Read Online The Patriots Club by Christopher Reich - Free Book Online Page A

Business school at Wharton. Came to the city after I finished. No, I don’t know anyone who dislikes me. And, no, I don’t believe Miss Dance has any enemies, either.” He drew himself closer to the desk. “Look, I told all of this to Detective McDonough. I’ve never seen any of these men before.”
    “But they knew all about you. Even where you were eating lunch.”
    And that he’d worked twenty-five hours a week at Butler Dining Hall.
    Bolden nodded. He knew he would have to get his head around all that later. Right now he just wanted to go home.
    Franciscus looked down at his notes again. “And this guy ‘Guilfoyle,’ he was sure you knew about something called Crown, and someone named Bobby Stillman?”
    Again, Bolden nodded. “I don’t have a clue who, or what, they were referring to.”
    “That’s what we’re here to find out,” said Franciscus. “I am curious about one thing. Just where’d you learn to hit a man like that? You knocked out three of his teeth. Part of me’s wondering who assaulted who. I don’t know who I should be feeling sorry for.”
    “Don’t know. Just something I picked up.”
    “No, you didn’t. That’s not something you just pick up. It’s something you’re taught. Something you practice. Tell me, where does a bright, well-educated kid like yourself learn to take down two pros?”
    Bolden looked at the stack of papers Detective Franciscus had brought in with him. By now he imagined that they’d run his prints through the system, too. It was the law that the court seals a minor’s files when he turned eighteen. “Don’t your papers tell you?”
    “That what you’re so worried about?” Franciscus closed the folder. “Nothing in here ’bout you. Anything you want to tell me . . . anything you think might help . . . you got my word it’ll stay between me and you.” When Bolden didn’t answer, he said, “Let’s start with that artwork on your shoulder. I couldn’t help but notice it when you changed shirts. Who are ‘the Reivers’? Oh, and I especially liked the second part: ‘Never Rat on Friends.’ ”
    Bolden fought the instinct to look down at his shoulder. The Reivers were family. The Reivers were friends who looked out for one another. The Reivers were all he had had when things had gotten tough. “Just some old friends,” he said.
    “Friends who need a few lessons in using a tattooing needle. Where’d you get it? Prison? Reform school? That why you worried if you checked out? Don’t worry, I’m not going to say a thing to your employer.”
    Bolden dropped his eyes. He felt himself draw back, the old distrust of police—of authority, in general—take over.
    “It’s not a crime to have belonged to a gang, Mr. Bolden,” said Franciscus. “It might help me with my work.”
    “It wasn’t a gang,” Bolden explained. “Just some guys I used to run with. That was over fifteen years ago. It’s got nothing to do with what happened tonight.”
    “And what about the gangs you work with in this neck of the woods?”
    “The gang-intervention program? It’s run out of the Boys Club. I just help organize some of the events. Raise money. That kind of thing. We held a chess match last weekend. One of the kids beat me in the second round. I didn’t make any enemies there, either.”
    “So you don’t believe that there’s a connection between your work at the Boys Club and what happened tonight?”
    “No.”
    Franciscus removed his bifocals and laid them on the table. “And that’s your last word?”
    “It’s the truth.”
    Franciscus laughed tiredly. The truth, his eyes said, was a very tricky thing. “I’m going to level with you, Mr. Bolden. I’m not entirely sure you’re the innocent you make yourself out to be. I think there’s a lot more going on here than you’re letting on.” Franciscus moved his chair closer and threw his hands on the table, so that he and Bolden were face-to-face, two opponents ready to arm wrestle. “I’m