Blood and Bone (6 page)

“Rissik told me you were up here, looking for clues or something,” Nieswand said, ushering Hannibal and Cindy toward the stairs. “Did you forget why you were
here? Or would you rather pursue Paton's death? No one will miss the man, you know.”

Hannibal breathed deeply, his eyes fading into green on his way down the plushly carpeted steps. “The man was killed on your property. He lived in your house. Are you saying you don't care?”

“What I'm saying,” Nieswand said when they reached his study, “is you can't help him now. But you can help Kyle Mortimer. Miss Santiago told me you decided to take the case. Will you now accept a retainer and make it official?” Before Hannibal could respond, Nieswand shoved a check into his still damp shirt pocket, the way a man jams a bill down into a stripper's G-string.

“Now, I suggest you get going,” Nieswand said, easing Hannibal toward the door. “The car Ms. Santiago ordered is here and his meter is probably running.”

Hannibal was startled to face bright sunshine as he opened the door. The clouds which blanketed the area all day had evaporated while he was inside. His next shock was the taxi waiting in the driveway and the short, bulky Latino at the wheel. He slid into the back seat and Cindy followed him in. The driver backed out of the driveway, speaking to his passengers without ever turning his nearly bald head.

“Hard day, Hannibal? Cindy told me they stole your ride.”

“That ain't the half of it, Ray,” Hannibal said. “But Cindy didn't tell me she called her old man for a lift.”

“Hannibal, if not for you my little cab company wouldn't exist. Picking you up is a pleasure. Besides,” he chuckled, “business ain't been all that good. Now where to?”

“How about my place?” Cindy asked Hannibal. “You can get cleaned up and you've got a change of clothes there.”

Hannibal looked at her the way he always did when she discussed their personal lives in her father's presence. It was awkward enough for him living in the same building with her father. Ray knew what their relationship was, but Hannibal was still uneasy about being too obvious.

“I guess,” he said, rolling down his window. “Listen, Ray, do you think I could hire you and a car for a couple of days? I've got a case and it shouldn't wait. The trail starts in Baltimore and I'll need to get up there.”

“How far is Catonsville?” Cindy asked before Ray could answer Hannibal's question.

“It's right there, a suburb on the southwest edge of Baltimore,” Ray said. “Why?”

“Yeah, why?” Hannibal added. Cindy sank back into the seat with him, nuzzling his ear the way she did when she wanted a favor and did not want to risk getting no for an answer. “Sweetheart, somebody ought to tell that nice lady that her husband's dead.”

“Ex-husband,” Hannibal corrected her. “And she didn't want to be bothered with him, remember?”

“She said she still cares about him,” Cindy said, running a finger gently down his neck.

“So call her up.”

“This isn't something a woman wants to hear over the phone,” Cindy said. “Besides, Mister Nieswand was being a jerk. You ought to do this on his time.” Her fingers moved to slide down his chest. “It'll make you feel better.”

“Sounds like we'll be making a detour,” Hannibal said loud enough for Ray to hear.

“Sure thing,” Ray said. “When you think you'll want to get going?”

Cindy had reached Hannibal's knee by this time and his throat was tight. She answered for him. “Getting late in the day for starting a case, isn't it? Daddy, why don't you pick Hannibal up tomorrow morning? At my place.”

Ray Santiago pulled his best limousine off the Capital Beltway at the College Park exit, and headed north on Interstate 95. The ride was smooth and he stayed within five miles per hour of the speed limit. But Hannibal knew Ray considered him more family than a customer. For one thing, Ray would never light up a Kent with anyone else in the back seat.

“So, you didn't tell me much, Paco. This is a missing person's case?”

The sky went up to infinity this day, with a sun so bright the light seemed to come from everywhere. After two weeks of intermittent rain, all of Maryland was the color of a new pool table. Hannibal smiled into the rear view mirror.

“I've got to find a lost father to save the son's life,” he said in a matter of fact way. “Tell you all about it on the way up. First I've got to make a call.”

Hannibal picked up the telephone in the back seat and pushed buttons. His mood was buoyed by more than the weather. Ray picked him up early enough to be at Kuppenheimer's as the door opened. He bought only working clothes today: a black suit, suspenders, and soft leather loafers. A white shirt and a subtly patterned tie from Structure. Soft gray kid gloves. And a pair of very dark wraparound Oakley sunglasses.

New clothes always made him feel better. Now he was doing a good turn, a freebie for no reason except his woman said it would be a nice thing to do. He got the number from Directory Assistance and he only listened to two rings before a woman's thin, squeaky voice said hello.

“Hello, is this Daisy Sonneville?”

“Yeah. You selling something?”

“No, ma'am,” Hannibal said, “I don't want anything from you. My name is Hannibal Jones and I have some news for you about Ike Paton.”

“Who?” Her voice was no less suspicious.

“Pat. Your ex.”

Hannibal was not sure if the long silence meant surprise, fear, or simply a lack of interest. It ended with a long, ragged breath.

“Are you in Baltimore?”

“Will be in half an hour or so,” Hannibal said. The way Ray was flying down the road, it would probably be less. “I'm headed up from Washington. I've got some business in Baltimore, but I'd gladly stop by your place if you want to give me the address.”

“I see.” her words were precise and measured, as if they were too precious to waste. “No. Not here. When you hit the Beltway get off at exit twelve and go over to Wilkens Avenue. About half a mile in toward the city there's a little shopping center. I work at the University of Maryland not far from there. I'll meet you in that coffee shop and we can talk, okay?”

“See anything?” Jewel asked.

“Nothing bad,” Sarge answered, pulling one of his feet up onto Hannibal's desk, which he was sitting on.
She knew he was supposed to make her more relaxed, but sitting there, staring out the window with a baseball bat always in reach, he made her feel as though violence was imminent. She hopped to her feet and started pacing, but Sarge sat as still as before. Damn it. If she was nervous, anyone around her should be.

The sound of the doorknob turning made her spring to the next room. Through the half open sliding double doors she saw an old woman shuffle in, her stout, round form wrapped in a long red flowered dress. Sarge got to his feet, apparently out of respect.

“Well, good morning,” the old woman said. “Looks like I got somebody to talk to today.”

“Morning, Mother Washington,” Sarge nodded with a big smile. “Yeah, I'll probably be around pretty much today.”

“How are my boys?” Mother Washington asked, setting her purse on the small desk.

“Everybody's fine. Hannibal, he's out on a case. I think Ray's with him. Virgil and Quaker, they working a job for a local landlord.”

“Praise the Lord,” Mother Washington said, her face split into a broad smile. “Long as they all working, they ain't getting in no trouble. Suppose it's the same for an old woman, so let me get to the kitchen and get my supplies.”

The woman took three steps toward the next room and came face to face with Jewel. It was a full face, Jewel saw, and very dark, topped with gray hair pulled to the back and held by a rubber band. Mother Washington turned to Sarge whose face fell into a guilty expression.

“I'm sorry,” Sarge said. “This is Jewel. Jewel, this is Mother Washington. She's kind of adopted the guys
who live here.” The woman turned back to look Jewel over. It was an uncomfortable experience. While Sarge's eyes on her made her feel sexy in her tight miniskirt, tank top and spiked heels, Mother Washington's gaze made her feel naked. The woman had certainly marked her as a street girl, but her eyes held pity rather than disdain.

“A girl in trouble,” Mother Washington said with a knowing smile. “Well I'm glad to know you. I come by most days to straighten up and answer the phone.”

“What do you mean by that?” Jewel whined, drawing her fists up to her hips. “A girl in trouble. You saying I look like somebody in trouble? What makes you think I'm in trouble?”

Sarge almost gasped, but Mother Washington looked at her the way she often looked at the mildly retarded.

“You hiding here in Hannibal's office,” Mother Washington said. “The door to the street is locked in the daytime. You got Sarge here watching over you. Your eyes don't hold still for a minute. Don't take a genius to see you in trouble. But you got nothing to worry about, child. You found sanctuary.”

With a nod she stepped off toward the kitchen. After a moment, Jewel followed. Mother Washington hummed an old spiritual as she gathered furniture polish, a feather duster and cloths from a cabinet. With those tools in a small pail she pulled a broom and dustpan from behind the refrigerator and headed back toward the front of the house.

“I know that tune,” Jewel said trailing behind her.

“It's gospel,” Mother Washington said. “Throw Out Your Lifeline.”

As Mother Washington started dusting the desk, Jewel picked up Hannibal's IN box. “What did you mean by that? I found sanctuary.”

“I mean you're safe here,” Mother Washington said. “Once you got Hannibal Jones protecting you, you got nothing to worry about. People in trouble, that's his stock-in-trade.”

Jewel stood with her arms crossed as Mother Washington dusted everything that was not permanently attached to the room and a few things that were. “You make him sound like some kind of saint.”

Mother Washington looked at Jewel with a kindly light in her eyes and suddenly the younger woman felt calmer. Then she handed Jewel the dustpan and started sweeping. At appropriate times, Jewel would crouch to let her sweep dirt into the pan.

“Let me tell you something about Hannibal Jones,” Mother Washington said. “See this here building? It don't look like much, do it? Kind of wonder why a man would have his business office here, don't you?”

“Now that you mention it,” Jewel nodded.

Mother Washington looked toward the big desk and, without being asked, Sarge grabbed one end and swung it around so she could sweep beneath it. Jewel did not see a speck of dirt underneath, but Mother Washington swept there anyway.

“Not too long ago this place was a crack house,” Mother Washington said. “Junkies and dealers just moved in here and set up shop. Everyday there was somebody trying to sell my grandson that poison. Police didn't do nothing. People who lived here didn't think they could do anything either. Then Hannibal Jones came around.”

Sarge righted the big desk and slid the smaller one across the floor for cleaning. Shafts of sunlight coming through two big front windows illuminated the few remaining dust specks in the air. Jewel noticed she was catching the radiant calm the other woman generated.

“Hannibal said the man who owns the building hired him to clean it out,” Mother Washington went on. “He brought this big fellow and a few other friends and they came in here with some big sticks and just cleaned house.” Her broad smile revealed a gap between her front teeth. “Just spanked them and put them in the street. More than that, he involved everybody on the block, gave our men some pride again, brought our people together again.”

Mother Washington began gathering her cleaning equipment. “Now, I was real glad to see the bad element go, but I knew as soon as Hannibal and his friends left, the trash would just come back in. That's the good part. He decided he liked this old building too much to leave. And the neighborhood liked him just as much. So he stayed right here, and his friends moved in too, upstairs. I think he made a deal about the rent, because his being here does keep the trash from coming back. And he's kind of the super for the building.”

“So you're part of his company?” Jewel asked Sarge. “A professional troubleshooter like him?”

“Me? I'm just an old gunny sergeant who works as a bouncer in a few local clubs. When I met Hannibal I was homeless and jobless. We all was. He just hired us to help with that one job. And I pay rent for sure. But it's a lot better than a homeless shelter and Hannibal helps me keep working. Like now.”

“So, he lives on that side, keeps an office on this side, and you,” Jewel nodded toward Mother Washington, “You're like his maid and secretary both?”

Mother Washington stopped in her tracks. “No, dear. I'm his friend and I help him out.”