CHAPTER XVII: THE YOUNG THE TROUBLED THE DEAD

His name was Tommy. Thomas Eric Chase and he was barely 16.

He had lived a horrible life of off and on homelessness, then back home until beaten to a pulp again by his asshole of a father, then out on the streets again either voluntarily or thrown out. His mother was beaten too but she was so stoned all the time that we felt in all likelihood she barely noticed.

I first knew Tommy when I was in high school and he was still in grade school. Cute as fuck kid, bright as hell, and just plain adorable. But there were times when he would come to school all black and blue and although the school counselor and his teachers tried, there was little they could do. Couple even tried to take him in but the father would fight that and back he would go. As for me, I have always felt that this being a biological parent thing has its limits when it comes to custody of children in an abusive household. This was a classic case.

Tommy was a senior this year, ahead of his class which proved his intelligence, but...

"Rob? You think his dad had anything to do with this?"
"Hard to say at this point, honey, but we will look into every possibility you know."
"Yeh," and of course I knew he and the other cops would. If there is one thing a cop hates it's an unsolved case and a child killed to boot.

Forensics and the Coroner finally arrived and took over the scene and we headed to the precinct to file reports and to begin the next-of-kin notification.  Fairly easy, sister was out God knows where. Mother stoned on her ass and only barely concious, Daddy who knew? Older brother, another 'could be anywhere' bozo.

What a group.

I got the cell phone number of the brother, and called. He surprisingly answered.
"Yeh?"
"Yeh, is this Johnny Chase?"
"Who wants to know?
"My name is Dylan Le Maire and I am calling on behalf of the local police department. Your brother has been found murdered."
"Yeh? SO?"
Ahhh, such caring, compassion, empathy, ASSHOLE.
"You will need to come down to the station for questioning."
"YEH HAHAHA right," and with that he hung up.

CUTE KID. But it wasn't just his attitude toward the news that got me. From the minute he answered, something went off inside me. Bells and whistles and stuff. Don't know why, just did.

I tapped Rob on the arm.
"Talked to the brother. Boy what a handbasket of warmth and joy HE WASN'T."
"What did he say?"
"Basically to go fuck myself and then hung up."
"Real charmer eh?"
"Yeh definitely a candidate for warm sweetie of the month."
"Hahaha...whole family is a waste of space. Always have been, except for Tommy."

Boom. That brought the crime scene back into focus, and I almost threw up again.

I filed my feelings toward Johnny (the older brother by barely a year) in the back of my mind, determined to move on and do what I could, but I was also determined not to forget his beligerent attitude. Something just didn't click right with me. Those instincts of mine again.

One of the beat cops did manage to talk, sort of, to the mother which I gathered was sorta like talking to yourself only you listen. She was obviously NO help, and barely coherent according to him. The younger sister did show up after a week and was about as crass ass as you can get. The father hadn't breathed a sober breath since 1982 and evidently didn't plan on doing it any time soon. I couldn't help but wonder if any of them would even make it to the funeral.

This left the older brother, Mister Warmth. I finally tracked him down while Rob was busy with other stuff (and thanks to the phone company and his cell) in a sleaze joint called Bingo's Diner, part food part typhoid...and just a class-less example of a no-class establishment. The place and most of its customers. We like to call it riff-raff city. Bingo was the nickname of its owner and for some reason it always to me seemed to fit him.

Rob and I walked in followed by the posse (lol), and Drew pointed Johnny out to us. We went over and sat down surrounding him.
"What the fuck you assholes want?"
"Talk to you, asshole."
"What about?"
"Your brother, Tommy."
"We wasn't close."
"I can tell, but we have some questions."
"Well I is fresh outta answers fuckwad."
That seemed to do it for Rob, who stood up grabbing Johnny by the neck and hauling him up...spun him around and cuffed him. Without spilling a drop of coffee too. I was so impressed I almost shit my pants.

"MY HERO," I told him later.
"Asshole just pissed me off."
"No kidding."
He looked at me, rolled his eyes, and smirked. That's my boy.

All of the murder victims had gotten to me, and I knew to Rob too. It was in his eyes, but we didn't talk about that part of all this much. Nothing to be gained and I suspect it would have made doing our jobs that much harder.

Rob and Ryan and Sgt. Barton took turns questioning Johnny Chase, and pretty much got zilch for their efforts. Finally he demanded an attorney and Rob reluctantly called in a Public Defender, Jason Remington. (He says he is just like the firearm. Powerful and liable to go off at any moment...with deadly aim. LOL). That should tell you everything you ever wanted to know about Jason. Hehehe.

Rob and I sat in his office waitng for the human weapon of choice of the moment, LOL, and mulling and if we looked exhausted it was cause we were and just about the time I thought we might bust out, the twins showed up...brimmy.

"HI guys," Dylan aka Jr, aka Motormouth Jr, bellowed..which is his way of whispering.
"Hey hotstuff."
"Yeh Yeh. If you wasn't otherwise occupado,"
"Yeh?"
"So there."
We by the way do this all the time. Amuses him no end and so I tolerate it. LOL. Rob tries to pretend he doesn't notice, but...
"Hey bro," he went to Rob.
"Hey."
"I just hit on yah boy, dude."
"Ok."
"God you're no fun."
"So I have been told," and he looked over at me.
"What?"
"Oh nothing."
"Harumph."
"Got some news you slugs."
"What?" Rob asked him.
"You get anything out of Mister Warmth yet?"
"Not yet. Got a public defender coming."
"Not JACEY POO?"
"You know him I asked?"
"Dyl...dear dear sweet dolt of a brother-in-law ALMOST,
Hell, EVERYONE knows Jacey bones. He is NOTORIOUS. Cute as fuck, outrageous to the max, but one hell of a lawyer so we hear. WE of course are never in trouble so no need to use his services."
"How so is he notorious?"
Ok, here we go with the sighs and the eye rolls and the oh puleeze and...

"So what's the news flash, bigshot?"
"Go ahead Drewsie, you tell 'em."

I didn't get an answer to my question about Jason then...and trust me I got to understand the notorious later on and the twins were right. Jason Remington is a trip.

But for now all eyes moved across to Drew who cleared his throat and began...

CONTINUE TO CHAPTER XVIII