Fear Nothing (Detective D.D. Warren #7) - Lisa Gardner Page 0,134
how to spot the boys who like other boys. Especially the ones who are pissed off about it.”
“Charlie was afraid of his parents’ reaction?” D.D. asked.
“Hell if I know. I mean, his parents were conservative, sure. A happy homemaker married to the local firefighter? But I don’t think it was his parents. I think it was Charlie himself. He wanted to be just like everyone else. Except, he had this thing, you know. Nowadays, maybe not such a big deal. But thirty years ago, being a boy who liked boys in a place like Southie could get you killed. So he fought it. Spent all his time becoming someone else. He was good at it, too. A real actor. But, of course, I knew the truth.”
“Because you possess the world’s best gaydar?” D.D. arched a brow.
“Nah, because I caught him with Donnie.”
“What?”
“He had his hands down his cousin’s pants. I saw it, clear as day. Then Charlie looked up, spotted me and made a big show of pushing his cousin away, like they were just roughhousing or something. But I knew what I saw, and he knew it, too.”
“How did Donnie appear?” Phil asked.
“Upset. I don’t think he was happy about Charlie’s attention. But Charlie was bigger, stronger. What could Donnie do?”
“And you didn’t tell this to the police thirty years ago?” D.D. demanded.
Hayes shrugged. “No one asked. Besides, Shana was the one pulling a bloody ear out of her pocket. Even knowing Charlie had assaulted his cousin, I still think Shana was the killer. Charlie had a mean streak, sure, but he was direct. When he wore his leather jacket, Mr. Tough Guy, you looked out. But in a button-down shirt, Mama’s Boy, no problem. It was like he had a switch, flipping things on and off. Even violence was simply a matter of being in character.”
D.D. felt as if her head was going to explode. “When did you last speak to Charlie?”
“Shit. Another lifetime ago. I mean, I left the neighborhood just six months after Shana’s arrest. Haven’t seen him since.”
“Do you know he’s working on a book on his cousin’s murder?” Phil spoke up.
Hayes shook his head.
“He hasn’t tried to contact you about it?”
A smirk. “Like he’s really gonna ask me any questions about Donnie.”
D.D. nodded. Which might lend some truth to Hayes’s story, as it seemed suspicious, or just plain conspicuous, that Charlie had contacted or interviewed everyone but Shana’s foster brother about the night of the murder.
“If Charlie wasn’t sleeping with Shana, what was their relationship?”
“I dunno. Frenemies? I mean, they hung out from time to time. In a neighborhood that small, beggars can’t be choosers. But Shana considered him to be a big phony. Threatened to slash his stupid coat on a number of occasions when he pissed her off. Charlie appeared to stay clear of her. Then again, I’d catch him watching her from afar. He seemed fascinated by her. You know, from a safe distance.”
“You think he’d help her break out of jail?”
“Charlie? Shana? They’ve kept in touch?”
D.D. nearly said no, except that wasn’t the truth. Charlie had written to Shana. Several times in the past three months. She’d never replied. That was the big deal, right? He’d written but she wouldn’t answer his notes.
Unless that was somehow the code. No reply was a reply.
Because the truth of the matter was, there’d been a major change in Shana’s life starting three months ago. And that had been Charlie Sgarzi, aka the Great Pretender, supposedly working on his book. What were the odds that Charlie’s reappearance and Shana’s disappearance weren’t related?
“You think Charlie would help her?” D.D. repeated.
Hayes made a face. “The Shana I knew . . . She was crazy, and not in a good way. Whatever I might have thought about Charlie, he was never stupid. In fact, he was pretty fucking clever. So him, choosing to get involved with her . . . Nah, I don’t see it. Then again, people change.”
“Have you changed?”
Hayes nailed her with a look, gestured to the chair.
“I mean since that night, what did you learn?”
“Don’t let your foster sister play with sharp objects.”
“Mrs. Davies misses you.”
Hayes squirmed, the guilty flush back on his face. “Are we done?”
“We’re going to take your Harry Day gift package.”
“Fuck!”
“But maybe, if we can corroborate your story, one day we’ll give the items back.”
“Nah.” Hayes seemed to surprise even himself with his change of heart. “I don’t want them. The money, sure. But the actual stuff . . .