the darkness next to a tree one block from the jail. I would’ve turned up my collar and smoked a cigarette like any self-respecting private eye, but I had on a hooded sweatshirt and I don’t smoke.
A Lexus SUV pulled up in the “No Parking” area in front of the jail at 11:58. The Lexus SUV was the pimpmobile of our times, replacing the Cadillac and Lincoln. I suppose today’s pimps did a lot of camping.
A black guy wearing a bright blue, baggy FUBU warm-up got out of the Lexus, lit a cigarette, and leaned against the front fender. He was a ways away but he looked like he could’ve been the guy from the website with Shony. The Lexus had gold trim all over it, and someone had taken great pains to wax the thing.
At 12:01, half a dozen people walked out of the front door. There were five men and one woman. Two of the men hooted and hollered when they walked out and gave each other high-fives. The other two men went in opposite directions, both lighting up cigarettes as if choreographed.
The woman was Stephanie, and she walked toward the Lexus. The black guy put out his cigarette and, without any acknowledgement toward Stephanie, got in the Lexus and started it up. Stephanie got into the passenger seat and the Lexus drove away.
I looked down to my private-eye partner, Al, and said, “I think we just met Tyrone.”
I didn’t have a whole lot of time to bask in the pride of my tremendous detective work. Before Al and I could step off the curb in the direction of the Eldorado, there was a screeching of tires and the slamming of doors, followed by a bunch of yelling.
“Hands up, hands in the air!” the guy jumping out of the silver Crown Victoria said. He was wearing a blue blazer with gray pants, though I didn’t get the color of his tie because I was busy looking at the gun pointed at my chest. He had a partner who had circled around the car and he, too, had his gun drawn.
I tried to put my hands in the air, but that pulled Al’s leash, which caused him to yelp and then bark. Both suits focused their guns on Al momentarily, then back at me. I could tell they couldn’t make up their minds which of us was more dangerous.
“Sorry-what do you want me to do?” I said.
“Make the dog shut up,” came from blue blazer who seemed to be in charge of talking. He had a Middle Eastern complexion with slicked-back, very dark hair and very bushy eyebrows.
“I don’t know how to do that,” I said.
The other guy who looked about twenty-five was about five foot eleven, 185 pounds. He had blond hair and it looked like he didn’t shave yet.
Al just kept barking and the two guys looked bewildered. I probably would have been much more frightened if Al wasn’t making such a racket. Too much was happening too fast.
“Tie the dog to the streetlight and get in the car,” Blue Blazer said.
“He’s not going to like that.”
“You think we’re playing games here!” He waved the gun toward the pole.
I tied Al to the pole, which thoroughly pissed him off. Then I got into the back seat with the two guns pointed at my face. The Middle Eastern guy had a pockmarked face and perfect white teeth, which made for a strange combination. Blondie had a slightly turned-up nose, which made him look even more juvenile than he already did.
Al wouldn’t shut up and the noise was deafening, even with the windows up.
“What do you know about Alfinuu?” Pockmark said.
“Not much, just-”
“Stop fucking around, sticking your head where it doesn’t belong.” He didn’t wait for an answer. “Leave things alone.”
“What are you talking about?” This was getting weird.
“Alfinuu is nothing to mess with. Stay away-it’s a matter of national security.”
“Don’t you guys have to tell me who you are?”
“Duffy, you watch too many movies,” Pock said, which caused his pubescent partner to snicker. “Never mind about the girl too.”
“The girl?”
“Don’t fuck around with us. Do what you’re told. Go to the gym, go do some counseling, I don’t care, but stop looking into things that ain’t your business.” He paused for emphasis. “You hear me? Leave it alone-all of it.”
The car got quiet, which all of a sudden made me realize Al wasn’t barking. I looked at the streetlamp and Al’s collar and leash were there and he was gone.
“Al!” I yelled and went to bolt out the door but they were locked. “He’s gone-let me out.”
Pockmark laughed at me. “Word to the wise, Duff-do what you’re told and leave things alone. Now, get out of here and go find your fuckin’ dog.”
I heard the electric locks disengage and I ran out the car and into the street screaming for Al. I had no idea how to find a runaway dog, and in my panic I wasn’t being terribly strategic. I sprinted up one street and down the other, getting funny looks from the street whores and low-level crack dealers.
“Allah-King, Allah-King!” I screamed until I was hoarse. I was looking down driveways, in alleys, and behind abandoned buildings. Between the running and my anxiety I could feel myself running out of gas.
In the distance, a couple of blocks over, I thought I heard something. I didn’t waste time running around the block-I ran right through four backyards, jumping fences, and two streets over, I saw him and it dawned on me. This was where I should have started the search.
Al was on Walanda’s porch scratching at the front door, whimpering and then barking out of frustration.
“C’mere boy, it’s all right, it’s all right,” I said. It took him a little while to come to me, and when he did, he looked up and whimpered.
“It’s okay, buddy. Let’s go home,” I said.
We started to walk and he stopped and looked back at the house a couple of times.
I thought about the jail, I thought about Tyrone, and I thought about my visit from the men in the Crown Vic. I thought about Walanda and I thought about Shony. I thought about Al.
And I thought I’d be damned if I was going to leave anything alone.
28
It was Wednesday and I had until Monday to nurse my irritable bowel syndrome, which didn’t give me a whole lot of time. I had learned that there were some connections, but I still wasn’t sure what they connected to. There was definitely some skuzzy business going on involving three scumbag chicks from Forrest Point, there was a bald biker guy who was connected to them who also beat me and Al, and there was Tyrone, a former significant other to Walanda whose highlighted resume sections included pimp and pervert. He was connected at least to Stephanie and Melissa, but maybe most disturbing was that he had voiced a desire to get Shondeneisha into prostitution or something equally as vile. Then there was the Crown Vic.
I needed to find out more about the connections, and I figured my best bet was to hang around the Eagle Heights clinic because eventually Stephanie had to show up there. Usually, post-jail assessments occurred within forty-eight hours of release, and because it was part of probation, the clients usually kept those appointments, even if they dropped out of treatment shortly after that. Probation officers had a habit of checking on the first-visit attendance but after that losing track of the clients on their caseloads.
If I was going to keep my eye on the Eagle Heights clinic, I had two choices. I could sit outside the clinic for the next forty-eight hours, which was going to be very tedious and there was always the danger of being spotted by Stephanie, Tyrone, and Baldy, or by the clinic staff. If the first group spotted me, that could cause them to be suspicious and might bring on another surprise visit from Baldy. This time it might mean more than a warning.
If the clinic staff spotted me and it got back to Claudia, then that would probably blow my sick-time claim and I’d get fired faster than Claudia could buy a new pair of elastic-waist pants. The best chance I had was to get ahold of Katy and see if she could get me some information and be quiet about it. If it got back to Claudia, I was in trouble, and if it got to Rhonda, I was probably in trouble. The fact of the matter was that I was likely to get in trouble no matter what I did. I guess I was already in my fair share of trouble and was probably going to lose my job for a bunch of reasons, so-what the hell?
