“Your granny’ll be doing target practice, shooting the eyes out of the potatoes.”
I tagged after him and made a mental note to get my gun as soon as possible.
The front door to the building was unlocked. The overhead light still on. Inside, the small foyer was dark. Two doors led to the first-floor apartments. Ranger knocked on the left-hand door.
I looked at my watch. Seven forty-five. “It’s early,” I said.
“It’s Sunday,” Ranger said. “She’ll be getting ready for church. Women need time for their hair.”
The door opened the width of the security chain and two inches of face peered out at us.
“Yes?”
“Vanessa?” Ranger asked.
“That’s me,” she said. “What do you want? If you’re looking to rent we’re full up.”
Ranger badged her. “Bond enforcement,” he said. His voice was soft and polite. Respectful. “I’m looking for a man named Moses Bedemier. He was seen entering this house earlier this morning.”
“I don’t know anybody named Moses Bedemier.”
“White man,” Ranger said. “In his sixties. Balding. Wearing a gray overcoat. Probably came here looking to buy drugs.”
The door closed and the chain snapped off. “I didn’t see no jive junkie coming in here, and if I did I’d kick him out on his bony white ass. I’ve got kids in this house. I don’t put up with that kind coming around. I don’t put up with drugs in this house.”
“Would you mind if we check the upstairs apartments?” Ranger asked.
“Mind? Hell, I’d insist on it,” Vanessa said, disappearing into her living room, returning with a set of keys.
She was as wide as Lula, dressed in a red and yellow flowered cotton housecoat with her hair up in rollers. She had a grown daughter and grandchildren, but she didn’t look much over thirty. Maybe thirty-five. She knocked on the first door with a vengeance.
KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK!
The door opened and a slim young man squinted out at us. “Yuh?”
“You got anybody in here?” Vanessa asked, poking her head around the doorjamb, seeing for herself. “You doing business in here that you shouldn’t be doing?”
“No, ma’am. Not me.” He shook his head vigorously.
“Hmmm,” Vanessa said and moved on to door number two.
Again KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK.
The door was jerked open by a fat man wearing briefs and an undershirt. “Jesus fucking Christ,” he yelled. “What’s a man got to do to get some sleep around here?” He saw Vanessa and took a step back. “Oh, sorry,” he said. “Didn’t know it was you.”
“I’m looking for some nasty white guy,” Vanessa said, arms crossed, chin tucked in outraged authority. “You got one in here?”
“Nobody here but me.”
We all stood staring at door number three.
CHAPTER 11
Ranger motioned Vanessa to stand to one side, rapped on the door and waited for a response. After a moment he knocked again.
“Got a lady in here,” Vanessa said. “Moved in just last week. Name’s Gail.” She leaned past Ranger. “Gail? It’s Vanessa from downstairs, honey. You open the door.”
The bolt slid back and a young woman peeked out at us. She was painfully thin, with sleepy eyes and an open sore at the corner of her mouth.
“You have visitors this morning?” Vanessa asked.
The woman hesitated for a couple beats. Probably wondering what she should say. What new trouble was at her doorstep?
Vanessa looked beyond Gail. “There isn’t anybody else in there now, is there?”
Gail gave her head a vehement shake. “Unh-uh. And I didn’t invite nobody up here either. He just come of his own accord. Honest. It was some crazy white guy looking for my old man.”
Vanessa raised a disapproving eyebrow. “I was led to understand you were living alone.”
“My old man split on me. I got out of rehab, and he took off. He said he was worrying about things that been happening.” She made a gun with her thumb and forefinger. “Now he’s gone. Vanished. Poof.”
Ranger was hanging loose behind Vanessa. “Name?” he asked Gail.
Gail looked from Vanessa to Ranger to me. More indecision.
“WELL?” Vanessa demanded, loud enough to make Gail jump six inches.
“Elliot Harp,” Gail said, the words tumbling out of her mouth. “Everybody call him Harpoon. But I’m not his
