Richard, the cockier of the two, clucked his tongue in his mouth. “He got soft.”
“In what way?”
“He changed from how he was. Asa got to be all about books and shit.”
“You think there’s something wrong with that?” said Ramone.
“Sayin, I ain’t about to spend all my time at a library.”
“He was carryin a book the day we saw him, matter of fact,” said Ronald.
“What day?” said Ramone.
“The day he was killed. Me and Richard was headin towards home. We had just come from playin ball with Diego and Shaka.”
“Where were you, exactly?”
“We were a couple of blocks behind Coolidge. I guess we were on Underwood.”
“And which way was Asa headed?”
“Towards Piney Branch Road.”
“Did you guys talk?”
Ronald thought about it. “We said hey, but he kept goin. I asked him, ‘Where you off to, son?’ He answered me, but he didn’t stop.”
“What was his answer?” said Ramone.
“The Lincoln-Kennedy Monument is all he said.”
“The Lincoln Memorial?”
“Monument,” said Ronald.
“Did you see the title of the book he was carrying?” said Ramone.
Ronald shook his head. “Nah.”
“Wasn’t no title, stupid,” said Richard.
“Say it again?” said Ramone.
“Book ain’t have no words on its cover,” said Richard. “I remember, ’cause I was thinkin, that’s a strange-ass book.”
It was a journal, thought Ramone.
“Don’t tell our mom we was playin the Xbox,” said Ronald.
“We told her we’d be studying,” said Richard.
“You shouldn’t lie to your mother,” said Ramone. “She’s a good woman.”
“I know it,” said Ronald. “But if we said the truth, that we didn’t feel like goin to school today, she’d get all pressed.”
“I ain’t tryin to get slapped,” said Richard.
Ronald nodded at the lower portion of Ramone’s suit jacket. “You carrying your Glock today?”
Ramone nodded.
Ronald smiled. “Good stoppin power, right?”
“Hope you guys feel better,” said Ramone, putting a business card down on the table as he stood. “Get some rest.”
Out in the car, Ramone cranked the ignition and drove in the direction of Terrance Johnson’s home with the intention of meeting Bill Wilkins, who would now be deep into Asa’s computer. Going east on Peabody, he got a call on his cell.
“Regina.”
“Gus…”
“What’s wrong?”
“Don’t get upset.”
“Tell me what’s wrong.”
“Diego got suspended from school.”
“Again? ”
“That thing about his friend Toby and the fight he got into. Mr. Guy said he was an uncooperative witness and then some kind of jive about insubordination.”
“Bullshit.”
“Also, Mr. Guy mentioned that the principal has some questions about our residential status.”
“I’m guessing they found out we live in D.C.”
“Whatever. I’m going to pick up Diego now. I spoke to him on the school phone, and he’s upset. I guess I’ll try to talk to the principal when I get there.”
“Just pick him up,” said Ramone. “I’ll go talk to the principal.”
“You ought to chill before you roll up there.”
“Get Diego,” said Ramone. “I’ll call you later.”
Ramone curbed the Taurus. He phoned Bill Wilkins, at the Johnsons’, on his cell.
“Bill, it’s Gus. I’m not gonna get over there for a while.”
“I’m into Asa’s history files,” said Wilkins, his voice low. “There’s something you should have a look at.”
“I will when I get there. Meantime, you ever hear of a Lincoln Monument?”
“Uh-uh.”
“See if you can find some reference to that in there.”
“Okay, but Gus —”
“I’ll talk to you later,” said Ramone.
He drove toward the Maryland line.