“He dead?”
“Howard Hospital. On arrival.”
“Everything balanced itself out, then.”
“I guess you could say that,” Davidson replies.
I manage to sneak out and return to the car.
I tap on the trunk as I walk by, and then enter.
Before I start it up, I turn toward the rear and say, “Don’t worry, Playboy, I didn’t forget about ya.”
Eighty
It’s a cloudless day and getting chillier. It’s a good time of year. The Anacostia is still a filthy river, though.
I power my cell phone off ’cause I know the calls will start flooding in soon, and I don’t want to be disturbed right now. I open the trunk, and I’m temporarily taken aback by the smell. He shit and pissed in his boxer shorts. They used to be white. Now they look like he rolled in mud, and there’s a bit of blood mixed in. Much of it worked its way into the fabric in the trunk of my car. That’s a difficult smell to get rid of, and something I hate cleaning up.
He’s fucked up, with teary, red, puffy eyes, and the swollen left side of his face has now turned a purplish red. I don’t think he’s got any more struggle left in him, just some moans and groans.
“She’s alive,” I tell him.
He nods his head up and down quickly, and what looks like a smile is trying to work its way out of the duct tape.
He’s struggling to say something through it. I pull it halfway so he can talk.
“Oh, thank you, God. Thank you. I did what you told me, right?”
“Yeah, I suppose. You’re responsible for a lot of people getting hurt, too.”
“No, man, I told you I ain’t about that. That’s not me. That be them.”
“No, that be you, too, little man. I want you to tell me something, though. Why didn’t you take that girl Justine to work the brothel like the others?”
“Justine?”
“The high school girl in Virginia. You know who I’m talking about. The one you got fucked up on crack.”
“Oh yeah.”
“So why didn’t you get her to work at the brothel?”
“’Cause…I don’t know. I just didn’t like her for that.”
“You just liked to fuck her, then?”
“Fuck no. I don’t mean like that.”
“Well, it doesn’t matter now.”
I pull him out by the arms, careful not to soil my gloves. I let him fall over the bumper and to the ground. His feet are hogtied to his hands so he falls to his side.
He sees the river. By the look he’s got, I know he knows what’s up.
“Aw fuck no, c’mon, now. Fuck this.”
I lean down to grab him.
“Wait, wait…I can give you something else. I got somethin’ good you need to know. Maybe we can work this shit out, huh?”
“What do you got?”
It takes him a moment to catch his breath.
“I can tell you who shot that officer.”
“Didn’t we go over that shit already?”
“Naw, man, naw.”
“I must be tired, then.”
“Little Monster did that shit.”
“That’s old news, Playboy. He got himself killed by the police in the back of the house you ran out of.”
“What?”
“No shit. No more Little Monster. You can tell me one other thing, though.”
“Yeah, man. Anything. What you need?”
“Why did he have to go and kill the cop? I thought it was just me he was after.”
“He crazy like that. He got himself all worked up when Officer Tommy rolled up and called it his.”
“That’s some shit.”
“Yeah, man, sure is, but he crazy like that.”
“All those dippers he smokes, huh?”
“Yeah, must be.”
“But still, you were the driver.”
“Fuck, man, shit… I had to drive. I told you he fucking crazy. But wait, I got somethin’ else for you. Something much better. You need to hear this shit, man.”
“Make it good.”
“That officer who got shot, he wasn’t all you think.”
“Yeah?”
“He got himself a girl at the brothel. This young Latina girl. He be up there almost every night with her. He never pay, either.”
“He’s dead, so what the fuck do I care for?”
“Instead of paying he worked it off in trade, with Cordell. Just a couple days ago he did somethin’ big for him.”
“What was that?”
“He shot some fucking kid in Virginia. Tapped him in the back of his head in his own bedroom.”
“Fuck you,” I say.
“No, man, this is for real. I’m like a witness to that shit. I heard it get set up through Monster and Cordell and Officer Tommy.”
“Police will need more than you as a witness. You ain’t that credible.”
“There is more witnesses. The hit came through one of the ’migos that got himself locked up. His name be Angelo, and then one of his other boys was with Cordell and Officer Tommy. A boy named José. He be Angelo’s brother, and the one that knew where the boy lived and shit.”
“José gave the officer the address for the boy who got shot?”
“Yeah, shit yeah. Cordell okayed it, but the request came through Angelo ’cause of some shit the boy got himself involved with.”