The Night Gardener

'Now we've got this. And all the challenges that go with it.'

'And the good things, too.'

She had turned off her lamp, and they were in darkness, their eyes slowly adjusting to the absence of light. Ramone brushed his fingers down Regina's arm.

'What are we going to do about Diego?' said Regina.

'I talked to him,' said Ramone. 'He can finish out the year in his old school. It feels right. Next year we can put him in one of the blue-collar Catholic high schools. Carroll, DeMatha… either one of those would be a good place for him.'

'How're we gonna afford that?'

'It's not like it's a fortune. I'll sell the house in Silver Spring, I have to. Hell, the dirt alone's worth a bundle. We'll be fine.'

'Did you talk about Asa?'

'Yes.'

'How was Diego with it?'

'His world got rocked. He's probably stressing about all the times he called his friend soft or gay. Not knowing what that kid was going through inside.'

'Can you imagine what it's like to be that way in this climate? Being told all the time that you're not wanted, that there's no place for you in this new compassionate world. All the hate we got out here, and the politicians throwing gasoline on the fire. I don't know what Bible those haters are reading, but it's not the one I was raised on.'

'Forget about those fuckin idiots. What about everyday people who aren't about hate but still spread it? Diego didn't mean anything by those words, but now it's got him thinking hard on what comes out of his mouth. I been thinking on it myself.'

'You and all your friends.'

'You're right. Down at the office we go back and forth with that kinda shit all day. You'd look good in a dress, you've got gaydar… all that.'

'So you gonna change your ways now, huh?'

'Probably not,' said Ramone. 'I'm just a man, no more enlightened than any other. But I am gonna think twice before I talk that kind of trash. I hope Diego does, too.'

'What else you and your son talk about?' said Regina. 'You were in his room a while.'

'I was putting the last piece of the puzzle together on Asa's death. I was pretty sure I knew, but Diego confirmed it.'

'And?'

'You know how I always told him to be aware of any firearms in the homes of his friends?'

'I know. That's your biggest fear.'

'I've seen way too many accidents, Regina. Kids finding their fathers' guns and testing them out.'

'Okay.'

'Diego and his friends just have that knowledge. They read the gun magazines because they're boys and they're interested. The Spriggs twins know I have a Glock and that I keep it locked up. They all know these things.'

'Oh, Gus…'

'Diego says that Asa's father kept a revolver in their home. He didn't know if it was a thirty-eight. But I'm betting that it was.'

'Lord.'

'The ultimate fuck-you to his old man,' said Ramone. 'Asa killed himself with his father's gun.'

She hugged him tightly. They lay in the dark and neither of them could find sleep.

'Will you go to church with us on Sunday?' said Regina.

Ramone said that he would.

CHAPTER 39

After church. Ramone took the family to a restaurant over the District line for lunch. It was family owned and had survived despite the encroachment of the chains into downtown Silver Spring. Diego ordered the Vietnamese steak, his favorite dish, and Alana drank fresh lemonade and walked back and forth through the beaded curtains that led to the restrooms. Church had been much needed, and this was a nice way to continue the afternoon. Also, Ramone was putting off what he knew had to be done.

Back at the house, Ramone stayed in his suit and told Regina he'd be back soon. He dropped Diego, who had changed into shorts, Nikes, and a Ronald Spriggs-designed T, down at the basketball courts on Third, where Shaka was waiting. He instructed Diego to keep his cell on and to call either him or Regina if he went anywhere else. Ramone drove slowly over to the Johnson house. He parked but did not immediately get out of the car. He had told Bill Wilkins that he would update Terrance Johnson on the findings of the case. Now he almost wished he had let Garloo take the lead. He was about to tell Johnson that his son had committed suicide and that he had done so with Terrance's gun. In addition, he had to tell Terrance that Asa was gay. There was no predicting Terrance's reaction. But this needed to be done.

Terrance must have known that his gun was missing, and he had to have suspected that Asa took it. His fear would have been that Asa had been robbed of the gun and shot with it. The death of his son, coupled with extreme feelings of guilt, had shattered him. But even with that, he could not have imagined that Asa had used the gun on himself.

Ramone had not told Wilkins or any of his other coworkers about the gun. If Wilkins were to enter it into his paperwork, Terrance Johnson could be charged with possession of an illegal firearm. Only police officers, federal agents, and special security types were permitted to own handguns in D.C. Johnson had bought the thirty-eight hot or he had been a down-the-chain recipient of a straw purchase originated in Virginia or Maryland. Legally, he was wrong. But Ramone wasn't going to report it. Johnson had enough to live with. There wasn't a point in piling any more misery on him, his wife, and their last living child.

He wasn't going to be entirely forthcoming with Terrance Johnson, either. Ramone had deduced the identity of Asa's older boyfriend, called RoboMan in the journal. Asa's math teacher had said that Asa had come to him for extra-credit work after school the day of his death. But there were no such papers in Asa's locker, book bag, or bedroom. RoboMan had to be a thinly veiled moniker for Robert Bolton. Ramone had found Bolton extremely defensive on the subject of stereotyping young black men when they had their conversation. But he had been defending Asa. Bolton was in love with him.

Ramone would mention his suspicions to the people who worked in Morals. This kind of thing was out of his bailiwick. He simply didn't know what to do with what he'd found. He wanted to get rid of it.

He intended to keep information from his fellow officers in the MPD. He would keep information from the boy's father. It was like Holiday said: He wasn't so straight.

He got out of the Tahoe, walked up to the Johnson residence, and knocked on the front door. He heard Terrance Johnson's footsteps approaching. Ramone's impulse was to go back to his SUV. But the door opened, and he shook Johnson's hand and stepped into the house.

Dan Holiday Lit a cigarette and tossed the match into the ashtray before him. It sat next to a vodka tonic on the bar. He stood in the middle of a group including Jerry Fink, Bob Bonano, and Bradley West. They were kidding themselves with Bloody Marys. Holiday had no such self-delusions. He needed a real drink.

Leo's was empty except for Leo Vazoulis and the four of them. Fink had just returned from the juke. A strong horn-and-backup-girl intro, and then a husky male vocal came into the room.

'"It isn't what you got, it's what you give,'" sang Fink, doing the girl part.

'The Jimmy Castor Bunch,' said Bradley West, the writer.

'Nah, this was before the Bunch,' said Fink, 'and all that Troglodyte shit. Jimmy Castor was a soul singer before he was a novelty act.'

'Okay,' said West, 'I got the Bunch thing wrong. But here's the five-dollar question. What singer did Jimmy Castor replace in a famous group, way back in his career?'

'Clyde McPhatter,' said Fink. 'From the Drifters.'

'Wrong.'

Fink grinned stupidly. 'Bo Donaldson, from the Heywoods?'

'He replaced Frankie Lymon,' said West. 'As in, and the Teenagers.'

'The little junkie,' said Bonano. His cell phone, sitting on the bar, was playing Ennio Morricone's most famous theme, but Bonano was ignoring it.

'You owe me five,' said West.

'You take credit cards, right?' said Fink.

'Leo does,' said Bradley. 'Just buy the next round.'