"I don't want to know his name." Billys voice quivering. "I understand," Matty said, thinking, Then move to Greenland. "I don't want his name in my head." "No." "I'm not going to ask to see him," Billy said. "That wouldn't be a good idea." "He said he did it?" "Yeah." Matty sipped his third drink. Lit a cigarette. "Plus we have his partner and the gun." "Why?" Billy scowled as if looking into the sun. "Why'd he do it?" Matty expelled a shred of tobacco from the tip of his tongue. "Sounds like a robbery gone bad. Sounds like what we figured from the jump." Billy did an abrupt half-turn to hide an anarchic gout of tears, then turned back. "Is he sorry?" "Yeah," Matty lied, "he is." They sat in silence for a moment listening to the Chi-Lites coming in from the front-room jukebox, the half-a-homeless-guy mopping the floor out there entertaining himself. "So what'll happen to him." Billy asked. "He's seventeen, so he'll be charged as a juvenile, but he'll get the big-boy treatment. The DA'll go for hard time, felony murder in the commission of a robbery, twenty-five years automatic." "Huh," Billy breathed.
