“Sir?”
“What’d she do?” Clogged voice. Slurred enunciation.
“Why would you think she did anything?”
“You’re not here…because you…like my cooking.”
“You cook, huh?”
The man chomped the candy bar. The interior of his mouth was more gap than tooth.
Warm day but dressed for chill. Snarfing sugar, rotten dentition. No need to roll up his sleeves; I knew we wouldn’t be invited inside.
Milo said, “So you remember Patty Bigelow.”
No answer.
“Do you?
“Yeah?”
“She’s dead.”
The brown eyes blinked. “That’s too bad.”
“What can you tell us about her, sir?”
Ten-second delay, then a long, slow, laborious head shake as the old addict nudged the door with his knee. Milo placed a big hand on the knob.
“Hey.”
“How well did you know Ms. Bigelow?”
Something changed in the brown eyes. New wariness. “I didn’t.”
“You were living here at the same time she was.”
“So were other people.”
“Any of them still around?”
“Doubt it.”
“People come and go.”
Silence.
“How long have you been living here, sir?”
“Twenty years.” Glance down at his knee. “Gotta take a leak.” He made another halfhearted try at closing the door. Milo held fast and the guy started to fidget and blink. “C’mo-on, I need to-”
“Friend, I’m a murder guy, don’t care what magic potion gets you through the day.”
The man’s eyes closed. He swayed. Nodding off. Milo tapped his shoulder. “Trust me, pal, I’m not on speaking terms with any narcs.”
The eyes opened and shot us a who-me? “I’m clean.”
“And I’m Condoleezza Rice. Just tell us what you remember about Patty Bigelow and we’ll be out of your life.”
“Don’t remember anything.” We waited.
“She had a kid…okay?”
“What do you remember about the kid?”
“She…had one.”
“Who’d Patty hang with?”
“Dunno.”
“She have any friends?”
“Dunno.”
“Nice lady?”
Shrug.
“You and she didn’t hang out together?”
“Never.”
“Never?”
“Not my type.”
“Meaning?”
Another look at his knee. “Not my type.”
“When she lived here did anything of a criminal nature go down near the building?”
“What?”
“Murder, rape, robbery, et cetera,” said Milo. “Any of that happen here while Patty Bigelow lived here?”
“Nope.”
“What’s your name, sir?”
Hesitation. “Jordan.”
“That a first or a last?”
“Les Jordan.”
“Leslie?”
“Lester.”
“Got a middle name?”
“Marlon.”
“As in Brando.”
Les Jordan shifted his weight. “Gotta piss.”
From the stain spreading at his crotch, truth in advertising.
He stared at it. No embarrassment, just resignation. His eyelids fluttered. “Told you.”
Milo said, “Have a nice day,” and turned heel.
The door slammed shut.
Most of the other tenants were out. The few we found were too young to be relevant.
Back in the car, Milo phoned Detective Sean Binchy and asked him to run a criminal check on Lester Marlon Jordan.
While we waited, I said, “Sean’s back on Homicide?”
“Nah, still wasting his time on armed robberies and other trivial matters. But the lad’s grateful for my tutelage so he avails himself-yeah, Sean, hold on, lemme get a pen.”
When he hung up, he said, “The charming Mr. Jordan has accumulated multiple arrests. Possession of heroin- big shock-and disorderlies. Five dismissals, three convictions, all bargained down to short stretches at County.”
“Choosing the right lawyer,” I said.
“Or he’s too penny-ante to waste prison space on. Mister Rogers might love all his neighbors but you’d think Patty woulda been more discriminating.”
“Maybe there’s a reason for that.”
“Such as?”
I took a deep breath, unloaded my dope suspicions.
“Respectable nurse dealing hospital junk on the side?” he said. “Rick considers her next to saintly and my impression was you concurred.”
“I do. Just thought I should mention it.”
“Dealing,” he said. “Jordan did get a little edgy when I pushed him about knowing her…know what I find interesting? Here’s Patty, an alleged solid citizen living in a dive, and once she moves from there, she’s hopping around every coupla years. But a scuzzy junkie like Lester Jordan manages to stay at the same address twenty years.”
“Maybe his family owns the building.”
“Or he got a source of steady income that’s managed to elude the justice system.”
“Simple possession raps, but he deals,” I said.
“He’s made it this far without dying, Alex. Having some control over the product would help. Nice respectable hospital nurse moves in, you can see his digging that.”
“For Tanya’s sake I hope that stays a theory.”
“Tanya’s the one did the Pandora bit.”
