The Boxer and the Spy
- Автор: Паркер Роберт Браун
- Год: 2008
- Язык: английский
- Год: Philomel Books
- ISBN: 978-0-399-24775-0
- Жанр: Другие детективы
Электронная книга - «The Boxer and the Spy». Краткое содержание книги:
Friends of his mother and father came and went, saying awkward things about sorrow mostly to his mother. Some of the men shook his hand; some of the women patted him on the shoulder. There were no kids. Kids didn’t go to wakes much. The people who worked in the funeral parlor were hovering around, guiding people to the guest book, looking sad. He hated them; they seemed phony to him. They didn’t even know his father.
Then there was a kid, by himself, Jason Green, wearing a suit coat and tie. He walked past the funeral parlor man at the door, who looked at him as if he didn’t belong, and came straight up to Terry.
“Hi,” he said. “I wanted to tell you something.”
Terry said, “Thanks for coming,” as he had already said two dozen times. It was what his mother had told him to say. He too had on a coat and tie. It seemed odd to him.
“My father died when I was ten,” Jason said. “After a while you won’t feel so bad as you do now.”
Terry nodded.
“You’ll get used to it,” Jason said.
Terry nodded again.
“I just wanted you to know,” Jason said.
“Thank you,” Terry said. “Thanks for coming.”
Chapter 9
Seated behind his desk in his office, Mr. Bullard looked even bigger than when he was walking around. Mr. Bullard nodded Terry to a seat across from him and sat silently looking at him. He had his suit coat off and his sleeves rolled and his arms folded across his chest. His forearms were huge.
Like Popeye, Terry thought.
“You wanted to see me?” Terry said.
Bullard nodded silently. Terry waited.
“You went to the nurse yesterday,” Bullard said after a time. “Without a slip.”
Terry started to say yes sir, but stopped.
“Yes,” he said.
“Do you know the school regulations?” Bullard said.
“Yes.”
“Then you know that unauthorized visits to the school nurse are prohibited.”
“I just wanted to ask her some questions,” Terry said.
“About steroids,” Bullard said.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I’m just trying to figure out what happened to Jason,” Terry said.
“Jason Green,” Bullard said.
He remained motionless, sitting massively with his arms folded.
Trying to intimidate, Terry thought.
“Yes.”
“And you are not happy with the official explanation?” Bullard said.
“I don’t think Jason would take steroids,” Terry said.
“There were traces in his system,” Bullard said.
“But even if there were,” Terry said, “would it make him crazy enough to kill himself?”
“Apparently,” Bullard said.
Terry felt his stomach tighten. His throat felt tight. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
“I don’t believe it,” Terry said.
Bullard unfolded his arms and leaned forward in his chair and rested his thick hands on his desktop.
“You don’t believe it,” Bullard said.
“No.”
“And you’re an expert in these matters,” Bullard said.
Keep your feet under you, Terry said to himself. Keep your form.
“I’m trying to learn,” Terry said.
Bullard drummed softly on the desktop with his fingers. Terry waited.
Okay, keep your jab working, he thought. Don’t let him swarm you.
“Mr. Novak,” Bullard said.
Terry waited.
“Mr. Novak,” Bullard said again. “How old are you?”
“Fifteen.”
“Fifteen,” Bullard said, and shook his head.
Terry was quiet. Bullard drummed his fingertips some more.
“I will not try to explain all of this to you,” Bullard said after a time. “There is too much that you don’t know Let me just say this is an adult problem being tended to by adults. I do not want you to have anything further to do with it.”
“I liked Jason,” Terry said.
“We all liked him,” Bullard said. “His death is tragic. And that is precisely why we do not wish to cause his mother more grief.”
Terry didn’t know what to say to that. He was quiet.
“I want you out of it,” Bullard said. “Do you understand?”
Terry nodded.
“I understand what you want,” Terry said.
Bullard slammed the palm of one hand on the desktop.
“And you’ll do it,” Bullard said. “You’ll stop poking your dumb fifteen-year-old nose into things you don’t understand, or you’ll have more trouble from me than you can imagine.”
Jab, Terry thought. Fight smart. Jab and cover.
“Yes sir,” he said.
Bullard pointed a thick forefinger at Terry.
“Behave yourself. I do not wish to have to take disciplinary steps.”
“Yes sir,” Terry said.
“You better believe it,” Bullard said.
“Yes sir, I do,” Terry said.
“All right,” Bullard said. “Now get out of here.”
“Yes sir,” Terry said. “Thank you sir.”
Chapter 10
“I guess you were Jason Green’s best friend,” Terry said to Nancy Fortin. “Weren’t you?”
She shrugged.
“Tell me about him,” Terry said.
“You knew him,” Nancy said. “What’s to tell?”
Nancy was a square-built girl, strong looking, with short black hair. She was in the technical arts curriculum, where Jason had been.
“I didn’t know him well,” Terry said. “He seemed like a nice kid.”
“He was. Lot of people dumped on him, though. He didn’t play sports or anything.”
“Lot of people thought he was gay,” Terry said.
“You?”
“Yeah, I guess I thought so.”
“But you didn’t care.”
“No.”
“I don’t know if he was gay or not,” Nancy said. “He liked to draw and stuff. He was studying landscape design.”
“He wanted to be a gardener, right?”
“Not a gardener,” Nancy said. “A landscape designer. There’s a difference.”
“Oh,” Terry said. “That why he’s in the tech arts curriculum?”
“Yeah,” Nancy said. “I guess. Why wouldn’t he be?”
“Didn’t seem the type,” Terry said.
“We’re not all stupid,” Nancy said.
“I didn’t say you were,” Terry said. “I just figured Jason more for writing poetry and stuff.”
“I guess you figured wrong,” Nancy said.
“I do that a lot,” Terry said. “What are you studying?”
“Culinary arts,” Nancy said.
“Going to be a chef?”
Nancy nodded.
“Not a cook,” she said.
Terry nodded.
“You think Jason killed himself?”
“I guess so,” Nancy said. “Everybody says he did.”
“But would he?” Terry said. “I mean you knew him really well. Would he kill himself?”
“How do I know?” Nancy said.
Nancy always had a tough sound in her voice, Terry thought, like she was mad about something.
“You were his best friend,” Terry said.
She shrugged. Terry could tell she didn’t like talking about this.
“His father’s dead,” Nancy said.
“I know,” Terry said.
“His mother was kind of a problem.”
“Why?”
“She got drunk all the time,” Nancy said.