Silence.
Milo said, “Okay?”
Kehoe shook his head frantically. “Caitlin says—I hope you’reright.” He shuddered. Sweat flew. Another Newfoundland lumbering ashore.
“Donotworry, Marty. You’ve done nothing that could be considered criminal and the fact that you came forward to give us information shows you’re a good person.”
Kehoe looked at him. “Thanks for saying that.”
“Anything else you can tell us about Paul?”
“Like what?”
“Like who’d want to kill him.”
“Caitlin says a lot of people,” said Kehoe. “Because of what I told her about Paul. But I don’t know who.”
Milo showed him Jamarcus Parmenter’s photo.
Kehoe said, “He did it?”
“No, he’s a victim of an older homicide. Know him?”
“Never seen him before.”
“Could he be a guy Paul mighta known?”
“Sure,” said Kehoe. “Yeah, I could see that.”
“Why?”
“He could be a club dude and Paul kept doing clubs after I quit.”
Milo kept the photo at Kehoe’s eye level. “You’re sure you’ve never seen him.”
“If I did, I’d tell you.Believeme, I’d tell you.”
—
We followed the usual routine, asking the same questions rephrased. Sometimes people get spooked because they realize they’re being played. The process calmed Marty Kehoe, loosening his voice, his phrasing, and his posture.
For all that, nothing new to say.
Milo looked at me. I shook my head. We stood.
“Thanks, Marty. If you think of anything else, here’s my card.”
“Yes, sir.” Kehoe retrieved the broom. As we left, he swept. More circles.
—
Out on the sidewalk, I said, “That question about racial preferences. You’re wondering about if O’Brien came on to Keisha. Or another woman Boykins cared about.”
“You bet. Yeah, it’s a racially narrow approach, why would I think Boykins wouldn’t care equally about a White woman? But all I give a damn about is doing the damn job.” He glanced at his Timex. “Time for your job. The one that pays.”
Chapter
15
