The Boxer and the Spy

“You two are minors,” he said to Terry and Abby, “so we’d rather not question you without your parents here. But I’d like to have you hear Carter’s story, so when you have the proper adult supervision, you can comment on it.”

Terry nodded.

Abby said, “Yes sir.”

“But you,” Fogarty said to Kip, “are eighteen. We will be very happy to listen to what you got to say.”

“Sure,” Kip said.

Morris clicked on a tape recorder.

“I’m Detective William Morris of the Cabot Police Department. We are taking a statement, voluntarily given by Kippen L. Carter, age eighteen, of Cabot, Massachusetts, a student at William Dawes Regional High School. The interview is being conducted with me by State Police Detective Lieutenant Alan Fogarty at Cabot, Massachusetts, Police Headquarters.”

He gave the date and looked at Kip.

“You ready?” he said.

“Yes sir.”

“Tell us your story,” Fogarty said.

“Mr. Bullard, was, ah, a big football freak, you know? He was a big star in college and coulda gone pro but hurt his knee.”

“Where?” Fogarty said.

“Where?”

“Where’d he go to college?”

“Illinois.”

“University of?”

“Yes. He got me a scholarship there.”

Terry and Abby sat side by side in the interrogation room listening. Terry had his hands folded in his lap. Abby rested her hand on Terry’s forearm.

“And you were grateful,” Fogarty said.

“Yes sir,” Kip said. “He used to give us, the guys on the football team, the ones that were good, he used to give us steroids.”

“Can you name what he gave you?”

“Not really,” Kip said.

“Hard to remember,” Fogarty said. “We’ll come back to that later.”

“We won the state super bowl last fall,” Kip said.

“I’ll need the names of the other kids getting steroids from Bullard,” Fogarty said.

“Do I have to?” Kip said.

“ ’Fraid so, son,” Fogarty said. “It’s all out of the bottle now. There’s no stuffing it back in.”

Kip took in a deep breath.

“I gotta get through this,” he said. “Can I give you a list, after?”

“Sure,” Fogarty said.

“So one day he...”

“Bullard,” Fogarty said.

“Yeah, Mr. Bullard, he brings me in his office and he says to me, how he helped me out with the ’roids and how he got me the scholarship to Illinois. And I say yes, like, I’m very grateful. And he says that the school is building a house, you know, the technical arts guys, and he says they need a little supervision, and would I be his man on the project? And I say sure, what am I supposed to do, and he says it’s an experimental project and he doesn’t want it talked about yet, and I’m to make sure none of the kids working on the project asks a bunch of questions or talks about it to other people, you know?”

“And you agreed,” Fogarty said.

“Sure. It was easy, they were all scared of me...” Kip paused and looked at Terry. “Except him, I guess.”

“What was the experiment?” Fogarty said.

“I don’t think there was one. I think him and Mrs. Trent were building the houses and selling them and keeping the money.”

“Mrs. Trent the current candidate for governor,” Fogarty said.

“Yes.”

“Why did you think it’s a scam?” Fogarty said.

“Well, she was around a lot, and he was around a lot, and all the kids, me too, kept wondering what was going to happen to the house when it was done.”

“Were there other houses?”

“I guess so. Some of the older kids say there were,” Kip said.

“What happened to them?” Fogarty said.

“I don’t know. I don’t know even where they were built.”

“Why do you think Mrs. Trent was involved?”

“She was there with him a lot. And sometimes they would, ah, sort of paw each other when they thought no one saw them.”

“Who was the project supervisor?”

“Mr. Malcolm is head of the tech arts curriculum,” Kip said. “I guess it was him. He wasn’t around much. And the construction supervisor guys, they just knew about carpentry and wiring and stuff. Plus, you know, I was supposed to keep the kids from even asking.”

Fogarty nodded slowly. He looked at Morris.

Then he said, “And what about Jason Green?”