"I'm not sure when I'll be by again. This work I'm doing, it takes you different places, different hours."
"Well, you don't have to come here to see me, honey. I mean, you can if you want, or call me here or anything." She fumbled in her purse. "You have a pen?"
I gave her one. She wrote down her phone number and her address in a careful, round schoolgirl's hand. "Here!"
"Thanks, Cyndi."
"You know, it's funny. Blossom, she tried to talk me out of going out with you. She said you were some kind of trouble. I mean, can you imagine…her telling me something about men. Like she'd know a preacher from a pimp."
"Maybe she does."
"Not old Blossom. That girl's so straight. I told her she could go ahead and wait for Mr. Right. I was gonna have some fun while I'm still young. She said that was okay. Said you looked like Mr. Wrong to her."
"I'm just a man. Passing through."
She slid across the seat to me, one hip hard against mine, twisting her breasts against my chest, her lips so close I couldn't see her eyes.
"Well, Mr. Just Passing Through, you make sure you come and see me before you make up your mind, huh?" Kissing me hard, the backs of her fingers trailing across my fly. I pressed my hand against the back of her blouse as I kissed her. No straps. The hostess had seen it before I had.
"I won't," I told her.
She kissed me again, promising.
I watched her climb into her red car and drive off.
39
I SWITCHED THE Lincoln for the Chevy and made my way to the hideout, thinking it through. Cyndi wasn't going to work. She was connected, but to the wrong side of the night. I needed somebody wired in at the other end. The sniper wouldn't be wearing a double-knit leisure suit with a white belt and gold chains. Even the topless bars would be too bright for his eyes.
When I got downstairs it looked the same. Except for a canvas sack suspended from a beam in the ceiling by a short length of towing chain. I tapped the bag— it was stuffed with something. I looked a question at Virgil.
"Heavy bag," he said. "Best I could do. Lloyd, he's one angry young pup. I figured, let him pound on it awhile, work some of that stuff out. Like we used to do inside."
"Good idea. He know how to do it?"
"He don't have a clue. Figured maybe you'd show him a few things, give him something to work on while he's down here."
The kid was sitting on his cot, watching me in the faint light. "Would you?" he asked.
"Sure. But first, we got to talk." His face fell. "All of us talk," I said. The kid brightened up at that.
I sat down, lit a smoke. "First of all, we got to get us some breathing room. The cops still want you guys— we got to make that right."
"Roll on in?" Virgil asked. Ready for it, if that's what it had to be.
"I think so. The detective, the one who came to your house . the one who scammed you into waiting till his partner came up with a search warrant…?"
"Sherwood, he said his name was. Don't know if it was first or last. Sherwood."
"How'd he strike you?"
Virgil gave it some thought, rolling it around in his mind. Knowing this wasn't casual conversation to kill time. Doing time teaches you the difference.
"Smart."
"Straight?"
"Yeah, I think so. There's all kindsa dope money in Gary. I heard something about him. He was up there, got in some beef with the bosses about shaking down crack houses. But the way I heard it, he was just too rough on the dealers, not grafting."
"You got a lawyer? For Lloyd?"
"Yeah. Bart Bostick. I got his name from one of the guys I play with in Chicago."
"You talk to him since you went to ground?"
"No."
I dragged on my cigarette, thinking. "I can contact him easy enough. Give him some references. We need someone to go in the middle for us. Make a come-in deal with a walk-away in front, okay? You and Lloyd surrender, they got to cut you loose even if they hold Lloyd."
"Let 'em hold me."
"It won't fly, Virgil. You're on a minor league thing and they know it. Besides, I need you out on the street. I don't know my way around out here."
"You already did your part, brother. You did what I needed you for. Lloyd, he didn't do this thing. That's enough for me. His family, we'll take it from here."
"What good is that? You know Lloyd didn't do it. Me too. So what? So he goes to jail and you all wait for him. Keep enough money on the books for him to stay in smokes? There's going to be a trial. They don't have much, but maybe they got enough. Lloyd's got no alibi and he looks good enough. Maybe not good, but good enough, you understand? They want a sniper, big time. He wouldn't be the first man to go down for something he didn't do."
"What's left?"
"Lloyd didn't do it, somebody did. There's a sniper-rapist out there."
"You could find him?"
"Remember what you called me for. I don't know who he is, Virgil, but I know what he is."
"It's not yours." The kid spoke up. "Like Uncle Virgil said, it's family. I'm family. I didn't do it. But I've been talking to Uncle Virgil. I know what it takes. I won't disgrace my people— I done enough of that already."
"Who asked you?"
"Mr. Burke." The kid's voice was steady now. Not deeper, but stronger. Growing into his lines. "I don't mean no disrespect. I know what you did for me. Like Uncle Virgil promised me— you'd find the truth…make it come out. My part's now…I'll go to trial. Stand up. Like I'm supposed to."
"Yeah. You want to go to jail, Lloyd? Make it right? Your uncle Virgil ever tell you how he came to do time?"
"Burke!"
"Hey, let me tell him, Virgil. You been pushing the truth like it's cocaine. You got the boy high on it."
"Whatever I did, it's long dead. It's the past— this is now."
"What you did, you didn't have choices at the time, right? The way you saw it? We got some choices now. More cards to play." I turned to face the kid. "Your uncle, he stabbed a man. A man who needed killing. The reason's not important now— what I told you is the truth. But Virgil, he did the same thing today, he'd maybe have enough sense to know he didn't have to go to prison. See, your uncle, he didn't want the whole truth to come out…"
Virgil got to his feet. Lit a smoke, watching me closely. Not trying to stop it now.
"Listen close, Lloyd. Your aunt Rebecca, she knew a man back home. A bad man, with ugliness inside him. Rebecca met Virgil. And she started her life over. The way people got a right to, okay? She came to Chicago. She and Virgil, they got together. Got married. Virgil was working, this man came around to see Rebecca. She told him to get lost. But he kept coming back. He put some pressure on her. Virgil, you know him, he's a proud man. And Rebecca, she knew how proud a man he was. She wasn't thinking of herself, just of him. So when this other guy came back with some pictures…pictures she thought would hurt Virgil…he gave her a choice…get back together with him or he'd go to Virgil. You understand?"
The kid nodded, laser-focused on my voice, nothing else in the room for him.
"Rebecca stabbed him. A whole bunch of times. Virgil came home in the middle of it. Nobody knows whether he finished the job or if the man was dead when he walked in the door. Rebecca told the police she did it. Virgil told them it was his work. They kept it in their family— never told the Man the real truth. Never even tried to bring it in front of a jury. And Virgil went to prison."
I tapped a cigarette filter on my thumbnail. Virgil stood against the wall.
"What could they've done?"
"Who knows? I wasn't there. Put the body in a Hefty bag, throw it in the trunk of the car, take it to the city dump. Chop it into little pieces and feed it down the drain in the bathtub. Carry him up to the roof and leave him there. Pack their clothes, dump gasoline all over the body, and leave the Arson Squad to figure it out. Whatever. It doesn't matter. You try something, it don't work, you're no worse off, see? But Virgil, all he thought about was protecting Rebecca…and Rebecca, all she wanted to do was take the weight on herself. They never even got their stories straight, they was so busy confessing on themselves."