Page 63 - Labelle Gramercy, On the Case
P. 63

Thrown for a Loss

        was in the bathroom when it happened, so he was asking us what was
        going  down  and  we  were  explaining  it  to  him.  I  remember  now,
        telling him some fool had pushed that button again.”
          “All  right, Cal.  Go back to the  table  and send  Newt over here.
        Thank you for your cooperation.”
          He popped up like he was spring-loaded and hustled over to his
        buddies.  If  I  had  to  go  by  their  excessively  emotional  answers  to
        simple  questions,  could  I  tell  if  any  one  them  was  lying?  Putting
        myself in their place might help, I thought. Let’s say I wanted to pull
        off this stunt and get away with it. Would I go it alone or get others
        involved, to provide me an alibi? Risks either way. The detective was
        letting them cook up whatever they wanted over in the food court.
        That  opened  the  possibility  of  collusion  after  the  fact,  of  group
        pressure  working on the weakest link to prevent him from spilling
        the  beans.  She  had  to  know  that,  and  was  using  it  in  some  way  I
        couldn’t understand.

        << 6 >>

          Newt sauntered up to us. It struck me how alike these kids were
        when you saw them together, but how different they could be when
        you took them out of their gang and dealt with them as individuals.
        This one was skinny, intense, a chip on his shoulder. His lips were
        tight and his eyes already narrowed with anger and suspicion.
          “Sit down, please.”
          He stood frozen in front of us, looking for the trap. I felt sorry for
        him, too. Life had not really put him in a cage, an animal in the zoo.
        At least that was how I saw it. Growing up meant seeing the limits
        for what they were, inevitable and actually quite useful in building a
        life. And they sure wouldn’t budge if you hit them head on over and
        over  again.  Newt  was  a  guy  who  would  become  fixated  on  some
        enemy, some obstacle to his freedom as he saw it during a difficult
        adolescence, and spend the rest of his days using it and anything else
        in his way as excuses for his problems.
          “Do I have to?”
          Labelle Gramercy locked him in her unblinking gaze. “The short
        answer is yes. The long answer is no, we can put you in custody and


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