Free The Criminal by Jim Thompson Page B

But leave that part to me. You just get the story, everything you think we ought to have, and I'll check it over myself; tone it down if I feel it needs it."
    The hell you will, Donald. It's MY story . I said, "Well, that does it, I guess. Now, I don't phone, anything in, right? I get the facts, and then I come in and write the story."
    "Right. Try not to be too late, but take as much time as you have to. Mack and I will be waiting."
    I nodded, and got up from my chair. He stood up, too, and stuck out his hand. As I've said, he wasn't a bad guy, even if he was a fathead. But he had pushed me around, and I do not like to be pushed.
    "Good boy," he said. "You do us the right kind of job on this, Bill, and maybe I can swing a bonus."
    "Oh, I'm glad to do it," I said. "I don't expect any bonus, Don."
    I got some copy paper from my desk, and picked up a photographer. We drove to the courthouse, and I had a private chat with the district attorney. I told him about the little surprise the Star had planned for him.
    He was pretty damned sore about it, and, needless to say alarmed. He was also very grateful to me for tipping him off.

8
    WILLIAM WILLIS
    They didn't have the boy, Robert Talbert, in the jug proper. There were a couple of witness rooms with a connecting door adjoining the district attorney's office, and he was in one and a jail matron in the other.
    The d.a. told the matron to catch some air, about an hour's worth. Then, after introducing me and the photog to the boy, he went back to his office and left us alone.
    The kid was about on a par with a good many teenagers I've seen. They aren't watchful exactly. They aren't exactly sullen. There is rather a look of resigned hopefulness about them: they look as though no good can possibly come to them, albeit they would certainly welcome a little and are rightfully entitled to it.
    I do not recall that kids looked that way in my day. I think it must be the times, this age we live in, when the reasons for existence are lost in the struggle to exist.
    He looked from me to the photographer, cautiously, trying to smile-but not too much. The kind of smile that can change quickly into a frown.
    "I t-thought I was going home," he said. "They told me I was going home."
    "You are," I said. "You'll get there all right, Bob. You don't mind talking to me a little first, do you? You don't have to, understand, but I'll sure catch hell from my editor if you don't."
    "Well…" He scuffed his foot against the floor. "What you want to talk about? I already told everything there was to tell."
    "But you haven't told me," I pointed out. "Now, let's get busy-cigarette?-or they'll have you out of here before I can get my story."
    He took a cigarette, and we sat down. He started talking, moving right along with it without being prodded. I took him backwards and forwards through it. I took him from the middle back and from the end to the middle. He didn't trip up. It came out the same way each time.
    He got his foot wet as he started to cross the canyon creek. While he was drying out, the girl showed up. They played around a while and then they had it. She got blood on her clothes and blamed him for it. He tried to get her to promise she wouldn't tell her mother. She was sore, wanting to make him sweat, so she stalled. He got sore and shook her. She promised, and he went on toward the.
    "Hold it a minute, Bob," I said. "Show me how you shook her. Maybe you'd better stand up."
    He stood up and thrust his hands out, curving them as though he was gripping something. I gave the photographer the nod. He crouched down in front of the kid, and shot up at him.
    A shot like that, as you may know, distorts the features, gives them a grim macabre look. With that cigarette tucked in the corner of his mouth and his hands clawing the air, the kid would look like Horrible Bill from Killerdill.
    We got a few other nice poses from him while he was still on his feet, and then I had him sit down and went back to the