“Yes it was,” I said. “How did you recognize me? I don’t remember ever meeting you.”
He smiled. “The doc, she puts on the TV at the mission all the time, and she say, ‘See her, she’s my baby sister.’ I know you real well. You ever try makin’ some comedy? You show some sad shit on that TV, man.”
Flint laughed.
“Something to think about,” I said. I doubted whether I could get funding for anything funnier than war or famine.
“After the doc gave you the note,” Flint said, “did you happen to see her again, maybe down the street or inside a shop?”
“No, officer, that were the very last time,” Caesar said, shaking his head sadly. “I go back to the wishin’ well later, lookin’ to hook me some coin, like I say. She be gone.
“How much later?” I asked.
Caesar shrugged. “Long’s it takes to have me a short one.”
“Ten minutes?” Flint asked. “Twenty minutes?”
“More like a half hour,” Caesar said.
Caesar had filled in some of Emily’s last minutes for us, but it wasn’t nearly enough. At the time Emily walked down to the wishing well for her mysterious rendezvous, I was probably either on my way from the airport or sitting on her front stoop. I couldn’t help wondering how differently things might have gone down if Caesar had just delivered his note on time.
Caesar emerged from his silver cocoon to sit crosslegged beside us, putting his face on a level with ours. His breath was indescribable. Flint’s eyes watered and I had to turn my head to get some fresh air. It took a strong stomach, but I hung in there.
“When you saw her,” I asked, “was she alone?”
“Mos’ly. People come by say, hey Doc. But it start rainin’, so not many people were around.”
Flint held a handkerchief over his face. “Did you hear any-thing like a gunshot that afternoon, see anything out of the ordinary?”
“Might be,” Caesar smiled. I don’ hear nothin’. But someone else be lookin’ for the doc ‘bout then.”
“When?” I asked.
“Back then. That same day.”
“Who was it?”
“Some dude.”
“Some dude, huh?” Flint squeezed my hand. “When you saw this man, could it have been around four o’clock?”
” ‘Bout then. Before dinner time.”
“This was when you went to the wishing well the second time. After the doc was gone.”
“Like I say.”
I was excited. “The four o’clock date,” I said, to Flint.
“Could be.” Flint literally held me down. “Let’s hear him out.”
Flint turned from me, back to Caesar. “Did you know the man? Someone from the neighborhood, maybe?”
“Coulda’ been,” Caesar said. There was a crafty look on his grizzled face. “That was some time ago. I can’t exac’ly remember.”
“It was only yesterday,” I said.
Flint held out a five-dollar bill. “Maybe a dollar-and-a-dime will help your memory.”
“Dollar-an’-a-dime, ease my mind.” Two fingers came out of the blanket and hooked the money. “Like I say, I never seen him before.”
“Describe him,” Flint said.
Caesar thought for a moment. “Like the doc. You know, tall dude. Skinny nose.”
“Dark or fair?”
“It’s rainin’. He wear a hat. But he no brother.”
“How old do you think he was?”
He shrugged. He smiled. “Old enough to be out walkin’ by hisself.”
“Okay,” Flint sighed. “Anything else you can tell us?”
“Maybe it’s worth somethin’?” Caesar asked slyly.
Flint shook his head. I already gave you enough for a dollarand-a-dime and a forty ouncer to chase it. If you want to try for a few dummy bumps, keep at it.”
Caesar rubbed his head and grinned up at Flint. “I already got me enough dummy bumps, officer.”
“Then tell me what you know.”
I tell you this. This tall dude, he come up to me an’ he say, do I know the doe? I say she done left already. Nex’ thing, some lady come around, kinds’ hang there by the wishin’ well, lookin’ at him like maybe he want a date. The dude, he walk up to her, real cautious. He call her by some number. He jus’ say, ‘M.’ Like a question, you know, ‘M?’ Like that.”
“What did she do?”
“She say a little prayer. She say, ‘Dear Lord, it’s true.’ Then she take off runnin’.”
“Where did she run to?” Flint asked.
I don’ know. None of my business. I jus’ ke’p on walkin’.”
“What did she look like?”
“She have on a raincoat with a hat on it. Can’t see much.”
“You sure it was a woman?”
“Yeah.” Caesar ran his long, pink tongue over his lips. “She walk the walk. You know.”
I looked up at Flint. “Who do you think?”
He shook his head. “We’ll talk about it later.”
Flint stood up and brought me with him. He reached into his pocket, found some change, then dropped a quarter and his card onto the sidewalk in front of Caesar’s nest.
“You put that coin in your pocket with my number,” he said to Caesar, heavy menace in his voice. “That’s for the telephone. If you start remembering things, or if you hear something, you call me. I already gave you enough money to buy yourself some comfort for the night. If I find out-and you know I will-that you held out because you used that pissy little quarter to buy a pull on someone’s bottle, I’m going to come back and pull your chitlins out of your ears. Got it?”
Caesar cringed, but there was still a simpery smile on his face. “Yes, officer.”
Mike held tightly onto my arm. “Another thing. Better find another place to sleep tonight. If we found you, whoever shot the doc might find you, too.”
“But I didn’ see nothin’,” Caesar protested.
“The shooter doesn’t know that,” I said.
Caesar was on his feet, gathering his meager possessions about him.
“Come with us,” Flint said. “We’ll drop you off in Chinatown. Maybe I can persuade your friend at the Chevron to let you in.”
Away from the dumpster, the night was bitter cold. Trailing his blankets and his poncho, Caesar followed us back to Mike’s car on San Pedro. It took some persuading-he said the last time he was in a police car he was being booked on a fifty-one-fifty charge that got him seventy hours of detention-but he finally climbed into the back seat.
We left him at the Chevron station, amid a slobbery reunion with his dog, and drove up Hill Street to Emily’s apartment with all the car windows rolled down, in spite of the cold.
“Are you coming in?” I asked.
Flint looked up at the three-story building. “Why do you ask?”
“Let me think,” I said. I crossed my arms and slouched down into the seat. “How about, Oh, Mike, I’m so scared to go up there all alone. Will you come and turn on the lights for me?”
“Looks to me like the lights are already on.”
“If you’re going to be difficult, then how about, my friend dropped off some video news footage from the sixties. Maybe you can help me evaluate it.”
“Maybe I can.” He took the keys out of the ignition. “How long do you think it will take?”
I shrugged as I groped for the door handle. “What time is sunrise?”
Chapter Fifteen
Little arrangements of flowers had made a reappearance on the stoop. There were a few votive candles among them, and some burning incense. Mrs. Lim had scrubbed at the spray-painted message on the wall until the beige stucco had lost nearly all of its texture bumps. For all of her effort, she had only managed to fade the heavy black lines: DIE FAST, BITCH was still easily readable from the street.
“I called someone to take care of that,” Flint said. “Mrs. Lim shouldn’t have to deal with it.”
“Nice of you,” I said. I unlocked the front door and held it for him. “I was going to get some paint in the morning.”
“Good idea, if that filth is still there.” We were walking past Mrs. Lim’s door, so he whispered, “How are you getting along with Mrs. Lim?”