"What about the boy you put in the hospital?" I asked.
"It's not my fault his face hit my fist.”
I gave him a flat look.
"He shouldn’t have mouthed off. What did he think was gonna happen?”
"You can't go around putting people in the hospital," I said.
"I guess he's not going to talk trash again.”
"Where were you last night between 9:30 and 10:00 PM?”
His big blue eyes flicked between the two of us. "I was at home. Sleeping. Ask my dad."
"We did. He said he looked into your room, and you were gone.” I lied. It wasn't illegal to lie.
His eyes rounded, and his jaw dropped. "Well, maybe he just didn't look hard enough.”
I gave him a flat look. "Did you sneak out last night?”
"What business is that of yours?”
"Did you pay Mr. Coleman a visit last night?”
Bobby's face wrinkled. "Why would I pay that guy a visit? I didn't like him.”
"Did you take your father's gun?”
"No. What are you talking about?”
"The .22 Ruger.”
Bobby swallowed, looking guilty. After a moment, he admitted, "Look, I was gonna give it back.”
I tried not to look surprised. "Where is it now?”
"Under my mattress.”
"Why did you take it?”
"I wanted to show a friend.”
"Did you tell your dad about this?”
"No. He'd kill me if he knew I touched his guns. You're not going to tell him, are you?”
I just stared at him. Bobby wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed. It's a good thing he excelled at athletics.
"I need you to be honest with me. Did you take the gun and shoot Coach Coleman?"
24
Bobby’s brow knitted. "No.”
We both gave him a look of disbelief.
"I swear. I didn’t like the guy, but I didn't shoot him. I'm not stupid. You go to jail for that shit.” Then he added, "Sorry."
