The Guilty - Jason Pinter [16]
John's widow. In various interviews, Mauser insinuated that
he held no ill will toward me. That given the circumstances
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Jason Pinter
he would have defended his life and honor, as well. But a
wound is a wound, no matter how it's caused, and the simple
fact was his brother-in-law would still be alive if not for me.
Mauser had sold the book and film rights to his story for
a reputed seven figures. He said the money wasn't for him,
but would feed his sister's family, educate her fatherless
children. If not for Mauser, my life wouldn't have been saved
by a beautiful stranger. The same woman who now shares my
bed. I guess we could call it even.
Mauser looked good, healthy and even a little tan. He
looked like the kind of man who was proud to serve his city.
And I was glad to finally be on his side.
I could barely hear over the noise as reporters chirped into
cell phones, cameras ran their feeds. Suddenly a hush came
over the crowd and I saw Mayor Dennis Perez stride to the
podium through the massive columns bracketing city hall.
Walking alongside Mayor Perez was Costas Paradis. The
normally confident man looked pale, tired. But looking
through the binoculars, I could see the anger that burned for
his murdered daughter.
The mayor wore a striped gray suit and walked with a
purpose. His mustache was neatly trimmed as always, but his
eyes were bloodshot. He probably hadn't slept since Athena
died. And Costas wasn't the kind of man to mourn. He was
the kind of man whose grief turned to anger, whose anger
turned to rage, and whose rage could scorch the earth. I just
stood and hoped they found the killer before more families
experienced that grief.
The crowd grew quiet. Though the majority in attendance were paid to speak, discuss and bloviate as loud as
humanly possible, they also knew that if they missed a
single word they could miss a scoop, fall behind, give
The Guilty
55
people a reason to pick up a paper or watch a newscast other
than theirs.
I thought about Wallace's sign by the elevators. Then I
looked at the sea of microphones and suits. Just like a
marathon, a giant mass beginning as one. But that wouldn't
last. The good ones would break away.
Mayor Perez stepped to the podium. Costas Paradis stood
next to Perez, and I could sense the mayor's discomfort, like
a child forced to admit wrongdoing in front of an angry
parent.
"Ladies and gentlemen," he began. His eyes traveled from
right to left. Making sure he made eye contact with every
camera he could. Give each station their half second of exclusive content. "At approximately one thirty-seven this
morning, Athena Paradis was shot and killed as she was
leaving a nightclub. This is a shocking and heinous crime, perpetrated by an individual whose depravity knows no bounds.
At this very moment we have unleashed the very best men
and women upon the crime scene to establish just who is responsible for Ms. Paradis's death, as well as their motives in
doing so. No stone will remain unturned, not a second will
go by where Ms. Paradis's murderer will have a chance to
breathe."
Jack was scribbling in a notepad. I was watching their
eyes. Mayor Perez. Costas Paradis. Joe Mauser. There was
worry in them. Right then I knew they had nothing.
The mayor continued.
"The true test of a city is challenge. The test of a family is
grief. In this investigation, we will grieve for the memory of
Athena Paradis, but rise to the challenge of bringing her killer
to justice."
"Second book," Jack said, pen hanging from his mouth.
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Jason Pinter
"What?"
"That line. From Perez's second book. Just made himself
another ten K in royalties right there."
I shook my head as Perez continued. "What we do know
at this time is that the shooter is most likely a lone assailant,
the murder weapon a high-powered rifle which was discharged from the roof of a building several blocks away from
the club where Ms. Paradis was performing that evening. We
have taken casts of footprints discovered at that rooftop, and