Shame The Devil Part 16

"They're Borlas. I bought 'em through Hot Rod Hot Rod and had them installed." and had them installed."

"Nice."

"Take care, Jerry."

Sun waved and walked away.

Stefanos walked across the street to the Brightwood Market and stopped the least threatening looking young man he could find. He identified himself as an investigator and asked the man if he had been acquainted with either Donnel Lawton or Randy Weston. The young man shook his head. He asked him if he had heard anything on the street or had any knowledge at all about the murder. The man walked off without a word.

Stefanos had spoken loudly in hopes of getting a blind response to the names from the other men who stood around outside the market. He heard an obscenity muttered and looked around: A couple of the men stared at him with smirking eyes. He asked them as a group if any of them had known Donnel Lawton or Randy Weston. They ignored him completely.

In the year he had worked for Elaine Clay as an investigator, he had been threatened several times in a benign way, slapped across the face by a woman on the doorstep of her row house, and chased down the street by a clubfooted drunk wielding a butcher knife. There had been no serious incidents. This was as much due to luck as it was to the precautions he had taken in his manner and dress.

And there was something else, too. A black man could seriously injure or kill another black man in town and get a tepid response from the police and the press. When a black attacked a white, though, the cops and the media came down hard on both the perpetrator and the neighborhood. It had always been that way. As a white investigator in a predominantly black city, Stefanos had an edge.

There was nothing here for him today. He hadn't expected there to be. He glanced at the market's windows and down along the concrete landscape as if he were looking for something in particular, and then he walked back to his car.

Ronald Weston lived with his mother and younger sister in an apartment on 9th, between Missouri and Peabody, about a mile northwest of 1st and Kennedy. The radio towers of the Fourth District Police Headquarters rose behind the roofline of the complex, a half dozen boxy units with screened porches in the rear.

Stefanos parked on 9th. He had phoned Ronald Weston early that morning, and Weston had told him to come on by.

Weston opened the door to the apartment. He was a thin boy, not past his mid-teens, wearing an oversize T-shirt, extrawides, and unlaced Timberland boots. His ears were too long for his face. He had large brown eyes and crooked teeth. He gave Stefanos a casual nod, reaching for hard.

"Nick Stefanos. I called."

"Come on in."

Stefanos followed him back through a hall. Go-go music grew louder as they entered a living room. A Nintendo 64 was hooked up to a large-screen television in a cheap hutch set against the wall. Fast-food wrappers littered a gla.s.s-top table, and a Big Gulp soda sat half full amid the wrappers.

A phone rang. Ronald Weston found the cordless beneath a Taco Bell bag. He activated the phone, said something to the caller, said to Stefanos, "Hold up," and walked away. Stefanos could see him in the kitchen, hand gesturing as he spoke. From Weston's shy smile Stefanos guessed that he was talking to a girl.

Stefanos went to a portable stereo, saw a Northeast Groovers CD atop a nearby stack. He turned the volume down to conversation level as Weston came back in the room.

"All right, man. Had to talk to this jazzy girl I know. I'm all done with that."

Stefanos had a seat on the couch and pulled out his pad and a pen. Weston chose a hard-armed chair beside the gla.s.s table. He kept the phone held loosely in his hand.

"So Ronald -"

"Yeah."

"Like I told you on the phone, your brother Randy's trial is coming up. We're still working on his defense, and I need to ask you some questions."

"They gonna put me up there on the stand?"

"I don't think so."

"'Cause whatever I said, they'd they'd say I would lie for my brother, right?" say I would lie for my brother, right?"

"Would you?"

"To keep him out of jail? G.o.dd.a.m.n right I would."

"Okay, but do me a favor. Just don't lie to me today."

Weston looked Stefanos over. "You get paid, right?"

"Yes."

"They pay you good?"

Stefanos looked down at his pad. "Your brother - did he deal drugs?"

Weston laughed and shook his head. "d.a.m.n, you go right to it, don't you?"

"Did he?"

"Why you think I'm gonna tell you that?"

"Look, I'm not going to pa.s.s on any information that would hurt your brother. Like I told you, I'm working for the woman that's defending him. I'm just trying to find out what happened, okay? So let me ask you again: Did Randy deal drugs?"

Weston licked his lips. "He had a little thing goin' on, yeah."

"Rock?"

"Uh-uh. Powder. He didn't f.u.c.k with no rock."

"How big was his operation?"

"Wasn't no operation, man. He just had a little somethin' personal goin', like I said. Little extra on the side to put next to his other money."

"What other money? He had a job?"

"No. Not since last year."

"But he did have his own apartment down the street from here, and a nice car. And a girlfriend, too. So his business must have been bigger than what you're describing."

Weston looked past Stefanos. "He had a couple of younguns runnin' for him, that's all. No gunslingers, no kind of drama like that."

"Down around First and Kennedy?"

"Yeah. But it wasn't no thing. Boy name of Forjay runnin' the s.h.i.t down there, and Randy always made sure to step out of Forjay's way. Randy, he just gettin' a little bit of it for his own self."

"Okay. What about Donnel Lawton?"

"I didn't know him personal."

"Lawton was a known dealer down in that neighborhood. Did Randy ever talk about him?"

"Not that I know."

"Witnesses saw your brother and Lawton arguing the day of the murder."

"Look, Randy was doin' business down there. Maybe Lawton was lookin' to shake out on Randy's strip. Man tries to do you like that, you got to step to to him, know what I'm sayin'?" him, know what I'm sayin'?"

Stefanos said, "Your brother own a gun?"

"No."

"Never owned a Beretta ninety-two?"

"He never did own any kind of gun."

"The cops found a ninety-two in your brother's apartment. The markings on the slugs taken from Lawton's corpse matched that gun."

"Maybe they did, I ain't gonna argue it. But if they found the murder gun there then somebody put put it there and framed my brother up good. My brother was hard when he had to be, but he wasn't down with no guns." it there and framed my brother up good. My brother was hard when he had to be, but he wasn't down with no guns."

"Let's go on to something else. Your brother's girlfriend."

"What about her?" said Weston distastefully.

"I'm talking about Erika Mitch.e.l.l."

"I know who you mean. And f.u.c.k f.u.c.k that b.i.t.c.h." that b.i.t.c.h."

"You don't like her."

"b.i.t.c.h was with Randy the night Lawton got doomed. Randy told me they went to some movie together down at Union Station."

"Which show?"

"That Bruce Willis joint, out in s.p.a.ce? Randy said it was the nine-forty-five."

"If that's true, then Erika could testify that the two of them were there."

"She could. But now she won't alibi my brother. She be changin' her story now, say she wasn't with him that night."

"Why would she do that?"

"You need to be askin' her."

"I will."

"And while you're at it, maybe you ought to be talkin' to her pops. She live with him out there in Chillum. Randy always had to pick her up there, get the treatment from her father, like where you be takin' my little girl and s.h.i.t. So I know her father saw the two of them go out together the night Lawton was killed."

Stefanos made a notation. "One more thing. What kind of car does your brother drive?"

"Late model Legend. Cherry red with limo tints."

"He ever drive a red Ford Torino?"

"One of those old-time cars?"

"Yes."

Weston shook his head and pursed his lips. "Naw, man."

"He know anyone who owns one?"

"Even if he did, Randy wouldn't be drivin' no hooptie and s.h.i.t."

The phone rang, and Ronald answered it. He said, "See you then, girl," and cut the connection.

"Your girlfriend?" asked Stefanos, trying to get through Weston's sh.e.l.l.

"Just some girl I know. She on her way over here now." Ronald smiled. "Gonna hit it like a girl like it to be hit, too."

Stefanos rubbed his eyes. He wanted to tell the kid that he didn't have to prove anything. He wanted to tell him that he was tired of it, that he just didn't care.

"What're you, Ronald? Fifteen?"

"I'm sixteen. Why?"

"No school today, I guess."

"Half day."

"Teachers' meetings or something?"

Ronald grinned. "You caught me, Mr. Investigator. Gonna take me in?"

Stefanos closed his pad. He stood and zipped up his jacket. "Thanks for talking with me. If I have any more questions, I'll give you a call."

Stefanos went down the hall. Weston followed and put a hand around Stefanos's arm. Stefanos stopped and turned.

"You gonna help my brother? 'Cause my brother can't do no hard time."

"I'm gonna try."

"Look here," said Weston. "I know know Randy. My brother didn't kill n.o.body, man, for real." Randy. My brother didn't kill n.o.body, man, for real."

"I believe you," said Stefanos.

Outside the apartment building, Stefanos lit a cigarette and crossed the street to his Dodge.