Mystic River Page #7

from someplace.

About midnight, I'd say to Annabeth,

'I'm gonna go sit on the porch for a while.'

Weird thing is...

...it seemed to bring her back.

I saw her, you know.

Saw who?

Katie. I was at McGill's Saturday night.

You saw Katie Saturday night?

- Never got around to telling you.

Did you talk to her?

Just nodded hello at one point.

Next time I looked up, she was gone.

But...

...Jimmy...

...she looked...

...happy.

I got more walking to do.

Good night.

You stole his car.

- His car was officially towed.

From the front of his house.

- No. It was abandoned in Rome Basin...

...adjacent to the parkway.

Lucky for us, the parkway's state

jurisdiction. Some kids jacked the car...

...they took it for a joy ride...

- What? Why'd you do it?

After I left you last night, I decided to talk

to Boyle myself, put some fear into him.

I get to his house, I decide to look in

his car, see what he's got. I find blood.

Blood?

- Front seat of Dave's car. B-negative.

How much?

- A bit. Found more in the trunk. A lot more.

Type O, same type as Katie Markum.

Wait, Katie Markum

never got in anybody's trunk.

She was chased through the park

where she died.

It's enough to ask questions.

- Your search is gonna get tossed out.

No, found and abandoned in state

jurisdiction, for insurance purposes.

In the best interest of the owner.

- Get a physical search, file the report.

Bingo.

You wanna talk to him,

or should I send him home?

Dave's here?

- I've had him in the box for an hour.

Sent two of my biggest, ugliest troopers

to pick him up.

Come on, Mr. Boyle.

We know you didn't get that swollen hand

sticking it in the garbage disposal.

Oh, yeah? How do you know that?

- Why's your wife afraid of you?

She know what really happened

to your hand?

How about a Sprite or something?

How about you tell us what really happened

Saturday night, Mr. Boyle?

You lied.

That's your opinion,

which you're entitled to.

Hey, you think this is funny?

- No, I don't. I'm tired, I'm hung-over.

Not only was my car stolen last night,

but now you won't release it to me.

Okay.

All right.

Tell us, Mr. Boyle,

how did you get the blood in your car?

What blood?

- Let's start with the front seat.

What are you looking at him for?

Hey, you think I could get

that Sprite, Sean?

Sure.

Oh, I get it.

You're the good cop.

How about a meatball sub

while you're at it?

I ain't your b*tch, Dave.

Looks like you'll have to wait.

Yeah, but you're someone's b*tch,

aren't you, Sean?

The blood on your front seat, Dave.

Answer the sergeant.

We got a chainlink fence in our back yard.

Me and my kid play Wiffle Ball

every afternoon after school.

He's getting good, so most of the balls

are on the other side of the fence.

So I climb it.

Except I slip...

...slice myself where the links curl in,

right here.

Bled like hell.

Ten minutes later,

I gotta pick up Michael at school.

Probably was still bleeding

when I got in the front seat.

What blood type are you?

B-negative.

Yeah? That's the match we got.

Well, there you go.

- Not quite.

Blood in the trunk of the car

wasn't B-negative.

I don't know anything

about any blood in the trunk.

No idea how half a pint of blood

got in the trunk?

None.

- This is not the way you wanna go, Dave.

How will that look in court?

You not knowing how

someone else's blood...

got in the trunk of your car?

Gonna look fine, I suppose.

You filed the report.

What report?

The stolen-car report.

The car wasn't in my possession last night.

So whatever the thieves used it for,

you should find out...

...because it sounds like they

were up to no good.

Things looking any better

on the Sprite, Sean?

Well, you just got too f***ing smart.

The car is inadmissible.

Anything there, his lawyers say

was put by thieves.

I can break him.

- He just kicked our asses.

You still think Dave wouldn't hurt a fly...

Is that the point? No.

- What is the point?

We can break this open on the gun.

It's the gun.

Okay. Maybe.

So, what do we do with Dave?

F*** it. Kick him loose.

Maybe a Celtic cross.

That's always a popular choice.

Or this lovely red marble here.

Or a figural.

That one.

Very good. Nice and simple.

Hey, Jimmy.

Annabeth said you were here.

We been asking around, like you said to.

Yeah?

- Yeah.

Jimmy, this ain't about the two-year bit

you did for me.

And it ain't about me missing your brains

running things.

Katie was my niece. Not by birth, but

she was part of our family, we loved her.

I don't question you, Val.

What's up?

Cops are all over this. Doing their job

for once. Bars, street trade, everything.

Every hooker we talked to, bartender,

already been questioned.

The f***ing law has descended, Jimmy.

- What about Just Ray's kid?

Quiet as a mouse.

Kid's no trouble to anyone.

I talked to Diane and Eve.

They said he loved her.

Jimmy, they said that she loved him.

Want us to take a run at him?

- No.

Hold off for now.

Anything else?

What?

Val, you wanna spit something, spit it.

Tell him.

Sean Devine and his partner

went by and saw Dave Boyle.

Dave was at McGill's. Probably

questioning him like everybody else.

I heard something else this morning too.

Two staties came by in uniform.

- Maybe they forgot to ask him something.

No. When they left,

they took him with them.

They put him in the back seat,

if you know what I mean.

'Raymond Matthew Harris,

born 9-6, 1957.

First child, Brendan Seamus, born 1983.'

Same year that Just Ray is indicted

in a scam to embezzle subway tokens.

Charges are dropped, and he's fired.

Does odd jobs after that,

including clerking at Looney Liquors.

Questioned in that robbery. Questioned

in another, same year, Blanchard Liquors...

...released on lack of evidence again.

Beginning to become known, though.

- He's getting popular.

'A known associate, one Edmund Reese,

fingers Raymond...

...in the 1985 heist

of a rare comic-book collection.'

Comic books? You go, Ray.

Hey, excuse me,

$150,000 worth of comic books.

Oh, excuse me.

'Raymond returned said literature

unharmed.' Does a year solid inside.

Comes out with a chemical-dependency

problem.

Gets honest work

to support the habit, though?

Evidently not.

Picked up in a joint

MCU-FBI sting operation...

...trafficking stolen goods across

state lines. Stole a truckload of cigarettes.

The boy's got style.

- Got a boatload of grief too.

Stole the truck in Rhode Island,

drove it into Massachusetts.

Hence, the federal interstate rap.

- Hence, they got him by the balls, but...

...he does no time.

He rolled on someone.

- Looks that way. After that, he's clean.

August 1989, he disappears.

One, he's dead, two, in Witness Protection.

Three, he goes deep underground,

then pops back up...

...to murder his son's 19-year-old girlfriend?

We got nothing.

A prime suspect in a robbery 18 years ago,

during which the murder

weapon was used.

The guy's son dated the victim.

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