“For how long.”
Ricky shrugged. “I’m not very good at reading time.”
Larkin reached across the small room to hand the evidence bag over to Doyle. He watched Ricky follow the photographs like a hawk and lick his lips again. “Tell me about Andrew Gorman. He lived in 2C.”
“He lived with Ms. Lopez.”
Super since at least 1997.
Doyle was writing as he cut into the conversation. “You’re pretty good with names, Ricky.”
“Uh-huh.”
“But not dates?”
“Numbers confuse me,” he said in a long, drawn-out breath.
Doyle looked up from the notepad. “I get that,” he said with the perfect amount of understanding and sympathy. “Did you like Andrew?”
Ricky shook his head.
“Why not?”
“He was mean.” Ricky shot Larkin a dirty look. “Like him. All plastic pretty. One time I found a dummy, but she had no head and a dog had shit down her neck.”
“Don’t be rude, Ricky,” Doyle said in a placating tone.
“I want my pictures back.”
Doyle shook his head. “Tell us about Andrew.”
“He was mean.”
“Mean?”
“No talking to Ms. Lopez, is what he said. He yelled at me that I’d be in trouble. So much trouble, Ricky!So much trouble!So when I had to fix her sink one time, I didn’t even say nothing.”
“Even after Andrew disappeared?” Doyle asked.
Ricky nodded vigorously. “He might be a ghost.” He patted his jeans pocket, turned it inside out, and picked some lint from the lining.
“Is Andrew dead?”
“Of course.”
Doyle looked at Larkin. Exactly one person outside law enforcement had been privy to that detail: Jessica Lopez.
“Where’s Andrew’s body?” Doyle asked next.
“Hewent to Madison,” Ricky answered, glancing up.
“Someone killed Andrew Gorman,” Larkin said, and Ricky was nodding his head once again. “Who.”
The corner of Ricky’s mouth rose in a contemptuous smile. “Me.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“It’s duping delight,” Larkin stated. He stood before Lieutenant Connor’s desk at Precinct 19. It was 6:07 in the evening and Ricky Goulding had been hauled away, booked for the murder of Andrew Gorman and attempted murder of Jessica Lopez—assuming she didn’t take a turn during the night.
