Page 91 of Fish in a Barrel
“Oh yeah,” Jimmy said grimly. “And you’d think he would have remembered that before unloading some pretty racist shit on Adele there. Fucker. Does he think she’s stupid?”
Jackson gave Jimmy a level look. “Remember, that’s why we’re here. Because hedoesthink she’s stupid, just like he thought Sandra was stupid too.”
Jimmy sucked air in through his teeth. “Easy to get fooled by the guys who don’t have dirt under their nails, am I right?”
Jackson thought of Sandra’s blatant puzzlement. He’d hit her car while it was inher drivewayand had casually announced that nobody would believe her.
“Don’t be,” he said grimly. “You’re worth ten of him.” And then he followed Ellery through the door.
Adele let them in when they knocked and then told them she’d be “right outside.” Which meant she would be in the observation room, probably hoping they’d find a crime to nail this guy on, but Jackson wasn’t so sure. Still, it was good to know they were recording the whole thing. Footage helped.
“You’re not my lawyer,” Cartman said, scowling at Ellery. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“Trying to save your life,” Ellery replied pleasantly. “Although the big question there is why we should bother.”
“I don’t have to talk to you.” Cartman was leaning back in his expensive suit, his golden blond hair still perfectly coiffed, but his expression and demeanor were that of a sulky child.
“You don’t,” Jackson admitted cheerfully. “In fact, Ellery? You know—” He held his hand to his forehead and coughed weakly. “—I’m feeling faint. We should leave. I’m sick, Father, it’s the black lung. I know he’ll die, but I can’t be fuckin’ bothered to save his life.”
“Poor baby,” Ellery murmured, giving Jackson an amused look from the side of his eyes. “You’re right. Who are we to intrude on the machinations of great men? We should leave him to the sniper roaming the city who probably wants his head on a platter just like Charlie Boehner’s.”
Jackson shook his head, looking as sorrowful as he could manage. “Poor asshole. Didn’t even know it was coming. Wandered into his living room and pop!” Jackson mimed taking a sniper shot. “No possible way he deserved that, is there? No way he could have pushed someone too far.”
Cartman’s mouth had gone sulky. “It wasn’t our fault,” he said. “We didn’t know—”
“Didn’t know what?” Jackson asked. “That people had limits? Or that people are people? You wrecked your car leaving the crime scene, sir. Fetzer and Hardison have your car at the repair shop yesterday afternoon, and we’ve got an eye witness, a teacher, who says you smashed into the back of her CR-V, and she has evidence—evidence,mind you—that says it happened in her driveway and not on the road. You literally drove up onto the curb, wrecked the car, got out, looked at the damage, and said nobody would believe her because she was, what? Brown? Female? I’m still unclear on that. But you shit on her and drove away. And you thought that wouldn’t come back to bite you in the ass. So we know brown people aren’t people to you. Women aren’t people to you. Disabled people aren’t people to you. Homeless people aren’t people to you. Who else did you think wasn’t a person who picked up a gun and decided to make Boehner not one and might just be coming after you?”
“You have no proof he’s coming after me—” But they had him, because desperation cracked his voice.
“We haveyou,” Ellery said clinically. “You sent your best detectives to roust Jackson when there was no way he could have done it. Why? Because you wanted to take attention away from whodiddo it. Because something about who did do it links right back to you.”
“You have no proof of that,” Cartman said, drawing himself upright.
“Only your fear stink, soaking up the room,” Jackson said dryly. “And seriously, given that I practically wear antiseptic and medical tape as an aftershave, I’m totally excused for saying that’s foul as fuck. So let’s look at the things that happened this weekend that could have led to Charlie Boehner’s demise, shall we?”
“Well, the city’s attempts to ship the homeless to other parts of the state was revealed,” Ellery said, his voice dry. “That was obviously not your favorite part of the SundayBee.”
“It was a hatchet job,” Cartman said, but Jackson saw the sweat starting at his hairline, so he ignored that.
“That wasn’t the only news in theBee, was it?” Jackson asked musingly. “Wasn’t Ezekiel Halliday in there?”
“Yes!” Ellery said happily, as though they were discussing this over the dinner table. “He was! Something about the four policemen who beat him up being investigated for… what was it again?”
“Brutality,” Jackson said, nodding. “But that wasn’t the only mention they got—lessee… lessee….”
“Oh!” Ellery exclaimed. “They were linked to Charlie Boehner, who defended their actions, and to you, Mr. Cartman, and your attempts to illegally clear out the homeless. So we’ve got four rogue police officers who aren’t really rogue, collusion between the DA’s office and the union representative to basically kidnap people and drug them to stay out of the way, and the DA’s obvious willingness to turn a blind eye on the brutality of his officers as long as they subscribe to his agenda. And a DOJ investigation. Did I get that right? Did I getallof that right?”
Jackson turned to Cartman, whose little line of sweat had coalesced and was now beading and running down his temple.
“I don’t know, Mr. Cartman. Who did we miss?”
“I don’t have to talk to you guys,” Cartman snarled. “You’re a couple of ambulance chasers with an axe to grind—”
“You set the cops on us for no damned good reason,” Jackson replied, keeping his cool. “And Ellery’s a better lawyer in his sleep than you could dream of being. Do better.”
“Nothing you say makes any difference,” Cartman retorted. “You could accuse me of committing murder in here, but you’re not the police and you’re not the DA’s office and—”
“But we do have the ear of the Department of Justice,” Ellery said mildly. “And Jackson just talked to one of our contacts this morning. How’d she sound, Jackson?”