‘I didn’t fuck her,’ said Kenney, his voice a soft wail, ‘and I didn’t kill her.’ He was rocking back and forth, his arms wrapped tightly around his chest.
‘Well, why don’t you tell us exactly what you did do, Tobin? Because I can promise you, one way or the other, we’re gonna find out, and when we do, we’re gonna fry your ass.’
‘I didn’t kill her. I didn’t kill anyone. I’ve never killed anyone. She came over and she gave me a blow job and then she left and that’s all there was to it! That’s all! She gave me a blow job!’
McCabe was about to speak again, but Maggie caught his eye. She gave him a look that said, ‘Back off.’ McCabe nodded and moved to the end of the deck. He leaned back against the wooden railing and waited. Kenney was still rocking forward and back in his chair, still holding himself.
Maggie spoke softly. ‘Tobin? Why don’t you just tell us straight out what did happen that night.’
Kenney glanced over at McCabe. ‘Don’t worry about him,’ Maggie said. ‘Just look at me. Look at my eyes. He won’t ask you any more questions. Just tell me what happened between you and Katie so we can finish this up and we can leave you alone and you can get some rest.’
The assistant girls’ soccer coach sat there for what seemed like a long time, saying nothing. Then he began to speak. His voice was flat. Toneless. Without affect.
‘After the movies, I picked up a pizza from Torrelli’s, like I said. I got home about ten. I got a beer from the fridge and ate a couple of slices. I had a bunch of papers to grade. I usually grade papers on the sofa. I put the graded ones on the coffee table, the ungraded ones next to me on the couch. That’s how I organize them.
‘A few minutes after I started grading, the doorbell rang, and it was Katie. She was all sweetness and “Gee, can I come in and talk for a while?” But she looked a little weird, like she’d been crying. Like she was stressed out. So I let her in. I asked her what the matter was. She sees I’m drinking a beer and says, “Can I have a beer, too?” I tell her she’s too young, that we could both get in trouble. Then she takes my hand and starts stroking it and says, “Oh, come on, Mr. Kenney.” She actually called me Mr. Kenney. “Please. I’m not going to tell anybody.”
‘Right there, I should have put her in the car and driven her straight home, but I didn’t. I was feeling lonely, and one part of me wanted her to stick around. So, like a jerk, I got her a beer. She takes a swig, and we sit down on the couch where I was grading the papers. She’s wearing this tiny little miniskirt and it’s riding up over her crotch. She asks me if I think she’s attractive. I say yeah, she’s very attractive. Then she asks me if I think she’s sexy. I don’t answer – but I don’t get up, either. Then she says, “If I were your girlfriend, would you go screwing around with other girls?” I say, “No, I wouldn’t.” Then I say, “Get up, I’ve got to take you home.”
‘But she doesn’t get up. She lies down and puts her head in my lap. She takes my hand and she puts it on her breast, and I’m thinking to myself, “Holy shit, what’s this all about?”
‘She asks me again if I think she’s sexy. By this time, I’ve got an incredible hard-on, and I know she can feel it ’cause she’s got her head in my lap. God help me, I really do want to fuck her, but I know I can’t. So I ask her what happened with Ronnie Sobel. He’s her boyfriend. She says Ronnie’s an asshole and she doesn’t give a shit about Ronnie and don’t I think she’s sexy? I say sure she’s sexy, but I’m a teacher and she’s a student and we shouldn’t be even thinking stuff like this, but then she rolls onto her front and I’m looking down and she’s unzipping my fly.
‘Look, Margaret, or whatever your name is, I know I sound like a jerk. Your buddy over there thinks I’m worse than a jerk. Maybe he’s right. I’m twenty-six years old and she’s sixteen. Even worse, I’m her coach – her teacher – and there she is, opening my zipper. I’ve got this fucking hard-on that’s ready to explode. Then she’s got her mouth on it and boom, like in ten seconds flat, it’s all over. I’m coming all over her face and all over my pants and the couch and whether you believe it or not, Margaret, I feel like the biggest asshole in the world. You know something else? I still do. But I did not fuck her and I did not kill her.’ Kenney just sat there for a while, looking nowhere, saying nothing.
‘What happened next?’ asked Maggie.
Kenney looked at her. ‘She left.’