I called butch. To see if there was any news. Any new fact I could busy myself writing onto a four-by-six card, and tacking to the wall.
There wasn’t much. The case wasn’t exactly first on anybody’s list, he said. Everybody still figured the kid had done it. Nothing had been found to suggest anyone else. They’d done the tests on everything found in the alley. Cigarette butts. The cardboard from the box. Larry Silver’s second-to-last resting place.
If they’re so certain, why haven’t they charged him? I asked.
I’m not sure you want to hear the answer to that, he said.
Shit.
What happened? They got something off the cardboard box? Prints?
DNA?
You know I can’t tell you that, Rick.
Cardboard fucking box, I said. When they kill me, I hope they use something a little less declasse to cover up the deed.
I was full of good cheer.
They’d searched the Dumpster, of course. Nothing there to cast suspicion. Only that it didn’t seem to have an owner.
Hard to see how that might mean anything, I said.
Yeah, he said.
But I wrote it on a card anyway. You never knew how things might fit together later.
Butch’s situation was too delicate now. I couldn’t push for anything substantive. So I took a stab in another direction. I told him about the trust papers. That they might point to a motive. Of someone other than Jules.
Interesting, he said. I’ll see if the guys got wind of that.
No. Don’t do that yet. I need to see them first. See if there’s anything there.
You haven’t seen them?
I got a glance at them. I didn’t get a chance to study them. A buddy of mine’s got them.
I told him the story. Of FitzGibbon. What I’d got from Kennedy, so far.
Wheels and wheels, he said, getting the metaphor slightly wrong.
That’s what I’m saying, I said. There’s so much stuff here to follow up on. But your guys don’t seem to see it. They’re still treating it like a bar fight or something.
Hey, Rick, give them some credit. They’re not trying to railroad the kid. It’s just that nothing substantive has come up that leads anywhere else.
I can’t say I’ve got anything substantive either. But there’s a lot of trails to follow. I don’t have the resources to follow them all.
Then stop telling me I can’t use the stuff you’re giving me.
I can’t do that yet. Shit, I know we’re in a tough situation here. Your interests aren’t necessarily mine, right? I mean, we both want to know the truth. But if the truth is what I hope it isn’t, I don’t want you to know that.
Jesus, Rick. Can I have an hour or two to untangle that sentence?
You know what I mean. I can’t just be letting your guys loose on stuff til I have a good sense of where it’s going. I’ve got to see that trust language, for starters.
Would your buddy let you have a peek?
I don’t want to ask him. I don’t want to put him in that position.
You’re a man of honor. But we knew that. So I guess at this point, the only thing you can hope for is that it mysteriously appears on your desk?
Right.
I see.
Anyway Butch, I really appreciate your talking to me. Taking a risk.
Nah. Don’t worry about me. I’m bulletproof.
I admired his confidence. But I wasn’t necessarily convinced. I had enough guilt already for one lifetime. If I got Butch fired, I didn’t know what I’d do.