woman. They needed to tread lightly.
'She never became acquainted with your bitches.'
'Or is that your other bitches?'
'I never cut her,' Mulysa said.
'Looks to me like you got all sorts of issues with women,' Cantrell said. 'Stems from issues with his mother.'
'That's what they say,' Lee said.
'What you got me in here for?' Obviously agitated, Mulysa's stone-cool facade faded into a distant memory. He straightened in his chair, stiff-limbed and uncertain. Cantrell smiled. Now they could really go to work.
'Where were you on September 3rd?' Cantrell asked.
'Man, how am I supposed to remember,' Mulysa said. A high pitch slipped into his tone. 'Where were you?'
'The man raises a good point,' Lee said. 'September was a long time ago.'
'Maybe if something happened that day,' Cantrell looked up toward Lee.
'Something that might jog his memory.'
'Let's try something easier. What happened earlier tonight? Noticed one of your bitches…'
'Your bottom bitch?' Lee mused.
'… had a little blood. What are the odds that it will be a match to someone in the system?'
'I don't know, detective,' Lee casually ambled toward Cantrell as if to whisper conspiratorially with him. Though for Mulysa's benefit. 'Fine upstanding citizen like Mr Cheldric here, surely only associates with like-minded innocents.'
'Some fine young thing.'
'Maybe you were feelin' your Wheaties tonight.' Lee turned, fully entering Mulysa's orbit, filling his field of vision.
'On top of the world.' Cantrell matched his stance, fully hammering at Mulysa now.
'So much so that you think that you can talk to just anybody.'
'And why not? Handsome man like yourself.'
'And who is she? Just some dumb girl.'
'Bitch.' Cantrell spat the word curtly, like a gunshot. Mulysa couldn't answer, only turn from Cantrell to Lee, not quite keeping up with their rapidfire performance.
'Probably looked at you like you were beneath her.' Lee emphasized the words as if empathizing with his experiences.
'So you think to yourself…'
'No, he probably says it,' Lee interrupted on cue. ''You think you better than me?''
'Who is she?' Cantrell asked.
'Bitch,' Lee said.
'She had it coming. Deserved what she got.' By this point, they had leaned in so close, they nearly pressed their faces on either side of his. Cantrell continued. 'This snooty…'
'Pretty…'
'Smart…'
'White…'
'Bitch,' Cantrell ended. The word bounced against the tiles of the wall.
'I didn't… hurt her,' Mulysa said without conviction.
'This is how folks get a bad reputation. You piss them off, they introduce you to their bottom bitch,' Lee said.
'You like knives, Rondell?' Cantrell asked.
'Yeah.'
'Big knives. Small knives.'
'Yeah.'
'Special knives.'
'He's a connoisseur,' Lee opined.
'Just like knives is all,' Mulysa said.
'We know. We got 'em. All. You really like knives,' Cantrell said. 'We check all of your knives, we gonna find any blood? DNA don't wash off easy.'
'Speaking of which…' Lee nodded to the reports.
'Yeah, I almost forgot.' Cantrell thumbed through the reports. Mulysa had been up to something. Prob ably completely unrelated to the murders over at the Phoenix Apartments. But whatever nagged at him, whatever he was on the verge of talking about, could be leveraged for cooperation later. He perused the coroner's report from the active case as if it had something to do with Mulysa. 'You believe in safe sex?'
'Li'l Jimmy wearin' a hat?' Lee included an insulting level of what he thought sounded like street affectation.
'Don't bother. We know you don't.' Cantrell gambled at this point. The anguish on Mulysa's face told him everything he needed to know. He flashed a glance at Lee.
'Left semen all in her.' Lee gambled with the bluff. Cantrell didn't cut him even the slightest of glances, backing his play.
'We're going to get a sample from you. Make no mistake about it.'
'Court order's already on the way.'
'Is it gonna match what we find in her?'
They both stood now, staring down at a hapless Mulysa. The silence grew cold as they waited.
'She's a junkie and a whore. It's her word against mine.'
'Right, right. A junkie and a whore against the word of a fine, upstanding citizen like yourself. Tell us about what happened. Get you on record first and make it easier on yourself.'
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Naptown Red was quite specific in his task for Garlan. He needed to disappear Lady G, King's woman, but not harm her. Leave her in a place where she could be easily found. Not one of those megalomaniac types, those control freaks who believed in only telling folks as much as they needed to know, Red had a different philosophy. The way he believed, the better you understood why you did things, the less you questioned them. Or him. He was on their side, after all. The object was to distract King, knock him off his game. Let him know that he or his people could be got at any time. Naptown Red wanted that knowledge playing in King's mind. Like a game of chess, it was about misdirection and getting in people's heads.
Garlan pulled into Breton Court in his Impala, a mint-green whip more boat than car. He sank into its driver's seat in a lean so fierce his eyes were barely visible above the dashboard. Early Sunday morning was the most peaceful time in any neighborhood. All the fiends, gangstas, hood rats, playas, and freaks had done called it a night. All the church-going folk popped their heads out, like rabbits on a savannah plain, unburrowing themselves to venture out. He waited for the large woman to leave the crib, a blackfaced little boy in tow. Everyone knew where King stayed. Like it was his throne in a court, guarded by the power of his name. Just like folks knew Lady G stayed across the way. She deserved what she got, playing hooky from church and all.
Garlan twisted his ring. When he peered into the rearview mirror, nothing reflected back from the seat where he should have been. His sense of self was completely annihilated and no one noticed. Complete eradication, gone with no one caring about his absence. He was capable of doing anything and going anywhere. Some days he went places and just listened. His duties slipped, though he wondered if anyone knew. Of course he went to the high school gym to hang out in the girls' locker. Grabbing some tit and pinching some ass. Whacked off more than a few times. Loath as he was to admit it, pussy became boring. Surrounded by it, but no one knew he was there. He didn't exist to them. He didn't matter. They'd never hold him. Laugh at his jokes. Spend time with him. Do his hair. Make him a sandwich. Suck his dick. Nothing. He didn't matter to any of them. He didn't exist. He was a ghost intruding
