Justice (35 page)

“What does she do?”

“She’s a paralegal for a corporate firm. He’s a civil engineer. Together, they do well. In this neighborhood, they do very, very well. But put them in Beverly Hills, they aren’t worth squat.”

“Put me in Beverly Hills, Officer, and I’m not worth squat, either.”

For the first time today, Bontemps gave him a genuine smile. “Yeah, I keep thinking all white men are rich. And if they aren’t, what’s their excuse?”

“Unfortunately, being male and white isn’t enough.”

“Yeah, but you’re—” She stopped herself.

Decker said, “Yes, Wanda, even being white and male and
Jewish
isn’t enough to guarantee wealth. But believe it or not, I understand what you’re saying. White men don’t have the built-in barriers, so what’s holding them back? Or are you really asking, what’s holding
me
back?”

“I think you’re doing fine, sir.”

“Yes, I am, Officer. But I’ll tell you this much. If I knew the secret to wealth, I sure as hell wouldn’t be doing this…shhh, she’s coming back.”

Bontemps nodded. “Anything you want me to bring up for you?”

“Just keep filling in the blanks. You’re doing good, by the way.”

“Thank you.”

Tony led her husband over to the sitting area. Parker Green had heavy-lidded dark eyes and a wide mouth. His head held a shiny bald spot surrounded by a ring of close-cropped black and silver fuzz. He wore a white shirt, loosened at the collar, a striped tie, and a pair of tan slacks. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, his coat was draped over his shoulder, a worn briefcase in his right hand. Tony took her husband’s coat and briefcase and told him to sit. Parker took the unoccupied wing chair. He looked at the tray of canapés and took a couple of crackers topped with turkey.

He said, “Tony said you’ve reopened my daughter’s case.”

Decker said, “It’s never been closed.”

“Officially,” Green said. “Unofficially, we haven’t heard a damn thing in over a year.” He looked at Decker’s face. “You got something new or are we going to be rehashing the same old shit?”

“Probably a bit of both,” Decker said.

Tony came back into the room with a glass of iced tea for her husband. She sat down and reached for her husband’s hand. Fingers interlocked, both parents waited.

Decker said, “I’ve read your daughter’s file. I didn’t see any notes about a boyfriend. Did your daughter have a boyfriend?”

The Greens looked as if they’d just sucked on lemons. Tony said, “We’ve answered these questions before.”

“I’m sure you have,” Decker said, “but not to me.”

“Don’t aggravate yourself, Tony. They’re not worth it.” Green ate a smoked-ham appetizer. “No, she didn’t have a steady. Of course, she went out. Deanna was very popular. But no one in particular could hold her interest.”

Tony said, “Deanna was a serious student. Her studies always came first.”

Green said, “Not like some of these kids today…too damn lazy to work—”

Tony squeezed her husband’s hand. “Just what kind of new developments do you have?”

Decker said, “I’d like you to take a look at a drawing. Just tell me if the person looks familiar.”

Again, the parents exchanged glances. Bontemps fished the sketch from her purse and handed it to Tony. Green got up and stared at the face by looking over his wife’s shoulder. They studied it for at least a couple of minutes. Finally, Tony shook her head. She raised her eyes to her husband. “Parker?”

“Don’t know the kid.” Green’s eyes went to Decker. “Is he the bastard?”

“I don’t know,” Decker said.

“Where’d you get this drawing?” Tony asked.

“It’s a long story,” Bontemps said. “Does he look familiar to you at all, Mrs. Green?”

“No, he doesn’t.”

Decker tried to read their faces. From what he could decipher, they were telling the truth.

Tony handed the picture back to Wanda. “Anything else?”

“’Fraid not,” Decker said.

“That’s it?” Tony’s disappointment was palpable.

“Mrs. Green, all I have is some matching physical evidence. Unfortunately, I don’t have a suspect—”

“Who is this monster you’re investigating?” Green broke in. “Some kind of serial killer?”

“I’m not sure,” Decker said. “You’ve never seen this face in the neighborhood or around Deanna’s school?”

Tony said, “You came down here just to show us a single
drawing
?”

“We work with what we have,” Bontemps said. “Sometimes it isn’t a lot.”

“I’ll say!”

Green sighed, disgusted. “Try the picture at her school. Maybe you’ll get lucky. ’Cause that’s the only thing that’s going to solve this case. Luck.”

“I’ll try the school.” Decker stood and so did Bontemps. As he reached out to offer Green his hand, the front door opened.

The young man appeared to be in his early twenties, tall and lithe, but very well defined. He had hazel eyes, high cheekbones, and a small mustache underneath a broad nose. He wore a black muscle shirt, black running shorts, and high-top athletic shoes. His body and face bathed in sweat, he was panting when he came in. His eyes immediately went to Decker’s face.

Green rose from his chair. “Come here, Stephain. I want you to take a look at a picture.” Almost as an afterthought, he added, “This is my son, Stephain.”

“What’s going on?” Stephain said.

“Police,” Tony said. “A
supposed
new lead on Deanna’s murder.”

The young man stood at the doorway, eyes darting from parent to stranger. “What new lead?”

Green said, “Come here and take a look at this.”

“Lemme wash my face first,” Stephain said.

“For godsakes, Stephain, it’ll only take a minute.”

Stephain glared at his father. “So will washing up.”

He stomped into the kitchen. Tony followed. Green was about to stop her, but changed his mind.

Nobody spoke for a moment. Then Green muttered, “Boy should get a damn job…something…anything! Mother isn’t helping at all. So damn clingy to him since Deanna…” He lifted his arms helplessly and then dropped them to his side. “When I was his age I was working two jobs and going to night school. Yeah, it’s hard, but I’ve tried to tell him that nothing is imposs—Aw, hell with it!”

Green marched into the kitchen. Seconds later, muffled conversation could be heard. No words, just angry, disjointed vocalizations.

Bontemps whispered, “He’s not the face in Whitman’s sketch.”

Decker nodded in agreement.

A minute passed, then Stephain stormed back into the living room, his mouth screwed in anger. His parents followed, looking upset and embarrassed.

To Decker, Stephain said, “Lemme see the picture.”

Tony blushed. “Stephain, these people are trying to help—”

“Cut the crap, Ma. They don’t give a damn about us. And what are you trying to prove with this
shit
?” He gave the tray of canapés a gentle kick. Bontemps managed to rescue the salver before it fell to the floor. “You think this is what white people do, Ma? Serve little crackers and iced tea to the police? You think that’s gonna stop the beatings?”

“Stephain!” his father rebuked him. “Remember who you’re talking to.”

The young man went nose to nose with his father. “And you remember who you’re talking to—”

“Hey!” Decker said forcefully. “Enough, all right!”

The two men looked at Decker. Stephain shouted back, “No, it’s not all right! Just who the
hell
do you think you are?”

“Buddy, my sister wasn’t murdered. But yours was. Think you can pause a minute in her memory to maybe get a little justice done?” Decker shoved the drawing in front of the brother’s face. “You know this guy? Yes or no?”

Angrily, Stephain grabbed it from Decker’s hands. The change in his eyes was instant. From naked hostility to a look of surprise.

Decker kept his face flat. “Who is he?”

Stephain handed the picture back. “Don’t know him.”

Bontemps blurted out, “Now who should cut the crap! You know who he is. Tell us!”

“Get lost, Aunt Thomasina!”

“Stephain!” Tony yelled. “I’ll not have—”

“Yeah, start defending the cops, Ma. Maybe if you defend them hard enough, you’ll turn white—”

Again, Decker shoved the sketch in Stephain’s face. He whispered. “Do us a favor, Stephain. Look again.”

Enraged, Stephain batted the sketch away. “Man, I already
told
you—”

“I know that, sir,” Decker said, quickly. “And I respect that. But I also respect the
dead
. A monster removed your sister’s earthly body. But he couldn’t touch her soul. I know that for a fact because your sister, Stephain…her soul’s been talking to me.”

Stephain opened his mouth, then closed it, glaring at Decker. But he held his tongue. The entire room fell quiet. Out of the corner of his eye, Decker could see the perplexed look on Bontemps’s face, the Greens exchanging glances, the husband rolling his eyes. So they thought him strange. Anything to break the tension. He dropped his voice a notch.

“Your sister sent me here. She woke me up last night and said, ‘Sergeant Decker, you go out and talk to my family…talk to my brother, too.’ That’s what she said. Now I’ve got to respect that. So please…take a look at this picture…and tell me if the man looks familiar to you.”

Decker held out the sketch. Stephain didn’t bother to look. He spoke softly. “I think his name is Kalil Ashala.”

Decker’s expression remained fixed. As unobtrusively as possible, he took out his notebook. “Do you know how to spell that?”

Stephain stared into space. “Your guess is as good as mine. I only met him once.”

Decker said, “What do you know about him?”

“Not anything really,” Stephain said. “He’s an asshole. A typical gangbanger…you know, a dude with a ’tude looking for a free lunch.”

Bontemps said, “Does he live around here?”

Stephain shook his head. “South Central.”

Green took a step forward. “Where do you know this…person from, Stephain?”

“I don’t
know
him, Dad, I just met him once—”

“So how did you
meet
this person, Stephain?” Green said, speaking through clenched teeth.

“Through Deanna.”

The room fell quiet.

Dad tried to keep his voice even. “This boy was a friend of Deanna’s?”

Stephain shook his head. “His sister. His sister and Deanna were…friends.”

Again the room was quiet. Tony cleared her throat. “Stephain, please. This is no time to protect your sister. Was this man a…secret boyfriend?”

Stephain shook his head. “No, Mom. Nothing like that.”

“Nothing going on between them?” Decker asked.

“No.”

“You’re sure about that?” Bontemps said.

“Positive,” Stephain answered.

“How do you know?” Tony persisted.

“I just
know
, Mom. I just know.”

“We believe you,” Decker said, calmly. “So Kalil Ashala lives in South Central. Do you have an address?”

“In the seventies or eighties, east of Fig…I drove Deanna there once.”

“Why did you drive Deanna there?” Tony asked.

Stephain seemed subdued. “’Cause she asked me and you weren’t home.”

“I meant, what business did she have there, Stephain?”

“I told you she was friends with this guy’s sister.”

“What’s the sister’s name?” Bontemps asked.

“Fatima.”

“Fatima?” Tony asked, holding her cross. “Where did Deanna
meet
this girl?”

“I don’t know, Mom. I didn’t asked her. I just drove her to the house. I stopped in for a minute.” He looked
at Decker. “Did this guy mess up my sister?”

“I don’t know,” Decker said. “So
don’t
get any ideas.”

Stephain averted his eyes. “You’re telling me that you’re doing this…because my sister talked to you in your sleep?”

“Exactly.” Decker folded his notebook and shook hands with the Greens. “Thank you very much. I’ll be in contact soon.” He paused, turned to Green. “Please, sir, don’t do anything that might jeopardize my investigation.”

Green said nothing, his jaw working overtime.

“Did you hear me, sir?” Decker said.

“Yes, I heard you.” His eyes met Decker’s. “I heard you.”

But neither Decker nor Bontemps was convinced. Wanda raised her eyebrows and picked up her purse. Decker said, “Walk us out, Stephain.”

When they got to the curb, Decker’s eyes zeroed in on Stephain’s face. “You are going to let me handle this, right?”

The young man paused. “You know I could cut through it a lot faster than you.”

“Stephain, we got a concept in this country called due process. I’ve worked very hard on this case. I want to bring this bastard to justice. Don’t mess me up.”

The brother looked down, said nothing.

Decker said, “And while you’re watching your manners, keep a watch on your father for me. Last thing your mom needs is your dad in jail for acting impulsive.”

“Now that we’re alone,” Bontemps said, “are you still sure that this guy, Kalil, and your sister weren’t—”

“Yes.”

Softly, Decker said, “How about your sister and Fatima? Did they have something going?”

Stephain jerked his head up, but said nothing.

Decker said, “Like Officer Bontemps said, your par
ents aren’t here. Tell me about your sister’s relationships.”

Stephain looked away and said nothing.

Bontemps said, “If this guy’s involved, it’s going to come out, Stephain. Might as well tell us your side of the story.”

Stephain sighed, then sighed again. “Deanna…she belonged to this…there was a group of them at school. She probably met Fatima through them…one of her lezbo buddies. Dumb bulldyke bitch.” He looked up, eyes burning with ire. “This kind of shit wouldn’t have happened if she’d had a
man
to protect her.”

Bontemps was about to speak, but Decker threw her a look that silenced her. What was the use of quoting statistics? That on average four women a day are killed by exes, husbands, or boyfriends. No, no, no. They weren’t here to debate or educate. They were here to solve a homicide.

Decker said, “Thanks for your help, Stephain. I really mean that.”