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“Yeah, right,” says DeMarco. He smirks.
“Thanks for agreeing to talk to me,” says Garrett.
“I’m tired of talking to cops,” says DeMarco. “Thought this might be more interesting.”
Garrett digs right in. “Mr. DeMarco, I’m here because you talked to another inmate about murdering a young woman named Suzanne Bonanno seventeen years ago. A cheerleader for the Patriots.”
DeMarco blinks, then smiles. His teeth are big, blocky, and stained yellow. “I might have.”
“Might have said it? Or might have done it?”
DeMarco asks, “Ever move into a new neighborhood, Wilson?”
“Yeah, sure. Many times.”
DeMarco waves one inked-up forearm arm around the room. “Well, this is my new neighborhood. And sometimes in a new neighborhood, you say things to impress your new neighbors.”
Suddenly, this visit is looking like another wild-goose chase. “So this is all bullshit,” mutters Garrett. He starts to signal to one of the guards.
“Put your damn hand down,” growls DeMarco. “Lady who took two to the head last night in Southie was what made me think of it. I hear she used to be a Patriots cheerleader too.” A pause. “I did see Suzanne Bonanno once.”
Garrett leans across the table. “Where was that?”
“Gillette Stadium. Pats were playing the Jets. I had good seats. Great view of the cheerleaders. I noticed her. Suzanne. Fantastic body. Hotter than hell. Later, I got her name off a poster.”
“Ever meet her?”
“Meet her? Fat chance. They guard those girls better than they guard us in here. I never got closer than fifty yards from Suzanne Bonanno. Never touched her.” He licks his thin lips. “Except in my luscious wet dreams.”
That does it. Garrett’s bruises are beginning to throb. He shifts in his seat, ready to stand up. “Right. Okay. Thanks for wasting my time.”
“You know what?” says DeMarco. “You suck as a journalist.”
“Why is that?”
“Because you don’t seem to be after the truth.”
Garrett is irritated. His patience is drained. “Sorry, I’m not following.”
DeMarco lowers his voice and says in a near whisper, “You asked me if I killed Suzanne Bonanno. I said no.” He looks from side to side. “You never asked me if I know who did.”
CHAPTER
35
What kind of game is DeMarco playing?Garrett thinks, then asks, “You know who killed Suzanne Bonanno?”
“That’s right. And I also know where her body is buried.”
“Why should I believe you?”
DeMarco smiles again. “Integrity Gone. Stolen Honor.”
Garrett feels a weird tingle. This creep knows his books?
“Don’t look so surprised, Wilson. I’ve got nothing but time in here. I read a lot, nonfiction mostly. I recognized your name when I saw it on the visitor request. Figured somebody with your skills might be able to help me.”
“Help you how?”