Crooked Numbers (24 page)

“This is good,” Hector said. He looked at his two buddies. “First we got a teacher talks like a cop and now we got a cop talks like a teacher.” He looked back over at the car we’d pulled up in. “What’s your driver talk like? A doctor?”

“If you’d like,” Uncle Ray said, “I can bring him out here and you can listen to him yourself.” He leaned his large frame into Hector’s space. “Real close.”

Hector locked eyes with my uncle. He tried not to look intimidated, but it wasn’t working out so well. He turned away and looked at his friends. “You guys have your phones with you?” he asked.

The two of them nodded. Both reached into their pockets and pulled out their cells.

“Another time and place,” Uncle Ray said, looking around, “different lighting, lots of confusion, that kinda move would get you a whole lot of dead.”

The three of them looked at my uncle in silence. Hector’s buddies were starting to look like they knew they were getting in over their collective heads. Hector did his best to remain cool and seemed to be thinking of what he could say to impress his boys.

“That’s pretty tough talk, Cop,” Hector said. “You mind saying that again so’s my boys can get it on video?” He looked at the two of them, and both held up their phones. “I believe you just violated my rights. Maybe my lawyer could add you two in on the lawsuit. The more, the better, right?”

My uncle shook his head and looked down at the cracked asphalt. When he looked up again, he said, “How is it, Raymond, that every high school dropout in this city seems to know all about his rights?”

“I think they teach it early to some kids,” I said. I looked at the three knuckleheads. “Some teachers just know who’s going to need that kind of knowledge.”

“That’s good,” Hector said. “Make all the jokes y’all want. I get my day in court, we see who’s laughing then.” He held out his hands for his boys to slap. They did.

“You might be right about that, son,” Uncle Ray said. “It’s one thing to have money, though, and quite another to live long enough to enjoy it.”

“Shit, man,” Hector said. “You guys getting this? He just threatened me.”

Now it was my uncle’s turn to laugh. “Son,” he said. “That wasn’t a threat. It was an observation by someone who’s seen a hundred punks like you not make it to their twenties because they thought they were smarter than everyone else.”

“The hell you know about me, old man? You don’t know me!”

My uncle leaned in closer to Hector. I knew that lean-in from my childhood. It’s the one when Uncle Ray is about to tell you something real important.

“Boy,” he began, lowering his voice now. “I was working these streets before your daddy even knew how to jerk off. Keep pushing your luck. It
will
run out some day. Sooner than you think. Right now, what’re you? Oh, right. In a few weeks you’ll be eighteen. Old enough to enlist and old enough to vote. I doubt either one of those things’ll happen.” Uncle Ray took a long drag off his cigar and blew the smoke directly into Hector’s face. “You keep being the king of your little corner here. Enjoy it while it lasts. Good luck.” Uncle Ray put his hand on my shoulder again. “Let’s go, Raymond.”

We both turned and headed back to the car. I looked up and watched as a small group of pigeons took off from the roof of the building to our right.

“I don’t need no luck,” Hector yelled after us. “I already got my luck. I got me a lawyer, and I’ma have more money than all y’all.”

“Keep thinking there, Hector,” Uncle Ray said softly enough so only I could hear. I smiled at the reference to
Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid,
one of my favorite movies. “That’s what you do best.”

BACK IN THE WARMTH
of the car, my uncle unbuttoned his coat and extinguished what was left of his cigar in one of the built-in car door ashtrays. We both watched as Hector and his boys decided it was too cold to hang at the bus stop, especially when there was no one around to harass. They put their hands in their jacket pockets, turned, and headed back in the direction they’d come from, disappearing around the corner.

“Well,” Uncle Ray said, “we did what we could. That boy’ll get
his
someday. They all do.”

“In the meantime,” I said, “he’s fucking with a family’s life.”

“There is that. Sometimes, Raymond, you can only do what you can do. This could very well be one of those times.”

“Still sucks, though.”

“Big-time.” He looked at his watch. “It’s getting to be that time, Nephew. You want us to drop you at home, or is this one of your LineUp nights?”

“Home, I think.” I pulled out my cell phone. “Let me just check my messages.”

As I checked, Uncle Ray tapped the back of Smitty’s seat. “Greenpoint Avenue,” he said. “Just like the last time.”

“Yes, sir,” Smitty said, and proceeded to do a U-turn.

The recorded-lady voice on my phone informed me I had one message.

“Hello, Mr. Donne. Gloria Lee. If it’s not too much trouble, can you give me a call when you get this?”
There was a three-second pause.
“I’m not even sure why I called. I guess I just wanted to see if … there were any new.… I don’t know.”
Another pause.
“I guess it’s not all that important. I’m sorry I bothered you. Good-bye.”

I deleted the message and rubbed the time display with my thumb. It was just after five. “Dougie’s mom,” I said out loud.

“What’d she want?” Uncle Ray asked.

“I don’t know.” I thought I did. “Maybe just someone to talk to.”

I found Mrs. Lee’s number and pressed the
CALL
button. She picked up after three rings.

“Hello?”

“Mrs. Lee. Raymond Donne. I got your message.”

“I’m sorry about that, Mr. Donne. I’m not sure why I even called.”

I waited a few seconds for her to go on. It started to feel awkward, so I figured maybe she was waiting for me to speak. It took me a while to come up with something.

“Listen,” I finally said. “I’m kind of in your neighborhood. If it’s not too inconvenient for you, would you mind if I dropped by for a bit?”

I waited for a reply. “No,” Mrs. Lee said. “I wouldn’t mind at all.”

“Good. I’ll see you in a few minutes then.”

“Thank you, Mr. Donne. Thank you.”

“Not a problem.”

I ended the call and asked Officer Smitty to drop me off at Mrs. Lee’s house. After giving him the address, I turned to my uncle. “I think she just needs someone to talk to.”

“And that someone has to be you?” he asked.

“It doesn’t have to … She called me, Uncle Ray.”

“Of course she did, Raymond.” He leaned closer to me. “Remember, you are not to be involved in this investigation.”

“That’s not why I’m going over there,” I said somewhat convincingly.

“Of course not.” He faced front again and stared out the windshield. “How’s your sister?”

“Fine. We had dinner last night.”

“Excellent. It’s nice you two keep in touch like that.”

“She’s got dinner plans with Dennis Murcer.”

“Is that so?”

“Yep. Two adults having dinner.”

“You don’t approve, Raymond?”

“It is what it is,” I said, remembering Tio’s words from the other day.

“That’s very wise of you.”

“Sir?” Smitty said from up front.

Again, my uncle and I both answered, “Yes?”

“
Mr.
Donne, sir. We’re here.”

I looked out my window. “That was quick,” I said. “Thanks, Smitty.”

“Have a good one, sir.”

“Thanks, Uncle Ray.” I held out my hand. “I appreciate your trying to help.”

“I wish we had a better outcome,” he said.

“Me, too.”

“See you soon, Raymond.”

“Absolutely.” I opened my door and stepped out, then leaned back in. “Say hi to Reeny for me.”

“Most definitely. Mind yourself.”

“Always.” I shut the door and headed across the street to Mrs. Lee’s house. I took the steps two at a time, slowly, and gave my knees a little stretch. I needed to get back over to Muscles’s place tomorrow. I rang the buzzer and waited.

A half minute later, she greeted me at the front door with a weak smile and quickly ushered me in out of the cold. I followed her into the living room, and she offered me a seat on the couch. She sat down in the chair to my right. I took my coat off and placed it next to me on the couch. Between us was a small coffee table with a pot of something and two mugs.

“I took the liberty,” she said, “of making some hot chocolate. Would you care for some, Mr. Donne?”

“Yes, I would. Thank you.”

She poured the hot chocolate into the two mugs and slid mine over to me. I picked it up and, before taking a sip, enjoyed the heat as it warmed my cold hands. Mrs. Lee smiled approvingly as I took my first sip.

“This is very good,” I said.

She nodded. “I make it myself. The stuff from the packages is no good. You noticed I haven’t offered you any marshmallows.”

“I did notice. Yes.”

“That’s because my hot chocolate has nothing to hide, Mr. Donne.” She took a sip then placed her mug back on the coffee table. “Thank you for coming over. I didn’t feel like being alone and—may the good Lord forgive me—I’m getting just a little bit weary of the women from the church. It’s always the same conversation with them.” She gave me an apologetic smile. “And how was your day?”

Just two regular folks sitting around talking.

I took another sip and placed my mug next to hers. I went on to tell her about my visit with her ex-husband the day before. She listened closely and quietly, saving any questions she had until I was done.

Her first question surprised me. “How did William look?” There was genuine concern in her question.

“How’d he look?” I said. She sounded like Rachel asking after Dennis Murcer. What was it with women and their exes? “Fine, I guess. I found him at the bar you told me about, and he’d been there for a while.”

“So he was drunk.”

“He was … maintaining a desired state.”

Mrs. Lee smiled. “You are a kind man, Mr. Donne.” She took another sip. “Did William have anything interesting to say?”

I told her about the meeting and the phone conversations her ex-husband had with their son and that Dougie had said some curious things about getting his father help.

“What did Douglas mean by that?” she asked.

“Mr. Lee said he had no idea. Just that Dougie sounded like he really believed he could help his father and that he had connections through the school. Did Dougie ever mention anything along those lines to you?”

“No. I can’t remember the last time we even talked about his father.” She took another sip. “Do you think these conversations actually took place, or did William imagine them?”

“He believes they happened. I’m not a psychologist but, yeah, I think Dougie and his father had those conversations. It seems as if Dougie was being deliberately careful about how much he told his father—like he didn’t trust his father with too much information.”

Mrs. Lee smiled. “If Douglas was just beginning to let his father back into his life, I’m … glad to hear he was doing so with caution.”

“Dougie was a pretty sharp kid, Mrs. Lee.”

“I know that. It’s just boys and their dads. You never know, especially at this age. Did you talk to your father much when you were Douglas’s age?”

I picked up my hot chocolate and again held it with both palms.

“My father died when I was thirteen,” I said. “We didn’t speak much before that. I doubt anything much would have changed in my teen years.”

Mrs. Lee shook her head. “I am so sorry, Mr. Donne. It must have been hard on you. Going through your teenage years without a father.”

“I tried not to think much about it,” I said. “It became the new normal for me. My mom used to say we had to deal with the hand the Lord gave us.” I took a sip of hot chocolate. “That’s when I started to question my faith.”

She reached over and touched my knee. “Your mother did a fine job of raising you nonetheless. Faith or no faith, you act more Christian than many Christians I know.”

“I appreciate that. Thanks.”

We both got silent for a while. After about a minute, Mrs. Lee said, “Are you hungry, Mr. Donne? I’ve still got so much food left over from … the other day. It would be no trouble at all to fix you a plate.”

“Thank you,” I said. “But I’m not hungry.” The truth was, I
was
hungry. I just wasn’t comfortable with Mrs. Lee serving me.

“I could send you home with something.”

“Maybe. Right now this hot chocolate is doing me fine.”

She smiled. “Good.”

We both looked up as we heard the front door open. I looked over at Mrs. Lee.

“That’s Douglas,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “He said he might be dropping by this evening, but I didn’t think—”

We heard the front door shut and then, “Gloria?” That was definitely Douglas Lee’s voice, and I could just imagine how happy he was going to be to see me in his sister-in-law’s living room, drinking hot chocolate.

“In here, Douglas,” Mrs. Lee said.

We both stood as the sound of his footsteps got closer. “I’m sorry I didn’t call first,” he said from the hallway, “but a meeting got canceled at the last minute and—”

He stopped as he entered the living room and tried to process my presence. He didn’t strike me as a man who was easily surprised, but he looked surprised now. Then the look turned to annoyed. He took a deep breath before speaking.

“What is Mr. Donne doing here?” he asked.

“I invited him, Douglas,” Mrs. Lee said. “He’s my guest.
That’s
why he’s here.”

“Hello again, Mr. Lee,” I said.

The attorney just shook his head. “Seems like every time I turn around these days, there you are, Mr. Donne.”

“I think that’s a bit of an exaggeration, Mr. Lee. I believe this is only the third time we’ve met this past week.”

“Somehow it seems like more.”

“I have that effect on some people.”

“Is there something wrong with Mr. Donne being in my home, Douglas?” Mrs. Lee asked.

“I believe, Gloria,” he said, looking right at me, “there may be something wrong with Mr. Donne.”