Decker raised an eyebrow.
“Yeah, I ain’t as dumb as I look.”
“I’m from Gainesville, Chief Merrin. You know we’re not all that different. Matter of fact, I use it all the time.”
“Use what?”
“The accent,” Decker said. “Whenever I’m with a highbrow-someone I perceive as a slicker-the drawl gets thicker and thicker. The things people try to pull once they hear that twang in your voice.”
“Then you shoulda known better. Whaddaya need?”
“A girl’s been murdered. Brutally.”
“Brutally, yes, but in New Jersey.”
“I think the reason for her death originated here.”
“Go on.”
“Her death was a side effect of her uncle’s murder. And I’m not willing to rule out the family-yet.”
“You want me to investigate the family based on… what?”
“Sir, I don’t expect you to do anything. You’ve got a town to run. I, on the other hand, have a few more empty days to play with. If possible, I’d like the names of the north side kids whom Shaynda Lieber used to hang out with. Maybe she confided in someone outside of her community.”
“I doubt that.”
“You’re probably right. Nevertheless, I’d like to give it a shot.”
“Unfortunately, I can’t give you names. They’re minors. While I feel very bad about that girl’s death, I believe with all my heart that it had nothing to do with Quinton or its citizens. Sorry, Charlie, can’t let you disrupt my town just on a hunch.”
“Well, how about this? Through my wiles and resources, I managed to land a couple of names. Would it get your nose out of joint if I paid them a call?”
Merrin’s eyes narrowed, staring at Decker over the rim of his coffee cup. “What names?”
“Just a few local Quinton kids who were hauled in for possession of ecstasy down in Miami. Correct me if I’m wrong, but some of them might even be eighteen by now.” Decker maintained eye contact as he sipped. “Of course it’s up to you, sir.”
“I suppose I shouldn’t ask how you found out about it.”
“We all have our ways, right?”
“You are one sneaky bastard.”
“Coming from you, I’m sure it’s a compliment.”
“Which ones do you want to talk to?”
“Ryan Anderson and Philip Caldwell. Both of them have reached their majority.”
“What do you know about them?”
“Nothing.”
“Then I’ll tell you something.”
“Please.”
Merrin sat back, eyes on the ceiling, hands resting on his belly. “Every town, every city has its share of bad boys. For Quinton, it’s Anderson and Caldwell-two nasty little pricks who think it’s a hoot to throw shit in their hometown and watch with glee while someone else cleans it up.”
“The parents have money.”
“Yes, they do, and we both know that money can buy a lot of janitorial work. But even money can’t clean everything.” He put the coffee cup down and leaned over. “This stays between the two of us, you hear me?”
“I hear you.”
“Those two have done some edgy things in these parts as juveniles. Things I don’t need to go into. When they came back from Miami-after I heard what happened down there-I put the fear of God into them and into their families. I do b’lieve we came to a mutually satisfactory agreement.”
Decker waited.
“It goes somethin’ like this,” Merrin said. “I don’t poke my nose in their affairs as long as they keep their mess outside my jurisdiction. That don’t mean they can get away with murder. If I seriously thought those two dogs had anything to do with the death of that little girl, I’d have their dicks in a vise so fast, they’d be talking like Alvin and the Chipmunks. But short of the biggies-murder, rape, assault, robbery-I don’t want you messing with their heads. Simply because I don’t want those two bothering me or the fine citizens of Quinton. If that seems selfish, I can live with that.”
“Can I talk to them?”
“No, you may not go to their houses and interrogate them. But if you give me a couple of hours… well, maybe I can set something up here in the station house. Nice and clean and officially sanctioned.”
“More than fair, Chief. Thank you.”
“I suggest that in the meantime you go find yourself a nice, warm restaurant and nurse a long cup of coffee. Or… if your dick needs attention with the wife out of town, go on over to Tattlers and tell them that Virgil Merrin sent you. That way, you can have a good meal and some fine scenery on the house. Tattlers likes to cooperate with the law. It’s in their best interest.”
Decker tried to smile wickedly. “Sounds nice.” He took a calculated risk. “I wouldn’t mind some company. Wanna come with me, Chief?”
Merrin smiled with smoker’s teeth, but his eyes never left Decker’s face. “Now that’s kind of you to ask, but right now I’m backlogged. Another time, maybe.”
Decker nodded. “You got it.”
“Maybe I misjudged you, Lieutenant.” Merrin continued to study the face. “Or maybe I didn’t and you’re being cagey.”
“Innocent until proven guilty. That’s American jurisprudence.”
“Nah, that ain’t American jurisprudence.” Merrin unhooked his holster and pulled out a Beretta. “This is American jurisprudence.”
“Are you telling me something, sir?”
“I’m not a man to cross.”
“I figured that out.” Decker got up. “Thank you. You’ve been more than accommodating.”
Merrin rose, his belly straining the buttons of his shirt. From a wastebasket, he took out a pocket umbrella. “You might be needing this.”
“Great.” Decker took it, then extended his hand. “Thanks again.”
“Not a problem. Always happy to help out.”
They shook hands, extending the routine gesture just a little too long. Grip-to-grip and eye-to-eye, they were engaged in something more than a pissing contest, but hopefully less than mortal combat.
Tattlers wasn’t a bad idea. If he could catch a cab, Decker figured he’d be there around three-thirty-after the lunch trade but before the dinner hour. If he were patient and charming, maybe he could slip a few bucks to one of the girls for an interview. Not that they’d admit dealing, but things would come out if he were clever enough. And, if nothing else, it would eat up the time. Merrin had told him to check with him in a couple of hours. If he made it back to Quinton around five, perhaps the chief would have one of the boys waiting for him. Maybe both of the boys.
Or maybe neither.
Because there was something about Merrin that bothered Decker. Actually, there was a whole lot about Merrin that irked him, but specifically that one off-the-cuff comment-an obvious blooper: “If your dick needs attention with the wife out of town, go on over to Tattlers and tell them that Virgil Merrin sent you.”
If your dick needs attention with the wife out of town…
Now how had Merrin known that Rina had gone?
It was that kind of throwaway remark that made Decker stand up and pay attention, glancing over his shoulder, checking behind his back. It was that kind of wisecrack that made him wish he had a gun.
Cabs weren’t readily available in small towns: They had to be ordered. As Decker walked through the park, umbrella over his head, he found a phone booth under a pavilion and placed the call to the local dispatcher. Twenty minutes later, a taxi came by. Decker shook out the umbrella and slid inside the back. The interior was damp and slightly ripe, but the seats were whole and held workable seat belts. The windshield defogger was going full blast, stale air keeping the front window clear. Decker strapped in and told the driver the address. The cabbie-a thin young Caucasian with shorn hair, a pierced eyebrow, and a tattooed neck-turned around, his eyes dull and confused.