Lula looked behind her, then back at Murphy. “That all?”
“Just keep an eye on your grandson, Miss Taylor.”
Lula narrowed her eyes. “You sayin’ that I don’t?”
“No, ma’am, I’m not sayin’ that.”
“’Cause I do the best I can. Work a full-time job and pay for his food and shelter and clothing, including that NFL jacket and those fifty-dollar sneakers he likes to wear. Give him plenty of love, too. All of this while that daughter of mine cleans herself up down south. I do the best I can.”
“Just wanted to mention that it’s gettin’ awful rough out here. Boy his age shouldn’t be runnin’ free.”
“Good day, officer.”
Murphy tipped his head and said, “Good day.”
She closed the door. Murphy walked away.
Going down the sidewalk, one of the older boys leaning on an old Datsun asked what the Taylor kid had done. Murphy didn’t answer or look the boy’s way. He opened the driver’s-side door and got behind the wheel of the squad car.
“Still think the kid’s tellin’ the truth?” said Tutt.
“Yeah,” said Murphy.
“I’m not so sure. Let’s get to our pay phone. I’ll beep Rogers, see if we can’t find out what went down. Maybe Taylor did talk. You never know.”
Tutt always called from the same pay phone. He made sure none of the runners used the same one.
Murphy ignitioned the cruiser.
Tutt said, “That old man, one who called in the fight? He said Clay had some words with Short Man about stayin’ out of the neighborhood. Tyrell’s not gonna like that.”
“I expect he won’t.”
“Well, I always said it was just a matter of time before someone shut Short’s mouth. Only wish it could have been me.”
“You’ll get your chance, Tutt.”
“Gonna be my pleasure, too. Anyway, he had it comin’.”
We all have it coming. It’s a vengeful God gonna make us pay.
“Come on,” said Tutt, “we gonna sit here idling all day? Or maybe you want to see if one of those geniuses over there wants a ride somewhere, too. Maybe you wanna start one of those, what do you call that, day-care services for all these disadvantaged kids.”
Tutt high-cackled as Murphy pulled away from the curb.
“Oh, shit.” Tutt wiped his eyes.
“You’re cracking yourself up, Tutt.” Murphy hung a left. “Where to?”
“Head on down to T, partner. Let’s see if we can’t do somethin’ right before we gotta go talk to Tyrell. Maybe run across that kid in the green hat. You know, the one who calls himself Chief.”
Clarence Tate said, “You should’ve told me, Marcus.”
“I know it, Clarence. I apologize.”
“I understand what you’re sayin’, how you thought everything was all right, seeing her out on that street with that cop there and all that. But you should have stopped and checked it out to make sure. Or you should have pulled over and called me up.”
“I made a judgment call, Clarence. Last night I thought that Tutt, bein’ a cop and all, he wouldn’t let anything happen to her. And I didn’t think it was right to involve the Taylor kid. But after talking to Denice, and just those few minutes I saw of him today... well, if I had known what he was about, I would have done it different. There’s somethin’ wrong with that cop.”
“There is.”
“But I wouldn’t be too rough on Denice, Clarence. She’s got a good head on her shoulders, man. Try to remember how you felt with your first love. How nothin’ was gonna stop you from seeing her.”
“You don’t have to tell me. But it doesn’t make it any easier when it’s your own daughter and you see her goin’ down the wrong road.”
“Just go easy on her, friend.”
“Yeah, I know.”
Crowd noise surged from the television set up on the desk.
“Kansas?” said Tate.
Clay nodded. “They’re takin’ Temple to school.”
Karras came out of the bathroom. He had been in there for the past ten minutes. Clay and Tate shared a look.
“I’m outta here, Marcus,” said Karras, speaking rapidly, clapping his hands and rubbing them together with vigor.
“You call your girl Donna, let her know what went down?”
“Left a message on her machine. I’m gonna head over to George-town for the late rush, then close things out at Dupont with Cheek. I’ll see you there.”
“Right.”
“Take care, Clarence.”
“Professor.”
Tate waited for Karras to exit the back room.
“Your boy’s in trouble,” said Tate.
“Say it again?”
“He’s deep into that freeze. Everybody in the company knows it. You know it, too, Marcus.”
Clay nodded. “Been recreational up to now. I’m not sure if it’s a full-blown problem yet.”
“Anyone doin’ that shit has a problem, you ask me. You can’t tell me any different.”
“I hear you. Me and Dimitri are due for a talk.”
“Up to you. Thought I’d point it out.”
“Clarence?” said Clay.
They shook hands, and then Tate put his arms around Clay and hugged him.
“No problem, brother. We’re okay.”
“Take the rest of the day off, will you?”
“Planned on it. Gonna go talk to Neecie right now.”
Clay walked Tate through the sales floor. He watched him get into his Cutlass and drive west.
Tate’s emotions had built on the ride to their row house; as soon as he stepped into the foyer he began to shout. Denice had been caught off guard and unbalanced, and became defensive immediately. Their brief, volcanic conversation ended with the slamming of a door and Denice crying in her room. Tate went down to the kitchen, leaned against the counter, and drank a beer. The beer took him down a few notches to where he needed to be.
He went back upstairs. He pushed open Denice’s door. She was sitting on the edge of her bed.
“Neecie?”
“Yes, Daddy.”
“Thought maybe you’d like to catch an early movie.”
She looked up at him. There were dirt tracks running down her face. “I guess that would be all right.”
“Come here.” They met halfway in the room. He brought her close and held her tight for a long time, stroking her hair. “I love you, honeygirl,” he said.
Denice began to cry again. Tate cried, too.
Sixteen
Short Man Monroe walked across the parking lot outside D.C. General. His nose was set, packed, and taped. His eyes were swollen and gorged with blood. Alan Rogers had to move quickly to keep up.
“Slow down, black.”
“Fuck slowin’ down,” said Monroe. “Where go our Z?”
“Round here somewhere.”
Monroe took two of the codeines the ER doctor had given him, popped them in his mouth, threw his head back and dry-swallowed the pills. He heard a beeper sound.
“That you?”
“Yeah.”
Rogers pulled his beeper off his Lees and checked the number.
“Tutt and Murphy,” said Rogers.
“Wonder what they want,” said Monroe.
“I’ll find out.”
“Don’t call ’em back. They supposed to be freein’ us up to do our business down there. Where the fuck were they when Vietnam came runnin’ down the street?”
“Doin’ their regular cop work, I expect.”
“Yeah, well, Tyrell’s gonna hear about this shit, you can believe that.”
They found the Z. Monroe tossed dollars at the Ethiopian parking attendant, caught rubber leaving the lot.
“Foreign mothafuckers everywhere you look,” said Monroe.