a coin for it. Mary won.
Beep, beep, beep. "Hullo," she said softly, "is this 9-1-1 emergency?"
Silence.
"Uh, we need to report a shooting. I mean, a dead person."
Silence.
"Yes, ma'am. No, ma'am. This is not a joke." She rolled her eyes at me.
Silence.
"The address here is 346 Rubicon Street. My name is Mary Smith. The shooting---"
"Yes, ma'am. Thank you."
She hung up. "They're sending a patrol car. She thought I was joking or something."
She pulled on one of her pigtails. Mikey bit his nails. I tapped on the counter. Cotton licked one of his paws.
Pull, pull, chomp, chomp, tap, tap, lick, lick.
"Why don't we wait on the porch?" Mikey said.
Now, why didn't I think of that?
In a few minutes, a patrol car pulled up in front of the house. Two uniformed cops got out of the car, and I saw Old Man Faraday peeking through his curtains.
The cops hiked up their pants, and headed in our direction. "Did you kids call the Emergency 9-1-1 number?" One rested his foot on the porch stair and put his arms on his knee, bending towards us. He was the friendly one, the other guy just looked bored.
"Yes, sir," I said. I appointed myself spokesman for our group.
"Is your Mom here?" Friendly cop said softly.
"No, sir. I think she's at the store." Where the heck was she? This guy was pretty good-looking, definitely Dad material. I checked out his left hand. Nope, no ring.
"So, what's up?" he said.
"Well," I began, "we were in the field over there," I pointed in the general direction of the field, "and a man came and shot another man."
He didn't move, but a frown appeared on his face. "If I go with you," he said, "can you show me where...where it happened?" His partner looked a bit more interested now.
"Sure," I said. I turned to Mary and Mikey. "You guys stay here, in case my Mom comes home, okay?"
They nodded, and I felt sorry for them having to stay with Mr. Bored Cop. Oh, well. Then I saw Mrs. Katz heading over to our house. Now I really felt sorry for them.
Just about everyone in the neighborhood was on their porch now, watching with interest as I headed towards the vacant field with Friendly Cop. This guy was pretty nice, asking my name and how old I was, what grade was I in, stuff like that.
I checked out his gun. They sure give cops some big hand-guns. This thing was much bigger than our twenty-two.
We reached the field and I told Friendly Cop what had happened that afternoon. The same frown was on his face again. We made our way through the overgrown field until we came to The Boots.
A short distance from the body, he told me, "You wait here."
I waited, and saw him peek through the bushes at the guy, as I had done. He gave his partner a sign, waved his hand, and I could see Bored Cop running towards the patrol car.
Well, after that, things started happening quickly. It seemed like every Cop in Denver was there, some in marked cars, some in unmarked cars. Most parked in front of the field, blocking the street. Friendly Cop took some wide yellow tape and put it all around the outside of the bushes around The Boots. I waited for him as he talked with some men I figured were detectives.
There were about thirty cops and detectives in the field now, and a crowd of neighbors stood watching with interest.
Friendly Cop came over to me with another man. "Well, Eddie, let's go back to your house now. This is Detective Morgan, and he wants to ask you some questions."
Detective Morgan looked like a big bear stuffed into a man's suit. This guy was huge. He was tall and fat and I wondered why his suit didn't split wide open.
"Well," he said heartily, "nice to meet you Eddie."
There are adu
lts who like kids and adults who don't like kids, and I know the difference. Morgan was one who didn't like kids, and probably didn't have any of his own. He had a fake smile, a wimpy little handshake, and I didn't like him right from the start.