“He certainly didn’t agree with the investigation’s findings,” she said dryly, “but that’s hardly grounds to convict him of illegal gun sales.”
“Don’t downplay it, Detective,” the captain admonished her. “If he thinks the department let him down, it could be a possible motive for wanting to get even.”
Madeline closed her mouth against further argument. Defending Cruz Martinez wasn’t in her job description. She was, after all, carrying out her assignment.
She refused to listen to the mocking voice inside questioning just who she was trying to convince. Brewer, her father, or herself?
As Madeline walked toward Martinez’s desk, he jumped up. “You’re here, great.” He rounded his desk and headed toward, then past her. She turned and followed him outside.
“I take it we’re in a hurry,” she surmised as they went toward the car.
“That we are, Detective Casey. I just called Philadelphia Memorial Hospital and Ramsey Elliot is able to have visitors. He’s also making noises about leaving the hospital soon, so we need to get over there before he does.” Reaching the car, he tossed her the keys, which she caught reflexively. “Your turn to drive, remember?”
Madeline slid into the driver’s seat and Cruz sat on the passenger side. “Buckle up, Madeline,” he chided her playfully. “You’ve heard the commercials. Click it or ticket.” Bending forward, he reached for the car radio, batting her hand out of the way as she would have selected the station. “Uh-uh, it’s my turn. Passenger gets to choose the music.” Soon a plaintive country song was filling the air.
“Oh, good heavens,” Madeline said, throwing him a look of disgust. “You weren’t kidding yesterday. You really do listen to this stuff.”
“I never kid about good music,” he informed her solemnly. “Just give it a chance. It will grow on you.”
Like a fungus, she thought, but kept the remark to herself. She checked out his feet. Today they were garbed in yet another pair of cowboy boots. She’d made a few phone calls before she had met him this morning, and she was still stunned at the amount she was quoted over the phone for such a pair. Her head still swam with the different kinds the clerks had reeled off. Ostrich skin, rattlesnake, kangaroo… She was too untutored to discern the type he wore, but as she’d expected, they were expensive. Her eyes swept his figure, slouched in the seat next to her, and she smirked. Maybe he spent all his money on boots-the rest of his wardrobe seemed limited to jeans and casual shirts. She ignored the way they enhanced his body and returned her gaze to traffic.
“What do you have on Ramsey Elliot so far?”
“Not much. I was able to question him a little bit after he was brought in, while he was waiting for surgery. Then the doctor kicked me out and I haven’t spoken with him since. I did talk to his mother, though. She’s the one who told me he was a member of the Lords. He’s fifteen, and according to her, he’s only been running with them for a couple of months. Since he’s hooked up with his new friends she’s had all kinds of trouble with him-skipping school, fights, vandalism. He’s currently on probation for a charge of assault. He jumped another kid in the hallway at school.”
Madeline didn’t comment. The story he was telling had all too familiar a ring. On the streets of Philadelphia kids like Ramsey grew up fast, and an alarming number of them didn’t have the chance to grow up at all. “Have you talked to any other members of the Lords?”
“A few, but they didn’t have much to say. We need to concentrate on them next. Unless you have another idea?”
She shook her head. Their best bet would be to lean heavily on the gang, and try to anticipate their next move.
At the hospital a nurse showed them the way to Ramsey’s room. As they approached it, they heard raised voices.
“I told you to stay out of it!”
“Why should I, huh? You didn’t. You didn’t stay out of it, and look where it got you! Lying in a hospital bed with your stomach full of lead!”
“Forget about it. It’s too late, anyway. I can’t-”
The voice broke off as the nurse pushed open the door, announcing their arrival. “You have more visitors, Ramsey.” She looked at Cruz and Madeline. “Don’t stay too long, Detectives. He still tires easily.” They nodded and approached the bed.
“I’m Detective Martinez, Ramsey, and this is Detective Casey. I spoke to you for a few minutes after you were brought in, do you remember that?”
The youth was silent, his gaze distrustful. Finally he muttered, “Yeah, I remember you.”
Cruz looked at the other visitor in the room. “Who’s this?”
“My brother, Ricky.”
“Hi, Ricky.” The boy nodded and ducked his head, not looking at either detective. Cruz’s attention shifted back to Ramsey. “I’d like to go over the statement you gave me regarding your shooting.”
“Why? I told you everything.”
Cruz leaned against the wall next to the bed. “Let’s see, shall we? Sometimes people remember things without even realizing it.” He consulted the notebook he’d brought with him. “You said you didn’t see the face of the person who shot you, but you saw the car?”
“Yeah, I told you, it was a dark green car. I don’t know what kind, but it was old. There was lots of rust on it.”
“Did you hear it coming?”
“What do you mean?”
Madeline bit her lip. Cruz would have tough going with this one. The young man was determined not to give them any more information than he had to. She studied the youth in the bed. He looked older than fifteen. He was a handsome boy, despite the strain the shooting and the surgery must have had on him. His eyes held a worn weariness she’d seen too often on the streets, sometimes in children younger than this one. It was a look carried by someone who’d seen too much, and eaten too little. One that said he didn’t even expect to live to adulthood.
Her attention was snared by the brother, Ricky. He hadn’t stopped moving since they’d entered the room. He picked up various objects-the water pitcher, the box of tissues-and then set them down again. He’d moved away from the bed now, and was leaning against the wall. One knee was bouncing nervously. She smiled at him. “Hospitals make you uncomfortable, huh? Me, too. I can never get used to the smell.”
He looked surprised to have her speak to him, but he smiled shyly. “Yeah, man, and is it ever clean! I thought my mom was bad, but there’s this nurse here, she’s a real beast about germs.”
Madeline laughed softly. “You must have been spending a lot of time here with Ramsey.”
He nodded. “My mom comes, too, when she can, but she works two jobs, so she don’t get much time off. I come whenever I can find someone else to watch Rhonda-that’s my little sister. I don’t like to bring her much. A hospital is no place for kids, ya know?”
She nodded in agreement, silently noting that Ricky wasn’t much more than a kid himself. He looked only about twelve or thirteen, and lacked the world-weary air of his brother. “Who watches your sister when you come to the hospital?”
Ricky’s shoulders went back defensively. “I always make sure she’s taken care of. Mom would kill me if I left her alone. There’s a lady in our building, she don’t mind looking out for her. Today I took her to the library. Rhonda loves it there. She reads real good, for only being eight.”
“It sounds like Rhonda is lucky to have you for a big brother,” Madeline said sincerely, and the boy smiled in genuine pleasure at the compliment.
“Ricky!”
All heads swiveled at Ramsey’s voice. When he had his brother’s attention, he ordered tersely, “Pour me some water, will ya?” Ricky obediently tended to his brother, and Ramsey settled back in the bed. He exchanged a long glance with Madeline and she knew he’d issued the command to put a stop to her conversation with the boy. Just what is it you’re afraid of? she questioned silently as they stared at each other. Is it your distrust of the police that makes you keep Ricky close to your side? Or are you afraid he’ll tell me something you don’t want us to know?