Dominion (89 page)

“Tonight we’re going to study John 4. If you did your background reading, you know racial hatred was as common in the ancient world as it is today. The Samaritans were half-breed Jews who intermarried with heathen people the Jews thought were inferior. Jews detested Samaritans, and Samaritans detested Jews. In John 4 Jesus steps over on the wrong side of the tracks and reaches out to a Samaritan woman, who had a bad reputation. If you don’t know somebody, you assume the worst about him—especially if you’ve been told the worst. But when you reach out to someone, like Jesus does, you get to know him. You love him just like Jesus loved this woman. You talk honestly to people you love, and you do whatever you can to help them.”

While everyone else looked down at their Bibles, Clarence looked up at all the faces in the room. As bad as he felt, he knew Geneva was right. This was where he belonged.

“Ray?” Ollie asked. “Listen, Clarence is sitting here. I’ll punch on the speakerphone. Okay, we can both hear you now.”

“How are you, Clarence?” Ray asked.

“Okay,” he lied. “Missed you at Bible study.”

“Yeah, I missed you all too. Here’s the scoop. I was there at 12:30 when the license plate was delivered to the Rafer Thomas home. Mr. Thomas took it inside just for a minute, then headed out to his car with the unwrapped plate in hand. I followed him to a street corner store in South Central, and I knew I was in trouble. There was heavy foot traffic. Dozens of people coming in and out every five minutes, half of them carrying sacks. I got out and went up to the front door. Everyone stared at me like I was Sitting Bull in war paint. Not effective undercover work, so I went back to my car and studied the situation from there.

“I kept watching the streets for a jazzed up midnight blue Mercedes SL 500. Saw a good share of Mercedes, but not that one. These guys are smart, or they’re lucky. It was half an hour when Mr. Thomas comes back out of the store. He’s carrying a sack. So do I follow him or stay put? He might have the license in his sack and be heading to where these guys hang out. I followed him. We go a few miles, and it’s obvious he’s headed back home. By the time I turn around and get back to the store, any one of a hundred black males could have made the pick up, or they could have done it while I watched. Who knows? Our perps could have sent their mother or their girlfriend. Short of holding everyone at gunpoint and checking their bags as they left the store, there’s nothing I could do. Sorry.”

“That’s okay, Ray,” Ollie said. “At least we’ve gotten as far as a store in South Central. There’s a good chance their hood is nearby, so it’s still a help.”

“This is definitely Hoover turf,” Ray said. “It’s just that it’s one gigantic territory. I’ll keep cruising and looking for the Mercedes and do some digging. I’ll keep you posted.”

“Hey Ray?” Clarence said, throat clutching a bit. “I want to thank you for going down there for me. It means a lot. Just don’t go risking your life, okay?”

“No problem. That’s why God gives us brothers, huh? Listen, one other thing I’ve been thinking about, and I want you both to hear it. I’m in a tough position here because I don’t want to violate client confidences. I know you’ve been investigating Councilman Norcoast, though I don’t know the details. Let’s just say I have some info on Norcoast. It may not be relevant, but it could be.”

“What do you mean?” Ollie asked.

“Look, Ollie, if you can get a court order against me to divulge information, I’ll do it. Frankly, you may know about it already or it may not be worth your trouble, but it could be, I don’t know. I just want you to be aware I’ll bend if you can hit me with something official.”

“I’ll keep it in mind. One other thing. After you turn over some more rocks down there, I could really use you in Sacramento. Let’s stay in touch, okay?”

Ollie hung up the phone and shuffled through some papers. He looked at Clarence. “This morning I talked with the principal at Jefferson, Mr. Fielding. I asked him about the girl.”

“Gracie?”

“I’d get in the habit of calling her Miss Miller. Anyway, he told me he was really surprised she’d volunteered for the interview with you. He has a feel for who volunteers for stuff like this. She isn’t the type. She’s a regular crack user and sometimes crank. Fielding said he wished he had the power to take control of the drug situation there, but thanks to the ACLU, he has no freedom to search lockers.”

“Okay, so she’s a druggie. What else did he say?”

“Hangs with a bad crowd. Shoplifter. Petty thief. Looks for the quick buck, needs it for her crack. Hangs with the gangs. Rollin’ 60s mostly, but has contacts with three or four different Crip sets. She’s an oddity, not a full gang sister who hangs with the girlfriends, but she’s popular with the guys for other reasons.”

“I’ll bet.”

“The principal also said she has no respect for authority. Zero academic interest. Never does her homework. In the old days that would mean she’d flunk out. Now it just means she’s not valedictorian. She even managed a few Ds and an F, which Fielding says is almost impossible if you’ve got any brains at all, and he says she does. He told me one other thing I found very interesting.”

“What’s that?”

“With all her lousy grades there wasn’t a single B, but there was one A, and her teacher says she’s a natural at it.”

“What class? PE?”

“Nope. Drama.”

Ollie walked into McDonald’s. He perused the tables for a blonde girl who looked like she wanted attention. He intended to give her the kind she didn’t want.

“I’m Detective Ollie Chandler,” he said, holding out his badge.

“I’m impressed,” Gracie said, batting her eyes with practiced effect.

“You’re not really impressed,” Ollie said, “but you will be. I’m thinking of offering you a deal.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, here’s how I size you up. Besides being a crackhead, you’re a miserable student who got an A in drama, and your teacher says you’re one heck of an actress. Congratulations. Maybe after you get out of jail, you can get a bus ticket to Hollywood.”

She flinched, but only slightly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You working more than one scam, is that it? Okay. Clarence Abernathy. Now do you know what I’m talking about?”

“Look, I liked the guy. I didn’t turn him in. It was my uncle.”

“Yeah, after you told him you slept together. Played that pretty cool, didn’t you? Whoever hired you as an actress for this little B movie thought statutory rape and a drug charge would bring him down, huh? Well, maybe Clarence has an alibi you don’t know about. And maybe you’re in big trouble for framing a man, lying about him, and giving false testimony to officers of the law. Want to go off to one of those creepy jails for minor girls, Gracie? The ones where the wardens are as weird as the inmates? See, we know who hired you for this job. We know who paid you off. Now I might be willing to make a deal to get them. Or I could offer
them
a deal and go after you. How about it? Feel like talking?”

“Not really,” she said, coldly but with noticeably less confidence than she’d had a minute earlier.

“Here’s my card,” Ollie said. “No, I won’t be writing my home number on it, thank you. Just call me at the office if you change your mind. I wouldn’t wait too long, though. Somebody’ll take me up on the deal if you won’t. You’re expendable, Gracie. Remember that. When push comes to shove, they’ll sell you out. Your only chance is to sell them out first.”

Gracie watched Ollie walk out the door and drive out of the parking lot, talking on his phone as he drove. She tugged on a quarter wedged tightly in her jeans. It popped out like a yanked tooth. She walked hurriedly to the pay phone in front of McDonald’s, peering down the street to make sure Ollie was out of sight.

Ollie turned and drove down a side street, then circled around. He parked a street over from the McDonald’s, where he watched her through his binoculars, still talking on his phone.

“Got it? Yeah. She’s at our pay phone now. Same one she kept using yesterday. Just punched in a number and hasn’t said anything. Must be listening to a message, waiting to talk. Wait, no, now she’s punching in another number. Hold on, she just hung up. Obviously not enough time for a trace. Barely enough time for a busy signal. Wait a minute, I think she dialed a beeper number and entered in the pay phone number for the return call. My bet is, Mr. Beeper’s gonna call her back right there at Ronald’s.”

Ollie smiled broadly as he opened up his first of two Big Macs. “I love this job,” he said aloud. He continued to watch Gracie, who looked impatient and agitated, shivering in the cold. Suddenly she picked up the phone. On his cellular he said, “Okay she’s on now. You’ve got it, right?”

He kept rooting for her to stay on the line longer. Seven minutes later she hung up.

“Yeah? Terrific,” Ollie said. “The Delores Williams residence at Twelfth and Switzer? Wait a minute. I think I know her son. Davey Williams. Better known as Shadow.”

“Okay, Sheila, remember, this is confidential police business, all right? It’s not to be shared with anyone else in your office. Understand?”

“Yes.” Sheila sounded nervous over the phone. “I won’t get in trouble for this, will I?”

“No,” Ollie said. “Now, you’re sure no one else is in the office? And if a call comes in and gets picked up on the private line answering machines, you’ll know?”

“Yes, I’ll know.”

“All right. Call me back as soon as you hear something, just like we talked about, okay?”

“Okay.”

Ollie put down the phone and picked up a laser-printed page that read, “Harper: Counting on you to take care of the job. Make it soon.” He put it in the fax machine. “I’ve deleted our return number in our fax, so it won’t show up on his printout,” he said to Clarence. “I’ve also got a blocker on this line, in case he has caller ID. He won’t know where the fax is coming from.”

Ollie dialed, pressed “Start,” and watched the paper pull through. He waited about a minute, pressed “Redial,” and ran the same page through again. He waited another minute, and did exactly the same thing a third time.

“What do we do now?” Clarence asked.

“We wait.”