Cry Havoc (6 page)

Nodding, suddenly doe-eyed, the Mother agreed, “A tragedy.”

She flattened her hands on the white tablecloth, flexing long, red nails like bloodied talons.

“Do you know who killed him?” the Mother asked.

“No. We were hoping you might be able to help with that.”

“I wish I could,” the Mother answered. Frank had seen her shift effortlessly from an initial wariness, to disdain, then sadness, and now weariness. She was good. Very good.

“His sister tells us you were close to him, that he spent a lot of time here.”

“Danny was a good boy,” she offered. “He ran errands for me, helped with the church. It’s a tragedy that he should have been taken so early.”

“Yes it is. When was the last time you saw him?”

“I’m not sure,” the Mother considered, smoothing the tablecloth. “Maybe last weekend. I couldn’t say for sure.”

“Oh. Your niece said he was here last night. Around … ?” Frank knew very well what time, but prodded Lewis, “What time did she say?”

“Around eight o’clock.”

“That’s right. Eight o’clock.”

Frank let that hang there. The Mother shrugged innocently.

“I don’t know what happened. I never saw him.”

“You must have missed him somehow,” Frank offered. “Where were you around that time?”

“The church,” she said easily. “He must have come by while the boys and I were preparing for Saturday’s service. I don’t suppose you’ve ever been to our church, have you, child? Saint Barbara’s Spiritual Church of the Seven Powers? Hmm?”

“I don’t believe I have. You, Lewis?”

“No, ma’am.”

Frank continued, “We’ll have to drop by sometime. Now, who are these boys you were with, last night?”

As the words came out of her mouth, a powerful
deja vu
swept over Frank.

She was watching the Mother over the table, the plants and the gloom thick upon her. She’d just asked the Mother a question. The Mother laughed, candlelight glinting off gleaming white teeth. She looked like an animal about to devour something warm and still moving. Frank watched, curiously repelled and fascinated.

The certainty of the scene, the sense that Frank had already lived this moment, was strong enough to make her dizzy. She forced herself to concentrate on the Mother’s words, refusing to validate the odd sensation. The same went for the thin tentacle of dread reaching towards her heart.

“Those boys are my sons. Lucian and Marcus. They showed you in. They’re very devoted to their religion.” With the merest hint of menace, she added, “They’re very devoted to me.”

Nodding, Frank redirected the conversation.

“I guess that’s how you missed your nephew. Do you have any idea what he might have been stopping by for? I mean, I’m surprised he didn’t track you down at the church, seeing as he helped out there so much. What was it you think he might have been coming by for?”

“I’m sure I don’t know, child.”

Frank bobbed her head like it was an apple in a barrel. She stepped closer to the Mother, picking up a sweet, flowery scent. It was like the smell that came out of the bodega next to the station mixed with incense and herbs … and something else. Something indefinable, but old. Timeless. Again the hairs tingled along her flesh, and the tentacle of dread near her heart thickened.

“I hate to bring this up, but it’s something you might be able to help us with. Your niece, Kim, she mentioned that Danny was getting involved with some Nicaraguans …”

The candlelight was bright enough for Frank to see what she’d been looking for. She continued easily, “Boys’ names were … ?”

Without taking her eyes off the Mother, Frank cocked her head to Lewis.

“Tito Carrillo, Alejandro Echevarria, and Porfiero Hernandez.”

“That’s right. Do you know them, Mrs. Jones?”

“Danny had a lot of young friends,” she observed, her eyes steady on Frank’s. “They don’t sound familiar, but I might recognize them if I saw them.”

Frank admired the effortless save.

“Seems like Danny was looking to hook up with them, get a little action going on the side.”

The Mother waved a hand, dismissing the notion as nonsense.

“I don’t know anything about that.”

“Hm. That’s funny. That’s not what Kim said.”

The Mother smiled tolerantly, as if at a foolish but endearing child.

“What else did my niece tell you, Lieutenant? Maybe I can straighten out these misunderstandings for you.”

The Mother had volleyed smoothly, but Frank had what she wanted. For now.

“That’s about it. Just that she was worried about the friends he was hanging around with, worried about what sort of trouble he might be getting into.”

Frank made a show of reflecting inward, a subtle manipulation signaling she’d taken control of the conversation. Abruptly she said, “Look, we’ve taken enough of your time. I know you’re very busy and I appreciate your seeing us.”

Frank placed her card at the Mother’s fingertips, careful not to touch the gory nails. She reeled off the standard request to call if she thought of anything, no matter how trivial it might seem. The Mother picked up the square of paper. She tapped it with a lacquered nail, smiled at it.

“Come back sometime for a reading, Lieutenant. You might be surprised how accurate I am.”

“I bet I would be.”

She turned to make her exit, but the Mother said, “Lieutenant?”

A hint of a smile curved the Mother’s generous mouth. Her eyes reflected the yellow candle glow.

“Yes?”

“Look out for a red dog.”

“A red dog?”

“Yes, child. A red dog.”

Working their way back through the network of halls, Lewis mumbled, “I don’t care for this place. It’s kind of strange, don’t you think?”

“Wouldn’t put it high on my list of favorite vacation spots,” Frank agreed. She paused at a T in the maze.

“Right or left?”

“Right,” Lewis said without hesitating.

“You sure? I think it’s left.”

The rookie grumbled, “Then what are you asking me for if you’re so sure?”

“Lewis, you’re a bona fide pain in the ass, you know that?”

“I been told.”

Frank twisted a door handle in passing. Locked. She tried another. It yielded. Frank peeked in.

“What are you doing?” Lewis complained.

“Just checking things out while we’re here. We’re lost, right?”

Light from the hall illuminated what looked like a collection of old appliances. A dank, moldering odor drifted out. Frank closed the door. The next one she checked was locked. And the one next to it. Moving into a new hall, Lewis said, “We should have left bread crumbs.”

Frank tried another handle and it turned. She pushed on the door and the room erupted in shrieks and flapping noises. Frank swung the door shut, then slipped her hand through to feel for a switch plate. Finding it, she eased inside.

Hens in crowded cages squawked at the sudden light. A black rooster jumped on her leg. Frank swore and threw it by its neck. The bird landed near a crate of pigeons. They thrashed against the bars in a panic. Living birds trampled dead or dying ones.

The rooster shook itself off and raced back over to Frank. She kicked it away. It trotted back but maintained a wary distance.

“Damn hoodoo freaks,” Lewis complained tightly, “we ought to call Animal Control on these nasty mothers.”

Frank stepped carefully around a few loose animals, an eye on the rooster. Feathers lifted around her as she walked to a table piled with boxes. She pulled out a bottle.

“Palm oil,” she read from the label. Pulling a jar from another box, she hefted it and said to Lewis, “It’s honey. What the hell’s all this for?”

“What? I’m supposed to know just cuz I’m black what all this crazy-ass shit’s for? How am I supposed to know? I wasn’t raised in no mucketty swamp mixing up little bottles of love potion number nine, mumbling spells under my breath. Damn! I don’t truck with none of this back-woods bullshit.”

Lewis had mounted her politically correct high horse for a ride up and down Frank’s spine, but Frank said, “Just calm the fuck down. I thought maybe you were smarter than me, but now I see you’re not.”

Lewis huffed but kept her mouth shut. The birds settled down while Frank poked around in more boxes. Holding a bottle out to Lewis, she turned and saw Spic and Span looming in the doorway.

“Took a wrong turn,” she explained quickly. “This is some interesting shit. What do you do with all these birds? Eat ‘em?”

Frank held her ground as if she had every right to be snooping through the Mother’s private property.

One of the genies growled, “I thought Mother Love told you to leave.”

“We’re trying, but you took us through so many doors we got lost. If you want us out of here you gotta show us the way.”

He made an inarticulate rumbling sound at the twin glowering next to him. Lewis squeezed past and Frank followed. Again they walked for a long time between the big men. Frank thought they were deliberately leading them in circles and Frank said to Lewis, “You were right about the bread crumbs.”

“Shut the fuck up,” said the genie behind them. At length he paused at a door and opened it up to sunshine. The genie’s massive torso blocked their exit but he stepped aside and Frank moved past him. He gave her a shove that made her neck snap but Frank ignored it and kept walking into freedom. When she was safely out, with Lewis beside her, she turned and lifted a hand.

“See ya around,” she said cheerfully. Under her breath she muttered, “Magillas.”

Getting into the Mercury, Lewis whispered,
“Damn!”
then, “What’s a magilla?”

” ‘Member Magilla Gorilla? The cartoon?”

Lewis frowned and shook her head. “So you’re calling them gorillas cuz they’re black?”

“Jesus,” Frank swore. “You gotta get over this black thing. I called them magillas because they’re big and stupid. They could be fucking purple for all I care. They’re still big and stupid.”

“Hmph,” Lewis snorted.

“Hmph,” Frank snorted back, relieved she was finally out of the Mother’s goddamned Hansel and Gretel rockhouse.

“Damn,” Lewis swore softly. She twisted the AC button and warm air whooshed from the vents. “Where we going?”

Frank intended to visit the Mother’s other sister, but she wanted to think about the morning.

“Breakfast?” she asked Lewis.

“I wouldn’t mind.”

While she directed Lewis to the Norm’s on Pacific, Lewis argued, “I still don’t see why you wouldn’t let me handle her. I’d have done all right.”

Keeping her earlier thoughts to herself, Frank smiled at the rookie’s unfounded confidence.

“She’s way too big for you to cut your baby teeth on.”

“How would you know if you don’t give me a chance?”

“Trust me,” Frank assured. “I know.”

She didn’t add that her handle on the Mother had been slippery enough. Lewis seethed beside her, her eagerness pleasing Frank.

“Whoa. Slow down,” she said, staring out her window.

“What?” Lewis asked, trying to see what Frank was looking at. A slim woman in a tangerine skirt and cream colored hat sashayed along the sidewalk.

“Girl, you look good,” Frank sang out the lyrics of a popular song, “won’t you back that ass up!”

Lewis stiffened and the woman stopped. Making a brim with the flat of her hand, she beamed when she recognized Frank. Singing back, “Bitch who you playin’ wit?” she wiggled her ass dramatically toward the car.

Frank’s smile was genuine, and in a deep, sultry voice, the woman purred, “Officer Frank, where you been at? I ain’t seen you, Lord, on into a month of Sundays.”

It didn’t matter if they were a detective III, a captain, or the chief of police—on the street all cops were officers.

“Been busy, Miss Cleo. How you been?”

“You tell me,” the woman pirouetted.

“It’s not right,” Frank admired. “I get older and uglier, and you get younger and prettier.”

Miss Cleo gushed, “You just gotta know how to work it, sugar.”

Frank introduced her to Lewis, amused when Miss Cleo dangled a white-gloved hand out to her. Lewis took the fingertips, saying, “Pleased to meet you, ma’am.”

“Ma’am,” Miss Cleo laughed. “Isn’t she sweet? Now what can I do for you, Officer Frank. It’s hotter than seven hells standing out here.”

“Don’t mean to keep you. What’s the word on Mother Love-Jones?”

“Whoo-ee, that old thang?”

Miss Cleo fanned herself.

“Now you
know
I don’t involve myself with that kinda traffic. I do my business, on my own side of the street. You know that.”

“I know. Just wondering if any of your customers might’ve dropped a word on her. Her nephew going down and all.”

“Oh, isn’t that awful,” Miss Cleo responded in a deep voice. “I heard he had his you-know-what cut off and stuffed in his mouth. Is that right?”

The rooster found with Duncan had been a holdback, a piece of evidence not released to the media. Still, variations on the truth swirled in the rumor mill.

“Not quite. What else you hear?”

The woman checked up and down the street.

“I heard he’d been going around behind the Mother’s back, and this is what come of it, you know what I mean?”

“How going around?”

“Like hustling his own brand. You can’t disrespect that old woman like that. If you ask me, that boy was handing out calling cards to trouble.”

“Was he grinding ounces or weight?”

“What I heard, that boy was moving
keys.
Right under her nose! He ought to have known he couldn’t get away with that sort of business.”

“What else?”

Waving one of her gloved hands, Miss Cleo said, “I really don’t know much more. All I heard was some of them goofers what hangs out at her corner mart talking about it.”

“Which goofers?”

The woman offered a couple street names and Lewis wrote them down. Frank ran Danny’s associates’ names by her and Miss Cleo recognized Carrillo.

“He thinks he’s a boss bailer. He’d best mind he don’t end up with his you-know-what you know where.”

“Anything else?” Frank asked.

Miss Cleo hefted her slim shoulders. Frank gave her a twenty and told her to buy a new hat. Tucking the bill into her blouse the woman laughed wide.