Thankless in Death (In Death #37)(68)

Mrs. Golde’s finger ticked between the two men. “You never told me that.”

“Ma, I can’t tell you everything.”

“Hah.” Her sniff was her opinion on that. “Jerry apologized to the Schumakers, sure, had no choice with his mother holding him by the ear and seeing he did. And when a rock went through Schumaker’s store window one night a couple weeks later, I know Jerry’s the one who threw it.”

“You don’t know that, Ma. And we weren’t there. I swore to you then, and I swear to you now, we didn’t do it.”

“I’m not saying you did. If I thought different, you still wouldn’t be sitting down easy. Barb knew it. She didn’t tell Carl, but she told me. Sitting back in the kitchen, and shedding some tears over it, too. Couldn’t make him say he did it, but she knew.”

“Is Schumaker’s still there?”

“Fifty-one years, same location. Frank and Maisy.”

Eve noted it down. “What I want from you is the names of anyone you can think of he has something against, he had trouble with, who he complained about. Going back. I don’t mean just recent problems.”

“I hope you’ve got a lot of time,” Mrs. Golde said, and helped herself to a sandwich bite. “Because that boy stacked up grudges like a kid with building blocks. I’d be one of them.”

“He’s not going to hurt you, Ma. I’d kill him first.” Mal’s face went fierce as he turned to Eve. “I mean it.”

“You’re a good boy.” Mrs. Golde patted his arm. “But I think this skinny policewoman and her friend with the Polish granny can take care of Jerry.”

“That’s just what we’re going to do,” Eve said. “We have his former employers, his coworkers, you and your families, and Joe Klein and his. Who else comes to mind? How about other ex-girlfriends?”

“Lori was the first one he lived with, was really in a serious deal with,” Mal began.

“There was Cindy McMahon,” Dave put in. “They dated pretty regular for a few months a couple years ago.”

“Is she in the neighborhood?” Eve asked.

“She was. She moved to East Washington just, I don’t know, like in June maybe?”

“She got a good job,” Mrs. Golde added. “A media job, writing news and such. She’s coming home for Christmas though. I talked to her ma.”

“I think he’ll stay local, for now.”

“There was Marlene Wizlet.”

“He never dated her,” Dave objected.

“He wanted to. She shut him down. That’s the kind of thing you mean, right?” Mal asked Eve.

“Yeah, it is. Do you have contact info?”

“I can get it. She lives Upper East, with some guy. She’s modeling. She’s really frosty, and Jerry had a thing for her. She wouldn’t give him the first look, and told him to screw off.”

They ran through a few others, right back to the sweaty days of puberty, with Mrs. Golde adding in the occasional parent, shopkeeper, older brother, younger sister.

She’d been right, Eve thought. A long list.

“How about teachers, instructors, coaches?”

“He was really piss—upset,” Mal corrected quickly, “with Coach Boyd. He was our Little League coach for three years. Jerry got picked off twice trying to steal bases after Coach told him not to, so Coach benched him for three games. Then we were in the championship game, and Coach told him to take the pitch—their guy threw a bunch outside, and he wanted him to try to take for a walk, but Jerry swung away, and struck out. We lost, and he blamed Coach. Wouldn’t play after that. Shit. Sorry, Ma. I just started realizing how many people he had a hard-on for. How many people didn’t do anything for it.”

“You’ve got a good streak of loyalty, Mal.” She handed him a cookie. “That’s nothing to apologize for.”

By the time they got to high school, the list of names hit unwieldy. Considering how to refine it, Eve took a cookie without thinking. “These are … amazing.”

Mrs. Golde preened. “Family recipe, and you have to be willing to spring for real sugar, and plenty. I’ll give you some to take.”

“Mr. Garber caught him cheating in Global Studies. He got suspended and grounded for it.”

Mal shrugged at Dave. “Yeah, but he didn’t really care. He said it was like hooky with permission.”

“Nobody likes getting caught cheating,” Eve put in, and noted the name down.

“Well, he was a lot more pissed, seriously pissed. Damn it, Ma, sorry.”

“You’re excused, considering the circumstances.”

“It was Ms. Farnsworth, Computer Science.”

“Oh yeah.” Dave nodded. “That burned his … chaps. He flunked. Truth is, though I said I was on his side back then, she gave him like six chances, even worked with him after school, but he didn’t care. He hated her. And when he flunked, he got grounded again, and worse, he had to go to summer school.”

“We ragged on him,” Mal added. “We really rubbed his face in it. Especially Joe. I know there were some instructors when he was in college, before he crapped out. But I don’t know who. I went to NYU, so we didn’t see each other much during the semester.”