School Days - By Robert B. Parker Page 0,35

know? Even Mrs. Root couldn't keep from laughing. Dell was pissed."

"That sort of thing happen a lot?" I said.

Erika shrugged.

"We all thought he was pretty dumb," Janey said.

"He useta carry a knife," Carly said. "You know, one of those big hunting jackknifes."

"A buck knife," I said.

"Yeah. Like that. Comes in a little leather case?"

I nodded.

"He ever use it?" I said.

"Naw. He used to flash it around a lot when there was no teachers. But that's all."

"He date much?" I said.

"Ick!" Janey said.

"That would be a no?" I said.

"He was creepy," Janey said.

"Like?"

"Like, you know he'd say stuff. . . ."

"Hey," Erika said, imitating a boy, "you girls like it rough?"

"Did he play rough?"

"He was the kind of guy, you're standing in line in the cafeteria and he's rubbing up against you, trying to get a feel," Janey said.

"Yeah, one of those guys accidentally bumps your boob with his elbow," Erika said, making quote signs with her forefingers around "accidentally."

"And he was always talking about fighting and guns," Janey said, "and, you know, like, how tough he was."

"Was he?"

Again, the girls deferred to Carly. He shrugged.

"He's big, but, like, he's a fucking buffoon, you know? Nobody was scared of him, 'cept a few pussies he could pick on. Guys on the team told him fuck off."

"Did he pick on Jared?" I said.

"Not that I seen," Carly said.

"He hung out at the Rocks?"

"Yeah," Carly said. "Animal was his freaking hero."

"You surprised he shot up the school?" I said.

"Hell, yes," Carly said. "I didn't think he had the balls, you know?"

"How about Jared," I said.

Carly shrugged. He looked at the two girls. They shook their heads. He shook his head.

"He didn't seem the type," Carly said.

"He was just like going about his business," Janey said.

"He tight with Grant?"

"Him and Dell? No," Janey said. "I never saw them hanging, you?"

Erika said, "No."

Carly shook his head.

"Jared get along with the faculty?" I said.

"I don't know," Carly said.

"I never heard about him getting in trouble," Erika said. "I think he's seen Miss Blair a couple times. She's, you know, the guidance lady."

"I know," I said. "You know why he saw her?"

"Oh, Christ," Janey said. "They send you to see Blair if you're late twice. Make sure you don't have, like, a fucking emotional problem."

"You've seen her?"

"Sure. I told her I didn't have a problem. The school had a problem, it was fucking borrrrrring."

We all laughed.

"I remember it well," I said.

Chapter 35

I WENT TO SEE Chief Cromwell in his office at Dowling Police headquarters. DiBella had called ahead for me, so they wouldn't open fire when I arrived. But I still had to wait a long time at the front desk. I was willing to. And finally, they sent me on in.

Cromwell mad-dogged me for a while, giving me the deadeye cop stare he was working on. I moved a chair a little closer to his desk and sat down and crossed my legs.

"Hi," I said.

Cromwell stared some more.

"How ya doin'?" I said.

More staring. Then, when he had me softened up, he spoke.

"You just won't learn," Cromwell said.

"I can't," I said. "Nobody tells me anything."

"What do you want to know, for crissake. We got the killers. They've confessed. What the fuck are you after?"

"I know where they got the guns," I said.

"Yeah?"

"And how they got the money to buy them."

"Yeah?"

"You ever have any complaints about either of them?" I said. "Clark or Grant?"

"Yes."

Cromwell leaned back in his chair. I noticed the pearlhandled .45 was back in its shiny holster on the corner of his desk. Looked good there.

"Well," Cromwell said after a while. "I can't talk you out of this, and I can't seem to scare you off."

"You could try charming me," I said.

"Would that work?"

"No, but I wouldn't have to punch you in the balls."

He rocked his spring-loaded swivel a little.

"Nobody wants this opened up," he said after a while. "The kids' parents, the school, the kids themselves."

He looked at me heavily for a minute.

"I don't. Town doesn't. We want to wrap it up neat and put it away and get on with it."

"How 'bout the people who lost someone in the shooting?" I said.

"They want it over. They know we got the bastards. They want to see them fry, and they want to move on as best they can. Nobody wants you opening up all the fucking wounds again."

"They won't fry in this state," I said.

"I know, just a manner of speaking," he said. "Been simpler if we'd shot them dead on the spot."

"That would