The phone on Eggers’s desk rang. “Yes? Send him in.” He hung up and turned to Stone. “Ready?”
“You be the good cop,” Stone said.
“Right.”
Bobby Keene was a large young man, whose neck was wider than the top of his head. Stone thought there had been a handsome face in that head once, before the boy had discovered weight training.
“Bobby, how are you?” Eggers said, sticking out a hand.
“I’m very well, Mr. Eggers,” Bobby said earnestly.
“Bobby, I want you to meet another l
awyer who’s helping us out with your case. This is Stone Barrington; Stone’s had a lot of experience in this sort of thing, and I think he’ll be able to help us a lot.”
“Gosh, I hope so.” Bobby stuck out a ham-sized hand. “How do you do, Mr. Barrington?”
Stone kept a poker face, shook the hand limply, but did not return the greeting. “Sit down,” he said, and it was an order.
Bobby sat, looking worried.
“Tell me about it,” Stone said, sounding bored.
“Sir?”
Stone turned to Eggers. “Jesus Christ, Bill, is the kid stupid, or what?”
“Bobby,” Eggers said gently, “tell Mr. Barrington what happened on the evening you went out with” – he glanced at a pad on his desk – “Janie Byron.”
“Oh, of course, sir. I’m sorry, I didn’t know what Mr. Barrington meant.”
“Just tell me,” Stone said.
“Well, there isn’t much to tell. We went to a movie-”
“What kind of a movie?”
“An old one; a John Ford western.”
“Downtown, shopping mall, drive-in?”
“Oh, a drive-in, right outside town.”
“Then what happened?”
“Well, we got some popcorn, we ate it, we watched the movie, we made out a little.”
“Define ‘made out.’ Exactly.”
Bobby retained his earnest tone. “We kissed a few times.”
“Did you touch her breasts?”
“Well, yeah, she seemed to want that.”
“Oh, she said to you, ‘Bobby, please, please grab my tits,’ is that how it happened?”
“Well, not exactly.”