or four men — impossible to see exactly how many — lying on the floor. Their movements were languid, heads and shoes lolling, shadows, no more.
‘Jesus,’ I hissed, feigning anger to mask my embarrassment.
‘Hey, that’s my works, brother,’ a voice said.
Gittens pointed to a needle and syringe on the table: a works. ‘No one’s touching your works, brother. Everything’s okay’
Kelly, who had to stoop to avoid bumping his head, poked at the things on the table with his nightstick, careful not to touch anything barehanded.
Meanwhile Gittens moved into the darkness at the other end of the trailer. ‘Everything’s fine,’ he cooed to the men who lay on the floor side by side, ‘everything’s peachy’ He snapped rubber gloves onto his hands and straddled the first of the sleepers, bending over and laying a latex hand on the man’s side. ‘How you doing down there, my friend?’ There was no response. ‘Who do we have here? Come on, Sleeping Beauty, show me that pretty face. Any of you fellas seen Ray Ratleff? Huh?’ He stepped across the bodies as if they were fallen logs. ‘Who do we have here? Bobo! Hey, pal. Come on, Bobo, wake up a minute, I need to talk to you.’ The figure groaned and tried to push Gittens away. ‘Come on, Bobo, nap time’s over.’ He reached under the guy’s armpits and pulled him up to a sitting position. While Gittens steadied Bobo with one hand, he reached into his coat pocket and fished out a pair of rubber gloves for me. When I’d stretched the gloves over my hands, Gittens and I walked Bobo over to the table.
Bobo turned out to be a frail, bone-thin man in his late twenties. Lifting him was like lifting an old woman. Bobo wore filthy work pants and a Lakers sweatshirt. On his head was a Greek fisherman’s cap, though Bobo’s cap was made of black leather, a design modification no Greek fisherman would approve. He was suffused in body odor.
We deposited Bobo in the good chair, and Gittens perched on the three-legged one, bracing himself to keep from toppling forward. He slid the empty drug packets to one side, careful not to drag the sleeve of his sweater on the tabletop.
‘Bobo, we need to find Ray.’
Bobo groaned sleepily. His head slumped. I held his shoulders so he wouldn’t slide right off the chair.
‘Bobo, come on, I know you can hear me. Have you seen Ray Rat?’
Bobo managed to force an eye open a crack. ‘Gittens,’ he moaned.
‘Bobo, have… you… seen… Ray… Ratleff?’
‘Gittens.’ Bobo laughed at a joke that only he’d heard. ‘Gittens, what are you doing here?’
‘Where’s Ray?’
‘I don’t know no Ray.’
‘Come on, don’t fuck around. You know who Ray is.’
Bobo thought it over. ‘Oh, Ra-a-ay. With like a big ‘fro? Doctor-J-lookin’ motherfucker?’
‘Yeah, Bobo, that’s the one. You seen him?’
‘No, man, he gone away. Ray’s away.’ He laughed. ‘Ray zway’
‘Where’s he away to?’
‘I think he’s in that — whaddaya call it? — witness p’tection program.’
‘Yeah?’
‘Yeah. They made him, like, a farmer.’
‘Bobo, we don’t have a witness protection program. That’s the feds.’
‘No, it’s true. He lives in Connecticut someplace.’
‘Bobo, Ray can’t even spell Connecticut.’
‘Enough of this bullshit,’ Kelly cut in. ‘Detective, may I?’
Gittens gestured with his arm, Be my guest.
Bobo sensed what was about to happen. He struggled to his feet, ready to defend himself.
‘Sit down,’ Kelly ordered.
Bobo did not sit down — unwisely, as it turned out.
Kelly’s baton whirled squarely into Bobo’s crotch. There was a liquid thwop! and Bobo dropped to the floor.
‘There,’ Kelly announced, ‘I think we have his attention now. Ben, put him back in the chair. Detective Gittens, you can ask your questions now.’
‘My balls!’ Bobo gasped. I said, ‘I know. Your balls.’ I stole a glance at Kelly, who was wiping the nightstick on the leg of his pants. He saw me looking but avoided my eyes.
Softly, Gittens asked, ‘Bobo, have you seen Ray?’
‘Yeah. I seen him.’ Bobo was still bent over, wheezing, cupping his genitals.
‘When was that?’
‘I don’t know, like a couple nights ago. He come here looking for a package. He was all like, can I help him out?’
‘Did you sell him the package?’
‘You want to read me my rights, Steve McGarrett?’
‘What time did he show up?’
‘I don’t know. Late. I was occupied.’
‘Did he say where he was staying?’
‘No.’
‘How did he get here? Did he walk, drive?’
‘He drove.’
‘Drove what?’
‘Some Japanese thing. Shitsu, something like that.’
‘A Shitsu?’
‘Yeah, Shitsu.’
‘What the hell’s a Shitsu?’
‘It’s a car.’
‘There’s no car called a Shitsu.’
‘What can I tell you? That’s what the man had.’
Gittens frowned. ‘What color?’
‘I don’t know. Brown, orange maybe. I couldn’t see.’
‘A brown Shitsu. That’s very helpful. Was anyone with him?’
‘I don’t know, Gittens. It’s getting hard to remember.’
Gittens pulled out a roll of cash in a money clip. He peeled off two twenties and dropped them on the table. ‘It’s important, Bobo.’
‘How important?’
Gittens threw another twenty on the table. ‘Bobo, I need to find Ray Rat before Braxton does.’
‘This is me and you, right? ‘Cause me and Ray, we go back, alright? Back in the day we was-’ Bobo held up two fingers together to indicate how tight he once was with Ray Ratleff.
Gittens nodded but gave no assurance he would keep the tip confidential. ‘Ray’s dead, Bobo. Braxton’s looking for him. Unless I find him first, Ray’s dead.’
Bobo studied the three bills on the table. ‘Ray’s got a sister lives in Lowell. The cops already talked to her, only she told them Ray wasn’t there. I don’t know her name. She stays with this guy Davy Diaz. He drives a Harley. Ray might be there.’
Gittens nodded again to signal he understood.
‘I said he might be there, right, Gittens? You remember that.’
‘I’ll remember, Bobo. It’s alright.’ Gittens dropped another twenty on the table, like an afterthought.
‘Gittens, you find Ray, you’ll help him out, right? Ray didn’t do nothing. It was that DA put him in the middle of all this. The DA was the one put all these ideas in Ray’s head.’
‘I know, Bobo.’
‘You can see what’s happening here, right? You can stop this, I know you can. You help him.’
‘Gittens, you just gave that guy eighty bucks.’
