Chevrolet across the alley.
Shutter fast, the wrestling cop was on his feet and across the alley. He and his partner hit the man at the same time, slamming him into the side of the Chevy.
“Freeze, you fucking freak show!”
The wrestling cop again cranked one of the man’s arms upward behind his back. I heard a thunk as the man’s head struck the car roof.
Woolsey and I got out and looked at the man draped over her car. His wrists were cuffed and the standing cop’s gun was at his temple.
Breathing hard, the wrestling cop kicked the man’s feet apart and frisked him. The search produced a Glock 9 -millimeter semiautomatic and two Ziploc baggies, one filled with white powder, the other with small white tablets.
Tossing the Glock and drugs to his partner, the wrestling cop spun his collar. The standing cop caught the baggies and took a step back, keeping his gun barrel trained on the man’s chest.
Darryl Tyree regarded us with all-pupil eyes. One lip was bleeding. The ghetto gold chains were knotted, and the cornrows looked like they’d mopped an arena.
Slidell and Rinaldi holstered their guns and approached Tyree. Slidell was still breathing hard.
Avoiding eye contact, Tyree shifted his weight, shifted back, then back again, as though he wasn’t sure what to do with his feet.
Slidell and Rinaldi crossed their arms and regarded Tyree. Neither detective spoke. Neither moved.
Tyree kept his eyes on the ground.
Slidell dug out and tapped his Camels, extracted one with his lips, and offered the pack to Tyree.
“Smoke?” Slidell’s face looked scalded, his eyes furious.
Tyree gave a tight head shake, wiggling the tiny pigtails at his neckline.
Slidell lit up, inhaled, placed hands on hips, and exhaled.
“Rock and E-bombs. Planning a two-for-one sale?”
“I don’ deal.” Mumbled.
“I’m sorry, Darryl. I didn’t hear that.” Slidell turned to his partner. “You get that, Eddie?”
Rinaldi wagged his head.
“What’d you say, Darryl?”
Tyree slid his eyes to Slidell, but what little sunlight entered the alley was at the detective’s back. Squinting, Tyree turned his face to one side.
“Shit’s not mine.”
“I got just one problem with that, Darryl. The product was traveling in your pants.”
“I been set up.”
“Now who would do a thing like that?”
“I been around. Man makes enemies, you know what I’m sayin’?”
“Yeah, I know. You’re a tough guy, Darryl.”
“You got nothin’ on me. I’m jus’ goin’ ’bout my bidness.”
“What business would that be?” Slidell.
Tyree shrugged and kicked a heel at the gravel.
Slidell took a drag, dropped the butt, and gave it a twist with the ball of one foot.
“Who you serving for, Darryl?”
Another shrug.
“Know what I think, Darryl? I think you’re into some double-breasted dealing.”
Tyree wagged his head on his long, goose neck.
Slidell let loose a sigh, disappointed.
“These questions too tough for you, Darryl?”
Slidell turned to his partner. “What do you think, Eddie. Think maybe we’re going over Darryl’s head?”
“Could try a different approach,” Rinaldi said. “Learned that in my interrogation workshop. Vary the approach.”
Slidell nodded.
“How’s this?” Slidell turned back to Tyree. “Why’d you do Tamela Banks and her little baby?”
Tyree’s eyes showed the first hint of fear.
“I didn’t do nothin’ to Tamela. We was together.”
“Together?”
