Wrong Ways Down (10 page)

“Aye, Callie. Coursen I do.” Sort of. Shit. Remembered he’d never given her a ring-up after, aye, but not much else.

And double shit, causen that made it harder to ask her questions. He ain’t recalled she last name, iffen he’d ever knew it, or what she done for work. Thought she had a brother worked for Bump, in one of the warehouses or aught like that, but ain’t were certain. And he couldn’t ask on any of it without admitting he ain’t thought on her at all since he left her place however the fuck long ago it were. 

Best to try and run over all that. She probably weren’t too concerned on it just then anyroad, what with she man shot in the head. “With Gav now, aye? How long?”

“Why somebody killing he?” She ain’t seemed to hear him, hugging herself tighter, hunching she shoulders like she could hide in her red coat. “Why any wanna kill he? Weren’t a bad one, he weren’t. Ain’t done nowt hurting any here, ain’t getting he all involved up.”

Excepting for being lookout while a dame got raped, but Terrible ain’t said that. “How long you been with he? You knowing him friends, who he hang with?”

“Almost nine months now.” She’d started to look calmed down, but when she say that one her face crumpled again. “Were movin he outta here, we was, we finding our own place on Ace. Nicer, dig? Was gonna pay us the deposit first thing on the morrow, just got us the lashers together, just got he share a few days past.”

Fuck. “How much? How much the deposit?”

She blinked. “Why? Gave it me for holding, he done, he ain’t had it on he for robbing—”

“How much it were?” He stopped and took a step back, his breath making steam in the sharp cold air. “Might matter, aye? Needing the knowledge.”

She ain’t argued, or sat thinking, which were cool. “Five hundred.”

“How he getting it? He usually have that much?”

She glanced at the crowd behind them. It had got bigger; it were louder, and he heard scuffling feet, more than before. Somebody had lit up a firecan. The crowd’s bodies cast long spindly shadows on the street and walls, like fingers closing over him. “Thinkin them killed he causen they hearing him have money?”

Fuck, no. He were almost certain that weren’t it. But he ain’t could tell her that. “He usually have that much on he?”

A minute or two while she struggled again. Then, “Nay. Been tight last six months, real tight, ain’t had he much. Made he a score finally, though, he do, made he a score so’s we—so’s we can … ”

He saw it coming and lifted he hands from his sides, so when she fell forward into his chest he were ready. Felt awkward, and he ain’t really wanted to stand there holding her, but what the fuck else was he supposed to do?

Gave him a second to think, leastaways. So Gav’s duff game ain’t been going well—be why he squatting, aye. Then he met Callie, decided they’d set up house together, and all the sudden Gav needed he some money fast. Somebody came along offering he a chunk to be lookout … 

“Callie.” He hated asking, and knew what the answer’d be, but had to ask just the same. “He give you the tell how he getting it? The five hundred, meaning. He say on it?”

She shook her head. Just as he figured. “Why? It mattering? You think—he ain’t steal from somebody he oughtn’t, aye? You thinking that were it?”

“Naw,” he said, and leastaways that weren’t a lie. Weren’t who he stole from killed him; were them he’d helped steal done it, and saved Terrible the trouble.

And he’d have had to do it, too, kill Gav, causen Gav knew what he were doing. Had to know. Nobody were so fuckin dumb they thought five hundred were the right price for being a robbery lookout. Gav knew he were watching out for something hardcore; knew whoever paying he were taking a big fucking risk, so he probably knew Bump were involved with the victim. That kinda money told Terrible another thing, too. Whoever behind this all had it, lots of it.

One more thing it maybe gave him, but he had to check that one. “Callie,” he said. “Where Gav keeping he stuff he were gonna move?”

“Y
OU STILL LIVING
the same place?” he asked her, once he’d backed the Chevelle outen the alley. 

“Aye.” 

Fuck. He had no clue where she lived; he’d hoped she’d have moved and give him a new address, or she’d remind him. They’d met at Trickster’s, he thought, and walked to hers … ? Or ain’t that been her?

He glanced at her, tryna think of another way to ask, and found her half-smiling at him. “Ain’t worry you ain’t recalling,” she said. “Ain’t were expecting you to. True thing, Terrible, no problem. Were just fun, aye?” 

He tried to smile back, but stopped when she started crying again.

“Ain’t hadda worry on that with Gav,” she said, wiping her nose on the bottom of her skirt. “Nine months we been together … loved me, he did, we was gonna set up a house, gonna maybe have us a baby … why this happened? Why he be the one getting killed?”

Shit, what were he supposed to say? To hide his discomfort he pulled out a couple of smokes and offered her one. She shook her head. He lit his anyway. 

“Tryna find out,” he said finally, after the silence had gone on a few beats too long. “Tryna catch who done it, aye? You let me see what stuff he got you place, maybe we finding somethin tell us more.”

“Left on Fifty-third,” she said in reply, and ain’t spoke again except for giving him directions.

Turned out she lived up on Cole, little stone house behind a bigger one. Another memory clicked into place.

Still had them creepy pictures, he saw as soon’s she opened the door. Big-eyed kittens and unsmiling kids holding flowers, all staring right outen the walls at him like accusations or some shit. And from the other single bed up against the wall he guessed she still had that creepy roommate, too, the one asked him if she could have some of he blood for her collection. 

She’d said it were a collection, but he’d wondered iffen she were wanting it to do magic with; seeing the place now made him think he’d been right, causen just the briefest look around showed him shit people outside the Church weren’t supposed to have. Another thing he knew from Chess. He could imagine what she’d say about them freaky pictures, about the roommate who wanted blood; for a second he wished she were there with him. He could hear her voice in his head.

“He stuff be here,” Callie said. She’d been crying so much her voice sounded all scratchy. “These boxes. What you thinking you find? Why you looking?”

Only three boxes. Wouldn’t take long, but he already doubted he’d find aught to help him there. He’d been hoping to find something tell he who Gav’s friends were, what places Gav hung around. Them who killed him went to him for a reason, ain’t just picked he out of a crowd. Not for that kinda money, that kinda action. Any wanting a lookout for shit like that ain’t wanting to take a chance being snitched on when them lookout learned what crime they looked out for.

And they ain’t killed Gav right after. Which meant they’d figured on him keeping he mouth shut. They knew him. Had to know him, and trusted him. 

Callie took off her coat, revealing a shiny silver dress that showed lots of smooth brown skin, lots of curves, and that she weren’t wearing anything underneath. He felt guilty noticing, seeing as how her tears weren’t even all dry, but she ain’t seemed to care. She headed into the painfully bright pink kitchen, came out a minute later with a chipped mug full of what smelled like gin and a beer. She offered the beer to him; he took it but only pretended to sip. Aye, he were pretty certain she weren’t in on any of it, but he ain’t managed to live to be whatever age he were by not being paranoid.

He started digging through the first box, pulling out a tangle of limp button-down shirts and dressy-looking pants; Gav’s working clothes, guessing. “So who Gav’s friends were? You know any?”

“Said he only wanting be with me.” For a second he thought she were gonna cry again, but she pulled it together. “Mention he … Cartwheel, thinking it were. Were friends with some name of Loop. And were a dude Archie he talked on a lot the last month or so. Archie had a game for he, they was workin together or plannin to work or … ain’t for certain on all them details. Just knowing the name, Archie, an Gav all excited causen he was gonna bring some real lashers in, said—said he support me the way I oughta be, dig me, said I ain’t gonna be having to work no more … ”

“You meet he ever?”

“Nay.” She upended the mug over her mouth and swallowed the contents in one gulp. He guessed he’d do the same iffen he were in her shoes. “Went by he place on one time, waited in the car. Lived … Sixty-second, thinking? Were Tate Street, twixt Sixty-first an Sixty-second. Red building.”

“When this were?”

“Last week? Maybe a few days more. Ain’t long past. Gav saying—Gav saying Archie real smart, got work for he, a real living.”

“Archie working the duff, too?”

“Gav saying some on legit work, dig. Real work, like a straight job. Ain’t knowing iffen that were Archie or no.” 

The next box looked to be Gav’s work shit; a smaller box full of fake diamond rings and bracelets, some coins in little plastic bags like the kind for speed, coils of what looked like gold but weren’t. That kinda shit. A stack of fake papers, too, certificates of authenticity and insurance papers and like that, to back up the scam. Why Gav ain’t had any lashers, iffen he had all this? Looked like good quality, too, like he spent some getting it.

Maybe that were why he were broke. He turned to Callie, who sat on she crazy roommate’s bed watching him. “Gav ain’t been making much on he games, aye?”

“Been lean times.” She took a deep shuddery breath. “Saying he figured all be right up in place on the next month. So I covering until then, covering we meals and all.”

He couldn’t help it; first thing he wondered was iffen Gav working he another long game on Callie. She paying all nine months gone? Fuck. He ain’t never heard of a plain duff game running that long. And what Gav had in he box ain’t looked near sophisticated enough for the kinda game that did.
That
kinda game were about lines of credit and leases and vacation homes and shit; had to be able to talk smart and look rich, and Gav’s collection of khakis and fake engagement rings were nowhere near that kinda thing.

So the idea that Gav had been planning something for nine months … he ain’t could help thinking it sounded more like maybe Gav found heself a free ride. He hoped he were wrong. Callie ain’t deserved some shitbag made a dame pay his way. “Why he ain’t moving in here with you?”

She gestured at the bed she sat on. “Viola ain’t liking me having dudes here all night. Got real mad, she done, when he tried stayin more’n one in a row. So … we was waiting till we could afford we own place. Stayed with he most nights, I done, only with it bein so cold now … ”

He felt like there oughta be some more he could say or something, the way she kept crying. But what else was she supposed to do, and what was he supposed to do? Couldn’t stand there all night holding she hand. He had to work. And he ain’t knew her, not really. One night a year or so past, and he ain’t seen or talked to her again. He ain’t had the faintest idea how to help her feelings, and ain’t had the time neither. Made him feel bad, but were true all the same.

“He give you any else? Gave you aught might explain on this, might give me someplace to look?”

 She sighed, a real long heavy sigh. “Say the new thing were real solid, say would pull in lots and make em rich. Bigger … bigger something, he done said. Something selling itself, he ain’t hardly having to work it, he say. But that all he say, aye? Ain’t gave me any else. Saying wanting surprise me.”

He sorted through the last box fast as he could. Some pictures of what looked like Gav’s family. Couple notebooks; he grabbed them, too. More clothes … nothing else he might could use.

He waved the notebooks at Callie. “Taking these, aye? Can bring em back if you’re wanting, on the later.”

She nodded. He got the feeling she were ready for him to go. Ain’t could blame her there. Iffen he were her he wouldn’t want to watch him digging through she boyfriend’s shit neither. He’d want to be alone. Felt like she sadness were so big it filled the room, and ain’t left much space for him.

He headed for the door, paused in front of her. What was he supposed to say there? “Gonna find who done this, aye? I find em. You recall any else you thinking be good knowledge for me, even any you thinking maybe ain’t important, you let me know, aye?”

“Ain’t got you number,” she said. 

Shit. He ain’t gave out he actual number much. Wouldn’t have thought twice on giving her the street-man number usually, but given that he’d seen her naked … he’d feel like an asshole giving her a number answered by somebody else.

So he scrawled down his, opened he wallet. He ain’t had much on him; only fifty, but he handed it over. “Here. For the knowledge, aye? An gimme a ring-up iffen you recall aught, or any else happens. Maybe you hearing from somebody knew he, or like that. Lemme know.”

He wondered if she would.

Archie had the look Terrible had seen before, like he figured he were the smartest, coolest dude ever walked on the ground. Like he jerked off into a mirror.