Invisible Boy(9)
Author:Michael J. McCann

    Hankchuckled.

    “Itwas some kind of costume,” Schein went on. “You put on thiswoman’s skirt business,” Schein pantomimed with his hands, “andit unfolds around you, up over your head and all the rest. From adistance it looks just like the real thing. No pun intended. At thetime it kind of pissed me off so I gave him the business. He saidhe’d found it downtown behind some art gallery. I said found it,bullshit. You stole it, didn’t you? Anyway, make a long storyshort, I gave him a ride over there and made him give it back.Somebody had left it outside on top of a dumpster while they werebringing stuff inside and forgot it. They were so relieved theydidn’t press charges. I asked him afterwards if he’d seenanything at the station that didn’t look right, guys in uniform wholooked like ringers. He said no, but he’d go back and watch for me.I said no fucking stolen art costumes this time, right? He said okay,so when I let him out at the park I told him to be careful. He saidhe would.” Schein looked back again at the theater entrance. “Thatwas it.”

    Hankconsidered for a moment. “Think there’s a connection between thatand this?”

    “Thetrain thing?” Schein shrugged. “Could be. Hard to say. I dunno.This sucks, Donaghue. He was a good kid. I kept telling him, go home,leave the drug wars to us guys that get paid for it. It’s toodangerous. These pricks play for keeps. But he wouldn’t scare. Hewas a determined little bastard.”

    “Hewas that,” Hank agreed. His own experience with Invisible Boy hadbegun last year at the scene of a drug-related shooting. Two rivalstreet gangs had gotten into a dispute over territory and a19-year-old kid ended up fatally shot in the stomach. It happened onOgilvy Street, two blocks from Governor’s Park. Hank was finishinghis notes and getting ready to leave when he glanced across the roadand saw a garbage bag move slightly in a large stack of refusewaiting for pickup by the sanitation department. He went back to hisnotes, finished up, put the notebook away and casually saunteredacross the street. There was a battered Ravens cap sitting on top ofthe garbage bag, as though tossed there by someone too lazy to stuffit into the bag. The bill of the cap moved about an inch toward Hankas he approached.

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