The Man Who Came Uptown
- Автор: Пелеканос Джордж
- Год: 2018
- Язык: английский
- Год: Mulholland Books / Little, Brown and Company
- ISBN: 978-0-316-47982-0
- Жанр: Криминальные детективы
Электронная книга - «The Man Who Came Uptown». Краткое содержание книги:
“Some close friends there too?”
“A couple.”
“Do you think I could speak to them?”
“I don’t know.”
“Are they girls?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay. What about the people you didn’t know? Can you describe them or name any of them?”
“No, I can’t name them. I’m not holding anything back. I just don’t know their names.”
“Describe them.”
Lisa dragged on her cigarette and casually ashed her jeans. “These two guys came up from D.C. They told some of my friends that they went to Woodson, wherever that is.”
“It’s a public high school in Northeast. Did they cause the trouble?”
“They seemed all right. I don’t know. They found out about the party on Facebook, and I think they just came to try to talk to some white girls. The guys from my school were more intimidated by them than the girls were.”
“You say you don’t know if they were all right.”
“The night for me was split into two parts,” said Lisa. “The part I remember and the part that’s totally blacked out. It was like, I don’t know...”
“You were drugged.”
“The doctor said I was. So I didn’t see any of the bad stuff that happened. I didn’t see the house getting trashed or anyone stealing anything. That was toward the end of the night. I was out of it by then.”
“Let’s go back to what you remember. Tell me more about the kids you didn’t know.”
“Well, there were some guys from the private schools. They go to, like, Landon and Bullis. I’ve seen them around at Montgomery Mall and other parties. Most of them don’t live in this neighborhood. They’re from, like, Bethesda and maybe from the good parts of D.C.”
“You don’t know their names either.”
“No.”
Ornazian couldn’t ascertain if Lisa was lying. Pressing her would probably shut her down. He was getting information that was helpful, so he kept the interview on the nonconfrontational track.
He said, “Who else?”
“There were these older guys who showed up.”
“How much older?”
“In their twenties?”
“Did you know them?”
“Never seen them before that night,” said Lisa. “They came in with the purple drink.”
“Describe them.”
“I don’t know. White guys, and all of them were kinda tall. They were pretty jacked. They had ink and one of them had that haircut. You know, the way the guys wear their hair in, like, Brooklyn and stuff? Kinda shaved on the sides and long on top?”
“These older dudes brought the Lean?”
“Yeah, they were carrying it in a cardboard case, like a case of beer. The bottles had labels on them, the kind you’d get at a pharmacy. They were selling it to the kids.”
“So people were getting messed up on the drink. What else were they doing?”
“Like, drugs?”
“Yeah.”
“The usual. Smoking weed, drinking. Doing molly...”
“Licking it off their fingers?”
She shook her head. “Molly water. We mix a little in water now and drink it.”
“Were you doing molly that night?”
“No, I don’t like it. I smoked some tree and drank some Lean, and that’s it. I’m saying, I sipped some Drank and that’s the last thing I remember.”
“Drank?”
“It’s what we call it.”
“I’m kidding you.”
“Anyway. When I woke up, it was like four in the morning. Everyone was pretty much gone.”
Ornazian had been writing but now he rested his pen. Lisa was smoking down her cigarette and looking away. Outwardly, she didn’t seem too damaged. She was putting on a game face. But he had her attention, and despite his promise to Weitzman, he had to ask.
“Lisa, do you know who assaulted you?”
“No.”
“Was it the older guys who crashed the party?”
“I don’t know.”
“Your friends must know. Some of your friends must know who trashed your parents’ house and stole their valuables.”
“They won’t talk to you. They don’t want to get involved. They don’t want their parents to know what they were doing.”
“Don’t they want to help us find the guys who did this to you?”
“Look, I’m sorry for what happened to the house,” said Lisa. “I’m sorry we got robbed. I really feel bad about what it did to my parents, and I told them so. But I’m fine. Really. I’m fine.”
“Okay. Do me one favor. Friend me on Facebook. Help me out here. Give me a chance to retrieve your mom’s jewelry.”
Lisa lit a fresh cigarette off the one that was burning down and then crushed the butt under her shoe. “Gimme your phone.”
Ornazian opened the Facebook app on his iPhone, went to his home page, and handed the phone over to Lisa.
“Put your contact information in there too,” said Ornazian.
She produced her own cell and deftly executed the friend exchange, squinting against the smoke that was rising up off the cigarette dangling from her mouth. She then entered her contact info into Ornazian’s phone and handed it back to him.
“I appreciate you talking to me,” said Ornazian. “I know it must be rough.”
Lisa held out her pack of American Spirits to Ornazian. Ornazian waved the offer away.
“You don’t want one?”
“I gave it up a long time ago.”
“These aren’t as bad for you as regular cigarettes.”
“They’re all bad for you.”
He stood up and shook her hand firmly. She seemed surprised by the adult gesture, and somewhat pleased.
“Thank you,” said Ornazian. “If you remember anything else or if one of your friends wants to come forward... or if, you know, you just want to talk... give me a call.”
“Please don’t bother my friends,” said Lisa.
“Don’t worry,” he said, and he walked back toward the house.
By the front door, Leonard Weitzman handed Ornazian an envelope containing one thousand dollars in cash. Ornazian slipped it into the manila folder containing the list of stolen items and the photographs.
“How did you find Lisa?” said Weitzman.
“She seems pretty strong.”
“I don’t think anything like this will happen again. She made a big mistake putting this on Facebook. She knows it.”
Ornazian knew that Facebook had become the social media platform for middle-aged users, the elderly, and others who were settled in life. Teenagers generally used more secure and secretive platforms to communicate. By using Facebook to announce the party, Lisa had wanted the news to get out to lurkers and strangers. She was being adventurous, but not devious. She couldn’t have anticipated what would happen that night.
“Do you need anything else from me?” said Weitzman.
“I’ve got enough to start.”
“Ornazian... what is that, Middle Eastern?”
“Near East. I’m of Armenian descent. My great-grandparents fled the genocide. The one the Turks claim didn’t happen.”
“We have something in common,” said Weitzman. “My mother is a Holocaust survivor. She was a teenager in the camps. My father was army infantry. At the end of the war, he liberated her. I was the youngest of their four children. My mother is still alive. Now she has eight grandchildren and several great-grandchildren. It’s quite a story, isn’t it?”
“It’s the American story.”
“I have your contact information,” said Weitzman.
“And I have yours,” said Ornazian. “I’ll stay in touch.”