On one particularly brutal night neighbours had called the police and one of the investigating officers was Duke Weems, a kind, sympathetic ex-football coach who was twenty-five years older than Hazel. Soon after the beating Weems found her a foster home with a West End grocer and after that was a frequent visitor. After two years of courting they were married. Hazel was seventeen and Duke was forty-two. Two years later be dropped dead of a heart attack chasing a purse snatcher through Five Points.
A year after that Hazel passed the police examination and was inducted into the force as a meter maid. It took her seven more years to make the regular force and another two to become a third-class detective, one of the first women investigators on the force.
Duke’s ex-partner, Arch Livingston, bad talked Hazel into taking the police exam and had worked tirelessly with her to prepare her for it. It was Livingston too who had fought to get her transferred to the uniformed squad and then badgered his superiors until she was permitted to take the exam for detectives.
If Livingston had asked her to cut off her nose and send it to him for Christmas she would have done it.
She lived on the South Side of Atlanta in a predominantly black neighbourhood, her small, tidy two-bedroomed house the kind they once called a bungalow. There was an island at the end of her street that was pruned, plucked, and planted religiously by the Parton Place Garden Club. Hazel was not a member.
Hazel met them at the door and sized up Domino with the eye of a widow studying a prospective daughter-in-law. No hat, a roughouse shearling coat, blue jeans, and scruffy boots. She liked what she saw.
‘These two ain’t bullying you, are they, honey?’ she said, steering Domino into the house.
‘I’m not sure yet,’ Domino said and smiled.
‘If they give you any slit, you just tell Hazel. I’ve known this one since he was a rookie directing traffic on Five Points and this one here, I’ve just seen him around, but all he’s good for is raisin’ hell and drivin’ the captain bug- house. You caught yourself quite a pair, lady. I’ll put some coffee on.’
‘I’ll help,’ Livingston said and followed her Into the kitchen.
‘Look here, Hazel,’ Livingston told her. ‘1 got you fixed up with a room at a first-class hotel. Just for a couple of days. Won’t cost you a dime.’
She turned on him.
‘Move outs my own house! What the hell you talkin’ about? You got free board. Why don’t you go to the hotel?’
‘Too much traffic. Too public. ‘This lady’s on somebody’s hit list.’
‘What did she do?’
‘I don’t think she knows. And that’s for real. T don’t think she can tell us, ‘cause I don’t think she’s figured it out herself yet.’
‘Well, anyway I ain’t goin’ to no Lysol-smellin’ hotel. What the hell, Archie, I ain’t the Avon Lady; I’m a cop just like you. If there’s trouble, I’m as good as anybody else downtown. Don’t come at me with that macho shit.’
‘It ain’t macho shit, lady. We’re gonna be in the middle of the goddamndest interdepartmental ass-hittin’ you ever saw. You want to get caught in the middle of that?
‘Between you and who?’
‘Right now I’d say between us and Riley and Jaspers and D’Agastino.’
‘God damn, you do things in a big way.’
‘You get my point. You get out and when It hits the fan all you got to know is that I asked to use your place for a cover for a coupla days.’
‘It ain’t any of my business, Sergeant, but ain’t you been in enough shit through the years? You got to stick your foot in it again?’
‘Ain’t my gig, this time. I come along for the ride. He’s a young fella. Needs all the help he can get.’
‘Good. In that case I’ll just buy a ticket and jump aboard, too. Now get outa my way while I make some coffee.’
Sharky carried Domino’s suitcase into the guest bedroom and put it on a chair near the door. The room, modest but comfortable, was quite a contrast to Domino’s apartment.
‘Is the place okay?’ Sharky said.
‘It’s fine,’ Domino said. ‘What a nice lady she is but... why is she doing this for me?’
‘She’s doing it for Arch, although if she didn’t like you she probably would have thrown us out. She’s a detective. Her husband was one of the first black cops in the city. He died a couple of years ago.’
‘How sad. She seems so young to be a widow.’
‘Yeah, well, that happens.’
‘Is that the way you think? “Oh, well, it happens”?’
‘I can’t imagine what it’s like to be married to a cop,’ Sharky said. ‘I suppose there are realities you either accept and live with or you end it.’
‘Or it gets ended for you,’ she said.
‘That, too.’
Domino sat down on the bed. ‘I’m tired,’ she said. ‘There are a couple of more questions. ..‘
‘I thought it was going to be my turn next,’ she said. She stared at him, boring in with those green eyes, and Sharky felt the back of his neck warming up. He was moved by her vulnerability and her spirit. He would like to have said something to her but he was afraid it would come out wrong. Instead he said, ‘You want to know about the elevator, hunh?’
She nodded.
‘I could lie about it, you know. I’m very good at that. It’s something you learn on the street.’
‘Oh, I know how good you are at it. You sucked me in beautifully. But I thought we could make a fresh start — and both tell the truth this time.’
‘Okay. We were bugging your apartment. I was monitoring the tapes.’
There it was, quick, to the point, and probably deadly. But her reaction surprised him. She wasn’t mad or indignant or even embarrassed. She simply looked at him rather whimsically and said, Why?’
‘Did you know Neil Dantzler and Tiffany were involved in blackmail?’
‘I don’t believe that.’
‘Oh, you can believe it. That part we’re sure of. They shook down a Texas oilman for fifty grand.’
‘Tiffany?’
Sharky nodded.
‘Then it was Neil. He made her do it. She wasn’t like that.’
‘It doesn’t make any difference.. They did it.’
‘And you think I was part of it?’
Sharky shook his head. ‘Nope, don’t think that at all. But we had to find out for sure.’
‘And, uh, how many of these bugs did you have in my place?’
‘Enough. I could bear everything in that apartment but the plants growing.’
‘How long were you, uh, up there?
‘Long enough. Since that night Confucius came to dinner.’
‘Ohhh.’ She sucked her bottom lip between her teeth and looked at him and then shrugged. ‘What can I say?
‘You can tell me who he was. That’s one of the questions. We’ve got to start someplace. Somebody wants you dead.’ Victor? she thought. It couldn’t be him. And revealing his name might eventually involve Donald, possibly destroy his career for nothing.
‘It wasn’t him. He’s from out of the country. Germany. He went back to Europe the next day.’
There, that was easy, she thought, as long as he doesn’t lean on it. She changed the subject.
‘Would It help my image any if I told you I’m going to retire?’
‘It Won’t change anything,’ Sharky said softly. ‘Hell, I’m not here to judge you. What you do is your business.’
She cocked her head to one side and smiled. ‘Do you mean that?’
‘Sure. We’re being honest, remember?’
‘Thank you.’
‘I felt like a goddamn eavesdropper anyhow.’ He hesitated, then changed the subject. ‘You’re sure you never heard of Angelo Scardi or Howard Burns?’
‘Who is this Burns?’
‘It’s Scardi’s moniker. . . alias. Scardi was very big in the news about seven years ago.’
‘Oh, bell,’ she said, ‘seven years ago I was seventeen and living in Mudville, Utah, and all I cared about was Warren Beatty and rock and roll.’