Peterson decided to go out there and tell the man that his probation officer was going to make it. But when he went to where the offender had been sitting, the dog catcher, or whatever he was, was gone.
CHAPTER 24
Deacon Taylor sat under the wheel of his E-Class, parked on Iowa Avenue, with Marcus Griffin beside him. Griff's midnight blue Infiniti was parked on the street as well. In view was Roosevelt High. Across from the school, a group of young men sat on the porch of a row house, smoking marijuana and drinking from bottles in paper bags.
'Here go his Lex,' said Deacon, watching as Nigel Johnson's import rolled slowly down the street.
'Looks like he got Graham with him,' said Griff.
'That ain't no surprise.'
'What you want me to do?'
'Watch my car, is all. Me and Nigel gonna go down to the track, walk around it some.'
'And do what?'
'I'm gonna listen, mostly,' said Deacon. 'When I come back, I'll tell you what I learned.'
Nigel parked on Iowa. He got out of the Lexus with two cigars in hand and walked across the street. Deacon met him in the middle of the street, and the two of them shook hands. Nigel offered Deacon a cigar and Deacon accepted. Nigel lit Deacon's cigar, then put fire to his own. They agreed to go down to the sky blue running track that encircled the football field in Roosevelt's bowl.
Griff leaned his back against the Mercedes and folded his arms. Graham affected the same pose against the Lexus. They stood on opposite sides of the street and stared at each other without animosity. They were playing their roles. As they stared, their bosses went along a high fence, entered the school grounds through an open gate, and descended the stadium stairs.
Down in the bowl, on the lighted track, Deacon Taylor and Nigel Johnson walked side by side, occasionally dragging on their Cubans. Nigel wore pressed jeans and a short-sleeved silk designer shirt. Deacon was dressed in a similarly casual, expensive way.
'You look good, big man,' said Deacon.
'You too,' said Nigel. 'Prosperous.'
'I'm tryin'. Game ain't gettin' any easier.'
'Tell it,' said Nigel. 'All this death too.'
'My sympathy for your losses,' said Deacon. 'Want to put that out front straight away.'
'I appreciate that,' said Nigel. 'Losin' DeEric was one thing. But to lose Michael Butler over something that foolish—'
'I know,' said Deacon. 'I know.'
'That boy was good.'
'What I heard.'
'Course, this whole thing got to rollin' off a misunderstanding started by my own. I admit that. I wanted to get up with you and make it right, but this thing happened before I could.'
'I told my people to talk to Green. Make it known, in no uncertain terms, that he made a serious mistake. But understand, I didn't order no hit.'
'I never thought you did.'
'Rico Miller took it upon his self.'
'What I figured.'
'Now I got this other thing to deal with, the thing with the probation officer.'
'You know about that?'
'I didn't know shit about it till Homicide come knockin' on my door.'
'Bad business for all of us, Deacon. We can't be havin' our people involved in this kinda dirt. You fuck with police, even probation police, whole force gonna come down on you hard. I know Miller's your boy, but… question is, how we gonna handle this?'
'I'm not gonna handle it,' said Deacon. 'You are.'
'You givin' me permission to do what I need to?'
Deacon nodded.
'Why?'
'Straight business, like you say. I can't control Rico no more.'
'What about Lee?' said Nigel.
'Melvin with Rico, far as I'm concerned.'
'He been with you a while.'
'Police put him in the box, he gonna flip. Melvin can't jail again. He knows this.'
'And when this thing gets done, how you gonna play it?'
'Gonna have to make a show of it. Throw the funeral, buy the T-shirts, the flowers. Say the strong words that need to be said. But that's where it's gonna end.'
