Who Was Talking About Me?
Previously: Jeannie and Mark chat with Tyler Shea and Angela Parisi.
01:15 PM - Tuesday, November 4, 2014
Xavier Prep, Outer Richmond District, San Francisco
Mark saw a dark-haired boy come through the library doors and glance in his direction before ducking his head down. He seemed to be slight, but fit and and wiry, moving quickly over to the tables where Mark was stationed. Mark noticed that his plaid shirt was buttoned up to the neck but left untucked and overly long. He slowed as he approached Mark, hands going to his backpack straps with uncertainty.
“Are you Agent Greenberg?” Mark stood and towered over him.
“Yes. And you’re Vin Parisi?” The boy gave him a curt nod, again ducking his head.
“Good. We’ve been hearing a lot about you the last few days.” The head snapped up to look at him, eyes glinting but wary too.
“What do you mean?” Mark shrugged slightly and cocked his head, considering the kid.
“Nothing, just that your name keeps coming up.” The kid’s chin went up defiantly, eyes flaring. “We’re hoping you can help clarify a few things.” Mark opened the iPad to the consent form and ran him through it.
“Consent for what?”
“For me to take a quick look at your cell phone and see what kind of images you might have of Friday night. It would be very helpful.” Mark blinked at him. “We know you want to be helpful Vincent, a girl is dead.” This remark seemed to land at least, but so far Mark wasn’t sure the kid had any nerves in his entire body. Mark gestured to a chair opposite him, silently inviting him to sit. Reluctantly, Vin shrugged the backpack off and let it down to the floor before pulling out the chair to sit.
“Who- who was talking about me?” Vin asked quietly.
“Mmmmm. I can’t remember exactly, but I know there was some general surprise that you weren’t included in the initial interviews on Sunday. Both you and your sister.” Vin’s eyes flared again.
“My sister doesn’t know anything.”
“But you do, don’t you?” Mark challenged with a bored sigh. Part of this was a put-on, and part of it was authentic; Mark had little patience for people trying to be tougher than they were in reality. Some prep school kid trying to play at thug life was unimpressive. Vin Parisi’s nostrils flared as he glared at him from across the table. Mark sat down in the chair and looked at him, smiling slightly. “Oh, Hagen’s going to love you.”
A few minutes into his staring contest with Vin Parisi, Jeannie came through the library doors with the Dean, and the two made their way over to join them at the table, Jeannie sitting next to Mark with the Dean opposite.
“What’s going on?” Jeannie whispered lightly, glancing at Vin.
“Nothing much.” Mark whispered, folding his arms across his chest. “Vincent here is a bit of a brick wall.” Jeannie raised her eyebrows and turned to face the kid fully.
“We’re glad we could talk with you today, Vin.” Jeannie began, “We’re hoping you can give us some insight into the events of Friday night.” Vin sucked his cheeks slightly, showing the merest dusting of dark hairs along his jawline, but said nothing. Jeannie glanced at Mark and then turned back to Vin, her slight smile offering a dimple. Vin’s eyes were cold, face impassive. “Why don’t you begin by telling us what you did after school on Friday until you arrived at Tripp’s house?”
Silence.
“Vincent - I’m here as your adult advocate,” the Dean began, “I’m here to serve as a witness to anything you say —”
“I have nothing to say.” Vin said tersely, glancing at the Dean.
“Vin — you were at the party, you could at least tell the investigators what you saw.”
“I didn’t see anything.”
Mark heard Jeannie exhale with a slight hum. “Is that because you were wearing a wolf mask?” Jeannie flipped the iPad to the image of the wolf mask from evidence and laid it on the table in front of Vin, whose face paled slightly, but he said nothing. “Really, nothing to say about that?” Jeannie turned to look at Mark, “You weren’t kidding.”
“I knew you’d love him.”
“So Vincent, let’s try again. You don’t want to talk to us because…someone has told you not to?” Jeannie cocked her head. “Because honestly there is no need for this obstinacy. You aren’t earning yourself any points here, and frankly I’ve seen it done a lot better by a lot tougher guys than you, so if you’re trying to impress me, you’re failing.” Vin tucked his head and looked down at the table. “So who told you not to cooperate?” Vin fidgeted slightly in his seat, not looking at anyone. “We know you’re close with Tripp Hartman and that your father and his father are close too, so I’m sure you think you’re being loyal to him in some way? Is that it?” Vince rolled his head backward this time, resettling in his seat. Rolling his dark eyes, he shrugged slightly and looked at the tabletop. “Hmmm, well, let me offer you some insight from experience…” Jeannie paused, inhaling slowly. “I guarantee you Jim Hartman is not going to lift a finger to help you.” Vin stopped fidgeting and stared at Jeannie from below his brows. Mark held his breath.
“That’s it, isn’t it? You think Jim Hartman is going to get you out of whatever situation you’re in, and you think if you can just keep quiet and not tell anyone anything about a party where you were seen by dozens of people, where there was underage drinking and illicit drugs, and where somehow someway a girl — a girl a good friend of yours used to date — winds up dead in the morning; that if you just pretend you didn’t see anything or know anything that you’ll be all good and Jim Hartman will take care of you?” Vin stared at her for a long moment.
“Yeah, so?” He tossed out quietly.
“So, you’re way out of your depth.” Vin’s eyes narrowed at her.
“What?”
“You heard me. Jim Hartman isn’t going to help you. The only people who are going to help you, Vin, are sitting at this table with you.” Jeannie’s voice was low and controlled. A warning. Another long silence while Vin stared at Jeannie, a sneer forming.
“Vincent — “ the Dean began, “I hope you’re hearing what Officer Hagen is saying to you —”
“I fucking heard her.”
“Vincent, your language.” The Dean’s face was red with embarrassment.
“It’s fine.” Jeannie said simply. “I’d be swearing too if I were in his position.”
“Dude — what, what do you think I know?” An explosion of shouting. Suddenly Vin Parisi was a ball of movement, jumping out of his chair slightly, arms flying outward, hands wild. “I don’t know fucking anything! I don’t know how she died!”
“Maybe.” Jeannie replied coolly, her mouth forming a line. “But plenty of people confirmed that you were one of the ones wearing a wolf mask that night, and that somehow Alexa Thomas was lured away from the party onto a dark trail where you and your wolf pack friends scared her.” Vin’s mouth was parted slightly, fear glinting in his eyes finally. Jeannie stared at him unblinking.
Mark cleared his throat gently and leaned forward. “You see Vin, we know the story already, we just need you to fill in the details. And, if we have it wrong, it’s because someone must have told us the wrong thing. So, now’s your chance to give it to us the right way.” Vin looked at him with disbelief. “But Officer Hagen is correct: there’s no cavalry coming to help you, certainly not Jim Hartman. We’re the best you’re going to get.” Vin’s mouth kept popping open and closed as his eyes looked up and roamed the ceiling.
“Should we go back to where we started?” Jeannie asked gently. Vin’s shoulders were shuddering. “Vincent.” He finally looked at Jeannie again, heaving a breath. “Vin — we need you to start with the end of the school day on Friday. Where did you go, what did you do, what time did you get to the Hartman’s house for the party, and what was your costume?”
It was nearing 2PM when they finally exited the school.
“Jesus, I’m starving.” Mark groaned as they got into the car. “Know anywhere we can get a bite?”
“Of course. Burritos?” Mark set a course to Geary Street where Jeannie assured him an excellent burrito awaited at a place called Gordo’s. It was small taqueria with an ochre tile floor and a short line of patrons waiting patiently.
“Should I do a regular or a super?”
“That’s between you and your rabbi.” Jeannie quipped, eliciting a chuckle.
“What’s your order?”
“I do a regular chicken, but with guac and cheese, no pico, no rice, black beans.”
“I’ll take your word for it.”
“Be sure to get the green sauce though - it’s good.”
Taking their plastic baskets and a grease-stained paper bag of chips to one of the short tables in the window, the pair tucked in to eat.
“This is excellent. I’m liking Mexican food more and more out here.”
“Yeah, it’s the bomb.” Jeannie said through her food, reaching for a chip. “It’s weird to have lunch just with you though — Paco’s usually with us.”
“Mmmm.” Mark raised his eyebrows. “What should we talk about?”
“Your choice.” Jeannie smiled slightly.
“Okay, tell me about politics.” Jeannie’s low voice let rip a long laugh.
“What do you want to know? It’s craziness.” She chuckled.
“Tell me about him. The man.”
“The President?” Mark nodded. “I mean, he’s great. He’s exactly the way he seems in interviews and everywhere else. He’s brilliant and funny.”
“So, why’d you leave?” Mark chopped another bite.
“Um, I was exhausted? That, and…” Jeannie paused, eyebrows raising with a sigh. “Well, it was time. They offered me a role, but, I mean, I knew I wanted to go to law school, and I knew that was just going to get harder to do.”
“You gave up a job in the White House to go to law school?”
“I know. When you say it that way, yeah. But, the thing is,” Jeannie crumpled a napkin wiping her fingers and leaned forward a little. “The thing is, I truly was exhausted — that whole year, year and a half was non-stop. If I had any downtime all I did was sleep. Plus, I was hired because I’d been at Brookings so I was kind of stuck in this role of data-data-data, right? Research, polling, analysis, all that. I wasn’t on the policy side, I just informed the policy side.”
“Policy is sexier?”
“Definitely. I don’t know how I became the numbers person: statistics, blah blah blah. It’s not my thing. So, law school.” She shrugged slightly, taking a bite. “Plus, Chris and I reconnected around then, and, you know.” She shrugged again.
“You don’t miss it?”
“I mean, yeah? The convention in Denver was incredible. The energy, the speeches — it was all so inspiring. And then election night, we were all in Chicago and just being in that crowd. It was…it was like nothing I’d ever known. In between was insanity, just travel and hotels and long hours, but, those big moments really made up for it, you know? Like, I had really been a part of something that mattered, and it wasn’t because of my family, and no one knew my brothers, or anything. It was something I did and it meant something.”
“So, law school.”
“Yeah. But…I got a good recommendation before I left.”
“What? He wrote your law school recommendation?”
“Yup. I probably shouldn’t admit that, huh? Not a good look.”
“Are you kidding, I’d have it framed.”
“Oh I do, believe me.” Jeannie took another bite and considered. “Sometimes — sometimes I think that’s why the police appealed to me, you know? Like you’re working for a good cause? Maybe I’m wrong about that and I’ll be bitter and jaded one day, but in the moment, it sort of felt the same.” Mark nodded at her, giving a half smile while he crunched a chip.
“I get it.”
“It’s hard to see that on patrol, but I guess, these last few days — I suppose, I don’t know, I started to realize that with you and Paco maybe I’m just where I should be.”
“Good. And, a very good burrito.” Mark smiled at her. Every day he liked Jeannie Hagen more; her balance, her smarts — she was an asset. She was also becoming a friend.
“You get all my best recs.”
“I appreciate it, you know how important my list is.” Jeannie chuckled a little. “We should head back.” Mark stacked their baskets now full of crumpled napkins.
“Actually, can you drop me in Hayes Valley on the way? I have an appointment at three.”
“An appointment?
“Therapy. Tuesday is usually my day off, so…”