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“Only Harry Belafonte,” Carella said.

“Yes, well, that’s canned calypso. Real calypso is you make up your own stuff. Down in the islands, you sing another man’s calypso, they look down on you. George made up his own calypso, the way you spose to, the way it was in the beginning. You know how calypso started? With the slaves down there, man. They weren’t allowed to talk to each other while they were workin, so they used to sing out all the gossip, fool Whitey that way. George sang the new calypso. Social comment. Protest. Talkin about the scene. He was the king, man, he named himself right. He was King George. Three, four years from now, he’da been a big star. Man, I don’t know why this had to happen, I just don’t know why the hell this had to happen.”

The room went silent. Carella was suddenly aware of the rain drumming against the window. Somewhere on the street, a horn honked in what was clearly marked hospital zone.

“When you say social comment...”

“Yeah.”

“And protest...”

“Yeah.”

“Could he have annoyed anyone tonight?... Is it possible...?”

“Everybody, man. I know what you mean, and I’m tellin you everybody. That’s the whole point of calypso. To get people irritated, to start them thinkin about a situation.”

“People like who?”

“Everybody from the mayor on down.”

“He sang about the mayor tonight?”

“He sang about the mayor all the time. That was one of his biggest numbers, the one on the mayor.”

“Who else did he sing about tonight?”

“Why?” Harding asked, and grinned. “Don’t you think the mayor coulda been the one who killed him?”

“You see where I’m going—”

“Sure, I see where you’re goin. George done a song about cops, and he done one about rats and garbage, and he done another one about a neighborhood pusher, and one about a black girl peddlin her ass to white guys, and he done one about straightenin hair and usin skin bleaches... Man, he done the whole scene. That’s calypso.”

“What neighborhood?”

“Huh? Oh. Uptown. Diamondback.”

“In this song... did he name a specific pusher?”

“I don’t know who he was singin about,” Harding said.

“Well, you heard the song...”

“If a man says someone’s the mayor, then you got to know he’s singin about the mayor.”

“How about if a man says someone’s a pusher?”

“Then you know he’s singin about somebody’s a pusher.”

Which pusher?”

“Who knows?” Harding said. “A pusher, that’s all.”

“Could any pusher in Diamondback...”

“I don’t know who mighta taken offense or not.”

Was the song offensive?”

“George’s songs were social comment. He was telling what it’s like to be black in a white world.”

“Would you say he was singing about a specific pusher?”

“Not that I know of.”

“Anyone who, for example, might have taken offense and killed him?” Carella paused. “And tried to kill you as well?”

“I don’t know who that might’ve been.”

“Do you represent any musicians who are addicts?”

“Nope.”

“Was George an addict?”

“Nope. Smoked a little pot every now and then, but who don’t?”

“Who supplied him?”

“Oh, come on, man, you can buy pot anywhere in this city.”

“I know. But who’d George buy it from? Was he dealing with anyone on a steady basis?”

“I don’t think so, we never talked about it. Who talks about buyin pot? That’s the same as talkin about brushin your teeth.”

“I’m trying to find out whether this song about a pusher—”

“I know what you’re tryin to find out.”

“—might have identified a specific pusher George was dealing with.”

“To my knowledge, he did not have anybody like that. He wasn’t a pothead, he just smoked every now and then, same as everybody else I know. Pot’s legal now.”

“Not entirely. And dealing pot isn’t.”

“Even so, the song was about hard drugs. About a guy pushin heroin to young black kids.”

“George know anybody like that?”

“If you live in Diamondback, you got to know a hundred people like that.”

“Personally? Did he know anyone like that personally?”

“You ever been to Diamondback?”

“Yes,” Carella said. “I’ve been there.”

“Well, everybody up there knows who the pushers are.”

“But not everybody sang about them.” Carella said.

“I think you’re on the wrong track,” Harding said. “I don’t think George’s song put the finger on anybody. Not so’s he’d come after George and kill him. Anyway, I didn’t sing about anybody, and the guy tried to kill me, too.”

“He may have thought you’d seen him, and could identify him.”

“Maybe,” Harding said.

“These other musicians you represent. You said none of them are addicts. Were any of them messing even casually with hard drugs?”

“Nobody messes casually with hard drugs,” Harding said.

“Any of them experimenting?”

“You’re still on this pusher kick, huh?”

“I’m still on it,” Carella said.

“Why? Cause George was a musician?”

“That’s part of it.”

“What’s the other part?”

“Money. There’s a lot of money in drugs. If George was breaking somebody’s rice bowl, that could’ve been reason enough for murder.”

“I told you I don’t think the song fingered anybody in particular. It was about corruptin our kids, that’s all, our black kids.”

“These other musicians you represent—”

“Just one other client.”

“Who’s that?”

“A group called Black Monday.”

“Rock?”

“Rock.”

“Any rivalry there?”

“Between George and the group? None. They’re rock, he was calypso. That’s worlds apart, man.”

“This black hooker turning tricks for white men—”

“That’s all black hookers.”

“But not a specific hooker who might have been identified in George’s song, huh?”

“Not that I know of.”

“Could the person who shot you have been a woman?”

“Could’ve been, I don’t know.”

“But you said it was a man.”

“I figured somebody usin a gun had to be a man.”

“But you don’t have any idea who that man might have been?”

“None at all.”

“How close were you and George?”

“Close,” Harding said, and held up his right hand, the index finger and third finger pressed tightly together.

“Would he have told you if he’d received any threatening letters or phone calls?”

“He’da told me.”

Did he mention anything like that?”

“Not a word.”

“Did he ever use any musicians when he—”

“Just himself and his own guitar.”

“Then he wouldn’t have owed money to any sidemen or—”

“Never used any sidemen. Not recently anyway. He used to have a band one time, but he’s been operating as a single for the past six years.”