School Days - By Robert B. Parker Page 0,24

toward the lake shore. Scattered about on its surface were a bunch of prototype suburban dropouts who had been deposited more recently. I counted three girls and ten boys, plus one guy who was too big to be a boy. He was an obvious bodybuilder, heavily tattooed and of apparently mixed ethnicity. I guessed Asian and Hispanic. Riding the smell of the lake was the rich scent of marijuana. Pearl smelled it and stopped. She was not bumptiously friendly. When she spotted the group, her ears went down and she came over beside me.

"My name is Spenser," I said. "I'm looking into the school shooting."

"Well yippee iyoh ki yay," one of the kids said.

He was a gangly guy with hair so red it was nearly maroon. He looked a little unfocused. Beside him, the big older guy stared at me silently. He had on jeans and motorcycle boots and no shirt. Most of his upper body was ornamented.

"I was wondering what you all could tell me about Wendell Grant," I said.

"So who's that with you," the red-haired kid said, "Dr. Watson?"

One of the three girls threw a pebble at Pearl. It missed, but Pearl shied a little closer to me. I looked at the girl. I knew how it was going to go, but there was no help for it.

"Next person bothers the dog, goes in the lake."

Everybody looked at the big guy with the tattoos. He remained seated on the rock.

"That's my girlfriend you talking to," he said.

"Good to know," I said. "Wendell Grant hang around with you all?"

"I'm talking to you, pal," the big guy said.

"Squint your eyes a little," I said.

He stood.

"What's that supposed to mean," the big guy said.

"Makes you look more dangerous," I said. "You squint up, like this, and you say, `I'm talking to you, pal.' No emphasis on any of the words, you know. Scares the shit out of people."

"Jesus, mister, don't fuck with Animal," the red-headed kid said.

"Animal needs to be fucked with," I said, "about once a day."

Animal walked at me with his fists chest-high and tried to kick me in the groin. He was ferocious but slow. I turned away from the kick and hit him a straight left on the nose. The nose broke and began to bleed. I didn't want this to take long, because I didn't want Pearl to get scared and run off. I hit him with a flurry of lefts and rights while he was still trying to get over the initial pop on the schnozzle. He took a couple of steps backward, trying to cover up, trying to regroup. I put my hands on his shoulders and spun him and put my foot in the small of his back and shoved, and he stumbled and slid down the hill and fell in the lake.

I looked around. Pearl was about thirty feet away in a full, belly-scraping cower. I went over to her and squatted down beside her and put an arm around her.

"Okay," I said. "All over. Okay." She sniffed at my mouth. "Okay," I said.

She gave me a lap on the nose. I stood, keeping one hand on her neck, patting her. The silence around the Rocks was vast. I could still smell the weed, but I heard nothing. At the foot of the hill, Animal was sitting in the lake trying to splash water on his face. The blood from his nose was seeping pink through his hands.

"Jesus," the red-haired kid said.

"I'm looking for information," I said, "about Wendell Grant."

"I never seen anything like that."

I was still pumped, and it made me a little brusque. "Care to see it again?" I said. "Throw something at the dog."

Nobody said anything. At the foot of the hill, Animal sat in the water. He wasn't splashing water on his nose anymore. He was simply sitting, slumped in the water, his reputation in ruins about him.

"Wendell close with anyone in the group."

Nobody spoke.

"Anybody got any idea why he might have shot up the school?"

Silence.

"Or where he got the guns?"

Silence. The three girls got up as if they were one. They were in full costume. A lot of hair. A lot of makeup. Cropped T-shirts that stopped well above the navel. Low-rider pants that barely covered the pubic bone.

"I'm sorry I threw something at your dog," one of them said. "I like dogs."

"You Animal's girlfriend?" I said.

"We all are," she said. "Can I pat your dog?"

"No."

They all three shrugged at almost the same time and moved away.