“That was Jumbo,” said Tyrell. “We got some serious problems.”
“Yeah?”
“Eddie Golden told a lie. Wasn’t no pillowcase back at his place.”
“Coulda told you that.”
“That ain’t all. Short Man, he killed a couple kids tonight. Real kids. That boy Chief, been playin’ dealer down on our turf? Him and some other little kid. Shot ’em both.”
Ray clucked his tongue. “Cold, man. And stupid, too. You’d think Rogers would’ve stopped him.”
“Rogers wasn’t with them at the time. They’re on their way back in right now.”
“You need to get your boys under control, cuz.”
“Yes.”
“You get any other details?”
“Must be on the TV news by now.”
“Gonna watch it?”
“What for? Need to sit here and think on it some.”
Ray did a line he had cut out on the mirror. He walked to the hallway, went into the bedroom on the left, and closed the door behind him.
Time passed. Tyrell heard the white boy scream.
The screaming was loud and high pitched, and it bothered Tyrell’s ears. He rose from his chair, went into the other room, and turned up the Run-D.M.C. that was already coming from the box. He stood there by the stereo until Ray came back out of the bedroom. Ray’s eyes were bright, and he was holding back a smile. Tyrell cut the volume back low to where he could gather his thoughts.
“He talk?”
“Started sayin’ somethin’ about some white dude, workin’ in that record store down on U. Boy passed out cold on me right after that. Guess I put a little too much pressure on that broken wing of his. Way he looked, might be out for the rest of the night.”
“He don’t look like the hero type to me. Either he’s dumb or he’s tellin’ the truth. He took the money, now, he’s said as much. But maybe someone he knew took him off after that.”
“Maybe that record store dude.”
“Have to ask him about it when he wakes up.”
“I will.”
Tyrell saw that smile again, creeping up. “Don’t kill him, Antony.”
“Don’t worry,” said Ray. “Havin’ too much fun just keepin’ him alive.”
Richard Tutt phoned his partner right after he picked up the initial call on his scanner. Kevin Murphy met Tutt at O’Grady’s fifteen minutes later. The two of them drove downtown in Murphy’s Trans Am. Murphy blew through reds all the way and shut off his wipers as they approached Shaw. The rain had passed.
At the crime scene, Murphy and Tutt showed their badges, clipped them to their belts, and ducked under the yellow tape. Print and broadcast news reporters and their tech crews, meat wagons, neighborhood kids, uniforms and plainclothes dicks from their precinct, forensics technicians, their own Sergeant Miller and his Lieutenant Breen, a media-savvy local reverend, and a prominent city councilman were all on site. The alley was lit now and well protected.
Murphy saw two homicide detectives, George Dozier and Doc Farrelly, talking to residents congregated in one backyard. Several cops were grouped around a boy’s body lying facedown beyond a chain-link fence. A dog barked savagely over the squawk of police and rescue-squad radios cutting the night.
Murphy saw Tutt by a second group of cops in the middle of the alley. Tutt was staring down at the body lying there while a uniformed patrolman named Platt talked close to Tutt’s ear. Murphy stepped forward and looked through a space between the cluster of cops.
The kid was on his back, his eyes open, his teeth bared in a snarl. His scalp and a portion of his forehead were gone. A bright green cap lay nearby, a piece of red, matted meat lying in its folds.
Murphy turned his head and vomited vegetable soup.
“Come on, partner,” said Tutt, grabbing hold of Murphy’s arm. “Let’s move.”
They walked back toward the Trans Am. Murphy stumbled. Tutt kept him on his feet.
“Short Man,” said Murphy.
Tutt said, “I know.”
“Marcus.”
“Elaine.”
“What are you doing, coming here this time of night?”
“Wanted to see you. Wanted to see my boy.”
“You know our agreement. How you’d always phone first.”
“I know, but... Elaine, please.”
She looked into his eyes. “Marcus, what’s wrong with you? You troubled over something?”
“Just need to see M.J. Just need to kiss him good night.”
Elaine stepped aside. “Come on, then. And don’t wake him, hear? Took me an hour to get him down.”
“Thanks.”
Elaine watched him walk through the foyer and up the stairs.
Marcus Clay stood in Marcus Jr.’s dark bedroom. Some light streamed in from the streetlamp out on Brown. The light passing the windowpanes threw crucifix lines across the covers of the bed. A bar of pale yellow shone on M.J.’s face. His mouth was open, his breathing deep and wheezy. Clay listened to him breathe, watched the rise and fall of his chest.
Clay got on his knees and kissed his son’s warm cheek. He smelled his hair. Elaine must have given him a shampoo or something, because the boy’s hair had the scent of coconut. But it also had that goat cheese smell that it had always carried since he was a baby. Clay loved that smell.
He walked from the room, turning once before he left to have another look at the boy.
Elaine hadn’t moved. She leaned against the foyer wall, her arms crossed. Clay went and stood before her. He lifted her chin and ran his finger down her strong neck. Elaine’s arms dropped to her sides. Clay leaned in and kissed her mouth. She made a low sound in her throat and turned her head away.
“Can I stay?”
Elaine’s mouth twitched. “No.” She moved her eyes off his.
“Be good for him to see me in the morning for a change.”
“I don’t think so,” she said softly.
“You want me to, Elaine. You want me, I know.”
“I don’t deny that. But it won’t fix a thing. It never was the problem between us.”
“What was? That girl?”
“That girl was just the last bit of disrespect you showed me. I don’t think of her, ’cause I know she meant nothing to you. What I do think about is how you never recognized me for my accomplishments. Who I was.”
“I was always proud of you.”
“Those stores of yours always came first, but you never thought that what I was doing might be important to me. To our family.”
“I know it. But I’ve learned now, baby, I swear—”
“Don’t.” She touched his chest. “I’m not ready. Okay?”
Clay lowered his head.
Elaine said, “What’s troubling you tonight, Marcus? Why’d you come here, for real?”
“Couple of kids, couldn’t have been more than eleven years old or something, got killed down near the U Street store tonight.”
“My God. You knew them?”
“I don’t think so. But I see kids like them all the time. Got one doin’ odd jobs around my store now just to keep him away from the street. These kids got no guidance, Elaine, no one to give ’em examples. I was just, I don’t know... It made me want to see my son.”
Elaine put her arms around his neck and drew him close. She could feel his strong hands tight on her back.
“Promise me,” said Clay, “when you’re ready, at least you’ll try.”
“I promise.”
“I love you, baby.”
Elaine said, “I love you.”
Kevin Murphy walked from the market with a twelve-pack of Miller High Life under his arm. He dropped into the driver’s seat of the Trans Am, pulled two beers from the bag, set the bag behind his seat. He opened one of the beers and drank down half of it with one long pull. He wiped his sleeve across his chin.