Claire DeWitt And The City Of The Dead Part 25

"f.u.c.k," he said.

I pointed the gun at him and held it there while I searched him. I pulled out a nine-millimeter pistol and a hunting knife, both of which I stuck in my purse.

"We're going to the car now," I said.

Andray shook his head.

"I'm not going to hurt you," I said. "We're just going to talk."

He shook his head again, fighting to keep his face calm. "If you gonna shoot me," he said, "you can shoot me right here. I can die right here."

I realized he was terrified. He thought I was going to kill him. Like a lot of people who thought about suicide, Andray didn't actually want to die. Dying was the hard part. He just wanted to be dead already.

By then some of the other boys had come around the corner to see. They kept an eye on us, but none of them rushed to help Andray. I saw what he and Terrell had meant about false friends. The other boys seemed more amused than anything else.

"I am not going to hurt you," I said again, softly and slowly. "But-"

"I ain't getting with you in that car, lady," he said again. "No f.u.c.king way."

I looked around. I could have put my gun down. But I wasn't sure about the boys around us.

I'd done some dumb things before, but I was realizing that this was one of the dumber.

"Okay," I said to Andray. "You're going to tell your friends that everything's cool. When you do that, I will lower my gun. We won't get in the car. Forget about the car. Okay?"

He nodded and swallowed.

"Tell your friends everything's cool."

"Yo, G," he called out to one of the boys. I lowered my gun. "It's cool. She my friend, man. She just p.i.s.sed off, it's okay."

The boy, G, looked at us.

"It cool," Andray said again. "Just back off, G. We need some s.p.a.ce, that's all. She need to calm down."

G looked at us long and hard. Then he turned to the other boys and led them toward the corner. I inhaled and put my gun away.

Andray shifted his weight from one foot to the other, eyes wide. He reminded me of everyone I knew in New Orleans-scared of everything he shouldn't have been and accepting what should have terrified him.

"Where can we talk?" I said.

He shrugged. He tried to swallow but couldn't and instead he spat.

"Listen," I said. "I don't want to hurt you. I don't want to shoot you. And I really don't want to kill you. But if you hurt me again, if you try to hurt me again, I will do any and all of those things. Okay?"

He nodded.

"And if you don't, I won't," I said. "I like you, Andray. I'd rather be friends. Or at least not kill each other. Okay?"

He nodded again.

"Will you get in the car now?" I said.

"No f.u.c.kin' way," he said, shaking his head.

"Okay," I said. "We'll walk."

The daiquiri was the national drink of New Orleans. Different chains of daiquiri shops sold them like slushies, in sixteen- or thirty-two- or sixty-four-ounce plastic cups from big machines. There were even daiquiri drive-thrus, although not in this neighborhood. The nearest daiquiri shop to Andray's corner was on St. Charles and Josephine. We walked there silently.

Inside the daiquiri joint everything was painted black. We got a table in the corner and I got us each a daiquiri, strawberry for Andray and coconut for me. Old soul music came from the speakers, which suited the clientele, mostly my age and up. A few drunk couples danced, but mostly people sat at tables, talking loud and laughing or talking quietly and looking very serious.

I'd put Andray through a confusing and stressful hour, and when I looked at him now I saw what every foster parent and drug dealer had seen in him before-an ache that would never be relieved but that he would do anything to dull for a while. He looked at me with big, pretty eyes. You did it, the eyes said. Now fix it.

"Andray," I said. "I know you didn't kill Vic Willing. I'm pretty sure I know what happened to him. But I still need to know why you took me that night, and I need to know what you know about Vic. Because I know you've been lying, and I have to find out the truth. That's what I do. No matter what it is, I promise, no going to the cops, okay?"

He nodded. I didn't know what he was thinking.

"Don't believe me because I'm an authority figure," I said. "Believe me because I'm friends with Mick, and he's never been anything but good to you. Believe me because you know me, at least a little bit, and I've been pretty good to you."

Andray looked away, then looked at me and nodded. He took a deep breath and relaxed a little. So did I. We'd made a deal.

"What the f.u.c.k?" I said. "What was that all about?"

"s.h.i.t," he said. "I'm sorry, Miss Claire."

"Well, yeah," I said. "But what the f.u.c.k? Why'd you do that?"

Andray sighed deeply. "s.h.i.t," he said again. "Those boys I was with-they was looking for you. They heard you saw that kid Deuce almost get shot on Frenchman Street the other day. They wanted to, you know. When I hear them talking about crazy white lady there, see the whole thing, I figure it was you. I told 'em I handle it."

"You mean they were going to kill me," I said. "They thought I was a witness and they were going to kill me."

Andray nodded.

"You stopped them," I said.

He didn't say anything.

"That is so f.u.c.king n.o.ble," I said. "My heart is bursting, Andray. Bursting. As we speak. Why-" I paused. "You hear that? It's the pieces of my heart, falling to the floor."

He laughed. He looked at me, and for the first time he looked to me like an ordinary boy, with an ordinary smile on his face. In a quick vision I saw what Andray might have been if he had been born anywhere else but here. An endless arc of possibilities flashed before my eyes. None of them involved guns or foster parents or jail.

"Andray," I said. "I need to know the truth. What happened between you and Vic Willing?"

He sighed and looked around the room.

"Look," I said. "I could have had you arrested twice already-once for Vic and once for the other night. I didn't do it either time. Use your head. Can you trust me, or not?"

He sighed again. I could almost see his mind waver: yes, no, yes, back to no again.

"Stop sighing," I said. "It's annoying. Think. Can you trust me?"

Yes, no, yes, no.

He sighed again.

Yes.

"Okay," Andray finally said, decisively. He looked me straight in the eye. "I was there. I knew that f.u.c.ker have beer and water and s.h.i.t like that. So I went to get some. I-I been there before."

I gave him time but he didn't say anything. "When?" I said gently. "When had you been there before?"

"Mr. Vic," he said, looking at the table. "He paid-s.h.i.t. If he got you in a case he would. You know. You could work that off. And sometimes, he also paid guys to come to his place with him and, you know." I nodded. I knew. "So I went there a few times-I mean, I didn't do nothing. I mean, nothing. But he liked people to watch, so I watched. It was easy money. But I only did it a few times. I ain't like that s.h.i.t at all. Not just 'cause it's two guys. I-I don't know. It was just sad. Just sad all around. Like, one person needing one thing so bad-money-and the other person just needing something else so bad. I-I don't know. Just sad."

I nodded. I doubted he was telling the truth about just watching, but I didn't care. That was his own business.

"Why'd you tell people not to talk to me?" I asked.

"'Cause I knew you ain't believe me," Andray said. "You had your mind already made up. I told everyone they help you, they dead. Besides, most people, they know that without me saying anything. They know you don't talk to cops."

I mulled it over. It made sense.

"How did you meet Vic?" I asked.

"First working on his pool," he said. "That was the truth. And then, like I said, he took me in. We had a nice lunch, told me about the birds and stuff. At first I thought-I thought he was just being nice. He said I reminded him of an old friend. We hung out a few times. I thought he was cool. But then, you know, he said if I needed money we could. So I didn't hang out with him no more after that. But then, once, I really did need the money. I was hungry, I didn't have nothing. So. I think-I think he knew it wasn't right. I do."

"Why?" I said.

"'Cause he always apologized afterward," Andray said. "And give you extra money, more than he promised."

I nodded.

"So when the storm comes," Andray said, "me and Peanut and Slim and some other boys-you ain't know 'em-we go to get food and water and s.h.i.t, and we go to Vic's house. We broke right on in."

"When was that?" I asked. "Exactly?"

"Wednesday night," Andray said. He swallowed. "'Bout ten, twelve. See, from over there, most people gone by then. f.u.c.king open house over there. So I went over to see what I could get. And Vic, he ain't there. House totally empty-whole neighborhood empty, almost. That it. That the real story."

I looked at him. "You're sure," I said. "Wednesday night. You're absolutely sure?"

Andray nodded and held his right hand up like he was taking an oath, or proving he was unarmed. He looked me right in the eye. "I lied to you, Miss Claire. G.o.d's honest truth, I lied to you. That's why my prints all over that place. I was looking for s.h.i.t."

"Find anything?" I asked.

"Just beer and water," he said. "Just like I thought. But s.h.i.t, we needed that. I remembered he had a whole closet of bottled water in there, so we went for that. People had kids, babies, with nothin' to drink. People need water out there, food for kids and s.h.i.t. I took some beer, water, s.h.i.t like that. Vic's house, lady next door. Both of 'em. I took whatever I could. Put out some birdseed." He laughed a little and shook his head. "I got a lot of s.h.i.t to feel bad about. But not that. I broke into a lot of places those days. I ain't feel bad about one of 'em."

I looked at him as it dawned on me what he was saying. "Where else you break in?" I asked.

"Me and some boys," he said, looking at his daiquiri. "We got into that Walgreen's on Magazine. We got into Sav-a-Center, Whole Foods-that place crazy. We took water, juice, food, stuff for the babies, s.h.i.t like that. We each took a shopping cart and bring it back downtown. One of the boys, he got a car, and we put stuff in there, too, but then he left town, and it was just carts. We could get cars, but ain't no gas. Then when that was all gone, we went to houses-houses we knew we could get into easy, like Vic's. People needed food-old people, babies. People was dyin' in there. We couldn't just..."

He shook his head and swallowed and didn't finish his sentence.

"You did that?" I said. "Andray, that's not stealing, that's-"

I didn't know what to call it. Andray shrugged.

"Why'd you feed Vic's birds?" I asked.

Andray made a face like I'd said something stupid. "They ain't his birds," he said. "They just birds. I mean, they gotta eat too."

He was right. I had said something stupid.

"Who was the kid in the restaurant?" I said. "Why'd those guys try and kill him?"

Andray shrugged. "He wasn't no one. I mean, I know his name, but he got nothin' to do with you. Why they did him like that, I don't know. I think they think he was talkin' to the cops. I mean, that happens. Someone gets some f.u.c.king job and s.h.i.t and they forget, you know. You think you out of it. But you ain't ever out of it."

"So what about you?" I asked Andray. "You want out of it?"

He nodded. "For real," he said. "I'm sick of that s.h.i.t. I just-you know."

"You can take him with you, you know," I said. "Terrell. You don't have to leave him behind."

Andray nodded. He didn't believe me and I didn't know if I did, either.

"Mick wants to help you," I said. "All you have to do is let him."

Andray shrugged. I thought about explaining Mick's guilt, collective and individual, to him, but I figured he already knew about that.

"Look," I said. "Mick's kind of f.u.c.ked up right now. Depressed. But if you let him help you, that helps him. I mean, I don't know why. I never understood people like that. But if you can let him help you find some stupid job or whatever, you'd be doing a lot for him."

"Yeah, okay," Andray said, nodding. "He's trying to get me in this GED program. I been thinking about it. Sometimes..." He stopped. "Sometimes with Mr. Mick I feel like-I don't know. Like maybe like I'm an experiment or some s.h.i.t like that. Like he's got-like he's got something to prove or some s.h.i.t like that. I mean, not that I don't appreciate-" he rushed to add.

"No, I know what you mean," I said. "But the thing about Mick is, you could tell him that. I mean, if you say it nicely, like you just told me. You could tell him that and he'd be okay with it."

Andray nodded. "Yeah. Okay."

"You're smart," I said. "Getting a GED will be easy for you. You just need to work on your reading. The rest'll come easy after that."

"I can read," Andray said defensively. He could, I'd noticed that, but it was slow and laborious.

"How's that book Vic gave you?" I asked.

"It's okay," he said. "I mean, it ain't easy. I give you that. But I-I don't know. I like it."

"Vic really gave it to you?" I asked, skeptically.

"Yeah," he said. "One night he caught me looking at it. I don't know. I liked the cover." He took the copy of Detection out of his pocket and held it between his hands, bending it back and forth. I'd noticed from the wear on his pants that he always carried it there.

"Anyway," Andray went on, "Mr. Vic, he seen me with it, and he told me to go ahead and keep it. Said I'd do better with it than he did." Andray shrugged. "I don't know what that means."