The Boom Room by Rick Blechta Page A

point.”
    â€œGordon?”
    â€œDownstairs. Stairway’s at the end of the corridor on the right.”
    Back here, the reek of old cooking oil was added to the stench of beer. The steps to the basement were sticky and slimy at the same time. Pratt gripped the railing tightly.
    At the bottom he found a small square room. Painted flat black some years ago, it was now a dusty dark gray. A door on the left stood open. Two white-suited crime techs were in there. Pratt could clearly see the body slumped over a desk. There wasn’t as much blood as he’d expected with a stabbing.
    He didn’t need to ask where Gordon was. His loud voice could be heard behind a door marked Employees Only .
    Gordon looked up as Pratt entered. His face wasn’t friendly, but then, it seldom was when Pratt was around.
    The space was a locker room for employees and doubled as the dressing room for bands. Everything was low-rent and dirty: lockers, a few chairs, a table, a cheap metal coatrack. The full-length mirror on the back wall had a big crack through it. On a chair in front of it huddled a scared-looking twenty-something kid. Gordon motioned Pratt out of the room. He followed and shut the door.
    â€œDo you think it’s wise leaving your suspect alone?” Pratt asked.
    Gordon ignored him.
    â€œSo you got sent?”
    Pratt nodded. “How come Snow isn’t here?”
    â€œHe got sick earlier this evening. Says he has the flu. It’s bullshit. He wanted a head start on his weekend. Well, the joke’s on him. You too, for that matter. This is an open-and-shut case.”
    â€œThat kid in the room?”
    â€œGuilty as sin. I was about to take him downtown.”
    Pratt raised his eyebrows. “He’s confessed?”
    â€œGet real, Pratt. They all say they’re innocent. Here are the facts. The kid is the leader of the band playing here tonight. He had a screaming argument with Lewis, the owner, this afternoon when they were setting up. Everybody saw it. Then he went around telling everyone what a scumbag the guy was. Said he was going to get him. The club manager heard him. A few hours later, someone sticks a knife in Lewis’s back. And guess who was always flashing a knife—including earlier this evening? The one he claims has now gone missing.”
    â€œThat’s pretty compelling.”
    â€œDamn straight it is! I had to laugh when the kid said he didn’t do it.”
    â€œAnd what if he’s telling you the truth?”
    Gordon stepped right into Pratt’s face.
    â€œKnow what your problem is, Pratt? You think you’re smarter than everyone else. Well, you’re not, and I’m going to prove it. A couple hours’ grilling downtown and this kid will fold like a cheap suitcase. You’ll see.”
    As Gordon went back into the room, Pratt was thinking it was a good thing they had CCTV in the interview rooms now. In the bad old days, cops like Gordon would have beaten a confession out of the kid.
    He sighed. Seldom was a case this easy. The problem wasn’t that he thought he was smarter than anybody. The problem was Gordon’s lack of imagination—and his laziness. If the kid got a good attorney, Gordon’s case could wind up shredded. It did look bad for the suspect, but every aspect of a case should be carefully studied. That was the only proper way to investigate a murder.
    He sometimes wished he could take the easy way out—like Gordon.
    But then, he knew, he wouldn’t be doing his job.

Chapter Two
    Pratt moved back to the doorway of the crime scene room. Two techs in their white “bunny suits” were busy working it up. He knew better than to enter.
    â€œHave a minute, guys?”
    The one closest to the door took a few more photos of the body before turning.
    â€œSure, Pratt. What can I do for you?”
    That was unexpected. Usually, they told detectives to bugger off and let them work.
    â€œAnything