“I ran Dominique Lyons. Our boy’s got quite a history. Agg assault, which took, and attempted murder, which didn’t. Scheduled witnesses did not testify; possible intimidation noted. He was a suspect in two other murders, but those never went to trial. No weapons recovered, no wits. So what I did was, I got a photograph of Lyons from out the files and took it and the photographs of Jamal White, our victim, and I drove down to that classy bar on New York Avenue where Darcia Johnson and Shaylene Vaughn, Ho Number One and Ho Number Two, dance nekkid.”
“I think they wear G-strings at the Twilight, if memory serves. Technically, they’re not in their birthday suits.”
“They’re close enough. So I go down there and have a talk with our police officer friend, Randolph Wallace. Man who works the door when he’s not in uniform?”
“He’s your friend now, huh?”
“We’re not exactly backslappin buddies. But he was very cooperative. Seems our friend Dominique Lyons was in the club last night, and guess what? So was Jamal White. Officer Wallace knew of Lyons straight away because he frequents the Twilight and often leaves with either Darcia or Shaylene, and sometimes both.”
“And how’d he remember Jamal?”
“Jamal was seated at the bar. Dominique had some words with Jamal, more like a taunting kind of thing, and Jamal left out the place by hisself. About an hour later, Dominique and Darcia went bye-bye as well.”
“Together?”
“Uh-huh. I’m thinking Jamal took the bus down New York, transferred uptown to the Seventh Street-Georgia line, and was walking back home from Georgia Avenue when he was shot.”
“You like Dominique Lyons for the murder.”
“I liked him enough to put his name out on the sheets. And could be we got a witness in Darcia Johnson, too.”
“That would be nice.”
“I tried calling Darcia’s cell number, but she’s not answering the phone.”
“No shit.”
“What I also did was, I’ve got an officer placed over there by the girls’ apartment, around Sixteenth and W?”
“Dominique knows we’re looking to talk to him. You think he’d go there?”
“If Shaylene was trickin up in there last night, and it looked to me like she was, he’s gonna want to get his money sooner or later.”
“Okay. You said you had something you wanted to see me about. So what else?”
“This is a long play, but look: the slugs recovered from Jamal White’s body were thirty-eights. Garloo tells me that Asa Johnson also died from a thirty-eight.”
“And?”
“Same-caliber weapon used in killings just a few blocks apart within twenty-four hours. And you know a thirty-eight revolver is not the gun of choice for these young ones. I mean, it could be a coincidence, but it’s worth looking into.”
“So, for shits and grins, you’re saying we should compare the markings. See if the bullets came from the same weapon.”
“I ordered the tests.”
“What in the world would connect a guy like Dominique Lyons to Asa Johnson?”
“I’m not saying they are connected. But we might as well look at everything.”
“You tell Garloo?”
“I’m fixin to,” said Rhonda.
“Okay,” said Ramone with a long exhale. “Okay.”
“You look like you could use a drink.”
“I could.”
“There’s that place down on Second, got those booths. They play that Quiet Storm stuff at night. You remember that bartender, the one with the heavy hand?”
“I’m going home,” said Ramone.
“Suit yourself, handsome. Keep your cell on for further developments.”
Out in the parking lot, where he could get service, Ramone activated his cell and dialed the number he had gotten from Janine Strange earlier in the day.
“Hello.”
“Dan Holiday?”
“Speaking.”
“It’s Gus Ramone.”
Holiday did not respond. Ramone listened to dead air and then took the lead.
“You want to come down to the offices and make an official statement?” said Ramone. “Or should I send a car out to get you?”
“Neither,” said Holiday after another block of silence. “You wanna meet someplace neutral, I can do that.”
“Just you and me?”
“There’ll be someone else.”
“I got no time for attorneys.”
“He’s not a lawyer,” said Holiday. “You’ll remember this guy. But I don’t want to spoil it for you.”
“Always gaming.”
“You want to meet or not?” said Holiday.
“Where?”
“There’s this bar —”
“Uh-uh. I want you sober.”
Ramone gave him the location. Holiday said he’d see him there.