"Si One hour, two hour."
Jefferson sighed. He knew he had to dump his car now, rely on public transportation. He hated doing that. He knew he had to change his clothes, too. It was raining again. He'd have to find another car when he got uptown.
33
April had hoped for a little peace, but she returned home to find the air in the family house so thick with incense and smoke and shrieks that she thought at first the building was on fire and her mother was somehow trapped inside it. On closer inspection, April realized it was just Sai Woo taking many forms as, on occasion, she liked to do. Sai was slamming the woks and spoons around on the stove in the kitchen like a crazy human, howling like a wolf, and spitting fire like the dragon she aspired to be.
Skinny Dragon did not stop this performance when April rushed into the kitchen, demanding to know what was going on.
"Aaeiiiie." Sai's answer was the universal cry of distress.
With every strike of the kitchen drum, Dim Sum, the French poodle, gave a little shudder and rolled her eyes. The dog lay on the chair that was Ja Fa Woo's kitchen throne with her hindquarters hidden inside the gloomy-colored patterned sweater that had been one of Sai's less inspired birthday gifls to her husband. The dog's expressive black eyes and apricot head positioned on crossed paws made her seem to be praying for the noise to stop.
"Ma, Ma, talk to me. What's happening?"
Sai spoke in rapid Chinese. "Your uncle Dai had a heart attack. He's in the hospital. Your father is there now."
She was too angry to explain further, then couldn't stop herself from launching a furious raft of complaints. April was supposed to be home at four. And now it was nearly ten-thirty. Sai was upset because worm daughter, who had no sense of duty to her mother, was not at home to drive her to the hospital as April should have been. Because worm daughter was not home, Sai had had to resort to long-distance methods of rallying the ailing spirit of Uncle Dai. The hospital was many miles away, and Sai had no idea if Dai's spirit could possibly hear her. •
Not only that, Sai hadn't known April had a new boyfriend, and this new possibility for a husband was Chinese! This Chinese (paragon) called three times and spoke to Sai very politely. He said he wanted to meet her soon, Sai reported as she beat metal spoons against the metal stove, screaming at the irony of the gods for bringing her daughter good lucky boyfriends, only to have ungrateful daughter irritate, annoy, and ultimately lose them.
"You no show up," Sai screamed. "Why you no show up? You lose notha boyfriend you triple stupid, ni. You ten thousand stupid."
"What are you talking about, Ma? You want to go to the hospital to see Uncle Dai, I'll take you. Put your coat on."
But no, she wouldn't do that. This boyfriend called April on the telephone three times, so Sai would sacrifice her own feelings, even her duty to Uncle Dai, so that April could behave properly and return Kiang's call, maybe have date tomorrow and get married by spring.
"Let me get this straight," April said. "Dean Kiang called here? In this house?"
Sai nodded and lapsed back into Chinese. "I told him you weren't home yet. He said you were supposed to meet him and you didn't come. He was worried, ni, nice man."
"He called you here?"
Sai nodded so seriously and sincerely April couldn't help feeling her mother had been upstairs in her apartment again, waiting for her, and that, snooping, Skinny
Dragon had answered April's phone as she'd been instructed never ever to do. "He's not my boyfriend," April said. "He's the DA."
"What DA?"
"He's a prosecutor, a lawyer. He called me for work."
"Didn't sound like work."
April took a deep breath and tried to calm down. Instead she choked on the incense.
"He mallieed?"
"How do I know if he's married. I just met him."
Sai further reported that she'd invited Dean Kiang to dinner and he said he'd be glad to come. Would April please call him back because he said it was urgent?
April left the kitchen and climbed the stairs to her apartment to call the prosecutor back. At 10:53, he was still in his office. April figured he probably wasn't married.
"Hi, it's April," she said, finally falling into a chair in her living room.
"Gee, April, what are you getting into?" Kiang demanded without any preliminaries. "I thought you were smart."
After being yelled at by her mother, April was in no state to answer any questions about her intelligence. Her mouth opened to frame a reply, but her tongue refused to move.
"April, you there?"
"Yeah, I'm here. I gather you called several times."
"Yes, we're getting some heat over here about your visit to the ME's office."
"Oh, yeah, who from?"
"Abraham called from his hospital bed. He says he'll personally see to it that you never see the light of day again if you screw up this investigation. And so will I."
"I have no idea what you're talking about," April said angrily.
"Oh, yes you do. You threatened Dr. Washington.
You accused her of mishandling the case, of improprieties—and I don't know what all. Are you crazy?"
"Dr. Abraham told you that?"
"You've got to cut that out if you want to come down here and work with me. . . ." Kiang paused.
April's mouth was dry. She knew she'd pushed a few buttons with Rosa Washington, and pushing buttons in an obvious way was against her culture and the rules of her ancestors dating back to the dawn of time. Chinese did not accuse each other outright, did not have confrontations. In old China the guilty were skinned alive, pulled apart by horses, their limbs amputated, and their heads stuck on stakes. But good behavior was vital throughout. Mao was known to have his enemies to dinner, feed them the very best food, then blow them up in their cars on their way home. Better to have an enemy die mysteriously on the road than lose face by having to execute him or throw him in jail.
April squirmed under Kiang's attack. It was hardly her nature to get under people's skin and ask hard questions. She didn't like doing it. In fact, it had cost her a lot to make the medical examiner so uncomfortable.
"April," Kiang said. "Is this getting through to you?"
"Ducci says Petersen died first," April said finally.
"I heard, but it doesn't change the facts."
"Oh, yes it does. If Petersen died first, it raises questions about his cause of death and the motivation for killing Merrill Liberty. You should be the first one to agree that we have to clear those things up if we want any kind of a case that will stick."
Kiang made a noise of disgust. "What happens to the nail that sticks up, April?"
"I don't know, what?"
"It gets pounded down."
April didn't thank him for the information.
"You said you'd keep in touch," he complained. "I thought you were going to stop by and see me tonight..
I thought we might have some dinner." He paused as if waiting for an apology.
April remained silent. What did she have to apologize for if he never actually made plans with her?
"Well, I hope tomorrow you'll keep me informed."
"Yeah, sure," April said and hung up. Sure she would. Today she'd kept him informed and where had it gotten her? She moved her tired limbs into her bedroom and contemplated her bed. The phone rang again almost immediately. April hadn't had dinner. At this point she was so tired all she wanted to do was sleep. She was afraid it was Kiang calling back to torture her some more, so she let the phone ring four times before she answered it. "Wei," she said cautiously.
"I got a call, April. What's up?"
"Mike." April exhaled with relief. "Where've you been?"
"I could ask you that, but I gather you're busy getting us transferred to Siberia."
"Look, I just asked a question or two. I wanted to be sure about Petersen's cause of death. How could I know Dr. Washington would be so cranky about it?"
"You accused her of fourtee
n different kinds of misconduct as well as every fuckup in the book. What did you expect?"
"Mike, that's not true. I didn't mention the lack of ultraviolets that bothered Ducci so much. I didn't say anything about any kind of misconduct." April paused. "I did remind her of one mistake in a cause of death that came out of her office. That's all I did. And you know what?"
"You love me, you miss me. You're hot for my body."
"You don't give up, do you?" April laughed.
"Yeah, I do in fact give up. I was just kidding. What about the tox report?"
"I asked Washington about the leak to Petersen's widow and she said no one in her shop would give out information before the detectives on the case got it. But you know Daphne called her, we heard the secretary take the message. Maybe they made friends. Washington did confirm that Petersen was such a cokehead he needed a new nose. Has Merrill Liberty's report come in?"
"Due tomorrow."
"Did you talk to Patrice Paul?"
"Yes, but there's not much there. Guy's a closet queen. His boyfriend lives with him. They're health nuts so the three of us had jasmine tea." Mike sighed. "That was a treat."
"Very nice. I take it he's not our coke source then."
"Patrice told me he used to be pretty wild, but when a lover died of AIDS at twenty-seven, he flushed the weed, the coke, and all the alcohol down the toilet. He swears he's been clean ever since."
"What about Liberty? Does Patrice know where he might be?"
"Patrice claims he doesn't know. Petersen was Liberty's closest friend. Patrice had no idea who Liberty would turn to with Petersen out of the picture. He was upset because he'd always thought he was next in the friendship line."
"Maybe someone from Liberty's office is hiding him out."
"Patrice didn't think so. He said Liberty's partners reacted to Merrill's death in a way that disturbed Liberty."
' How was that?"
"Patrice didn't say."
"What about the gay thing?" April asked.
"Patrice said he would have known if Liberty was gay. How about your friend Jason?"
"He came into the station around six for a little meeting with the lieutenant. Jason told us his profile indicated Liberty is as gentle as a lamb, and that neither he nor Emma knows where Liberty is. The lieutenant was skeptical about both items."
"What do you think?"
"I don't think Jason lies," April said slowly. "But I'll tackle them both again."
"Isn't it great to work together again, April? Did you miss me?" Mike asked.
"Yeah, I missed you," April admitted. It was now 11:27. Fully dressed, she was stretched out on her bed trying hard to stay focused on the case and not stray into the dangerous territory of love. "What about Jefferson ?"
"He's got no priors, but it looks like he was some kind of mule, moving drugs around in the borrowed limos of his bosses. Maybe Petersen found out and threatened him, triggering the incident at the restaurant. Someone died in Liberty's car. Maybe someone can finger him. Oh, and Jefferson was a medic in the army, so he knows anatomy."
"Wow, you had a full day."
"Yeah, but it's not adding up yet. How about you?"
"I feel the same, but it will," April said more confidently than she felt.
"I'm glad you're so sure, April. But there's a lot going on here. Next time look before you leap, okay?"
April made a face at the phone as she hung up, then yawned a few times to summon sleep. By now, though, she was all wound up and beginning to panic about loss of face and every possibility for advancement. Just then her mother started pounding on her door.
"I've got your dinner," Sai yelled in Chinese.
Groaning, April got up and went into the living room to open the door to her mother, who was carrying a tray with two dishes on it. Skinny Dragon, true to form, had managed to find some cold rice and two of April's least favorite foods, no doubt saved especially to torture her on this of all nights. The plate was piled high with cold shredded jellied eel. Serving as garnish to this gourmet treat were three black and smelly ten-thousand-year-old eggs. It was then that April realized that Mike wasn't calling her querida anymore.
34
Liberty checked his E-mail and read a message from Jason, telling him they urgently needed to talk. He didn't want to talk to Jason right now, so he didn't reply. There were also E-mails from his partners, telling him that he was being self-destructive and demanding that he surface and deal with his situation. He ignored those, too. As he was shutting down, a news flash came up on America Online: LIBERTY FLEES AFTER POLICE QUESTION HIM ON THE MURRDER OF HIS WIFE. A story followed about the reappearance of his Lincoln after he'd reported it stolen upon his return from a holiday in England. Police reports revealed that the car was blood-spattered, and traces of a white powder believed to be cocaine were found in the trunk.
Rick was stunned. He shut down the computer so he could use the phone to call Marvin on his private line.
Marvin picked up almost immediately. "Hello."
"It's Rick," he said warily. "You sure your phone isn't tapped?"
"We sweep for bugs every day. How you doin', man?" Marvin's voice was neutral.
"You're in the media business. You know how I am. My car turned up."
"Yeah, I was one of the first to know. I have a friend with the police, you know."
"If you have so many friends, why don't you tell me what the hell's going on?"
"I'm in the dark, man, same as you. Just trying to keep my head above water." "What about my head?"
"Hey, you watch your own head. This is what you wanted, friend."
"Oh, no, this is not what I wanted. I want to be off the hook here. I want this over with. Of all the places I could be, Marv. Why did you want me up here in Harlem, with this crazy sister?"
"I thought you'd want to be where the action is, man. Have a look at your people. What could be better than to hide in plain sight?"
"I'm not hiding, man. I didn't do anything wrong."
"Well, that's as may be, brotha."
Rick heaved a bitter sigh. "Marv, I think my people are setting me up. You have any thoughts on why?"
"No, brotha," Marvin said smoothly. "Course not. I don't know who killed Merrill. If I did, the black bastard'd be in jail right now."
"How do you know the killer's a black man?"
"Did I say that?"
"Yeah, you said the black bastard and so did Belle, earlier today. For God's sake, man, don't fuck with me about this."
"I'm sorry. It was a slip, a slip of the tongue. I have no idea who it was, white or black. No idea, man."
"Sweet Jesus. You're fucking with me. You know that crazy sister of yours said that cocaine killed Tor. Was Merrill caught in the middle of some cocaine buy?"
"Could be that's what happened. But Belle's no crazy sister. She's one of my best people. What's the matter? Don't you like her?"
Who could like a person like that? "What do you mean, your best people?"
"Didn't she tell you? She works with the kids, with the borough. She's one of our community liaisons with the police, with the DA's office. She goes to family court when innocent young folk are arrested. Helps battered women find safe houses. You couldn't find better people than Belle."
"Fine, I'll take your word for it. Who's the cocaine source then?"
"The word is it's Wally Jefferson, Petersen's driver, the man you been wanting to see. You hit the nail on the head with that one. I hear he used Petersen's car for buys. Maybe he got the idea to use yours and forgot to put it back. What do you think, man?"
Rick was silent.
"Hey, these things happen, you know that. It's best you get yourself out in the open, man. I get the feeling you're a little scared, a little agitated. Why don't you relax, go out in the hood and take a look round. See the people, have a little chat with Wally if you happen to see him around. Know what I mean? Just watch out for those Dominicans, okay? They can be mean."
"You know where
Jefferson is? No one is picking up at his house."
"I know a place he goes."
"Fine, I'll look for him. But call your police friends and get them off my back. Merrill was caught in a drug hit. For God's sake, tell them that."
"You know I can't do that. I don't make no news— I just report it."
"That's a crock. You assholes make pretzels of the truth every fucking day."
"Still, I'm the asshole you came to, brotha." On that note, Marvin hung up.
Rick didn't feel like calling him back. He' opened his E-mail again and sent a panicked message to Jason, then regretted it and tried to unsend it. He realized that Jason might have a similar response to Marvin's. Too late: The message was gone. Then he sat by the window. It was raining. He watched the rain splash on the pavement. No one was hanging out on the stoop across the street now. It looked just like a regular neighborhood on a gloomy winter afternoon.
At 7 P.M. Belle returned to the apartment. Without taking off the fireman's raincoat she wore over her many layers, she gestured for Rick to follow her. They were going out.
35
Iason sat at his desk with his clocks ticking all around him and read Rick's latest E-mail. It was clear to him that Rick was becoming disorganized; he was acting crazy and irresponsible. And this crazy behavior made the police want him in custody more and more. Jason would never advise someone to react this way. All his life he'd believed that order was necessary, that people shouldn't run around doing whatever they wanted to do. He believed in taking responsibility for one's acts. And Rick wasn't taking responsibility for himself. He wanted Jason to go over and get Merrill's mink coat from his apartment and give it to Emma. Jason could think of no explanation for such a request except that Rick didn't intend to come back.
After Jason's own experience in the police station with April's boss, he could see why Rick might want to disappear for a while. In his shoes, Jason might feel the same way. Jason wasn't sure if he was right not to strongly advise Rick to return, but he couldn't do it. He could not tell Rick to come back right now.
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