The Evil That Men Do Read online

  “What is it?”

  “It was like half buried in the mud and sticking out, so I picked it up. I ain’t gonna use it or nothing. I just thought, yo, I should bring this shit to the cops.”

  The cop stopped shuffling his papers. “What is it?”

  Carlos reached under his jersey and pulled out the gun. He didn’t hold it like he was gonna shoot it or nothing. Held it from the barrel. He didn’t want the cop to wile out or nothing. So he held the gun at arm’s length like a bag of dog shit.

  Still, the cop’s eyes widened and his hand immediately went to his own holster.

  “Jesus Christ,” the cop said.

  At that moment, Carlos got pissed he was giving the thing back. He just scared a fuckin’ cop.

  Now, that was really gangsta.

  ***

  Iapicca showed up at the front of the hospital as Donne was being pushed through the doors in a wheelchair. The sunlight forced him to squint and aggravated the dull roar in his head. The doctor—a very perceptive asshole in a lab coat—prescribed Tylenol. Donne could have done that. He was going to have to bill his hospital stay to Franklin Carter. It sucked being without insurance.

  Iapicca sported a tie, a white-collared shirt, and sweat stains under his armpits. A line of sweat glistened on his forehead. He looked miserable.

  He must have noticed Donne eyeing him up, and he said, “Yeah, it’s fucking hot. I left my coat in the car. Let’s go.”

  Donne unfolded himself from the wheelchair, thanked the nurse who’d pushed him, and followed Iapicca into the parking lot.

  His car was an unmarked Chevy Caprice. It smelled like cigarettes and rotten french fries.

  “I didn’t even know they made these cars anymore.”

  “Rutherford Police Department. Only the finest.” Iapicca started the car and pulled into traffic.

  Checking his cell phone, Donne saw he had three voice mails. He dialed his mailbox.

  “What are you doing?” Iapicca asked.

  “I have a few missed calls. I was in the hospital all night. They kept my cell phone from me.”

  “I asked them to do that.”

  “Why?”

  “Before we were rudely interrupted by your nurse last night, I was going to check your calls. You got lucky.”

  “Well, I have missed calls to check.”

  “You’re not checking them now.”

  “Why not?”

  He stopped for a red light.

  “The only reason I agreed to drive you was so we could talk about what happened the other day.”

  “We have an hour drive ahead of us. I think you can wait a few minutes.”

  The detective started to reply, but his own cell phone rang. His ring tone was some Sinatra song. He took it out and looked at the caller ID.

  “Sinatra? You’re like, what? Thirty-two?”

  “Thirty-three, and you don’t have to be old to enjoy the Chairman.”

  “Thirty-three is old.”

  “You’re an asshole. And you’re only five years behind me. I have to take this, so go ahead. Check your goddamned voice mails.”

  The first message was Donne’s sister asking him to call her back. There was a tension in her voice, something underlying that worried him. Next to Donne Iapicca was talking, but it wasn’t clear what he was saying.

  The next message was Susan again. She sounded even more upset. The time stamp on the message showed it was only a few seconds after the first call.

  The third message she was practically screaming into the phone. Something was definitely wrong. And not hearing from Donne was adding to her stress. She was worried about him. And now he was worried about her.

  Somewhere deep in the recesses of his mind, he realized that before this week he hadn’t been worried about a family member in a long time.

  He hung up the phone and turned to Iapicca. The cop’s eyes were on the road as he flipped his own cell phone closed.

  “Forget New Brunswick,” Donne said. “Can you take me to Upper Mountain Road? Something’s wrong with my sister.”

  “No can do. You’re coming with me.”

  “What?”

  “That was a call from a cop I know in Clifton. He said they have the gun.”

  “What gun?”

  “They think it’s the one that killed your aunt and uncle.”

  Jesus Christ.

  “I have to call my sister.”

  “Do what you gotta do. It’s ten minutes to Clifton, easy.”

  Iapicca reached under the seat of his car and pulled out a red light. He plugged it into the cigarette lighter and it started to flash. Then he rolled his window down and stuck the light to the roof.

  He blew through the intersection.

  Chapter 16

  Susan opened her eyes and the world came into focus. She saw clouds, the sun shining, and felt the heat on her face. She could still hear the traffic and knew the world was still moving around her. The nurse who had helped her mother stood above Susan with a clear bottle. Susan wondered if the nurse had gone back inside to get it. How long had she been out? It couldn’t have been too long. They wouldn’t have just left her out in the street.

  “Sit up,” the nurse said. “Have a sip of water.”

  Susan felt her stomach give out. She turned her head and threw up. Vomit splattered on her clothes. She really felt the summer heat as she puked. Along with the embarrassment of getting sick in front of the nurse. By the time she was finished, her throat was raw and her mouth tasted sour.

  The nurse gave her a sympathetic smile.

  “Okay,” she said. “Now try some water.”

  Susan took the bottle of Poland Spring the nurse offered. For the first time, Susan saw the nurse’s name tag. It said, “Bernadette.”

  After sipping the water, feeling the cool liquid wash the taste from her mouth and moisten her throat, Susan said, “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” Bernadette took Susan’s hand and helped her to her feet. “Let’s get you inside into the air-conditioning.”

  They walked along together and Bernadette said, “Are you going to be okay? I know it’s hard watching your mom be sick.”

  “It’s not only that,” Susan said. She stopped and looked around at the ground. “Did you see my cell phone?”

  Bernadette held it up. In two pieces.

  Susan quickly took the pieces and tried to fit it back together. No luck. Jesus Christ. What if Jackson had tried to call? Or the people who had her husband?

  She felt light-headed again, and Bernadette saw it. She put her arm around Susan and held her up. Kept walking.

  “Come on,” the nurse said. “Keep moving. Keep the blood flowing, you’ll be fine. Let’s just get inside.”

  Everything was going wrong. And Susan couldn’t do anything to stop it.

  ***

  Getting to the Clifton Police Department wasn’t very complicated. Iapicca made only one right turn once he found Valley Road. They followed Valley to Van Houten, passing a strip mall, two schools, a Charlie Brown’s, some houses, and an intersection that took seven minutes to get through because of construction. The entire way, Donne kept trying Susan’s phone.

  No answer.

  His instincts didn’t like whatever that meant.

  “How the hell do you know where the Clifton Police Department is?” Donne asked. “It’s not even marked.”

  “I have some family in Clifton.”

  The department was located inside Clifton City Hall, a long brick building with three glass doors in the middle. They walked through the doors, and Iapicca turned toward Donne.

  “The only reason you’re coming along is because I’m starting to believe your story. Anything doesn’t line up with what you’ve already said, you’ll find a different way home.”

  “I haven’t said much of anything yet.” “Keep it that way. I don’t need a headache.”

  They followed a long dark tiled hallway through a narrow doorway into a bright whi
te waiting room. On the walls were various framed pictures of successful Cliftonites. The high school marching band seemed to have some kind of reputation, because the picture of it filled the biggest frame. Along the far wall was a windowed counter and another doorway. Behind the counter, a uniformed cop watched them.

  “Wait here,” Iapicca said.

  Donne took a seat on a plastic chair and looked at the brochures on the table in front of him. Most of them regarded sexually transmitted diseases. He felt more like he was in a doctor’s office than anything else.

  Iapicca was bullshitting with the cop behind the glass. They both laughed at some joke Donne didn’t hear. He checked his watch and worried some more about Susan.

  A buzzer sounded and Iapicca pushed the door next to the window open. He turned his head toward Donne.

  “Come on, tough guy,” he said.

  Donne followed him into the back office. It looked pretty much like any office you see on TV. Brightly painted walls, and cubicles. The only difference was that the guys in the cubicles were in cop uniforms. And the box of doughnuts by the coffee machine was empty.

  At the back of the office, a kid in a LeBron James jersey about six sizes too big for him, baggy jeans, and untied Timberlands sat looking pissed off. A plainclothes detective, jacket off, leaned on his desk watching him. Neither spoke until the detective noticed Donne and Iapicca.

  “You look like a Rutherford cop. Greasy as hell,” the detective said to Iapicca.

  “And you’re doing an impression of a police force in this town? Christ, do you even have a jail back here?” Iapicca shook the Clifton detective’s hand. “How you doin’, Krewer? This here is Jackson Donne. He’s a private detective. Or at least used to be.”

  Iapicca gave him a look, and Donne realized he’d done a little research on him.

  “A PI?” Krewer took Donne’s hand. “Is that why he’s all bruised?” Cops are such cutups.

  “Nice to meet you,” he said.

  Krewer turned from Donne and waved his hand in Carlos’s direction. “And this here is Carlos. He found a gun. Didn’t you, Carlos?”

  “Fuck you. I ain’t gotta stay for this.”

  Krewer smiled. “Yeah, you kinda do. Otherwise we’ll talk to Juvie. You’ve been holding on to a gun for a few days. Not supposed to do that.”

  “Yo, I just found that shit three hours ago.” Carlos puffed out his chest and looked at them. “Who are these fucks?”

  Krewer ignored Donne and pointed toward his chauffeur for the day. “This is Detective Iapicca from Rutherford. He’d like to ask you a few questions.”

  “Why I gotta answer more questions? This ain’t school. Take the gun. I gotta go home.” Carlos folded his arms in front of him. “Fuckin’ cops.”

  “Whoa, he’s been brought up well, hasn’t he?” Iapicca said, and laughed.

  “Yo, fuck you,” Carlos said. “This ain’t your town.”

  Donne leaned against a desk across from the trio, deciding to watch and keep his mouth shut like Iapicca had advised. The way this kid was spouting off, the conversation that was about to happen would no doubt be entertaining.

  “Make it quick,” Krewer said. “I got tickets to see Brian Wilson tonight at Radio City.”

  “After all the shit that’s gone on, you’re gonna go into the city?”

  “Dude, the city’s the safest place to be right now. Cops are everywhere. And he’s gonna do all of Pet Sounds. So get this over with.”

  “Listen, kid,” Iapicca said, putting his hand on the kid’s shoulder, “we just need to ask a few more and then you can go home.” Carlos shrugged violently. “Don’t touch me. You ain’t my father.”

  “All right, all right. Calm down. How’d you get the gun?”

  “I already told the other one.”

  “Uh-huh. And now you’re gonna tell me.” Iapicca’s voice was no longer playful. There was a tension to it, commanding. Definitely a cop’s voice.

  Carlos let out a long sigh, flared his nostrils, and leaned back in the chair. Completely defiant. But at the same time, he answered.

  “I found it down by the Passaic River. Down by Delawanna. In that park over there.”

  “It was just lying there?”

  “Nah, yo. Some gangsta threw it out his car window.”

  “Oh really?” Iapicca leaned forward. “What did this ‘gangsta’ look like?”

  “I don’t know. He was black. That’s all I saw.”

  “What kind of car did he drive?”

  Even Donne noticed Carlos’s eyes light up. “Yo, that car was hot. It was like a black Cadillac Escalade, all pimped out. Shiny, and you shoulda seen the rims. Man, those shits were spinning the opposite way of the wheels. And he was thumpin’ some Akon on the radio. You could hear the bass, man. That shit was hot.”

  “And you watched him throw the gun right out the window.”

  “Well, he didn’t like throw it. He just kinda dropped it. I think he thought it would roll into the river, but he didn’t know how muddy the ground was. Didn’t even get out the car to check. Drove off like a motherfucker. Too bad, too. I wanted to hear more from the radio. I think he had on Hot Ninety-seven.”

  Carlos’s legs were both bouncing up and down, and his eyes weren’t focused. They rolled from side to side. He looked like he was about to jump up and run off.

  “So then what?”

  “After he drove away, I went over to see what he dropped. And it was all stuck in the mud and shit, the gun. So I picked it up and thought, you know, some kid might find it.”

  “Like you?”

  “Nah, I ain’t no kid, yo. I’m thirteen.” Carlos sucked his teeth. “I mean, like a little kid.”

  “I see. And when was this?”

  “I don’t know, this morning?”

  Krewer jumped in. “Right. That’s why we had reports of some kid shooting in the bushes over by Rutt’s Hut yesterday.”

  Carlos didn’t say anything. If the cops were any good at their job, they both saw the answer in Carlos’s eyes—Donne knew he did. But at the same time, the kid was smart. He didn’t say anything that could get him in any more trouble.

  “I’m just trying to do something right,” Carlos said finally.

  “All right, kid,” Iapicca said. “Did Detective Krewer get your information?”

  “Yeah. I gave him my shit.”

  “Good. You answered all the questions I have.”

  For right now, Donne thought.

  “That’s it? Nigga, I told him all that shit already. Waste my fucking time.”

  Iapicca turned to Krewer. “You tracing the gun?”

  “Of course.”

  “Let me know.”

  Iapicca turned back toward Donne and signaled it was time to go. “Enjoy the concert, Krewer,” he said as they exited.

  ***

  Franklin Carter blinked the sweat out of his eyes and felt it trickle across the cuts on his face. It burned like hell. And all he wanted to do was stand, but his arms were still strapped to the wooden chair.

  Bryan Hackett stood before him, frowning, cell phone against his ear. The belt hung limply from his left hand.

  After the beating, Hackett had reached above his head and clicked on a dim lightbulb. It didn’t do much, but Carter could at least see more of his surroundings.

  Not that there was anything to see. It looked as if the place had been emptied out. The light illuminated a slop sink with a drippy faucet catty-corner from the stairs. The rest of the basement was empty except for a few pieces of rotted wood that lay on the ground.

  Somehow, the dim light was comforting. He wanted to stay near it, stay where it was.

  His mind traveled back, and he remembered lyrics from one of the John Mayer tunes. Something about staying where the light was. He wished that was all he had to worry about now. Kate and her fucking poor taste in music.

  Hackett put the phone down and shook his head. “This is not good,” he said.

  “What?”
/>   “Jesus. I’m surprised you’re still able to talk.” Hackett took a step toward him. “Your wife, she’s not answering the phone.”

  Hackett took another step forward, this time letting the belt buckle scratch along the ground.

  “Susan,” Carter said.

  Why isn’t she answering the phone? There had to be something wrong. She loved him. Something must have happened.

  “Her phone isn’t even on. It’s going straight to voice mail.”

  “I don’t know. I don’t know why.”

  “Yeah, why’s not the problem here. The problem is I can’t get anything accomplished if she doesn’t answer her phone.”

  Something broke inside Franklin Carter. A well of emotion that he’d done his best to bury the past few days. Tears flowed from his eyes and a wail escaped his lips. He wasn’t a strong man, and Franklin wasn’t even sure if a strong man could deal with this.

  “Oh, stop being a bitch,” Hackett said. He picked up the cell phone. “Here, if it makes you feel better, I’ll try one more time.”

  He started to dial.

  Carter let his head hang limp. Snot bubbled from his nose and he couldn’t even wipe it away. He came from one of the richest, most respected families in New Jersey and he’d been reduced to a bawling child by this mick. The thought made him cry even more.

  “Susan,” he said. “Susan, please pick up.” Hackett pressed the phone to Carter’s ear.

  “—can’t get to the phone right now, so leave a—”

  “Jesus Christ,” Carter said.

  “Yeah, this does not bode well for me,” Hackett said. “Not at all.”

  Franklin didn’t look up, but he could hear the belt cut through the air again. Felt the impact against his temple and then more searing pain.

  “And,” Bryan Hackett’s voice was like steel, quiet and cold, “if it doesn’t bode well for me, then it sure as hell isn’t good news for you.” Franklin Carter squeezed his eyes shut tight as he heard the familiar whizzing sound in the air again.

  Chapter 17

  Iapicca dropped Donne off in front of his sister’s on Upper Mountain. After knocking and ringing the doorbell to no effect, he decided to hoof it to Carter’s. It was about a fifteen-minute walk. During the trip, he took the time to try Susan. No answer. He tried Franklin and got the same result.