Supercop Sean Devine has just informed me of the arrest of two boys; a couple'a punks with hockey sticks and a missing gun. One of 'em was Just Ray Harris' kid, the mute one. That part isn't all that surprising, given what I know about Ray Sr. and his bitch of a wife. I don't know the other, but from what Sean said about the catch, he's a crazy little fucker. They're both somethin' close to early-teens; old enough to handle a gun. Old enough to chase down a drunk and injured 19-year-old girl through the park. Old enough to beat the shit out of her before lodging a pill in her head. Old enough to know how to keep their heads down with cops swarming all over the place. Young enough to hardly leave a single trace in the wet grass.
Dave Boyle never killed my Katie. She was taken out by a pair of featherweight sociopaths in sneakers.
Oh God, what the fuck am I gonna tell my family?
Friday, November 8, 2013
I need to think.
Celeste found me around town the other day, wanted to talk about Dave; said he scared her, with some crazy shit about vampires and poison and wolves, and that she'd taken her kid and run. And we did. Talk.
I haven't told the Savage brothers yet about that little conversation. I know, you'd think something like finding out my cousin-in-law suspects her fucked-in-the-head husband of killing my kid, would just be at the front of my mind all the time, right? It is; the two blockheads have their fucking phones off. Val and Kevin'll help me out once they're in the loop, but... Jesus Christ, this is so messed up!
I think I'll take a walk down by the Mystic, check up on all the old dives, ya know? Make sure nothing's changed, find a friend to talk to. Maybe hit up the bar right at the water's edge, one of those quiet places where everyone just leaves you to your own business. Then I'll track down the boys.
I haven't told the Savage brothers yet about that little conversation. I know, you'd think something like finding out my cousin-in-law suspects her fucked-in-the-head husband of killing my kid, would just be at the front of my mind all the time, right? It is; the two blockheads have their fucking phones off. Val and Kevin'll help me out once they're in the loop, but... Jesus Christ, this is so messed up!
I think I'll take a walk down by the Mystic, check up on all the old dives, ya know? Make sure nothing's changed, find a friend to talk to. Maybe hit up the bar right at the water's edge, one of those quiet places where everyone just leaves you to your own business. Then I'll track down the boys.
Coping, I guess.
My wife's takin' this real hard. I mean, we all are, but damn. Annabeth isn't even really related, not like flesh and blood, but you'd never fucking know if you saw her the way she is now. I've never seen the girl this shook up, not even when Janey, her mother, died. I don't know what the hell to do right now; I got eyes and ears all over this town, all of 'em comin' up blind and deaf. The cops are hitting walls at every turn, slammin' drunks and assholes and nobodies alike for nothing but a buncha useless scraps. They've got my friends in there, family even, and not a fucking one of them would've had anything to do with this shit.
I feel fucking numb, like I'm in a haze, ya know? Sorta like being drunk, only none of the high and all of the hangover when you're finally sober. I talked to Dave about it, and that seemed to help a little. Almost funny, how all it took to reconnect and make friends with the guy was my daughter's murder. Celeste, Dave's wife, looked off, though; twitchy, sorta nervous-like? I dunno, maybe it's just me; the two of 'em have been great the last few days, helpin' out with the arrangements and such. Celeste is great at keepin' Annabeth's mind offa things, letting her take a fucking break once in a while. I think that's kind of the best thing for her right now, 'least until we hear more on the case.
I feel fucking numb, like I'm in a haze, ya know? Sorta like being drunk, only none of the high and all of the hangover when you're finally sober. I talked to Dave about it, and that seemed to help a little. Almost funny, how all it took to reconnect and make friends with the guy was my daughter's murder. Celeste, Dave's wife, looked off, though; twitchy, sorta nervous-like? I dunno, maybe it's just me; the two of 'em have been great the last few days, helpin' out with the arrangements and such. Celeste is great at keepin' Annabeth's mind offa things, letting her take a fucking break once in a while. I think that's kind of the best thing for her right now, 'least until we hear more on the case.
Why?
There are some things guys say you should never put on the internet. Where you live, your kids' names; stuff you've seen, the shit you've done; the guys you like, the guys you don't. Little details, ya know? There's a lotta people out there waiting to hurt you and the ones you care about, people who'd never even know you existed if you hadn't left that fucking piece of your life out in the open where anyone could find it.
This is my first goddamn post. No facebook, no twitter, hardly anything about me anywhere outside the local ad pages these days. Shit, I'm barely even there- 'not like people come flocking to the Flats for their booze and cigs, right? I don't bother nobody, don't go asking for trouble; on the straight and narrow, ya know? My wife don't use this stuff, and my kids don't either. All the guys who need to know us already do; did from birth, most likely, in a neighborhood like ours, and none of 'em would ever touch a hair on our goddamn heads. So why the fuck is my little girl lyin' on a slab with a bullet in her skull?
It's a big thing, all over the fucking news. Investigation's wide open, pullin' suspects outta thin air just to let 'em go an interview later. The cops promised to keep me informed, promised to get the bastard who killed my Katie. For his sake, I hope they do... 'Cause I don't know what the hell I'll do if I find him first.
It's a big thing, all over the fucking news. Investigation's wide open, pullin' suspects outta thin air just to let 'em go an interview later. The cops promised to keep me informed, promised to get the bastard who killed my Katie. For his sake, I hope they do... 'Cause I don't know what the hell I'll do if I find him first.
Friday, October 25, 2013
Overview: What to Expect
So I guess this is how this works; interesting. I've never bothered with a blog before, so let me know if I stink at making one. Or managing one. I mean, God, people, I don't even tumbl with any modicum of e-grace. Oh well.
The purpose of this enterprise (at present) is to maintain a blog based on the book Mystic River, by Dennis Lehane, a Crime & Mystery novel centered around the miserable lives and traumatic experiences of three men, their wives, and their offspring.* For my own selfish reasons (aka, my GPA), the majority of these posts will be from the viewpoint of a character of my choice; Jimmy Marcus.
Jimmy Marcus is a former child-delinquent with an unnatural hatred for his daughter's secret boyfriend. As a child, he was a loose cannon; cocky, impoverished, mercurial, and capable of a complete disregard for the laws and general guidelines of modern society. After his stint in prison as a young adult, Jimmy stepped up to become a loving father of three, a caring husband, and a reasonably respectable member of society. The mother of his first child, Katie, has been dead for years; now Katie is too, murdered the night before she left town for good. Jimmy's not so willing to sit idle anymore.
*For the record, this is a character profile, not a shimmering, glittering, and outstandingly gushy book review. You'll have to find someone else for that; online, I exhume sarcasm and irritation like normal humans do carbon dioxide.
The purpose of this enterprise (at present) is to maintain a blog based on the book Mystic River, by Dennis Lehane, a Crime & Mystery novel centered around the miserable lives and traumatic experiences of three men, their wives, and their offspring.* For my own selfish reasons (aka, my GPA), the majority of these posts will be from the viewpoint of a character of my choice; Jimmy Marcus.
Jimmy Marcus is a former child-delinquent with an unnatural hatred for his daughter's secret boyfriend. As a child, he was a loose cannon; cocky, impoverished, mercurial, and capable of a complete disregard for the laws and general guidelines of modern society. After his stint in prison as a young adult, Jimmy stepped up to become a loving father of three, a caring husband, and a reasonably respectable member of society. The mother of his first child, Katie, has been dead for years; now Katie is too, murdered the night before she left town for good. Jimmy's not so willing to sit idle anymore.
*For the record, this is a character profile, not a shimmering, glittering, and outstandingly gushy book review. You'll have to find someone else for that; online, I exhume sarcasm and irritation like normal humans do carbon dioxide.
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