This suited everyone.
“Let’s do it during lunch today. Where is the kid now?”
“At the hospital,” Ord said. “His brother will be there for an unspecified period of time. The mother is confined to the room. Mark just sort of roams about. Last night he stayed with his lawyer.”
“That sounds like Reggie,” Harry said with affection. “I see no need to take him into custody.”
Custody was very important to Fink and Foltrigg. They wanted the kid picked up, hauled away in a police car, placed in a cell of some sort, and in general frightened to the point of talking.
“Your Honor, if I may,” K.O. finally said. “We think custody is urgent.”
“Oh you do? I’m listening.”
McThune handed Judge Roosevelt a glossy eight by ten. Lewis handled the narration. “The man in the picture is Paul Gronke. He’s a thug from New Orleans, and a close associate of Barry Muldanno. He’s been in Memphis since Tuesday night. That photo was taken as he entered the airport in New Orleans. An hour later he was in Memphis, and unfortunately we lost him when he left the airport here.” McThune produced two smaller photos. “The guy with the dark shades is Mack Bono, a convicted murderer with strong mob ties in New Orleans. The guy in the suit is Gary Pirini, another Mafia thug who works for the Sulari family. Bono and Pirini arrived in Memphis last night. They didn’t come here to eat barbecued ribs.” He paused for dramatic effect. “The kid’s in serious danger, Your Honor. The family home is a house trailer in north Memphis, in a place called Tucker Wheel Estates.”
“I’m very familiar with the place,” Harry said, rubbing his eyes.
“About four hours ago, the trailer burned to the ground. The fire looks suspicious. We think it’s intimidation. The kid has been roaming at will since Monday night. There’s no father, and the mother cannot leave the younger son. It’s very sad, and it’s very dangerous.”
“So you’ve been watching him.”
“Yes sir. His lawyer asked the hospital to provide security guards outside the brother’s room.”
“And she called me,” Ord added. “She is very concerned about the kid’s safety, and asked me to request FBI protection at the hospital.”
“And we complied,” added McThune. “We’ve had at least two agents near the room for the past forty-eight hours. These guys are killers, Your Honor, and they’re taking orders from Muldanno. And the kid’s just roaming around oblivious to the danger.”
Harry listened to them carefully. It was a well-rehearsed full court press. By nature, he was suspicious of police and their kind, but this was not a routine case. “Our laws certainly provide for the child to be taken into custody after the petition is filed,” he said to no one in particular. “What happens to the kid if the hearing does not produce what you want, if the kid is in fact not obstructing justice?”
Lewis answered. “We’ve thought about this, Your Honor, and we would never do anything to violate the secrecy of your hearings. But, we have ways of getting word to these thugs that the kid knows nothing. Frankly, if he comes clean and knows nothing, the matter is closed and Muldanno’s boys will lose interest in him. Why should they threaten him if he knows nothing?”
“That makes sense,” Harry said. “But what do you do if the kid tells you what you want to hear. He’s a marked little boy at that point, don’t you think? If these guys are as dangerous as you say, then our little pal could be in serious trouble.”
“We’re making preliminary arrangements to place him in the witness protection program. All of them — Mark, his mother, and brother.”
“Have you discussed this with his attorney?”
“No sir,” Fink answered. “The last time we were in her office she refused to meet with us. She’s been difficult too.”
“Let me see your petition.”
Fink whipped it out and handed it to him. He carefully put on his reading glasses and studied it. When he finished, he handed it back to Fink.
“I don’t like this, gentlemen. I just don’t like the smell of it. I’ve seen a million cases, and never one involving a minor and a charge of obstructing justice. I have an uneasy feeling.”
“We’re desperate, Your Honor,” Lewis confessed with a great deal of sincerity. “We have to know what the kid knows, and we fear for his safety. This is all on the table. We’re not hiding anything, and we’re damned sure not trying to mislead you.”
“I certainly hope not.” Harry glared at them. He scribbled something on scratch paper. They waited and watched his every move. He glanced at his watch.
“I’ll sign the order. I want the kid taken directly to the Juvenile Wing and placed in a cell by himself. He’ll be scared to death, and I want him handled with velvet gloves. I’ll personally call his lawyer later in the morning.”
They stood in unison and thanked him. He pointed to the door, and they left quickly without handshakes or farewells.
21
Karen knocked lightly and entered the dark room with a basket of fruit. The card brought get-well messages from the congregation of Little Creek Baptist Church. The apples and bananas and grapes were wrapped in green cellophane, and looked pretty sitting next to a rather large and expensive arrangement of colorful flowers sent by the concerned friends at Ark-Lon Fixtures.
The shades were drawn, the television was off, and when Karen closed the door to leave, none of the Sways had moved. Ricky had changed position, and was now lying on his back with his feet on the pillows and his head on the blankets. He was awake, but for the last hour had been staring blankly at the ceiling without saying a word or moving an inch. This was something new. Mark and Dianne sat next to each other on the foldaway bed with their feet tucked under them and whispered about such things as clothing and toys and dishes. There was fire insurance, but Dianne didn’t know the extent of the coverage.
They spoke in hushed voices. It would be days or weeks before Ricky knew of the fire.
At some point in the morning, about an hour after Reggie and Clint left, the shock of the news wore off and Mark started thinking. It was easy to think in this dark room because there was nothing else to do. The television could be used only when Ricky wanted it. The shades remained closed if there was a chance he was sleeping. The door was always shut.
Mark had been sitting in a chair under the television, eating a stale chocolate chip cookie, when it occurred to him that maybe the fire was not an accident. Earlier, the man with the knife had somehow entered the trailer and found the portrait. His intent had been to wave the knife and wave the portrait, and forever silence little Mark Sway. And he had been most successful. What if the fire was just another reminder from the man with the switchblade? Trailers were easy to burn. The neighborhood was usually quiet at four in the morning. He knew this from experience.
This thought had stuck like a thick knot in his throat, and his mouth was suddenly dry. Dianne didn’t notice. She’d been sipping coffee and patting Ricky.
Mark had wrestled with it for a while, then had taken a short walk to the nurses’ station, where Karen showed him the morning paper.
The thought was so horrible, it seared itself into his mind, and after two hours of thinking about it he was convinced the fire was intentional.
“What will the insurance cover?” he asked.
“I’ll have to call the agent. There are two policies, if I remember correctly. One is paid by Mr. Tucker on the trailer, because he owns it, and the other is paid by us for the contents of the trailer. The monthly rent is supposed to include the premium for the insurance on the contents. I think that’s how it works.”