'Social Security card, four dollars, a condom, and a photo ID from a drug store in his wallet. Address is on MLK Drive near Michael Reese Hospital.'
Lieberman nodded and turned to Albert Davis.
'One of your friends is dead,' he said.
'Dead?' Dalbert said, looking at each of the two uniformed policemen for confirmation. 'Which one?'
'What do this lago and Lonny look like?' Lieberman said.
'How you know their names?' Dalbert said in panic.
'You told them to us a minute ago, Albeit,' Lieberman said calmly. 'You want to know which one is dead and which one got away?'
'Got away? lago's a skinny kid. Lonny's big, got a scar like lightning over his eye.'
'Last names, Albert,' Lieberman pressed.
'Nobody calls me Albert. Dalbert. I'm Dalbert. Get me a damn doctor. Who's dead?'
'Names, Dalbert?'
'I don't know no last names,' the young man said sullenly as a paramedic in blue hurried into the room.
'lago's dead,' Lieberman said.
Dalbert bit his lower lip, nodded, and went silent as the paramedic knelt to rip away his trousers and examine the bullet wound.
'Touch nothing and call Evidence,' Lieberman told the two officers. 'Leave the weapon where it is.'
Both cops nodded.
There was nothing on the steps as Lieberman walked down, nothing but a trail of Guy Matthews's blood. Outside, the door to the ambulance was just closing. A second ambulance was rolling down the street.
The crowd had grown. Jensen and Shea had moved forward to help control it, but the sight of Bill Hanrahan, blood covering his mouth and face, was enough to restrain even the most adventurous of the gawkers. Hanrahan was doing his best to remove the Wood with a handkerchief, but he wasn't making much headway.
'How you doin', Father Murphy?'
Hanrahan nodded.
'I'll be fine, Rabbi.'
'Dead kid's name is Lago,' said Lieberman, looking at the sheet that now covered the body. 'One that got away is Lonny. I've got a description.'
Jensen walked back to the detectives and said, 'Woman in the crowd, owns the restaurant over mere. She says the one that got away ran through the alley going south. She thinks he had a gun in his hand.'
'Thanks,' said Lieberman.
Jensen glanced at Hanrahan's ghoulish face and moved back to help control the crowd.
Police cars were pouring in now, lights flashing. The sound of the siren diminished as the ambulance carrying the fallen officer sped toward Edgewater Hospital. Applegate and Acardo piled out of one of the cars.
'Where's Berry?' asked Lieberman.
'Went in the ambulance with Matthews,' said Hanrahan.
'Let's go in the restaurant and get you washed up,' said Lieberman.
'He's not that far ahead of us, Abe,' Hanrahan said, moving toward the restaurant 'I'll make the calls,' said Lieberman as the crowd parted to let the hulking, bloody policeman through.
Lieberman brought Applegate and Acardo up to date and left them to pick up the pieces and put the story together.
Lieberman went to his car and made the calls. Comb the neighborhood looking for a young black man with a lightning scar through his eyebrow. Probably armed. Definitely dangerous. Try to head off the north- and southbound el trains and search them. Check the buses. Check the cabs. It wouldn't be fast enough, Lieberman knew, but it had to be done. The young man named Lonny was probably out of the neighborhood by now. Alone, afraid, and armed. A very bad combination.
Lieberman got an idea. He called the Chapultapec Restaurant on North Avenue.
'Si, ' a man's voice answered.
'Es Emiliano all asked Liebetman.
'iQuien es esto?'
'Lieberman. Es necesario que hablo con Emiliano inmediatamente.'
'Emiliano no estd aqui.'
'Buscale. Tiene prisa. Diga que tengo algo a decir de Chuculo Fernandez. Comprende?'
'Comprendo. Su numero?'
Liebennan gave the number of the T and L Deli and told the man on the phone that he'd be there in fifteen minutes.
'Bueno,' said the man and hung up.
The car door opened and Hanrahan, his hair and jacket front wet, slid inside.
'You clean up good, Murph.'
'Compulsive cleaner, Rabbi.'
'I know. You up for an early lunch?'
Lieberman put the car in gear as Hanrahan smiled and nodded.
Fifteen minutes later they parked on Devon, half a block from Maish's T amp; L. The clouds complained but didn't burst as they moved past Kim the Korean's Devon Television/VCR Repair Shop, the Dollar Store, also owned by Kim, and the Pistoki brothers' fruit market.
The T and L was empty except for Maish behind the counter reading a book and one Alter Cocker, the redheaded Al Bloombach, who sat alone at the table reserved for the old men, a coffee and half-eaten bagel in front of him. Something was cooking for the lunch crowd. A cabbage pot. Lieberman was sure it was a forbidden cabbage pot. Torture inflicted by Dr. Jacob Berry, who, when he came out of his minishock, would face a far greater torture.
'Where's everybody?' Lieberman asked.
'Baseball game. Syd's son rented a van. They all go to the ball game,' explained Al Bloombach.
'And you?' asked Lieberman, moving with Hanrahan to the counter and sitting on the red leatherette stool.
'My sciatic,' said Al. 'Who wants to sit in the rain with sciatic? And to tell the truth, I'm not such a big baseball fan. Give me the football and I'll watch till the last rumble.'
Maish looked up from his book and met his brother's eyes.
'How's Yetta?' asked Abe.
'She's Yetta,' said Maish with a shrug.
'How's Maish?'
'You know. Nothing Bothers Maish,' Maish said. 'What can I get you, William?'
'Coffee. What's good on rye today?'
'A Sandy Koufax. Pastrami, chopped liver, and cole slaw with a pickle,' said Maish.
'Heartburn heaven,' Al Bloombach called.
'I'll take it,' said Hanrahan.
'Abe?' asked Maish.
'Seltzer and toast me a bagel. No butter.'
'Diet again?' asked Maish.
'Cholesterol's a little high,' said Abe.
Maish called the order back to Manuel in the kitchen and turned his homely bulldog face to his brother.
'We're coming over Friday for dinner,' Maish said. 'Bess invited.'
'Dinner and services,' said Abe.
'I'm not going to services anymore,' said Maish, finding a spot on the counter that may have been a smudge of mustard. He attacked it with a wet cloth. 'I'm not on speaking terms with God right now. When your only son is gunned down by a crazy man in the street for no reason, you tend to get that way. It's reasonable. What d'you think, William?'
Maish poured a cup of coffee and set it down in front of Hanrahan.
'I'm a Catholic,' he said.
