He nodded.
“Okay,” I said. “Why was everybody there?”
I already knew why, of course, but I wanted to get Anthony talking. I wanted the two of us to get into some kind of conversational rhythm that would help him relax.
“Mr. Spoon set it up, said he just wanted everyone to go to the Center and watch some TV, play some games, just chill, you know. And that’s pretty much what everyone was doin’, too. Mr. Spoon was walkin’ around, talkin’ to us about how we oughta get along like that all the time.”
“How’d the kids who were there react to that idea?” I asked.
“Shoot, you always got a few guys don’t wanna get along, but most of us at the Center tonight, we tired of all the yellin’ and screamin’ all the time. I mean, it was nice to just be there together without worryin’ about all that other crap. Things were goin’ okay ‘til T-Man showed up.”
“What happened then?”
“He came in and tole us that we wasn’t supposed to be talkin’ to no Gates, and then one of the Gates started getting’ in T-Man’s face and they was yellin’ at each other, but Mr. Spoon came over and said everybody better calm down. Then he went over to talk to some kids shootin’ pool, and the next thing I knew, there was fights everywhere.”
“You see who started it?”
“Nope, just all of a sudden, everyone’s fightin’, and somebody said the cops was comin’ and everyone started runnin’ outside.”
I couldn’t see any marks on Anthony’s face.
“Were you fighting?” I asked him.
“Un-uh,” he said. “It was crowded in there. There was more people just bumpin’ into each other than fightin’. I was just tryin’ to get outta the place.”
Anthony looked down at the floor for a minute.
“Besides, I promised my mom I wouldn’t do none of that stuff no more.”
“Good promise,” I said. “So what happened when you got outside?”
“Everybody was runnin’ around in the parking lot, and then somebody fired off a round, and then another one, and we heard sirens and everyone just took off.”
He paused and then said, “I heard Mr. Spoon got shot.”
“He’s gonna be okay,” I said. “Back up for a minute, okay? Who fired the shots?”
“I dunno. I was standin’ next to T-Man and Razor, and all three of us ducked when we heard the first shot.”
“You’re sure about that, that T-Man was next to you when you heard the shot?”
“You thinkin’ T-Man fired the shot, but he didn’t. Sure, he started the whole thing inside, but I was with him outside when we heard the shots. Besides, T-Man, he don’t usually do those kinds of things, he tells other people to.”
“What other people?” I asked.
Anthony hesitated.
I knew what was going on here. In Anthony’s world, or at least in the gang world he was trying to escape, a snitch was the lowest form of life. I could see that Anthony was trying to decide how close he was getting to that level, and as much as I would have liked to try to make him see that the whole snitch thing actually just protected the bad guys, I didn’t think this was the time or the place.
“Look, Anthony,” I said, “I’m not asking you to identify the shooter. I believe you when you say you don’t know who fired the shots. I’m just doing what I usually do in my job, ask lots of questions. Let me ask you this. You said you were with T-Man and Razor outside. Where was Rodney?”
Again the hesitation, but this time I got a response.
“I dunno. He was with us inside, but I didn’t see him after that.”
“Does Rodney ever carry a gun?”
“Not usually. He’s the muscle, you know? Mostly, though, Rodney, he just do whatever T-Man says.”
I didn’t want to push this any further. I was pretty sure Anthony had gone about as far as he was going to with me, for tonight, anyway, so I stood up and started for the door. When I got there, I turned and said, “Thanks, Anthony.”
“What for?”
“For putting up with my questions. I’m going down and say good-night to your mom, and then I’m going over to Number 5 and tell my friend that you weren’t involved in the shooting.”
He nodded, and after a pause, said in a low voice, almost a whisper, “I still don’t wanna be in no gang.”
“I know,” I told him. “I haven’t forgotten. I try to keep my promises, too.”
Chapter 32
I’d given Denny the keys to my car, so he could have someone drive it to the police station in East Liberty, which is where Todd dropped me off ten minutes later. Number 5 is one of the oldest and smallest cop houses in the city. From the outside, it more closely resembles one of the Victorian era stone mansions that used to dot the neighborhoods immediately surrounding the East End. Well, if the windows in your mansion were bullet-proof and your guests had to walk through a metal detector when they came for Sunday tea.
After I’d passed muster at the metal detector, I walked over to the long counter that ran along the left side of the big room that made up most of the first floor of the building. Thanks to the incident at the Center, the room was even more crowded than it would have been on a typical Friday night, with about an equal mix of teenagers, cops and other adults milling around. Everybody seemed to be fairly calm except for one kid who was screaming profanities at everyone around him, which probably explained why he was sitting on a bench, handcuffed to a railing along the wall.
I made my way over to the desk sergeant at the counter. He was short and overweight and had the same
