Chapter Sixty-Three
During the stakeout on LaSalle Street, she and I found that we could talk about almost anything. That's what we did throughout the long hours. The topics ranged from funny cop stories, to investments, movies, Gothic architecture, politics, then on to more personal subjects like her father, who had run out on her when she was six. I told Jamilla that my mother and father had both died young from a lethal combination of alcoholism and lung cancer probably depression and hopelessness, too. T worked for two years as a psychologist. Hung out a shingle,' I told her. At the time, not too many people in my neighborhood in DC could afford treatment. I couldn't afford to give it away. Most white people didn't want to see a black shrink. So I took a job as a cop. Just temporary. I didn't expect to like it, but once I started I got hooked. Bad.' 'What hooked you about being a detective?' she wanted to know. She was a good listener, interested. 'Do you remember an incident, any one thing in particular?' 'As a matter of fact, I do. Two men had been shot down in Southeast, which is where I live in Washington, where I grew up. The deaths were written off as "drug-related", which meant not much time would be spent investigating them. At the time, that was standard operating procedure in DC. Still is, actually.' Jamilla nodded. 'I'm afraid it is in parts of San Francisco, too. We like to think of our city as enlightened, and it can be. But people out there are good at looking the other way. Makes me sick sometimes.'
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VIOLETS ARE BLUE
'Anyway, I knew these two men, and I was almost certain they weren't involved in selling drugs. They both had jobs at a small local music store. Maybe they smoked a little weed, but nothing worse than that.' 'I know the types you're talking about.' 'So I investigated the murder case on my own. A detective friend named John Sampson helped. I learned to follow my gut. Found out that one of the men had been dating a woman who a local dealer thought he owned. I kept digging, following my instincts, digging a little deeper. Turns out, the dealer had murdered the two men. Once I solved that case, it was all over for me. I knew I was good at it, maybe because of all the psych training I'd had, and I liked making things right. Or maybe I just liked being right.' 'Sounds like you have some balance in your life, though. The kids, your grandmother, friends,' she said. We let it go at that - didn't pursue the obvious - that Jamilla and I were both single and unattached. It had nothing to do with our jobs. If only it was that simple.
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