Cut to the Bone(34)

Mason shot him a look. The examiner smiled.

“Let’s see . . . AFIS . . . NICS . . .” Mason snapped his fingers. “NCIC.”

“National Crime Information Center,” the examiner said.

“Right. I’ll post this on NCIC. See if there’s anything about matches.”

“Why?” the examiner said.

“Something to do,” Mason said.

August 13, 1966

“It’s your constitutional right not to speak to us, Earl,” Detective Burr said. “Isn’t that so, Detective Rogan?”

“He’s not obliged to say a word,” Rogan agreed. “That new Miranda Warning says Earl can shut his piehole tight as he wants, and we can’t do a thing about it.”

Burr leaned so close that Earl smelled the Camels on his breath.

“Then again,” Burr said, “that Miranda fella isn’t exactly here, now is he?”

“Not that I can see,” Rogan said.

Burr put his elbow on the pulpiest bullet hole. Earl blanched white as Glue-All. His narrow eyes watered, and his flat nose ran.

“You’re gonna sing like a canary,” Rogan said, twisting Earl’s ear like a windup clock. “You’re gonna tell us where you got those hand grenades, and why you threw ‘em at our friends. Or you’re gonna hurt so bad you’ll wish you had died at that motel.”

“I miss him, Kit. I miss Andy so damn much,” Wayne Covington whispered.

“I know, honey, I know,” Katherine Covington cooed, stroking her husband’s broad, bent back. “We all do. Your brother was a wonderful man. A treasure.”

“He was everything good in this world. Everything holy. He didn’t deserve to die,” Wayne said, squeezing his pocket comb till the tines drew blood. “Not burned to death in a parking lot.”

“No,” she said, shuddering. “No.”

“Ma’s a wreck. She won’t eat. She can’t sleep. Pop can’t even talk about it. Keeps saying Andy’ll be over for breakfast Tuesday so he’d better pick more raspberries.”

“That poor man,” Kit said. “I’ll go over today, Wayne. See if I can help.”

“Earl Monroe blew my brother into snot,” Wayne said, breaking down. “I watched him do it, and I’ll see him burn for it. I will, Kit. I promise I will.”

“God bless you, darling,” Kit said, weeping openly herself. “God bless you for that.”

Earl screwed his eyes shut as the elbows ground into his wounds. It felt like that napalm they were dropping over in Vietnam. Those golden drips of fire that melted children’s eyes.

He concentrated on his brother’s face. If he was going to die here and now, at least their secret would die with him.

“We’ve got you cold, so you might as well talk,” Rogan said, expertly working Earl’s nerve endings. “Covington will testify that you, and nobody else, killed those cops and witness.”

“I . . . didn’t . . .”

“Covington wouldn’t lie. He’s Mister Clean,” Burr said. “Eagle Scout. Valedictorian. Varsity quarterback, married to the head cheerleader. Straight-As in law school. Secretary of the Junior Rotary. One of the sharpest young prosecutors this county’s ever produced. He comes from an old-line Naperville family that everybody adores. He’s made the front page of the paper more times than you’ve scratched your butt. He’s a somebody.”

“And what are you?” Rogan said. “A gangster who caters to degenerate gamblers. A miserable nobody with a dead gangster pa. Making you second-generation miserable nobody.”

Burr flicked Earl’s cheek with a fingernail. Earl flinched.

“Even Danny quit you,” Burr said. “Your own brother wants nothing to do with you anymore. Know why?” Flick. “‘Cause he’s smart.” Flick. “He knows to stay away. He knows if he hangs around you, he gets the contamination.” Flick. “Becomes a Frankenstein like you.”

“Didn’t . . . kill . . . anyone . . .”

“Go ahead, stick with that story. It’s working great for you,” Rogan jeered, lifting his fedora to blot his shiny brow. “Only two people survived that explosion. You and Covington. Who you think the jury’s going to believe? Worm Dung Earl, or Eagle Scout Wayne?”

“Face it, pally, it’s over for you but the frying,” Burr said. “You got nothing to lose by confessing. Save us the time and effort, and you a bunch of pain. Whaddaya say?”

Earl gathered his strength, sucked in a breath.

“If Covington’s got me so tight,” he wheezed. “Then why you two assholes wasting my time?”