King of Swords

'You didn't see a tall fat guy with a hat around here, did you?' Joe asked.

'No.'

joe went over to look at Neptune's work station. There was a colour photograph propped up under the mirror.

It showed five people - four women and a man in the middle — standing together, arms around each other's shoulders.

'This Neptune?'Joe asked, pointing to the man.

'That's him. See the way he smilin' there? Way he always is. I never seen him unhappy. Girl next to him?' Emmanuel pointed to a stunning, dark-skinned woman with long straight black hair. 'That's Crystal. Prolly the reason he's so happy. The woman at the end? That's his cousin Madeleine.'

Madeleine Cajuste was tall and stout with glasses and a shoulder-length perm. Emmanuel pointed to the other two women — an older one in a green blouse, and, beside her, a younger girl in a dark blue Port of Miami T-shirt. 'That's Neptune's aunt - Madeleine's mamma - with Neptune's cousin. I think the aunt goes by the name of Ruth. Way he said it sounded like “root”.'

'I'm gonna have to take this, if you don't mind,' Joe said.

'I'll make sure it comes back.'

'You already doin' more than the last guy was here,'

Emmanuel replied.

Joe smirked.

Then Emmanuel took a couple of steps back and tilted his head a little.

'Say? You that cop been on TV? 'Bout the County Court murder?'

'Yeah, that's me.'

'You used to live round here too, right?'

'I came up here, yeah.'

'In Pork 'n' Beans?'

'I look that young?'

Emmanuel laughed. Joe slipped the photograph into his notebook.

'Neptune got somethin' to do with that courthouse thang, right?'

'I doubt it,' Joe said. 'Different case.'

'That so?' Emmanuel frowned, disbelief in his voice.

'How come you ain't IDed the shooter then?'

'I can't comment —'

'On an ongoin' investigation. Spare me the man's line, brother. I knew the shooter '

'What?

'OK, I didn't know know him, but he came by here maybe two, three times, right when Neptune started.'

'They were friends?'

'They was cousins. That shooter is Madeleine's older brother, Jean. Jean Assad. They had different daddies. His daddy was some kinda Ay-rab.'

'How d'you recognize him?'

'Face was clear as day on TV. I'm good with faces. Part of the trade, you know. Faces, first names, names of the kids. Everyone needs a haircut some time.'

'Did you tell the police this?'

'Sure I did. Called them right away.'

'And?'

'They said thank you very much for your information, took my name and number. When I see you comin' in I figured it was 'bout that.'

'Did you talk to Jean Assad?'

'Didn't get beyond “Hello” and “See you again”. He talked to Neptune mostly. It was Neptune cut his hair.'

'Neptune talk about him much?'

'Not much. He mentioned one time that the guy was mixed up with some bad people.'

'Did he say who?'

'Haitians.'

'Any names?'

'Yeah, just the one.' Emmanuel smiled. 'Solomon someone.

I can't remember his last name. Guy had a real bad rep. Neptune was scared just talkin' 'bout him.'

'What kind of things did he say?'

'You know what a shapeshifter is?'

'Sure,' Joe said, 'that's like a person that can take on all different kinds of forms — human, animal, whatever. I've seen the movies.'

'That's what Neptune said this Solomon guy is. But you know how in Haydee they got all that voodoo they do?'

'So this guy Solomon is some kind of voodoo gangster?'

Joe smiled. 'I seen that movie too. It's called Live and Let Die:

'What I thought too.' Emmanuel laughed. 'I didn't say nothin' though, you know. Respect for the man's beliefs 'n'

all.'

'And Jean Assad was working for this guy?'

'Yeah. I don't know what he was into 2acdy, but one day Neptune said Jean had just upped and left town.'

'Right,' Joe said. And then he suddenly came back and killed Moyez in the courtroom, probably after he'd killed his family.

'Anything else you remember?'

'Not offhand.'

'You think of anything, call me here.'Joe wrote down his home number in his notebook and tore out the page. 'If you get the machine, leave a message. I'll get right back to you.'

'You think Neptune's dead, don'tcha?'

'It doesn't look good,'Joe said.

32

Raquel Fajima — day-shift manager at the forensics lab smiled broadly when she saw Max standing at her office door, miming a knock. They'd known each other for ten years and still laughed about the night they'd first met, when she was still working call-outs and Max was in uniform. A group of frat boys had blown themselves up in their car with a grenade, and Raquel and Max had had to look for ID in all the gore. Raquel had made a bunch of tasteless wisecracks while Max — still new to gruesome kinds of death — had been trying to hold on to the contents of his stomach because he didn't want to appear weak. Raquel had found a useable index finger stuck to an eight-track tape. She'd bagged the finger and, after she'd seen the tape was Deep Purple's In Rock, looked all around at the mess in the car and said, 'Serves you right,' which had made Max laugh so hard he'd puked anyway. She could have slipped into fairly cosy gear as lab manager, spending her time delegating, juggling and going to meetings; instead she played an active role in cases, working on samples that came in, writing them up and testifying in court.

Max and Raquel had remained friends over the years, occasionally meeting up for all-night drinking and bitching sessions, but these were few and far between now she was married and had a two-year-old son.

It was 8.15 in the morning. Raquel was drinking a cup of jasmine tea at her desk. Max could tell she hadn't been in the lab long because she wasn't wearing her white coat, her dark brown curly hair was still down to her shoulders, and she was seated. Every time he saw her he usually had to

compete for her attention with the microscope she was hunched over.

They kissed each other on either cheek and Max sat on the chair opposite her desk, which was completely clear of everything bar a phone and lamp. All the shelves were full of files and thick leather-bound medical books, and there were more files on the windowsill. She had no photographs or personal items of any kind anywhere in the office. Here she was all about work. Her personal life stayed at home.