Confessions of a Murder Suspect

38

“You can’t take Tandy!” Hugo shouted, jumping up in front of me, alongside Matthew. Harry got up slowly, too, and stood on Matthew’s other side. Meanwhile, I was busy imagining myself standing in a snowbank, kind of like a snow girl—another Keyesian technique. I relaxed my scowl.

When I felt cool and sweet, I asked, “And how, exactly, have I obstructed governmental administration?”

Caputo said, “I thought you knew everything, Tiddlywinks.”

Hayes stepped in and paraphrased from the NYPD playbook. “Obstruction is when a person intentionally obstructs, impairs, or perverts the administration of law, or prevents or attempts to prevent a public servant from performing an official function by means of intimidation, physical force, or interference.”

I rolled my eyes at him. “Yes, I know what it is. If you had listened to my question, you’d know I asked you how I obstructed you in the least.”

Caputo said, “In your case, Tiger Lily, you neglected to mention that your parents had a dinner guest on the night of the murders. And we’re going to combine that deliberate omission with your refusal to cooperate with our investigation. Ditto for you, Harrington—”

“Harrison!”

“You also omitted the dinner from your statement. And as for you, Mr. NFL Rock Star, you have been intimidating and interfering since you arrived the night of the murders.”

Matty scoffed. “You call what I did ‘intimidation’? Please give me a chance to show you what I call intimidation.” I swear I saw his muscles bulge under his shirt.

Caputo and Matty stared at each other, black marbles against blue ice, until Hugo interrupted the face-off.

“You’ve got nothing on me, Potato,” Hugo said, “so hands off. I’m warning you.”

“You’re a material witness,” said Caputo. “Don’t worry, Shrimp Toast. Child Protective Services will confine you with little terrors your own age.” He continued, “Miss Peck, you’re a material witness and a person of interest. That’s officialese for suspect. Maybe when you have a chance to talk to us privately, you’ll have some fresh thoughts that will actually help us with our investigation.

“Anyone too dumb to be afraid, I’m making you a promise: We’re going to nail whoever killed Malcolm and Maud Angel, however many of you were involved—and you can count on that.”

While Hugo jeered, I called Phil a second time. Again, I got his voice mail. I immediately redialed the phone, my eyes wide open with shock, as unblinking as the eyes of our pygmy sharks.

Phil still didn’t answer.

Hugo had been running in circles around the cops, but suddenly he stopped, climbed up on the coffee table, pulled down his drawers, and mooned them. Then he farted.

Hayes laughed.

Caputo said, “Get down from there, you little poop. Your chariot awaits downstairs. In our slang, we call it a paddy wagon.”

They were really doing it.

They were arresting our whole family.