“Do you owe him money?”
“No way.”
“Yes she do.” The boyfriend joined the fray, tattered clothes spilling over his arms, tangling around his feet as he tried to walk. “She done took my weed. Thirty dollars worth.”
“Do you have his weed?” Flint asked, bland as a schoolmaster.
“No, I don’t,” she said, indignant.
“Yes you do,” the boyfriend screamed.
“I ain’t got it,” she screamed back. “I done smoked it.” I thought the boyfriend would weep.
Flint, who had listened to all of this stone-faced, raised his hand and they both shut up. He pointed down the sidewalk to the left and spoke to the boyfriend:
“Drop all of her stuff right now and get yourself movin’ down the street in the direction I’m pointing. It’s over, understand? If I hear of you coming back and trying something, you know what I’ll do. Right?”
“Yes, officer.”
“Then be on your way.”
Meekly, the boyfriend dumped the clothes and headed off. But the woman still had some unspent fight in her.
“Officer,” she said. “He done got everything all wet, dumpin’ it that way.
Flint pointed down the street to the right. “You heard me. It’s all over. Pick up your stuff and beat it.”
She muttered, but she did as he said.
We walked on.
“I’m impressed,” I said. “Solon couldn’t have handled that better.”
“Who’s Solon?”
“Never mind.”
We walked back up to Latonya’s corner. There was a woman strutting up and down the street in a silver Weingart poncho, flashing passing cars, snuggling up to the derelicts who walked by her. She was skinny. No, she was bones in a push-up bra. There was so little flesh on her legs, I couldn’t see how she stayed atop her spindly, rundown heels. The weather was still a little drizzly, and no one seemed interested in stopping. She yelled obscenities at every car or bum that spurned her advances and passed on by.
“A fifty-one-fifty?” I asked.
Flint grinned at me as he impelled me by the elbow. “That’s our girl.”
“Latonya?” Police or not, I didn’t think Flint was enough protection to keep me safe from this creature. She looked contagious. “Hey, Latonya,” he called.
She wheeled, saw us, completely disregarded me, thank God, and came running up to Flint.
“Mikey, Mikey,” she squealed as she rubbed herself against him. I hung back. Mike turned and grinned nastily at me. I thrust my hands deep into my pockets and just glared back.
“What brings you down to this ‘hood, Mikey?” she crooned. “You come to see me?”
“You left word at the Weingart that you knew where to find Caesar.”
“Maybe I do,” she said coyly. “And maybe I don’t.”
Mike handed Latonya a brown paper bag with a bottle in it. “Brought you something for your trouble,” he said.
She tucked the bottle away in her clothes somewhere without looking at it. “My favorite, Mikey. You’re so nice to your lady.”
“You taking us to Caesar?” he asked.
“What did I hear about a twenty-dollar bill?”
“The usual terms, baby,” he said. “Payment on delivery.”
“You just come with me, sugar.”
It was all I could do to walk behind them. I couldn’t stand it that he let her get so close. I was six feet away and I could smell the dimestore cologne and eau de Thunderbird that enveloped her. All the way down the block, Latonya cuddled Mike’s arm and wiggled against him. I couldn’t hear what she was whispering to him, but he was laughing a lot.
Latonya gave me a malevolent glance, and I flipped her off. Ordinarily, I would have recognized the bile at the back of my throat as jealousy. I just didn’t want to admit it to myself, and I hated myself for being such a twit.
She turned down Sixth Street and pointed out a dumpster behind a sweatshop.
“There he is,” she said.
“Show me,” Flint said.
When she started to go behind the dumpster, I shied back further and scoped out an escape route. It was really dark behind there. Flint hung in with her, so I swallowed my better judgment and went along with them. I didn’t want to look like a wimp after all the hard talking I had done to get Flint to bring me along. Besides, I thought he needed some looking after.
The wind whipping down the street was bitter. Behind the dumpster, there was some shelter. We came upon a silver poncho-wrapped bundle lying on the pavement. Latonya toed the bundle.
“That’s him,” she said.
“You’re sure?” I asked.
“Damn sure,” she huffed, offended. “Fool say, ‘Do me now, I pay you tomorrow.’ This whore ain’t takin’ none of that shit. Uh uh. That’s Caesar, you be sure. He smells like dog.”
Mike slipped her something and patted her back. She strutted off down Sixth Street toward San Pedro, her poncho flapping open to display her fleshless wares.
“Friend of yours, huh?” I said.
“Be nice,” he admonished. “She gave you what you wanted.”
“Are you sure?”
“We’ll see.” Flint squatted down and gave the bundle a good shake. “Caesar, we want to talk to you.”
Caesar’s voice was muffled by the stuff covering his head. “Go way, man.”
“I said, we want to talk to you.”
“What I say? Go ‘way.”
Flint chuckled and gave him a rough push. “Did I forget to say, this is the police? Get out of there, and get out of there, now. You know how we are.”
Caesar’s face appeared out of the silver poncho. I could not have described him to anyone, though I recognized him as soon as I saw him again. He looked up, first at Mike, then at me.
“Am I dreamin’?” he asked.
“You’re asking me?” Mike laughed.
Caesar grinned. “Hello, pretty lady. Nice to see you again.”
“Hello, Caesar,” I said. I knelt down beside Mike. Latonya had been right; the man reeked of dog, among other things. And Mike now reeked of Latonya.
Caesar wiped his nose on the edge of his blanket. “What you doin’ down in this ‘hood?”
“I came to talk to you,” I said. “Last night you gave me a note.”
“Yes I did. Doc give the note to me, say here’s a message.” “Do you remember where you saw her, and about what time that was?”
I don’t have me no watch,” he shrugged. “It were still day-light. I’m startin’ to think about dinner.”
“Where did you see the doc?” Flint asked.
“I’m hangin’ by the wishin’ well, you know? Down there in Chinatown?” He spoke in a fast and steady stream. “Sometimes I can hook me some coin, get me somethin’ to eat. So I’m standin’ there, an’ I see the doc a comin’. She runnin’ a little, you know? Then all of a sudden she stop, like she forget somethin’. She start to go back the way she come. Then she see me. She call me over, she write me this paper. She say, ‘This is a message for my sister, go pin it on the door up at my house.’ I say, ‘Yes, ma’am.’ She give me a dinner ticket for the Center here. Then she go on her way.”
“Where did she go?” I asked.
“Nowhere. She just hang there, by the wishin’ well.”
“Dr. Duchamps gave you the note and paid you,” Flint said. “But you didn’t put the note on her door.”
I mean to, officer. But see, this dude I know, he see what go down, an’ he say, ‘Give you a dollar for that dinner ticket.’ I figure on eatin’ at the mission anyhow, so I say, what you say, man? We trade, dollar for dinner. I was goin’ up to the doc’s house, like she say. But first I stop, get me a short dog to tide me over. Then I guess I forget ‘bout the note for a while. I don’t remember ‘bout it ‘til I hear the doc gets herself shot up. I think to myself, maybe the note mean somethin’. And I don’t want it in my pocket no mo’. Like I say, I’m goin’ up to her house, when I runs into you, pretty lady. An’ I gives you the message, the true words, don’ I? Anyway, I figure that’s way better than pinnin’ it on no door. Man, it be rainin’ hard.”