“What you do,” Hunter said, “you see your opening and you step in. You don’t let the guy out until he’s told you something.”

“Remember this room?” Hunter asked Clement.

“Yeah, I remember it. I remember you, too.”

“Still put grease on your hair?”

“No, I like the dry look now,” Clement said.

“Good,” Hunter said. “You messed up the wall the last time-all that guck you slicked your hair down with.”

Clement looked over his shoulder at the wall. “Don’t you ever clean this place up?”

“We hose it out once a week,” Hunter said, “like at the zoo. Get rid of the stink.”

“What’re you,” Clement said, “the heavy? First the nigger and then you. When’s the good guy come in?”

“I’m the good guy,” Hunter said. “I’m as good as it’s gonna get.”

“You haven’t read me my rights.”

“I figured you know it by heart. You want me to read ’em to you? Sure, I’ll read ’em.”

Hunter went out into the squad room. Raymond Cruz sat at his desk with his eyes closed. Hunter poured himself a mug of coffee, picked up a Constitutional Rights form and went back into the file room, sat down and read the first paragraph of the document to Clement.

“You know your rights now? Okay, sign here.” Hunter pushed the document over to Clement with a ballpoint pen.

“What if I don’t want to sign?”

“I don’t give a shit if you sign or you don’t sign. I’ll put down you refused, give us a hard time.”

“But why do I need to sign it?”

“I just told you, asshole, you don’t.”

“I’m in here for questioning as… what?”

“You were arrested.”

“For not having a driver’s license? What’s this got to do with it?”

“While in custody the defendant’s record was examined with reason to believe he might be involved in a homicide under investigation and was detained for questioning.”

“Detained-I can hear you,” Clement said. “And then my lawyer stands up and says, ‘Your Honor, this poor boy was held against his will, without any complaint being filed and was not read his rights as a citizen.’ Buddy, I don’t even know why I’m here. I mean, nobody’s told me nothing yet.”

“You’re in here, Clement, because you’re in some deep shit, that’s why.”

“Yeah? Friend of mine was in this room one time, he refused to sign and nothing happened to him.”

Hunter said, “Look at it from the court’s point of view, Clement, all right?… Which looks better, we get a warrant and arrest you for first degree murder, which carries mandatory life? Or, we report you came to us voluntarily to make a statement. Under no duress or apprehension you describe the circumstances-”

Clement began to smile.

“-under which a man lost his life, telling it in your own words, putting in whatever mitigating factors there may be, such as your mental or emotional state at the time, whether there was some form of incitement or threat to your well being… what’re you grinning at?”

“You must think I went to about the fifth grade,” Clement said, “buy that load of shit. I don’t have to say a word to you. On the other hand I can say anything I want and you can’t use it because I ain’t signed your piece of paper. So what’re we sitting here for?”

“It’s a formality,” Hunter said. “I got to give you the opportunity to make a statement. You don’t, then I take you down the garage, stand you against the wall and beat the shit out of you with the front end of a squad car.”

Hunter said to Raymond Cruz, “Fuck-we don’t get him with the piece, we don’t get him.”

“He sign the sheet?”

“No, but what difference does it make? He’s not gonna say anything. He knows the routine better’n we do.”

“I’ll give it a try,” Raymond said. “Go on home.”

“No, I’ll stick around.”

“Go on. What’re we doing, we’re just chatting with the guy.”

“Clement… how you doing?”

“You’re in trouble,” Clement said. “Carolyn told you, you guys don’t talk to me without her.”

Raymond said, “You spend the night here, she might be a little mad when she finds out, stamp her feet maybe. But she knows it’s part of the business. We see a shot, we have to take it. Listen… let’s go in the other room. You want some coffee?”

Clement said, “I wondered who the good guy was gonna be.”

He sat at Hunter’s desk swivelling around in the chair, unimpressed, until he spotted the mug-shot display, the 263 color shots mounted on the wall and extending from Norb Bryl’s desk-where Raymond sat-to the coatrack by the door. Raymond sat sideways to the desk facing Mansell, ten feet away, who was turned sideways to Hunter’s desk.

“Poor fuckers,” Clement said. “You put all those people away?”

“About ninety-eight percent of ’em,” Raymond said. “That’s this year’s graduates, so far.”

“About ninety-eight percent niggers,” Clement said. “The fuck am I doing sitting here?”

“You want me to tell you?” Raymond said.

“I wish somebody would,” Clement said. “I can guess what your heart’s desire is, but I know you don’t have nothing good else I’d be across the street.”

“I might’ve jumped the gun a little.”

“I believe you jumped the hell out of her.”

“You know how you get anxious.”

“Got to stay cool,” Clement said. “Evidently you got somebody made a car somewhere-”

“At the scene, for one.”

“Yeah?” Non-committal.

“And at the Hazel Park track,” Raymond said. “The car belongs to Del Weems, a friend of Sandy Stanton.”

“Yeah?”

“She’s staying at Del Weems’ apartment, using his car sometimes.”

“Yeah?”

“So are you. I know I can place you over at 1300 Lafayette if I talk to enough people. And there’s a good chance I can put you in the car at Hazel Park, the same time the judge was there, same night he was killed.” Raymond looked at the wall clock. “About twenty-two hours ago… What did you think when we got on you this fast?”

“You got a tape recorder going some place?”

Raymond raised his hands, helpless. “For what?”

“Won’t do you any good if you have.” Clement looked up at the ceiling and raised his voice as he said, “You can’t use anything I’m saying, so fuck you!”

“I can hear you fine,” Raymond said pleasantly. “I’m not trying to pull anything, legal or otherwise. I just thought you and I might save some time if we know where we stand.”

“That sounds like it makes sense,” Clement said, “except I think it’s pure bullshit. There’s no way I can be doing myself any good sitting here. This is a miserable fucking place, you know it?”

“You never went before Guy, did you?”

“No, I was never in his court.”

“So it couldn’t be anything personal.”

“Jesus, you got your mind made up, haven’t you?”

“The only other reason I can think of, somebody must’ve paid you.” Raymond waited. Clement didn’t say anything. Raymond smiled slightly. “That person finds out you’re in custody I think it would clutch him up some… the kind of situation you get into when two or more people are involved in a murder. Like the guy that was shot in front of the Soup Kitchen, the promoter. You remember him? This past summer. Who was convicted? The shooter. Not the guy that arranged it. He copped and we gave him immunity.”

“Jesus Christ,” Clement said, “you’re starting to sound like that other chicken-fat dick, giving me this scary story like I got grits or something for brains.”

“I guess I ought to come right out with it,” Raymond said.

Clement nodded. “I think you’d feel better.”

“Okay,” Raymond said, “what’s gonna happen as soon as we put you in the Buick-we already have the Buick at the scene-you’ll want to start talking deal. You’ll give us something if we’ll ease up a little. Except by then it will probably be too late. We settle for Clement Mansell, he gets the mandatory, that’s it. Did somebody pay him? Who knows? Or more to the point, who cares? See, there isn’t that much wrath, you might say, or righteous indignation involved. Some people think the guy who did the judge ought to get a medal instead of a prison term. But it’s a capital crime, so we have to go through the motions. I want you to understand now we will nail you down, there isn’t any doubt about that… unless, before we put in all these hours and get pissed off and cranky and unreasonable… you say okay, here’s what happened, here’s the name of the guy that put up the fee… then we could probably do something for you. Talk to the prosecutor about second degree, maybe even get it down to manslaughter and put the mandatory on the guy that hired you. You see what I mean?”