We managed to get a booth at Applebee’s, and I ordered one of my favorites, the Oriental Chicken Salad. Larretta ordered a salmon filet with rice and a side salad, and then Anthony did himself proud by going for pretty much the rest of the menu. Okay, I’m exaggerating a little, but he did order a half-pound burger, fries and onion rings, cole slaw and a chocolate milkshake.
“Anthony,” his mother said, “at least order something green, too.”
Anthony glanced around, then asked our waiter if they had any of the green ketchup that little kids like. Turns out they did, so Anthony asked for some of it with his fries, and then he gave his mother one of those ‘Okay?’ looks that appear to be part of teenagers’ genetic code.
Larretta just shook her head a little and smiled. I got the idea that this was an on-going, but friendly, issue between them.
“Larretta,” I said, “I had cafeteria duty when you were Anthony’s age, and I’m trying to remember what you had for lunch most days.”
“No, no, Mr. Barnes,” she said. “Don’t be going there. That was different. I was tryin’ to get bigger so I wouldn’t get knocked around so much on the basketball court. And besides, we didn’t have no salad bars at Franklin in those days.”
Anthony, of course, was loving this. I’d just given him some unexpected ammunition for future discussions of things dietary with his mother. I decided to give Larretta a break and change the subject.
“I know you and I were kidding earlier,” I said to Anthony, “but how did things go at school today?”
He hesitated for a second, and Larretta said, “Maybe I’ll try to find the ladies’ room for a minute.”
Before she could move, though, Anthony said, “Wait, Ma, you don’t have to go. I mean, I know you’re just tryin’ to give Mr. Barnes and me some space, but you don’t have to, okay? I want you to stay and listen to whatever we say.”
Larretta put her hand on top of Anthony’s for a minute and said, “Okay, honey.”
Then Anthony looked back at me.
“School was weird, the way it always is when a bunch of kids are absent and we have security all over the place.”
I nodded and said, “Yeah, I know what you mean. What about the gangs? Any problems there?”
“Un-uh,” he said. “Mr. Spoon was there all day, talkin’ to us ‘bout keeping it cool. And at dismissal, they sent the gangs out different doors. Ain’t nobody wanted to fight anyway.”
“What’d you think when you heard about T-Man?” I asked.
He paused for a minute.
“Mostly, I just thought I wasn’t surprised. You be the leader of a gang, getting’ popped is always a possibility, ‘specially if you got a personality like T-Man’s.”
I could see that Larretta wasn’t happy with the “gettin’ popped” comment, but she managed not to say anything.
“What do the Links think happened to T-Man?” I said.
He shrugged and said, “Really, don’t nobody know. The Gates swear they didn’t do it.” He shrugged again. “I just don’t know.”
“Any chance one of the Links killed T-Man, maybe Rodney?”
“Nah,” said Anthony. “I be real surprised if one of us did it, ‘specially Rodney. He not too bright and he, like, kinda looked up to T-Man, you know.”
Our meals had arrived, and we spent a few minutes eating before getting back to our conversation.
“Just one other thing,” I said to Anthony. “With T-Man gone, who’s the boss now?”
He thought for a minute again.
“I dunno, maybe Razor. When we left school today, he tole everyone to just hang loose, he’d be in touch about somethin’ soon.”
Interesting.
Then Anthony turned to Larretta.
“Ma, I know you don’t want me in no gang, and like I told Mr. Barnes, I don’t wanna be in the gang, either. Maybe things will change now, what with T-Man gone and all. But you gotta unnerstand, I can’t just tell Razor and everybody else that I’m out the gang. It just don’t work like that.”
Larretta put her hand over his again.
“I know it doesn’t,” she said, “but one way or another, this is gonna end, Anthony. You understand?”
He nodded.
“Okay,” I said. “I’ve got two suggestions. First, let’s table any more talk about gangs for the rest of the meal. The situation seems pretty calm right now, so let’s give the cops some time to do their thing. And second,” I added as I reached for one of the large menus, “let’s concentrate on dessert.”
* * *
The next day was Saturday, and Halloween. I got up and ran, then came home and hit the weights for a while. Then I cleaned the Camry inside and out before catching some college football games on television. Finally, at six o’clock, I shaved, showered and got dressed for the costume party. At a little before seven-thirty, I pulled up to the front of Laura’s apartment building. It was still warm, and she was waiting for me outside. It took a little longer than usual for her to get into my car, but with my help, she managed.
At eight o’clock, I parked in front of Ginny Townsend’s home, on Braddock Avenue, just a few blocks from the Frick Mansion. Ginny and her husband had bought the old Victorian several years earlier at a reduced price, because it needed a lot of work. Ever since, Jack, a general contractor, had worked on the place in his spare time, and it was finally starting to resemble what they’d had in mind when they bought it.
As
