Locust Lane(39)
“Try to be a little more specific.”
“He pushes Christopher around. The way he talks to him, the way he teases him. It’s not good.”
Cantor wrote something down on his pad.
“Okay, going back to last night. Christopher said he left after Hannah and Jack.”
“Right.”
“And did he specify what happened during the time he was alone with the victim?”
The victim, Michel thought.
“He said they just spoke.”
“About?”
“Christopher liked her. Romantically. She didn’t return his affection.”
“Okay. Anything else I need to know?”
“There were scratches on his neck.”
Cantor pursed his lips and watched him for a moment.
“Scratches?”
Michel formed his hand into a claw and indicated where they had been on his own neck.
“Did he say how he got those?”
“He said he must have given them to himself.”
“To himself.”
Michel nodded.
“And you knew nothing about his relationship with Eden Perry?”
“I suspected he was interested in a girl, but he was very secretive about it.”
“Why do you think that was?”
“He’s seventeen?”
“So, Michel, is there anything I’m going to need to know about Christopher, going forward?”
“What do you mean?”
“Arrests. Bad habits. He punched a guy in a bar.”
Michel laughed quietly.
“What?” Cantor asked.
“You’ll see when you meet him.”
“I’ll take that as a no.”
The first reporter knocked at that point. Cantor nodded with approval after Michel shut the door, telling him he’d handled it just right. Give them nothing, but give it politely. He also explained that he should expect Christopher’s name to be on social media soon, if it wasn’t already.
“Well, then, people will see how ridiculous this is. Anybody who knows my son will understand this is a huge mistake.”
“Michel, let me explain something to you. A white girl just got killed in a three-million-dollar house in a place where there’s one murder a decade. Somebody’s going to have to be guilty of this, and quickly. The only mysteries these people allow are the ones they control.”
“These people?”
“The ones you serve dinner to.”
There was silence.
“Okay, I better get over there and talk to your boy.”
“What can I do?”
“Sit tight and don’t talk to anybody, and that includes friends and relatives. Oh, and a woman named Courtney will be calling about money. We’re going to need that wired as soon as possible.”
“How much?”
“Ten thousand. Obviously, if they don’t charge your son, you’ll be getting most of that back.”
Michel almost asked him what would happen if they did charge him, but he didn’t have the heart for the answer.
“Do you think they might release him tonight?”
“That’s what I’m going for, but it’s unlikely if they’ve got him on a forty-eight-hour hold. I’ll file a petition with the court first thing in the morning, though judges don’t like to overrule cops at this point in a proceeding.”
After he left, there was nothing to do but draw the curtains and pace. Reporters kept him busy at the door. The woman phoned and they took care of the money. Sofia called and he told her that he liked David. And then he was alone with this terrible new reality.
His conversation with Cantor got him thinking about his son’s friendship with Jack Parrish. Michel had never liked the kid. He didn’t appreciate the way he talked down to Christopher, the way he bossed him around. Although his son’s English was excellent, he still sometimes made small mistakes—a vowel softened, a verb tense shifted—and Jack would pounce mercilessly, no matter who else was present. When they horsed around, Jack often took it a step too far. There was a bloody nose; there were bruises. All coming with an innocent explanation. Michel knew what was happening. Christopher, the newcomer, was drawn to Jack’s power and status. And Jack enjoyed having this moon circling his bright planet, constant and reflecting and never likely to stray.
Michel never really spoke to his son about it. He’d seen Christopher lonely and didn’t want to exile him back into that wasteland. Only once had he felt the need to intervene. This was last summer. Christopher was hanging out with Jack at World Taco; Michel came by to pick him up after his own restaurant’s closing. Michel was surprised to find Christopher on the sidewalk, even more surprised to see that he appeared to have been crying.
“What?” Michel asked as the boy dropped into the seat beside him.
“Jack can be a dick sometimes.”
“What did he do?”
“He just said something.”
“What?”
“Forget it,” the boy said, swiping the back of his hand angrily beneath his inflamed nostrils.
“Christopher…”
“About Mom, all right! About me talking about her so much.”
Michel knew he should let it go. The boys would work it out. If he really felt the need to intervene, he could take it up later with the parents. But Jack had mentioned Maryam. He reached for the door handle.