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“Marlene’s making some bucks now. She’s raking it in with the modeling, and I heard the guy she’s with has a pile.” Mal’s face screwed up with thought. “We always figured the Schumakers had the scratch. And if he’s got it against any of us, Joe likes to buy big-deal stuff. He doesn’t keep a lot of money because he blows it on things.”
“He’s a showoff, always was. And he’s got a mean streak.” Mrs. Golde pointed at her son before he could protest.
“He does,” Dave confirmed. “He’s tough to be friends with, when you think about it. Farnsworth,” Dave added, with a grin. “Everybody said she was rolling.”
“That’s right.” Mrs. Golde lifted a finger. “Mostly her dad’s money, if I remember. He died pretty young. And her husband had some, too, and he died in a car wreck about six, seven years back. I remember I sent her a sympathy card. She has money, or had it anyway. She always had nice shoes. Not flashy, but quality. And she donated comp equipment to the school.”
“I didn’t know that,” Mal said.
“She didn’t want to be flashy about it, like the shoes. But I hear things.”
“You got ears like a cat, Ma.”
“Ma ears,” she countered and winked at him. “Goes with the territory.”
“I forgot one. My brother. My big brother, Jim.” Dave scrubbed his hands over his face. “He can’t stand Jerry, never could. Used to call him Fuckweed. Sorry, Mrs. G., but that’s verbatim, you know? Jim’s not rich or anything, but he does okay. He lives in Brooklyn, him and his lady. They’re getting married next year. Jim tuned him up once. Jerry said something ugly about the girl Jim was seeing then. You remember Natalie Sissel, Mal. So, Jim punched his lights out. Just pow, pow, and walked away. It was pretty humiliating because Jim let Jerry throw the first punch, then just rocked him out. Right outside Vinnie’s Pizzeria, so everybody saw it. I’ve gotta talk to Jim.”
Dave sprang up, dragging out his ’link as he hurried into another room.
Looking ill, Mal watched Dave run out. “You really think he’ll try to hurt somebody else, try to do what he did to his parents, to Lori?”
“I think it’s good you’re staying here, looking after your mother. You need to contact me, immediately, if he contacts you, if you see him.”
She pulled out the morph. “He’s changed his looks. This is more what he’ll look like now.”
“God. He looks … different.”
“That’s the idea.” Eve got to her feet. “If you think of anyone else, anything else, contact me. Anytime. Something strikes in the middle of the night? Pick up your ’link and tag me. Don’t mess with this, Mal.”
“I’ll get you those cookies.”
Eve started to refuse the offer, but realized she wanted them—and that Mrs. Golde was giving her the eye. “Thanks. I’ll come back and get them.”
She followed Mal’s mother into a spotless, working kitchen.
“He’s not going to want to tell you if Jerry gets in touch.” Mrs. Golde kept her voice low as she laid cookies in a clear, disposable tub. “He’s loyal, and there’s a part of him still that can’t believe it. He’s a good boy, a good friend. But he won’t leave me alone, and he’d tell me. So I can promise you, if that fuckweed—and I can swear in my own house—tags him or comes by, you’ll know, and know quick. And if he thinks I’m afraid, he won’t hesitate to tell you himself. I’ll make sure he thinks I’m afraid.”
“But you’re not.”
“I can take care of myself, and that mean little brat. Believe me, he’s not getting anywhere near my boy.”
“He’s lucky to have you, and you’re lucky to have him.”
“You’re right, both times. You eat these cookies.” She passed the tub to Eve. “You can use the calories.”
14
OUT ON THE SIDEWALK, EVE TOOK A MOMENT to think it through. “Brother Jim kicked his ass. He’d want payback there, but that’s dealing with a guy who’s likely stronger. He’d need to get in close with a weapon. But maybe snatching the fiancée. We’ll check on that. Little League coach, maybe something there since one of his weapons of choice is a baseball bat.”
“The model,” Peabody put in. “Dented ego, like with the ex-girlfriend. And she may have some money.”
“Yeah, a more likely on the scale. The schoolteacher. She cost him his summer, embarrassed him, and she’s got money. Lives alone. And she’s got e-skills, maybe the kind that can create good fake ID.”
Too many of them, she thought. He could pick any one of them out of his murderous hat.
“We check on them all.”
“All?”
