Dad took Will Jenkins down to Lamb's office and he told the Sheriff what Woody Goodman had done. Lamb promptly went down to the Goodman mansion and rearrested him. I hoped he'd be doing a lot of that.
This time, Archie Boudreau couldn't get him bail, even in Neptune. '09er influence has its limits.
Mac and I went over her list the next day after school. Gia was once again absent. I could hardly blame her.
The only news I got during the day was that Richard Casablancas Sr. had been seen in Mexico, Kendall Casablancas had been caught in Reno, and that Little Dick was going to be allowed to finish out his school year at the private school he was currently attending, but that after that he was on his own.
(His own bank account? Also untouchable, but there wasn't that much money in there. Certainly not enough to keep him living in the style to which he'd become accustomed.)
There were 17 students on the list. Two I eliminated right away – they were girls, and pedophiles tend to stick to a type. Woody's type was 9-11 year old boys. Girls were safe around him.
I wondered about his own son. That was another reason to get the bastard off the streets as soon as possible.
Of the remaining 15, two hadn't been in Neptune before they were overaged, one was paraplegic (Goodman had never coached a wheelchair league; I checked), and one was Dick Casablancas, who somehow still had his access to the Neptune High boards.
("Given your history," Mac said, "Wouldn't you rather know what he's up to?" I conceded the point.)
That left 11.
Of those 11, four threw me out of the house when I brought up Woody Goodman. Three of the 7 who were left didn't throw me out, but they made it very clear that, while something had happened, they weren't willing to talk about it, to me or anyone. (I kept their names in reserve. Dad might be able to get somewhere, where I couldn't.)
The parents of one of the four remaining ran me out and started cursing at me in mixed Spanish and English when they overheard the conversation and started yelling at their son not to "embarrass" them like that. Whatever else one can say about Marcos Oliveres' parents, at the very least they were sticking by their son and weren't treating him like by coming forward he was somehow bringing shame to his family.
That left three, all of whom I took to see my father, who listened to them and promptly took them in to Don Lamb, who then arrested Woody on three more counts. Cliff and Larry Holtz then jointly publicly made a plea for any additional victims to step forward.
Note that I'm leaving a lot of the details out – it's not like I managed to get all of the above done in the span of a day, or even by the end of the week. I didn't get the third person in to see Dad till the following Tuesday.
By that point Archie Boudreau had resigned from his job as council to Woody Goodman, now that Woody had managed to obtain a shark from Los Angeles, who came in and started throwing around words like "witch hunt," "moneygrubbing," "incompetent local law enforcement," "benefit of the doubt," what this is doing to his family," and things like that.
I could hardly argue with Goodman's lawyer about the local law enforcement, even if Lamb seemed to be taking this more seriously than he'd ever taken anything in his life.
"Witch hunt" was SOP for someone in Goodman's circumstances, but until they started dragging him from his house to be burned at the stake in front of Java the Hut, all it was was empty rhetoric.
"Moneygrubbing?" I suppose to the extent that some of the kids clearly wanted compensation, but not a single one of them, from Peter to the last one I'd found, had dropped out in exchange for a mysterious cash payout, and while the attorney had indeed brought forth a couple of anonymous blackmail notes that Goodman had gotten since this all started, none of them had proven to be anything more than a couple of local yahoos out for a quick payout.
"Benefit of the doubt?" Also standard lawyer-speak. The concept of "innocent until proven guilty" is a terrific one, but it applies to actual courts of law, not courts of public opinion, and public opinion was not in his favor – so much so the venue was likely to have to be changed.
"What this is doing to his family" was that his wife had grabbed their son and taken off to "visit relatives" somewhere in parts unknown. Gia, on the other hand, was loyally sticking by her father, but she was almost the only significant person doing so.
That Sunday, we could have had a client. A woman walked in – rich woman named Julie something. She wanted us to do some research into her boyfriend, but under the circumstances, we really didn't have the time – even I didn't have the time. So we had to, reluctantly, point her towards another detective.
Not Vinnie Van Lowe. I have too much respect for, well, anyone short of Celeste Kane to pass them on to Vinnie.
That Tuesday, as I was taking my fourth and final find to Dad's office, a few things happened.
Kendall Casablancas was extradited back to Neptune, where she swore up down and sideways that the only reason she'd run is because she'd gotten a message from her husband telling her to get out of town.
Woody Goodman left the "mayoral" race, citing the need to defend himself against these spurious charges. His wife was back by his side. His son, pointedly, was not, and his wife looked like she was standing next to him because she'd be shot in the kneecaps if she moved.
Three, Weevil and the PCH'ers got into a full-scale brawl with the Fitzpatricks – and that's the kind of fight that they were going to lose, because unlike the Red Diamonds, the Fitzpatricks didn't have "fun brawls." At least not with other gangs, even ones that weren't exactly rivals.
I found this out when Weevil came to school on Wednesday looking like he'd just been on the wrong side of a fistfight with the Hulk. "What the hell?" I asked.
"Are you okay?" Meg asked.
"Do I look okay?"
"No," Meg said. "You look like you should be in the hospital."
"Been there, done that," he said. "Doc London took care of me personally last night."
"What happened?"
"Told you I was looking into why Thumper did what he did," he said. "Last night I found out. He'd been working an angle with the Fitzpatricks."
"What?" I said.
"Yeah. He was kind of setting the PCH'ers up to be the Fitzpatrick's flunkies in exchange for some extra cash. He killed Felix 'cause he wanted me distracted while he took over the gang."
Meg said, "That might not have been the only reason."
"What're you talking about?" Weevil asked.
"Felix and Molly Fitzpatrick," he said, speaking so low she was practically whispering, "had a thing."
"How do you know?"
"I could tell you I'd learned a lot from you, Ronniekins," she said, "But truth? Pure luck. I was running to do an interview for the TV show when I rounded the corner and saw them kissing. Even I knew that was Romeo and Juliet level of trouble, so I stepped back and dropped my binder, then picked it up and came around the corner again. Felix was coming towards me, Molly was going the other way."
She had learned something from me: not to be seen. She broke that up without making it obvious like a pro.
Weevil was shaking his head. "Man. He was really keeping that on the DL if me and you and the gossip queen of Neptune high didn't know anything about it."
"Yeah, that's a pretty tall order, but I can see why they did it," I said. "You think the Fitzpatricks could've specifically asked them to kill Felix because of this?"
"I can see the Fitzpatricks getting Felix killed for looking at Molly funny," he said. "All those pendejos see us as being good for is to do their grunt work. That's what they told me when I asked 'em – and that far as they were concerned Thumper'd been speaking for all of the PCH'ers and that it was about time we started living up to our end of the bargain. I told them where to stick their bargain, and that's when the fight started."
"Be careful," I said. "I like you alive."
"I like me alive, too," he said. "I still ain't looking for any help."
"If you need some, you know where to look," I said.
"Goes for me as well," Meg said. "Remember," and then she saw a couple of sentences in Spanish.
Weevil laughed, winced, and said, "Si. But it ain't like you blend."
Meg grinned evilly. "Exactly. Who expects me to know any Spanish at all? I'm just a rich blonde Anglo."
"True. Off chance I can think of something, I'll keep you in mind." He said something in Spanish, and walked away.
"You're not going to tell me what he said, are you?" I said as we headed to class.
"I like knowing more than you do about something, Ronniekins."
The fourth thing that happened over that time period involved my BFF – more specifically, his mother.
She came to the office that Wednesday, when Wallace and I were at school. I know this, because she was still there when I showed up that afternoon. "Mars for Sheriff" was meeting again that night and Dad had asked me to take care of some of the political paperwork – sorting checks, etc, and yes, we were still getting campaign contributions.
The backlash from the arrest of Woody Goodman had hurt Dad and helped Lamb, though Lamb had been true to his word and hadn't once brought it up himself in press conferences. He hadn't refrained from talking about it, or from doing some general campaigning, but on the subject of Woody Goodman he was curt and to the point.
Hell, he even mentioned that Dad had brought him the other victims. He didn't go out of his way to stress it, but he didn't pretend it was his own police work that had brought these people in, either.
I still don't think he'd changed. I just think this was finally something serious enough he wasn't willing to play games with it.
Anyway, I was talking about Alicia Fennel, not Deputy Lamb. I was just stepping in when I heard Alicia say, "Thanks, Keith," as she was walking out of the office door.
"Of course. Anything for you," Dad said. "Anything that doesn't involve a felony, that is."
"I just want to keep me and Wallace safe, you know? I don't know who this guy is, but I know he's not here for anything good." Wait, someone was bothering Wallace and his mom? Oh, hell no.
"I know. And after – after last spring, it's the least I can do."
"I never blamed you about that," she said. "You did the right thing. Not saying it made me happy, but –" What were they talking about?
What could they be talking about?
I didn't think I wanted the answer.
"Hold on," Dad said.
I finished stepping in. "Hi, Ms. Fennel!" I said, to preempt anything Dad might have been about to say about me eavesdropping. "Here to volunteer as a campaign worker?"
"Actually—" Dad said.
"We were just discussing a 'get-out-the-vote' effort," Ms. Fennel said. "See what we can do to get people to the polls. I'll get right on that, Keith. Thanks for the ideas."
"You're welcome," Dad said, bemusedly. "See you later, Alicia." When the door shut behind her, he turned to me. "How much did you hear?"
"Everything after 'he isn't here for anything good," I said, not exactly lying. "I'll say this much, though: She's not a very good liar."
"This is none of your business."
"Answer me two questions," I said. "One, this is a case, right?"
"Right," Dad said.
"And is someone harassing her or Wallace? Look. Wallace is my friend. If someone might be after him, I can least passively help by keeping my eyes open."
"Nothing active," Dad said.
"I swear. May I never again drink coffee if I'm lying."
He raised his eyebrows. "You're serious."
"As a stroke. Wallace is my friend. I don't like it when people go after my friends or their families."
"Okay, then. Keep your eyes open for anyone who seems to be spying on Wallace. But do nothing but look, and run. Got it?"
"Got it. In the meantime, what was that last thing you and Ms. Fennel were talking about?"
"What – oh. That is none of your business. At all. Understood?"
I said, "understood."
But – really? None of my business?
He don't know me vewy well, do he?
