“What are you going to do?” Mason asked after Kate left.
“Prepare Bonnie for her cross. Did Blues get you what you needed?”
“He got me an address. That’s where I’m headed. I’ll let you know how it pans out.”
Claire sighed. “This is a hell of a way to make a living.”
Mason laughed. “You know a better way?”
“No,” she said, smiling. “And I can’t imagine there is one.”
**
Mason pulled up in front of a well-maintained house on the east side, a sign on the corner declaring it a neighborhood watch area. The house was in the middle of a block of other well-maintained homes, no boarded-up windows and no vacant lots filled with garbage. It was dusk and the front porch of every house was lit, making the street glow.
He rang the bell and a man answered the door. He was white haired and solidly built, though his belly was losing the fight to age and gravity.
“I’m Lou Mason.”
“Frank Canfield. Grace told me to expect you. Come on in.”
Mason stepped inside. A short entryway led past the dining room on his right and opened into a family room. The furnishings were old, simple, and inviting, the walls adorned with family photographs. The kitchen was adjacent to the family room; a lone figure sat at the table, back turned.
“Gloria Temple?” Mason whispered.
“In the flesh.”
“Where’s she been hiding?”
“Little Rock. She’s got people down there.”
“Why’d she go and why’d she come back?”
“She won’t say. Least not to Grace.”
“How long has she been here?”
“Couple of days.”
“I’d like to see her room before I talk to her.”
“Okay by me.”
Frank led Mason to a bedroom at the top of the stairs. Clothes were strewn across the bed. A purse and a cell phone were on the nightstand. Mason picked up the phone.
“Gloria’s?”
“Not ours.”
“You got a computer?”
“Yeah. It’s in the other spare bedroom. Grace uses it for an office.”
Mason picked up the phone and followed Frank into Grace’s office. He took a small, soft leather case out of his pocket and opened it, removing a cord to sync the phone to Grace’s laptop. After connecting the phone to the laptop, he inserted another device into a USB port on the computer.
“What’s that?” Frank asked.
“It’s a recovery device that will let me download everything on Gloria’s phone.”
“You always carry that kind of stuff around with you?”
“Only when a friend of mine thinks I might need it. This will probably take fifteen or twenty minutes. I’d appreciate it if you’d stay here until it’s done. All you have to do is unplug everything, put my gear back in the case, and put Gloria’s phone back where it was. I’ll get the case from you before I leave.”
“I can do that.”
Mason nodded and headed for the kitchen. He stood in the family room for a moment watching Gloria. She was staring out the window, not moving.
“Hi, how ya doin’?” Mason said as he took a seat at the table.
Gloria studied him with eyes narrowed and suspicious, her mouth tight, before looking away. Mason waited for her to say something, knowing how hard it is to remain silent. She caved after ten minutes.
“Whaddya want wit’ me?”
“To talk to you.”
She was in her late teens, maybe early twenties, with a modest bust on a thin frame. Her hair was done in short, tight curls. She was wearing skinny blue jeans and a black T-shirt. And she smelled like she hadn’t bathed in a while.
“’Bout what?”
“Dwayne Reed.”
“What about him?”
“For starters, he’s dead.”
“I know that.”
“How’d you find out?”
“Heard about it, that’s all.”
“What do you know about how it happened?”
She wiped her nose on her arm. “I don’t know nuthin’ ’bout it.”
“Why’d you go to Little Rock?”
No answer.
“Why’d you come back?”
No answer. Mason stared at her, waiting her out, minutes passing.
“What?” she said.
“Look, Gloria. I don’t have time for this crap where I ask you questions and you pretend not to know the answers. There’s only one reason you’re here with a roof over your head instead of OD’ing in a piss-soaked crack house, and that’s because Grace Canfield thought you deserved a break. So show some gratitude and talk to me.”
Grace leaned back in her chair, arms crossed over her chest. “I ain’t axed that bitch to do shit for me, and I ain’t got nuthin’ to say to you, so why don’t you get your white ass outta my face.”
“Because I’m representing a woman who’s on trial for killing Dwayne Reed and the prosecutor has listed you as a witness and I want to know why.”
“Then you oughta be axin’ him, ’cause that shit don’t mean nuthin’ to me.”
“Then why did you run off to Little Rock after Dwayne died? What were you afraid of?”
She stood, fists balled, arms tight against her sides. “I ain’t ’fraid of nuthin’!”
Mason got up and snapped a photograph of Gloria with his phone. “My advice, Gloria-make that the last lie you tell.”
Chapter Forty-Five
Rossi was in his car parked across the street from the public defender’s office. It had been eight hours since he’d gotten off the witness stand, and he was beginning to wonder if Grace Canfield was going to spend the night at her desk. He opened his phone and called Gardiner Harris.
“Anything happening at your end?” he asked.
“Nothing. I sent Trumbo inside a couple of hours ago. He said Blues was tending bar. He hung around for a few minutes and left.”
“Which door did you take?”
“The alley. There’s only one car parked there, so I figure it’s got to be his. The guy is staying put. How about you?”
“Same here. It doesn’t make sense.”
“What doesn’t make sense?” Harris asked.
“I’m sure Blues and Grace Canfield are working together on this Gloria Temple thing. First I see them coming out of Chouteau Courts together and then I see them talking on the street. She writes something down, probably the address where she’s stashed Gloria, and gives it to Blues. So why isn’t one of them babysitting her?”
“You mean instead of keeping our asses nailed down while we wait for them to do something or go somewhere?”
Rossi slammed his hand on the steering wheel. “Motherfucker! How could I be so fucking stupid? That’s exactly what they’re doing!”
“What are you talking about?”
“Blues knows we’re looking for Gloria. Grace Canfield must have found her. Blues saw me outside Chouteau Courts and again outside the courthouse today. He probably made you and Trumbo and told Grace to look out for me. He figures that we’re waiting for Grace or him to lead us to Gloria, so they hole up while someone else takes care of her and we sit here with our thumbs up our butts.”
“Who?”
“My guess? Lou Mason, the disbarred member of the defense team. Shit!”
“What do you want to do?”
“Let’s work this out. My CI said he saw Gloria at a crack house. If Grace Canfield found Gloria, she wouldn’t leave her there and she wouldn’t take her back to Virginia Sprague.”
“Because she knows we’re watching the apartment.”
“Right. So she has to put Gloria someplace where she’s not only safe but will stay put. How many places does that leave?”
“Hell if I know,” Harris said.
“Not many, and I’ll bet one of them is Grace Canfield’s house.”
“Why?”
“I checked her out. Her husband is a retired firefighter. Got a couple of medals for running into burning buildings and saving lives. Guy like that would tie Gloria down if that’s what it took.”
“Sounds like he’s the perfect babysitter,” Harris said.
**
Frank Canfield met Mason at the bottom of the stairs.
“Here’s your spy kit,” he said. “Did she tell you anything?”
Mason shook his head. “Maybe Grace can get something out of her.”